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.