Somerville Tiznit Sister Cities 2011

by karen Krolak

Tiznit, Tiznit, Tiznit! I am thrilled to announce that I have been selected to participate in the Second Somerville Tiznit Sister Cities program. Just as Monkeyhouse is wrapping up Against the Odds, Stories of Adaptation, Translation, & Survival, I will be skedaddling off to Morocco again to meet up with some partners for Moving for Meaning. Then just after Easter, a delegation from Tiznit will arrive in Somerville. And, we thought things might get quiet after Against the Odds. Hee hee.

I realize that I left people hanging with the posts on Moving for Meaning but I will be sure to remedy that before too much longer. Goodness, Monkeyhouse has been bustling this year.

Moving for Meaning (part 1)

 by karen Krolak

Within Somerville's Sister City delegation to Tiznit, Morocco, there were several people who possessed the same first name. We had oodles of Ellens, a couple Cynthias and and a pair of Karens. These overlaps frequently confused people from both cities and they prompted a few farcical miscommunications.

The other Karen, Karen Comeau, teaches third and fourth grade at the Healey School. Her passion for her class was palpable every time groups gathered around a tagine and discussed future collaborations. She's the type of teacher who would forgo the one short time slot of souvenir shopping on our trip to assist one one of her pupils who was originally from Morocco. While almost everyone else was wandering the bazaar, she reached out to this kid's relatives. She even overcame the language barrier by bringing drawings from their nephew and his Somerville classmates.

One day last spring Karen bumped into me in line for a latte at Bloc 11. As we chatted, she mentioned how eager she was harness the momentum from our trip to Morocco and transform it into a dynamic learning experience for her students. I was itching to immerse Monkeyhouse in an international, educational project. Before our coffee appeared, we began hatching a plan.

Stories from the Somerville-Tiznit Sister Cities (part 5)

by karen Krolak

Part of a continuing series on Karen and Jason's trip to Morocco with 28 other people from Somerville...including Mayor Joseph Curtatone.

It is strange to remember that a month ago we were waiting for a bus at the Casablanca airport. Uff, I had such ambitious plans for writing about my trip. Between all the holidays and getting prepped for the Cool New York Dance Festival, however, I have fallen a bit behind.

Our camera's lens froze up almost as soon as we arrived so Jason and I had to rely on our phones for snapshots. These photos remind me of the formality, or perhaps ceremonious tone, of our activities. Somehow I had not expected to be

greeted by the Governor at the Agadir airport. He lead us to a private lounge area where we were served refreshing mint tea before being whisked off to dinner.

The following morning we attended a ceremony at the Culture Center and listened to several presentations about Tiznit and Somerville. I wish I had been able to get a shot of the beautiful billboard-sized banner that hung over the stage.

Our delegation reminded me of a mass of cotton candy as more and more people swept into our group. After every activity, new faces joined us on the bus and

swarms of reporters and photographers followed Mayor Curtatone and the rest of us as we toured sites.

Between the jetlag and the non-stop introductions, I was quickly overwhelmed with names. As my daners can attest, names are not my strong suit. At one point I met two gregarious students named Rachid and Redouan. Poor Redouan was so frustrated evry time he bumped into me after that. He would always ask if I remembered meeting him at the Culture Center and I would say, "Yes, your name is...is...not Rachid."

to be continued...

To comply with recent legislation regarding blogging, I should mention that my trip was sponsored by University of the Middle East project, The U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs in concert with Sister Cities International, the City of Somerville, the City of Tiznit and the Moroccan American Cultural Center. My G1 was a birthday present from a dear friend and loyal Monkeyhouse supporter at Google. Readers should know that my experiences would not be typical for anyone else.

Stories from the Somerville-Tiznit Sister Cities (part 4)

by karen Krolak

Part of a continuing series on Karen and Jason's trip to Morocco with 28 other people from Somerville...including Mayor Curtatone.

I am a fan of texture
and I find my G1 phone (thanks again, Richard)



captures great snippets of graffiti




&


intriguing layers.

to be continued...

