Category: Morocco

My Program is Not Like Other Girls

Published on by Mattie EmbreyLeave a comment

When I tell people that I’m studying abroad, one of the first questions I get is about which university I attend. My answer usually requires a long and awkward explanation, so I hope writing it down will not only share helpful information with prospective students but also help me practice giving a clearer explanation. While it may seem unconventional, the Meknes, Morocco program through International Studies Abroad (ISA) has been an incredible experience. I knew it would be different from my friends’ programs, but I didn’t quite know how. So, I’d like to provide the description I wish I had before I came.

The biggest difference is that we don’t study at a university, but rather a private study center that offers transferable college credits. The curriculum focuses on Moroccan culture and Islamic studies, with the most intensive component being the Arabic course. This course crams a year’s worth of material into one semester. There’s also an optional crash course in Darija, the Moroccan Arabic dialect, which I found extremely helpful for navigating day-to-day life. Darija is known for being the dialect with the least in common with Modern Standard Arabic, so learning it is a huge advantage here. Since it’s only us Americans in class with Moroccan professors, we get a lot of individualized attention, and the atmosphere is more relaxed. Especially with our tiny class sizes, which brings me to my next point.

There are just eleven of us in the entire program. Yes—only myself and ten other people! Numbers vary from year to year, but the staff has confirmed that the size usually stays around that range. When I found this out, I felt both excited and nervous. Excited because I’d automatically have a small group of friends, but nervous for the same reason—what if I didn’t click with them? Thankfully, after just the first week, we’d already built a close-knit community. Moving in and starting classes together only strengthened that bond. Now, we live, hang out, travel, and study as a unit. It might have felt like a “forced group of friends” at first, but now I’m grateful to say that I’ve met some of my favorite people ever. My time in Morocco wouldn’t be the same without them, and every day I’m thankful for this group I “got stuck with.”

Traveling has been another incredible part of the experience. I’ve only spent one weekend in Meknes since arriving nearly two months ago. Most of my time has been spent exploring other cities in Morocco, helped in large part by the number of excursions included in the ISA program. Compared to other programs I looked at on DU Passport, ISA Meknes includes excursions to Casablanca, Marrakech, Ouzoud Waterfalls, Beni Mellal, Ifrane, Azrou, Volubilis, Fes, Rabat, and Tanger. Outside of the program, I’ve also traveled independently with my friends to places like Chefchaouen, Lisbon, Madrid, and camping in the Atlas Mountains. And there are more trips to come!

Now, for my absolute favorite part: the housing situation. The program offers two options: a homestay or living in an apartment. I live in an apartment with the other three girls in the program, and it has been a blast. Initially, apartment living seemed less appealing because we’d have to cook for ourselves while the students in the homestay enjoyed homemade Moroccan meals every day. But then we met Mona, our housekeeper. Mona cooks us delicious Moroccan lunches and dinners Monday through Saturday and keeps our apartment clean and tidy. She’s incredibly sweet, pays close attention to what we like and don’t like to eat. She knows that I like coffee while my roommates don’t, so she makes me a cup everyday with lunch. I asked her for coffee only once, which adds greatly to the sentiment. No matter what, she goes above and beyond what’s asked of her.

For example, when my roommates and I were leaving for a trip to Portugal, Mona had the day off because we’d be gone by lunchtime. But that morning, I woke up to hear her in the kitchen. My stomach dropped—I thought I’d have to tell her, in my broken Darija, that we wouldn’t be eating and she’d have to throw the food away. But when I walked in, I found her making wraps for us to take on the train. I genuinely almost cried at the thoughtfulness of that gesture. Our home isn’t home without her.

The apartments themselves are also incredible. There are two double bedrooms, three bathrooms, two showers, a kitchen, and one massive dining/living room. It’s this huge living room that allows us to spend so much time together, lounging on the couches while tackling homework or just hanging out. Plus, the guys’ apartment is right above ours, making it easy to host Arabic study parties. We often gather in one apartment or the other for fun activities like karaoke, movie nights, playing Just Dance, or carving pumpkins on Halloween.

Although unconventional, I’m very pleased with my decision to come here. Studying in Meknes has turned out to be an experience beyond my expectations. From the small, close-knit group of students to the incredible friendships we’ve forged, I’ve found a sense of community that has made this journey truly special. The travel opportunities have been amazing, allowing us to explore the rich culture and beauty of Morocco together. Living in our apartment has been a blast, especially with Mona’s delicious meals and her thoughtfulness that makes us feel at home. Every day brings new adventures, and I wouldn’t trade my time here for anything.

Thank You, Fear.

Published on by Mattie EmbreyLeave a comment

I wrote my second blog post about my trip from home to Morocco, and how my fear of flying affected it. It’s a little silly to read through now, even though it was only a month ago. I had so much fear and anxiety inside me that I wrote nearly a thousand words exclusively about my flights and feelings relating to them. It was even worse in the month leading up to departure. Every time somebody asked if I was excited, I only ever responded with grief about being on an airplane. I must’ve been a huge bummer, and my list of pre-departure regrets only grows from there.

I’ve already posted about my worry about societal roles and air travel, but that pattern is getting kind of old. If I write this in-depth about every single fear or anxiety I encounter, I’ll have written a very long and emotionally draining novel:

Chapter 1: I’m Scared to Travel Alone

Chapter 2: I Hate Flying

Chapter 3: The Horror of a Long-Distance Relationship

Chapter 4: I Don’t Know Any Languages

Chapter 5: I’m Scared of Being a Woman

Chapter 6: I’m Doomed by My Sense of Direction

Chapter 7: I Don’t Know How Taxis Work

Chapter 8: Unaware of Unspoken Social Rules

Chapter 9: I Really Don’t Like Heights

Chapter 10: Seriously, How Do Taxis Work Here?!

