Ask Me Your Questions

I don't have copious amounts of time to write about every aspect of my life here, as nice as that might be. So instead of trying to figure out what to blog and what not to blog (to keep it interesting for you all), ask me questions! (Yes, you are doing most of the work for me. We've already established that I'm lazy.) Comment below (or Inbox/Other-box me) and I will try to answer them to the best of my ability.

(*Note: I will not be answering any questions as to the secrets of the universe. Just so you know.) 

Dear Sherlock,

Not all cab drivers are psychopath-murderers. Just thought you should know.

You know, I'm not really one for hashtags. Sometimes they're funny, but most of the time, I find them annoying.

But Morocco is giving me ample opportunities for them.

#ThatMomentWhen...

...You catch three whole words in an entire conversation and not only feel satisfied but proud.

...You have no clue what your mom is saying, but you nod and smile anyways.

...By nodding and smiling the words somehow become clearer and you can sort of pick up one word, which sort of tells you what she's saying.

...Your littlest brother is watching a kids' show and they start singing about Tah and you flip out because that's a letter you learned in class that day.

...You can then put together a sentence that more or less translates to "The letter Tah, we study today in school."

...The thing that made you gag the first time you sipped it (less than a week ago) is now an integral part of your diet, and it wouldn't be breakfast or dinner #1 without it.

...You hear a verb you know and are thus able to reply, actually conjugating it correctly as well.

...You carry on a multi-sentence mini-conversation with your cab driver.

...You realize you've carried on aforementioned multi-sentence mini-conversation.

...You understand an entire sentence that your mom says without thinking about it too much, even though it includes two languages.

...You're super tired because you only got 5.5 hours of sleep, but then you get outside and you're in the Old Medina, and you realize all over again you're in Morocco. 

Pictures, Because I'm Too Lazy To Write

First off, things everywhere are tiled. And gorgeous. This picture does not do justice to the random mosaic we saw on our tour. 

The walls of the old medina. (I think...) 

A lovely garden inside the walls.

And a different angle.

It's not just Greece that has the blue and white! 

I'm sorry, this is just cool. 

Rabat, after climbing through the old medina. Any doubts that it is the most gorgeous place ever, as I claimed?

Oh, I'll throw in a picture of myself. Just for kicks and giggles. And because it wasn't a total failure of a hair day. ;) 

French Fry Tagine

Didn't think it was possible? Neither did I.

Guess who was proved wrong.

Me.

Also on the table where shbekia (the dessert I talked about earlier) and dates, and another (different) soup, not pictured. 

Bonus: My impressionistic picture of a Moroccan moon. Just for putting up with all of my food pictures. 

You Will Call Me Blasphemous …

… but the Madeleines here are better than the ones in Paris. There, I said it. (It’s been three years since I had them, of course, but I stand by my assessment.)

Seriously, every bit of food that I’ve had here is delicious. Even food that I normally shy away from (my mother would look at me cross-eyed if I told her the contents of some of the things I’ve actually eaten) has been amazing.

*Conspiracy Theory Time*

They’re trying to make us all fat. I don’t know why, but I think they are. How? “Shweeya b-shweeya.” I have proof.

Today, we got up, and ate a superb breakfast, which included a naan-like bread and a more traditional (in a Western sense) bread, accompanied by fresh orange juice, a wedge of spreadable cheese, jam (no idea what flavor, other than yummy), and honey.

Then, we had a short segment of orientation, and exited for a break (before lunch, mind you) whereupon we were presented with this:

Don’t forget about lunch. Salad, tagine, and of course, khubz.

Not to mention dinner. Which is about an hour and a half away. 

Looking back, I’m not so sure it’s “shweeya b-shweeya;” they’re moving at a much faster pace.

You know, it’s a good thing that I brought loose clothing. Because as much as I don’t want to gain weight (due equally to American cultural stereotypes and general health), I am definitely not going to miss out on any Moroccan food opportunities.

I rest my conspiracy theory. 

Also, Morocco continues to be beautiful. 

Random plant.

 Random wall. 

 In a field by the buildings.

Snails! 

A very common flower. 

I like flower shots. 

My morning walk in the "compound" we're staying at in Sale.

 Some of the buildings.

From Midwest To Middle East (But Not Everything In Between Because That's Just The Atlantic)

I think that I can safely say that I am currently living in the most beautiful place on Earth.

True, when getting off the plane, things seemed a little dicey at first, due to lack of sleep and water, plus the lines at customs, but leaving the airport and getting a view like this boosts your mood exponentially.

 Roadside views like these are pretty nice too.

And oh my goodness, Moroccan food? To die for! Dates, figs, a delicious local cookie-type commonly seen during Ramadan, soup, tagine, khubz, and yogurt later and I'm stuffed! :) 

A Room With A View

We're still in NYC, but gosh, it's pretty. 

We have a gorgeous view from the commons. Take a look. 

 Sitting on the window bench in the commons, there is a view of a beautiful side of NYC that I never knew existed.

