Chowing Down Some Jordanian Maqlouba

Sometimes when you travel, you set goals for yourself as to what you'd like to accomplish that day. Let's say for example you're in Paris. In Paris, you must, of course, visit the Tour Eiffel, Sacré Couer, Moulin Rouge, and perhaps other landmarks. Some people get a kick out of going to these historical, architectural wonders. I too enjoy taking in the scenery, but other times I like to indulge other senses. So when I woke up in Kerak, already on my third day of what was supposed to be a one-day visit, I got up with only one goal in mind— EATING MAQLOUBA!

The Peace Corps volunteer (PCV), Peace Corps trainee, and I had a very light breakfast so as not to spoil our hunger. Last time when I was treated to mansef, I was not as hungry as I could have been. I didn't want to make that mistake again. Jordanian families like Moroccans don't just suggest that you eat more; they order you to eat and I was planning to comply.

We walked to the Christian part of the town and arrived at the home of a Christian family that had befriended the PCV.  Upon entering, we were engulfed by an assortment of aromas indicating that something good was in the works. Our empty stomachs were ready. The father took us directly to the dining room, seated us, and then called his grand-kids and son to the table. The mother was still rummaging around the kitchen setting the table and giving a large pot its final stir.



Maqlouba

Then came the moment we were all waiting for: the unveiling of maqlouba. The mother brought over a the large pot and a serving tray, placed the serving tray on the pot, and flipped the contents of the pot onto the serving tray in one swoop. In front of us was a mix of Jordanian basmati rice, fried cauliflower and eggplant, and what looked like pan-fried chicken. It looked messy, but it smelled delicious.

Jordanian Maqlouba

The mother and father went about filling our plates. I savored every bite trying to take in all the flavors and spices. I ate and ate until I could eat no more. Everything in that dish was so juicy. The cauliflower and eggplant were cooked just right. The chicken had been seared, but it was still tender. It was a wonderful combination of ingredients that produced another Jordanian masterpiece.

Shortly after filling our stomachs to the brim, the mother brought over some pitch black Turkish-style coffee. A sip of that and any desire to lay down quickly dissipates, and perhaps it was given to us for a reason. Any normal person would simply collapse after that meal. We still had to walk a few kilometres back to the PCV's house.

Jordanian Red Bull - Turkish style coffee

The father told us that he had private classes starting in a few minutes. That was our cue to go, but not before exchanging hugs with both the father, mother, high-fives with the two young boys, and thanking everyone profusely for the marvelous hospitality they bestowed upon us.

Our gracious host

Once again, I thanked my lucky stars and the cosmic forces of the universe for what had just transpired. I didn't see any tall buildings or historical landmarks, but I was fortunate to have been the recipient of some amazing Jordanian hospitality. Muslim or Christian, they have given me the best that they could offer and did it out of the kindness of their heart. We shared stories, ate together, and sipped a little coffee or sweet tea to cap our encounter. I'll forever remember maqlouba and the folks that made that day a day to remember.

___________

Click here for maqlouba recipe Jordanian style.

Is Your RPCV Exhibiting Errant Conversations Syndrome?

Just recently, Peace Corps released the latest in a string of public service announcements (PSAs) commemorating the agency's 50 years of service to the United States and many parts of the world.  One PSA in particular captured my attention because it did an excellent job of portraying the random anecdotes I've been sharing with friends and family when I come across something that reminds me of my time in Morocco.

When greeting people for instance, I've been shaking people's hand as you customarily do here in the States, but now I proceed, as I did in Morocco, to place my right hand near to my heart to show my respect or to express how dear that person or that encounter is to me.  In Morocco, it was second nature to follow the handshake with a tap to one's heart, and despite being back home with old friends and in a completely different setting, my body almost involuntarily follows the same process.  Sometimes I catch myself in the act or others point it out, and explaining the gesture is often a topic of an errant conversation.

As far as language, I miss speaking darija.  The Moroccan Arabic dialect was fun to speak.  Phonetically speaking, it was a challenge to sound off the "ع" (aain) or "غ" (ghain) or the back of the throat "ق" (qa) or even the emphatic D, T, or to differentiate between the airy "ه" (similar to the 'h' for hello) or the raspy "ح" (similar to the sound you make to check if your breath smells).  During the first few months of service, combining some of these sounds seemed impossible, but after some time my tongue somehow came to accords with the sounds my ear was finally able to recognize and distinguish and slowly began to mimic them 'to the t'.

Even more challenging was understanding the hidden or indirect messages in Moroccan speech.  During training we were told that Moroccans used a ton of what our cultural and language facilitators called "God phrases" as part of their everyday language.  So instead of saying goodbye, they would say llah y3nk (God help you).  To thank someone for a good deed or to ask for a favor, they could say 3afak (the equivalent of please), but in most cases they would say llah yrHm l-walidin (God bless your parents) and my all-time favorite, preceding or following any statement calling for or mentioning any future action, insh'allah (God willing).

When I first arrived in site all 'gun ho' about starting a new project and building community support for it, I spoke to a number of people and tried to persuade them to join me in addressing some of the expressed needs of the community, but towards the end of our meetings, a large number of people would simply finish off our conversations with an insh'allah.  While it is true that we do not know what will happen tomorrow and we have little control over the future, being told that it was all up to God's will seemed a little fatalistic to me.  Later on though, I learned that the use of insh'allah was not only a way to show respect to the all-knowing God, but it was also used to say 'no' without offending the other person or to express that something is unlikely to happen.

Later on when people recognized that my speaking abilities had improved and I had demonstrated some fundraising capacity, some of the same people that had inshalla-ed me before began proposing their project ideas to me.  Unfortunately, by then I had already made commitments to other groups and had enough work for the rest of service, so without offending them, I respectfully inshalla-ed them back.

Back in the states, some people have proposed going to such and such an event or organizing something, and I've involuntarily blurted out insh'allah and I'm not doing it out of respect to God (although I respect It greatly), but mainly because the event or the activity does not appeal to me.  Sometimes I catch myself and sometimes others catch me saying it and wonder what the heck came out of my mouth, but then I explain that I do not know if I can or will be able to because it truly is up to God.  I say that I can't rule it out, but that I'd rather defer to God because no one really knows what the future may bring.  Unfortunately, this answer does not fly with most of my friends who still interpret this answer as some sort of newfound religious piety--not at all consistent with my beliefs and lifestyle--and not as a cordial way to say 'I am really not that interested'.  Then again, most U.S. Americans prefer directness, which is a cultural aspect that I've had to get readjusted to and that is often another subject of an errant conversation.

