Saturday 27 August 2011

Highs and lows...

This week has been a mixture of highs and lows. We have furthered our knowledge of the area, and have got more to grips with language, shopping and bargaining. We have found another good hotel for visitors, a realistically affordable one for those who don't work as lawyer/banker/accountant, and a pool where we can pay £5 to spend the day sunbathing. Granted the number of kids and pumping Arabic music takes some of the relaxation element away but tanning by the pool is still always going to hit a high with me. We have also had a bit of an awesome week on the food front, with the discovery of some incredible local dishes, as well as some hits (and of course the occasional miss) from the in house chef's experimention (that'll be me).

As with all facets of life, where there are highs there are lows. Our progress in school is slow. I feel like I have managed to waste two very useful weeks doing little. As we are walking into a school that was previously teaching the French curriculum, we are having to not only learn a new curriculum (American), but also implement everything from scratch. This doesn't sound too difficult, but for most new teachers (or old but new in our case), when you walk into a new job there is at least some structure in place for you to build on and develop. We are having to plan out the entire sequence. A sequence that is not just for a one year rotation but two. We have our students for two years, as we teach two grades. Our boss has been great and given us quite a lot of help and some professional development already, but having never done this before it is really hard to know where to start. In Thailand we started where the textbook started. Now we don't have textbooks, which is fine, but it leaves little in the way of direction. So far I have managed to make my classroom look pretty. But not that pretty, as yet we have no access to printer, limited colour paper, and only one tiny roll of sellotape. All the supplies have been ordered, and hopefully will arrive soon, along with interactive whiteboards, projectors, a whiteboard for me and bookshelves for Nick; inshallah (the locals response to many things delayed or challenging, literally meaning 'god willing'). On a plus side I do have a computer and speakers in my classroom for the first time. Just need a teachers desk to put it on now.

Another positive is that the roofers finally seem to have finished. Gone is the 6am dawn chorus of chirpy Arabic shouting joined with cacophony of hammers. Instead this has been replaced by a further Ramadan related negative (along with the fact that we are now 24 days sober), in that for many evenings this week there have been entire families playing on the playground in the U-shaped courtyard until 3.30am. This is not helping to endear our neighbours and future students to us.

Outside from the school stuff and the irritating positioning of the playground, life is getting better. It is not as blisteringly hot as before and the more we find out about the area the easier life is. Every weekend there is a traveling souq (market) that sets up on the outskirts of town about a kilometre from our apartment. Here farmers selling piles of fruit and veg, herbs, spices, and general kitchen tat arrange themselves inside a large boulder-strewn compound area with old disused livestock pens around the outside. The first day we went we wasted about an hour wandering around all the stalls looking at the incredible amount of junk available. You can find everything from old pressure cookers, pots and pans to washing machines, vacuums and even desktop computers. We bought a second (or fifth) hand iron for about $5. Obviously it didn't work when we got home, but hey, what did we really expect. At least it was a reasonably cheap lesson to learn. While the household equipment is best left there, the fruit, veg, herbs and spices are fantastic. Waste high piles of bright yellow honey melons, watermelons the length of your arm, and more peaches, grapes and figs than you can imagine. Last week we came home with four kilos of fruit and veg and more fresh coriander and parsley than we could ever use, all for the princely sum of $6.

Our weekly shop. We have to wash all the dust
and people's hand prints off.

A random pic from Ifrane market


It is a good job that vegetables are so cheap, as meat is not. One turkey breast fillet costs about $4. Granted it is enormous and feeds us for about two weeks when used sparingly. In the last few weeks I have made a great new discovery of cooking with spices. This is Morocco after all... land of the freshly ground spice. It is a country frequently depicted with colourful images of spices stalls and buying them is an onslaught on a number of senses. Instead of buying our spices locally, we get a grande taxi to Azrou twenty minutes away. This is a mountain Berber town famous for its ethnic hand woven carpets, fresh trout and spices. Walking into a spice merchants and choosing ingredients from their large barrels to be freshly ground while you wait is quite an experience. I now have more than I know what to do with or jars to store. As well as coming back from Azrou with spices, we have bought our first rug. Well two actually. These bright orange and red rugs are the local Berber colours, and although we opted for the cheap thin versions rather than the thick wool rugs, they brighten up our empty white corridor.

