Sunday, February 24, 2008
An ode to an oud
A recent discovery made my heart sing
A pot-bellied, wonky-necked beautiful thing
But it's not on its beauty I'm keen to expound
Or even its strings with their delicate sound
It's simply a chronically Scrabble-obsessed nerd
Has found an exciting new three letter word
The Rough Guide to Morocco tells me that if I eat in a local cafe or am invited to a meal in someone's home where the food is eaten with the hands, using bread as a scoop, I should do as they do and use my right hand because the left one is used for going to the toilet. Please. Whilst it's fascinating to know the origins of why people do what they do, it implies that despite modern living conditions they're still eating with their right hand because they haven't washed their left and if that's the case, I don't want to eat anything with either right or left hand. How many chefs do you see preparing your meal with their left hand behind their back? My immunity to such things has long since been eroded by my over zealous adherence to sell-by dates and instructions in public toilets everywhere to 'NOW wash your hands'. So I wish the book had simply said that it's traditional.
We're trying not to be taken for tourist mugs and have succeeded and failed in about equal measure. Sitting in a bar I accepted a shoe shine, but when I asked how much, the guy just smiled and shrugged. That was one of the failures of course because I'm not going to risk insulting him by offering too little, so I gave him ten dirhams (about 70 pence) and afterwards found that the going rate seems to be one or two.
To balance the score sheet: I suppose the least surprising person to take you for a ride ought to be a taxi driver, but we were still astonished at the cheek of one of them. Hundreds of these petits-taxis buzz around in the evening like little fireflies, so we hailed one just before 7 o'clock to go to a restaurant. He charged us ten dirhams When we came out of the restaurant about two hours later he was there again so we hopped back in but noticed that the meter wasn't on. "That's right" he said, "it'll cost 40 dirhams". But we know that he knows that we know he's just charged us a quarter of that for the same journey. We jump out as he's shouting after us that he'll do it for 30. I'm not sure which is greater - his greed or his stupidity.
A pot-bellied, wonky-necked beautiful thing
But it's not on its beauty I'm keen to expound
Or even its strings with their delicate sound
It's simply a chronically Scrabble-obsessed nerd
Has found an exciting new three letter word
The Rough Guide to Morocco tells me that if I eat in a local cafe or am invited to a meal in someone's home where the food is eaten with the hands, using bread as a scoop, I should do as they do and use my right hand because the left one is used for going to the toilet. Please. Whilst it's fascinating to know the origins of why people do what they do, it implies that despite modern living conditions they're still eating with their right hand because they haven't washed their left and if that's the case, I don't want to eat anything with either right or left hand. How many chefs do you see preparing your meal with their left hand behind their back? My immunity to such things has long since been eroded by my over zealous adherence to sell-by dates and instructions in public toilets everywhere to 'NOW wash your hands'. So I wish the book had simply said that it's traditional.
We're trying not to be taken for tourist mugs and have succeeded and failed in about equal measure. Sitting in a bar I accepted a shoe shine, but when I asked how much, the guy just smiled and shrugged. That was one of the failures of course because I'm not going to risk insulting him by offering too little, so I gave him ten dirhams (about 70 pence) and afterwards found that the going rate seems to be one or two.
To balance the score sheet: I suppose the least surprising person to take you for a ride ought to be a taxi driver, but we were still astonished at the cheek of one of them. Hundreds of these petits-taxis buzz around in the evening like little fireflies, so we hailed one just before 7 o'clock to go to a restaurant. He charged us ten dirhams When we came out of the restaurant about two hours later he was there again so we hopped back in but noticed that the meter wasn't on. "That's right" he said, "it'll cost 40 dirhams". But we know that he knows that we know he's just charged us a quarter of that for the same journey. We jump out as he's shouting after us that he'll do it for 30. I'm not sure which is greater - his greed or his stupidity.
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Ooh - I REALLY hate haggling.
Just tell me how much it is. How much you charge people who don't look like you could rip them off. Do they haggle over petrol prices when they fill up the taxis? No. Think of me as a customer, not some friend or do-gooder.
That is all. Nice post.
Just tell me how much it is. How much you charge people who don't look like you could rip them off. Do they haggle over petrol prices when they fill up the taxis? No. Think of me as a customer, not some friend or do-gooder.
That is all. Nice post.
# posted by 
: 4:42 am
: 4:42 am
Thanks Cliff - To those brought up with haggling it's no big deal, but to those who're not, it's just embarrassing. I Like the petrol analogy, must use it next time.
Mum, why are you haggling over pence? Surely you don't take principles on holiday?
Good post, loved the poem. Are you playing Scrabble in Casablanca? Beautiful...
Good post, loved the poem. Are you playing Scrabble in Casablanca? Beautiful...
# posted by : 12:07 pm
: 12:07 pm
They use their left hand for going to the toilet?
Call me old fashioned, but I like to use my bottom.
Love the ode!
Call me old fashioned, but I like to use my bottom.
Love the ode!
# posted by : 12:49 pm
: 12:49 pm
No room in the case for scrabble Mel!
Wendy, I'll never be able to think about Morocco again without remembering that thought. You've scarred me in the same way my son did with: "Mum, can I lick the bowl" "no, flush like everyone else"
Yes Ed, the oud definitely sounds better than the ode.
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Wendy, I'll never be able to think about Morocco again without remembering that thought. You've scarred me in the same way my son did with: "Mum, can I lick the bowl" "no, flush like everyone else"
Yes Ed, the oud definitely sounds better than the ode.
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