See the minute-long PSA titled "Conversations" below:    



Errant Conversation Syndrome (ECS) is common among all RPCVs.  Most exhibit symptoms throughout their lifetime.  They speak about their projects, language challenges, cultural differences, past bowel movements, pros and cons of Peace Corps, and a host of other service-related experiences.  At this time, there is no known "cure" (nor should there be) for this phenomenon, but I hear that active listening and a non-judgmental attitude are always welcomed.  And who knows? You may learn a thing or two from all these random pieces of information.  Thanks for reading.

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If you'd like to learn more darija, please visit the Friends of Morocco page on Learning Moroccan Arabic. I've also selected a few books on one of the recommended book widgets.  BssHa to your learning!

To watch other Peace Corps PSAs, please visit: http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.psa

So You Want To Join Peace Corps

I just had to pass this along.  I haven't laughed this hard in I don't know how long.  An RPCV put together a brief YouTube video of a conversation between a young man who just finished his Peace Corps application and a parent or friend who is all too aware of the cultural misunderstandings and frustrations and the emotional and physical challenges that the young man may encounter during his service.

The various bits on the gastrointestinal issues, picking out "worms like zits", the local, organic foods myth, experiencing what winter is really like without any heating, the occasional hermit phase that many volunteers go through, and the case of the overbearing and bureaucratic supervisors are so spot on.  I had first-hand experience with a few of these and some others were expressed by fellow volunteers.  So many memories flashed through my mind with each exchange.

Some people may feel that this video discourages anyone from joining, but I would beg to differ.  I think a dose of reality is necessary, and I think glossing over the difficulties or side effects of serving is worse.  I think a lot of young people need a sense of idealism to get through the rough patches, but they shouldn't be naive.  In a way that quixotic idealism is perhaps what prompts volunteers to help build a school where there was no school, set up a computer lab where there was none, foster the growth of a small business despite its many naysayers, or raise the self-esteem of young women in a society that does not value their input.  Sometimes you are able to accomplish the goals you set out for yourself and other times you fail miserably for a variety of reasons that may or may not be under your control.

Let's say hypothetically that I was able to go back to the past on a Back to the Future's DeLorean Time Machine (I've always wanted to, and yes, this movie reference is pretty old) knowing what I know now about my Peace Corps experience to the time when I decided to go.  Would I still go? Absolutely!  I was challenged personally and even professionally.  I'm not sure how you can measure personal growth, but I do agree with French novelist Marcel Proust who said, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”  Living in Morocco and traveling through the Middle East and Europe have exposed me to different ways people have decided to carry out their lives, and the journey has obliterated the notion of what we Americans consider to be the normal, usual, or the customary way of life.

I think it's difficult to understand another vantage point unless one is fully immersed in another, but it doesn't take a trip or an extended stay overseas to notice differences.  The U.S. is fortunate to have little pockets of people from all over the world that have established restaurants, businesses, and places of worship that reflect their values where one can get a taste of that culture.  And I guess if one is still wanting more, then of course, one should head out and plunge in to get the full experience.

So you want to join  the United States Peace Corps? If you have the time and the financial means to do so, do it!  Beware of the hardships.  Then, when you've had time to reflect a bit, come back to tell us what you've learned and what you've seen.  Enjoy the video and go ahead and finish your application already!




More travel quotes at: http://thinkexist.com/quotations/travel/

Walk the Abraham Path and Then Couchsurf It!

Couchsurfing host in Jordan

A dear friend of mine sent me an interesting TED Talk, which focuses on the need to build upon William Ury´s idea of what he calls "The Third Side".  Mr. Ury said that in conflict there are always two sides and the third side is the one that we all share--our common humanity.  He speaks of how Abraham exemplified hospitality and the unity of us all and proposes that people retrace the steps of Abraham from cradle to grave to understand and to connect with the people of this region who to this day display the same hospitality that Abraham showed thousands of years ago.  Ury adds, "Abraham is not just a figure in a book for these people; he is a living figure."

Couchsurfing hosts in Israel

I agree with Mr. Ury and his belief that traveling, touring, and walking alongside others on the Abraham Path or any other corner of the world has the potential to reduce the fear and hostility between us.  As Mark Twain once said, "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness" and in the words of French novelist Marcel Proust, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

Couchsurfers in Amman

I would take Mr. Ury's idea a bit further and urge people to invest a little time in getting to know the region and the people you plan to visit.  Just knowing how to say basic greetings in the local language, however choppy or mispronounced it may be, brings smiles to people's faces.  The locals will appreciate the effort and most likely reward you with an invitation for coffee, tea, or even a homemade meal.

Eating a bit of Maqlouba in Jordan

I've been fortunate to experience the amazing hospitality that Mr. Ury spoke of.  Throughout my travels, I couchsurfed with Jordanians, Bedouins, Israelis, Moroccans, Spaniards, Italians, Dominicans, and lots of fellow expatriate Americans.  Some gave me a place to stay and others took me to their favorite hangout spots.  Those that I stayed with gave me the best that they could offer and made me feel like family and others introduced me to their circle of friends.  Time after time, I was blown away by this gesture of kindness and goodwill offered to a complete stranger.

Late last year, I hosted a number of couchsurfers in Morocco.  I had a great time hosting people from around the globe with such different points of view and experiences.  I learned a great deal about myself from our exchanges and made great friends in the process.  Couchsurfing is a wonderful experiment that falls in line with Mr. Ury's idea of turning "hostility to hospitality" and "terrorism to tourism".

I hope that wherever I end up that I can continue to host more couchsurfers.  If you've never heard of couchsurfing, take a moment to check it out.  Host, couchsurf, or simply meet folks for a little drink.  I and other couchsurfers will be eternally grateful, and my hope is that you'll learn from me as much as I hope to learn from you.  Hope to see you in my next couchsurf search!

Good luck and bon voyage!  


FYI: Couchsurfing is not the only website linking travelers and locals.  It is perhaps the most popular with perhaps more profiles than others.  Recently, Couchsurfing changed from a non-profit to a "socially responsible" corporation.  I have no problems with the status change because being a non-profit does not make an organization more noble by any means, but as a corporation it is likely that soon they may begin selling member info to marketers similar to other social media platforms so careful what you post.  Here is a list of other travel sites I've been using in place of Couchsurfing:

www.bewelcome.org - similar to couchsurfing
www.tripping.com - combines couchsurfing with paid temporary stay accommodation options
www.airbnb.com - paid temporary accommodation options.  Great for group vacation rentals or temp house/flat exchange. 