 


















One of the things I was most looking forward to about coming here was the food. I have loved tajines and cous-cous for years, and wanted to try the authentic versions. Our first sample was incredibly disappointing and gave me rise to the thought that as with some other ethnic cuisines the westernised versions are tastier. Last week our house lady came for the first time and as well as cleaning, one of her tasks is to cook a Moroccan dish for us. She made us a beef and date tajine. It has to be one of the best meals I have ever eaten. Sadly I have no idea how on earth she got it to the flavour or thickness she did, but I'm going to try and get a lesson off her. We have yet to eat and pass judgment on authentic Morrocan cous-cous as they only ever eat it on Fridays apparently, and not during Ramadan.

Because we have a more limited access to food here than we have had anywhere else we have lived, I am being a lot more adventurous with my cooking. I've always been an ok cook and can do many dishes, but have always relied on pre-made pastes for things like tajines and curries. Now I'm being forced for the first time in my life to make things from raw ingredients. I made chicken bangalore a couple of days ago using a combination of twelve ingredients to make the paste. It was by far the best curry I've ever made. No more lazy meals for me.

We have also been trying lots of the breads and pastries that are so popular at Ramadan. They are served at Ftor (breaking of the fast) each day. During this meal people eat carbohydrate rich foods often packed with sugar to quickly restore energy and calories after fasting. There are a variety of these, but the most common meal is Milwhe (roti type bread), served with a cold boiled egg with cumin and salt, a few dates and a sticky sugar, honey and sesame seed laden chewy pastry called shebekkia (very fattening but so good we've had to buy some for our daily sweet treat). This comes with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a glass of hot-sweet mint tea, and a bowl of chickpea, lentil and beef soup. This meal is eaten most evenings by locals here. They eat this at soon as the fast breaks, then go and pray before returning to the restaurants to eat tajines and other heavier dishes. It is common for people to be out and about eating and doing shopping at around 10.00-11.00pm. Some people stay up all night eating, hence the 3.30am playground visits.

On a last foody note, we tried pastilla for the first time the other day. Another famous Moroccan food, this is a filo pie stuffed with spices, meat and fruit. We had a chicken one for lunch and we weren't quite prepared for how sweet it was. Now I know I've lived in Thailand for six years where they put condensed milk on toast and sugar on scrambled eggs, but thats nothing compared to this. It is quite disconcerting to sit down to eat a chicken pie and think that it's lacking a large dollop of custard. Not sure about this delicacy.

Shebekkia and pastilla

Saturday 20 August 2011

Ifrane and around...

During our first few days at school we have been given a crash course in Moroccan history, traditions, and general way of life. The first of our discussions was about Ramadan. Now I thought I’d done pretty well with my google research, and was quite proud of my efforts to be culturally aware. What I failed to discover in my research is that during Ramadan all people are expected to dress more conservatively than normal. Having spent the first few days with long trousers and sleeves I observed that some local women wore vest tops, shorts or skirts, unaware that as it was before Ramadan this was fine. As a result of this I have occasionally worn shorts, sleeveless tops and fitted Lycra 3/4 length trousers to run around the compound. Little did I know that I have now probably offended nearly every person I have passed in the last week or so. The realisation of this came along with an even worse realisation that when I had been out running I had been taking a bottle of water out with me to keep on a wall and drink on each lap round the compound. This has been before sundown each evening and when many families are out for their evening walk. How, after being so careful each day when out and about the town could I have been so oblivious that I forgot I still couldn't drink water in the evening. It is actually illegal in Morocco to consume food or drink in public during this time. I have not only been dressing inappropriately in front of the parents of my students, I have also broken the law. Yes, few cultural boo boos there then. Good start all round.

