tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6079278200367895582024-03-14T00:08:54.870-07:00St. Olaf Term in the Middle East (TIME) 2010Updates, anecdotes, and info from the St. Olaf 2010 Term in the Middle East program. Check in regularly for new postings of stories and photographs.Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-55695015424591746512010-12-26T12:14:00.000-08:002010-12-26T12:14:00.184-08:00overTIMEOnce TIME was up, seven of us went on into overTIME. At ten pm on the 14th we loaded into one small taxi and began our 12 hour overnight journey across Egypt toward the Promised Land. After spending several hours enjoying the waiting room of the Israeli border security, we were let in to a different world. The streets were clean, the cabs were nice, and everything was expensive. Kelsie and Hannah embarked on their own two day stint in Petra while Josef, Luke P, Sarah, Katie, and I got ourselves a cabride to Jerusalem.<br />
<br />
The Holy City is spectacular. The golden dome of the Dome of the Rock stands out brightly along the city skyline. Our highlights in Isreal have included floating in the Dead Sea, walking the palisade walls of the Old City, biking around the Sea of Galilee, touring the Holocaust Museum, and visiting the Western Wall. Kelsie, Josef, Sarah, Katie and Hannah were able to visit Hebron and Bethlehem with a Palestinian tour service and were amazed by the incredible stories of grief and hope. On the 21st we travelled west to Tel Aviv to take in the night scene and see Luke and Josef off.<br />
<br />
And then we were five. On Christmas Eve we met up with Ed and Lois and travelled down to the little town of Bethlehem. Church services, caroling, candels, and mullled wine combined to make an unforgetable Christmas. The Palestinians work hard to present a safe and welcoming environment in Bethlehem, but one can hardly forget their plight. They sell small Nativity sets with strong political reminders: Mary and Joseph walking toward the stable, blocked off by a wall. Christmas day we exchanged gifts and attended a nice Christmas potluck at the pastor's house.<br />
<br />
We left home 4 months ago today and at 12:45 tonight we leave. OverTIME will be over.<br />
<br />
Time is what some might call a nonrenewable resource. Once it passes, you can never get it back. The past four months have been filled with some of the most incredible adventures of our lives - we have done and seen things that we will never forget. We have filled our journals, our suitcases, and our memories with momentos from our TIME so that we will remember what it meant to us. Now that <b>TIME</b> is over, we look forward to the <b>time</b> ahead - a time filled with laughter, friendships, and new adventures together which will forever change our lives.<br />
<br />
Thanks for following our blog,<br />
And TIME'rs, thanks for the trip of a lifetime.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TRefuw9k00I/AAAAAAAAAGo/nnmHYx_CdHY/s1600/155703_470150667511_501337511_5501652_4540136_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>Jon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TRefzoJxotI/AAAAAAAAAGs/jQ8Cyap-qEE/s1600/156926_477691682511_501337511_5618049_7170960_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TRefzoJxotI/AAAAAAAAAGs/jQ8Cyap-qEE/s320/156926_477691682511_501337511_5618049_7170960_n.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-12525081104424312172010-12-11T09:39:00.001-08:002010-12-11T09:39:56.088-08:00TIME Hits the Books<p>As TIME examined Ed Langerak’s lengthy study guide on the bus back to Cairo from Hurghada, we began to accept the fact that we had a lot of work ahead of us. We had just spent a week touring Pharaonic temples, sailing down the Nile, and lounging on the Red Sea, but as finals approached, we needed to hit the books. <p>Now, instead of discussing the roles of the Egyptians gods, we discuss the role of the restraint principle in the public square. Instead of enjoying the liberty to sleep until noon on the beach, we reexamine Galston’s proposal for expressive liberty. Instead of immersing ourselves in philosophical musings, we immerse ourselves in detailed definitions and perspectives. <p>At all hours of the night, residents of the Cosmo can see Oles scattered throughout the lobby and lounges, headphones on, rereading articles and writing study guides. It looks as if we are all hard at work, engrossed in philosophy or paper writing. Although our efforts are ultimately productive, sometimes we find it hard to concentrate without a semester’s worth of studying stamina behind us… <p>Kelsie writes notes with her blue marker, daydreaming about sitting at the prow of a felucca, sailing down the Nile and into the sunset… <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3PtNIDEI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Y4T-et8Vrg8/IMG_7405%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7405_thumb" border="0" alt="IMG_7405_thumb" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3QC--fMI/AAAAAAAAAFk/MiErr8c8i4k/IMG_7405_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>…At the next table, Claire copies a definition down in her small, meticulous handwriting, and she’s reminded of the quality of the artistry in the tombs. She was always one of the last ones observing the paintings covering the walls and the ceilings… <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3Rd2QNBI/AAAAAAAAAFo/hO_R_LDQg8o/IMG_7288%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7288_thumb" border="0" alt="IMG_7288_thumb" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3SL_FSYI/AAAAAAAAAFs/LDqwYV3nYlE/IMG_7288_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>...Kate twirls a strand of her hair, looking at something she’s written on a green post-it note, wishing she was looking down at the green valley along the Nile in the Valley of the Kings. You couldn’t beat the view from the basket of a hot air balloon at six in the morning… <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3S_N-p5I/AAAAAAAAAFw/wjxrIhAamjQ/IMG_7517%5B2%5D%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7517_thumb[4]" border="0" alt="IMG_7517_thumb[4]" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3TWHcFRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/QCUSPUu0bKY/IMG_7517_thumb%5B4%5D%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>…Katie Curtis scrolls along the document of her Dell, thinking about how great it would be to see the sound and light show at the Pyramids before the trip ends… <p>…Nick quickly scans Kate’s study guide before she comes back, wishing he was back in his scuba gear, scanning the coral for tropical fish and the octopi… <p>…Connor chooses a new song on his iPod, longing to bestow his good taste in music on the whole group as they hang out under the Hurghada stars… <p>…Jon sighs, looking worn out, and wishing that he was exhausted from examining the never-ending series of Egyptian temples and artifacts instead of from studying the never-ending debates about human rights… <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3UrbmAsI/AAAAAAAAAF4/M-GPlb7SXy4/IMG_7556%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7556_thumb" border="0" alt="IMG_7556_thumb" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3VEEG5eI/AAAAAAAAAF8/sKjjCiwrPrA/IMG_7556_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>…Sarah turns through her notebook pages, longing to be turning over cards in one of the many euchre games played on the bus rides through the desert… <p>…Bri adjusts her reading glasses, thinking back to when she was adjusting her camera settings so that she could capture the sunrise over the Valley of the Kings… <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3V6hfYFI/AAAAAAAAAGA/zm8Z_NQ9SVw/IMG_7120%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7120_thumb" border="0" alt="IMG_7120_thumb" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3WZh0JwI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Hg0nVn7F6r0/IMG_7120_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>…Nandini savors a piece of chocolate to help her get through the day, yearning for the time when she was savoring the view of the Mediterranean Sea from Fort Qaitbey in Alexandria… <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3XXS-OYI/AAAAAAAAAGI/DOUOHsjVM5E/IMG_6747%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_6747_thumb" border="0" alt="IMG_6747_thumb" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3XyioTgI/AAAAAAAAAGM/zLW6-oHAx9I/IMG_6747_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>…Luke Peterson stares at his computer with a look of intense concentration…not realizing that he’s sitting in front of a mirror, and we can all see that he’s actually playing Tetris. But he has finished his paper so he’s a step ahead of most of us… <p>…Alondra sips her Pepsi and tries to soak in all of the information, thinking back to when she was soaking up the sun on the snorkeling