Carrying on where I left off

The other day I started writing about my "turning 40 angst" but I got carried away writing about life in my twenties and that was lots of fun and I ended up writing loads so I didn't talk about what's going on right now.

It's true, I am experiencing some angst about that big birthday looming up. Up til now my life makes so much sense but I'm completely baffled as to how the family thing hasn't happened when it's something I'd really love to have. In fact, some of my earliest memories are being aware of how things were at home and thinking "when I have my family I'm going to do things differently". Don't get me wrong, my parents are wonderful people and I love them dearly but when it came to raising children, I'm not sure they gave much thought to how you go about raising children. I'm sure lots of people bring children into this world without giving it much thought, to consider what sort of environment they would like to raise their children in and then create that environment.

Maybe it was because I was a sensitive child, prone to feeling things around me. Coupled that with a pondering mind and you get a child like me. I don't think my sisters were like this because some of the things that I mention, they've been oblivious to. I can see hints of it in my nephew Adil. Once when we were talking, I asked him what he'd like to do when he grew up. He told me that he'd like to be an artist (he is exceptionally gifted already) and sell his paintings in the park but only on weekdays. I asked him what he'd do at the weekend then and he said "I'd spend weekends with my family". I shot a glance at my sister to find out what he meant by that. My sister told me that often she has to work on Saturdays (she's a doctor) and the children don't like it, they want her to be there with them. Instead of moaning or complaining or throwing a tantrum, Adil had worked out a solution for how he'd do something when he grew up, based on how he saw things as a child. That's how I was too.

My adult life has been driven by the desire to get to that place I'd want to be when I was raising a family. It's as much about feeling comfortable with myself and who I am as a person and where I've got to in life before embarking on motherhood. I've got to the place I'd want to be, I didn't give up halfway along because I couldn't be bothered or didn't want to put the effort in. But I wonder if the whole family thing will happen? I'm baffled by the thought that it might not? I'm not sure how that is possible and I'm not prepared to give up the dream but you do think at what point do you go "ok, this isn't going to happen, time to let it go". I believe in the natural laws of the universe and I've seen so many things slot into place in my life but sometimes I do find myself wondering "is the universe so cruel that it would give me everything but deny me the thing I want most?" And my answer is always no, the world just doesn't work like that.

The other thing with always believing that I would one day have a family is that I haven't really thought what I want to do with my life if there isn't a family to take care of, to nurture, to love. How do I fill my time if I always thought that by a certain point, a large chunk of it would be taken up looking after my little family? What do you do if your childhood dream has been about the family you will have and how you will raise them but maybe that dream isn't going to happen? And all your subsequent dreams have been fulfilled? I was on a mission to get to a place where all my boxes had been ticked before a family came on the scene. I've got to that place, what do I do now? If I've got at least twenty years of full-time work ahead of me, what do I want to do? Last year working at the Society got me to a place where I thought "wow, if I never go any higher than this, that's fine by me - this is an amazing place to be". It's a great vantage point to start a family from as you don't have that nagging feeling that you never got to the place you thought you could get to because you had a child and took time out to raise your family.

For anyone reading this who doesn't know me, I think I better add in that I haven't delayed starting a family due to chasing a career dream. I just haven't met the right person. The last time I fell in love, I thought he was the one, I think for a time he did too. For four years I held on to the belief that he was the person for me, but our timing was off as we were both going through a process of turning our lives around to simultaneously get them to a point where we could live together in harmony. Then one evening we were talking, my candle for him still burning bright, and he said a few things that made me think "oh my god, he can't even look after himself, how can he look after me?" Bizarre thing to feel for someone as independent as myself but there you go, that's what I felt. I had this weird sensation that he wasn't "big" enough for me which is a strange thing to feel. I think it was something to do with our different approaches to life. I might be scared stiff about doing something but I will still dive in and do it. He seemed to be scared of life. Deep down inside I think he always knew it, always knew he would never get to that place he was trying to get to. I believed that he would but maybe all along he knew differently. But I've got to give it to him, he tried damn hard and I really thought he'd get there but it just didn't happen. He is a beautiful, gentle cheeky soul who I loved tremendously but that night my candle flickered and went out. And since then, I've not met anyone who I have that connection with. Actually, that's a lie, I have met some where the connection is there but the circumstances are not conducive to anything.

