Middle East – Page 6 – GW Blogs from Abroad

Mayhem in Morocco: Research and Independent Study

AdminApril 22, 2013December 14, 2018

Completing primary research and writing a thirty-page paper for an independent study would be difficult in any location. However, Morocco’s disorganization presents an extra challenge that I did not expect. Our classes ended on April 5th, and on April 14th we moved out of our homestays and I moved into a flat in the old Medina with five of my closest friends in the program. Our last three weeks in Morocco will be devoted to our independent studies. The goal of my independent study is to observe the social attitudes and norms that affect the sexual health of Moroccan women, which is below average compared to other middle-income countries, and to find the origins of these attitudes. ...continue reading "Mayhem in Morocco: Research and Independent Study"

Becoming a Medic in Turkey

AdminApril 21, 2013December 14, 2018

By Adar

This past trip I, somewhat unfortunately, got fairly intimate with the healthcare systems of both Turkey and Bulgaria, directly and through the misfortune of one of my friends.

We all got minor bites by some sort of bug or spider during the first few days in Turkey. I had three on my right hand, and it wasn’t a big deal until on my overnight bus to Bulgaria, my hand became a little irritated and swollen. When we got to Sofia, we stopped at a Pharmacy, and I showed the pharmacist my hand. One of the awesome things about pharmacies in Europe is that the pharmacist has the ability to give prescription medicines, unlike in the US where you have to go through a doctor first. She gave me some anti-allergy cream, which I started applying right away. It didn’t help. My hand continued to swell and became quite hot and itchy. We went through the sites in Sofia, enjoying our time in the beautiful capital of Bulgaria, and in the late afternoon I stopped at a pharmacy again, because my hand had only been getting worse. This pharmacy gave me an anti-allergy pill, which I hoped would kick in soon because my hand at this point was about twice its normal size.

It didn’t. ...continue reading "Becoming a Medic in Turkey"

One Temple to Another

AdminApril 21, 2013December 14, 2018

By Adar

Standing at the top of Galata Tower in the middle of Istanbul, you think you should see everything, though of course, you really only see a fraction of the city. But at sunset you can hear the calls to prayer, loud and overlapping, over a hundred voices chorusing out into the city from the mosques that dot it chanting in different variations from imams. It’s incredible, and such a perfect moment. The gold tops of minarets glisten in the waning sun and for several minutes it looks as if the whole city is made of gold. Turkey was the first Muslim country I’ve spent time in, and the first mosque I’d gone into was the day before, the Suleymane mosque, which was incredible. Unlike churches or synagogues, mosques do not have pews or seats. There is no physical separation between people, they can just stand in the next available space close to the altar. The floors are carpeted and the chandeliers are low, creating a warm light that reflects off of the domes. We went into the mosque in the mid-morning, and sat down on our feet, listening. After just a few minutes, the call to prayer started outside, and over the next fifteen minutes the mosque filled up with men who scrambled to come in, take their shoes off, and find a space behind those already there. Arabic is a beautiful language, and I very much enjoyed watching the mid-day prayer, where everyone knew when to stand up and sit down, when to bow and when to turn. ...continue reading "One Temple to Another"