boat… <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3YsjN6wI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/7b8F19pqPSg/IMG_7604%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7604_thumb" border="0" alt="IMG_7604_thumb" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3ZAtPvaI/AAAAAAAAAGU/y84mwlMYssM/IMG_7604_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="185"></a> <p>…Josef writes a definition in his notebook, wishing he was looking at the writing of the ancient Egyptians or maybe even the graffiti of the 19<sup>th</sup> century European tourists found on most of the ancient temples… <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3ZzTJmzI/AAAAAAAAAGY/8aDIsYcpQsI/IMG_7055%5B2%5D%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="IMG_7055_thumb[4]" border="0" alt="IMG_7055_thumb[4]" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TQO3acJ4WTI/AAAAAAAAAGc/6QyE3ZwkWds/IMG_7055_thumb%5B4%5D%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="185" height="244"></a> <p> <p>…Luke Telander can’t be found in the lounge because he’s off exploring some other part of Cairo. We’re still not sure whether he’s more efficient at preparing or just less likely to stress over a final… <p>…Eliza combs her hair as she scribbles in her notebook, wishing she was examining the everyday artifacts of the Egyptians—combs, jewelry, and even beds… <p>And I type on my computer, looking like I’m working hard on my study guide when I’m actually writing this blog post. <p>Here’s to all A’s! <p>- Hannah Ehlenfeldt Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-71573694722767686652010-11-11T11:41:00.000-08:002010-11-11T11:53:20.449-08:00TIME Grows a Beard As we embark upon our adventures in Egypt and say goodbye to Morocco, so must the men from TIME – and maybe some of the women – embark on the journey that is No-Shave-November and say goodbye to their boyish good looks. Razors have been packed away like so many pumpkin decorations before them while peach fuzz and a lack of attention from most girls have taken their place. This month is more of a tribute to our heavily bearded professor and fearless leader, Ed Langerak, than an excuse for us look scrappy or scruffy. Beginning in Essaouira, Morocco at midnight on Halloween, continuing through the rest of Moroccan excursion - Marakech, Rabat and Casablanca - and now moving on to Egypt, No-Shave-November has taken the Middle East by storm. In order to involve those of you keeping score at home, the men from TIME figured it would be smart to give you all a play-by-play of facial hair growing patterns and predictions for the month. Now that we have over a week of growing under our belts, things are finally starting to get interesting. I'll be sure to add reference pictures to explain my lame jokes.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Let’s begin with Jon Laven. Hailing from Chanhassen, MN, John sports by far the most, the thickest, and the manliest facial hairs in the group. He can actually grow a beard, and he’s had one since we were in Turkey. His beard has awarded him several nicknames. Among them are ‘Grizzly Adams’, ‘Beardy’, ‘Ed Langerak Jr.’, and ‘Jesus’. The last nickname being the most relevant – it’s uncanny how much he looks like Jesus. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNw_6wB5CBI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lMqzfLBel7o/s1600/IMG_1557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNw_6wB5CBI/AAAAAAAAAEc/lMqzfLBel7o/s200/IMG_1557.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jon, in all his glory</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Moving on to Nick Stang, we begin to see the unfortunate side of No-Shave-November. While Nick’s facial hairs are definitely noticeable, they reside only on his neck, chin and his upper lip. You might be thinking that his facial hair must be the most unfortunate part about Nick’s appearance and overall hygiene, but you’d be wrong – his feet smell really bad. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAVy0ZAwI/AAAAAAAAAEk/1LV3L32yPMQ/s1600/IMG_1560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAVy0ZAwI/AAAAAAAAAEk/1LV3L32yPMQ/s200/IMG_1560.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nick has seen better days</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Josef Lorentz, or Yousef, as our new Middle Eastern friends call him, resembles what we’d all imagine a 13 year-old Robert Downey Jr. might look like. For some reason, his hair only comes in goatee-form, save the four hairs he has on the side of his face: three hairs on the left, one on the right. We’re nervous about the outcome. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAJY6obkI/AAAAAAAAAEg/SK5QWGN_bco/s1600/IMG_1558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAJY6obkI/AAAAAAAAAEg/SK5QWGN_bco/s200/IMG_1558.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josef, hiding his shame</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://snarkerati.com/movie-news/files/2008/06/robert-downey-jr-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://snarkerati.com/movie-news/files/2008/06/robert-downey-jr-2.jpg" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Downey Jr.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
On the other hand, I have always wanted a beard. Always. But, due to a lack of courage and facial hair distribution, I have never tried. I always imagined I’d grow up to find a young Jerry Garcia looking back at me in the mirror, but I wound up staring at Andy Richter instead. Here’s to hoping I have a beard to come home with in December. Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxBNJ3F5uI/AAAAAAAAAE0/Jv9C6-d-3P0/s1600/IMG_1564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxBNJ3F5uI/AAAAAAAAAE0/Jv9C6-d-3P0/s200/IMG_1564.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Connor, trying to pull off a blonde beard</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.humblepress.com/Concert/graphics/gallery/garcia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.humblepress.com/Concert/graphics/gallery/garcia.jpg" width="163" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jerry Garcia</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/20090224/425.richter.obrien.022409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="http://images.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/20090224/425.richter.obrien.022409.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy Richter: Conan's sidekick, Connor's doppelganger </td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Moving down the roster, Luke Peterson, the 6’ 8’’ Neanderthal whose long, luscious locks are barely tamed by a red headband – which appropriately matches his ginger-beard. Luke’s facial hairs are noticeable enough to resemble a beard; we’re all just worried he’ll find himself single after the month is over. Good luck, Katie. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxA_IxexEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/JkmwjB2zaNs/s1600/IMG_1563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxA_IxexEI/AAAAAAAAAEw/JkmwjB2zaNs/s200/IMG_1563.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luker, headband and all</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
And finally, the unsung hero of No-Shave-November, Luke Telander’s facial hairs remind us of our pubescent selves. We have yet to confirm their existence, but sometimes, and in the right light, we catch a glimpse. We’re all suspicious he’s shaving half the time, but thankfully, his razor is broken.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAzD1E6_I/AAAAAAAAAEs/ZwqDRXynXVw/s1600/IMG_1562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAzD1E6_I/AAAAAAAAAEs/ZwqDRXynXVw/s200/IMG_1562.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luke T., what kind of face are you making?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Ed Langerak hasn't had a clean shaven face since 1974. No-Shave-Adulthood. We're proud to know you, Ed, here's to many more years of facial hair growing. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAmX67rpI/AAAAAAAAAEo/R1SOfUaF1pM/s1600/IMG_1561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNxAmX67rpI/AAAAAAAAAEo/R1SOfUaF1pM/s200/IMG_1561.JPG" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ed, our Fearless Leader</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
As we turn to the weeks ahead, Nick Stang and I have been making predictions of the triumphs and tragedies that the group will know by the time December 1st rolls around. Only TIME will tell. <br />
<br />
<ul><li>John Laven will shave his beard before the end of the month. Quitting, just like he did when the group fasted on last day of Ramadan. We all saw the muffin, Beardy.</li>
</ul><ul><li>St. Olaf’s predominant Norwegian heritage will shine through. No one will look that good.</li>
</ul><ul><li>Lois won't be able to stop complimenting the boys on the trip. Until we shave, we’re taking Ed’s beard’s place.</li>
</ul><ul><li>Nick Stang will keep his “moustache” for the rest of his life. He really thinks that thing looks good.</li>
</ul><ul><li>The women from TIME will eventually settle down with people who don’t have any facial hair. Both at the request of their future therapists, and to help fend off the nightmares we are creating. </li>