 I love sunsets.

Crow!

This Isn't The Flip Side, Either

Wow, I'm bad at this. 

So we're all here in NYC, and the first day was crazy and awesome. 

Basically, we checked in, and then walked around the city (or at least, the area around Columbia that we were allowed to explore). 

We came back for icebreakers, which included a human knot that was very...knotty. 

Here is a sample of our day. 

The sun sets. 

One of the places we visited.

And basically I'm too tired to put anymore up. 

This Isn’t The Flip Side

Remember how I said I’d see you on the flip side? Well this isn’t it.

What this happens to be is June 16^th. If you currently live stateside (or apparently, in 73 other countries around the world—who knew?), you might know that the 16^th, as the third Sunday in June, is Father’s Day.

Dad, if you haven’t figured out by now that this is about you: Get with the program. ;)

Thank you for all of the times when I was little and sad or hurting and you swept in and made it all better. Thanks for all of the times that you still do that. Thank you for all those hemophilia mornings. Thank you for still letting me putter around on the farm with you every now and again. Thank you for speaking French with me in the morning, even when I’m groggy and don’t make any sense, even when I’m not groggy and still don’t make any sense. Thank you for being there every step of the way. Thanks for being the best dad a girl could ask for, even if we do butt heads now and again. :) Thanks for every bit of awesomeness that I’ve missed, because it’s been crazy and I’m tired.

I know that you’re probably a little worried about letting me go off “on my own” to Morocco, and I get that. I know that I’m your little girl. But this is something I need to do, and I promise that I will still be your little girl when I get back, even if it’s in a slightly different way.

So. I’m sorry I can’t be here for the entire day to celebrate, but:

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!

xoxo

G

Everyone else: P.S.—Now I’ll see you on the flip side. 

’Cause I’m Leavin’ On A Jet Plane

I’d say I don’t know when I’ll be back again, except that I do. (August 5^th for inquiring minds.)  

You know, the more I blog, the harder it becomes to find interesting topics. You (meaning: me) don’t realize how irrelevant and disgustingly boring your life is until you try to blog about it, and make it sound interesting. Granted, I have a little help (okay, a lot) from NSLI-Y and the whole Rabat-thing. But there’s only so many times that I can moan about packing or muse about what Morocco will be like. And it just makes me realize how entirely small and inconsequential my life—and really, our existence in general—is.

Getting all existentialist freaks me out, because the thing about existentialism and me is that it tends to have a snowball effect; going and going and going.

Fortunately, the adventure is beginning, and suddenly, as a result, life seems more interconnected and interesting. By this time tomorrow, I will be on a plane to New York (or in New York, as the case may be), soon after which, I will be on a plane to Rabat (well, Casablanca, but now we’re splitting hairs).

The other half of this post: me griping/making excuses.

If you weren’t aware, blogging takes a lot of time. For every minute you spend reading, I probably spend 20-25 minutes writing, and another 5-10 minutes editing/debating whether I should include what I’ve just written. (See: the downs of being a perfectionist.)

Some of the posts have been rather long, so as many of you may have guessed, large chunks of time have gone to blogging when I should, say, have been doing homework. (The plights of a high-schooler. *Sigh* . . . You know, I should probably quit being so melodramatic.)

And lately I’ve been so swamped that there hasn’t been time. Yeah, I’m kind of figuring that the same chaos from the last week of school will basically be my life over the summer.

The point is (yes, there actually is one), my suspicions are confirmed that any resolve I have to blog regularly will go out the window once I get to Morocco. I’d consider stockpiling posts like I have been, except that being in Morocco negates that idea. Whoops.

So now, of course, with the simultaneous idea of adventure and no time to chronicle it all, I bid you all adieu for a few days. Or longer. Or maybe just until I get to Morocco.

In any event, see you on the flip side. 

When I Talk to Myself … And Myself Replies

Isn’t that one of the definitions of insanity? *nervous laugh* Because I do it all the time. In this particular instance, I am staging a Q & A with myself. Why? Because I feel like it, that’s why. Me was crabby. So other me decided to poke fun at me.

Me: What is your name?

ME: Are you serious right now?

Me: No, the only Sirius I know of is Sirius Black. And he's dead. I'm asking your name. If I was Sirius, I wouldn't need to ask since you're me. 

ME: *Sighs* First: Really, you're going to be like this? Second: I thought we went over this? Genevieve. And you can pronounce it in English or French or Swiss-French, but I will go bonkers if you say Gweniveve or Guinevere.

Me: No made up names or English Queens here.

ME: And no Lancelots either. You know, I’d be quite frightened if someone appeared in this day and age with the name Lancelot. 

Me: I don’t blame you.

ME: You better not, after some of the shenanigans you’ve pulled.

Me: *Rolls eyes* So what’s your favorite city?

ME: Whatever foreign city I was last in.

Me: Real helpful.

ME: Fribourg. Although, I’m pretty sure Rabat is gonna take its place.

Me: As am I.

ME: At least we agree.