As well as learning more about Morocco we have been learning some Arabic. This is a language that has so guttural arrah! sounds that it has to use a 3, 7 and a 9 when it is written phonetically. Nick seems to be grasping it pretty quickly, as usual. Whereas I am experiencing that same blush inducing fear that I always felt when in a language classroom. I’m going to focus on my French for now.

For two of the three afternoons that we have been in school we have been taken out to explore. Our coordinator Kim and her Moroccan husband are going well beyond the call of duty to help us settle in. As well as taking us out for ftor (the breaking of the fast meal) on the first evening, they have driven us around Ifrane and the neighbouring town of Azrou. While exploring Ifrane we went up to see the recently refurbished Michiflin Resort. This is five star luxury at its best, well beyond our price bracket, but a treat for an occasional meal or spa day. http://www.michlifenifrane.com/eng.html The restaurant, spa, pool and view definitely rival that of Bangkok's top hotels, and a main meal in the brasserie costs from $12-$18, an affordable treat. 


The next day after our tour of Ifrane, Kim and her husband, Mustafa, took us on a two car tour of the surrounding countryside. We are in the Middle Atlas Mountains which are at around 1600 metres above sea-level. Although the area directly around Ifrane is quite flat, the journey 16km to the neighbouring town of Azrou is quite hilly. On the way there we learnt more about the history of the area, Mustafa is part of one of the most powerful Berber tribal families in the area and still has a very grand house with land and orchards which we drove past. This is a fruit growers heaven; peaches, apples, pears and cherries are everywhere. I have never eaten so much fruit. It's about 60% of our diet at the moment. We went up into the National Park area to the Grand Cedar, a huge and now dead cedar tree that has become a tourist hot spot. Here every car gets accosted by men touting horse rides on highly decorated Arab horses. There were also lots of little wooden shacks that were closed up, presumably normally selling lots of the same tourist tat. This is a mineral and fossil rich area and people sell them everywhere. As well as going there to have their photo taken in front of the depressingly dead and graffitied 'grande cedre', many tourists go up into the forest to feed the Barbary apes that live there. Once wild, they have become tame from being hand fed plums for so many years. Obviously sick of 'Ramadan restraint', one of the apes decided to try and pull Kim's skirt down. Sadly, along with the 'tame' wildlife, one of the most noticeable things about the area and the beautiful cedar forest was the large amount of trash everywhere. People here haven't developed the same level of environmental appreciation as we've become used to in the countryside. Just wait till I start teaching... time to do some environmental awareness brainwashing.


Sunday 14 August 2011

The School of Ifrane

15 days and counting until the end of Ramadan. Well, it could be 15, or it could be 16 depending on when the new moon is seen, but at this point, when we are only 12 days in and I am most definitely feeling it, I like to try and look on the optimistic side. I just can't wait for life to return to normal. The other day we went out for a walk to explore some of the back streets around town. We ended up getting lost and walking a lot further than intended, mind you bonus was we did find the pub: a pretty but run-down building overlooking the lake. It looks similar to everything else out here only it had a hallowed beer sign out the front....15 days.... Anyway, after getting lost on our walk in 36 degree dry heat, unable to drink any water, I was hit badly by dehydration. Now for those who know me well, I’m not one for needing much water, and have got by on less than a litre most days whatever the climate. I have occasionally felt slightly parched and assumed I was dehydrated, but that was nothing compared to what happened after getting lost that day. It may have had something to do with the fact that I had been running for the two evenings before and failed to rehydrate properly (dry heat at 1650 metres above sea level apparently takes a little more toll on the body than I’m used to), but for about four hours afterwards I was queasy, weak, and very dizzy. It took a long time for the effect of liquid replenishment to kick in.

