Category Archives: Rant

No…Seriously?

As you all probably gather, I get pretty stressed out sometimes. When I do, having a bit of time to just chill out is amazing.This weekend was supposed to be chill-out. We were having a class trip to Casablanca to celebrate two 21st birthdays by going clubbing in the evening of Friday and then shopping in the day of Saturday (especially for those non-clubbing types)

Everything that could go wrong, or weird, went wrong.

Dramatis Personae
Me
L – a classmate
A – birthday boy
N – birthday girl
P – another classmate
H – a Moroccan friend

Act 1
We began at midday yesterday, when class had finished. The plan was for us to eat couscous together and then head off. P had rented a car, as had N’s boyfriend, and then H had space in his car for the rest of us. N wanted to leave at about 1, since the drive is four hours, but P wanted to wait until 3, since that is when H was getting here.
We enjoyed our couscous, and then began the series of wacky events. Firstly, everyone unexpectedly left me.  I was fine just chilling with some American friends, but did start wondering what was going on towards 2ish, when N and her carful still hadn’t left. Evidently it was just an issue of motivation, because they left at 3. Unfortunately, without checking with the rest of the group.
This caused problems, because H had brought along 4 friends. Which meant that the 3 spaces we needed had been taken. We went about hiring a second car, which involved a lot of time, a lot of waiting, a lot of phone-calls (off my phone) and we finally came to the conclusion that I needed to go home, get my passport (being the only other owner of both passport and drivers licence) and then go to the rental. Where the money had already been paid. At this point we felt it was a bit silly, but it got worse.
H had used P’s rental car to go and find out about the second rental car. And P’s car broke down. So we were now 2 cars paid out, with neither of them actually with us. At this point, A decided it wasn’t worth it. Of the group that was left only 4 of us were the clubbing type, and it was now 5pm, meaning we couldn’t make it to Casa before sunset. We told H.

Act 2
H decided he could give 4 of us a lift, one of his friends having found another car. Only 3 wanted to go, A, L, and me. We waited around for the second car, but due to the driver deciding to stop off and buy a laptop (I kid you not) we decided that in order to make it to Casa in reasonable time we would sit 4 in the back of the one car we had. We set off at 6:30, with H, A, L and me all squeezed into the back.
The journey was full of bizarre music, including Hanson, and the occasional moment of either me or L, the two smallest, ducking into the footwell so that the police didn’t see us. Oh, and a bottle of red wine. We stopped off at a roadside café and were serenaded by some berber musicians who kindly included all of our names in their song, courtesy of H. All this time we were in contact with N trying desperately to find out where we were supposed to meet. At 10:00pm, as we hit Casablanca, we were told to go to Tamaris.
Tamaris is a beach town about 25km south of Casablanca. It would take us another hour. And rather than staying with friends we were paying 600dh. But whatever. We stopped at a cousins flat, and got changed into our party clothes there. It was all a bit creepy, and by this time A and L were quite worried about how the night was going. At 10:30 we got some bad news. N and her crew had decided they weren’t going clubbing. H said he could find us a place to stay, and we could still go. A was still up for it, so we said yes.

Act 3
We drove back into town, now 7 in the car, with 5 in the back, to get keys to a cousin’s (a different one) flat. It was unfurnished. At this point A cracked, and said he’d pay me and L into a nice hotel and have done. We still had s bottle of vodka, and we could have made it a good night. Then, a miracle. N had decided they would come out. We got dropped at a dodgy beachside KFC, and walked to a café to wait for them. It was 1am.
In the café A and I had beer, while L began on her sprite and vodka, in a covert operation to mix it without anyone seeing. A got offered a variety of substances by H’s mate (the laptop-purchaser) who had finally caught up, but he sensibly refused. N called us to join them at Carré Rouge, or Red Square Nightclub. We went to meet her, and drop all of our bags into her car.
When we got there we found them outside waiting. We needed to pay either 200dh each, or 300dh each and get a bottle of vodka between 6 of us. In Morocco clubs sell by the whole spirit bottle, and not by the glass, because drinking is illegal for Muslims. A had already paid when we realised that the bouncer wouldn’t let H in. We asked for a reason, and there was none. He had just decided. Nothing we could offer, including buying a full bottle EACH, would change his mind. I got A’s money back, and we all left.
Finally we made our way to Havana Club (like the rum) which let us in for free, and played decent music. A bought a bottle of vodka between us all and we danced the night away until 3:30am (so, about half an hour). Then we were chased out, and hopped in the car to go home.