Jerusalem - On Holy Ground

So much could be said about the Holy City and I guess a lot of what has been said is probably framed by one's religious fervor or indifference. For many Christians, going to the Holy City is not a requirement of their faith, but many dream of going there. For Muslims, it is recommended that they perform a hajj (pilgrimage) to al-Quds al-Sharif (Arabic name for the City of Jerusalem meaning “The Holy Sanctuary”) or more specifically to the Al-Aqsa Mosque and Dome of the Rock to pray at the site where the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, ascended to heaven. For many Jews, it is the site of the Holy of Holies.  

I've never been big on visiting museums, monuments, statues, and other still-life objects; instead, I've always found it more interesting to observe how people interact with one another, the power dynamics, the social structure, to learn a bit about the history and the expectations of the people, to understand the meaning behind their choice of attire and to get a glimpse of what they value most. So when I walked into the Holy City, I wanted to see what made this city so special, so sought after that epic battles were fought to gain control of it with every group believing that they were "in the right", that the city needed to be rescued or saved from the others, and that it needed to cleansed, restored, and revived under the new group's perceived rightly guided leadership. I thought to myself, "What is it about this city that in the process of reclaiming it from another group drove men to slaughter thousands of others? Was it its geographical location, the surrounding natural resources, or commercial or economic interests? Or was it simply symbolic?"

In my reading of The Bible and that of other religious books, I don't recall any passage mentioning how important Jerusalem was in terms of its geographical location. The New Testament does speak of how Jerusalem once was and to some extent still is a major commercial center in the region. As far as natural resources go, Jerusalem doesn't have a large body of water to draw from, is inland about 60km from the nearest port in Tel Aviv, and relies upon the Mediterranean winter rains to restore some green to the countryside after their hot and dry summers. So if I was to launch a campaign to take over the Holy City (not that I ever would, but hypothetically), I wouldn't have much of an rallying call if I based it simply on geography or economic data, and I am pretty sure when the Jews, Crusaders, and Muslims alike called out the troops that none of them yelled out, “Let us march into the city and take over that commercial center and decent, but not all that great geographical location!” Nah, it was all about taking control of a city that was the site of the Holy Temple, the City of King David, and of King Solomon. To Christians, it was the place where the patriarch of their faith preached the gospel truth, and to Muslims, the City of All The Prophets. The history and events that had transpired in that small enclosed fortress city and the close affinity people felt to the stories that had served as a guide for their lives and gave their lives an identity and meaning were the very thing that motivated them to give up everything and risk their lives.

To this day, I believe that much of that religious zeal still remains. Fortunately, when I visited, the various groups exhibited their passion for their faith peacefully through processions and re-enactments, by reciting holy scriptures at the Wailing/Western Wall, celebrating bar mitzvahs, praying at the Al-Aqsa Mosque, paying homage to the various saints and prophets, retracing the steps where Jesus walked, preached, and later carried his cross on the Via Dolorosa, and visiting the many sanctuaries, chapels, churches, and synagogues.

I saw Muslims visiting the Holy Sepulcher, the place where Jesus was laid until he was resurrected, alongside Eastern Orthodox priests and believers. I walked through the catacombs of the Holy Sepulcher. Some of the bling that adorned the walls of the Holy Sepulcher seemed out of place in this sacred temple, but perhaps the Eastern Orthodox and other Christian groups that share responsibility for the upkeep of the church believe Jesus likes a lot of bling.

I went over to the Wailing/Western Wall and uttered a little prayer with many others who were reciting the Torah. Hassidic Jews with their side-burn dreads, black suit coats and pants, and black, thin-brimmed sombreros, and Jews, it seemed, from all corners of the world were there getting their arms strapped and their heads fitted with a custom-made rubber head-bumping protector before their praying marathon would ensue. The wall's many crevices were stuffed full of snippets of paper. 

Opposite of the Wailing/Western Wall, there was singing, clapping, and ululating as young boys and young men carried scrolls to wooden compartments throughout the entire Wailing/Western Wall. Men and women were segregated, but they interacted and celebrated together. Further down the Western Wall inside the tunnel, older gentlemen sat and recited scriptures. There was a small library that had countless volumes of what I presume to be religious scriptures or commentary from prominent rabbis.

I walked from one end of the city to the other, north to south and east to west, going in and out of the Christian, Muslim, Armenian, and Jewish Quarters. There were countless boutiques selling all sorts of artisana from the various communities that inhabited the city. I really liked the burgundy and black used by Palestinian weavers and the Armenian ceramics was exceptional. I found it odd to see Arabs selling Crusader memorabilia, but maybe they were Christians.

Other stores sold a host of Jewish menorahs, horn trumpets, woodcarvings of the manger, Mary and Baby Jesus were on mugs, t-shirts, and anything imaginable.  There were crosses, Stars of David, and crescent moons of all sizes were everywhere. Most of the bazaars were run by men in pretty much every quarter, who displayed their superb linguistic skills when pitching their products and negotiating prices. I heard them switching from one language to another in seamless fashion using Arabic, Hebrew, English, French, Spanish, and even some Russian. The call to prayer was loud and clear and so was the chime of the church bells.

 It seemed like pilgrims from every corner of the world were there. Some were just walking around like me, a lot were in organized tours, and others were deep into their religious procession stopping at different stages of the Via Dolorosa only to be interrupted by kids and other ambulant vendors attempting to sell them postcards and other memorabilia at every stop.

My only regret in coming to Jerusalem is that I only spent two nights there. While I got to walk through the Holy City and to witness the religious passion displayed by the many acts of faith from the various groups, I did not have a lot of time to talk to people or to get to experience the culture of the various groups and sub-groups that make Jerusalem their home. I was fortunate, though, to find an Israeli couple on Couchsurfing that opened their home and allowed me to stay with them for a couple of nights. They identified themselves as secular Jews. Both of them had traveled to various parts of the world and we shared photos and travel stories, but never spoke about the politics or what being a secular Jew meant.

The couchsurfer and the few locals that I spoke to all had a story to tell about how they or their family had come to Israel. My couchsurfing host was a first generation Israeli whose family had migrated from Argentina. From an early age, his family had spoken Spanish to him so he had a very good grasp of the language. We spoke in Spanish as much as possible and switched to English from time to time. He showed me around town a bit. He took me to the main market in the new city where we had some coffee at one of his favorite cafes.