Watching the roofers who have been working on replacing the tiles and waterproofing on all the apartment blocks at work only make me feel more of a pathetic weakling. I walked around for a few hours without water and became a swooning wreck. These guys work in the blistering sun, without shade, without food, and more importantly, without any water since 5.30 am. They walk/slide around twenty metres above the ground without any form of rope or security. God help them if they get a case of the dehydration dizzies. While I have the utmost respect for them I am getting rather tired of being woken up between 5.45 – 6. 00 am. by hammering and overly cheerful shouting. I have also found myself running across the kitchen to hide when they unexpectedly appear on the roof opposite and I’m only dressed in T-Shirt and underwear. This morning I got up early in search of a cool breeze and stretched out on the sofa bed next to the lounge window to read, only to look up after a while to find a man perched on the edge of the overhang about two metres away from me and with full view of my 'inappropriate' dress. 


A few days ago we went into the school for the first time. Our apartment is less than fifty metres from the entrance. I foresee many last minute roll outs from bed in the near future. The school is slightly run down at the moment and had the decorators working. It has big open spaces with thirty feet vaulted ceilings. The classrooms are a reasonable size and are very colourful, but at the moment they lack any form of creature comforts. They are just empty canvasses. All those posters I lovingly made and left behind in Bangkok would be really useful right now.

The students at the school range from two years old to eighteen years old. This year there are only 86 students enrolled. About sixty of them are in the primary section. I have fouteen. This year there are no Grade 9 students. The aim is to increase the size of the school but it will take time. We will be following an American/International Curriculum, and in this town many feel that the stricter and more regulated French system is preferable. Ifrane School was changed to the French system five years ago at the request of the parents as they felt the American system too soft. The University (which the school is part of) was apparently instructed by the king that they had to revert to the old system, which is why we are here. We now have to get the students back on track for an international education.
While in the school we met with the other new teachers for the first time. There were six of us in all, including our new boss who is a lady from America who has lived here for 28 years. One lady is Moroccan but has spent the last fifteen years in New York, another Italian but has lived in Ifrane for five years, and then the last is a young Canadian girl who is here with her partner who has never really travelled before. It must be quite a shock to the system. Myself, Nick and Sarah the Canadian girl make up the entire elementary department. Thankfully we were given free reign over choice of grades. I had been put down for the five year olds, which I wasn't really thrilled about, but Sarah loves the little ones so was keen to swap. I now have Grade 1-2 and Nick 3-4. In Australia I really loved teaching the older kids, but here I think my lack of French would make it hard for the switch over to English at that level. After teaching native speakers I’m quite nervous about going back to ESL. Hopefully it's a bit like riding a bike.


Monday 8 August 2011

Cabin Fever

I seem to be suffering badly from cabin fever at the moment. We have been here for thirteen days without really having anything to do other than read and watch TV programs that we downloaded before we came out here. I am beginning to go a little stir crazy.

It is Ramadan at the moment. This is the time of year that Muslims abstain from eating, drinking and any impure thoughts during the hours of daylight. It is meant to instil self control and an appreciation for the suffering of others. Ramadan lasts just under a month, and each year starts ten days earlier. This means that in 34 years a complete cycle of the year will have been made. Unfortunately for those in the Northern Hemisphere this means that for now and the next ten years or so, Ramadan is taking place during summer and the longest and hottest days of the year. For people in Morocco, they have to wake up and eat before 5.30 am and then last through the 35 degree dry heat of the day without a drop of water or food, before being able to break the fast after 7.30 pm. For Muslims in the north of England, this means fasting for almost 16 hours every day.

