I had no idea the horn of Gondor was a real thing! #learningshit (at Pergamonmuseum)
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I had no idea the horn of Gondor was a real thing! #learningshit (at Pergamonmuseum)

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(via The poet of Baalbek translated from the Arabic story of Khalil Gibran)
edit: Baalbek is Heliopolis; Balbec is Proust’s town
-"If flowers can grow after they've been stepped on, then so can I." #growingthroughlife #constantly changing #learningshit #strongerthaniwasbefore #steppedontoomanytimes
Fes and Food
Or as I like to call it, a day of eating. Or rather, 2 or 3 or 115 days of eating. I'm going to need to buy a second seat on the airplane home.
We arrived in Fes in the evening yesterday and stayed the night at the most beautiful maison d'hôte - a former private home that has been converted to a hotel, as my home-stay father told me tonight. The walls, the windows, the mosaic on the ground, everything was just so beautiful and detailed. Hand-carved too, probably, which I can imagine was no easy feat.
So, dinner last night started with an array of delicious tapas - caramelized onions with golden raisins, wonderfully spiced carrots, lentils, olives, other unidentifiable but scrumptious things. I overloaded my plate with tapas and wondered how I was ever possibly going to eat the next course of chicken with prunes and apricots, a dessert of fresh fruit, and of course, the obligatory mint tea. Well, it's a good thing I stuffed myself on tapas - the aforementioned chicken was sprinkled copiously with almonds. Despite the assurances from the staff that I "could just eat around them!" I decided to opt out of that particular ER visit. All the same, a great dinner.
Today, we began our day after a restless night in a stifling hot hotel room. Somehow, my roommates Jessica and Francie and I ended up with the smallest room and the only one with no windows! I just need to get used to permanent stickiness and sweat. (As of this writing, I have just hopped out of an ice cold shower and am already beginning to sweat).Â
Anyway, after a breakfast of Moroccan flatbreads (ahem ROSANNA), frittata (ahem ROSANNA), coffee, and fresh-squeezed orange juice, we headed over to the IES center here in Fes for our first colloquial Moroccan Arabic class. Any Arabic I took freshman year has completely disappeared from my brain. Oh well, the language is so different here, what I learned in that class probably wouldn't do me that much good.
Class was followed by a 4-course lunch (yes, you read that right, a 4-course lunch):
- Tapas: lentils, cucumber, carrots, bread
- Moroccan soup with chickpeas, rice, lentils, and spiced in a way I can't even describe
(I would just like to note that, in this point of the meal, I was already full)
- Chicken with lemon and olives (YUM)
- Melon
And that was lunch. Now you know why I'll be needing to buy a second seat for my extra girth on the way home.
(apologies for the lack of pictures, they'll be coming later. I don't have a cord to connect my camera to my computer and am waiting to borrow one from a group member).