</ul><br />
***<br />
<br />
Until then,<br />
<br />
Be good, be safe, be healthy, and be in touch,<br />
<br />
Much Love,<br />
<br />
Connor Johnson and Nick Stang <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNw_b2nTOvI/AAAAAAAAAEU/43DDDRkmgwY/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNw_b2nTOvI/AAAAAAAAAEU/43DDDRkmgwY/s320/IMG_1416.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Men from TIME watching the sunrise from the top of Mt. Sinai </td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNw_rqKVFxI/AAAAAAAAAEY/sRn5Nnhm8VI/s1600/IMG_1417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNw_rqKVFxI/AAAAAAAAAEY/sRn5Nnhm8VI/s320/IMG_1417.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh fer cute</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-64239313589203699372010-11-07T14:44:00.000-08:002010-11-07T14:51:41.591-08:00Sahara Desert Adventure: Beginning of Moroccan Excursion<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Picture this: You are speeding along in a sturdy, dusty jeep down a thin stretch of Moroccan road. The sun is setting over your surrounding landscape, (which consists of dry flatlands dotted with an occasional shrubery, fossil shop or goat herd); giving everything around you a hazy golden glow. Suddenly, your jeep veers off the road and begins heading into the middle of this empty landscape. A large dust trail flumes up behind you, as with windows down your jeep flies towards an unknown destination following an unmarked path. As night falls and you are assuredly in the middle of nowhere, a camp suddenly appears in front of your headlights. Small dark burlap mounds turn out to be the carpeted tents you will be spending the evening in. The silhouettes of camels in the background can be dimly seen under the overwhelmingly clear blanket of stars appearing in the night sky. Yet the most striking thing about this landscape is the looming sahara sand dunes majestically standing in the background behind the tents; lit by a faint white shimmer gleaming from the rising moon. Believe it or not, this is a semblance of how our adventure in the desert began in Morocco.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNcmUAwjHmI/AAAAAAAAAEM/poadzKoSjSI/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNcmUAwjHmI/AAAAAAAAAEM/poadzKoSjSI/s320/Morocco+Card+1+626.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our desert tents at dusk</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNcm2BBIKpI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/4ah2RsCOKOQ/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNcm2BBIKpI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/4ah2RsCOKOQ/s320/Morocco+Card+1+633.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berber Musician at the fire pit</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">We arrived to our camp after our exhilarating drive through the desert. After settling in we mingled with the local berber musicians, and eventually ended up all laughing and dancing with them around a crackling bonfire. Then we were served yet another delicious Moroccan tangine meal in a grand, brightly colored tent with live drummers providing our background music. After dinner, all 16 of us daringly wandered into the massive sandunes our little camp bordered. What a great night it was climbing up and sliding down the dunes in the moonlight! We stayed out for hours, constantly in awe of our surroundings.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">We then retired to our tents, protected from the desert cold by thick wool blankets. We were awoken in the morning to the sounds of moaning camels about to take riders out to see the sunrise. Opting for a later morning camel ride, the majority of us set out on foot to the sand dunes at dawn to watch the sunrise. What a magnificient experience this was! Here are some pictures of this morning's view:</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNce0vxh7mI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cr9ffmAGs8k/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNce0vxh7mI/AAAAAAAAAD4/cr9ffmAGs8k/s320/Morocco+Card+1+682.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise over the Sahara</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNcfRycK8qI/AAAAAAAAAD8/qjGC7fUL63w/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNcfRycK8qI/AAAAAAAAAD8/qjGC7fUL63w/s320/Morocco+Card+1+680.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bundled up and perched atop the highest sand dune for the best view </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><div>After our morning spectacle, we returned to our camp for our very own camel caravan. Each of us had our own personal camel led by a berber guide. We spent an hour riding the camels total, exploring more of the sand dunes. Some of our group became especially good friends with their camels. Many had been given names by the end: some including Stockings, Cosmo and Fred. Since you initially mount a camel when it is laying down in the sand, the group found particular humor in the camels standing up with the rider on its back. Their loud groans and long stilty legs made for awkward beginnings as the camel rider is forced to grip the saddle as it swings them in all sorts of precarious angles. Besides this awkward process, the camel ride went very smoothly overall. There was only one runaway camel among our group (camels can in fact gallop we learned), but luckily his rider managed to tame him with much kicking and shrieking in the end. Here are some photos of this adventure:</div><div><br />
<br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNch2iA9o-I/AAAAAAAAAEA/N4uwfRx6xWs/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNch2iA9o-I/AAAAAAAAAEA/N4uwfRx6xWs/s320/Morocco+Card+1+763.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TIME2010 Camel Caravan!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNci38fiOlI/AAAAAAAAAEI/0r8s2GzeDxw/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNci38fiOlI/AAAAAAAAAEI/0r8s2GzeDxw/s320/Morocco+Card+1+766.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Connor facing off with his mount</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNciXyrI0PI/AAAAAAAAAEE/ZNsYN4HUKP0/s1600/Morocco+Card+1+742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNciXyrI0PI/AAAAAAAAAEE/ZNsYN4HUKP0/s320/Morocco+Card+1+742.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our fearless trip leaders forging the way ahead!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">This wonderful desert experience was just the beginning of our awesome Moroccan excursion. This first day and night however will forever remain a favorite memory among all of us. What a great adventure this trip continues to be! Cheers!</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">Kelsie Brust</div>Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-61700564343985088942010-11-04T14:41:00.000-07:002010-11-04T14:41:18.446-07:00A Day in the Life: Two Girls' Experience in a Moroccan Homestay"Sabah l kher!"<br />
It's another morning at Maison Didi, Kate and Bri's home away from home for the last month. We're called to breakfast by Meena, our <i>chef des cuisines</i>, who struggles as much with the pronunciation of our American names as we did with theirs. "Sabrina! Ket! F'dor!" (translate as "Bri! Kate! Breakfast!"). We enjoyed morning delicacies such as bright yellow sponge pancakes, french bread, jam, Laughing Cow cheese and the ubiquitous Moroccan mint tea. While some of our group endured the harsh pollution of Fezzi air when walking to school every morning, we preferred to sleep in and take a last-minute taxi, a ten-minute ride that cost less than one US dollar.<br />
Our classes at ALIF (American Language Institute in Fez) consisted of either a class in Dareeja, the Moroccan colloquial dialect of Arabic, or a sociology course entitled "Gender, Modernization and Social Change in Morocco," taught by the enthusiastic and passionate Fatima Amrani - you may recognize her from the wedding pictures. She happens to be the first female Moroccan English-language playwright, among many other accomplishments.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMIGDO5GsI/AAAAAAAAADc/ahqFfGDDyzI/s1600/Fatima.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMIGDO5GsI/AAAAAAAAADc/ahqFfGDDyzI/s320/Fatima.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Professor Amrani served mint tea after our final exam.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Pictured below is our classroom; the ornate walls are common in Moroccan architecture.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMa3AS9yVI/AAAAAAAAADg/KXs6AKrlQBE/s1600/Classroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMa3AS9yVI/AAAAAAAAADg/KXs6AKrlQBE/s320/Classroom.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>After a two-hour morning class, we joined our more energetic classmates for the 40-minute trek to our homes in the Fez medina. Arriving at our door, we were greeted by Meena's shout of "<i>SCHKOON</i>?" ("WHO?"). We were instructed to respond with "<i>KREB</i>!" but after using it for the entire month, we are still unsure of its meaning. During our 4-hour lunch break, we had time to relax, complete last-minute homework, and enjoy the midday meal - the most important meal of the day in Moroccan households. The various dishes, always served in gigantic communal bowls, included different types of tagine (a dish of stewed meats and vegetables or fruit), mystery meat skewers, and our favorite, couscous. Every meal was accompanied by stacks of <i>khobs</i> (homemade, round, dense bread). Our lunches were never complete without a desert of fruit. Bri loved the pomegranates and Kate loved the mandarins. Not long after lunch, we returned to ALIF for our afternoon class.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMjmZUfQEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/BNurWAilX0E/s1600/Medina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMjmZUfQEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/BNurWAilX0E/s320/Medina.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical street in the Medina</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