Me: So, are you—

ME: Stop there. Before you even ask, cat person. Definitely cat person.

Me: Seriously, how did you know that?

ME: Take a second and think.

Me: Riiiiiight.

ME: Getting a little tired, are we?

Me: Maybe a little.

ME: Don’t lie.

Me: Okay, a lot.

ME: Better.

Me: Oh, whatever. So what are you thinking about?

ME: That question.

Me: No, seriously.

ME: Cheese.

Me: Cheese? Of all the things we’re thinking about and you chose to tell them about 

Cheese?

ME: Yes.

Me: You are so annoying.

ME: I know.

Me: Hey, guess what? 

ME: What.

Me: ? 

ME: You told me to guess what. So I guessed "what." 

Me: Not what I meant. Since you're being unhelpful: 2 days until we leave! 

ME: EEEEEEEEE! Reallyreallyreallyreallyreally? 

Me: Yes. 

ME: Whhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! 

Me: Pretty much. And I think that about wraps it up.

ME: Oh, fine.

Me: I’m so glad that we’re finally agreeing.

I’m sure you can all see that I have waaaaaay too much time on my hands. 

But see, the thing is, I actually don't. I'm pressed for time. I have no time. It's more nervous energy and stress relief than anything else. 

Can I Give You A Word Of Wisdom?

Since you’re here, actually reading, and not some random person on the internet (Hello, person aimlessly clicking through blogs and now feeling awkward!), I’m going to assume that I can. It is my blog, after all.

I think saying goodbye can be just as hard when you’re the one that is left behind as it is when you're the one that is leaving. (I learned this recently.) At least when you’re leaving, you’re going somewhere, which makes it the teensiest bit better. But then again, I have very limited experience, and a bias towards the idea of going places. 

I feel like I was originally going to post more about this, but I guess I’m just in an emotionally numb place right now, and I can’t find more/better words. To those of you who I’ve said goodbye to: I’ll miss you a lot. However, I’m trying to look at this as Not-A-Goodbye, but a See-You-Later.

Advice to be gained: Be the one travelling to cool places. :) Which is convenient, because you know (unless you’re that aforementioned random person, who is probably feeling awkward all over again) that I will be doing just that. In three days. Holy cow. Three days!

Also (more words of wisdom): Be more organized about packing than I’ve been. So far, I’ve been pretty lax about the whole thing, except for when I’ve frantically developed shopping lists that my mother has been kind enough to help me with. Actually, she’s pretty much been a Godsend with this whole thing.

But enough of my griping. Because guess what!

I HAVE MY HOST FAMILY.

WHICH MAKES ME VERY EXCITED. ALL OVER AGAIN.

BECAUSE I AM LEAVING SOON.

As you can probably tell from the caps-lock that seems to have taken over my computer.

Anyways, I’m trying not to imagine what it will be like, or create too many expectations, since everything will be totally different, and it’s best to try to minimize culture shock.

But I will say that from the little I know about them, I really like them. Which is crazy, since it is so little information. Then again, these are the people that I will be living with for the next 7 weeks. Isn't it kind of natural to want to like them, and thus like them? 

I don't know, but I have been super excited about them for the past few days. 

So the feelings of sadness are balanced by ones of hope. It's all part of the experience, I suppose. 

In Which I’m Metacognizant? See Also: That Means You, TOK.

I’m baaaaack.

It’s the end of the school year. I was busy. Moving on.

It’s probably time that I explain the (obscure?) acronym that has appeared in several a post.

TOK.

Are you ready? I’m not sure I am.

TOK, Theory of Knowledge. For those of you who aren’t in the SuperSecretBoyband club of IB, (International Baccalaureate. Acronyms, acronyms, acronyms!) Theory of Knowledge is a required course that all Diploma students must take. We mused about how we know what we know, sense perception, language, the occasional travel experience, emotions, and the like.

Depending on the day, it was either the most interesting, fun-time-discussing, get-to-argue-about-philosophical-concepts-ing, mind-blowing class ever … or it was the devil incarnate. (Sorry, Mr. "K." I really liked the class. I really did. Most days.)

Anyways, I’ve been thinking about thinking, and it’s confuzzling (<--technical term) me. That's the problem with taking TOK. You start thinking. And then you kind of can't stop, which is good, because then there are always questions to be asked and concepts to be discovered. Except that sometimes you (read: I) just don't know, it becomes a bit much. For example (A real, specific example, Mr. "K."! I'm finally getting the hang of this! After...the term...finishes. Oops.), I have also been thinking about how my thinking will be changed by going to Morocco, which is interesting and a tad bit scary. And I don't have the answers.

How will Morocco change the way I see the world? What new things will I notice? What will I brush over that I used to make a big deal about? What about myself will I discover, hate, love, appreciate, change? Will how I know be altered irrevocably? (Probably.) What happens once I’ve changed, and I get back and realize that everything stayed the same? What then?

You know, it’s the end of school. Can I please try to avoid the implications of these for now?