Me Around the World

Whose Win is it Anyway?

2011-05-09T10:06:00.000-07:00

Osama Bin Laden's death may be the most important event for the War on Terror since the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. However, many war hawks have taken the opportunity to tout the success of using torture to advance our security objectives. A win for the War on Terror does NOT equal a win for torture!

Check out my article on PolicyMic, hot off the presses, and tell me what you think!

PS. It was a HUGE honor to have my article re-tweeted by Anne Marie Slaughter today! (How did she find me? And did she even read it? All besides the point...)

"RT @SlaughterAM: Dick Cheney wrong. Torture didn't help us find Bin Laden, says @TrumanProject's @cskroch http://bit.ly/iiSIx5 "

Photo credit: cnbc

DCin'

2011-04-18T13:22:00.000-07:00

It’s about time for a status update, now 2 months into my work here in DC. I’m going to keep it short and sweet, because I have just a minute to spare.

Workin’- Work. Is. Busy. Way busier than I had anticipated it would be. Working long hours and juggling many different projects. I have nothing but love for my office and the values of the Institute. I learn something new every day, quite literally, and my boss has got to be one of the smartest women I’ve ever met personally. However, I am certainly learning what I don’t want to do, long-term. This includes sitting at a computer and only getting out of my chair to go to the ladies’ room and microwave my lunch. It’s an unhealthy way to live, overall, and I’m looking for ways to find balance in the every day.

I’m working on an awesome Democracy & Human Rights Initiative, as well as weapons nonproliferation policy. I can’t tell you how many amazing and swanky people I’ve met in these past few weeks, making me feel simultaneously very inspired and very small.

DC Livin’- I LOVE DC as a city. So much free stuff to do! Last Saturday my friend Sean and I went to an Ella Fitzgerald Jazz festival at the National Portrait Gallery. Cheap wine and free seats = gorgeous way to spend a rainy afternoon, and this is just one example of the eclectic and free offerings in the city.

Making new friends and reconnecting with old ones. After only a few weeks, I’m realizing that this city is actually quite small and everyone knows everyone (especially in the human rights field).

The Cherry Blossom Festival just ended, and there are few things more lovely than the rosy sunset reflecting on the Potomac, framed by soft pink and white cherry blossoms.

It Keeps Me Runnin’- I’ve been training for some upcoming races, and exploring the city via my training. I keep getting lost, however. The other day I got lost in the Rock Creek Parkway and ended up having to scramble down an embankment, only to pop out of the woods into a parking lot, looking like a sweaty, crazed, red-headed, mountain woman. A group of policemen turned around (turned out to be the DC police force parking lot). I just smiled and scampered away.

Common Threadin’- I’ve been volunteering as a chef instructor for Common Threads, an organization that teaches underprivileged kids about international cuisine, cooking skills, and holistic nutrition. Common Threads was founded by Art Smith, Oprah’s former personal chef, and I met Ralph Nader at our big fundraising event last week. I’ve really grown to love my students, and I’m learning more and more about poverty, food insecurity, and the U.S. food system. Next week my students “graduate”, and I never thought I’d say this (because you know how I feel about kids), but I’m really really going to miss all their rowdy little souls. It just made my day to hear Ta’lexus tell me that she now thinks McDonalds’ food is “nasty”- their favorite adjective. Another example:

Joscelyn (4th grade, seeing me come into the school in my business suit): “Miss Cath, where do you work?”
Me: “Well…I sort of work in politics.”
Joscelyn: (pause) “That nasty.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Lentin’- Not gonna lie and say everything has been 100% rosy cherry blossoms all the time since I arrived. It’s been a difficult transition that I didn’t see coming. I’ve been trying to practice Lent again deliberately this year. However, this practice has just exposed some deeply ingrained negative habits and thought patterns in my life. I’ve wrestled with them over the past 2 months, not really knowing a constructive outlet. This just further underscores the fact that I am a work in progress. However…

Redemptin’- As you know, Easter is my favorite religious holiday of the year. I just love everything it stands for: the springtime renewal, gentle grace, and the drama of redemption. A slow sea change is coming, I know, but I’m still working on this 2011 New Years Resolution: balance. Be Cath.

The News

2011-03-08T10:22:00.000-08:00

Today's news was so interesting!

First: thumbs down for President Obama, as he issues an executive order to create indefinite detention for Guantanamo Bay prisoners, a blatant contrast to his very first executive order as president.

Thumbs up for former Commander in Chief of CENTCOM, General Anthony Zinni,who has obviously been following my articles on PolicyMic. He basically reiterated what I said about the dangers of cutting funding to human security programs- most notably the US Institute of Peace. Only he got to say it in the New York Times in about 1000 words. Ugh, whatever. Not bitter.

Thumbs down for Obama.

A Big thumbs up for Kellogg, which, in honor of National Breakfast Day (today!), has started an initiative to donate breakfasts to the 1 in 4 American kids who live in food-insecure homes. If you post a photo or description of your breakfast on their website, then they will donate a meal. You can even send the photo from your phone!

Peacebuilding through food!

Happy Tuesday reading, y'all!

Thumbs up for breakfast.

