Family Schmamily

After three nights with the host family, I decided it wasn't for me, and swiftly made my way back to the Villa. Don't get me wrong; living with a family was a wonderful experience. The family was sweet and kind, the mother was a wonderful chef, and they were extremely respectful of my privacy (which, apparently, can be quite rare amongst Moroccan households), but I couldn't get used to having a new set of "parents" to check in with all the time. I've been living in this country for over two months on my own time, on my own schedule, and to be living on someone else's agenda was a bit too much for me. Now, I am living in the Villa for the rest of my stay in Fez--which is only two days from now--and then off I go to the South. Oh well, I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

After moving back into the Villa, I've had nothing but nonstop Moroccan magic falling in front of me. Friday consisted of couscous with one of my friend's host mother, Fatima. The couscous was by far the best I've had yet, which only got better when it was followed by tea, cookies, and a henna party, which was held in preparation for Kendell's birthday party, scheduled to take place the next day. Even though Kendell was turning twenty-four, her party was more similar to that of an eight-year-old's, but despite that, it was the best birthday party I've been to since I can remember. We sat around and danced with a live ganawa band, ate cookies, drank mint tea, ate more cookies, drank coffee, ate cake, and danced some more until our bodies could no longer take the abuse.

Kendell, the birthday girl, and me with our henna hands. After getting the paste on, Fatima wrapped our hands in toilet paper and then covered them with socks so as to keep the paste on longer, which yields a darker henna stain.

close-up of my henna

After eating our weight in confections, I went to Chefchaouen with a few friends from school. Chefchaouen is a little city about four hours north by bus, known for its blue walls and mountains. There, we managed to go hiking on the trails, tour the Kasbah, stay in a 50 dirham hostel where the sheets were constantly slightly damp, drinks lots of coffee, and eat lots of candied peanuts. My friend Yan and I met a man who called himself Rashid Couscous; he sold blankets of "a thousand colors", wanted to trade Yan "a thousand camels for [my] smile", and then ended our meeting with "a thousand thank-yous". He was possibly my favorite part of Chefchaouen, coming close to our hike to the ruined Spanish mosque.

Jimmy, beginning the ascend to the top of the mountain

View from the minaret

In other news, but still very important, Jordana made it to Nepal! I'm so excited that she and I have been lucky enough to undertake such adventures at the same time. The Grodek clan is currently touching three continents right now, yaa Allah! Pretty soon the world will be saved--or at least a little part of it--one Grodek at a time.

B'salama,
Danielle