Weekend in Ceuta

Morocco is a country of contrasts. Five minutes from the Rabat airport there are donkey carts plodding along next to Hummers. This weekend in Ceuta, goats were munching on grass behind our expansive Spanish villa while camels lounged along the dusty road. Amongst our group of friends, one can hear a mix of French, Spanish, German, classical Arabic, Moroccan Arabic, Russian, Portuguese or English. Yesterday we ate McDonalds for lunch and then enjoyed a traditional Ramadan meal of Kefta, bread and sweet cakes for dinner. This is bound to be an interesting year.

My Beautiful Rabat Apartment

First Impressions

Are we more lucky the harder we work or is there an imaginary coin somewhere there always falls our way? I feel like both my experience abroad have started off so much better then I ever imagined. On the United flight from Chicago to Paris, I chatted about travel, professions, and passions with an inventor from San Francisco called Sasha, until he moved seats to sit next to his father. Originally I was annoyed that I was sitting in the very absolute last row of the plane, but as it turned out, the seat next to me was reserved as an emergency seat for a flight attendant. Therefore I was the only person on the plane able to stretch out over two seats during the nine hour flight. Aside from the turbulence the upset my tea cup several times and bad movies with poor sound quality, we arrived in Paris to beautiful sunny skies. As we were leaving the plane to go through customs, Sasha told me again to follow my passions and handed me his email address. I guess it’s always cool to know an inventor in San Fran. :)

I transferred to my Air Maroc flight and fell asleep even before we left the runway. I woke up upon our descent to Rabat, and while I would have much rather slept, I peered out the window to see a carpet patchwork of green and red stripes woven across the ground. The closer we got, I started to pick out mud huts and humble shacks next to the fields; the thought crossed my mind, “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” A female customs officer checked me through to the chintzy hotel lobby-like Rabat airport, so small it consisted of one snack bar, a currency exchange desk and a sign pointing towards taxis.

I found a decent looking taxi to take me into the city, and within five minutes from the airport, saw a compellation of donkey carts, skinny scooters driven by boys, men and veiled women alike and even a grandiose Hummer navigating the traffic jam of streets. I arrived at the apartment tired and feeling dirty but excited to have such a beautiful apartment waiting for me.

Living Life

I was afraid of the “real world” after graduation. Being cut-off from the parents, working non-stop, running the rat race simply to climb the corporate ladder. Was this all I was cut out for after four fabulous years at NU? Where was the adventure? Where was the un-known and the trail less traveled?

In the nerve-wracking, nail biting, indecisive throws of the senior year job search, an older theta girl told me how much fun she was having teaching English in France. So, I thought, why not live in France for my first year out? I can master the language, earn some money and have the chance to travel. Off I packed for a year in the south of France, living with a French boy, teaching 2^nd-5^th graders elementary English, meeting friends from all corners of the world and traveling as much as my meager salary would allow.

I would often hear about how hard and long my friends were working back in Chicago, usually while I was planning for an evening at the beach or a weekend off traveling. It is only now, after I have returned from my life in France, that I have realized, this is the real world. It is real for me; this is my life and I am living it the only way I know how- bursting with new experiences, engulfed in new places and people, basking in joy, learning the hard way from mistakes, tasting and savoring the sweetness that is gone all too quickly.

Who Knew?

The short story of how French changed my life.

French classes at NU started out simply as a way to fill my WCAS language requirement. Who knew that four years later I would be living in Cannes, soaking up the sun and celebrity stars, watching Friends and 24 in French, eating Nutella and teaching cute French school children.

Learning French, while initially not my favorite thing to do, has enabled me to have extraordinary experiences. I spent two quarters in Paris with a French family while taking classes at the Sorbonne. Winter in Paris is far better than in Chicago (let's face it, winter quarter is rough) and Spring in the City of Lights has no comparison.

Then, in the nerve-wracking, nail-biting, indecisive throws of the senior year job search, a friend told me how much fun she was having teaching English in France. I thought, why not live in France? Luckily I got placed in Cannes, home of turquoise waters, purse-size poodles and cinema-star quality. Teaching was teaching, but living in the south of France was incredible.

By now my French skills are vastly improved and I am headed off to Morocco to take master's classes in French. Without struggling through my language requirements at NU, I would not be a happy Nutella addict headed off to Casablanca. Perhaps Arabic will be my next language. Who knows…

Hiking in Cinque Terre, Italy- perhaps one of the most beautiful places on earth (with a little side trip to Pisa).

Ziggles Ultimate Frisbee tournament in Milan. We didn't win the tournament but should have been called Team Awesome for playing savage the whole weekend.

From baths in Budapest to biking in Munich, solo travels around Europe this summer pretty much rocked my world.