The February Mean Reds Cake

2011-02-27T16:52:00.001-08:00

This February has signaled a sea change in a lot of areas of my life (see previous post), none the least being that my at-least-(yikes!)-10-year streak of heartwrenching, horrible, depressing Februaries has been broken.

I repeat: the curse has been broken.

Those who know me very well will understand just how profound this is. However, as a single, solitary day remains in this annual accursed month, I have somehow managed to escape the rhythm of terrible events, deaths, illnesses, breakups, exploding body parts, etc. Knock on wood.

I attribute this partially to me having outrun the month to a brand new city. Partially to a new, defiant, “I-can-do-this!” attitude. And mostly just to great grace.

And in honor of this total life shift, I’m presenting you, dear reader, with my very favorite recipe of the moment: French Lemon Yogurt Cake with Lemon-Saffron Buttercream Frosting. What I like to call: The Mean Reds Cake; AKA: edible sunshine.

I’ve brought this cake to 2 different dinner parties this February, and it has ended up being the belle of the ball, brightening up the dreariest of February days, and further demonstrating that Gluten-Free baked goods do not have to taste like sandy cardboard. Just substitued 1:1 GF Flour Mix and added a tsp of Xantham Gum. The photo is of the remains of last night’s dinner party: This cake I made with 2 layers, and a layer of toasted salted ground almonds in between, for a little crunch to the smooth weightlessness.

The recipe is adapted to be GF from Molly Wizenberg’s (genius) book, “A Homemade Life” (thanks again, Lynda!), which is adapted from her (genius!) blog . Highly highly recommended.

I skipped Molly's glaze, though, and instead for a buttercream, I used a simple recipe and sprinkled a little Moroccan saffron powder to get a sunnier yellow color and deeper flavor, instead of using yellow food coloring:

Lemon Buttercream Frosting

3 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
1/2 cup of butter (1 stick) softened
1/4 cup of milk
1 t vanilla
1 T lemon zest (the rind of a lemon)
2 T lemon juice

· mix the butter, lemon zest and vanilla together, making sure all the lumps are gone.

· add the milk, and quickly cream it into the butter mixture.

· by the 1/2 cup, mix in the sugar.

· once the sugar is all in the bowl, cream on "high" for two minutes. (I use this time to clean up)

· mix in lemon juice.

The worst is over.

New City, New Life

2011-02-24T13:24:00.000-08:00

So I've moved into a brand new neighborhood.

Into a brand new apartment...

With a brand new view out my window...

With brand new friends and neighbors...

There is incredible free art to be seen at countless museums...

and gluten-free cupcakes to be found around every corner!

...And best of all, new dreams to be built.

National Security through the art of dinner parties

2011-02-03T16:23:00.000-08:00

NYT Food Columnist (and food genius!) Mark Bittman makes the case for increased focus on the US food industry, for the safety of our bodies, and our nation. My next job post: part of the "Cooking Corps".
Read this veeeeery interesting article and tell me what you think!

“The chief happiness for a man is to be what he is.” -Erasmus

2011-01-29T21:02:00.000-08:00

2011: Be Gretchen.

Gretchen Rubin spent an entire year concentrating on increasing happiness by working on particular aspects in her life: her marriage in February, her work in March, her friendships in June, spirituality in August, etc. She writes about this year-long journey in The Happiness Project, which I’ve just finished reading. Through the course of this year, she comes up with “Twelve Commandments”; basically precepts that keep cropping up as she attempts to keep her monthly resolutions. Her very first commandment, “Be Gretchen”, is a concept that has been the theme of my life lately, and thus it is my 2011 New Year’s Resolution. (just in time! It’s legit to make resolutions anytime within the month of January, right?)

“I have an idea of who I wish I were, and that obscures my understanding of who I actually am.” Gretchen writes. “Sometimes I pretend even to myself to enjoy activities that I don’t really enjoy, such as shopping, or to be interested in subjects that don’t much interest me, such as foreign policy.”

I mean, I personally love foreign policy, but I see her point.

Too often I compare myself to others, or attempt to be interested in things, because I feel like I should. Like it will somehow make me a better person. But I’m sorry, I can’t cite very many hip new bands, I’ve never read Harry Potter, I’ll never look good in skinny jeans, and I just don’t care that much about economics. I really WANT to. But that’s just not Cath.

I once asked a friend when was the last time he did something just because he wanted to, just because it gave him life; not because it looked good on his resume or prepared him for the next step. To my suprise, this charming, composed, ambitious young man responded by crying.

And I could empathize. Life is too short, and we each need to invest in what gives us life.

And what better time to exercise “being Cath” than in a completely new setting? You may have noticed that I changed the layout of this blog recently (and still working on it!) My adventures will be less African-flavored, but no less adventuresome. I’m staring again at my beat-up red suitcases, packed and ready to head to Washington DC tomorrow morning.

Being at my parents' has been a fabulous whirlwind of reunions, celebrating the holidays, reading, conversations, planning for the future, and travels within the US. But besides gaining a couple of pounds on all this gluten-free goodness, I’ve gotta get out because I’m itching to get my hands dirty again. I thrive on work, I realized, and you know me…just can’t sit still. Time to move on.

