My flight landed in Fes at 3:05 pm (local time zone) on August 21st. So technically I have been in the country for about 2 and a half days. I live and breathe by the saying "go with the flow." If a last minute plan is made, or I am told the plan at the last minute, I just shrug my shoulders and go with it. Keeping that phrase in practice when traveling abroad for the first time was extremely difficult. I attempted to resist the current, but I managed to go with the flow for most of my travels.
Phoenix to New York
The journey started in a hotel near the Phoenix airport with my family. My flight was scheduled for 6:05 am, so we shared a final dinner early in the evening and promptly went to sleep. However, no one really slept much that night due to the massive anticipation for the following day. August 20th, 3:15 am came too soon with a wake-up call from the front desk. Groggily, everyone got ready to leave and on the way out I was able to get coffee and a pre-made breakfast that the hotel had set aside for my early departure. 4:15 am, this is the time the airport opens. Yet, we had been driving in circles for about 25 minutes because the highway to the airport was closed. Finally, we found an alternate route--multiple side streets-- and the next thing I knew was my mom rapidly trying to explain what procedures I needed to follow and some other things. Honestly, the rest is a blur until I reached JFK (the New York airport).
New York to Paris
Upon landing, I switched my phone on and was bombarded by multiple messages: "your flight to Paris canceled", "your flight to Paris changed", and "your flight to Paris delayed". This was not something I wanted to read before attempting to navigate a big city airport. I asked officials at the gate what I needed to do and if my boarding pass was still valid. The only thing they told me is that I needed to switch terminals. At JFK, switching from one terminal to another alludes leaving the airport and walking up the sidewalk to another building and going through security again. The line for TSA is long, and I mean ridiculously so, and I had to go through the line twice because only after I entered, was I told that I needed to go back outside to get a new boarding pass. The second time going through security was miserable. Two couples and a family literally shoved me to the side, while standing in line to go through the TSA checkpoint, and cut in front of me. I was tired, hot, and furiously annoyed; but what could I do? Once inside, for a second time. I had to wait about 7 hours until my next plane arrived. Fortunately, AirFrance was kind enough to give me a meal voucher--this brightened my mood. Plus I still had plenty of time to switch planes in France.
Paris
A little over an hour later, we were on the runway but not moving in New York. At this point, my stomach was turning at the thought of how little time I would have in Paris. AirFrance gave us two delightful meals and the second one had coffee--a much-needed beverage. Another landing, this one was quite a rough landing. I had 1.5 hours to switch planes. Plenty of time, right? No. Everyone spoke French (I was in France) and almost no one spoke English. After being bussed off the runway and waiting through about 6 lines, (multiple passport checks, multiple boarding pass checks, and security) I did not have enough time. 30 minutes left, I was finally in line for, what I hoped was the last passport check. I probably looked semi-suspicious because I was constantly checking my watch for the time and phone for wifi (my only means of contacting anyone). I get passed the check point and look at my watch: 2 minutes left. I am at gate 1, looking for gate 28. Half running half walking, excited, I see a long line. I made it. Actually, that was the wrong line. My gate had five people in line and I was one of the last.
Plane to Fes
This final plane was small and everyone was speaking French and Arabic. Absolutely no English. My Arabic skills are nowhere near fluent, so I only understood half of what they were saying. I expected Fes, Morocco to be the same. I arrived in Morocco, claimed my luggage, and headed toward the exit. I wasn't sure how hotel-taxi pickups worked so I asked the only official-looking people I could find. These three men were in military-type uniforms and holding, what appeared to be automatic weapons, but I asked them for help anyway. Surprised by my approach, they tried to help me. They did not know much English so I tried my Arabic for size. It was awkward. We went back and forth between broken English and broken Arabic, but I figured out where to go and found my driver.
Fes Hotel
The Hotel was very nice, but I could not figure out how to turn on the lights. Overheated and exhausted, I wanted to shower, but not in the dark. I cranked the air conditioning down to 5 degrees Celsius and spent the next hour laying on the bed pondering how to turn on the lights. I finally figured out that one must insert their hotel card in a slot on the wall in order for the lights to work. Boy, did I feel stupid, but glad that I didn't ask for help. The next day I had to complete a money exchange, call the university, and find my way from Fes to Ifrane. The hotel instructed that there was a bank across the street. They did not tell me the name or how far it was. So I walked into what I thought looked like a bank--it was clean, there were people at counter-style desks, and there was a security guard. It wasn't a bank. I am not sure what it was, but I was in the wrong place. Luckily, the security guard knew where the bank was and walked me to it; he was very kind. Next, I called the university, with the assistance of a maintenance man because I could not figure out how to make external calls from the phone in my room. I talked to someone from Al Akhawayn and they directed me to go to the train station at 12:25. I went early and sat, eyes wide open looking for what could be my ride. I sat for a very long time, but I could not locate them. A thought occurred in my head that pickups might be designed in the same way as the airport: everyone waits outside. So I go outside. Wrong plan.
Fes Train Station to Ifrane
One step out the door and I am surrounded by taxi drivers competing for my business, speaking in French. I let them know I speak English, but they don't understand me. Time to try out my Arabic again. In Arabic I let them know that I can speak a little bit of Arabic. I see the excitement spark in their eyes. Then I am bombarded with rapid Arabic. I repeat, "little, little" because I can't remember the word for slow. I manage to understand that to get from Fes to Ifrane (I let them know I'm a student going to Al Akhawayn) I need to take a small taxi to the big taxis and that only a big taxi can take me to Ifrane and that it is very cheap. One of the men took me to where the big taxis were and explained where I needed to go. Everyone in this taxi was also only speaking French and Arabic. However, thanks to the other taxi driver they knew exactly where to take me. Now, I am not sure if they felt bad for me, were excited that I was attempting to learn Arabic, or if they were just all around good people, but I double checked the charges after the fact and they charged me very fairly for the two taxi rides.
Ifrane: AKA Al Akhawayn University
Once at the entrance to the university, I hiked in. It seemed like a long journey to the administrative office, but I now realize that was because I was carrying 36 pounds on my back, about 20 pounds on my front, and 5-8 pounds in my hand. I was also exhausted, hot, and a little flustered by my adventure. Finally, I found the office, was given water and shown to my room. My room is very spacious for a dorm, has nice big windows, and on the outskirts of the university. I am finally, semi-settled and orientation is tomorrow.
Side note: I am very grateful to my Arabic professor back home. Even though I didn't study nearly as much as I should have this summer, her teachings of the language and culture came in clutch. On another note, I went to a market and bought conditioner for my hair. It is very hard to find because most places only have shampoo, but it is there in limited quantities.
Shout out: My first friend on campus was the maintnance man. I believe he might be mute, but we communicated through hand motions and gestures until I understood where I was going. He is one of the nicest and most caring people that I've met here so far, he even waved to me this morning with a smile on his face.
