In a few days, the campus of Al Akhawayn will be a flurry of activity from sun up to sun down. Students from all across Africa, Europe and the U.S. will flock to and fro across campus, filling the silence with multilingual chatter and cell phone rings.

For now, the campus is quiet. There are workers touching up the paint on some of the buildings, administrators in suits walking around and, a slowly increasing volume of foreign students hauling luggage to their new dorms. Still, the place feels dead; those of us who have been here for the past few days are impatient for the regular routine to get going.

I am now friends with four other exchange students: Kelsey, who is a political science major / Middle Eastern Studies major at University of Texas, San Antonio; Camille, a student from Paris who wants to study English and Arabic (she thinks her English is poor but it is actually very good); Sarah, a ridiculously good looking student from Tennessee who studies polysci at Boston College; and John, a chatty young convert from Baptism to Islam (also a political science major.)  Earlier John was talking about how Islam is really a religion of peace at core. I have been advised to keep my bleak view on religion to myself while in Morocco, and so I did.

As you can see, we American creative writing / philosophy double majors studying in Morocco are in short supply.

With another day to kill, the five of us wandered about Ifrane again. (By the way, as the town was named by French imperialists it is pronounced “eeee-fran,” the a being pronounced like the a in “father.”) We had tea at a different place which was not quite as good as yesterday’s, but still quite tasty. John parted company with us for a few minutes to attend the afternoon prayer at the mosque and the rest of us scouted out food. Not far from the mosque was a crowed sandwich shop, so we got shwarma sandwiches there. I’m not sure exactly what kind of meat I was eating, but it tasted pretty good. I remind myself periodically that I’m taking Cipro, which should allay some of the effects of growing accustomed to local food.

The five of us discussed what we had learned in Arabic, especially the differences in pronunciation. Was the “Ghrain” letter pronounced more like a swallowed g or a harsh r? So much of Arabic depends on the regional dialects it’s hard to settle such disputes.

Tonight we will get together to compare notes and study for the entrance exam on Monday. Wish us luck.