Morocco and more

Bonjour à tous!

I seem to be lacking clever introductions this evening.  I'm going to blame this on the terrible state my stomach is in because of my recent trip to Morocco.  There we go, a nice lead-in.  So I went to Morocco this weekend.  WOW...that's all that's coming to me right now.  

We have to go back quite a ways to find the origins of this trip.  Specifically, we must jump back to last September, to a small (incredibly overheated) classroom in Folwell hall on the campus of the University of Minnesota.  This is where a certain French conversation class took place.  But to put it more precisely, this is where the most neurotic French class that has ever existed in the history of mankind/the French language was located.  Made up of about four or five normal people and then twelve to fifteen completely ridiculous caricatures of real humans.  The latter included a girl with a tendency to wink at random things, a 90 year old man with terrible breath and a knack for chemistry, and a man who's head never seemed to be in line with his spinal column.  Needless to say, the normal people clung to each other.  This is how I met Colin and Irina.  For some reason, we all hit off, and the insatiable need for alcohol after every French class brought us even closer.  I soon found out that I was also taking a foreign policy class with Colin, and that he's also slightly better than me at everything.  He quickly became someone to look up to and someone to send me countless links to interesting political satire bits...oh...and a great friend.

I think I've gone off task slightly.  Anyway, nearing the end of the semester, Colin and Irina decided they wanted to meet me somewhere over their spring break.  I would take the week off of school and travel with them (and like all things in my life that I really want to do, it didn't quite work out like this).  The chosen destination was Morocco.  

Several months later, here I am in France getting ready to book these tickets to Morocco.  Unfortunately, what I've learned about French school is that it doesn't make any sense whatsoever.  The teachers spring random tests and assignments on you without ever having given you a syllabus to let you know that you would have to do it.  Plus, there's always the good ol' strike.  One of my teachers (in a course for foreign students that still meets, despite the ongoing strike) decided to place an exam on the Tuesday of the week in question.  Furthermore, due to the fact that my integrated classes aren't meeting, the program has decided to create these random, and remarkably pointless, seminars that we are required to attend despite their complete irrelevance.  They are merely there to say that I've spent some time in a classroom while I'm here.  And yes, these courses were to start this week, or the week that I was supposed to be in Morocco with Colin and Irina.

Long story short, I had to cut it down to a weekend.  This has become one of the largest regrets of my life.  I came back, and I took my test, and I went to these seminars.  All of this was bogus.  I honestly would have much rather faced the consequences of missing everything that I did this week and stayed in Africa.  Don't get me wrong.  I know it wouldn't have been the smartest idea, but it would have been a lot more fun.  Oh well, I suppose doing something you regret is what prevents you from doing other things you'll regret in the future.  By the way, don't give me any of the "No regrets" crap...I don't believe in it and neither should you.

Okay, backtracking now.  Morocco was incredible.  It goes right near the top of the list of best things I've ever done.  Getting there is surprisingly difficult from southern France.  You have to take a train to Marseille to fly out of their airport.  But, there is only one flight a day from anywhere in southern France (that's less than 300 euros) to Tangier, and it's at 7:30 in the morning.  The trains to Marseille don't run that early and neither to the busses from the Marseille train station to the airport.  This is how Corey ended up sleeping in a deserted corner of the Marseille airport last Thursday night.  Hilarious...

I got to Morocco Friday morning and waited for Colin and Irina.  When they got in we took a cab to the city center of Tangier and were immediately greeted (accosted) by a bunch of random locals trying to get money out of us.  They do this very cleverly by taking you to a hotel, and then once you've checked in, they wait for you to start looking around.  They don't leave you no matter what you say, and they take you to all these places until you feel rude trying to make them go away.  The trick is that they have deals with all these shopkeepers and they receive commission off of the purchases made by people they bring in.  The hotel this guy took us too was only 5 euros a night.  It was kind of gross, but did I mention it was only 5 euros a night.  Whatever, it seemed marginally clean and safe...so we went for it.  We all knew what this guy was trying to do, but we couldn't seem to shake him.  So he took us to a carpet shop where they took us to the roof and offered us tea (this sounds creepier than it actually was...I promise).  They then proceeded to badger us into buying things, not understanding that just because we were white (not you of course Colin) didn't mean we had any money.  We eventually paid this guy off to leave us alone, and our trip really began.

We spent the next two days wandering about Tangier.  The beach there is absolutely stunning, with a great view of the coast of spain right across the way.  We walked through the Medina (old city center), and La nouvelle ville (new city center) where I looked at everything in awe.  The interesting thing about Morocco is that there aren't really any landmarks to go see like there are in Europe.  One goes to Morocco for the cultural experience.  As such, Colin, Irina and I spent most of our time sitting in cafés drinking the most amazing tea ever.  I would try to describe it, but I promise I wouldn't do it any justice.

When I was leaving on Sunday, I was actually intolerably depressed.  It was half the fact that I was leaving such an incredible place and half the fact that I was leaving two really good friends, whom I actually like.  That's not to say that I don't like all of the friends that I've made in my program, because I certainly do.  It's just that you are mostly forced to make friends with all of these people.  The people I went to Morocco with were people from my life before who truly know me (however scary the notion of "knowing me" might be).  It was surprising how comforting it was to have that for a weekend.  