Anyway, there you go, a little about my angst. I think one of the underlying factors behind the email I sent yesterday is the thought in my head that if I don't have my own family and it's going to be mainly about work, I need to feel challenged and fulfilled and as if I am constantly achieving. I don't really have anywhere to go, I've got to wherever I needed to get to but I get very bored if I'm not challenged and I don't do mundane and boring! And I've hurtled along at quite a pace over the last two decades, packing in stacks. Sometimes I feel a bit tired so to maintain the momentum, I need to be incredibly excited about the work I'm doing, it's got to be something that gets my adrenaline going. So lots and lots of things whirling around in my head but you know the funny thing, I still believe it will happen. I still believe that my little dream of that someone special and me, living in our house full of love, laughter and happiness with a few little ones (and maybe some cats and possibly a dog) will still happen. And wow, how amazing will that be when it does happen!

Now I've got to turn my thoughts to organising the party for the big day! It's going to be special - and I get to celebrate it twice. On the day in London and then probably the week after in Ibiza. It's the same day that the Bali project opens, I was told I could celebrate my birthday in Bali but I would have been working and no doubt it would have been stressful and I'd already decided I wanted to celebrate with all my loved ones! I don't work on my birthday!

PS - I was talking to someone yesterday who'd just turned 30. I asked him if he'd had any "turning 30 angst" and he said yes. Then he said "I guess it's not something you're worrying about just yet" - he thought I was a 20-something. When I told him I was a few months off from turning 40, he went "oh my god, you've got menopause coming up!" Well thanks! There's me worrying about if I'm going to have children and he comes out with something like that. Anyway, how can someone like me who still looks about 12 even consider something like menopause, it's an eternity away!

I'm having a *gulp* what have you done? moment....

I haven't really written much about my trip to Marrakech, I certainly haven't written anything about my stay at our riad. I will write more about my Marrakech experience but for the time being, I think I should explain what I have just done to cause my *gulp* moment.

When I was in Marrakech, effectively I was acting as a Consultant, getting to the root cause of what wasn't working and then making suggestions for improvement. As a Consultant, I would also implement the changes needed to make the project become a resounding success. As a Consultant in London, I had a reputation for delivering at the highest level. I'm still that person, I just live in a different place. For any project you need to have one person who is the driving force behind it, who makes it get to where it needs to be, who makes it all happen. That's usually me.

Since my return, I've compiled a 7-page report of what's not quite right about the place. I've been asked how I can help to make the improvements. I've said that I'm happy to act as a Consultant but we need to review terms and conditions - ie what I get paid. I'm not prepared to give away my skills and experience for a pittance. I don't know how this will be received, hence my *gulp* moment. The last few weeks have been a real eye-opener but I'm not going to go into details here. If you're interested in knowing, ask me and I'll tell you in private, it's just not something I will discuss in a public place.

It's one of those moments where afterwards you think "maybe I should have kept my mouth shut" but I know me, I don't keep my mouth shut. I wade in where fools wouldn't dare to tread and say what I think. At times it's caused friendships to end but if I can't express how I'm feeling, it wasn't a friendship worth having. I've walked out of jobs (only twice though) where I wasn't happy with how I was being treated.

The long and short of what I've just done is that either I work as a Consultant for the people (and hell, they could do with someone like me working as a Consultant) and get paid accordingly for it. Or I leave. And maybe go back to London as I'm not sure there's anything else here on the island for me. I need to feel challenged, I need to feel I am constantly achieving, I need to feel there is some purpose to what I do. Without that, I end up feeling rather miserable.....