To comply with recent legislation regarding blogging, I should mention that my trip was sponsored by University of the Middle East project, The U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs in concert with Sister Cities International, the City of Somerville, the City of Tiznit and the Moroccan American Cultural Center. My G1 was a birthday present from a dear friend and loyal Monkeyhouse supporter at Google. Readers should know that my experiences would not be typical for anyone else.

Stories from the Somerville-Tiznit Sister Cities (part 3)

by karen Krolak

I was feeling fairly droopy by the time we boarded our Royal Air Maroc flight to Casablanca and was not in the mood for the seat swapping chaos that erupted in our row. As soon as everyone settled in and snapped on their seat belts, I curled up for a nap. My eyes were shut before the overhead bins were. Thankfully, the scent of steak tips drew me out of my slumber. As I unfolded my tray table, the woman who had won the window seat next to me began to chat. I wasn't fully conscious when she introduced herself so I can not recall her name.

As I pulled the foil off my meal, she explained that she was looking forward to spending three weeks with her family in Liberia. Nine years ago, she had moved to Amsterdam and she described the awkwardness of being a bridge between these two cultures. "Luckily, I write," she proclaimed. "I have lived through a lot. When an unpleasant thought or memory comes into my head, I write it down so that I do not have to remember it," she continued.

Although she had never heard of Tiznit, she was extremely curious about the Sister Cities project. When I told her about Monkeyhouse in the middle of lunch somewhere over France, we unfortunately found that friction between traditional and contemporary art forms. Her eyes glanced down as she confided that she had never heard of a choreographer before she arrived in Holland. "I never realized that there were people who made the dances." she admitted with a tinge of embarrassment. I, however, was equally mortified by my ignorance of African dances and other cultures where dances were proudly passed down through generations.

We found common ground, though, once we started talking about choreography as moving with meaning. As I began describing projects Monkeyhouse has done with at risk teens, her broad smile beamed. She had a fifteen year old daughter who was finally able to join her in Amsterdam four years ago. Apparently, the culture shock had been much harder for her daughter. "If it hadn't been for her dance therapist, I don't know how she would have survived," my seatmate announced. "You should see what happens to her when she dances. I write but she can only express herself in movement. I wish women in my hometown had help like this but they would never go to therapy," she said.

At the time I wasn't sharp enough to respond. I have been wondering since then, however. Do you think social dances provide a cultural form of dance therapy? Do specific dances help people to express certain emotions or wordless ideas? Any thoughts?

to be continued...


To comply with recent legislation regarding blogging, I should mention that my trip was sponsored by University of the Middle East project, The U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs in concert with Sister Cities International, the City of Somerville, the City of Tiznit and the Moroccan American Cultural Center. Readers should know that my experiences would not be typical for anyone else.

Stories from the Somerville-Tiznit Sister Cities (part 2)

by karen Krolak



Part of a continuing series on Karen and Jason's trip to Morocco with 28 other people from Somerville...including Mayor Curtatone.

With our flight delay, we only had a four hour layover in Amsterdam. Jason and I figured this gave us just enough time to dart in to Amsterdam Centraal station for a taste of Dutch culture. Being from Boston, we were not worried by the snow flurries as we landed. Unbeknownst to us, though, Holland was in the midst of its largest snowstorm in 10 years. We didn't realize that the public transportation systems were ensnared in chaos until we crowded into the throngs of tourists waiting at Schiphol station. By the time we snagged a train and entered Amsterdam Centraal, we had less than 55 minutes to explore the area.

As we strolled around the harbor, I pulled a luscious ball of brown alpaca out of my pocket and started crocheting. It is a habit that began during my work on mapping movements as part of my Somerville Arts Council Fellowship. Sometimes these airy fiber tangles evolve into cowls or lacy snoods which are surprisingly warm. The brown alpaca ball was not content in my pocket, however. Jason kept noticing when it lurched into the slush and would chase after it. Cyclists who whizzed by us must have been fairly amused by our odd tourist dance.