We spent free time after class in either Cafe Clock or the ALIF riad, a restored, traditional Moroccan house with a courtyard garden, situated in the Medina and available for ALIF students. Internet access at both locales allowed us to maintain relationships with friends and family at home and around the world via Skype and e-mail. We also watched movies, played a lot of euchre and made frequent trips to the nearby bakery. On days that we didn't have class, many of us spent happy hours getting lost in the labyrinth of the Medina, shopping and getting hassled by persistent salesmen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMiDAWgizI/AAAAAAAAADs/mRF-oeg6SEo/s1600/Riad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMiDAWgizI/AAAAAAAAADs/mRF-oeg6SEo/s320/Riad.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ALIF riad</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMiAfY1Y0I/AAAAAAAAADo/lnXf8SJwjZA/s1600/cafe+clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMiAfY1Y0I/AAAAAAAAADo/lnXf8SJwjZA/s320/cafe+clock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bri and Josef at Cafe Clock, drinking fruit smoothies and banana chocolate milkshakes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Around 9 pm, most of us were expected back at our host families' houses, so we would return to Maison Didi just in time for the last meal of the day, usually a smaller version of lunch. After dinner, the entire family curled up in the salon for what we found to be Morocco's favorite activity - watching TV. Soap operas from around the world (Hindi, Turkish, Mexican, etc.), all dubbed in Dareeja, were our family's preference. Meena would serve the last cup of mint tea to the family and the last two or three hours of the night were spent in quiet relaxation.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMjaa9G4XI/AAAAAAAAADw/GJq8KBsH7CU/s1600/TV+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TNMjaa9G4XI/AAAAAAAAADw/GJq8KBsH7CU/s320/TV+picture.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Satellite dishes on the roofs of the Medina, illustrating the cultural prominence of TV</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Between 11 and midnight, Kate and Bri would bid the family "<i>Bon nuit</i>!" ("Good night!" in French, the second most-spoken language in Morocco, after Dareeja) and after brushing our teeth in the very pink, Disney-princess decorated bathroom, would fall asleep to the sounds of the not-so-silent medina.<br />
<br />
B'slama until next time!<br />
Bri w Kate w TIME 2010Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-3008508293048721132010-10-25T15:37:00.000-07:002010-10-26T10:21:25.472-07:0027 CaftansThe Moroccan host-mothers dressed their American girl/dolls this past Friday. All of the best jewelry was brought out and matched with their corresponding caftans. Caftans are the traditional dress robes for Moroccan women at special celebrations-- such as the wedding several of us were about to attend! Now don't they look beautiful?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5AcJDNEI/AAAAAAAAABU/xVUgAVgPeFQ/s1600/IMG_4740.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5AcJDNEI/AAAAAAAAABU/xVUgAVgPeFQ/s320/IMG_4740.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>So you're probably wondering how we got an invitation to a Moroccan wedding. Well, the bride is simply our sociology professor's husband's sister-in-law's sister. (I think I got that right...) Unlike Owen and Vince, we didn't need a false pretense to show up. Moroccans love wedding crashers!<br />
<br />
Although the invitation said 9:00 p.m., we left for the wedding at 9:30. "<i>Arrive at 9:00</i> means <i>arrive at 12:00</i> to a Moroccan," Fatima informed us. Sure enough, we were some of the first guests to arrive. Our arrival was announced by the deep-chested singing of four women. For the first time during my stay in Morocco, the sound made me feel like I was in the idea of Africa that Hollywood (read: The Lion King) instilled in me. The four women resumed their chorus when each group arrived.<br />
<br />
Before the bride and groom arrived, the gifts arrived. Boxes strolled in (via the tops of men's heads) containing traditional gifts: perfumes, jewelry, money, teacups, and shoes.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5PsNsscI/AAAAAAAAABY/OykNQizWSzI/s1600/IMG_4747.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5PsNsscI/AAAAAAAAABY/OykNQizWSzI/s320/IMG_4747.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5d-sUfOI/AAAAAAAAABc/fw5r7jpmq58/s1600/IMG_4761.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5d-sUfOI/AAAAAAAAABc/fw5r7jpmq58/s320/IMG_4761.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Finally the bride and groom were brought in. Each sat in a big white carriage on the shoulders of six strong men. I say 'strong' because they had to hold the carriages for multiple dances, some of which were 45 minutes long! Professor Langerak pointed out that the dances conjured images of courtship rituals.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5qNBZiAI/AAAAAAAAABg/-i6QFZCJNW8/s1600/IMG_4791.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa5qNBZiAI/AAAAAAAAABg/-i6QFZCJNW8/s320/IMG_4791.jpg" width="251" /> </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa57XS21eI/AAAAAAAAABo/Gh-iQrbBgrA/s1600/IMG_4813.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa57XS21eI/AAAAAAAAABo/Gh-iQrbBgrA/s320/IMG_4813.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: left;">The exhausted bearers: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa6_I39uVI/AAAAAAAAACA/M5qSJ4Zcxvs/s1600/IMG_4905.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa6_I39uVI/AAAAAAAAACA/M5qSJ4Zcxvs/s320/IMG_4905.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div>The bride's mother encouraged us to dance along with the other guests. Kate stole the show with the Moroccan dance moves her host-mother makes her practice every day at breakfast. After a few hours of dancing I realized that the box of tissues on each table was in fact for sweat, not tears. (Mom, I'm sure <i>you</i> still would have managed to cry!)<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa72BaLwRI/AAAAAAAAACU/3adxnHn768g/s1600/IMG_4940.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa72BaLwRI/AAAAAAAAACU/3adxnHn768g/s320/IMG_4940.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Mint tea-- which the locals call Moroccan Whiskey-- and small snacks-- which the Minnesotans call treats or bars-- arrived at our table throughout the night.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa7fJCdQDI/AAAAAAAAACM/7S-NRuo4R6M/s1600/IMG_4912.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa7fJCdQDI/AAAAAAAAACM/7S-NRuo4R6M/s320/IMG_4912.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Two video cameras captured the whole event. We would appear on one of the room's six screens as the cameramen made their rounds throughout the room. We Americans couldn't help but smile and look at the camera, though the other guests sat completely still with serious frowns and distant stares. This footage, as Kate and Bri were <i>fortunate</i> enough to discover a few days earlier, is edited into an hours-long movie for Moroccans to show their guests.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa6j0XYCOI/AAAAAAAAAB4/1EsHNPtG7Tg/s1600/IMG_4874.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa6j0XYCOI/AAAAAAAAAB4/1EsHNPtG7Tg/s320/IMG_4874.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The live music and dancing continued until morning. We arrived home to a sunrise over the Medina. (Please note: Ed and Lois have always told us their bedtime is 9:00 p.m., but they were the two most lively at 7:00 a.m.!) We couldn't have left the wedding any earlier because we would have missed these amazing events:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa_JaC2o7I/AAAAAAAAADM/fIvqwOEcmO4/s1600/IMG_5019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa_JaC2o7I/AAAAAAAAADM/fIvqwOEcmO4/s320/IMG_5019.