So on the eve of the month which is always quite difficult for me, I’m starting anew. I’m hoping February won’t find me this year, if I move to a different city, or at least that it’ll be a little gracious. There are just so so many unknowns that I’m staring down. Daunting? More than a little. Exciting? That too.

Author Tal Ben-Shahar describes the “arrival fallacy” in his book Happier. The arrival fallacy is the idea that, though you may anticipate great happiness in arriving somewhere or reaching a goal, arriving actually rarely makes you as happy as you had anticipated. If there is one thing that I have learned in my life of travels it is this: the journey is the destination, as cliché as that is. I am being mindful of all these new adventures, and trying not to fear the future, and especially trying not to stake my happiness on “success” in my new DC life.

I’m not going to lie- I’ve had a few terrifying moments when I think over the bigness of what is ahead. New city, new job, new friends (inshahallah), new weather patterns (alhamdoulilah). However, I’ve come to serenity in the thought that I just need to “be Cath”, and enjoy the ride, no matter how dopey or unprepared I actually am.

So, still figuring out what “being Cath” means as I move on to The Next Big Thing. This is my newest adventure.

“As the Spanish proverb says, ‘He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry the wealth of the Indies with him.’”

-Samuel Johnson

What does Tunisia's meltdown mean for the Maghreb?

2011-01-15T19:10:00.000-08:00

“I am a doctor. This country needs doctors. You see the disconnect.”

Recent events in Tunisia remind me of the words of one of Morocco’s "Diplômés Chômeurs." Swept up in a protest this past fall outside of Rabat's Parliament, I asked one young man to explain the words on his sign: There is a disconnect between youth and the supposedly democratic regime, he described, which leaves both the populace unhappy and the country underdeveloped. The human capital is there. The jobs are not....

Read my full article on PolicyMic, and let me know what you think!

On Guantanamo Anniversary, Revisiting the Meaning of Torture

2011-01-12T20:53:00.000-08:00

I've been "hired on" as a contributing writer for PolicyMic, particularly in human rights and Global Affairs. PolicyMic is an awesome new online platform for debate and high quality political discussion for politically-minded, sharp young thinkers – both liberals and conservatives. I'm so impressed by the work they've done already, and I'm excited to be part of the team.

Check out my first article, on a subject that is near and dear to my heart: torture.

I'd love your comments!

Lessons Learned

2011-01-02T17:27:00.000-08:00

Here’s a little secret about me: I always keep my New Year’s Resolutions.

Here’s the secret about the secret: the trick is to only make resolutions that are so general that you can’t help BUT keep them. For example, my resolution for 2009 was “Trust”. And for 2010 it was “Learn”. Of course, I have a bunch of subheadings about what exactly I need to trust and what exactly I want to learn that year. But as 2011 has just smiled its pretty face, I pulled out my 2010 New Years Resolution Learn List, and have also been spending some quality time reflecting on what exactly I’ve learned in the past 15 months in Morocco. Here are some of the highlights:

I learned Arabic and French better than ever before.
I learned how to surf
I learned that all accomplishment and success means nothing if you don’t have community to share your triumphs and trials. The world loves accomplishment. You may be handed accolades on a silver platter. But none of this matters if you don’t have love and community. None of this matters if you aren’t actually learning from experience. Friends and family are essential to a healthy and joyful existence, as are vocations and avocations that tug at your heart and bless the world. However, I am not my work. I am not defined by what I accomplish, or what is bullet-pointed on my resume. “To go fast, walk alone. To go far, walk together.” –Rwandan Proverb.

Wisdom has 7 pillars: 1. Humility 2. Mournfulness: a broken heart over evil that exists in the world. 3. Meekness: being wise as a serpent yet harmless as a dove. 4. Obedience: seeking to do right. 5. Mercy. 6. Purity: being free from corruption. 7. Peace: being a peacemaker.
Make friends with your neighbors. It’s the best thing you can do for your personal safety.
Conflict resolution begins with humility. First, examine my own role in the conflict, and see what I am willing to sacrifice in order to reconcile. Don’t run away from conflict; face into it.
“The ultimate weapon in conflict: deliberate, focused love.” – Ken Sande
It doesn’t matter the work I do, it doesn’t matter what I do or don’t have, it doesn’t matter my uncertainties, it doesn’t matter where I am, it doesn’t matter my circumstances…the only thing that matters is my attitude towards my circumstances.
I already have everything I need to live the life I’ve imagined.
My dream job: world peace through dinner parties.
I learned how to write grants, research skills, public speaking, how to write better, and how to ask tough and sensitive questions gracefully
"Prayer embraces the world", to paraphrase Henri Nouwen. Prayer is not just asking for things, it is an attitude of the heart.
The last half of this year I’ve been going through the lessons & practices of solitude in my daily meditation. To be refreshed in the face of life’s difficulties, we must go from a place of loneliness to a place of solitude; a silence which reorders our life. This means not cutting ourselves off from the world, but rather standing upon a refreshing, intentional platform from which all our actions are directed.
I learned about heartbreak and resilience. And forgiveness.
Patience. Almost nothing moves at the pace of American Pragmatism. Learn to enjoy the waiting. “Happy is the man who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.”
Do not shave your legs before swimming in the Dead Sea. Trust me on this.