I’m happy to say that, despite all my time wasted on worry, I haven’t let fear hold me back. Every single time, I rose up to the challenge and did what I needed to do. Over the weeks, I kept surprising myself, and my curiosity grew. Why was I so terrified, but also being so uncharacteristically courageous?

There were times where I was just forced to be brave, like when I needed to take a taxi by myself for the first time. I still didn’t understand how the system worked. I could either: 1.) Flag down a petit taxi and attempt explaining where I needed to go to someone who doesn’t speak English; or 2.) Awkwardly wander around the grand taxis with set destinations, hoping someone would direct me to one set for Bassatine (I genuinely don’t know how Moroccans just know which ones go where. There’s no sign or indication anywhere on the street or vehicle itself).

Neither option sounded great, but it was a 15-minute drive to somewhere I needed to be in 15 minutes. I wish I could say that I navigated everything perfectly, but honestly, it was a bit of a hot mess. I waved down a petit taxi and told the driver the name of the neighborhood I was going to but had zero idea how to describe the specific spot. So, I sat next to the woman in the back seat, and frantically searched for a voice memo that I’d been sent as a reference. Once it was located, I handed my phone up to the driver, but he didn’t speak French, which was apparently what the memo was in. He then handed my phone to the lady next to me, who replayed it a few times before finally telling the driver where I was going.

Then we took off, and I was really crossing my fingers that I was going to the right place. I was relieved when we began passing familiar streets, and handed the driver my payment. But, as I was exiting the taxi, I stepped right into a pothole and fell down as the door closed. Embarrassing. At the very least, I got there and even had my own dramatic exit. Although I’m not even close to perfect yet, I’ve become more comfortable with taxis and proud of myself for it.

I’ve taken particular interest in the times where the pressure comes from myself rather than external reasons. For example, my program went on an excursion a few weeks ago to Ifrane National Park, which included an afternoon at Azrou Adventure Park. I’d never done a ropes course or anything similar before, mostly due to my fear of heights. My peers opted for the most difficult course that made my stomach twist just by looking at it. But the idea of trying an easier one, or sitting out entirely, made me feel even worse. I had no idea why– it didn’t feel like the social pressure or fear of being left out. Nonetheless, it was enough motivation for me to put on a harness and go somewhere labeled: “NOT FOR BEGINNERS!”

Don’t get me wrong, I was shaking, sweating, and nauseous whilst watching my friends and waiting my turn. Then, once I joined our accompanying staff member on the first platform, the realization that I couldn’t turn back hit me like a slap in the face. Upon seeing my expression, he asked if I was alright, and I revealed my fright.

“Why are you doing this, then!?”

I shrugged and giggled, both because of the humorous circumstances and because I didn’t know how else to respond. Why did I do this? No matter how– I really had a good time.

I’ll give you another instance. Since my program is short in comparison to others, we have two long weekends in the place of a week-long break. My three roommates and I went to Lisbon, Portugal for this past one (which was SO much fun!!!), but I had zero ideas for the other. As time went on, everyone developed and solidified their own plans, and I was left as one of the only people without a travel group. My mind was constantly occupied by attempts to solve my pickle.

I should ask them if I can join their trip. No, that’s weird. Also, what if they don’t want me there? They likely wouldn’t mind– but still that’s weird. Plane tickets are probably expensive by now, so maybe I’ll just stay home? No. I can’t stay home while everyone else is gone. But I also can’t just latch onto somebody else’s plan. And I can’t go anywhere by myself, no way. So, I guess I could just stay at home and relax? Or wait– maybe I could go somewhere by myself? No. Yes? Well, now I want to. But that’s scary. But since I thought of it, now I have to, don’t I?

Yes, absolutely.

Traveling for four days by myself is still a really scary thought, since I’d never done anything like it before. I actually hadn’t traveled much before coming to Morocco at all. Even when I did, I was just a kid cluelessly shadowing my mom like a lost puppy. But when I imagine myself sitting in my apartment all that time thinking, “I could be somewhere else right now,” that truly sends shivers down my spine. I became plagued by nightmarish visions of myself 10 or 20 years from now, lying awake thinking about that stupid, stupid decision. The potential turmoil of mourning such opportunities and experiences is beyond spooky. This prompted a very enlightening realization: my biggest fear is, in fact, regret.

So, I guess I’ve subconsciously been trying to prevent remorse (as best as anyone can). And, as a result, I now have one plane ticket, one bed at a hostel, and a one-person itinerary for the small beach town of Essaouira, Morocco. After realizing that I could do anything as long as I was more scared about not doing it, committing to everything was surprisingly easy. Anxiety is still rattling around in my brain, and I do still obsess over how I’m getting from the train station to the airport, if eating alone will look weird, and many other obsolete details. But they’re a problem for later.

Of course, fear is a natural reaction that keeps us safe. I’m not going to start ignoring my instincts completely– that would be a very bad idea. You won’t catch me jumping into a tiger enclosure or walking the sketchy part of town at night just for fun. However, these hesitations are backed by survival needs. My terror surrounding taxis, solo travel, and heights, however, are not.

So, scare yourself into fighting your demons. Your future self is watching you from their memory right now– what do you want them to think of you?

Become petrified by regret and horrified of your own judgment. If fear is the one and only thing holding you back from something, you can’t not do it. Trust me, it makes living life a lot more fun.