Moroccolypse Now

There are some classic works of literature I can wholly endorse. Crime and Punishment , for instance, is a thrilling tale of a killer’s descent into madness at the hands of his own culpability. Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird  examines prejudice, innocence, and courage. As I Lay Dying , by Faulker, is one of my favorites—despite all its oddities. However, there’s one classic I’ve never really gotten all the hype about: Frankenstein . Maybe it’s because I had the displeasure of reading it for a college-level humanities class (if you know, you know), or maybe it’s because my simple-minded idea of good science fiction is Sigourney Weaver using a grenade launcher to raze some Xenomorphs in Aliens  (at this point, I’ve realized I’ve made a reference to a film in every one of these blog entries so far, so I guess this is a theme I’m going to continue to run with). So why, you’re probably (not) wondering, is this blog titled Frankenstein ? I’ll tell you. My week was, in a word, bo...

  I’ve always been of the opinion that barbers are not to be trifled with. For one thing, they’ve got you confined to a chair wearing a cape that makes you look like you’re one outburst from a stint in the looney bin, so you’re already disadvantaged before you even open your mouth. For another, they’re operating an arsenal of sharp objects very close to a lot of useful apparatuses like, I don’t know, ears—just to name one. And all this while they hold the power to completely butcher your visual appearance with a bad haircut should you offend them. I have another opinion that I hadn’t formed until just this week, but it is one that I am now firmly encamped in: at no point should fire ever be used in a barbershop. Yes, this week in Morocco, I got a haircut, and if I never had to go back again, it would still be too soon.  In my optimism, I thought going to a barber would be a good way to get some language practice. In truth, it might have been, except for the fact that the man w...

  Have you ever seen the movie The Bourne Ultimatum ? If you haven’t, I would recommend it—insofar as you’ve seen the preceding two films, enjoy mindless violence, and don’t mind cinematography that looks like the cameraman strapped a camera to their head, drank a fifth of whisky, and rode a tilt-a-whirl right before the director called “action.” No, it’s actually a great movie! One of my favorite parts of the film takes place in Tangier (real quick, Moroccans call Tangier ‘Tanja,’ so I’ll refer to it that way), with awesome action scenes that see Jason Bourne sprinting across the rooftops of the old medina. I’ve always wanted to go ever since watching that film for the first time, and this week, I got to! Sadly, my trip did not involve exploding motorcycles, suppressed German pistols, or knife fights, but we had a good time all the same. Let me tell you about it! My trip began in the wee hours (9am) of Saturday. My roommate, Wyatt, and I woke up and had a nice breakfast of tea, br...

  Last week’s pilot blog post was chock full of the thrills of travel, the anticipation of new adventure, the fulfillment of cultural enlightenment, and the peace of a satisfying vacation. This week’s chapter will highlight the drudgery of secondary education, the sadistic nature of university professors, the despair of victimized college students, and the frustration with a city that seems hell-bent on preventing the installation of AC units in any structure. Seriously, HVAC technicians must have one of the highest rates of unemployment in this place—second only to urban planners. Okay, so it’s actually not that bad. Seriously. Rabat’s a pretty cool place, but, like any good casualty of colonialism, it isn’t without its quirks, and I’m sure my twelve days of residency here have been more than satisfactory for me to get a complete and accurate understanding of this place—one that definitely isn’t loaded with ignorance and biases I’ve been spoon-fed by American media outlets and mov...