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Last night I had this wonderful experience that I just had to write about.
It was over 100 degrees even after the sun had gone down, and I went to bed around 1am, but sleep was impossible. Around 1:30, I stripped down and lay on the marble floor, thinking maybe it would be cooler there and I would finally be able to get some sleep. After an hour with no success, I climbed back into my bed, defeated. Seconds later, my phone rang. It was Charlie! I was ecstatic to talk to him, and we had a great [and expensive] conversation. Finally, nearly two hours later, we got off the phone and I was laying in bed, willing sleep to come. It was hot, sticky, and dead silent. Then, suddenly, at 4:45, the call to prayer began. Five times a day, the mosques in Muslim countries broadcast a call to prayer [half song, half poem- all beautiful] over loudspeakers that can be heard all over the city. I’m used to hearing them over the chaotic sounds of the city, and they seem so appropriate blending in with the cacophony of Meknes. Sometimes it astonishes me how normal we all think it is, because if something like that were to happen in America, people would be offended and appalled and shocked and a medley of other less-than-desirable feelings. But last night…everything was still and calm, and slowly out of the darkness came this floating, wailing call to prayer. Seconds later, two other mosques began their call to prayer. Then a few more came seeping in through the night. Eventually, there were about a dozen calls filling the night air, all bittersweet and sad and tumultuous, all different, but all blending together in this beautiful melody. I laid as still as possible, wishing it would never stop. I think it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I wish you all could have heard it. I’ve never been so awestruck by something in my life. So even though I was cursing my lack of sleep this morning in class, I’m so grateful I was awake to hear it.
Before all that, I went to the medina with Lauren, Ben, and Imad for a local concert series. It was fun; Imad spent most of the night teaching us bad words in Arabic, which is always entertaining. After that, we wandered over to McDonalds for a midnight Daim McFlurry, where we met a bunch of Imad’s friends and BS-ed for a few hours. We finally made it home around 1am. It was all good fun, and I learned my new favorite word- layahum. It means whatever, and therefore I will be using it a lot.
That’s it for now- it’s time to post some entries since I just hacked onto the network! Thank you Emtil, whoever you are!

Salaam wa hubb,
-Danielle