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The bride changed her whole outfit (caftan, jewelry, makeup and hairdo) <u><b>four</b></u> times. The groom changed as well, but all attention was on the bride. Each of the five outfits had its own carriage and ritualistic dance. Sister dearest, please don't get any ideas.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa7L7ExfII/AAAAAAAAACE/bYO7glpMOyw/s1600/IMG_4906.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa7L7ExfII/AAAAAAAAACE/bYO7glpMOyw/s320/IMG_4906.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa8J6HKicI/AAAAAAAAACY/P3SEVS3fINc/s1600/IMG_4945.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa8J6HKicI/AAAAAAAAACY/P3SEVS3fINc/s320/IMG_4945.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa-Jb3t9jI/AAAAAAAAAC4/4APpBLWrAt4/s1600/IMG_4981.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa-Jb3t9jI/AAAAAAAAAC4/4APpBLWrAt4/s320/IMG_4981.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa-XlCwpxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/pglyk2N7Ak0/s1600/IMG_4985.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa-XlCwpxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/pglyk2N7Ak0/s320/IMG_4985.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div>Kate noted that we never heard a public announcement (i.e. vows, toasts, introductions) throughout the whole night. The signing of the marriage papers is a separate event, so there may be words exchanged there.<br />
<br />
The bride receiving henna on the marriage throne.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa968-sUjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/YE7R8ok3Ek0/s1600/IMG_4974.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa968-sUjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/YE7R8ok3Ek0/s320/IMG_4974.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>The bride being unveiled. Her dress was then pinned into the carriage for another dance.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa-mn0K3UI/AAAAAAAAADA/I-V4igJWn5A/s1600/IMG_4991.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa-mn0K3UI/AAAAAAAAADA/I-V4igJWn5A/s320/IMG_4991.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa--Aj7x2I/AAAAAAAAADI/6DnqvD4Kas0/s1600/IMG_5017.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa--Aj7x2I/AAAAAAAAADI/6DnqvD4Kas0/s320/IMG_5017.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div>The bride and groom cutting the cake. Does this look familiar?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa_shGPTGI/AAAAAAAAADY/G7NX6VUVeiI/s1600/IMG_5039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TMa_shGPTGI/AAAAAAAAADY/G7NX6VUVeiI/s320/IMG_5039.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Overall we give the wedding an A+++. For those of you wondering where the other half of the group was, ask for a blog post on their weekend in Spain!<br />
<br />
Bslama!<br />
Josef Lorentz and TIME 2010Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-67612398027489891152010-10-08T03:03:00.000-07:002010-10-08T03:04:52.180-07:00Made it to Morocco!Greetings from Fez!<br />
<br />
First of all, apologies for letting so much time pass between posts; we've all been extremely busy since the end of our Turkish excursion. The last half of our Turkish excursion was very satisfying. After leaving the dreadful Batihan Beach Resort, we visited the ruins at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ephesus">Ephesus</a>, probably the most impressive set of ruins in Turkey. Much of the site has been restored over the years. Here's a picture of our group in front of the restored Library of Celsus in Ephesus.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Group at the Library of Celsus in Ephesus</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TK7oJwQqjtI/AAAAAAAAABI/QVATFjCRcso/s1600/Group+at+Ephesus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TK7oJwQqjtI/AAAAAAAAABI/QVATFjCRcso/s400/Group+at+Ephesus.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
From Ephesus, we traveled on to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Konya">Konya</a>, an important city for the mystic sect of Islam, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sufism">Sufism</a>. Konya is the site of the tomb of the famous Sufi poet, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rumi">Rumi</a>, which is one of, if not the most important sites for Sufis to visit.<br />
<br />
We spent the night in Konya, and once we were rested up, we traveled to the region of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cappadocia">Cappadocia</a>, famous for it's bizzarre, surreal landscape. Cappadocia, located in east central Turkey, is a pretty incredible place. Cappadocia's distinctive landscape is the product of volcanic ash deposited by ancient, now dormant volcanoes. Over the centuries, wind, rain, and rivers have sculpted the rock into a variety of surreal forms, including the famous "fairy chimneys. "Distinctive" is probably too light of an adjective to describe this place. I don't think any of us have ever seen any naturally formed scenery that comes even close to this place. My descriptions and even my pictures cannot do it justice. It's like a hopped up version of the Badlands, literally the Badlands on psychedelic drugs. Exploring Cappadocia was probably the highlight of excursion for the majority of the group. Here's a couple of photos to give you just the palest sense of this place:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Goreme: City in the Rocks</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QO-d9qxVihg/TJ-E-6TLmwI/AAAAAAAAACU/1-wnmMGG30c/s1600/Cappadocia+1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QO-d9qxVihg/TJ-E-6TLmwI/AAAAAAAAACU/1-wnmMGG30c/s400/Cappadocia+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Ash Rock Spires</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QO-d9qxVihg/TJ-GOHWW9ZI/AAAAAAAAACY/YyjuWDk4uzA/s1600/Cappadocia+4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QO-d9qxVihg/TJ-GOHWW9ZI/AAAAAAAAACY/YyjuWDk4uzA/s400/Cappadocia+4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Some of our group and our excursion guide, Aida, in the Underground City</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QO-d9qxVihg/TJ-OU2nC7lI/AAAAAAAAACs/lJy9qVj445w/s1600/Underground+city+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QO-d9qxVihg/TJ-OU2nC7lI/AAAAAAAAACs/lJy9qVj445w/s400/Underground+city+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
From Cappadocia, we had a long bus drive to Ankara, the capital of Turkey. In Ankara, we visited the massive mausoleum of Ataturk, the first president of Turkey. We also visited the Anatolian Archeological Museum, which was apparently voted the best museum in Europe in 2006 (surprising, since Ankara is located in Asia, not Europe). Regardless of the status of its dubious awards, the museum was still quite fascinating. It probably had the most impressive collection of ancient artifacts of any of the museums we've seen so far, maybe with the exception of the Archeological museum in Istanbul. Professor Langerak was particularly enthralled by the museum's exhibits; the museum staff had to kick him out at closing time.<br />
<br />
After spending the night in Ankara, we set off on the final leg of our bus travels, bound for Istanbul. We made it back to Istanbul in the early evening. Our flight for Morocco departed at 6am on Wednesday, so our last night in Istanbul was dedicated to hasty re-packing and light sleep. Even though our flight time to Morocco wasn't nearly as bad as our first set of flights from the U.S. to Turkey, Wednesday ended up being an extremely long day. Ultimately, I think our travels to Morocco deprived us of just as much sleep as our travels to Turkey. Nonetheless, we were able to rest up well on Wednesday night.<br />
<br />
On Thursday the 1st of October, we toured the Arabic Language Institute in Fez where we will be taking all of our Arabic and Sociology courses during the next three weeks. ALIF is beautiful; the courtyard has a wonderful garden and many of the classrooms are decorated with intricate mosaics and plaster-works. After our ALIF orientation, we set off on a tour of the Medina, the ancient walled city of Fez, with our guide Ali. The Medina is extremely confusing, a bewildering network of narrow, twisting streets, innumerable turns and side alleys. Ali gave us some particularly apropos advice in regards to navigating the Medina; "To learn, you must lose your reason. To learn, you must lose yourself". I wouldn't be surprised if Ali had dabbled in philosophy at some point in his past. <br />
<br />
In addition to Ali's wise words, highlights of our Medina tour included a visit to an old-school textile shop and a tour of the Dar Dbagh Chouara Tannery, which was featured on the Discovery Channel's "Dirty Jobs" and on ABC's "The Amazing Race". According to Mike Rowe of "Dirty Jobs", working in the tannery is supposed to be the third hardest job in the world. We were able to survey the tannery from a terrace high above the tannery vats, and even from that elevated vantage point, the smell was nearly overpowering. If they can bear the stench, I'm sure many of the girls on the trip will venture back to the tannery to haggle for some high-quality leather bags. <br />