Act 4
At this point, there were 7 English/Americans in the car, and two Moroccans outside of it. We said goodbye to H and drove off. N was feeling sick, and A and L were just very jolly, which made us being pulled over by the police even more fun. I don’t know if anyone has tried fitting 7 people into a Kia Picanto, but it’s no easy work. Especially when the driver (N’s bf) is tall, and so has to have his seat all the way back. We had one sitting on anothers lap in the front passenger seat, and then three in the back with a fourth lying across them.
The policeman seemed surprised we had 7 people in the car. He told us it was insured for 5. When me and A got out to get a taxi, he told us to get back in. He welcomed us to Morocco, and we bribed him an incredibly expensive 100dh coffee to let us off. Which he did.
We made it back to the beach house at about 4:30am. A and L wanted to see the beach, and no-one had the energy to stop them. N was still feeling pukey, so we let her do her thing. I curled up into a little ball, on a tiny chair. We had a phone call from A and L saying that they were being chased by a rabid dog, so two people went out to find them. They were fine, but had got lost. Music was played, drugs were smoked by some, and then we slept. At about 5:30am. At this point I’d been awake for a full 23 hours.
I woke up at 7am to find E, another friend, staring at me from the sofa opposite. It was freaky. I fell back to sleep and then woke at 8 to the same thing. I considered saying something, but went back to sleep again instead.

Act 5
We woke around midday. A, L, E and I wanted to get the train back to Fes at 3:15, but we wanted to see the beach first. After a bit of hassling we left at about 1:30. We took in some sea breeze, which certain members of the group really needed to fight their hang-overs. We headed back to the beach house at about 2.
Everyone else had left. We waited for them, and waited. They made it back at 2:15, and we began trying to head up into Casa. Let’s not forget we’re 25km south of the city anyway at this point. After much pushing we finally left the house at about 2:30. N’s boyfriend drove like mad, and we made it to the train station in time to run past the ticket office and onto the train. We paid on board.
The train journey went smoothly. We arrived back in Fes at 6:30, exactly 24 hours after setting off. A and L waited with me for a taxi. L finally grabbed one, and I waved goodbye. My taxi driver was very talky, and very creepy, but I was too tired to notice. He dropped me off home without any arguments.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am never going on a fun/relaxing weekend away ever again.

Oh, and I got a mosquito bite on my nose.

A polite notice to Moroccan drivers

Hello there. If you are reading this then you drive in Morocco.I don’t expect you to know how to drive. Or even have a driving licence. And you certainly never wear a seatbelt. I know all these things, and I can tolerate them, but there are certain things which I just can’t handle when I walk home from school.

This is a polite notice to Moroccan drivers. Sort this out or I will key your car.

1) Indicators

  • To point out; to discover; to direct to a knowledge of; to show; to make known; To show or manifest by symptoms; to point to as the proper remedies; as, great prostration of strength indicates the use of stimulants; To signal in a vehicle the desire to turn right or left; To investigate the …
This is what Google defines as ‘indicating’. Allow me to draw your attention to the highlighted section. It’s very simple. You use those little flashing lights to show when you are turning. If you are not turning, then there is no need to have them on. It is, in fact, incredibly misleading. I can forgive the odd slip in turning without indicating, but there is no reason on Earth to indicate and then not turn. None at all.
2) Doors
This is mostly directed at taxi drivers. Doors are the four entrances into your car. In the same way as the door of your house, these are occasionally expected to close and stay closed. Please try to refrain from driving down the road with a passenger still trying to close the door. It is dangerous. It scares me.
3) Brakes
Most Moroccans are well used to using their brakes. I just want to make you aware that they are not meant to squeal whenever you use them. That is neither a good sign, nor normal. Your brakes probably squeal because you use them too violently because you seem to think you’re the only person on the road. Please have someone check your brakes.
Thank you for your patience and cooperation. And I am serious, I will key your car.

Be Mine

90% of the people I know are Valentines haters. I think it’s so sad, because for all the reasons they come up with, they could still enjoy Valentines Day, but choose not to. Some of the top reasons why people hate Valentines Day are:

They are single
They are in a relationship, but cheap
They are in a relationship with a person who’s cheap
They are eternally in love with the sparkly vampire from ‘Twilight’ and he doesn’t love them

The reason they all CLAIM they dislike this celebration is

“It’s a consumerist and tacky way to take people’s money”


Which, it has to be said, is true. But it’s not why you actually hate Valentines day, so don’t say it. You are ruining other people’s happiness. And aside from that, there is no need to be a hater. Just adjust the holiday to suit you. Regardless of what anyone says, even the Scroogiest of us secretly likes these silly holidays, so just find a way to enjoy it.