The most essential element of a healthy relationship is clear, honest, consistent communication.
I learned more than I could have imagined about torture. Torture continues to be a State practice in over 70 countries. It is a serious issue because it destroys the psyche of entire communities and has after-effects stretching for generations. The United States is a party to the UN Convention Against Torture, however the 2006 Military Commissions Act allows us to detain “enemy combatants” indefinitely and gave policy makers impunity for certain war crimes like torture. This has been used broadly since the “War on Terror” began, both on and off of American soil. Shame on us. Shame on others who hold innocent prisoners because of their own pride, ego, and fears. Shame on anyone who uses torture to assert their authority over another human being. I have learned that torture is an active, serious issue, particularly for Americans, and I need to do something about it. (What? www.witnesstorture.org)
When it comes to doing research: knock on doors unannounced. Keep knocking.
Dates, olives, and rosé make the most elegant welcome party for weary travelers. Lay those bits out and they will know that their arrival is truly special.
Be present. Be present. Be mindful of the present moment. What is truly worth concentrating on? What should I be letting go? “The issue is not where you are, but how you live wherever you are.” –Henri Nouwen

Always begin speeches with an anecdote, and add one in the middle too, right when people are starting to zone out.
And perhaps my biggest single accomplishment of 2010: learning how to drive stick shift.

Happy New Year

True Life: I'm a Fulbright Alum

2010-12-14T16:42:00.000-08:00

I’m staring at my 2 suitcases in the shambles of my Rabat apartment (how many bags can I check again?), glass of wine empty, crumbs from my birthday cake all over my table. Iron & Wine’s 10-minute song, “The Trapeze Swinger” is playing from somewhere. The song of closure.

Today’s my 24^th birthday. If you haven’t already noticed, I tend to get nostalgic around big life change, and today is no different. I woke up before dawn today and meditated over all this year has been. Remember my 23^rd birthday in Fes, the night before my Arabic final exam? Oh, what did I know back then? I can’t believe how much I’ve grown and learned since then…and how much I have left to learn.

Tomorrow I leave Morocco indefinitely. What an amazing 15 months this has been. And for nostalgia’s sake, here are some highlights. Remember this?:

-living with my host family in Fes

-The multi-colored Moroccan wedding

-The Red Tent, living with Caitlyn

-Fulbright retreat in Azrou, having our boss point out various species of monkeys.

-Camel trek into the desert, sleeping in a Berber tent. The infinite reach of the desert sky.

-Ameoibic dysentery with Tim and Cathy

-Floyd the goiter. Ugh, all the CRAZY medical issues I’ve had in this country.

-ALIF and the friends there

-Becoming a resident of Morocco (temporary, but still)!

-All the holidays, Kibeer, Sagheer, Christian, Muslim, what have you. Each one marked some special occasion across cultures

-Steve and Shi-Hsia’s wedding in Malaysia, Autumn & Mike’s wedding in WI

-Christmas in Dubai. Why yes, I did eat chocolate truffles covered in real gold, thankyouverymuch.

-New Years in Agadir with Edris & Julie. My 2010 New Year’s Resolution was to learn. I think I accomplished this pretty well.

-Team Chessington at the Marrakech ½ marathon

-Cooking. Eating. Conversation. Repeat.

-The AMRVT and the survivors & activists I’ve met. The stories I’ve heard that have made me cry, made me angry, and restored my hope in humanity.

-The June 26^th UN Day in Support of Victims of Torture in Casablanca.

-My apartment miracle in Rabat. Breakfasts watching the sunrise over the Atlantic ocean. I will never take this for granted.

-Visiting communal reparations programs around the country

-Surfing & Capoeira, and especially the friends I’ve made via

-Visitors!

-Les Celliers de Meknes. The most hashuma wine tour ever.

-hammams. Who knew I could possibly BE that dirty?!

-The Fulbright Symposium: explaining a half-century of human rights abuse and the solutions thereof in 20 minutes.

-Traveling alone, traveling in groups

-Lebanon, Syria, Jordan

-Gnaoua festival in Essaouira. Dinner with the producer of the tv show 24.

-Riding a motorcycle for the first time in my life- through the slums of Casablanca

-Dealing with a real-life stalker and security issues abroad

-Al Hoceima with C and the Womb.

-Discussing religions. Lent & Ramadan (both times)

These were just the big events. Each day was itself filled with discovery, adventure, failures, and small triumphs. And each of these days add up to a beautiful existential education.

I’ve been reading back through old blogs, and what I wrote previously rings true tonight, on the quiet eve of Something New:

“Just as February marks a tough spot for me every year, December is always a very reflective time. Because of the concurrence of my birthday (another year older, yikes!), Christmas (the holiday that started it all for me), and the New Year, I usually take some intentional time to take stock of what was, what is, and what is to come. 2009 was an incredible year. I graduated, moved to Morocco and began to set up a life for myself”

…2010 was also an incredible year. I moved, established a life, dove head-on into research and produced something that I am proud of [NOTE: If you want to read my final report, please message me with your email address and I’ll send it along. Beware, it’s 52 pages.] And beyond this, I made some beautiful friends, had some great laughs, and have laid my eyes on the most beautiful scenery on earth, hands-down.

