Tales From A Multilingual Illiterate

For a change my lack of updates has not been because the internet has not been unavailable -in fact so far every place I have been in Morocco has had cyber cafes around every corner- but because, well, the computer is giving me a headache!

I have made a fair study of computers (and more often computer problems/challenges) around the world, but the situation here is something quite new. True, this is a country whose offical languages are Arabic and French (neither of which I speak, I regret to say) and the keyboard must account for this (yes, this is an Arabic keyboard) as well as the odd baffled-looking English tourist.

So all the usual suspects are here (a-z and basic punctuation... however more than half of the keys are in completely different places than in North America, Europe, Africa and Asia (no comment on Antarctic computers; I have not been there). A few examples: Q is where A is, M is now ù, W is Z, and rather than pushing shift on the number row to find punctuation, you press shift on the punctuation row to get numbers). I still have not found the @ symbol, and have resorted to copying and pasting from my inbox.

Over the last week (a week! I have been in Morocco a wee already!) I have been learning to type all over again, while desperately trying to pick up a word or two of Arabic (Ana Nabat! I'm a vegetarian!) and remember something of French beyond colours and rooms of the house (if only I were looking for a blue kitchen I would be on such a roll). I think I am finally getting the hang of it -I say, before going through this message to correct all my mistakes!- though even now if I try and type quickly (while staring at my anxious fingers) I get dizzy.

So I will keep this brief. I am currently in Chefchaouen, and no, I can't pronounce it. I arrived here from Tangier -an unspeakably dodgy but certainly lively city only 13 km from the coast of Spain- this afternoon, after an endlessly entertaining bus ride. Please note that "entertaining" is a word very like "interesting" which often means "I'm-too-polite-to-tell-you-it's-bad", in which the air conditioning leaked all over my clothes (and by extention, me) and a bag with a computer on it fell on my head).

Despite the free shower I was quite happy to arrive in this stunningly beautiful town, at the foot of the Rif Mountains. The name of the town literally means "Look At the Peaks" for, as our guide pointed out, there is nothing else to do here. Having said that there is always something to do, and exploring, walking up and down (I mean seriously up and down... mountains!) and around the new cities and towns with my camera is one of the enduring passions of my life (I say, at 21). Should I ever decide to be wild and bohemian and committ myself to a few months of "secluded" writing, this would be the place. Although that would mean I'd have to get back onto that bus...

This trip is flying by, and while in some ways this is sad (because it will end, and I will have to come home) it is also exciting (for it will end, and I will have to come home). I am not in the least tired of traveling (god forbid), but it would be fair to say I am tired of luggage. Luggage, I'm afraid, will have to be another story altogether.

And where are you, tonight? Are you happy there? I hope so.

N.