Ramadan--Food Galore!

Dear friends and fam,

Because Ramadan started last tuesday, food has been a large part (and during the day...a small part) of Moroccan life.  During every lunch, all of the students traveling with me forage for food in the surrounding hanouts and mechbeza's (convenience stores and bread stores).  Generally lunch consists of moroccan pancakes, jam, and any number of banana's and peaches.  Moroccan pancakes are light and fluffy and kind of look like round, thin sponges.  THey are delicious with some of the local honey or jam slathered on top.  

However, that lack of food drastically changes as soon as the call to prayer occurs every evening at sundown.  As soon as i hear the minarets projecting the nasal voice of...the minaret attendant??, i hop out of my comfy bed by the window, and run into the living room where my family is gathering to eat the first of the evening meals.  My sister Selma (19) usually brings in an assortment of fresh juices (especially popular here are banana milk, carrot milk, cucumber juice, and strawberry juice), and my aunt Karima and mother Mouna bring in various soups.  There is almost always herira, a tomato-based soup traditionally used to break fast, and usually a noodle or spinach soup.  At the table are seated my father Omar, my brother Hemet, and my younger sister Miriam.  Along with the soups, there are usually breewats (tiny sweet samosas with roasted sweet almonds on the inside and smothered in honey on the outside), shebekia (sweet cookies made with orange flower water, deep fried, and dipped in honey and sesame seeds), dates, eggs, and various buttery flatbreads.  ANd that is just the first meal! The second occurs at around 11 pm, but im usually asleep for it, as I have 6 hours of derija (moroccan arabic) every day for which i must be awake.    Another meal occurs just before sunrise at 4:30 or 5, although this is a personal preference as to whether or not one eats at this time.  Selma absolutely refuses to get up for it.  Yeah, Ramadan is pretty great at night. Everyone is out on the street, playing soccer, dancing, walking along the beach, or shopping.  

Another popular activity after dinner is going to the hammams.  These are local bath houses, and I love them.  Selma and I go once a week, and being there is the most relaxed, and most clean i have ever felt in my life.  There are three steam rooms of varying temperature, and once you pick your temperature preference,  you lay down a mat to sit on and fill up numerous buckets with steaming hot water (or cold, if  you are about to leave).  Then a nice woman comes over and takes a very rough glove (which you bring yourself) and literally rubs you down.  Layers and layers of skin slough off onto the floor and are washed into the drain.  It is actually unbelievably gross to see the amount of skin that comes off.  EVeryone makes fun of me because i turn pink with the scrubbing, and the scrubber-lady had never seen that before.  THen you soap up with special henna soap that you buy at the front door and you sit and relax.  About an hour or two later, you leave feeling the best you have felt in days.  

My father has nine brothers and sisters, so most nights we go to the family house in a little beach town about 10 kilometres from my house. THere are usually about 15-20 people sitting on the gazillions of couches drinking tea and talking.  It is wonderful.  One of my "cousins" takes me runnning about 3 times a week, and is convinced that im going to pass out every time we go because, again, my face turns pink when i run.  Everyone thinks it is hilarious that they can spot me across the beach because I am so white.  Ha. Ha. Ha.  At the end of Ramadan, my family is hosting  huge party with a Moroccan band in order to teach all of the exchange students how to dance.  In the next week or two, they also want to dress me up in traditional Moroccan and Berber dress. It should be fun i think.  

Im getting around Rabat primarily by bus, and so a few funny things have happened to me.  Yesterday, I was in the front seat and suddenly, i saw a man about 50 yds ahead of us in the middle of the road.  We barreled towards him and right before we hit him (less than 2 yds ahead of us) he dove out of the way.  Not realizing that this was normal, i screamed, "Holy shit!" quite loudly.  Everyone started laughing, and reassured me for the rest of the ride that everything was "oookay".   Moroccans are so kind and helpful, that though they thought it was funny, they were concerned that i was scared.  Which i was.  

Well that is about it for now.  I will try and update this as much as possible, but im only promising 1 update a week.  

This weekend im going to Casablanca to lay on the beach and maybe...just maybe...find a restaurant where i can have a beer during Ramadan...but let's be honest, I probably wont find one.  

Love

Magpie