“One year ago at this time, I remember worrying over post-graduation jobs and looking into 2009 as some gigantic uncertain haze. But now I see how all the threads were connecting to bring me exactly where I needed to be.”

…And one year ago at THIS time, I remember worrying about shifting my life from Fes to Rabat, worrying about starting my research and making community. But I should have learned: all the threads ARE connected to weave this tapestry of Growth and Experiences into something priceless.

Morocco: it’s been real. I’m terrible at goodbyes, so I’ll just say “see you later!” And, indeed, I know deep in my bones that we haven’t seen the last of each other.

Next post: lessons learned from My Moroccan Life.

“’How did it go so fast?’

You’ll say as we are looking back.

But then you’ll understand:

We held gold dust in our hands.”

This is the deepest secret that nobody knows....

2010-11-28T03:18:00.000-08:00

As an annual tradition, below is a list of blessings that I am thankful for this year:

-Family & Friends

-William J. Fulbright and his idea of cultural diplomacy

-laughter. There's not enough of this around.

-dinner parties with friends

-good books

-email/Skype/technology

-legit dark chocolate

-open doors

-solitude

-Freedoms, democracy

-sunsets, so I know that at the end of the day, all is not lost

-community with the same faith

-white and yellow daisies, on sale in the medina

-work. Hard work.

-coffee

-Jazz

-Capoeira, Surfing, running, yoga…which have all kept me sane this year

-the Ocean. Oh man, the ocean so much. And the sea. Specifically the Mediterranean Sea

-My Spice Guy in the medina who gives me new spices to experiment with (“Catherine! Try this! It’s called ‘Hub al-Heel’, and I don’t know what to do with it.” Turns out it’s cardamom…and amazing in chocolate cake.)

-The Fulbright Family

-opportunities for reconciliation

-lazy Sundays. Sunday lunch with family

-As Aunt Diana said, “The things I’ve done! The places I’ve been! The men I’ve loved!”

-Having all 5 of my senses intact. Still working on the fashion sense, though…

-Celiac Disease, which I’m convinced will save my life someday. Sigh.

-Christmas, Easter, and the Fourth of July

-Arabic class

-Safety

-Health. Legit medical care. Good health can make or break any experience.

-the AMRVT

-weddings

-breakfast

-visitors

-Caitlyn

-my concierge, who takes good care of me and his wife who makes the best sheep-liver-wrapped-in-fat kebabs

-my invaluable education, and all the people who made it possible

-mentors

-music, this blessed ipod

-Adopted families (Hi Lynda! Hi Jonathan & Lynn!...I mean, does anyone else even read this blog?)

-housing. Won’t ever take this for granted again.

-American citizenship. Ditto.

-summertime

-Jim & Saadia

-Jesse & Cherry, the boys of the Dar Side

-Joe Elder & Jon Pevehouse & Uncle Edris Makward

-The Batcave

-All the letters & packages & phone calls I’ve received abroad.

-The people I’ve interviewed this year who have taught me more about healing and reconciliation

-The man who taught me about humility and conflict resolution this year

-Grace. Always grace.

-The unknown road ahead

I reiterate what I said last year, I am thankful for what is, what has been, and what is to come.

Beyond any experience or accomplishment, I’m finding that I want my life to be a symphony of thankfulness, because that is where true perspective is found.

It seems like just yesterday, I was Turkey Trottin', cookin', eatin' cakes with the King's face on them, and hoot dancin' with a bunch of Brits and other Fulbrighters. Where does the time go? I mean, seriously.

20 days till I leave. Yikes! YIKES.
But I’m still trying to be very present here. I just hosted a Thanksgiving FEAST for a motley international group of friends at my apartment. On the menu:

-Green Bean Salad with almonds, pomegranates, & clementines (courteousy of Alison)

-deviled eggs
-Spinach salad with blue cheese, walnuts, bright green apples, and tiny hot pink radishes (in honor of Caitlyn)
-garlic mashed red potatoes
-baked macaroni and cheese with turkey sausage
-rolls with butter
-Chicken apricot tajine (okay, it was a moroccan-american fusion thanksgiving...but I spiced the apricots with cloves and nutmeg and cinnamon)
-spiced apple cider
-pumpkin pie with whipped cream
-maple apple pie
-chocolate brownies with chocolate ganache
-Shrub. (wine) Darury.

And all of it Gluten-free!! (except the rolls). It was sort of my goodbye, thank-you, I-love-all-of-you meal.

I made everyone go around and say, in their own languages, what they were thankful for. It was so touching, and I just looked around at everyone laughing and talking with plates piled high with food and felt happier than ever. As I was falling asleep that night, after cleaning with Salma and Brittany until 2am, I thought to myself, "Okay, now I'm ready to leave".

And I am thankful for the opportunity to move. To be ever moving, never static, no matter where I am.

“Here is the deepest secret nobody knows:
Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
Which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide.
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart.
(I carry it in my heart.)”