At the market, you could hear a mix of Arabic and Hebrew, salam wa leikums and shaloms were exchanged. The Mediterranean produce was the main supply, but they also had a great variety of imported tropical fruits.  He then took me to a place that was selling all sorts of delicious fruit shakes from a self-professed medicine man. The shakes were awesome. I asked the medicine man if I could take a picture of him and he obliged, but not before spraying my face with one of his all-natural facial rejuvenation toners. It caught me by surprise. He also pulled my host and sprayed his face as well. He told us to massage our face so the potion would be absorbed faster. The spray felt refreshing, but as the liquid seeped into the corner of my eyes, it began to burn. He told me to keep my eyes shut, he pulled my host next to me, and said that I had good energy and that I had the potential to be a great healer. I thought, “Hmm, I'm unemployed right now. I hadn't thought about being a medicine man...new career path maybe.”

I also met an older gentleman who said he was born near Guercif, Morocco, and that his family had lived there almost their entire life before migrating to Israel. He had a lot of fond childhood memories of Morocco and of Moroccans. He asked me if I enjoyed living there to which I answered, "Eeh, mrra mrra (sometimes)." We communicated in a mix of Moroccan Arabic and English. It was quite a thrill to find another maghribi (Moroccan).

I had a great time in Jerusalem so much so that I hope to return again. I didn't get the chance to couchsurf through Palestine so I hope to do that next time. I think Jerusalem can mean different things to different people and I think a lot of it depends on how closely people feel to their faith. Those individuals that were in the middle of their processions on the Via Dolorosa would squint or close their eyes as they touched every place where Jesus is said to have fallen or stopped, and those that swayed back and forth in prayer in front of the Wailing/Western Wall would probably have a different take on their visit. Possibly during their prayer and recitations they enter a meditative realm that is perhaps giving life to what seems like inanimate buildings, streets and alleys to me. When I showed some of my Jordanian Muslim friends my pictures of the Dome of the Rock, they gasped in admiration. They certainly would tell a different story had they been there. But even if one does not partake of the processions, the energy, the passion, and the devotion of the believers is felt all around. To me, people were the thing that gave the city and all its holy sites their life. Without them, it would be just another city. With them there, I got the sense that I was walking on sacred ground.

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http://www.goisrael.com

There are a few books that I was lucky to read in college and on my own that expand on the three Abrahamic faiths and provide more context on the historical significance of Jerusalem.  If you have the chance, pick 'em up at your local library or add them to your personal collection.

    

In Jordan - A Taste of Life In Jordan's Shamal

I arrived in a town close to Irbid on November 15 and learned that the following day would be the start of Leid l-Kbir, the grand feast celebrated by the sacrificial slaughtering of a sheep.  Because of all the festivities during Leid and with little to no public transit available, it meant that I would have to spend at least a couple of days in the volunteer's village.  I was no inconvenience for me; I was looking forward to the experience.

One of the reasons for traveling through Jordan and Egypt was to get a different taste of the Arab/Muslim World.  I was curious to see what if any similarities there were between the peoples of the Maghreb(West) and the Sarq al-Ousad(Middle East).  In Morocco, there was no question that they identified themselves with the Muslim World in terms of their faith, but when it came to ethnicity/heritage, some Moroccans were extremely proud of their Amazigh roots and saw the Arabization of the educational system as a continuation of Arab imperialism.  I had read in Peter Mansfield's A History of the Middle East that the Arab World was by no means a homogeneous bloc.  Political and cultural differences had existed for centuries.  Islam had unified the various tribes, but many of the cultural traditions that distinguished one tribe from the other continued.  I was hoping to see or experience these small subtleties.  I was also hoping to see how much of an impact Turkish rule had on the region.

Attempting to speak with the locals

I arrived in Jordan hoping that I could put to use a bit of the Moroccan Colloquial Arabic I had learned.  When I arrived, I was happy that I could pick out the numbers, but even the numbers sounded differently.  The /t/ for "Tom" used in tlata (three) or tlatin in Morocco was now replaced by the /Ө/ "th" for "think" and was now thlatha or thlathin.  The Moroccan juj for the number two was now ithnayn. I heard more "g"s in the place of the hard back-of-the-throat "q" sound. Instead of kif dayr for "how are you", I was now being greeted with a kayf f Halk or an even shorter kayfak.  Words like nishan for "straight" or aji for "come here" that have Amazigh/Berber roots were completely absent.

At the cafe and restaurant, I wanted to order a ns ns or half and half (Moroccan cappuccino) and some aatay (tea), but Jordanians would ask me, "What is it that you want half and half of and there is no such thing as aatay, but we do have chay".  For coffee, they either had 3adi (regular/normal) or wasit (medium) and those two options just told the waiter how much sugar to put.  I had to stick to root words and the few words of Fusha that I knew to get around, but even my pronunciation of those standard words was off.  When I asked for sugar (skkar), they would correct me by saying sukkar.

When addressing someone, I had used khouya (my brother) or sidi (my dear sir) to get someone's attention.  In Jordan, I heard more sadiqi (my loyal friend), sheikh (chief), and the Turkish basha (a title for a distinguished govt.official).

When scoping transportation options, telling someone maHtta (Darija word for station), I was told, will get you to the police station not the bus station. For the bus station, I had to use mujemma.  And to find out how much anything was, bshaHal got me blank stares, but gddesh got me the price.  Chnu for "what" was just chu.  Sometimes some people noticed my delayed reaction to their price offer and were kind enough to write the price out for me, but they would write it in Arabic numerals, which I never used in Morocco.  Saying the French tren for train, tobis for bus, or tomobil for car that are commonplace in Darija had to be replaced with the Fusha equivalents except for bus, which was just bus.  I could go on forever on how the dialects differed.  It was interesting because I could halfway understand what people were saying, but only a few could understand what was coming out of my mouth.  Fortunately, volunteers were there to fill in the gap and I am sure the exchange baffled Jordanians.  Here was this Arab-looking guy asking someone who was clearly a foreigner to speak on his behalf.

A volunteer I had met in Amman the night before and I left the city sometime late morning and took a Hijazi bus for less than 2JD to head over to Irbid where I would be meeting two more Peace Corps volunteers. We got off at Irbid's Amman Station and hopped on one of the many passenger vans/small buses that circled the city. We got off at University St, which was home to a long strip of restaurants, cafes, cybercafes, and shops. It looked like if anything happened in Irbid, it probably took place on this strip. We chilled out at a snack shop while the other volunteers arrived. I tried a few of the shop's specialty mojeena, a baked pastry with a variety of different fillings. I got a cheese one, one with meat, and another with spinach.