We turned down a bustling street lined with shops eventually but we did not have the inclination or time to pop into most of them. Having been a fan of Wasik's Cheese Shop in Wellesley for decades, though, we did check out the local cheese monger. (I have included the above photo for one of my fabulous students at Impulse Dance Center. She told me that all she wanted for Christmas was cheese. Really, how many teens are that sassy?)

Though our return train was delayed, we were blissfully unaware of how lucky we were to get back to the airport in time for our flight. According to Wikipedia,

In the Netherlands, snowfall on 17 December led to a shutdown of Utrecht Centraal, by far the largest rail hub in the country. Problems arose in early afternoon, followed by heavy delays. Eventually, almost all scheduled train services were cancelled, as a means of maintaining those that were running Meanwhile, on highways in the Netherlands snowfall on 17 December led to the busiest morning rush hour of 2009, with a total of 671 kilometres (417 mi) of traffic jams. On the A12, there was an 84-kilometre (52 mi) traffic jam.

In the line for customs, I recognized a few faces from our earlier flight. I asked if any of them were with the Sister Cities program and that is how we met half of the educators from Somerville who were traveling with us. They had also ventured in to the city and were giddy with stories of their transit adventures. After getting our passports stamped, Jason and I rushed through a duty free shop for some tulip bulbs for my father and arrived at our gate as the plane was boarding. Our next stop was Casablanca.

to be continued...

To comply with recent legislation regarding blogging, I should mention that my trip was sponsored by University of the Middle East project, The U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs in concert with Sister Cities International, the City of Somerville, the City of Tiznit and the Moroccan American Cultural Center. Readers should know that my experiences would not be typical for anyone else...especially those resist the urge to crochet in snowstorms.

Stories from the Somerville-Tiznit Sister Cities Delegation (part 1)

by karen Krolak

Alas, the henna on my hands and ankles is really starting to fade. Though I had hoped to post photos and share our adventures from Tiznit, Morocco, our delegation's schedule left barely enough time for longish naps at night and our cell phones suffered from data connection issues. To be fair, though, this was a paltry price to pay for such an incredible experience.


Now that we are back in Somerville's snow dusted streets, I will attempt to cover some of the highlights of this amazing journey. I am so thankful to all the people in both cities who organized this project.

Even with my lavender and rose filled neck pillow, I found it difficult to sleep on the first leg of trip. Fortunately, our plane had individual movie monitors and I was able to watch a fluffy Bollywood extravaganza before dinner was served. Although the romantic plot line was predictable, the film's theme of people seeking to balance ancient cultural traditions with contemporary life reverberated through many of my later conversations in Morocco. Besides, I am a total sucker for Bollywood's sprawling dance scenes.

After dinner Jason and I synced up our screens to watch Pixar's UP together. Having seen some of Pixar's earliest projects at Siggraph conferences with my father in the late 80's, I was once again impressed by their artistic evolution. One of my favorite students from my days of choreographing musicals at Dover Sherborn High School, Najeeb, now works for Pixar. Even though I am not exactly sure how he was involved with this film, I was still rather proud of him.

Of course, since I selected to view UP in French in a last minute effort to brush up on my rusty speaking skills, I will need to see it again. Madame Witzberg would be so disappointed by how infrequently I grasped snippets and phrases.

The overwhelming majority of our group is composed of educators. As I bumbled through the movie's dialogue, I was repeatedly reminded of how much I have benefited from my relationships with teachers and students in ways that extended far beyond a class' subject matter.

Who would have guessed that in-flight movies would hit on two major topics at the heart of this trip to North Africa?

to be continued...

To comply with recent legistalation regarding blogging, I should mention that my trip was sponsored by The U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs in concert with Sister Cities International, the City of Somerville, the City of Tiznit and the Moroccan American Cultural Center. Readers should know that my experiences would not be typical for anyone else...especially those that studied French more diligently in high school and college.