My favourite song of 2008

Even though I've spent most of this year living in Ibiza, that hotbed of party activity, it didn't feel like I heard that much new music. I had one of those emails from Amazon recommending bands and albums based on past purchases. I didn't recognise one name on the list but at least I have bands to look into.

So I didn't hear that much new music but I have heard some and based on that, I've chosen my favourite song of 2008. This is the first song I want to hear being played once the clock has chimed in the new year for 2009. It was a close call but in at number one is "Paris" by Friendly Fires. Actually the version that I love is the Au Revoir Simone one (the Aeroplane remix). I love the original too and could watch the band performing on Jools Holland over and over again but the remix really does it for me. It's a piece of nu-balaeric wonderfulness with a lovely long piano intro and some cowbell thrown in for good measure. The singer's gentle voice is gorgeous and this is beautiful sunshine music that makes you feel good to be alive. It makes you want to throw your hands in the air and sing along. And for me, it will always remind me of that very special time I lived quite near Paris (of which I've written about already, I think it's in the November posts).

Coming in very close at number two is "Iris" by Hercules and Love Affair. Once again, a beautiful song. Both the albums are my favourite albums of the year but I think Hercules and Love Affair would come in at number one and Friendly Fires would be in at number two. Both bands have a Frankie Knuckles connection. Do you know what it is? Well, the godfather of house did a remix of Blind. And Friendly Fires do an indie cover of "Your Love" - is this the first time that an indie band is showing a nod to their dance music influences?

Feeling excited about the festive season!

Well it's glorious sunshine and blue skies in Ibiza but I'm heading back to London for Christmas and New Year and I'm feeling just a little bit excited about it! Actually very excited about it! According to the BBC website, the weather isn't too bad in London town but I'm sure it's nothing like the beautiful weather we're having here. Not to worry, I'm still excited.

I was a little worried about Christmas earlier this week as normally I spend the day with my older sister and her family. But this year she's buggered off overseas with the children so that option went out of the window. A friend invited me to spend Christmas Day with him but then appears to have changed his mind (without telling me) so I had a moment of panic this week wondering what I was going to do. There are two days in the year that I refuse to be alone as it would be so pitifully sad and those days are Christmas Day and my birthday. Anyway, my lovely friend Sophie is going to take me in for the day and in return she'll get a Christmas present from the shop - if I remember correctly, she loved the gold overnight bag so I'll take that for her.

The festive season kicks off tonight with a last party in Ibiza for me at Grial. It seems like everyone I know is going to be there so naturally I've started to get excited already. Then it's work again tomorrow and back to London tomorrow night courtesy of RyanAir. From the sound of it there's going to be a lot of people I know on the plane heading back and the flight has now been dubbed the Rave Plane. At the other end, it's straight to a party from the airport. I'll have my luggage and presents with me but I'm sure I can stow them away behind the bar or in the DJ booth where my friend Frank Tope will be manning the wheels of steel. There is something a little bit magical about the thought of coming home for Christmas and going straight to a party with all your stuff. If it was snowing and I was in New York, it would feel even more special but there is something about the mass movement of people at this time of year that I absolutely love. I know that lots of people I love will be making journeys at this time of year, going back to their families and old homes. They of course may not relish the prospect of being stuck with their families for a few days but I love the thought of everyone going off and being tucked up with their clan.

I'm excited about spending a couple of weeks back in the UK, hanging out with family and friends, seeing the people that matter the most. I was asked to work over Christmas and New Year, at the riad in Marrakech and I said no. That time around Christmas and New Year is far too special for me to work, it's when I spend time with my loved ones - it would take a lot of money for me to even consider working and even then, I might still say no!

If truth be told.....

.... I hate those birthdays with a nought in them. It's as if they stand like pillars at either end of a decade, so big and momentous and solid. You end up looking at your life so far and even if it's been brilliant (which it has), you end up focussing on the things that haven't happened and you thought they would have. By now.