Mojenna

  

Gender Expectations: Similar and Different

The volunteers filled me in on their experience.  It was nice to a get a female perspective on the topic.  I was curious to find out how conservative Jordan was in comparison to Morocco.  Attire-wise, I did see more burqas and more niqabs than I had seen in Morocco, but I also saw a great number of ladies strutting their stuff with form-fitting western wear, high heels, full-on makeup, and a classy or flashy color-coordinated headscarf.  I told volunteers that I had worked primarily with women during my service and they were surprised that I had that much freedom to interact with the opposite sex.  Then I asked them about their service and all of them told me that they were working as TEFL Teachers or as Special Education Counselors,  but I was surprised to learn that all their classrooms were segregated and that in some cases girls and boys went to different schools.  That certainly was not typical of Morocco; most classrooms were integrated.

What took me most by surprise was our goodbyes.  I was ready to shake the hand of the female volunteer who had made all the initial contacts with other volunteers and had given me a wealth of travel tips, but when I extended my hand, she left me hanging and just waived goodbye.  Apparently, even a friendly shake could be misinterpreted by the locals.  That incidence, though, was indicative of how my experience in Jordan would be.  This moment when we exchanged a friendly conversation with a female was a rare moment; most of my time would likely be spent in the company of men.

Mi casa es su casa Jordanian style

So I arrived in a male volunteer's village later on.  We were invited to several households to have coffee and tea.  In one instance, we were invited to a colossal feast featuring Jordan's famous mansef.

Mouth-watering Mansef

The dish has an unleavened bread base that is then covered with a layer of a saffron-flavored rice-n-roni that is then topped with a seasoned, baked chicken with roasted peanuts and then doused with a tangy, yougurty broth.  I gorged on the food and exhaled a hamdullah(Thanks be to God).  It was a feast to remember.

Applying the tangy broth

I wanted to thank the cooks who had made this fabulous meal, but this was out of the question.  Even in Morocco, I sometimes did not meet the female members of the family until the 3rd or 4th meal(Three Meals Later) so I wasn't taken aback by it.  It was interesting, however, that in the few days I spent in the shamal (north) and visited a couple of homes,one in particular twice, I had no interaction with females.  That in most parts of Morocco would have been rare even for a foreigner.

Me and some FC Barcelona fans

Our male hosts treated us wonderfully.  I felt welcomed and I learned a great deal about the male side of Jordanian culture and etiquette.  They shared their love for football and we exchanged tid bits about our respective life experiences.

Coffee with town elder

They were curious to hear about my two years in Morocco.  They wanted to know if it was a nice place to live, how was the climate and food, how were the people, and if I had enjoyed my time there.  They were also eager to learn about Venezuela and my opinion on the controversial Venezuelan President, Mr. Hugo Chavez, a darling of the Middle East.  We spoke in a mix of English and Arabic.  Fortunately, the volunteer's friends were all sympathetic interlocutors.

I must say that after spending a few days in a village in the shamal when a Jordanian would tell me marhaba (welcome) or ahalan wa sahalan fik (Loosely translated, it means, "May you arrive as part of the family, and tread an easy path (as you enter)*, I felt that they really meant it and they went to lengths to show me that they did.  In terms of hospitality, Moroccans and Jordanians are neck and neck.

To some, chilling out in a village may seem like a waste of time given all the amazing sites and natural wonders in the world, but to me, observing the dynamics of village life, tasting the homemade cuisine, and talking with the locals are immensely satisfying and absolutely fascinating.  I've been fortunate to be the recipient of some of the finest hospitality imaginable both from Jordanians and from volunteers.  Their insight, connections, and assistance in helping me with the rest of my trip was invaluable.  I hope I can one day return to the favor to fellow sojourners.

*Translation source: http://forum.wordreference.com/showthread.php?t=170419
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My journey through the Holy Land continues.  Next, I'll share a bit of my experience walking through the Holy City of Jerusalem.  A guide is a nice handy reference, but I got tons of info from Jordan's own tourism site:

http://www.visitjordan.com/Default.aspx

They also have a lot of great pics and pdf files you can print out.

Traversing Morocco's South: "There Is No Paradise Without the Desert"

The other day I was watching an interesting interview on Riz Khan's One on One program that airs on Al-Jazzera English. The guest on the show was Nacer Khemir, a famous Tunisian cinematographer and writer. In the interview, he spoke about the importance of the desert in Arab culture.  He said that without the desert, there would be no paradise and "this quest for paradise is the true essence of Islam." He added that Arab civilizations are "constructed around a void." He pointed out that The Kaaba in Mecca, considered to be the center of the universe for Muslims, is an empty cube, good calligraphy is judged by the void, not the full, the desert is often described as both full and empty, and lastly he said that the word for the number zero also means empty, which explains why some people shout a number of obscenities at me from time to time and then finish by uttering the number zero. He tied it all in by saying, "It's the creation of emptiness inside you so that something can come. And if this emptiness is essential, the Divine arrives." See the full length interview below in which he also speaks of other challenges facing Arab culture and identity and Sufism. He provides a wealth of insight in just 20 minutes.



As I write this blog about my travels through the vast, sun-scorched wilderness of the south of Morocco, I can't help but think of some of the imagery Khemir mentioned.  I often wonder if the Holy Scriptures would have been significantly different if the prophets and apostles had lived in the tropical rainforests of my native Venezuela.  Would Moses have relayed the message to the Children of Israel about going to a 'land of milk and honey' if say they were already enjoying sweet and tangy pineapples, fat and juicy mangoes, mouth-watering papayas, just-like-butta avocados, fun-to-munch-on sugar cane, and getting their fill of the hearty cassava(yuca) and a host of other tropical fruits and veggies?  Would Moses have had to strike a rock if say the Amazon and Orinoco River and their many tributaries were already providing for their water needs?  Would there be so many references in the Qur'an about paradise if say they already lived in one?

Prior to coming to Morocco, I would say that I could sympathize with the Children of Israel, but I couldn't really empathize.  I just didn't have any real context to go by.  Growing up in Venezuela(politics aside), I thought I was already living in the Garden of Eden: lush green and beautiful scenery all around, delicious tropical fruits and veggies available, etc, etc.  When our family moved to the U.S., I lived in areas that were also blessed with frequent rains that kept the lawns and the agricultural fields green, and in Oklahoma and Indiana, deers were literally prancing around in the forest.  I had seen some dunes here and there, but they were mostly isolated patches of sand.  I once traveled through Arizona and Nevada and saw a bit of their deserts.  I was told that the wandering-through-the-wilderness portion of the epic Ten Commandments movie was filmed there, and I can see why they chose that location.  When I drove through, it certainly looked dry, rocky, and devoid of life as some parts of the south of Morocco do.  However, what the Arizona and Nevada deserts don't have is the striking contrast of a lush, green palmerie against the backdrop of a barren, rocky hillside.  Naturally, as you look out your taxi window to allow your mind to escape the cramped and smelly confines you find yourself in, your eyes gravitate to these clusters of green out on the plain, sprouting from a river bed, or wedged in a mountain ravine.  As you reach these oases and palmeries, you do get the urge to say "hamdulillah" (Thanks be to God) or to thank the cosmic forces of the universe for creating this small haven or paradise in the middle of this unbearably hot and hostile terrain.

