Boyfriend has gone home, and the amazing weather and lack of bother which I had while he was here has evaporated as well.Yes people, that’s right. Once again, I’m afraid It’s Raining Here in Fes…

I think that linking back to my own blog is probably the blogosphere equivalent of dividing by zero, but I just had to do it to see if it would work. And it did, which probably makes me awesome in some way.

But back to the story. If you’ve ever heard the phrase ‘like rats leaving a sinking ship’ then you’ll be able to understand how my day has gone. Fes is acting like a sinking ship under the relentless torrents of rain which we’ve had since the huge thunderstorm on the night that Boyfriend left. And like rats, the creepy men are all out and about in the rain. Its creep circus out there. Earlier it was like someone had dropped a big creep-bomb and ground zero was me. I must walk around with a neon sign over my head saying ‘Creep on ME!’

There it is in the dark, following me around…

Let me tell you about my walk home. I began by walking with some friends. That was fine. But a minute after leaving my friend at her road (I live another 30 minutes beyond there) the creeps were upon me. We began with a guy who looked about 15. He followed me for a while, asking if I needed help getting home. My normal tactic of complete blanking didn’t work, so I just sharply told him no. He shouted after me for a few steps, asking my name. He was swiftly followed up by creepy car man, who crept his car along the road opposite me. I ignored him. When I got to the boulevard I met up with creepy number 3. For a while he just followed me, but then he began vaguely whispering at me. It was weird. But I had my umbrella up by this point to stop the rain, so it was even easier to ignore him. Creep four was the hardest to shake, he actually held the edge of my umbrella up. I told him to get lost in Spanish (I don’t like them knowing I speak English) but that didn’t work. He followed me for a good 5 minutes, and I have a horrible suspicion it was longer and he now knows where I live. Having finally got rid of him, and now 3 minutes from home, bring on car-creep number two, who stuck to the curb pleading with me to hop in and catch a lift home. If I could have hit him with my umbrella, I think I would have.

Urgh.

I am a terrible blogger, and had a few posts planned which have been set aside due to spending all night booking a summer holiday. So here are a few things which make me sigh and say (the catchphrase of the year, may I add)

Lets have some fun stories and facts about hair removal. It’s been a theme of my life for a few days now.

So, let us begin. As a girl, I have made the decision to remove the hair from certain parts of my body. These principally include my legs and underarms. I use a razor. But no more, once I get back to England. Want to know why? Because I have been introduced to the world of epilating. It isn’t as painful as it sounds.

For those of you who don’t know, an epilator is a device which consists of a set of HORRENDOUS SPEED-ROTATING DEATH-TWEEZERS. Which is enough to put anyone off. But having been persuaded to give this implement of doom a try a few days ago, I’m converted. It has left my leg smoother than shaving, and doesn’t hurt horribly.

Another thing which people sometimes shave is their eyebrows. Some girls completely shave their eyebrows and draw them back on, some have tattoos even. Some people just shave or pluck the bridge of their nose to stop the appearance of a mono-brow. If you’re my boyfriend, you might spontaneously decide you need to do this (for no reason, may I add. Boyfriend does not have a mono-brow in the slightest) and you might use your shaver, and you might take a bit of your eyebrows off at the same time. He still looks good, just a little like his eyebrows are set too far apart.

If you’re a Muslim, I have discovered, there are bits of you which should be hairless. This is for the purposes of staying clean, and I have to say, I can definitely applaud that sentiment. However, one of the bits which should be clean and hair free is the pubic area. Now, I keep my bikini line neat, and I am perfectly comfortable with how I have it. I would not manage very well were someone to tell me to be completely bare.  I am not a waxing fan anyway, since it is akin to self-harm in my books, and I can only be in awe of the Muslim girls over here who get a full wax down there. Ouch.

Today I hit the wall, again.This happens to me frequently. Life is chugging along, being happy and minding its own business, and then I just stop, and realise how unhappy I have just become.

