Category Archives: Morocco

Grooovy

Fun, Life, Morocco

Mounia is like a ghost. She scared the life out of me, one second I was alone and the next she’s here quietly cleaning the floor. Having a ‘maid’ is something I will never get used to, I feel like I need to help her all the time.

I have a serious problem with losing my thread. I’ll log onto Blogger with an idea in my head for a post, and in the three clicks it takes me to composing my message, I’ve always forgotten what I was going to put. Maybe I’ll come back to this later, with something clever to say. Maybe not.

Grooveshark is my friend.

UPDATE: The more observant of you might have noticed a new box on my sidebar called ‘Scores’. This is because whenever Le Boyfriend gets me with his bantertricks he gives himself a point. So I’ve decided to keep score and turn it into a competition, because I am a competitive person. Also, I’m awesome. At the moment, we’re 1-1 but this will doubtless change. Soon.

Late Arabian Nights

Life, Morocco

I need to have less late nights. I’d like to pretend I slept badly last night which is why I stayed in bed til midday, but there are 3 people in the world right now that know that’s not true. I just decided to stay up, and consequently was really tired at normal o’clock this morning.

The problem with that is that I had to get up sometime, and the only other person in the house when I managed it was Mounia. She’s lovely, but bless her, we don’t understand each other. She doesn’t speak French, and she can’t seem to understand that I need her to talk to me really slowly in Arabic for us to stand a chance. Eventually we managed to grasp that I wanted a shower, and she wanted me to have breakfast, so our crisis was solved. And, it’ll get me talking properly I suppose, now that I’ve got no choice.

Today I am revising because I have some tests on Monday. That could be another good reason why I shouldn’t have stayed up, but what’s done is done (and it was good fun).

I had a crazy dream as well, that I was in a videogame where you lead a bear to fish and if he eats them then good stuff happens. Then Le Boyfriend arrived and we had to run away from an evil man, but he was tracking us because I had a biometric chip in my hand so I pulled it out. And then we sat and chatted to some people in a posh restaurant.

That is another good reason I probably shouldn’t stay up late. My subconscious can’t handle it.

Golden Brown ♪♫

Life, Morocco

I just realised I’m going brown, and I felt that deserved a blog post. Because I don’t tan. My skin sees the sun and does this …

Let me tell you, it’s not fun. There is no amount of aftersun in the world that will fix bacon-skin no matter what anyone tells you. I also burn in really ridiculous places like the tops of my ears, and my cheeks. If you know me you will know that my cheeks stick out about a mile from my face, which might explain that one.
Also, I’ve re-discovered TV! I don’t think I should probably say how, in case the interwebs police come and tell me that it’s not allowed, but it means I can watch iplayer again, from over here. Many happies for me. However, it does mean I have fallen back into my old ways, which is to say, watching Grannie Programs intended only for Grannies.
Le Boyfriend dislikes my addiction to said Grannie Programs, as well as everything else Granny-ish I do. For to good of the blog, I feel like I should now list these things out.
– Enjoying stately homes
– Enjoying country walks
– Baking cakes
– Being able to knit (not very well, I must add, but I still do it)
– Liking museums
– Liking history in general really (and this criticism comes from the man who nearly did a history degree)
– Driving at the speed limit or below
– Watching my telly, which includes
  = Murder She Wrote
  = New Tricks
  = Midsommer Murders
  = Miss Marple
  = Actually anything with a ridiculous murder plot, as long as it’s not set in Oxford or Scotland.
Having now typed that out, I am ready to accept that maybe I am an old woman. But I am a cool old woman. Maybe I’ll dye my hair purple.

A post a day…

Language, Life, Morocco

…I could say keeps the doctor away, but
1) that’s probably a complete lie (I haven’t researched it)
2) this is my second post today anyway

I don’t honestly have anything to say, because I’ve not had a thrilling day. Woke up, posted about the wedding, had lunch, chatted with my Morocco sister, she left for uni, and then I came in here.

Oh, and we got a new maid. Her name is Mounia. She talks like this….

咖啡鸡舞爱的性同性恋婚姻
Yes, that is Chinese, and no, I do not understand it. I think she’s supposed to speak to me in Arabic, but I’m almost certain she’s just messing with my head and speaking something else. Sure I’ll get used to it though.

Have a Zaimism from Friday’s class to cheer you all up

‘the sentence has two parts, two legs, so the sentence can walk, can run, can play’


PS you should totally google translate my Chinese. I just picked some random words, but I like how it has re-translated itself. Oh, and then put the translation into Bad Translator and ask it to translate the max.56 times. I enjoy online translation a lot. 

And this is why weddings are awesome

Fun, Life, Morocco

So the wedding last night. Wow. Moroccans know how to do a wedding.

I got a picture with the bride. Score

Let me explain, this wasn’t entirely traditional. It was a Moroccan girl marrying a Swiss guy, and so they’d had a formal wedding in Geneva, and then a traditional style one here, with the night ending European style with a loud DJ and dancing. But before that, was the traditional bit. And the rest of the story you can see in pictures = )

The bride on her crazy throne above everyone
Yes, that was 4 HUGE plates of food. Between 5 of us.

And finally, this is me all dressed up in Halima’s Kaftan and Assya’s sandals. I hope you like it, I loved it although it was heavy, and we were expected to dance all night. No wonder I was so tired when I got home!

EDIT: Just realised how well I blend into the furniture in these pictures. LOL.

Somebody make me happy?