While traveling through the south of Morocco, I guess you could say that I experienced somewhat of a revelation or better yet a grand clarification.  True, Morocco is really at the fringes of the Sahara and granted I only spent a total of 3 hours on a camel and took a bus to jump from one oasis to another, but I think that even this brief exposure gave me more context than I ever had about the realities and the dynamics at play in a harsh desert environment.

For instance, I can understand why some would be skeptical of people who live out in the desert wilderness and then come to an oasis city yelling that the end is near.  I would have probably handed that person a pitcher of water and then asked, "Now, what was it that you were trying to say?"  Or, I can empathize somewhat with the Children of Israel's reluctance to leave the fertile Nile Delta for a journey through the desert wilderness of the Sinai in order to reach the Promised Land.  I also understand why the Three Kings traveled by night.  They used the stars as their compass, but probably and just as important was their desire to avoid the heat.  I cannot imagine rocking back and forth on a camel in 100 degree plus heat.  Let's just say that after this trip, the stories in The Scriptures began to make a little more sense.

I'm actually heading to Jordan and Egypt after Close-of-Service or as Peace Corps now defines it, "Continuation-of-Service".  Starting November 14, I'm going to be retracing some of the steps Joshua and Moses took in leading the Children of Israel to the Promised Land, but I'm doing it all backwards.  I'm going to Jordan, maybe Israel, and then onto Egypt.  I first thought of going from the land of bondage to the Promised Land, but my frequent flyer miles and flight deals are forcing me to go the opposite way.  Is this a sign?  I should know when I reach Mt. Sinai.

I'm going to be visiting some Jordanian volunteers, crashing some hostels, and couchsurfing some of it.  I hope my Moroccan Arabic will help me get through the trip and allow me to understand a tidbit of what people are saying.  The sites I'm visiting are sites that I have read about ever since I was a kid.  Perhaps, when I arrive at the various sites I will receive another revelation or grand clarification.  Rest assured that if I do, I'll be sure to post it.    

In a future blog, I will expand on the rest of the places I visited on my southern trek with photos, hotel stays, travel tips, and all.  Thanks for reading.

Language and Identity: The U.N. Weighs In on Morocco

There's been an interesting development in what I like to call Morocco's language and identity conundrum.  The U.N's Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination issued a statement calling on Morocco to recognize Tamazight as an official language.  It's a remarkable piece of good news for the Imazighen.  International recognition is sometimes needed to exert pressure on those who hold the purse strings or serve as the regulatory gatekeepers.  I'm impressed by the Amazigh lobby's audacity to present its case to a much wider audience.  This pronouncement may just be one of many to come and may not reach its full potential, but it is nonetheless noteworthy. Speaking to the "international community" may help recruit more advocates and funding.

The Kingdom seems to be in agreement with promoting Tamazight through the newly formed Institut Royal de la Culture Amazigh, but some within the Amazigh community may feel that progress is much too slow.  From what I can understand, a number of recommendations were presented to the committee who then endorsed certain provisions.  I mentioned earlier in my first Language and Identity blog that there were activists pushing for the constitution to be written in Tamazight.  I don't think that option was presented, but the one granting Tamazight official status in the constitution was and the U.N. has agreed to back it.

Another issue that I have heard come up often among those closely aligned with their Amazigh roots is the restrictions on the issuance of names.  Currently under Moroccan law, Amazigh names are not permitted because they do not fall within what a judge deems to be "Moroccan".  The Amazigh argue that Amazigh names are Moroccan and that their names are more Moroccan than those sanctioned by the state, which tends to favor Arab names.  Recommendation #7 addresses this issue, which should shine more light on the law and perhaps lead to a restoration of Amazigh names.  It's bizarre to me that a government would burden itself over something like names, but it just goes to show how issues of identity are entrenched in Moroccan society and manifested in government policy.  I have not seen an official response from the government on the recent requests on Maghrebia as of yet.  I got the article from the Morocco Board News Service.  It is still fairly new.  Who knows?  Maybe these recommendations by the U.N. will bolster their claims and accelerate a redress to their demands.

One thing is for sure.  These "requirements" as the article states are bound to arouse a lot of debate about what Morocco,was, is, and will be.  The conundrum continues.


U.N. URGES MOROCCO TO INCLUDE TAMAZIGHT AS AN OFFICIAL LANGUAGE

Washington / Morocco Board News Service - On August 27, 2010 , at its seventy-seventh session, the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CRED) examined the reports submitted by Morocco in accordance with Article 9th of the UN Convention.

The Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CRED) of the United Nations has issued the following requirements from Morocco.

1 – To provide information on the composition of its population, the use of mother tongues, languages commonly spoken, and other indicators of ethnic diversity, and any other information from targeted socio-economic studies, conducted on a voluntary basis, in full respect of privacy and anonymity, so that the committee can evaluate the situation of the Moroccan population economically, socially and culturally.

2 – To enshrine in Morocco’s constitution the principle of the primacy of international treaties over domestic legislation, to allow individuals to invoke in Moroccan courts the relevant provisions of the Convention.

3 – Add a provision in the Moroccan criminal code for those crimes committed with a racist motive to be considered as an aggravating circumstance of racial discrimination.

4 – To step up its efforts to promote the Amazigh language and culture and its teaching, and to take the necessary measures to ensure that the Amazigh people are not victims of any form of racial discrimination.

5 – To consider the inclusion in the Moroccan Constitution of the Amazigh language as an official language and also to ensure that the Moroccan government literacy efforts are done in the Amazigh language.

6 – To put special emphasis on the economic development of the areas inhabited by the Amazigh people.

7 – To clarify the meaning and the scope in its legislation regarding the concept of " the Moroccan character of given names " and to ensure full implementation by the local administrations of the Moroccan Ministry of the Interior March-2010-circular relating to the choice of first names, to ensure the inclusion of all names, especially the Amazigh ones.

8 – To revise the Moroccan Nationality Code to allow Moroccan women to transmit their nationality to their foreign spouses on equal terms with men of Moroccan nationality.

9 – To take necessary measures to ensure the full implementation of the Family Code uniformly throughout the national territory and to protect the most vulnerable categories of its population, especially women and children living in remote areas, who can be victims of double or multiple discriminations.

