Mary Byrne
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A Semester in Morocco

From January to May 2015, I lived in Rabat, Morocco's capital city, studying Arabic and journalism at the Center for Cross-Cultural Learning.

2/1/2015 2 Comments

Bargaining, the "drop off" and a crash course in Arabic

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On the rooftop of my new home with fellow MOJ'er, Paris.

It's been exactly one week since 60+ students and I moved into Hotel Darna, but I swear to you it feels like it's been one month.  With a few exceptions, the majority of every day has had some sort of activity planned to prepare us for our semester in Rabat, both in terms of academics and culture. In other words, orientation for American college students in Morocco meant learning to bargain, navigating through the streets of Rabat and taking a crash course in Arabic. It also meant a brief potty training lesson, as many homes that students would be staying in might not be equipped with the western style toilet they are accustomed to.

If my head full of blond hair wasn't enough to instantly identify me as a foreigner here, my inability to bargain would be the next tell tale sign. I'm terrible at it, but it's a skill I will need for as long as I live in the medina as a college student on a budget. For this reason exactly, Badrdine Boulaid, our program assistant, introduced us to the bargaining exercise. He gave each student 20 MDh (the equivalent of about $2), and sent us into the medina in search of something we could negotiate the price of. It didn't matter if we came back with anything, so long as we gave bargaining a shot. He provided a few necessary phrases in Arabic (how much is it, this is too expensive, lower, etc.) and emphasized the fact that we must become actors when we shop. In other words, if it meant faking tears to earn a little sympathy; it meant faking tears. That last tip might have been a joke, but with Badrdine, you can't really ever be sure.


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1/25/2015 0 Comments

Hello, Rabat

Part 1: If it could go wrong, it did.

When you're someone who's idea of getting to the airport on time is arriving to the gate three hours before the scheduled boarding time, the concept of catching a connecting flight just before the doors are slated to close is pretty high on the list of things that you wish to never happen. But it did for me, and I am that 'someone.'

Not only did the plane arrive late to Boston from Paris, a badly timed snowstorm meant the plane's wings needed to be defrosted before take-off to Rabat. The roadblock was just enough to add a little stress on to the travels, but not enough to really worry about missing my connecting flight to Rabat. After all was said and done, I'd arrive to Paris just about an hour late. No big deal, right?

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