All in all, I've spent this past week being really angry at the fact that my situation got in the way of me staying in Morocco all week.  It even altered my perception of French life, merely because I was so bitter.  It's been a bad seven days as far as me interacting with French life goes.  The strike was really starting to get to me.  Normally, I'm able to brush it off my shoulder, understanding that this is just how French people show that they're pissed off.  But when the strike was voted to continue for another week, I had had enough.  It came to a boiling point on Thursday when transportation also went on a national strike for no good reason.  They really just wanted to show the government that they could strike if they wanted to.  As I watched the thousands upon thousands of demonstrators marching through the street, it seemed petty and unnecessary, whereas I used to be astonished by the unity.  I would rather be witnessing a march against the genocide in Sudan or a manifestation for immigrants rights.  I mean, these people are striking from their jobs.  This means that they have jobs in the first place, which in turn means that their lives could be worse.  Be a man, rub some dirt in it, and go back to work.  

All of a sudden, the slow pace of Montpellier that I had previously enjoyed became cumbersome and annoying.  I found myself rudely huffing to myself as I sped around someone who was talking his time in the grocery store.  I was even making less and less conversation with the nice ladies that run the patisserie on my street.  

But then, I went to Sète.  Sète is this beautiful port city about 20 minutes away from Montpellier by train.  It was here that I rediscovered what I like about France.  I hiked up to the top of Mont Saint Clair, and the view was intense.  The Mediterranean looked so amazingly vast, and I was so high up that as I looked along the coast I could see the shape of the land that would be drawn on a map (this is slightly abstract...sorry).  Then we sat outside along the river and drank beer at three in the afternoon.  This is what I call perfection, relaxing beyond comparison.  I was immediately no longer as angry as I was about having to leave Morocco, nor was I pissed at French life.  

I feel this is as good a time as any to discuss some of the things that have changed about me since coming here.  First off, I have without doubt caught the travel bug.  I feel I will be doing a lot of this over the next 10 years or so.  They won't get mad if I just decided not to pay back my student loans right?  Didn't think so.

Additionally...laundry.  Those of you who know me very well know that I normally wear something and then wash it (I'd maybe wear pants twice).  This is no longer the case.  It is absolutely impossible to do this in France.  Laundromats cost way too much to use them very often, so I wash everything that I can by hand.  Thus, I have no problem wearing something to the point that I can't even exist in the same room with it because it smells so bad.  I can't decide whether this is a good development or not.  

Showering: Completely optional.  I usually shower everyday, but use of soap has become an every other day thing.  Sorry...is this gross?  I don't know.  I'll probably go back to normal when I get back to the states.  I believe there is a slight water/energy crisis in France, so hot water doesn't last very long.  Most of my friends have to pay for their water, so they shower far less.  Mine is included in my rent, a rarity in France to be sure.  The stereotype of French people smelling badly isn't really true.  The vast majority smell just fine, but there are those who can be smelled from miles away.  I only strive to not be one of these people.

The pace at which I exist has not only slowed down, it has pretty much come to a complete halt by comparison to how I used to live.  I'm very content just going somewhere and sitting there, doing absolutely nothing.  Most of the time, wandering around the streets of Montpellier for an entire day is all it takes to fulfill me.  Of course, as I mentioned above, there are certain days where this drives me crazy, but most of the time it doesn't.  I still find streets here that I've never ventured down.  The streets are so complicated that they usually end up leading you back to the Place de la Comédie (the main city center) even though you didn't want to go there, so finding no routes is not easy.

At the same time, my sense of adventure has been kicked into gear.  I go hiking quite a bit, which is something I normally don't seek out in the states.  This might be simply because there are mountains here.  Coming from Illinois and living in Minnesota doesn't give you much opportunity for mountain climbing.  In fact, the highest elevation in Minneapolis is the witch's hat tower...it takes maybe a minute to walk up the hill on which it is situated.  Keep in mind, all of this hiking doesn't mean that I have lost any weight...quite the contrary.

Okay, so this took me about four days to write.  I have the attention span of a golden retriever puppy these days.  I'll write more soon.

Corey

I think therefore I greve

I have a theory that this is actually what Descartes said, and the French just changed it up to make it sound profound.  Greve is the French word for strike.   France is known worldwide for its strikes, and let me tell you, this is one stereotype that is incredibly true. The above picture is where I'm supposed to have class tonight....

Practically since the moment I got here, my university has been on some level of strike or another.  More recently, it has intensified significantly, which is what prompted me to write about it.  Originally, the professors went on strike, saying that they were unhappy with several new measures the government wants to take in education reform.  I won't bore you with the details of these reforms as I have been drilled on them far too often myself.  I assure you though, to an average American, they seem like nothing to get your knickers all bunched up about.  Anyway, for the past month, I have been going to class never actually sure if it was going to take place.  Most of the time, however, it did.