Actually turning twenty was fine, although I bet I was probably worrying about how my life would turn out. I felt wise beyond my years then when in fact I was quite naive and looked about 12 years old. But I was cool as I'd bought my first car while still 19 and it was a lovely bright red Volkswagen Beetle so I'd hurtle around town feeling like I was the best. I wanted to be the girl from the song "The Boys of Summer" but I didn't have a convertible. My car was still very cool and I had the Raybans and the hair pulled back to make me believe I was her. There was something about buying your first car while still a teenager that appealed to my need to have milestones with ticks beside them.

Me and my friend James would sit there for hours, drinking tea and eating Galaxy (we were such rebels back then!) and talking about life and how it all worked. We thought we knew everything and actually I had a fairly strong philosophy on life and apparently I was one of the most driven and determined little things that people had come across. I'd read an article by some old guy called Tom who used to write for Cosmopolitan (back in the days when Cosmopolitan was a brilliant magazine) and the article said something along the lines of "trust your feelings, follow your soul, you have the power to realise your dreams". It talked about implenting change in your life and being brave and all these things that made sense to me. I made James read it too! So, we thought we knew it all, that we had all the answers (courtesy of Tom's article - of which the best bits I still have, carefully handwritten in an old diary full of wise words) but we had zero life experience to put into practice what we believed.

I was truly curious to see how things would turn out. I'd been told that I could achieve anything I put my mind to (apart from my A levels which I failed miserably first time round and just scraped through the second time round). So a part of me wondered if that was actually true? Could I achieve anything I put my mind to? Did I have what it takes? And another part of me was secretly scared that somebody had convinced me about something that wasn't actually true and I'd find out the hard way when my life didn't work out, or at best, ended up being something average and mediocre (quite possibly my worst nightmare). So my debut into my 20s was excitement peppered with some drops of anxiety in case it didn't quite turn out how I believed it might.

My 20s were also the time to go off and do the things that might be more difficult once a family was in the picture. I first fell in love when I was 23. He was a few years older than me and at a stage in life where he was ready to settle down, have babies and that sort of stuff. I was still at university and wanted to live my life a little without someone else in tow. I skipped away from that without a backwards glance. If anyone had told me how difficult it is to meet someone who is really special, I might have done things differently. Or maybe not. But back then, I really did think amazing people were always around the corner. Actually I know that amazing people are always around the corner, I always manage to meet them wherever I go. But amazing people you fall in love with a really few and far between.

It was also interesting to see how I viewed my life would be by the time I was 30. I used to think that by then, I'd have the high-flying career, a penthouse suite, a designer car, a designer boyfriend and I'd be wearing sharp black trouser suits, with my hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. Obviously I imagined that the girl from the song (who of course I was) had just grown up a bit.....

I hated turning 30! It was like this milestone looming up and I didn't feel that I'd quite got to the place I'd expected to be. But life in the twenties hadn't followed that usual pattern of university followed by the start of a career. During my university days, I'd had the opportunity to live overseas and loving the experience, I wanted to do this again after graduating. I had two paths I could have followed - going to live overseas or embarking on a career as a foodservice design consultant (someone who designs back and front of house in hotels and restaurants). I'd spent my final year at university working with a consultancy, my dissertation was all about the role of design in high quality restaurants and I had the opportunity to join the consultancy after I graduated. But I felt too young to be starting a proper career.

I felt like a fraud. I don't know why because I was good at the work and obviously design is something that I have as an inbuilt gift. But I just didn't feel ready to hold my own in grown-up meetings and I was concerned I might get discovered as a fraud. It may have something to do with the fact that I still looked like I was under 18 (I got asked my age once in a supermarket when I was buying a bottle of wine for a friend. I was 24 at the time). I didn't think anyone would take me seriously because I still looked like a teenager. Now it's great as I still look a lot younger than I am and when I ever need to run through what I've done in my glittering career, you can see people doing the mental arithmetics trying to work out how old I am because there's no way I could have crammed all that in by the time I was 30!