Source: http://www.moroccoboard.com/news/34-news-release/1176-un-urges-morocco-to-include-tamazight-as-an-official-language

The Shamal Series Honorable Mentions: Volubilis, Oulmes, Mehdia Beach, and Mouley Bousselham

Continuing on with the Shamal Series, I'd like to present a few travel options that I think are worth a stop if you have the time.  I write these entries to let people know about other places other than your well-known tourist-magnet cities like Fez, Marrakesh, or Essaouira, in the hopes that you may have the chance to have as good a time as I had visiting these sites.

1) Volubilis (To Moroccans, Walili)

Actually, this first site is perhaps one of the most popular tourist spots in all of Morocco and draws thousands of people from around the world every year (The next site is out of the beaten path; I promise).  Volubilis is one of the largest ruins of Roman civilization in the Maghreb.  It is set in the middle of a wide open expanse of farmland.  According to my Rough Guide to Morocco, the Romans chopped down the trees in the region to make room for the cultivation of wheat and other grains and for olive trees that to this day border the hillside.  The place is pretty big and you do get the sense that you are in the midst of what used to be a vibrant commercial center.

I think what is cool about the place is how different the architecture and the layout of the city is in comparison to the medieval-esque medinas of Morocco.  The Romans expressed themselves artistically through imagery and exalted their nobles; as such, they created some very elaborate stone-pixel mosaics to enshrine for centuries to come those they admired. A sharp contrast to the Muslim cities where Islam prohibited the construction of statues and mosaics of faces, bodies, or any figure.  In their place, their medieval cities are adorned with intricate geometric kaleidoscope like mosaics and calligraphy.

Mosaic of the Athlete

The mosaics of the various city nobles are also impressive.  I've been told that watching the sunrise or sunset over the ancient city ruins is amazing.  For sure, don't go when I went at the height of the day when the sun is bearing down on you.  There are only a few trees around for shade so plan accordingly.  There is a nice cafe near the entrance with some trees, and across the street you can find a few gift shops and hanuts selling all sorts of snacks and even some ice cream.  

To get there, go to Meknes.  If you're arriving via grand taxi from Rabat or Fes, you'll be dropped off across the street from the bus station (gare routière or maHtta d kiran).  If you arrive at either of the Meknes train stations, take a petit taxi to the gare routière.  Just below the gare routière (not the CTM one), you will find grand taxis that run to Mouley Idriss about 30k north of Meknes.  Fare was 10DH in 2010 for your typical one butt-cheek sitting space.  The grand taxi will drop you off at the city square where you'll find plenty of station wagon taxis with signs to Volubilis charging around 5DH for the 5K ride.  For the return trip, you could tag along with other tour groups back to Meknes.  You could also trek back to Mouley Idriss and from there you can find plenty of taxis heading to Meknes.  A lot of taxis frequent the road picking up passengers on the way back to Meknes.  We boarded one of those taxis and paid the same amount we would have paid had we left from Moulay Idriss.  How do you know if they're in the business of picking up passengers? You can flag them down or just wait to hear a beep, which can mean two things: I have room for you or you're about to get run over.  Just be alert.

2) Oulmes

This little town is the site of one of the finest finds in all of Morocco: the Source Llala Haya, provider of the best tasting effervescent mineral water in all of Morocco.  There are a number of ways to get to Oulmes.  I went by way of Khemisset.  From the main Khemisset grand taxi station, small passenger vans called (transits or stuffits--no kidding and they do stuff them to the brim sometimes) head out to Oulmes.  The ride there is a little bumpy and curvy as the transit winds through the mountain ledges and plows through the hillside.  Once out of Khemisset, all you can see is wheat farms, cows and sheep grazing, and rolling hills and mountains dotted with shrubbery trees.  It took about an hour or so to get there.  We chilled out with some fellow PCVs for the night and then headed out early morning to the source.  We took a small transit that cost 4DH to get to the site of the bottling facility.

From there it was a 3K downhill trek zig-zagging all the way on a paved trail to the source, and on the trail you get to see up close the shrubbery trees dotting the rocky mountainside.  Upon reaching the source, you cross a river to what looks like a small shaded campsite facility.  There are attendants there who welcome you and give you a 2-minute tour of the facility basically showing you where the water is coming from and the room where a couple of bathtub-size pits have been dug in to accommodate those who wish to experience the magical healing powers of the thermal waters of Oulmes.  The water is streaming in and emptying out so it seemed pretty hygienic.

Johnny performing a do-it-yourself baptism at the source

I didn't take a bath, but I did wash my head a bit, which was wonderfully refreshing after the brief hike.  At the site, they got a few picnic tables overlooking the ravine.  Later on, I was about to drink straight out of this water hose by the picnic tables, but the attendant told me that the water at the campsite was unfiltered and was kind enough to give us a couple of Sidi Ali water bottles free-of-charge.  We then hiked up back to the bottling facility and from there we took the transit ride back to Oulmes.  

The bottling company has a hotel offering thermal baths, and my PCV friends said that the restaurant there is also very good.  For more information, see the link below:    

http://www.oulmes.ma/indexfr.htm

3) Mehdia Beach

As a pisces, my connection and attraction to water are stronger than most.  Luckily for me, the ocean is only about a three-hour train ride away.  It's a luxury and one that I indulge in whenever possible.  Every here and then I get the chance to go to Rabat for some official Peace Corps business and on such occasions I make sure a trip to the beach is on the agenda.

Mehdia Beach is the ideal spot if you want to get away from the hustle and bustle of the capital city and relax in the laid-back atmosphere of this beach resort/fishing town.  The beach is fairly long, the water is calm, although the surf can pick up later in the afternoon and onto the evening.  There are plenty of cafés, restaurants serving a range of seafood and fried fish, and hotels and maison d'hôtes for every kind of traveler, and it is not packed with tourist, but mostly locals.  The only downside is that it can get a little trashy from time to time, not people-wise per se, but just lots of litter, so watch your step as you stroll through the beach.

Perhaps the reason why it is not so tourist-heavy is  due to its somewhat remote location, but by no means should it discourage anyone from going there.  It's actually very easy to get there even with public transportation.  From Rabat, take the train to Kenitra Medina Station, the last stop on the urban rail lines that run every half hour from Casablanca.  Upon exiting the station, make a right towards the stairs, climb up the stairs, make a right at the top walking down until you reach an Oil Libya gas station, from there make a left and walk straight past all the hanuts until you reach the end of the block, and then look to your right and some orange grand taxis should be there waiting for passengers.  Normally, once you reach the Oil Libya gas station you should be able to see the taxis, but right now the square where they congregate is under construction.  If anything, just ask the hanut owners for the mahtta d taksiyat d Mehdia and they'll point you in the right direction.  Taxi fare was 5DH.  Train ride from Rabat was 15DH, and all in all, it should take you no more than an hour from the Rabat Ville Station to the sands of Mehdia.