-e.e. cummings

An Outsider's Perspective

2010-11-21T07:43:00.000-08:00

Caitlyn's friend Ian (and his friend Michael) came to visit for a few days when I was also visiting her in Tetouan. As an architecture student at UCLA, not only does he have an eye for art and amazing photography skills, in his blog he also writes wonderfully about How The Moroccan System Works from an "outsider's" persepective- beginning with being hussled into buying a carpet within his first 3 hours in the country.

I encourage you all to check it out!

2010-11-20T14:48:00.000-08:00

The Pride of Morocco: Couscous.

2010-11-14T12:51:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay, I know I’ve been majorly MIA lately. And I know that my last post talked aaaall about Morocco’s beautiful scenery, but didn’t include a single photo. I don’t know about you, but I strongly dislike blog posts without pictures. It’s difficult to read so many words without a break. Kinda like the Wall Street Journal.

But, fact is, I can’t get a single picture from my trip to upload! I’ve tried, I promise! And I still want to fix that, because they are simply (as I tried to emphasize in the post) blow-your-mind-beautiful.

So, to make it up to you, I’m offering you the information you’ve all been waiting for. Finally. FINALLY. A recipe for Moroccan couscous.

I know, for a blog that has healthy servings of recipes (haha. punny.) how could I come to Morocco and not blog/rave about the couscous first thing? I mean, it's Morocco's national dish! A couple of reasons:

1. 1. As a Celiac, I can’t actually eat couscous. Um. Yeah. That throws a wrench in things. In fact, when I first arrived, a previous Fulbrighter remarked: “How are you supposed to make any Moroccan friends if you can’t eat couscous?! The way you make friends here is by going to their house for Friday couscous!”

Well, it seems like I’ve done just fine for myself on the friend-making front, but it was much more difficult to explain my Glutard Situation to Moroccans. But I’m used to that. It was even MORE difficult to find gluten-free couscous. But ladies and gents, it was found! In a specialty shop where the rice couscous was billed for diabetics andIwontevenTELLyouhowmuchitcost. But, score!

2. 2. I was a bit busy with…uh…other stuff...than to write about couscous. And more interested in other recipes.

Back in the Land Efficiency and Pragmatism, where our mantra is “Time is Money”, we’re used to 5-minute microwave couscous. Freakin’ 5-minute microwave everything, in fact. But this is simply NOT how Moroccan culture works. Life moves slow here, cooking moves even slower. Cooking is a deliberate, familial, complex, almost religious process (for some, though this is changing in modern times). Women (and indeed, almost exclusively woman) wake up at the crack of dawn to take their bread which has risen overnight to the public oven, so that the family can eat steaming fresh khubz for breakfast…and all day long. But no preservatives are used, so the bread is stale by the next day. Lunch takes all morning to make, sometimes. Dinner is (usually) a lighter meal, or leftovers, giving time for the women to prepare bread for the next day. So the ritual is repeated, day after day.

Couscous is traditionally served every Friday for lunch, as the big family meal after the men go to prayers at the mosque. The women go to market in the morning, then spend the day preparing the food. It is eaten around one communal bowl, everyone with their own spoon (or the old Berber grannies with their hands), and only the foreigners making huge messes of themselves. Then, everyone passes out from the inevitable “couscous hangover”. This, my friends, is why life moves so slow in Morocco. I blame the couscous. Ahem.

With my Couscous Diabetique in hand, my lovely neighbor Samira volunteered to teach me how to make couscous in a traditional Moroccan steamer. Even her husband remarked that it was “pretty good, for American couscous”.

AND, Don’t even get me started on making couscous by hand, starting from wheat flour, adding a little water, rolling it between your hands, sifting it, rolling, sifting, repeat, add more water, roll, sift, set out to dry, sift……

Nah. I’ll buy couscous in a package, thanks. It’ll be so worth it, but it will still take some quality time to make this:

Moroccan Lamb Couscous*

For four people, you'll need:

1 lb lean lamb, cubed (NOTE: Any meat can be substituted or omitted, just make sure that you check it for doneness often)
2 onions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
pinch saffron threads
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp paprika
1 fresh red chili, deseeded and chopped
½ tsp ground dry ginger
½ lb carrots, quartered lengthways
½ lb small turnips, quartered
½ lb celeriac, cubed

½ lb pumpkin, peeled & cubed
1 lb couscous
2 tsp olive oil or argane oil
4 tomatoes, skinned and quartered
bunch coriander, chopped
bunch parsley, chopped
4 Tbsp butter

1 ½ cups golden raisins

1 ½ cups onions, julienned

¼ cup sugar

1 Tbsp cinnamon
salt and pepper

First cook the lamb. You can either put it into a pot or (the Moroccan Way), cook all meat and veggies in the bottom of the couscous steamer, so the flavor infuses into the couscous grains. Add 4 cups water or stock, onions, garlic, saffron, cinnamon, paprika, chili, ginger and salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, skim and simmer gently for 30 minutes.

Add the carrots, turnips, pumpkin and celeriac and continue to simmer for 15 minutes.

In a large bowl, drizzle the oil over the couscous with 1 ½ cups water, stir and leave to stand for 10 minutes. Add another 1 cup water and separate the grains with a fork. Leave to stand for another 10 minutes. Put into a steamer or sieve over boiling water and steam uncovered for about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, add the tomatoes, coriander and parsley and cook for around 5 minutes until the lamb and vegetables are tender.