So instead of embarking on the start of a career, I chose to run off to Japan to teach English and ended up there for three years. My dad has always said to me that if any opportunity comes your way, you should grab it and go for it (not quite these words, my dad doesn't speak like this and anyway, he'd be saying all of this in Urdu to me) because you never know if that opportunity will present itself to you again. Well this is what happened with Japan and off I went. After 3 years I came back and returned to university to embark on an MA in International Relations. It was difficult studying a subject I hadn't done since before O Levels but I loved it, relished the challenge of being thrown a topic I knew nothing about and then doing the research, finding out what it was all about, writing an essay, composing my answer. I'd always wanted to do a Masters but I didn't know in what subject. A diary I kept for a short time back in '91 when I went on a student exchange to the University of Denver talked about that desire then, but at that time it was angling towards an MBA. Now I'd found a subject that I loved. I even considered it as a PhD but didn't want to start my working life with a big debt over my head so I discarded that idea.

There was another reason for doing an academic MA at a "proper" university. Although I'd done well when I did my degree and came out with a 2:1, the whole episode of failing my A levels had left me feeling a bit thick. I'm not, I'm quite an intelligent person but in early adulthood, all you really have is your academic achievements to tell the world what sort of person you are. If you've failed something academically, you may end up feeling less intelligent than you are. Doing the Masters was a way of eradicating these feelings, of proving to myself that I was intelligent. And it worked! The funny thing is, when you're in your late teens, early twenties, that's how everyone sizes up everyone else. I have a wonderful friend B who jokingly refers to me as her idol because she is so inspired by my "get up and go and don't let anything stand in your way" attitude. But if she'd met me at the time of the A level failure, she would have thought less of me as a person as I hadn't proved myself to be academically brilliant!

I need to interject at this point. This was meant to be a post about me talking about how much I hate big birthdays. Instead I'm filling in the reader about various aspects of me and my life, all very positive - I started off feeling a bit crap when I started writing this but now I'm feeling pretty fabulous as I look back over the adventure that has been my life so far. Blogging can make you feel better!

Anyway, after that digression, I return to my twenties. After the Masters, I finally embarked on the start of a career at the ripe old age of 28. So it wasn't surprising that by the time 30 was on the horizon, I hadn't quite got to be the person I thought I would be. Thing is, I'd never be that person, it's not me. It doesn't represent what I feel is important in my life, it's far too materialistic and shallow, I guess it was just an image I thought I would be. Maybe it was how I defined "success" when I was 20, by the things you had attained in your life, not about the experiences you had had.

So, I found myself turning 30 living in a shabby but loved rented flat, working at the Foreign Office in a job that didn't really challenge me and I was aching to prove how wonderful and amazing I was! I reluctantly organised a party for my 30th, I felt I had to do something to mark the occasion. But honestly speaking, the way I was feeling about it all, I think I would have preferred to hibernate that birthday out as I didn't feel like I had much to celebrate. On top of all of this, my younger sister had just got engaged. Although I'd always known that my younger sister would get married before me, when it actually presented itself a reality, I did have an "oh my god, even my younger sister has a more together life than I do!" moment.

I had the party at my shabby but lovely rented flat. It was good to see my friends there. I can't remember who was actually there and I'm not sure I have photos of the event to nudge my memory. The thing I do remember is that even though I didn't enjoy my birthday as I hated turning 30, I loved the day after the party. My best friends had stayed over and on the Sunday we had a love-in on the futon in the living room, eating pizza from across the road and listening to wonderful tunes. It was pouring with rain and you could hear it drumming on the roof but we were all tucked up and happy. Before you think there was something untoward going on, the love-in was completely innocent. I think about six of us all clambered onto the futon that doubled up as a bed. We were all fully clothed but all got under the bed clothes and ate pizza in bed. Daryl was the only boy in the group and obviously he loved being surrounded by all these gorgeous girls. However Jayne might not have been feeling so gorgeous as she'd been horrendously ill the night before and was still a touch fragile. This is the moment I really loved. I was surrounded by some of my loveliest friends (and they are all still a part of my life so I am blessed with wonderful friendships), eating pizza and listening to great music. It was pouring with rain outside so the best place to be was inside and I loved it, truly loved it! So it seems as if once I got the big 3-0 out of the way, including the official "party", I could really start enjoying the decade.