<br />
Last Friday morning, we had our first Arabic class. We are learning the Moroccan dialect of Arabic, known as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moroccan_Arabic">Darija</a>, which actually means "dialect" in Arabic. After a lecture in the evening, we met our host families for the first time. I'm sure many of you already know, but for those of you who are out of the loop, all of us will be living with host families for the duration of our stay in Fez. All of us elected to stay in the Medina; living in this baffling labyrinth is sure to be an unparalleled experience.<br />
<br />
After a week, all of us are still alive and kicking, surviving our home stays and our classes in style. Fez is far different from Istanbul and Turkey. This place certainly has a greater degree of character, manifested most obviously in the strange sights and smells of the Medina, which can be nearly overpowering at times. I hope we can embrace Ali's advice; Fez and Morocco will be a place that challenges us to 'lose our reason', to get out of our comfort zone in order to learn something new. I'm sure it's gonna be a fun and wild ride!<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Luke P<br />
<br />
P.S. I'll try to post some pictures of Fez within the next couple of days, mainly in order to give all of you a feel for the insanity of the Medina. Stay tuned!Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-74783082141557259202010-09-22T12:48:00.000-07:002010-09-22T12:49:57.037-07:00Turkish Excursion!<span id="goog_658951224"></span><span id="goog_658951225"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>Greetings from Kuşadasi, on the shores of the Aegean Sea!<br />
<br />
We've just finished the fourth day of our Turkish excursion, but it certainly feels as if we've been on the road for much longer. Spending hour after hour on a cramped, knee-crushing tour bus will tend to stretch out your sense of time. Apart from the hassles of large-group transportation, so far, the trip has been amazing, full of new experiences and moderately sketchy adventures (e.g. swimming in the Aegean Sea at night, hiking through ancient ruins, maybe wandering out of bounds and getting whistled at by a security guard, etc.). Many of us were sad to leave Istanbul, which proved to be a fascinating, exciting city to experience and explore. <br />
<br />
On Sunday, our first day of excursion, we spent over 7 hours on the bus in transit from Istanbul to our various tour sites and to our final destination in the fishing village of Assos where we spent Sunday night. First, we visited the battlefields and graveyards of Galipoli on the shores of the Dardanelles. Galipoli was beautiful, somber, and surprisingly intense. From Galipoli, we traveled for several hours to the alleged site of the ancient city of Troy, the famous city of Homer's <i>Iliad</i>. To be honest, Troy was a bit underwhelming. The remaining structures are in poor shape despite ongoing excavation efforts. All of it seemed a bit dingy: we expected something epic, but unfortunately, the real Troy failed to live up to the epic expectations set by the <i>Iliad.</i><br />
<br />
After our first day of excursion, we bunked down in the town of Assos, a charming, peaceful fishing village on the shores of the Aegean. Aristotle lived in Assos for a number of years circa 350 BC, and he even established an academy there. St. Paul also visited Assos on his third missionary expedition through Asia Minor between 53-57 AD. Thanks to Professor Langerak for all of the historical background relayed in this post (even though we don't have any class during excursion, we're still managing to learn a bit)! The entire group took a late night swim in Assos, which was a wonderful experience for us. Hopefully we didn't encroach to much upon the peace and quiet of our fellow guests...<br />
<br />
Many of us were sad to leave Assos. Our current accommodations at the Batihan Beach Resort in Kuşadasi are far from charming. In fact, it might be safe to say that the Batihan is the complete antithesis to charm, peace, and quiet. This place is like a cheap, trashy, dingy, Mexican-esque, Miami Beach rip-off for vacationing Europeans. So far, we haven't been able to find a single non-fluorescent light in the hotel; the whole place is bathed in a sickly light. This place is like the J.C. Penny's of hotels; everyone seems desperate and there's way too much going on. It would make a perfect setting for a creepy murder mystery novel or a grade B horror/slasher flick. In short, the place gives all of us the "heebie-jeebies". We are all sick and tired of eating at the greasy, gluttonous buffet, getting stuck in the elevators with scantily clad grandparents, walking across the thin beach littered with more cigarette butts than sand, and listening to the incessant, Euro-trash techno house music, which blares from the poolside speakers long into the night. Needless to say, we are all excited to move out of here. <br />
<br />
In spite of the shadiness of our current hotel, our tours over the last three days have been excellent. On Monday, we visited <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pergamon">Pergamon</a>, an ancient Greek city located 16 miles (26 km) from the Aegean Sea on a promontory overlooking the north side of the river Caicus modern day Bakircay. Pergamon was very cool. Check out this picture of our group gathered at the acropolis of Pergamon!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpRlczsFBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6ve8XGyj7I8/s1600/Group+at+Pergamon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpRlczsFBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6ve8XGyj7I8/s400/Group+at+Pergamon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> <br />
After Pergamon, we traveled a short distance to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asclepion">Asclepion</a>, an ancient medical center where patients received basic psychosomatic treatments. The "doctors"/faith healers of the Asclepion employed a variety of psychological techniques including whispering subliminal messages and interpreting the dreams of their patients. The success rate of the Asclepion was said to be very high, but Professor Langerak pointed out that the center would only accept patients that had a good chance of being cured. Here's a picture of the main grounds of the Asclepion!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpU4X7D4YI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MmTpD9hKYeI/s1600/Main+grounds+of+the+Asclepion.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpU4X7D4YI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MmTpD9hKYeI/s400/Main+grounds+of+the+Asclepion.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Yesterday (Tuesday), we visited three different sites including Priene, Miletus, and Didyma. Alexander the Great lived in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priene">Priene</a> for a number of years. The city is built on steep slopes that used to overlook the Aegean Sea before the sea receded to its current shores.<br />
<br />
After Priene, we traveled across the valley of the Maeander River to <span id="goog_658951221"></span><span id="goog_658951222"></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miletus">Miletus</a>, an ancient port city that used to be one of the wealthiest cities in the entire Greek empire before the Persian invasion. Miletus was also the home city of some of the first Greek philosophers including Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximinies. Here are some pictures of the stadium at Miletus, which used to host plays and gladiator games!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Group in the Miletus Stadium </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpZ2WWk0vI/AAAAAAAAAA0/PEISxTEUE9M/s1600/Group+at+Miletus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpZ2WWk0vI/AAAAAAAAAA0/PEISxTEUE9M/s400/Group+at+Miletus.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Miletus Stadium</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpaaCqcJYI/AAAAAAAAAA8/quJa_u9MgTc/s1600/On+top+of+the+Miletus+theater.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpaaCqcJYI/AAAAAAAAAA8/quJa_u9MgTc/s400/On+top+of+the+Miletus+theater.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