Spring Break: Istanbul Edition

AdminApril 20, 2013December 14, 2018

By Adar

Istanbul is a messy, sticky place that never ends. With a listed population of 14 million and a reality far beyond that, it’s difficult to fathom just how expansive it is. Even so, I\ve found that there is something distinctly Istanbul-y about every street | have been on. For starters, it is very upfront and personal. There is no chance of walking down the street without bumping into someone passing. And the tourist-reliant businesses do not count on your patronage based on calm encounters. They will very readily walk up to you and try to win your wallet. They’ll even come up to you and offer you something at someone’s store that is two blocks away. As in Israeli touristy areas, there are many places that sell the exact same wares, all in the same area. The Grand Bazaar, for instance, has 4,000 store fronts and about 4 kinds of stores: jewellry. scarves amd rugs, ceramics and housewares, and American brand sneakers. They are all very beautiful and exciting, but there are really only so many you can see before calling it a day. The same can be said for the spice and tea bazaar, which houses dozens of stands with dozens of spices, all potentially owned by the same people. And restaurants have a very bizarre setup where an entire street will use the same kitchen facilities, and you’ll get your food carried in from a block away. The Sultanhamet neighborhood is really one of the most incredible centers I’ve seen. Moque after mosque, built with the grandeur of monarchies, stud the neighborhood. Streets and massive walls are finely decorated, brick and red stone are hallmarks of this area. We stayed for the majority of our time in Istanbul at a hostel right in the heart of Sultanahmet, behind the Aya Sofia, on a street filled with restaurant-cafes with terraces and outdoor seating. It was a very cool place to be, just to absorb the amazing influence of the ottomans. ...continue reading "Spring Break: Istanbul Edition"

This Year in Jerusalem

AdminApril 20, 2013December 14, 2018

By Adar

Passover is a holiday that is celebrated differently in every Jewish family. It can be a fun, lighthearted night of celebration focusing on songs and entertaining kids; it can be a night of remembrance and thought-provoking conversation. It can be a big production with tons of family or a small seder just for the immediate one. It can take one hour or seven. But every Passover seder follows the same structure or order to the night, with specific rituals and symbols on the table; and every passover has the same words at the very end. And Next Year In Jerusalem.

The story of Passover talks about a piece of Jewish history when the nation was enslaved in Egypt, and later escaped to freedom. It’s often used as a metaphor or anecdote to relate to modern-day issues that deal with freedom of all sorts, and so many people can connect with the story on different levels. I think that that is the reason it is such a persevering holiday that is celebrated not only by religious families but by completely secular families as well (such as my own). ...continue reading "This Year in Jerusalem"

‘aa’ilatii

AdminApril 15, 2013

“Anti craazy,” Khalid tells me, even though he’s the one dancing around the room to the Macarena and I’m the one sitting stationary on the couch. “Laa, anta crazy,” I reply, unable to help but smile from the mischievous look on his tiny face. I move out of my homestay in a few hours, at which point I will move in to a flat with five of my friends, only a few blocks away. However, as I sit at my computer attending to my emails while Khalid, my homestay brother, dances around and pretends to talk on his fake cell-phone, it feels just like a regular Sunday morning with the El Abbadi family. I have spent two and a half months with my Moroccan family, which has been just enough time to fall in love with them, feel annoyed with them as I would with my own siblings, and then become sad about leaving. I have survived countless six to seven-hour birthday parties and name-day parties with my aunts and cousins and siblings and parents and family friends who are referred to as aunts or cousins or siblings and struggled through evenings of homework while Khalid and Khouloud are competing with the volume of my host mother’s favorite TV show. However, despite the difficulties of living in close quarters with a new family, I would not trade my experience for the world. ...continue reading "‘aa’ilatii"

Train Rides and Rock Climbing

AdminApril 8, 2013December 14, 2018

By ahblackwell

I am currently riding the train back to Rabat from Marrakech, which is a five-hour process that will get us home at about two in the morning. Even though it’s late and I am more physically exhausted than I have been in a while, having a whole two seats on the train to stretch my legs and doze off is more than I could ask for. This weekend, a small and very wonderful group of students from our program decided to go to Marrakech in order to get in some good hiking and exploration in Ourika Valley, which is about an hour outside of the city. On Friday evening we boarded the train to Marrakech, and were very unpleasantly surprised by the crowd that we found on the inside. For the first half of the train ride, we stood in the hallway or sat on our backbags on the train floor because we weren’t able to find any seats. I had been looking forward to spending the time reading and writing postcards and was disappointed that we had to stand, but the packed cars seemed appropriate for a train going to Marrakech. We stood completely still, trying not to sweat in the humid and crowded aisles, while young Moroccans who were eager to practice their English talked to us about the places we had been within the country. Eventually, a group of young men returning home from the police academy in Rabat who had started talking and joking with us offered to give up their seats. At the end of the ride, they even helped us get our bags down from the overhead compartments and made sure we knew where we were going once we got off in Marrakech. I am continually amazed by the helpful nature of Moroccans (last week a boy and his sister got on a bus that they weren’t waiting for in order to ensure that we got to the destination we had asked them about... what?!). I have encountered so many incredibly friendly and helpful people who are willing to go far out of their way to ensure my safety and security. It is truly astounding. ...continue reading "Train Rides and Rock Climbing"