Before Ramadan Ifrane was a bustling little tourist town with a great café culture. Now either they have closed completely or they only open at 7.30 in the evening. This has put an end to our daily time killer of wandering into town and watching the world go by over a coffee. Now the streets are really quiet. Some die-hards still sit in the cafés, only it feels a bit strange to me without any food or drink. Instead we find ourselves just hanging out at home all day and night. I’ve had to change the chair I sit on in the lounge just so I have another wall to face... having a different view worked surprisingly well. If it was not the height of summer here we would not have these concerns. There is lots of exploring to be done... the two imperial cities of Fes and Meknes are only an hour away, we have a lakes area about 25km away, and there is lots of hiking and forest walking. All good, but just not practical at 35 degrees. We only came this early as we have were told our new contract started on the 1st as we have lots of planning to do (actually not starting until the 10th), next year we'll make sure we're occupied with something elsewhere!


At the end of last week we went down to Fes for our first exploration of the medina. This huge and ancient medina in Fes is thought to be the largest continuous car free area in the world. Surrounded by a high fortress style wall with gated arch-ways, it's narrow, winding alleys full of mosques, riads, shops and houses covers an area of around 15 square km. It is said that up to 400,000 people live within the medina walls, and it is home to the world's oldest university. Parts date back to 800 AD, and the 'new' part is a mere 900 years old. This is a place that I have longed to visit for around ten years. When we decided to make a trip down there during the height of summer, at the start of Ramadan when people are tired, hungry and grumpy, I didn't hold up many hopes for it reaching high on the enjoyment scale. All the information you can find on the place tells you just how crowded and hot the narrow alleys can be, how you have to watch out for getting harangued by wily salesmen (possibly the most highly skilled in the world at selling you things you had no intention of buying) and getting squashed by foot carts and overladen donkeys. Oh yeah, and the chances of you not getting lost are minimal. Needless to say we expected the worst.
  















We arrived at the medina at around 11.00. Many of the shops were still closed and the streets were quiet and surprisingly cool. The first thing that really hits you about the place is the hills. Not only do you have to deal with alleys shooting of in every direction, you also have to deal with climbing up and down steep hills. We must have dropped 100 metres in the first fifteen minutes. By the time we got to the bottom of the hill our legs juddered every time we stopped to look at something. We followed the main alleys for a couple of kilometres. The further you go in the narrower they get. The majority of stuff in the medina is transported by donkey. These poor overladen creatures are pushed through the crowds of people with boxes and bags strapped across them. Thankfully I haven't seen any of the horror story cruelty yet, but all of them lead a pretty hard life. Shopping was a lot easier than expected. We were hassled very little and in many shops when we tried to bargain we were stone-walled, even when we walked out they just said 'so be it, see you again' or something similar. All in all the experience was quite enjoyable. It was 42 degrees out in the sun, and it did get busy, but we didn't get lost, or run over by a donkey, or convinced to buy an 8ft antique carpet or giant lantern we didn't need. We did come home with two mirrors and four smaller lanterns, but the were definitely intentional purchases. Well, nearly all of them were anyway.


Friday 5 August 2011

Our new home

When we moved to Ifrane, we were told that for four days we would be in temporary accommodation until our contract started and our apartment became available. We had been informed that Nick was entitled to a one-bed fully furnished apartment, I was apparently entitled to nothing and just had to go along with what was given to Nick. It's these small things that remind you that you are in quite a sexist country. I had already made the decision that I would stand my ground and demand a two bed apartment. There are two of us, we are both employed by the school, we know from the info and arrival document that single people have requested two bed apartments.
After one day in our temporary accommodation we were told to go and meet the man in charge of housing as our apartment was ready. I went in ready to put up a fight before I’d even seen what they were going to offer us. I was very polite but very firm but it didn't get us very far. We were told that at this time there was nothing else available, definitely didn't believe this, but very little I could do about it. When we first went up the dusty and cluttered stairwell to the top floor as we climbed the volume of a screaming child increased. We arrived to the top floor to find our future neighbour's had their door wide open while their child had a full blown tantrum. We had the misfortune of living opposite a family in Bangkok who put their little boy out in the echoey hall every time he cried. Needless to say this first impression was not great and slightly filled us with dread of future shattered peace. I walked into the apartment thinking up new arguments as to why we should be moved to a two bed apartment, I quickly swallowed these when I saw inside. While slightly dusty and grubby, with dated furniture, it has huge windows and tall wooden vaulted ceilings. It is bright and airy, the dated furniture is very comfy and can't wait to us our big open fire in winter. We even have a twin sofa bed (strange double level contraption). With a little strategic decoration we can make it very homely. This will just take time as we have a three hour round trip to go to any decent shops. My only small disappointment is the fact that as we face inwards into the U shaped courtyard of apartment buildings, we don't have a balcony. In reflection it is perhaps a good thing that there are no balconies on this side, sound really bounces between the buildings. Doors open onto balconies with lots of noise from kids would make it feel like we were living in a school yard. It is bad enough as it is. Have developed an unhealthy dislike for the kids that dare to play outside on occasion and disturb us with their noise. They are probably my students and I dislike them before I've even set foot in the school... perhaps not the best start.

