Pumpkin Spice Anything

Morocco has changed me, I fear. I came here expecting to learn how to speak refined news media Arabic, as well as the local dialect, but instead I’m leaving having adopted the lexicon and habits of a 19-year-old girl from the Utah suburbs. In between classes, I drink hot chocolate from Starbucks while listening to Katy Perry on my headphones. After school, I go on hot girl walks to get sweet treats and spill tea with my queens. On the weekends, I engage in hours of retail therapy while discussing my skincare routine and go to poorly produced musicals and rom-coms. Just this week, I spent too much of my time doing Black Friday dress shopping and watching one of my girlies get her nails painted while strategizing with another one how to get her study abroad crush to make a move. And let’s not forget all the seasonal baking I did this week. Please, give me pumpkin spice anything! 

While that paragraph might be a little tongue-in-cheek, there’s some truth to it—and some of my favorite moments on this program have come from doing stuff like this. One such day was this past Tuesday, which is when I participated in the baking I previously mentioned. A few of the female students on this trip have become close with an American woman, Amy, who works at the embassy, and she sometimes invites them over to her beautiful, modern apartment on the outskirts of Rabat to use her kitchen or just relax and unwind. This week, she very kindly decided to open up the invitation to the men in the program. Around 6:00 in the evening, one other guy and I joined six girls in going to Amy’s house to burn through 24 cans of pumpkin puree she was trying to get rid of. We crowded into her kitchen and cranked out pumpkin cookies, bars, muffins, breads, and cream cheese frosting. I’m not much of a baker, but I’m great at pulling things out of cupboards, figuring out how to use the dishwasher, and getting in the way, so I was useful. Not only did Amy let us invade her kitchen and trust us not to break any of her stuff, but she also provided us with a KFC dinner, which was delicious—at least until the Colonel exacted his revenge 12 hours later and caused me to miss half a day of school. And, in addition to the food, she had DOGS! I haven’t pet a dog in months since all the ones I encounter are sketchy-looking strays like the large boxer I have to walk past every day on the way home from school, so it was gratifying to play with her chocolate labs. It was a pleasant evening and really helped me to feel the holiday spirit, which is pretty difficult to come by in Morocco. 

Speaking of holidays, I also had the chance to celebrate Thanksgiving Moroccan-style. Actually, the only thing Moroccan about it was that I celebrated while in Morocco, but we can pretend. You might remember from an earlier blog that I went to an American family’s home to enjoy a Halloween party. Well, this generous family offered to host our entire cohort, along with a number of other Americans, at their home for Thanksgiving dinner. I showed up expecting a moderate amount of food, maybe just around enough for me to have a full plate and leave satisfied, only to discover a mind-boggling feast. Seriously, there was so much food I felt absolutely no shame in crowding my plate until I thought it would bend. Not only was there enough food to go around, but this was also my first opportunity to eat a Thanksgiving meal outside in 65-degree weather, which was a little strange but not unwelcome. After we’d eaten, the enlightened among us turned on the NFL game while some other weirdos sang Christmas carols in the corner. I appreciate Noël as much as the next American consumerist, but the turkey’s corpse wasn’t even cold, and people were already singing about a reindeer with weaponized birth defects. Actually, I’m just kidding—I think Thanksgiving night is the perfect time to welcome the Christmas season. After a few hours, my roommates and I headed home, where I attempted to watch the new Frankenstein movie. You might recall my disdain for that tale from before, and don’t think I’ve changed my attitude; I’m convinced nothing can save that wretched story. Movie notwithstanding, it was fun day, and definitely a Thanksgiving to remember. 

As I suspected in a recent blog post, these last few weeks haven’t had much going on outside of the ordinary, and so I think these highlights bring me to the end of this week’s account; however, that is not the only thing coming to an end. Indeed, it is the evening of my last Sunday here in Morocco. This time next week, I will be writing my blog in Qatar, or maybe in an airport en route to the Arabian Peninsula—I’m not sure. Regardless, it won’t be in Rabat. When I first arrived, I didn’t imagine this day would ever come. I was staring down 15 weeks in a strange country, studying a language I didn’t understand, and spending all day, every day, with unfamiliar people. Now, I have arrived at the end. As I sit here in my room, I’m reflecting on the lessons I’ve learned here, of which there are many. Some are personal, others unpleasant, and quite a few will take much more reflection on my part. There are those lessons too that were unexpected but have nevertheless helped me to come to know myself better. I may share some of them in an upcoming post, and I may not—I haven’t decided. Regardless, there are still three weeks to go and more of this program to experience. This coming week, I take my final exams and prepare to leave this country. It has been a great experience, one of the most important I’ve had, and I’m grateful that I could be here and share parts of it with you. Next week’s post will be the final entry in the Morocco chapter, as well as the beginning of something completely new. I’m not sure what to expect, but I know it’s where I’m supposed to be right now. Bring on December! تبارك الله