For the last leg of our Tuesday tours, we visited <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Didyma">Didyma</a>, home to an incredible temple to the Greek sun god, Apollo. We'll let the pictures speak for themselves; the place was unbelievably preserved and insanely huge. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Front steps of the Temple to Apollo </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpX-3Ip9jI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZurWe5kBSvw/s1600/Front+Steps+of+Didyma+Apollo+Temple.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpX-3Ip9jI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZurWe5kBSvw/s400/Front+Steps+of+Didyma+Apollo+Temple.JPG" width="400" /></a> </div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Inside the Temple to Apollo</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpYwDvdGGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/MuVhflEycks/s1600/Inside+the+Temple.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/TJpYwDvdGGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/MuVhflEycks/s400/Inside+the+Temple.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
But, our adventure today might prove to be one of the best highlights of our entire semester, or at least of our time in Turkey. We spent the day cruising the Aegean Sea on a private yacht, taking long swims in pure blue water, leaping into the water from 25+ feet up on the top of our ship, snorkeling, lounging under the sun on the top deck, sprawled out over piles of soft pillows. In a word, today was sublime. Some of us may have swallowed too much saltwater, and some of us might have failed to apply enough sunscreen, but apart from some sore stomachs and burnt shoulders, today was pretty close to perfect.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow morning, we leave the awful Batihan Resort for another long day of touring to Ephesus, Pamukkale, and Aphrodisias. We'll spend tomorrow night in Konya followed by two nights (Friday and Saturday) in Cappadocia. Excursion has been most excellent so far, and even the hangups and annoyances of long bus rides and seedy hotels will eventually morph into hilarious stories; if we can escape Batihan without getting axe-murdered by a Euro-trash serial killer sporting a mullet and a Speedo, it'll be pretty easy to look back and laugh about our brief stay in beach resort Hell.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Luke POlaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-29561095301734990272010-09-11T08:31:00.000-07:002010-09-11T08:31:01.120-07:00A Day in the LifeAlarm goes off at 7:45 a.m. I check Gmail and Facebook on my laptop, and often times I get a quick chat in with some Oles who are still up doing homework. It's a new day here, however, so I have to get ready for school.<br />
<br />
I take a shower that's either too hot or too cold. (Sorry-- I don't mean to sound like Goldie Locks.) As I get dressed, I hear the daily metronome of "IYI... IYI... IYI..." (eee-yuh). It's a man walking down the street selling a Turkish favorite called simit-- a circular piece of bread with sesame seeds on it-- from a tray balanced on top of his head. "Iyi" means "fine" in Turkish. I look out my window and see two Turkish flags blowing above a statue. I can guess who it depicts; nine times out of ten the statues here are of Ataturk, the founder and first president of the Republic of Turkey.<br />
<br />
We set off for school in groups. On the way out we apologize to the Superdorm desk workers for our noise. "Affedersiniz, Amerikaliyim!" ("Sorry, I'm American!") The walk takes about 25 minutes. The first half of the walk is through our neighborhood (called Ucaksavar). We pass by various vendors, some bakeries, cafes, and a bunch of dogs. At some point Stumpy, a dog with a big Yellow Lab body but very short legs, meets up with us and walks us to class with his big curl of a tail in the air and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. We're amazed he hasn't been hit by a car yet; we ourselves are in constant fear of being run over by the crazy taxi drivers or constantly-honking Turks.<br />
<br />
We enter the gates of Bogazaci University, and walk down a long hill. The view is surreal. We see the Bosphorous, with a few boats cruising along. It has a very beautiful ("cok guzel!") mix of buildings and trees lining the coasts on each side.<br />
<br />
Every ten paces or so we pass a cat, who have each become familiar (whiskered) faces. We take some winding paths through the dense thick of trees to arrive at the Ataturk Building, where our classes are held. Like our President Washington, Ataturk is a popular name for streets, buildings, etc. Our favorite cats meow at us from the benches they're lounging on, and a striped grey one named Alex tries his best to sneak into the classroom with us.<br />
<br />
We've had class with four different professors so far. The wisest and wittiest, of course, is Professor Ed Langerak from St. Olaf. In his class we discuss religious toleration and individual freedom. We've started reading the Qur'an, which I'm ashamed I haven't read before, and a book by Reza Aslan called "No god but God", which I highly recommend to anyone interested in learning more about Islam. Our Bogazaci professors so far have been Professors Sevket Pamuk, Binnaz, and her husband Zafer. All three are brilliant scholars. The handsome Pamuk, whose brother won a literary Nobel Prize, taught us some broad Middle Eastern geography and history. Binnaz is our expert on women's rights and secularism in Turkey. She also gave us the kooky Turkish language lessons. She's a controversial, liberal debater here in Turkey-- we realized her fame when a cab driver recognized the name on our way to her house. Zafer gave us a <u>very</u> detailed history of the Ottoman Empire. Turkish professors have a different pedagogy from most of our Olaf ones. It's usually a constant stream of information, with little or no discussion, and us trying our hardest to keep our eyes open. (Past TIMErs, you forgot to mention to us that we have class from nine to four every day!)<br />
<br />
We grab lunch at the canteen and eat outside on a shady bench. The view, again, is a spectacular panoramic of the Bosphorous. Cats come by and pester us for food; we reward only the cutest or friendliest. Around one o'clock we hear the harmony of call to prayers echoing across the water from all the mosques along the coast. "Is this real life?" echoes across our bench.<br />
<br />
After classes we might sit at a cafe and try to get some reading done. (Socializing inevitably trumps studying.) We are pretty good at becoming friends with our waiters and waitresses, and often times the restaurant owners as well! (We're rewarded with free tea, or cay.) To a certain extent we rely on our hands and their broken English, but our small knowledge of Turkish has been crucial in showing them that we're trying hard to communicate.<br />
<br />
"So where should we go tonight?" We rarely spend a night in the Superdorm. It's off to Taksim, the party district, for some Efes and hookah, live music and meeting locals. Or the Old City for some bazaar shopping. We've also enjoyed various museums, from Turkish modern art to Ottoman archeology. Dinners are a highlight of the night, as we often have to order a Turkish dish having no idea what it could be. Usually it's a good surprise!<br />
<br />
We get back to the Superdorm and squeeze in some necessary homework time. We've had four tests in the past two weeks! We're lucky to get in bed by 2 a.m. The city sounds of dogs barking, cars honking, and wind blowing are no match for my heavy eyelids.<br />
<br />
Siz seviyoruz! (We love you all!)<br />
-Josef Lorentz and TIME 2010Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-72311230928998128022010-09-04T15:57:00.000-07:002010-09-04T15:57:37.850-07:00Switchin Perspectives<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Hello, all!</div><div class="MsoNormal">What this blog really needs (perhaps in addition to a few more posts) is a woman's touch, so I thought I'd swoop in to save the day with a new post. On Thursday our group took the bus (hooray! we're officially public transportation savvy!) to Dolmabache Palace, or "Istanbul's Versailles". It was absolutely stunning. Well, the outside of it was. The Palace ended up being closed, so we posed for a couple pics, tightened up our Teva straps and set out on the thirty minute walk to Istanbul Modern, a contemporary art museum. The museum was an impressive collection of mediums ranging from sculpture to photography to costume collection. And the air conditioning felt great. After the museum we crossed over the Galata Bridge and made our way to the Spice Bazaar, a bustling market where shopkeepers offered us sample after sample of Turkish Delight. Despite the daunting crowds at the market, we managed to lose just one person, and this was only because she was temporarily distracted by spotting an old high school boyfriend of hers wandering through a nearby stall. But these things happen, and we managed to reconnect later in the evening. So while Nandini was busy re-creating the iconic scene between Carrie and Aidan from this summer's Sex and The City 2, a few of us others set out in search of dinner, settling for a little place on the Galata Bridge where we spent the meal shouting over the crashing waves and squinting against the brilliant sunset reflecting in the Golden Horn (Note: Life is rough. Plz send care packages). The night soon drew to a close, and we hurried on home to the Superdorm, eager to tuck into our hefty stack of reading for Friday's political science exam. Our academic studies are going well, our experiential exercises are even better, and we hope all is well with you. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Until next time,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sarah</div><!--EndFragment-->Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-48967390254366534022010-08-30T20:09:00.000-07:002010-08-30T20:18:17.483-07:00Merhaba Istanbuldan!Hello from Istanbul! Here's a picture of our group gathered near the Hagia Sophia, the original cathedral of Emperor Constantinople. Hagia Sophia was the largest mosque in the world for over a thousand years!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/THxwMg1XRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dz-Zzr68s1c/s1600/DSC_0356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="335" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tvxeWWxkCT0/THxwMg1XRoI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dz-Zzr68s1c/s400/DSC_0356.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The group is in good spirits as we continue to settle into our new surroundings and accommodations. We spent Sunday evening exploring Taksim square, one of the most popular areas in Istanbul for tourists and Turks alike. We've had our crash course in the Turkish language, which has been a hilarious experience with all of the midwestern mispronunciation and other humorous confusions that are a part of learning a new language. We have our Turkish exam this afternoon after the first meeting of our political science class. Wish us all luck!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Time to get back to studying! Allahaismarladik (God stay with you)! </div>Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-50684173565100519472010-08-27T11:20:00.000-07:002010-08-27T21:21:41.041-07:00Made it to Constantinople<span style="font-size: large;">We made it! The whole group is safe and sound in Istanbul, arriving without any problems beyond the discomfort and stress of overseas air travel. We are checked in at the Superdorm on the residential campus of </span><span style="font-size: large;">Boğaziçi University, which will be our home until we venture off on our Turkish excursion beginning on September 19th. We are in for a busy time in Istanbul. Tomorrow, August 28th, we have a full day tour of the city, which is sure to be fascinating.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Just wanted to let everyone at home know that we all arrived safely. Hopefully we can all banish the last remnants of jet lag with a good night's sleep. We'll make sure to post another update as soon as our energy stores are back to full charge!</span>Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-67970484000122675062010-08-25T14:49:00.000-07:002010-08-25T14:49:15.833-07:00Last Day in the U.S. of AHere we go. Last night at home, finishing up with all of our last minute preparations, checking off the final items from our packing lists, making sure all of our business is in order. Tomorrow, we embark on a four month adventure, an adventure we cannot honestly comprehend until we find ourselves in the midst of it. Right now, I'm sure all of us are full of excitement as well as a fair share of nervous anticipation. I for one am beyond excited to go, but also quite anxious to leave home.<br />
<br />
The first legs of international travel (i.e. overnight, cross-Atlantic flights) can be bizarre, jarring experiences Tonight, we'll sleep in our own beds. In a few days time, we'll be getting out of bed in Istanbul, over 5,000 miles from St. Olaf, from our homes, our family and our friends.<br />
<br />
It'll take awhile to get into the rhythm of the trip, but I know we'll find our rhythm as a group easily once we overcome jet lag and travel fatigue, once we get rested up and settled into our new accommodations. <br />
<br />
Unbelievable that our date of departure is finally here. All of you in the group, sleep well, get your rest; we have a lot of travel time ahead of us. Family and friends, wish us luck, keep us in your thoughts, and stay tuned for a post upon our arrival.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
Luke POlaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-36237932450947384772010-08-23T19:18:00.000-07:002010-08-23T19:18:33.313-07:00Corrected Schedule LinksPretty sure the links to our monthly schedules will not work for many, if any of you. You should be able to access the Google Doc version of the schedules, but you will need to sign into, or create a Google account to view our monthly schedules. If you are unable to access the new links, please let me know by posting a comment on the blog. Thanks and good luck!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.1&thid=12a9114e1c26b421&mt=application/msword&url=https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?ui%3D2%26ik%3D29b4bca41e%26view%3Datt%26th%3D12a9114e1c26b421%26attid%3D0.1%26disp%3Dattd%26realattid%3Df_gd3f864u0%26zw&sig=AHIEtbQRUze7zI9-RLslETJLTNksi7dm3Q">August</a><br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.2&thid=12a9114e1c26b421&mt=application/msword&url=https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?ui%3D2%26ik%3D29b4bca41e%26view%3Datt%26th%3D12a9114e1c26b421%26attid%3D0.2%26disp%3Dattd%26realattid%3Df_gd3f8h271%26zw&sig=AHIEtbQvCLcekxuuhUwUsHhWTzcn3J_VjQ">September</a><br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.3&thid=12a9114e1c26b421&mt=application/msword&url=https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?ui%3D2%26ik%3D29b4bca41e%26view%3Datt%26th%3D12a9114e1c26b421%26attid%3D0.3%26disp%3Dattd%26realattid%3Df_gd3f8u0x2%26zw&sig=AHIEtbRqxAZa7DmppvaWWP7KgVsFUfhmRw">October</a><br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.4&thid=12a9114e1c26b421&mt=application/msword&url=https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?ui%3D2%26ik%3D29b4bca41e%26view%3Datt%26th%3D12a9114e1c26b421%26attid%3D0.4%26disp%3Dattd%26realattid%3Df_gd3f95lo3%26zw&sig=AHIEtbQ8BrYUs4uVjlILhRMV2dfBQfB9-w">November</a><br />
<a href="https://docs.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/viewer?a=v&pid=gmail&attid=0.5&thid=12a9114e1c26b421&mt=application/msword&url=https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?ui%3D2%26ik%3D29b4bca41e%26view%3Datt%26th%3D12a9114e1c26b421%26attid%3D0.5%26disp%3Dattd%26realattid%3Df_gd3f9gr74%26zw&sig=AHIEtbQgaMEc9OOYCRyRZJ2BIdrL-Rxszg">December</a><br />
<br />
Again, please let me know if you are able to access the new links.Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-50848094885066566532010-08-22T16:25:00.000-07:002010-08-22T16:25:10.486-07:00Monthly Trip SchedulesBelow, I've posted links for anyone interested in downloading our monthly schedules for the trip; looks to be an amazing, busy lineup of class and activities!<br />
<br />
Links to Monthly Schedules (click to download):<br />
<a href="https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?view=att&th=12a9114e1c26b421&attid=0.2&disp=attd&realattid=f_gd3f8h271&zw">August</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?view=att&th=12a9114e1c26b421&attid=0.2&disp=attd&realattid=f_gd3f8h271&zw">September</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?view=att&th=12a9114e1c26b421&attid=0.3&disp=attd&realattid=f_gd3f8u0x2&zw">October</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?view=att&th=12a9114e1c26b421&attid=0.4&disp=attd&realattid=f_gd3f95lo3&zw">November</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://mail.google.com/a/stolaf.edu/?view=att&th=12a9114e1c26b421&attid=0.5&disp=attd&realattid=f_gd3f9gr74&zw">December</a>Olaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-607927820036789558.post-34238390562847176132010-08-12T15:11:00.001-07:002010-08-13T13:44:23.179-07:00Two Weeks Till DepartureWhat's up everybody. Just thought it would be a good time to get rolling on the group blog for our TIME-2010 trip. This blog will be managed through my account, but I am more than willing to give access to other group members interested in contributing to the blog. <br />
<br />
The date of our departure approaches and our anticipation seems to be rising exponentially, mounting higher and higher with each day counted down and checked off the calendar. After what was hopefully an exciting, fulfilling summer for each member of our group, we prepare to launch off into a new adventure, which is sure to be far more exciting than the casual fun of the summer months.<br />
<br />
For the next 14 days, we'll be swamped with packing arrangements, running errands to get necessary supplies, final goodbyes to friends, family and significant others, informing our St. Olaf proxies, ironing out all of the mundane details from the spread of travel prep. But soon enough, the tedium of practical, mundane preparation will fall away to make room for the complete excitement of new adventure.<br />
<br />
I'll make sure to send out the URL for the blog to all TIME members. Feel free to pass the word along to friends and family.<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
Luke POlaf TIME 2010http://www.blogger.com/profile/07045479794998616463noreply@blogger.com1