Today I woke up. Looked at my phone. Realised it wasn’t making the annoying alarm-noise.

And I thought, Oh Hey there 7.38am. I should have been getting a taxi ten minutes ago. I was ready and out of the door in five minutes, much to the surprise of Halima who thought I had left about an hour before or something. Thankfully I got a taxi fairly swiftly, and made it to class at exactly 7.59am.

I don’t know if you have realised by now that I do not handle missing classes very well. Last year I missed one lecture, at 9am on a Tuesday, for Islamic History. I was in every way gutted for the whole time.

Zaim has arrived, so I must wake up, and get on with my classes. Later guys.

My friends found a tiny fluffy puppy, so they took her in. They think she was dumped because she looks really well looked after an healthy. They’re getting her to the vet tomorrow to get checked out. She’s sweet.

In other news, today was alright. Class as usual, handed in my first piece of written work which I should get back tomorrow. I was pleased at the standard, so we’ll just have to see. Also, I really need a job because I have too much free time, and I should be doing something with it.

And now I have nothing more to say, which I find just as shocking as I’m sure you do. I need to get a notebook so I can jot down thoughts, because I’m pretty sure I had about a million ideas for things to write earlier, and now they’ve all vanished.

Let me tell you about my weekend in Ifrane.

Big Morocco Brother (BMB from here forward) and Big Morocco Sister (you guessed it, BMS) both go to Al-Akhawayn University in Ifrane. BMS is doing her masters degree there, and BMB is a lecturer. The university prides itself on being ‘American-style’ – in fact, Americans come to study there even on courses which aren’t language related, because all the lectures are given in English, and are examined to the same requirements as American universities. It is a really interesting mix of cultures, because while you see very few women wearing the Hijab, or other aspects of life which are part of the norm in Morocco, the students are still in single sex accomodation blocks, and can’t go between them. If BMB wants to visit BMS, she has to come right out of her block to talk to him. Awkward.

My taxi journey to Ifrane was lovely, because I was cream crackered and so I slept the entire way. BMS met me at the gate of the uni, and we had a little tour, some food, and then a chill in her room where we had girly-gossip-times. And I discovered another interesting culture-clash fact. BMS has a boyfriend. But he’s a secret boyfriend because Halima and Aziz would be angry if they knew. And BMB has a girlfriend in Japan (which I knew about) and another girl in tow here. I met them both this weekend. BMS’s boyfriend is charming, and made a real effort to speak English to me, even though I explained that I speak French perfectly well.

We all went bowling, which was good fun. I came second, unexpectedly. I love doing well at things through sheer luck, which it always is with me. We also went up to the mountains, and then played Monopoly until 4am this morning. I lasted a long time, considering I only had the purple properties. Which though they look shiny and expensive, are always the wrong way to go. But I’m like a little child, and I don’t think before I act…which might be why I found myself kicking the crunchy autumn leaves around before remembering that I am nearly twenty, and that kind of activity is no longer acceptable, especially in company.

I enjoyed my weekend all told, even though it rained an entire lake on Ifrane today. I loved that everyone spoke to me in English, even though they didn’t need to. And I was happy at how much of the Arabic conversation I understood as well. The multiculturalism of Ifrane is fascinating. But now sadly I have homework and so I will leave you a picture of Akhawayn Campus.

I think I am melting.

But my fingers are not melted enough to type, even though my brain might well be. Here goes nothing. Today I woke up early, had a nice breakfast and then went to school. By went, I mean I stood right next to a parked taxi for 5 minutes before the driver was kind enough to ask me if I needed a lift. Clearly I was not ‘with it’. Speaking was good, Bouchra is a good teacher and she answers questions efficiently. The usual suspects missed class, but it’s their loss. Then we had writing which I found interesting, but was probably the only one. Then I came home.

I didn’t walk because it’s hot, and I’ll die if I try to move. Therefore, I am not moving, so I am going to bung some telly on, and sit and work. So tell me (or rather don’t – no-one really gives me much feedback when I ask questions, and I don’t actually care too much anyway) what TV do you guys like watching? Here is my present list of likes

Waterloo Road
Merlin
Masterchef: The Professionals
Glee (series 2)
Ugly Betty (series 2)
Dexter (series 2)
QI
Only Connect
Russell Howard’s Good News

People often comment on my choices of TV, but what can I say? I am a lover of all things drama-fantasy-quiz-comedy. And cooking. Anything cooking. I would marry Michel Roux Jr in a second if he asked me.

Young ogres use recipes easily at stormy tables around Russia.

We had gouté which is French for ‘fattening afternoon snacktime’. I made English tea. Halima liked it, but Aziz wasn’t as keen. And they both prefer it without milk. Ah well, some people will always be awkward like that I suppose. Mounia couldn’t try it because she’s gone home ill poor pet.

So, back to the promised post. Ways I have been propositioned.

1) The obvious – Chatting Up
This is one which I get really frequently when I am in a relationship, and almost never when I am single. Interesting stuff. In recent times chatting up has included spilling alcohol down my back at at bar, numerous comments about the size of my breasts, including some fairly tacky online attempts, and shameless use of a variety of pet names (and to the person who does this, I’m not faulting you, just honouring you in writing). The thing with chatting up however, is that you have to give the person a fighting chance. I have a cruel sarcastic edge when it comes to putting people off this particular style of proposal.

2) Touching Up
This is thankfully a rare occurrence. I have yet to be molested over here in Morocco, unlike some of my course mates (but then if you will go out to clubs where the only girls are hookers, prepare to be groped). The last time anyone tried this on me was in a club, and I made it quite clear that my large male friends would beat them senseless if they tried it again (if I didn’t get there first).

3) Techno-dating
I’ve kept this a bit separate from ‘Chatting Up’ because I think it’s an entirely different ball-game. I have had a lot of guys who I consider friends who would text me, IM me or e-mail me constantly. It always takes them actually saying it before I realise that this is their form of ‘Chatting Up’. They’re always the same kind of guy, really kind and nice but a bit shy – your typical ‘Nice guy comes last’ character. I have to say, I’ve always quite liked this type of guy, but I normally blindly mistake their attention for friendship, and by the time they tell me, they’re already firmly in the ‘you’re like my brother’ box. So maybe not the most successful method.

4) Drive-by
This can be several different things. Curb crawling, cat calling, and whistling are all included in this category. I’d be interested to know if any of these guys have managed to pick up a girl (that they didn’t need to pay) like this. I personally find it plain irritating, and I get the impression that most other girls do as well. Interesting that it doesn’t stop guys doing it.

5) Street talkers
These are particularly frequent in Fes. They are the guys who see you from about ten metres away, and then talk to you until you’ve passed them by ten metres. In that twenty metres they can be whistling, shouting, or just trying a variety of different languages to get a response. Some are quite nice, and just come out with the standard ‘Beautiful English Girls!’ but some are just crude – ‘Hey Bitch. You lookin SWEET’ – and some are just creepy. A friend of mine was calmly told right in the middle of the street that she had ‘really good breasts’. The guy just kept on walking, as if he’d just said ‘Hi there’.

6) Dating
I have never experienced this really. I think it is adorable, but not very frequent any more, which is sad. I’d love it if a guy I’d only recently met asked me to dinner, or to go and catch a film together. Of course, everyone knows that sometimes this is followed up by questionable intentions, but mostly, I think guys who still want to wine and dine ladies are the truest gentlemen of this world. As sung by the wonderful Victoria Hart I think they’ve done something funny to love.

PS I also have decided to plug some of the blogs which I read, which I think you should read also. First up, Stuff no-one told me (but I learnt anyway). It’s just nice to read.