Life, Morocco, Rant, Travel

I’m really down in the dumps today. There are reasons, which I will not go into (although they include severe heartburn but I don’t know where the nearest pharmacy is and anyway I’m lazy). They are all perfectly good reasons too. And that being the case, I should be able to solve them and get on with my life, but apparently no.

My main problem is that here I have no-one to confide in. At home, Le Boyfriend does that job, and I talk to him about things and he explains how I am being a silly moo and he makes things alright. Here I don’t have that. And I need someone to talk to! And blogging is good, except I don’t want to tell the internet about my private life, and Le Boyfriend reacts badly to me telling other people about our private life too. I never realise until it’s too late that I’ve said something I shouldn’t, which then makes me feel encore worse.

I am a human vicious circle.

Remember the post about my brain doing this… –>

Well it’s doing it again. Over nothing. And there is not one thing in the whole world I hate more than knowing I am stressing about nothing, and yet continuing to stress.

I quite need a hug.

PS I am scared about dressing up fancy and going to a wedding where I know hardly anyone and don’t speak the language. It’s one of my reasons for my mood. It’s fair, right?

Wedding Day

Life, Morocco, Travel

No, not mine, obviously. Le Boyfriend (as he is now known around the house) is certainly not ready for that step.

We are going to a trad Moroccan wedding – which will turn into an Italian wedding half-way through, should be fun. The only problem is that
1) I don’t speak Arabic yet
2) I got up at 6.30 this morning AND it might go on until about 4 tomorrow morning.

Also, everything I am wearing is borrowed, which is nice, and it’s all beautiful (pictures sometime tomorrow Insh’allah) but it’s weird not wearing my own clothes. I wish I’d brought a dress now, but I don’t think I really own anything appropriate anyway.

Also, on a completely separate note, I am a taximagnet. Let me clarify. I have, in the past week, acquired two different taxi-driver’s numbers. The second one refused to charge me for the fare, on the basis I called him. I told him I was busy tonight and I’m hoping he’ll forget, because I certainly intend to. No offence to the guy, but if I was going to pick someone to marry, I wouldn’t pick someone driving around a bashed up red Uno for money.

Facebook makes me nervous

Food, Life, Morocco

If you didn’t already know, I’m sure it’s becoming clear that I am a bit of an internet addict. When I’m at home, and I have actual things to do, I am not an internet addict, because I have things to do. Here, no matter how comfortable I am, is not home, and I may not go for a random jog, or watch some awful television (except in French or Arabic. Although ‘Un Dîner Presque Parfait’ is amazing)

So I get really nervous when my internet lifeline breaks on me. Particularly when there is something I specifically want to do on it. Today, I specifically want to look at drunk freshers photos from the lovely people at home. And I’m not being allowed and that makes me really nervous and tense because I dislike things not working. If you were privy to ‘the phone fiasco’ that happened a few weeks ago, you will know exactly what I’m talking about.

In remedy of my nervousness, I am therefore blogging. I have been made aware I blog worryingly often, and I would like to say
I don’t care
It’s something to do with my life

I also became a techno whizz and managed to download the appropriate drivers for my bluetooth which means you can have some pictures not stolen from other parts of the interwebs now. Ignore that, I’ve failed at technology. I wanted to show you the fruit salad I had earlier. Maybe some other time when I stop losing the war against my computer. Stolen fruit salad.

Question

Fun, Life, Morocco, Travel

I have an issue with socks. I don’t know what it is exactly but, I just don’t get on well with them. I went through years of only being allowed black socks (school and then work) and so now I only own brightly coloured socks covered in stripes or cherries or elephants. But I still don’t get on with them.

My problem is less the standard sock-muncher one (nice picture of The Eater of Socks from The Hogfather there – did I mention I’m addicted to Terry Pratchett?) anyway, less of a sock-muncher problem and more of a suitcase problem.

So normally, I forget to pack socks. And then at 2am on the day of leaving, I remember that I forgot to pack socks. That happened coming here, and my suitcase was only just underweight as it was. I ended up having a rucksack stuffed tight with all the socks I could find. It was excessive effort.

And it probably wouldn’t have made much difference to the luggage if I’d put them in there. As it turns out.

SO ANYWAY, back to the question which is the subject of my post…

Is it totally ridiculous to miss wearing socks?
Yes, I am serious. After all the hassle of getting my socks here, I’ve hardly worn them. Do you think they feel lonely and unused? I honestly can say that I miss wearing them. But in this heat it’s impossible. Plus, sandals and socks, we all know where that gets you. Sorry socks = (

Zaimisms 1

Language, Life, Morocco, Travel

I have a teacher at school. He’s called Si Zaim. He says things like

‘Not to do your homework in the shower, neither the kitchen’


Which in fairness to the man, does make fairly good sense, because you wouldn’t want soggy homework now, would you. I now have a page of my workbook exclusively devoted to Zaimisms. Here are two more, and doubtless this will become a regular feature of my blog.

‘I will not mix salad with couscous’ – why, I hear you ask? Because in the mind of Zaim, where salad is الجملة اليسمية and couscous is المرفوع, we shouldn’t mix up our topics or we’ll get confused (or a bad taste in our mouths)

Finally, I really don’t want to explain this one, because it is so priceless by itself.
‘Good morning, Hello Hello, the old university? Goodbye’


That was prettymuch my class today. I’ve made it home to a house being cleaned and some loud Arabic being spoken in the living room. I’ve also been informed we’re going to ‘DO THINGS’ this afternoon. No catchup for me on sleep, clearly. Wish me luck.