Use it as an excuse to show the people who you love that you love them. Send a card to your Mum, or give some chocolate to a friend (that’s what I did this year). Valentines might technically be the ‘Couple’s holiday’ but there is no reason not to change it to the day where you really appreciate the relationships you have with the people in your life, and show them how much you care.

Haters, don’t be hatin.

Things revision makes me want to do

1) Eat chocolate – which I can’t do firstly because I don’t have any and secondly because even if I did, I’m trying to lose weight.

2) Exercise – which I can’t do because I have a workout video which, while it is awesome, is slowly ripping my muscles into little pieces meaning I can’t move.

3) Sleep – I could do this, but then I’d be awake later. Silly.

4) Watch TV – I am doing this, and am hugely aware that it’s not aiding my revision attempts at all. Bad times.

5) Watch films – I started with M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Happening”. Not a massive fan.

6) Wash my clothes – this one is clearly procrastination because hand-washing clothes isn’t fun for anyone. Especially me, because I’m bad at it.

7) Blog – also achieved. Also not helped me with my work at all.

Gah.

Home

I am feeling unreasonable animosity towards the herd of British people on Facebook who are insistently rubbing my face in the fact that there is ridiculous snow over there. Today Ryanair cancelled all flights into London, which is a bad precedent for little old me, flying tomorrow.

I have to be honest, being stuck here wouldn’t be terrible. Sure, I’d not enjoy not seeing my family after being away for three months, and it would be rubbish to not see The Boy, but I am lucky enough to have a lovely adoptive family here, who will do all they can to make me being unexpectedly stranded bearable. So to be honest I’m just preparing myself for that eventuality now.

Having said that, I have to take a second to remind everyone that I DON’T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE SNOW. In the nicest way possible.

المضارع المرفوع و المنصوب

Predictably, I have homework, which I am not doing.

I should probably stop retreating here every time I get work which I’m not keen on. Today the reason I am not keen on working is fairly straightforward, and it is that I am annoyed about my class (again). I got my most recent test back, and I got 30.25 out of 40. Now as an optimist I look at that and see 75%, which is a 1st by our University grading system. But all the same, I was worried to have missed out on an entire quarter of the marks, so I asked the teacher if he thought I was working at the right level.

He told me I had the second highest mark in the class.

Then later, everyone had their hissy fit about the speed of the lessons once again. Now, I can sympathise, because we are going slowly. But equally, we’re not getting high marks in the tests, by anyone’s standards. This is not an isolated incident, and it seems like some people just need to wake up and realise that until the class starts taking in the material, there is no point in moving any faster. Why work on harder material when we can’t even master the basics?

Consequently I am annoyed with our work today. Our homework is the present tense. The present tense. The tense I am presently using, the first tense which any language student learns in any language. I am finding the exercises quite spun-out, but I know that I am having to think which is good. What annoys me, is that tomorrow, half the class will not have bothered with the homework.

I think I need to sit back and count my blessings again!

Ill

I’m worried I might be making myself ill. Not entirely sure how, but I am certainly getting worse by the day. Here are my symptoms.

1) Achey Eyes
2) Snuffy Nose
3) Achey Limbs and Joints
4) Constant Tiredness

Sounding worryingly like the start of the ‘flu to me. Worst thing is, I can’t lie in bed, because typically I have a test today, and a test tomorrow. And a test on friday. So no naps, no relaxing. Revision is important.

I’m not up for it at all and I honestly can’t wait until next week when we have three days off school for Eid. I will explain more on that later, but it basically means I might be out of touch from Wednesday to Sunday next week, and that’s a long time, and here is calming.

Why can’t I just go back to bed? Ugh.

Habiba

Habiba is our new femme de menage (I hate the word ‘maid’). I’ve not spoken to her yet, but she scares me a lot. Mounia was friendly but quiet unless it was acceptable. Habiba strikes me as the type to command and be obeyed. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow night alone with her. Bad times.

Aside from this, I have a statement to make to all those students in my class. This is in no way personal, but I felt like I was going to burst earlier, because everyone had another mammoth complaint session.