We have eaten out a few times in the last week... so nice to be able to do that after the expense of Australia, food and drink there makes the UK feel cheap. Here it is only a little bit more pricey than Thailand. In Ifrane there are more cafés than shops but the food is of varying quality. Had our first tajine last night and were really disappointed. I make a better tajine that the Moroccan who made ours last night. Water, oil and very little seasoning. Is this going to be one of those times that the food is better elsewhere... like Chinese and Mexican?
It has been a little strange settling in. It is very very Arabic, although it's seems to be less male dominated here than in Egypt, least here you do see lots of women out and about shopping, eating and wearing a huge range of clothes (from strapless maxi dresses to full face black burkhas). It has just been a bit weird not knowing anyone. I have spoken English to two people other than Nick for about total of ten minutes over the last week. It gave me a strange sense of joy when the lady in the local shop asked us what we were doing here, wished us welcome, and then recognised us the next day... it was nice to have someone smile and say hello knowing we weren't just tourists, felt like we had made our first friend! The first few months in Thailand I was in the touristy areas so there were always people to chat with. Here it's very different, and apart from strolling around the markets and sitting in a café there is little to do. It is too hot to take advantage of the outdoor hiking and exploring at the moment.
We went up to the uni for the first time yesterday. It is Ramadan so there was hardly anyone about apart from a few die hard cleaners and gardeners. They need to be there to keep watering the lawns, which are immaculate, even at the height of a dry summer. Not sure where all the water comes from. We found the tennis courts, gym and an incredible indoor swimming pool. Can't wait for term to start so we can make use of everything. While we were there we went into the library to check out our options for English books (not sure how long our eight books that we managed to stuff into the sleeves of our jackets are going to last us at the rate we are reading at the moment. Thankfully, we found lots up in the eves of the library. Inside we met the librarian. He is our age and American and has been here nine months. He was very chatty and friendly and suggested getting together for dinner this week. He said when he arrived he lost five kilos in the first few months as he didn't have anyone to drink with. This month of Ramadan should do us some good then. He also said that there were other really nice people living in our building who we would meet when term starts. Nice to know.

Wednesday 3 August 2011

Village life...

Well, it's been just under a week since we arrived. Has it been everything we expected or has it been a shock to the system? Yes to both. Well, it has exceeded expectations in many ways, but it has also been a HUGE shock to the system and has brought a few moments of panic and silent thoughts of' what an earth have we done?' After driving up from Fes on the first evening, we wound our way up an incline and into the start of a cedar forest, all the time getting excited by the red-roofed chalets of the university that peek out through the trees marking the entrance of Ifrane. We pulled in at the university so the driver could find out what to do with us as we had no idea where we were supposed to go, and apparently neither did he. Sitting in the car while he consulted the security guard, we were completely enveloped by that warm pine forest smell that instantly takes me back to childhood holidays in Europe. It was about 19 degrees C outside. I felt like a kid again.