In a separate pot, boil the raisins until puffy and soft. Drain off most of the water, leaving just a few tablespoons. Add onions, sugar, and cinnamon and caramelize onions until wilted.

Fork through the couscous to separate the grains and turn onto a large serving plate. Dot with butter and season. Form into a mound with a well in the centre, and, using a slotted spoon, place the lamb and vegetables into the well. Place raisin/onion mixture on top in the center. Pour some cooking liquid over, and eat! Then nap.

B’saHa!

Freebie Alert! In the spirit of Thanksgiving, here’s a little Moroccan-American fusion recipe to get your juices flowing. You can thank me later.

*Recipe Adapted from Samira’s ancient family recipe and The View From Fez Blog: http://riadzany.blogspot.com/2009/11/moroccan-lamb-couscous-recipe.html

Photo credit: http://www.elevenshadows.com/travels/postcards1.htm

The Road Alone

2010-10-17T09:04:00.000-07:00

Farewell today
Travel on now
Be on your way
Go safely there
Never worry
Never care
Beyond this day.

I have a strong conviction that everyone, at least once in their life, should travel.

Doesn’t have to be far. Doesn’t have to be exotic. Just get outside of the boundaries of everything familiar, and soak up something different. After all, as the wise Momma Skroch always says, “Travel is the best teacher.”

I also have a strong conviction that everyone, at least once in their life, should travel alone.

Having traveling companions definitely makes mishaps and long lines more bearable. And, of course there is the safety factor, particularly for women. However, learning how to be comfortable in your skin and learning how to trust your own footsteps is an invaluable life skill. One way to learn this is through solitude and solitary travel.

I have been studying the philosophy of solitude in my daily meditation, and I had the opportunity to put it into practice last week when I went for a little southerly trek on my own.

Jebel Toubkal: North Africa’s Tallest Mountain

J, my old college roommate, and 5 of her Gambian Peace Corps comrades used a couple weeks of their precious vacation time to come and tour Morocco. I joined them for the southern leg of their journey. We joined up in Marrakech, and caught grand taxis to Imlil. Imlil is a tiny village, known mostly as a base camp for hikers anticipating the climb of North Africa’s tallest mountain, Jebel Toubkal.

At 4167 meters at the summit, Toubkal is more of a hike than a climb, with a (mostly) clear path sloping upwards. There are a few refuges a little more than halfway up, so most sane (ahem, CaitlynRodSamRoz) people split the trek into two days. That was our plan, but was apparently not the plan of October’s Weather Forecast.

Imlil is already pretty high up, and when we arrived it was already what I like to call “perfect apple-picking weather”. You know, bright blue sunny sky with huge fluffy clouds and just a wee chill in the air. You need a sweater, but you take it off if you’ve been walking around too much. Bonfire nights. Ya dig?

We stayed in the super friendly/cozy/affordable Hotel Imi N’ouassif, and the morning we awoke, pumped for the first 5-hour climb to the refuge, it was already pouring rain. So we sat around over a lazy breakfast, chatting with the other restless hikers, catching bits of American films dubbed into Arabic. (The Groomsmen, anyone? Like a chick flick in reverse). Finally, around noon, the drizzle burned off and we decided to chance it.

We hiked through some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen. First, winding up through a forest with hidden waterfalls above Imlil, then breaking open into a vast valley with purple and green stones covering the floor. Then, cutting upwards through walnut, apple, and cherry trees, through low-lying rainclouds. Every so often we’d pass an old Berber woman carrying a load of brush on her back, singing or praying as she blithely ascended…usually not far behind was her husband, not carrying anything, but whipping a donkey. Way to go, Ladies.

The breathtaking majesty of the mountains, the postcard perfection of the valley and clouds and streaming sunlight are indescribable. Almost cliché. We kept joking about how we had made it to The Shire. My photos do not do it justice, so I’ll just hide it away in my own memory.

After about 3 hours of climbing, we had only made it as far as The Marabout Mosque, which is about halfway between Imlil and the refuge. We were poorly equipped and taking our time to snap photos along the gorgeous route. In fact, when a group of hardcore Spanish hikers passed us on their descent, they told us how they had not even made it to the top, because of terrible weather conditions. One looked at D, in her socks and sandals, and called us “Viking Women”. I’ll take it as a compliment.

We stopped to picnic at an almost-too-perfect waterfall, just as the clouds were rolling in and the drizzle began. We ate quickly, and decided to descend. We were happy with our hike, and none of us feel like we missed out by not being able to summit. It took us 2 hours to get back down, and we arrived back in Imlil juuuust as the rain was starting and the darkness setting in.

Most of us decided to catch a grand taxi back to Marrakech that night, for my amigos to get an early start to Essaouira and me to Demnate the next day.

Demnate: North Africa’s Largest Dinosaur Footprints (not a joke.)

The next morning we said our “a bientot’s” and set out on our separate ways. I really wanted to visit this mountainous region of Morocco, and missed the Cascades d’Ouzoud last time I was there, so this is just something I had to do, for myself. Soon it will be too cold to hike, and there was a wee bit of research I could do in the area…so why not?

