Here in Morocco, I’m often asked what country I’m from. When I say ‘Wales’ all I get in return is a puzzled look. So I try in French, ‘Pays de Galles’. Ne comprend pas. Then in Spanish, ‘Galles’. Nada. Last night, the shopkeeper couldn’t get it either. I remembered that I bought a little diary […]

Squiffy’s write-up of her Hamman experience is fairly similar to my own, with the following marked differences: I was not coached on whether to remove my underwear or not from under my pinafore. I had a separate scrubber and a masseur. They were both wearing nothing more than the same style pinafore as me. That […]

Boy, I wish I had a better aptitude for learning languages. My GSCE in French may mean that I’m able to buy train tickets and order a coffee, but it certainly didn’t equip me with the vocab necessary to understand an attendant briefing me on the intricacies of hamman etiquette. A ‘hamman’ in Morocco is […]

This made us laugh. It’s a breakfast menu in a Casablanca cafe. Click on the picture to enlarge it. We have no idea what’s in the bowl of the Traditional breakfast (first item). But wait, what’s that in centre-stage of the “Exotic” breakfast (last item) — yes, it’s plain, old TOAST! *giggle* It appears that […]

Build a mental image for me here: The Italian Job. Car chase. Small cobbled streets. Only one car, none chasing. Streets become thinner. Wing-mirrors folded-in. Cobbled street becomes cobbled steps. Downwards. Well, grab me a chicken drumstick because that’s exactly the humiliation that we suffered in our Ford Focus hire-car whilst trying to locate our […]