Images from the AALIM center - on the roof and in the classrooms.
After an unbelievable full night's sleep, I awoke to the bright Moroccan sun and chattering, singing birds. Following a brief sit on the patio outside my room, Eileen and I descended from our third level residences to the central courtyard of the Ryad, adorned with tin lanterns, floor cushions, and low lying sofas upholstered in brilliant gold and black velvet. Sitting on low stools around a small table we enjoyed a breakfast served to us of Moroccan crepes; thin, multilayered pastries make of coase, fried strata. Sipping the mild coffee we followed the crepes with fresh, warm bread slathered with butter and apricot preserves. We lingered over our breakfast, discussing school, travel, art and architecture, postponing the inevitable arrival in the afternoon of our peers, the trip director and the 10 other students.
Following our leisurly breakfast we shared a pot of the piping hot sweet mint tea on our patio overlooking the Medina, served by the lovely Berber/Meknessi tribeswoman, Fatima, who works for the Riad, planning our day over our guide books. Eileen introduced me to her travelling practice of, essentially, destroying her guidebooks, tearing out the folios that contain the applicable area in which you are visiting. I resisted initially, citing it directly as tearing up books, but eventually saw the reasoning and chose to envision my travel books as flexible objects. Not necessarily books which are for preserving and cherishing, but as mementos of my travel, as tools to utilize and modify to suit my needs. Pulling the two folios out which contained Meknes and Volubilis, I was able to save space in my bag, and expedite my time while out as it permitted me to go quickly to the map or areas I was looking for.
We planned to find an ATM ("une machine automatic d'argent?" "une billetiere?" we would ask along the way), and walk the mile or two to the Ville Nouveu, the modern part of the city. We maneuvered through the narrow, quiet, shady streets of the Medina, finding ourselves thrust into the busy part of the city, with streets for cars and transit. The quiet, lazy pace of the pedestrian only Medina was immediately swapped for the hectic pace of life that I'm so used to, from my times in Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait City and Kabul. It was both soothing in its familiarity and annoying in its crowded, hectic smelliness. We walked through the busy, sunny streets at noon towards the modern part of the city. We found the post office (we're still not convinced it was actually the post office though it said "Poste" out front!), bought charming postage stamps (which have actual seeds from the flower featured on them attached to each!), timbres des cartes postale.
Our leisurly breakfast was matched by an equally relaxed lunch, dejeuner, in the Ville Nouvelle at a shady cafe on a semi-busy street. We were closely attended to by the waiter, en Francais, as well as by a particularly intelligent calico cat, who came as sat in the same spot the waiter would stand, every single time the garcon came by the table, whether to give us l'addition (the bill), our food, or our beverages. Every time, the cat would come over and sit in the waiter's spot, watch me politely but intently, but never make a sound. The streets of Meknes, as with many African, European and Asian cities, are abundant with stray cats. Like they say, you can tell you're in America when you see the fat, sleek felines that live there. Nearly everywhere else, the Middle East and North Africa particularly, the cats are borderline starving, hipbones jutting, ears huge and alert, their eyes taking up half their face - immense and yellow. They stalk cafes and shops, keenly awaiting their opportunity, never missing a scrap of dropped food.
Following lunch we dodged traffic back to the Medina and the Riad Idrissi to rest before heading over to the AALIM center to access the internet and await our camerades, and their eventual arrive from des Etats Unis. I toured the AALIM center on my own, meanering the winding staircases, all paved with blue and white geometric mosaic. With mouth agape I returned to the classrooms in which the teaching will ensure tomorrow, photographing the wildly varied mosaic and stucco-work. The toweringly high ceilings decorated with glorious woodwork, carving and painting, all the way to the roof with its breathtaking view of the Medina. I was fortunate enough to be upstairs when the afternoon call to prayer went out, and I was able to capture it, but not do it justice, on video - the echoing and layering calls resounding throughout the town, Ancienne et Nouveau.
Before long, our travel wearly camerades arrived, dragging their suitcases as they gaped at the majesty of the AALIM center, and then the Riad. 50 hours of travelling, and they were scheduled to leave Cincinnatti only 3 hours after me. I must have done something right in this life, bismallah (sp.). I got a bonus 35 bonus hours of Morocco that they'll never get. I got a gentle arrival, personalized and pleasant.
The group was exhausted, but were sat down immediately for a lovely Moroccan cous cous dinner, much like I had on my first day. Though tired they were full of questions for me, and we laughed a lot. I think I'll like this group, inshallah, and they seem to like me. I feel like the grad student TA to the group, somewhere exactly between them and the instructors, and just as familiar and confortable with the professors as with the students. I'm on average, 10 years older than every student. This isn't such a bad thing. I hope they'll trust me as a friend and confidante, but will respect my need for some quiet and solitude. I hope they'll come to me for questions and problems, and trust that I've seen a thing or two in my days. I hope I learn from them, and they from me. Inshallah.
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