Also Day 11 in Ouarzazate

     Yes, that's right, two entries in the same day. Remember, the last one was really a type-up of a previous entry. I'm sorry to tell you after the sunny outlook of the last post, but this one is about failure. It's inevitable when trying to learn a foreign language.

    But first, before we move on to such a discouraging topic, a few random treats:

1.) Some photos from Ouarzazate, the Hollywood of Morocco:

More camels--albino ones, we think?

Group photo--can you spot me?

The arena where Gladiator, which I've never seen, was filmed.

The ksar or kasbah (fortress) of Ouarzazate, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site

2.) The answer to my linguistic puzzle from last blog entry: why is the Fez hat called a Fez, even though it is Turkish? Drumroll...and the answer is...:

    Because the dye used to make the hats their trademark red color came from a pigment imported from Fés, Morocco. No surprise there--Moroccans are known for their pigments, and honestly for their craftsmanship in general. I have bought so many handiworks while here, way more than I usually do: a hand-embroidered decorative pillowcase, handmade soap, argan oil for the hair (the Moroccan art of adapting argan oil to different kinds of hair products and other goods has been labelled a UNESCO intangible cultural heritage of the country), several handmade ceramics, a hand-painted magnet, a couple of drawings hand-painted in a burnt mixture of sugar and saffron, a handmade leather wallet, and a handmade Moroccan throw rug. What can I say? I grew up in a family that appreciates the value of high-quality handmade products.

    After the high of recounting the beautiful goods I have bought from this country, allow me now to delve into my main purpose for writing: failure. Recently our group has taken a turn for the worse, halfway through our program. About half of us are glued to the toilet seat retching or exploding our guts out, sniffling with colds and sinus infections, stumbling over ourselves with motion sickness, or some combination of the above. Our tour guide, the indomitable and multitalented Lhoucine, has taken to fathering the sick members of our group, commanding them to eat nothing but bananas, rice, and bread and urging them to drink lots of water. I'm fine, but it puts a damper on the whole trip when so many people around me are suffering. I think it's probably just the usual suspects, a combination of the heat, unfamiliar ingredients in the food, and careless sanitation practices while traveling. 

    Though I'm fine, our pathetic state these past few days mirrors my own failure to keep up with using the trip as an opportunity for improving my French. After the high of the last entry, I have barely used it at all. Even when I am alone and not with the group, I address people in English first, not even trying. The driver spoke to me in French the other day and I barely responded to him, walking way quickly so I didn't have to engage too much. It's like after I had some successes, I decided that was enough and that I was going to rest on my laurels for the rest of the trip.

    My experience reveals two of the lows that are likely to happen in any foreign language-learning experience: fatigue, which makes a person not even feel like trying, and complacency, which makes a person feel like they're good enough because they had a decent conversation in the language that one time last week. Both of these can lead to laziness and a reluctance to engage in anything but one's native language, especially when one is privileged enough for that language to be English, widely spoken in tourist areas. 

    It's important to acknowledge that these pitfalls exist, because that's the first step to getting over them. My antidote to the first one, fatigue, is to take care of myself: eat well, get more rest, don't over-tax my body. The field of medicine now acknowledges the close-knit relationship of mental and physical health, and I am convinced that this applies to foreign language-learning as well. Nobody's language skills are going to get any better if they haven't taken care of their basic physical needs first. Priorities, people. 

    My antidote to complacency, on the other hand, is an internal pep talk. I have to remind myself of my professional goal for this trip and my responsibility to my students, to demonstrate that when the going gets tough, it's possible and necessary to forge ahead anyway if I really care about getting my language level up. One strategy is to start slow and gradually get back into the rhythm of things. For example, today I at least managed a few "Merci"'s and "De rien"'s in response to some people. Maybe tomorrow, I will get a few sentences out again.

    Failure happens. Highs and lows happen. This is a normal part of the language-learning process. I experienced a lot of discouragement during my Chinese-language-learning journey as well, which is also far from over (they never end). It's important to keep in mind the goal, pick yourself up again, and just keep trying, one word at a time. This is especially key because positive encouragement coming from outside of yourself can be in short order, so you need to have a solid internal reservoir of positive thoughts to keep yourself motivated to progress toward your goal. Keep that reservoir filled, and no amount of fatigue, complacency, or discouraging responses from other people will hold you back from achieving what you want.