I’m unhappy because The Boy is leaving Morocco in a few hours and I just can’t think of many reasons to stay here without him. We’ve had such a tremendous week, but I don’t have any drive now to go back to school. Also, I’ve not seen much of the Moroccan family, and so I am feeling a bit at a loose end, and not sure what to do with myself. I feel like I’m going to need  a couple of days of settling back into a routine before I can answer that question.

I know I have a lot to look forward to though, so rather than letting myself slide down the wall into a little sad puddle on the floor, I’m going to try and take this feeling as a wake-up call, to remind myself that I have two and a half months left in this fantastic country to get lots of things seen, get some good grades, and learn a lot at my work internship. And the fact is, that though I am going to really miss the people I’ve seen over the last few weeks, especially The Boy and my family, I don’t need people to support me night and day. I’m an independent young woman, in an awesome position, and by golly I’m going to make the most of it!

I accept that I have not necessarily lived up to blogging expectations over the last few days. I have been busy entertaining The Boy. He has seen the old medina, the mausoleum of Moulay Idriss, the areas of Rcif, Batha and Bab Boujloud and of course the famous Fes tanneries. Alongside that he’s visited the Ville Nouvelle, walked along the boulevard and had a few nice stops at cafes and restaurants.There are photos, but he won’t put them on Facebook until he gets back. He can be backwards like that. Good thing I like him really.

Today he met the parents. Again. He’s met my actual parents more than once, and they like him, and he is moderately not-scared of them. All good. Today the plan was…

I’m hyping it up a little bit, because actually it was a lovely chilled out lunch. Mr Aziz wanted to be there but unfortunately he was called away to Meknes, so it was an introduction to Madame Halima principally.

We ate good food, had a lot of fun understanding each other in a variety of languages, and then The Boy and I left to let her carry on with her day. As far as meeting the parents goes, especially across a cultural boundary, it was pretty good.

More photos to come of our other adventures here in Morocco, and normal posting will resume on Monday when I get back into the regular and depressing school rhythms once again.

Toodleoo.

I am sorry guys. For the past two weeks I have not beenBlogalicious
Blogtastic
Blogarific

Or even

Blogified

The reason for this of course is that I have been in the UK, having a holiday, but I arrived back in Morocco this evening, with none other than The Boy in tow. He is visiting for a week, so expect sporadic posting, some (hopefully) fantastic photos (finally) of where I live and what I do, and some fun stories of the touristy things he and I get up to. I’m hoping it will be a fantastic and memorable week, so let’s hope I can pull it off!

It is 1.40 in the morning here in England.Oh yeah, I’m back in the UK by the way guys! So be prepared for a lack of posts for a while.

Anyway, I digress. It’s 1.40 in the morning. I have had a long day, full of cooking, and travelling, and sports, and stresses. And now I am sat in my kitchen doing some much needed clothes washing, and trying to find something to eat. And listening to people argue on telly.

And it has just come to me, that in a material way, there is one thing I love about England more than anything else. And that is being able to watch the BBC without cheating in some way by streaming online or by using some kind of proxy. The BBC should be more free with their online service, because they produce such interesting programs, and I feel like as (basically) an ex-pat, it’s a shame I can’t keep up with those. But since I’m back in the UK that’s not too much of an issue.

I feel like I’m rambling because I’m tired. G’night all.

We went to a party, filled with the most bizarre concoction of ajanib you’ve ever seen in your life. Ajanib is foreigners, and we made up a pretty good cross-section of the expat community of Fes.We were
6 English students
3 American Fulbright scholars
2 English teachers
1 Lebanese hydrologist
1 French engineer

It was an interesting party, and it was nice to meet some new people who are living here in Morocco for different reasons. I can’t imagine being like the teachers who live in the medina full-time and really hate going to the more modern parts of the world, but I think the lifestyle which they have is cool anyway. And I love the idea of being like the Lebanese hydrologist, doing interesting research for a year.

It’s interesting to look at some of the options I might have after I finish my degree.