We were driven across town to the off campus residences. On the way we passed streets that were swamped in people; walking along the pavements; sitting on every bench and having photos taken of themselves with the large stone carving of a lion which is the town mascot. I thought it must have been some kind of festival but apparently it was just the fact that most of Morocco like to come up here for their summer holiday to escape the heat of the other cities. When we reached our temporary accommodation they also had no idea what to do with us, but kindly gave us a room for the night. It was sparse with no aircon or fan. We went to sleep with the window open, the smell of French holidays, and the sound of pumping music and cheers coming from the holiday camp next door. For an alcohol free culture, sounded like they sure know how to party.

In the morning we failed to get hold of anyone else who knew what to do with us so decided to go explore and find some of those long dreamed about pain au chocolat. We caught the free uni shuttle bus downtown and found the town square. It sounds grand, and while it is very pretty, it is tiny. There are about four restaurants, two supermarkets and a couple of banks. This is the sum total of the shopping experience in la centre ville. We found ourselves a street table in the shade and enjoyed breakfast of two cafe au lait and pain au chocolat for the princely sum of about $2.50. it is such a relief to finally be back in a place where we can afford to live. Managed to get three French phrases in that paragraph, I am trying. Taking daily French lessons on my MP3 Player.


Sitting overlooking the square was a bit weird, and it was at this point when I first had a bit of a culture shock. While the surroundings, a lot of the food, and some of the language is French, the people are definitely not. It is an Arabic country, and while I have known this all along I had for some reason assumed it would be more European than it is. People are dressed in the biggest array of outfits I have ever seen. From western style dresses, vests, jeans and shirts to full hajib. One old man shuffled past in a two piece suit, shirt and tie, the next in a strange floor length cowl with a pointy hood, looking distinctly like an extra for the original old style Star Wars. We caused a few people to stop and stare, something I should be used to after Thailand but am not. At least here they don't giggle behind their hand, point and shout 'felang felang'.

After breakfast we went on our first shopping recce. It's always one of the first things we do when we get to an area. It's nice to know exactly what you are going to have to live without. In Thailand it was decent bread and wine (until you are in the know...), Honduras - fresh meat and cheese that wasn't powder, Australia – very little, apart from fresh salsa; which astounds me, oh yeah and proper chip shop chips, but you can't get them outside the UK and Ireland so I'll forgive that. Here it looks like we are without all pork products (to be expected), nearly everything Asian and strangely mop heads and fitted sheets don't seem to exist here. Well not where we have been anyway. Even finding simple kitchen things like buckets and sharp knives (ones that don't wibble when cutting anything harder than soft butter) seems to be beyond us. We had to travel 60km to Fes to find them.

Meat in packets seems to be another luxury I always took for granted. After exploring the centre ville we walked on to find the market. Here you have all the fresh veg and meat stalls. Running the length of a long narrow hall are vegetable stalls selling a fantastic range of fruit and veg. Along the other side of the hall, with a narrow path of around 1.5 metres between, are the meat stalls. No consideration for vegetarians here. Laid out across counters are various carcases. Each stall specialises in one type of carcass, or meat if we are being polite. Here you really are confronted with exactly what it is you are eating. You choose your meat and then point to the part of the animal you would like and then receive a bony, fatty chunk of meat in return. I’m not too squeamish about that kind of thing, my home is on an Aberdeen Angus farm after all, but the goat stall was almost to much for me. Dangling from their hooves, skinned down to the neck, fluffy head and horns still in place, testicles dangling at eye level.... so far we have only eaten turkey. This surprisingly seems really popular here and is one of the few things that is kept in a semi refrigerated area and that I can identify. When I get sick of turkey burgers and fillets I will get braver. After my adventurous range of menu in Australia, we have eaten pasta and sauce two of the three nights I have cooked. I am hoping when we get our house lady (it's the done thing apparently...la di dah...) that she can show me how to cook some of the local cuisine.