My Road Alone began with a 2-hour wait at the grand taxi stand in Marrakech, waiting for enough people (6) to fill up the taxi to Demnate. Patience.

When I finally rolled into the tiny town, I decided on Hotel Marrakech. A good choice, if only for Sidi Mohammed, the owner, who took me under his wing as his granddaughter. I think he felt sorry for me as a woman traveling alone. In any case, he was very helpful and volunteered his nephew to show me around the caves of Imi N’Ifri.

Just 6 km outside of Demnate, Imi N’Ifri has rock formations and caves that make a natural bridge and waterfalls. Just stunning. In fact, if you stand in a certain spot inside the gorge, the scenery makes a map of Africa in the sky. And, just a little further away, the villagers are proud to show you a large dinosaur footprint imprinted in stone. Pretty cool.

So I explored a bit, then went back to town and explored more, walking down to the river. Demnate is set amongst rolling mountains and forests. Calm and peaceful once you get outside of the bustling town center. I decided to stick around for a few more days.

Cascades d’Ouzoud: North Africa’s Largest Waterfall

Because Demnate is between Marrakech and the Cascades d’Ouzoud- the tallest waterfalls in North Africa (sensing a theme?)- I decided to take a day trip to hike and picnic. However, because Demnate is not a major transportation hub (think: Lansquenet-sous-Tannes-esque sleepy little mountain town instead), I couldn’t find a single soul to share a grand taxi with me for the 1.5 hour journey. That is, until a group of French tourists (artists, bien sur) came screaming into town, straight from Marrakech, stopping to buy cigarettes. Mom, skip to the next paragraph now. I decided to try my hand at hitchhiking, and it turned out to be the best decision.

I chatted and laughed with two men and two women, plus their Moroccan driver, on vacation from Bordeaux. I was practically sitting on E’s lap the whole time, and she was such a good sport about it. As we passed olive groves and almond fields, they told me about how Morocco has changed in the past 10 years, since they began their annual trips. Once at the Cascades, we split up and I climbed down into the falls and back up the other bank, then followed the course of the river through a tiny village on my own.

Needless to say, the views were breathtaking. The 110-meter, 3-tiered falls create rainbows and cool freshwater pools. I got a little lost climbing up the steep, wooded banks and into the village. But again, it was an exercise in trusting my intuition and putting one foot in front of the other.

When I met up again with the French Tourists, we lazed out and picnicked in the sunshine. And despite the disapproving looks of Moroccans around us, and to our driver’s amusement, they opened up the trunk of the taxi and busted out bottles of red wine- of course- because, as E explained, “It is unthinkable to have lunch without wine!” Gotta love the French…especially those who hike in heels and keep corkscrews in their pockets.

The afternoon passed slowly and luxuriously, with warm red wine and cigarettes and conversation about art (E is an art restorer for Bordeaux’s chateaus) and religion (she believes in reincarnation, and says she was a courtesan in a previous life) and her travels (she traveled to Cuba and India long before Michael Moore and all the hippies thought it was cool). Too soon it was time to return.

We wound around the mountainsides, stopping at orchards along the road to pick almonds, to splay out under the enormous blue sky, and to munch on pomegranates, which are in season for about 75 cents a kilo.

They dropped me off at the fork in the road leading in either direction to Demnate or Marrakech. I hitched the final 9 kilometers back to town, but I wasn’t ready to go back to the hotel. I climbed up the mountain, up and up, until I found a pretty little sitting spot overlooking the village in the valley below. Drowsy and dreamy from the wine, the sunshine, and the beauty of the day, I watched the sun go down over the mountains, and realized that there was no place I would rather be at that moment in time. My journey had been adventurous and restorative. I had been able to focus more on what I want my remaining 2 months in Morocco to look like. Most of all, I had learned from strangers about caring for others, trusting in myself, being open, being careful, and most importantly, about being present. I have a lot to pay forward.

Quit while you’re ahead. It was time to go home. The next day, after hugging Uncle Mohammed goodbye, I was waiting for over an hour to get a cab to Marrakech. The town is so small that Marrakech is considered the swanky big city where you only go for serious business. By the grace of God (another theme of my life), an Moroccan family was making a day trip to the big city and invited me into their car. I chatted with the daughter, and aside for the baby-vomiting-on-my-jeans incident, the ride was pleasant.

Even the train ride back to Rabat was fascinating. I sat in a cabin with a retired French woman who has started an adventure travel company here (Really gotta love the French), a government official from Ouarzazate (where a few secret prisons are located, remember?), and a very outspoken Communist university student, whose father was imprisoned and tortured during the Years of Lead. SUCH interesting conversation.

Rolling into Rabat’s train station brought a wonderful sense of coming home. Home, I guess, is where my passport is. But as I travel alone, I am learning to be more at home anywhere in the world. To find friends and experiences and to carve little niches for myself, filing memories away in my mind, stories to be retold at future dinner parties.

As much as the mountains are inspiring, I have sure missed the ocean. It’s good to be home.

Farewell tonight
To all joy and to all delight
Go well and go peacefully
We can't keep your majesty
Be on your way.

-Natalie Merchant, “King of May”