1) If you have not attended every class this year, you have no right to say Si Zaim is teaching us too slowly. You appreciated it when you had to catch up.
2) If you did not attend every class last year, you have no right to claim you didn’t learn anything. Maybe you missed all the important lectures. That is your own fault, and no-one elses.
3) Unless you have 100% in a quiz this year, you cannot claim we are not learning anything, or that we are only covering what was covered last year. Clearly you needed to, otherwise you’d be getting full marks on every quiz.
4) If you ever ask for vocabulary, you have no right to go around saying other people don’t try hard enough to learn it.
5) If you want something to happen, go and do it rather than complaining about it. An example being today when I was the person to go find our teacher once our break was over, while everyone else sat and complained. If you have a problem, go and fix it.
6) If you act like a serious student you will be treated as one. If people always turned up, revised at home and did their homework, and didn’t abuse the breaks we are given, then we would be going a lot more quickly, and we wouldn’t be being treated like five year olds.

FINALLY

7) Independence. It is up to you. If you want to learn really good spoken Arabic, go out and find a study partner. If you want to read well, practice reading longer pieces. Read the news and translate it for translation. If you don’t get what you want out of your degree, it is no fault but your own. Lecturers are facilitators and nothing else. Stop expecting to be handed a 1st on a plate, it is a ‘higher education’ qualification for a reason, and that is that it’s harder than school and you have to want it.

Come on guys, please. It’s just painful listening to you bitch.

Yowm Taweel.

Hello and welcome to my rant about how ridiculously long my day has been so far.

It is now 4pm and I’m about to start another two hours of class. Which would be fine if I’d had a break in the middle, but I haven’t on account of stuff. So basically I woke up (as I said earlier) at stupidly-late-o’clock ran for a taxi, got to school and sat through two hours of reading. Which was quite good, but I was tired, and greasy. And then we got our writing pieces back in writing, which is good in that I did well, and poor in that we spent two hours on corrections which didn’t apply to everyone. Some stuff was interesting, some wasn’t.

Incidentally, have you heard of DHMO? If not then you should google it and check out dhmo.org. It has some really interesting information, which I was telling my classmates about. There is one really important fact which you might not see right away. If you’re confused about what this is, ask, and I’ll let you know.

Then I had green fruit salad and a bitch for lunch, which was nice, but not conducive to me learning Arabic in any way. Nice to just have some time to chill with friends though, because as you know, I don’t do that a lot. So now I have class again, and will have to leave.

I’ll give you another good blog to read later, but only if you’re nice.

Things I think about people: When Travelling

I have to start this post by explaining that, as with Things I think about people: In Class it is not that I personally dislike these people or am casting aspersions as to their personality. I think everyone is nice, which I have been told is a weak point in my personality. I just often dislike their attitude or actions.

Such is the case with some of the people I have travelled with over the past six days. So here are the travelling habits which I love, followed by a few I dislike.

LIKES

1) Chatty travellers. This is an interesting one. I personally love being chatted to, especially when I’m travelling alone, because it stops me from getting lonely. I scored a few of these this weekend, starting with Dave and Patrick the American guys who I met on my flight from Fes. On the way back I met Charlie, a three-year old who was keen to share his etch-a-sketch. I appreciate these people a lot.

2) Travellers who don’t mind asking. I like these people because (rather selfishly) it makes me feel so good when I can help someone. I was asked for so much help this weekend that I think I must just have a helpful face. I feel great when someone asks me for help, so I always appreciate it.

3) Business travellers. This applies specifically to train-travel. Business travellers always have reserved seats and they always know exactly where to get onto the train. And they get on with work in a very organised way, because they’re used to the constrictions which come with train travel on a regular basis.

DISLIKES


1) Singers. That is to say, children who insist on singing. When you’re on a plane flying over France, there is little you can do to get away from the 52nd chorus of ‘Waka Waka’ that flight. I am not a rude person, and therefore couldn’t bring myself to tell them to shut up. I wish I had though.

2) Bolshy travellers. If you’re new to the word ‘bolshy’ it is practically onomatopoeic. It means passengers who think they are the most important thing and are all about throwing their weight around. In their case almost always, the customer is not right. On my outbound flight there was a gentleman who hadn’t been able to put the handle down on his cabin bag. He was told it was too large for the overhead compartment. Mayhem ensued as he tried to defy the hostess (who was, of course, right) I offered up the space below my seat to store it, but because of the handle it wouldn’t fit. Eventually after much childishness, the bag went into the hold. It was very unnecessary for everyone involved.

3) Seat-stealers. Once again I am referring to train travel here. Because train tickets in the UK are so expensive, I always buy my tickets online in advance, to cut the price. This means I always have a reservation, which is great when I find myself on a particularly busy train. However, sometimes I get hit by the seat-stealers. These are the chancers who see a reserved seat and hope that the person who reserved it does not come. While they are always polite enough when I do show up, they do make me feel bad and they do make everyone’s life more difficult. If I can read a reservation slip, I don’t see why they can’t.