Fourth Meal: Eating and Eating and Eating in Morocco

AdminApril 7, 2013December 14, 2018

By ahblackwell

The Friday couscous tradition is one of my favorite food traditions here in Morocco, but I was especially excited for it this week because Friday was a particularly cold and rainy day. I walked home in the rain after I finished my Arabic final, attempting to avoid the puddles and land mines - the hidden pockets of water under loose tiles that explode with mud and “medina juice” when you step on them - and the smell of the couscous and the heat of the kitchen when I entered my family’s house were a wonderful relief. I cuddled up under a blanket on the couch in between my host-dad and little sister as my mom brought in the heaping pile of couscous and vegetables steaming on the huge tagine. My host-dad, my brother and I each picked up an oversized spoon and began to dig into the couscous and chickpeas (“hummus” in Darija - no, not what we think of as hummus) in our “zones” while my host-mother and sister went right in with their hands. In Morocco, many traditional meals are cooked in tagines, which are large conical clay cooking pots that allow steam from the meal to condense and drip back down into the base. The meals are brought to the table in the tagine base, and each family member is expected to only eat the food in their “zone,” or the pie-slice of the circular plate that is closest to them. Tagine meals are often eaten without using utensils. Most of the time, bread serves as a utensil, and each bite is achieved using a small piece of “khubs” as a scooper. Couscous, however, is traditionally only eaten with your hands by scooping some couscous and some vegetables into your hand, forming a ball with it, and popping the ball into your mouth. Luckily, the modern habit of using a spoon for couscous has become more common, and I am not subjected to the difficulty of forming couscous balls by hand. Although Moroccan couscous is a cultural staple, it is only eaten for lunch on Fridays. Friday is the most important day of the week, for Muslims, and almost all Moroccans head home from work or school for the afternoon prayer and to eat family couscous before returning back to their normal activities. ...continue reading "Fourth Meal: Eating and Eating and Eating in Morocco"

Ethiopian refugees in Cairo…why English?

AdminMarch 30, 2013December 14, 2018

By mashod93

As I am getting to know the students at the Oromo Center more, I am becoming more and more aware of their everyday lives (what they do and why). This considered when I think about what kind of vocab I should teach first in order for the conversations to be relevant to what they are doing. At first, everyone was new and there were never a guaranteed number of students that would show up each class, which made it hard to recognize any sort of pattern in each individual's lifestyle. I noticed they all play soccer every day at around the same time (timeliness is not hugely valued here culturally) and usually with the same people. It used to bother me that I did not know what each student did with his or her day and it bothered me that no one was conversational enough to explain what their lives were like to me. And that was the issue exactly. No one could communicate with me. And more importantly, they couldn't communicate with other refugees, even some from their own country. ...continue reading "Ethiopian refugees in Cairo…why English?"

The Dirty Details

AdminMarch 22, 2013December 14, 2018

By ahblackwell

During orientation week, Doha, the homestay coordinator for the Center for Cross Cultural Learning, dedicated an entire portion of her session to bathrooms in our homestays. Squatting low with her elbows on her knees for support, Doha demonstrated how to use a “Turkish toilet,” while the picture of the porcelain hole-in-the-ground illuminated on the TV screen behind her. If only I had truly known the project that the toilet in Morocco would become during our pre-homestay orientation session. Perhaps it is good that I did not. ...continue reading "The Dirty Details"