La Grande Shopping Expédition.

These days when I rock up to the Grande Taxi stand in Fes, they start laughing.

And I do admit the whole thing is a trifle absurd.

Them trying to charge me double.

Me doing the Dance of Outrage, arms aloft, 150 dirhams clutched in one hand, shrieking and waving, before retiring to the side of the road to drink freshly squeezed orange juice with what I hope is a look of disdain.

Milas to Dianne: You should'da heard her cussing.

The results are varied.

Oh god no. Not in terms of price. I’m one of the very few foreigners who hasn’t been ripped off.

But the drivers? There is:

Rashidi Majnoon [Rashid the Crazy] who managed to chock in a SEVENTH passenger between himself (in the driver’s seat) and the door.

Me to Rashid: And what are we going to do with him when the Gendarmes pull us over? Roll him into the space on top of my feet???

Hamid, whose hand moves ever closer toward my thigh until I gently push it back.

Mohamed, who delivers (badly needed) Arabic lessons en route, detouring off the road to show me tourist attraction such as the beautiful Lake Ouwa.

Siom, Hind & I on top of the lake recommended by Grande Taxi driver, Mohamed.

Donkey which has been firmly shooed away from our BBQ by Siom. For notes on the attitude and habits of Moroccan donkeys, please refer to the post below.

And a multitude of others, differentiated by the raucousness of their music, their patience in (not) overtaking other drivers and their instinct about where the Gendarmerie are likely to be.

Morocco Lesson 5: In Morocco, like Australia, the police hide behind roadside weeds, speed cameras aimed at the unsuspecting.

Morocco Lesson 6: In Morocco, like Australia, drivers driving past said policeman flash their lights to warn other drivers of the fast approaching police effort. Cooperation is a Grande Thing is it not?

This assumes, of course, that one has made it to the Grande Taxi stand in Fes, which is not necessarily the case. Let me provide you with the salient information:

1. Petit Taxis must be used for driving inside cities, towns or villages.

2. Grande Taxis, usually old, beat up Mercedes, take passengers between cities. They leave when the taxi is full.

3. A Full Grande Taxi means six paying passengers. Which may mean four paying Moroccans , plus Simone (1) plus Simone’s bum (1). Alternatively, one can pay for the whole Grande Taxi.

Fes-Bound Taxi waiting for its 6 passengers at the Grande Taxi station in Ifrane.

4. Grande Taxis can only legally drive one to the Grande Taxi Terminus, not one’s destination, unless Simone has commandeered said Grande Taxi in which case it not only takes her home but delivers all her shopping up the six flights of stairs to Simone’s top floor apartment. [Simone tips well.]

5. One can, however, get out of a Grande Taxi anywhere in transit, quite legally, and this is where poor decision making can leave one stranded. I have TWICE ended up in a supermarket car park in danger of spending the night. Once: no taxis. Twice: The only Petit Taxi driver in sight refused to take me on religious grounds. He spied a bottle of Port in my shopping.

Moroccan Lesson 7: Zip up shopping bag when buying booze. Restrain any drivers attempting to open and investigate your purchases [I kid you not]. Avoid, where possible, the self-righteous driver. There can't be that many of them. It is, after all, Moroccans that drink most of the wine they produce, and there are certainly queues of them in the supermarket's booze section.

Problem solved. Milas in the 'Nissan' I hired to take him, me and our shopping to the Fes Grande Taxi Stand.

Milas to Me: Y'know. I really thought we were gonna be there all night.

Why do I bother?

Because it's so bloody difficult to buy things in this country.

You simply wouldn't believe the amount time and fervour we newbies devote to our shopping accomplishments. The energy we expend validating rumours. The thrill of the chase.

The uni store sells MARSHMELLOWS!!!

There are CANDLES at the back of the Superette!!!

WHERE did you get those hooks???

I KNOW I saw vanilla beans SOMEWHERE.

Petit Taxi driver, Omar, holding aloft my hard won (9 grocery stores around Ifrane) dried apricots...

Dianne, triumphant. A 3 metre iron pole the source of pure joy!

The bloke beside her is my boss, Ahmed, by the way. No. He is not deserving of your sympathy.

Pathetic, I know, but take a look at some of the things one cannot buy for love nor money:

Duvet covers
Spinach, Broccoli, Rocket
[My elation on recently discovering Brussels Sprouts knew no bounds.]
Sweet Chilli Sauce
QWERTI keyboards

And things you can buy but at exorbitant cost include:

Light bulbs
Honey
Deodorant
Rum
Brown Sugar

Sigh. I do miss my Hot Rum Toddy, which you can easily make by mixing together these ingredients - IF you're able to buy them:

1 cup of hot water
1 ounce of dark rum
2 teaspoons of brown sugar
1 teaspoon of creamed butter
2 teaspoons of freshly-squeezed lemon juice
grated nutmeg
dash of powder cinnamon
dash of powdered ginger
hint of powdered cloves

Yeah, well, the things you CAN get, you get in abundance. Carrots at Ifrane Souq. Bring on your carrot recipes. The ones you didn't find online. I have those.

All is not lost however. When one leaves the necessities of life behind, shopping in Morocco is not only adequate but glorious.

I speak, of course, of carpets!

In the company of a small team of fellow faculty, I have spent some hours in single carpet shops.

Hours?

In this country, it is rude to shop without the consumption of time and tea, and by the time Ahlam has determined the minimum number of teapots she can possibly take home(we once had to borrow a trolley to get her tea trays back to the car), Lucas has identified a number of rugs which remind him of Washington State University (yellow and gold), Frederic has gathered a number of heirlooms the carpet seller wants him to 'mind' at home so tourists can't buy them, Lucy has burrowed for cushion covers to hang on the wall, and I have picked up the odd ceramic or woven piece that simply cannot be left behind, it is dark outside.

Looking for mends, natural and synthetic dyes, goat hair, acrylic and Signatures: Marks, changes in colour, which identify the tribe or family. The carpet seller can tell which family each piece comes from and when there has been a marriage. The newly wed bride brings her tribal patterns to those of her husband.

Ahlam & me in handwoven, men's jelabas. Getting into and out of these things is a nightmare.

Carpet Cat in search of cuddles:

Carpet Cat finds cuddles with Kelly.

Lucas celebrates his birthday with tea and biccies.

Moroccan Mint Tea courtesy of Hind.

1. Add sugar and Green Gunpowder tea (to taste) to metal tea pot.
2. Boil water and add to tea pot.
3. Put metal tea pot on flame and allow to boil for up to a minute.
4. Add fresh mint to pot.
5. Pour the tea into a tea glass.
6. Pour the tea IN the glass back into the pot.
7. Repeat Steps 5 & 6 at least 3 times.
8. Add fresh mint to each guest's glass.
9. Pour tea. Guests add sugar to taste.

And so ends La Grande Shopping Expédition.

My apartment WILL one day be functional.

Better: My apartment WILL be one day be overflowing with Moroccan carpets, ceramics and worked metal. [Two alternatives. 1 Eat your heart out. 2 Come and visit.]

In the meantime, though, PLEASE tell me if you come across duct tape anywhere.

Simone the Sufficiently Shopped.