This previous Tuesday, I had a "dissertation" (this doesn't have the same sense as in English, it's what we would call a paper or an essay) due in my literature class.  As per usual, I put off writing it until the night before and merely decided to pull an all-nighter.  I finished my paper around 1 in the afternoon the following day (with a break for a different class in between).  At approximately 1:15 I got the word that the university had been blocked.  This basically means that the students decided to join the strike efforts of their professors and in doing so, blocked off all the doors to all of the buildings with piles of chairs, tables, and various other pieces of junk.  A little dramatic, don't you think?

Needless to say, ca me fait chier (the French for "I'm pissed off"...literally it translates to "that makes me shit...HAH).  To begin with, I'm all for socialized education being that I'm currently more than 50,000 dollars in debt to various banks and government organizations.  I love the fact that all these French student pay a minimal 300 euros or so for a year of college.  This doesn't change the fact that I have to pay out my ass to go here, and if I'm going to do that, I at least want to receive some semblance of an education.  Additionally, if my courses continue to not meet, the University of Minnesota program department here makes us write papers to make up for the missed classes.  I would prefer not to do this.  Lastly, I was slightly chagrinned about having stayed up all night to write the paper that I was physically prevented from turning in by a pile of furniture.  

My first inclination has been to scream at the top of my lungs, "STOP WHINING AND GO TO SCHOOL YOU LAZY TWITS!"  Instead, I'm just trying really hard to understand.  I'm coming to realize that it is incredibly difficult for Americans to fully comprehend the greve.  I got a laugh out of a teacher when I said that "La grêve est la manière dont les français exprime leur mécontentement."  Or, the strike is quite simply how the French express their malcontent.  It replaces what we call "writing an angry letter" or "making a slightly miffed phone call."  The French instead head directly to the streets.  I had a professor last semester that said, "Real change only comes when you take to the streets."  Granted, this man confessed to having only voted for the socialist workers party in every election he's ever voted in.  Their candidate for president in 2008, Roger Calero, got a rousing 356 votes in the state of Minnesota, and I'm pretty sure that was one of his better showings.  So really, I'm not sure how smart this professor of mine was.  

At the end of the day, I've decided I merely lack sympathy for professors that refuse to teach over marginally trivial matters of state.  These are people who have supposedly dedicated their lives towards the pursuit of education and passing what they know down to the next generation.  Strikes quite simply interrupt the academic process.  In this way, they don't add any sort of validity, which I believe is the point of the greve in the first place.  

To quote Monty Python...and now for something completely different.

I'm having an impossibly lazy day in Montpellier right now.  To be honest, I haven't left my bed yet except for the necessities.  I've been reading this terrible book called "A Year in the Merde" about an incredibly pompous and self-involved British man who lived in Paris for a year.  Some of his commentary on French life is very true.  Such as, yes there is dog shit everywhere.  Yes, they do use suppositories (I know right???).  And yes, they eat cheese here that smells like something out of my high school locker room.  A friend came over last night who has actually been living in France for quite some time now.  We bought a wheel of cheese to have with dinner which she promised only had a "slight smell" to it.  This was utter bullshit.  Before I knew it, my entire apartment was overpowered by a face wrinkling stench.  I had to pull out every single experience I've ever had on stage as to not seem uncultured.  But that's neither here nor there.  I think this lazy day was inspired by a recent realization that it is absolutely impossible to always be moving, even if you're only in Europe for 5 months.  I have a tendency of feeling guilty every minute I'm not up doing something adventurous.  Quite frankly, I don't have that kind of money or energy anymore.  I don't know what it is, but I feel markedly older than most of the other people on this program.  This is probably because I only have the capacity to get drunk once or twice a week.  

However, next weekend I'm going to Morocco with what energy I have left.  There I am meeting my friends Colin and Irina from school.  The original plan was for me to go for the entire week, skipping a week of school.  But unfortunately, with the strike likely to be over by then, if school happens, I absolutely must go.  I also have a test in one of my courses that is specifically for foreign students, which meets greve or not.  So I was thus forced to turn it only into a weekend getaway.  I'm pretty sure Colin and Irina are mad about this.  Otherwise, I feel like I'm running out of time to get everywhere that I want to before the end of the semester.  I haven't found anyone to travel with after the semester is over yet, and I'm not even sure if I'll have the money/energy to do it.  So time is of the essence.  I still want to get to Switzerland, Spain, Italy, Germany, Prague, and Greece.  Hmph....somehow I feel like that won't happen.  

Overall, here's what I've learned about French people since moving here.  The French have turned merely existing in daily life into an art form.  There's a specific and complicated skill to everything here.  Buying bread at the patisserie requires more than just knowing the words for different kinds of bread.  One must purchase it like the French do, or risk being outed as tourist.  Certain breads are only purchased at certain times of day.  Others are baked merely for immediate consumption.  These are things you can't possibly know until you've lived here for a bit.  Getting service in a restaurant...forget about it.  This requires a coach and many practice sessions per week.  Just getting people to warm up to you is difficult.  In the states, I usually make some sarcastic, yet not insulting, joke to break the ice.  The French don't understand sarcasm though, and jokes of any nature simply won't suffice.  It's become kind of a game for me trying to get shopkeepers to smile.  I doubt I'll ever win though.  

Alright...enough now.

Best,

Corey