4) Mouley Bousselham

If you still feel like getting even farther away from the city, a trip to Mouley Bousselham can probably soothe the most erratic nerves.  Because it´s a little bit further out, you see even less tourists and certainly more locals.  To the west is the beach and to the south is a beautiful lagoon and marshland called the Merdja Zerga that is frequented by a whole array of migratory birds, egrets, and even some flamingos.

Last time I was there, the beach had some rough waves and strong undercurrents.  It was closely guarded by lifeguards.  I mainly saw some families playing near the edge of the water and a good number of fishermen laying out multiple fishing poles and then chilling back on a lawn chair. The lagoon empties onto the ocean so I imagine that it is safer to swim.

I stayed at Hotel Miramar on the oceanfront, one of the cheaper options in town, but I don't recommend it.  The rooms are big.  They have a bedroom and a salon with ponges ideal for a small family.  They started at 250DH for the night, but we bargained down to 200DH.  One could  probably go a bit further.  The hot water in the public bathrooms never worked morning or night and at night the terrace is used as a pool hall with chabbi music blaring until 1-2AM despite requests to have the music lowered.

It was funny to hear the locals in the other rooms saying that there were foreigners in the hotel.  Mouley Bousselham is one of many sites Moroccans make a pilgrimage to in order to honor their various saints and tribal leaders of the past.  The Marabout of Mouley Bousselham rests prominently next to the grand plaza on the oceanfront.
    
Food-wise, many restaurants are serving all sorts of grilled or fried seafood for reasonable rates.  One piece of advice is to stay near the oceanfront and away from the lagoon side as you get closer to the night.  Just moving out of the ocean breeze for a bit can land you a good number of mosquito bites.  Overall though, a nice, clean, and quiet beach to calm the nerves.

To get there from Rabat, take a train to Kenitra Medina Station and upon exiting make a left and walk towards the grand taxis going to Mouley Bousselham.  The fare was 40DH and about an hour long.  They take the toll road to Tangiers for much of the way. You are dropped off about 1k from the oceanfront. As you get near it, you'll be presented with various maison d'hotes options from various faux guides that may actually be better than the hotel options.

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I think this about wraps up the Shamal Series.  There are still a number of places in northern Morocco that are worthy of individual entries namely Chefchaouen.  I actually went there, but just crashed the place for only one night.  Inchallah, I'll have the opportunity to visit and hike a bit in the Rif Mountains.

I've yet to talk about my trips to the south of the country.  I hope to highlight a few of them such as: the desert trek, the Todra Gorge, the palmeries, and some of the beaches near and around Agadir.  It's been quite an experience to see so much contrast in the landscape from marshlands to a sea of desert dunes, coastal plains to towering mountains, and an oasis of palmeries in the middle of a desert wilderness.  Moroccans are lucky to live in such a country.  I hope everyone has the chance to see what I have seen and to marvel at the beauty that perhaps a deity or the cosmic forces of the universe has created.

BssHa (To your health) on your travels!

Tribute to the Sympathetic Interlocutor

I want to dedicate this entry to all those sympathetic interlocutors in the world.  You know who you are.  When you've heard someone struggling to vocalize their thoughts, you have been there to fill in the blank.  You're The living thesaurus ready to jump in with the right word at the right time.  You are there to interject a little bit of context to explain what may seem like someone else's odd or offensive behavior.  You are the bridge builder, the peacemaker, and the best friend any Peace Corps volunteer can have.

My Darija-language tutor Ali and I on one of our many sessions

So what is the character profile of a sympathetic interlocutor?  How do you become one?  My guess is that the individual has had to struggle learning a foreign language at some point in time, and perhaps has had to adapt to customs and traditions different than his/her own.  This struggle has forged a sense of compassion for those who are deep in the struggle.  The sympathetic interlocutor feels the pain and the sense of helplessness because he/she too has been ridiculed for conjugating incorrectly, mispronouncing, not inflecting properly, and saying or doing completely inappropriate things without even attempting to do so.  He or she has also felt out of place and sometimes alienated by the strange culture surrounding him/her and bewildered by what seems to be an indecipherable mumble jumble.  He or she has felt the humbling experience of coming from an environment where he/she felt in control of his/her domain to another setting where he/she is overjoyed by the accomplishment of the simplest of tasks.  

The sympathetic interlocutor loves playing nonverbal charades and often cares more about communicating than communicating correctly.  He/she will often mimic you as you try to contort your lips, tongue, and entire face to say whatever you're trying to say.  If he/she happens to be your language tutor, he/she will repeat the same word a hundred times until you finally remember it the 101th time.  


Fortunately, I have come across many sympathetic interlocutors, but I have also met a number of not so sympathetic ones.  The non-sympathetic ones will sometimes laugh, ridicule, and will show no patience whatsoever.  I am encouraged when a sympathetic interlocutor tells the unsympathetic ones to respect the struggle of the language learner and urges them to empathize.  I am also grateful to the sympathetic interlocutors for introducing me to his/her circle of friends and family and sharing a bit of history about why, in his/her point of view, people in his/her corner of the world do what they do.     


I certainly could not have gotten this far in my Peace Corps service without the help of countless sympathetic interlocutors.  One of the many sympathetic interlocutors is my tutor and friend Ali.  What's amazing about Ali is that he taught himself English.  He learned from a few books, lots of American films, and from interaction with past Peace Corps volunteers.  He graduated with a degree in sociology, which he studied in French, another language that he speaks impeccably.  I am grateful to know him, to have been his student, and to have shared many a cultural tid bits that only served to reaffirm how similar we all are.  For all you sympathetic interlocutors, keep up the hard work of translating, clarifying misunderstandings, resolving disputes, and just making the world a more harmonious place to live in.  Thank you and God bless you all.  


P.S. You may ask why the formal "sympathetic interlocutor" title.  Our Peace Corps language proficiency exam rubric had that titled scattered throughout the various levels and sub-levels of language proficiency.  For example, at the beginner level it states that it will take a sympathetic interlocutor to have the patience to figure out what the heck is coming out of your mouth.  At the intermediate, you're making coherent sounds, but it will take a sympathetic interlocutor to put your sounds into comprehensible sentences.  At the advanced level, your language is flowing, but your English-structured Arabic may not make a lot of sense from time to time so it takes a sympathetic interlocutor to translate your Arabic to a more culturally-adaptable format.