empollar

empollar = to cram (for an exam)

I know I haven't updated this blog in a while. I've been busy!

Anyway, I had an in-class essay today in my History of Iberoamerica class, and I naturally didn't start studying until this morning. So I had to cram. My señora began to make fun of me, saying that I am the first student she's ever seen who's studied before June.

It was at that moment that I realized I may be taking my work too seriously. I honestly thought that I was being a rebel, the badass who does not start studying until the morning of a test. But to not study at all? That would be crazy, right?

Apparently not. Well I got to the "comentario," as my professor called it and received the exam with one question on it. Only problem: there was no question on it. It just had the citation of a 40-page reading on our syllabus. I asked my professor (an extreme socialist who believes the rich should be taxed until they make the same amount as the poor) what the question was, and he just pointed at the article title. I guessed we were supposed to write everything we knew about that article, but, as I'm sure you readers have guessed, that was the ONE article I hadn't read. I had literally no idea what it was about, and began to write random facts about Latin America. Looks like I should have studied.

The class itself is pretty interesting, if not awkward at times. The United States' has had a very...tumultuous...paternal presence in Latin America, and it makes me a little uncomfortable sometimes to hear about how America "robbed the Panama canal from the columbians," or "forced Nicaragua into an external debt." It's one thing to hear about these events from an American professor, a comrade in criticizing the evil past of our country. But hearing it from a foreign professor turns it into an America-bashing session, leaving me to hide my head as I take notes as he stares at the American students in the classroom. Sometimes I want to stand up and shout that I APOLOGIZE ON BEHALF OF MY COUNTRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME. Learning about the Spanish-American War from the Spanish perspective gave me the same feeling.

I feel like it's good for me, though. It's super humbling to be placed out of your element like that, and it really forces you to see the consequences of war and imperialism. The key is not to continuously bash our country into the present (even though we may be doing similar things in the Middle East...), but to look at our misdeeds, learn from them, and try not to repeat them.

Bajarse al moro

bajarse al moro = visit Morocco. Literally, it means "go down to the moors."

("Bajarse al moro" is also the name of a 1988 play about these Spanish teenagers who go to Morocco in the 80s. I just bought it and am really excited to read it!)

I went to Morocco via ferry this past weekend. I visited Tangier, Tetuan and Chefchauen, and in case you know nothing about Moroccan geography, Tangier is the only "city" of these three, and Tetuan and Chauen are villages in the Rif Mountains.

Now, this was a trip of many firsts: first time to Africa, first time in a third-world country, first time in an Islamic country... and I'd have to say that despite less than ideal bathroom conditions (i.e. a hole in the ground), a slight drinking-tap-water scare (don't worry, no diarrhea for me!), and a lack of free time, I was rather pleased with the country itself.

Firstly, Moroccan food is delicious. The dishes I had (especially cous cous) were incredibly flavorful and filling. Also, the attitude about eating was great: They just put a giant plate on the table and everyone digs in.

The country has some beautiful sights. Particularly surprising to me was the green countryside. There were trees and grass covering rolling hills, which is not something I'd normally picture in Africa. My favorite city was Chefchauen, with its faded blue and white buildings left over from the Jews. There was running water all over the city, too. And when I say running water, I don't mean pipes and plumbing; I mean literally waterfalls leading to water running down the street and washing the citizens' feet.


Above is a picture of a part of Chefchauen with watefalls and people avoiding walking in the water. I don't have too many other photos of the city and people because they don't like having their picture taken, which makes sense. I wouldn't want to have tourists gawking at me and taking pictures like I'm an animal in a zoo.

I'm glad I went on this trip. It was loaded with new experiences; it was definitely very weird to look up at a sign and not even recognize the alphabet, let alone what it is saying. Also, there were people trying to sell you things around every corner, from hashish to mandolins to freshly plucked chickens (still had their heads on, thank God). I bought a wool rug for 10 euro, after an embarrassing attempt to haggle in which he pulled out his receipts to show me it costs him 8 euro to make it.

Oh, and I made a new friend: