Of All the Gin Joints, In All the Towns, In All the World, She Walks Into Mine.

I came to Rabat and there was a major protest and I left Rabat in the midst of another major protest. I dragged my bags behind me through the Medina and out into la nouvelle ville where I saw a large protest extending all the way up Mohammed V to the train station. Consequently, I boarded the tram and rode it to the gare where I discovered the next train to Casa port would leave in 15 minutes. After buying my ticket I descended to the platform and waited. I ended up chatting in French with a medical student and an older woman who had visited the states. She detested the New York subway system and called it a jail. What a pity. I love the subway. It's not a jail; it's an underground refuge, a fun and mysterious adventure park beneath the city. She was interesting to speak to, though, and the medical student helped me with my bags.

From Sunday through Thursday I stayed in the Kenzi Basma Hotel in Casablanca's old center. What a contradiction this city is! It is home to Morocco's elite, European like citizens and there are new, modern construction projects everywhere. Yet these new projects are juxtaposed with bidonvilles (shanty towns) and crumbling architecture. The area around the Kenzi Basma looks like a French colonial ghost town. Large Parisian style white buildings loom overhead the broad palm tree lined boulevards, but the buildings look uninhabited and are covered with dirt. I never truly understood why New York's local law 11 was so important until I walked past these buildings literally falling apart before my eyes.

On Wednesday I met with Mary and Aida, a Moroccan graduate of Hunter College and Columbia's Journalism School. Aida lives in Casablanca and files for the New York Times, Bloomberg, and others; she is my ISJ advisor. We met in the Starbucks (one of two in Casablanca and possibly the whole country) on Boulevard Anfa. Reverse culture shock! I was so surprised to see Starbuck's zen atmosphere here. I don't like to frequent foreign establishments while abroad, but Starbucks, mainly due to its wifi, has become my office. It is also a very interesting place from which to learn about Casablancais. Starbucks' customers sometimes arrive in convertibles and high heeled boots. The majority speak French before Arabic and there are several canoodling couples who don't seem too afraid of cultural taboos. Interestingly, whereas in many countries English has become the new universal language, French is still the lingua franca in Morocco. People always speak French before English.

On Thursday I moved to my new apartment! It's in very safe Bourgogne Ouest, just outside of the new center. Starbucks, for example, is a ten minute walk. So is the Ocean and the famous Hassan II Mosque! Princess came to visit her partner, Ranya, and interview a woman's organization on Thursday. She stayed with me Friday night and then I returned to Rabat with her on Saturday night. It was strange to be back, but I still feel at home in Rabat. I stayed with Princess, Eboni, Marie, and Antinnea through Monday when I had a meeting with Mary, Sara, and Taieb. Then, elated about my independence and my project's progress, I took the train home. This week I'll commute to Rabat frequently as I have interviews on Wednesday, Thursday, and potentially Friday and Sunday. I originally moved to Casa because it is the country's economic story and my store is a business related one. It appears, though, that most of my interviews will be in Rabat. I'm thrilled to be living in Casablanca, though. It's an experiment in living independently and, having gotten to know life in Rabat on a deep level, I'm ready to experience life in Casa. So far I love the tall, perfect palm trees on the coastal boulevards and I love the city's modern edge.