Journal Entries

Redefining the UK

Auntie tells me that the new regional map of Britain, producing areas with strong social cohesion, is based on analysing billions of telephone calls and comes to the stunning conclusion that; “Where people spoke frequently and for extended periods, they were treated as having a stronger connection.”

I call my mother from Casablanca – until a few months ago, it cost an arm and a leg. The length and frequency of the calls might (just possibly) be connected with the cost – not the 'social cohesion'..

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Latest reply: Dec 9, 2010

Travelling by Train

On the subject of train travel, I made the mistake of taking the Marrakech Express on the Sunday before Eid Al Adha. It was a little less than romantic.
At this festival, Moroccans travel rather like Indians and there were three times as many people than the train could carry and twice as much baggage. Moroccans are also not very good at 'queueing' and the train was over an hour late simply because it spends half an hour at each station where the irresistible force of the people pushing to get on is met with the immovable object of the people trying to get off.
I got elbowed and shoved further and further along the platform until I found myself by the door to the 1st class carriages, which were far more civilised, and from where there seemed to be the faint possibility of getting into the 2nd class, from the inside. This was an incredibly stupid assumption.
However, there are (on Moroccan trains) two 'jump seats' (for smokers – I think – something that you can still do in Morocco without being regarded as a pariah) so I sat down on one, upon which an ONCF policeman pushed through the mêlée and officiously ordered me to move to whence I belonged. As this was physically impossible I ignored him and remained where I was whilst he yelled at some Moroccans who had made the same mistake that I had. Their response was somewhat more vociferous than mine and although my grasp of Moroccan Arabic is limited, I think they were questioning both his education and whether his parents were actually married.
The ticket inspector then appeared as he had very few passengers to attend to and what was gong on in the 'lobby' was far more interesting. He endorsed my ticket, without saying anything, so I asked him (in English) if I could upgrade my ticket to First Class. Normally it is perfectly possible to buy your ticket 'on the train', although you pay a small premium for so doing. He said 'yes', with which the policeman, who had hitherto professed to understanding not a single word of English, restrained the ticket inspector and said in perfectly adequate English; “No – they are all reserved,” which they weren't.
The altercation continued, on and off, until we approached to Berrached (an apt place as it is Morocco's equivalent to Bodmin - formerly - and home to the country's largest 'looney-bin').
By this time – having been told twenty or more times that I MUST go to 2nd class – I must have lost my sense of equilibrium, presence of mind or both and said in English and in a voice that would make a regimental sergeant-major appear 'soft-spoken', “Its not possible you idiot.” (which included two expletives that Auntie would not approve of)
Now – if you think that Moroccans don't understand English, you are wrong. The entire carriage erupted in laughter, as well as the sardines packed into the adjoining 2nd class carriage.
Much to my surprise, I did not get arrested but rather, was offered a proper seat in 1st class, free-of-charge! I said “Thank you, but there are older tireder people than me – I'll stay where I am thank you.” And I did.
When I disembarked at Settat, the officious little ONCF policeman apologised!
I should add that this is my first and only 'problem' with ONCF in eleven years and that the fault was entirely mine for being stupid enough to even attempt to travel by train at Eid Al Adha.

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Latest reply: Dec 3, 2010

Royal wedding

The Telegraph tells me:
"The Queen and David Cameron are both said to be "absolutely delighted" by the engagement."
What has happened in Ol' Blighty? Are Liz R and Mr C now 'in a relationship'?

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Latest reply: Nov 16, 2010

Moroccan FPNs

I have just translated (for money) the new Moroccan Highway Code – or rather - I fear - the Rozzer's Benefit Fund Voluntary Contributions Manual.

At a conservative estimate, the new rules could cost the average Moroccan car and driver about €2000 in FPNs just going from Casa to Mohammediah.

There has been noticeably less traffic since 1 October.

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Latest reply: Oct 11, 2010

Paris Motor Show

Today I looked at all the 'must-have' cars on display at the Paris Motor Show. There is an assumption that we have an absolute right to drive a car.
I haven't driven a car this century – by choice, not because I have been banned.
I have a dubious driving record. I have held valid driving licenses in nine counties, have driven in 27, have never had a moving traffic accident and have had but two speeding tickets – one in Dubai (1 kph over the limit) and one in Doha (when I was stupid). I have never had form of FPN and have never had any endorsement on any of the driving licenses that I have held.
But – for thirty or more years I drove outrageously, regarding speed limits as 'advisory notices' (to be ignored) at speeds that would now put me in prison and seldom – if ever – without a healthy intake of beer or wine inside me, that would also now put me in prison.
Yes – I agree – I should have been shot.
Yet – I have have had but two 'accidents' – both (probably the only two times) when I was stone-cold sober.
The first – on (or just after) my sixteenth birthday when – for the first time that I drove a motorbike on the road (I had been driving one since I was eight), I discovered that 'going round corners' at 60 mph on a road was slightly 'different' – and met a tree head on.
The other – I went to sleep, driving along a dead strait Roman road after a long and exceedingly boring 'meeting'.
My grandmother drove until she was nearly 80. She also never had an 'accident', but probably killed hundreds by driving her Morris Minor along winding Devon roads at 29mph with a constant diatribe as to the impatience of all the drivers behind her.
I don't think I ever killed anyone even though the noise of a Laverda Jota overtaking at 120 mph+ on a Devon road, may have caused a few to have to change their trousers.
I have no wish to drive again – especially in Casablanca (unless someone were good enough to give me a Ducati Multistrada), so I walk. It keeps me alive, I still break the (pedestrian) speed limits and get furious at fat ladies walking four abreast at a snail's pace.
In the past decade there have been but few occasions when I have wished for a car – it would have been 'convenient' a couple of times but paying Ahmed-the-Honda downstairs 200 dh to cart the excess baggage to Benshasha is infinitely cheaper than 'owning' a car.
But - even with the four abreast fat ladies – I can walk the 2 km, to an appointment across town, faster than I can get there in a taxi (at 6:00pm). I am on time but everyone else is up to half-an-hour late – not just because of the traffic – but because they can't park.
And – coming home I pass an (unusual) gymnasium – unusual in that it is on the first floor and you can see in.
What do you see? Ten overpaid, overwight ladies 'walking' – paying to walk on 'walking-machines'. They pay to walk the equivalent of 2 or 3 km and have spent a fortune on 'designer' clothes for walking on walking-machines. They have just driven (and got their stress levels up to boiling point), 2 or 3 km to pay to walk what they have just driven.
I'm confused but confess that, on arriving home I curse the 126 steps up to the flat.

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Latest reply: Oct 10, 2010


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PedanticBarSteward

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