This post has gone off on a tangent but I've really enjoyed writing it. I'll come back tomorrow to fill in on my 30s (which I may have done already on my birthday post from this year) and discuss why I feel so baffled about turning 40!

Marrakech - Part One

I was going to blog from Marrakech but the internet connection at the riad was being tempermental so I had to leave it. Instead I scribbled down notes to help keep things fresh in my mind, to help me remember the details when I found the opportunity to blog again.

As soon as I stepped out of the plane, standing at the top of the stairs, I smelt the air. Whenever I arrive in a new place by plane, I always like to get out of the plane and feel the air on my face, see what temperature it is, what it smells like, if it reminds me of anything. It's always great going somewhere hot as you feel the rise in temperature, the heat and humidity as soon as you step out.

When you arrive in Marrakech, you have to fill in an immigration form. I'm not sure why they don't give you this on the plane, as so many other nations do. It was only when you went into the airport terminal that you found the forms that needed to be filled in. Once filled in, you had to turn back on yourself and get in line to see one of the immigration officials. When it was my turn, they asked me a strange question "What is your country of origin?" - they asked me this when I was leaving too. What is this meant to mean? The country I was born in? The country my parents were born in? The country they went to as refugees after the partition of India? I answered Pakistan but I'm not sure that's the correct answer but they didn't seem too bothered by my answer and I could leave and go to collect my luggage.

Waiting at the baggage carousel, there was that rising sense of panic when it became obvious that all the luggage had been emptied onto the belt but my suitcase wasn't there. I watched the suitcases of various shapes and sizes pass before me but no glimpse of my own. As I waited there, mentally going through the process of reporting my suitcase lost, I looked over to the right and there I saw lying on the ground, my suitcase. I don't know if it had tumbled off the carousel or if someone had picked it off thinking it there's but I did wonder why the people surrounding my suitcase hadn't put it back onto the carousel. Anyway, I collected my case and stepped into the main airport to meet the driver who would take me to the riad. In the airport, if you look up to the ceiling, it looks like some Daliesque melting candles but the effect is pleasing, in a spaceship kind of way - it reminded me of the airport in Osaka.

As we left the airport and headed for the riad, straightaway you noticed the increase in 2 and 3 wheel vehicles, weaving their way thorough the traffic. You'd see complete families perched on a scooter, putt-putting along. As I peered into vehicles going past, I noticed a lot of sheep enjoying their last day on the planet. As we sped along, it dawned on me that Marrakech reminded me of Karachi but instead of toffee-colour buildings, they were generally salmon pink. And of course the Atlas Mountains in the distance which you don't have in Karachi. The driver chatted away in French and I felt glad that I'm multi-lingual and could understand what he was saying and engage in conversation. Without speaking French, I would have been lost.

Barcelona

I'm in Barcelona for the night before flying to Marrakech tomorrow morning. When I arrived this afternoon, the streets around my hotel seemed eerily quiet as if something had just ended and everyone had left. I'm staying in a hotel not far from the place I stayed in when I was in Barcelona in April. I know this because I can see the same Gaudi building from this hotel window as I could from the other. Thankfully this hotel is of a much higher calibre than the other place, which to this day remains the place where I had the worst night's sleep. Probably because I didn't get any sleep at all. That place (which was actually a hostel) was terrible - I ended up sharing a room with 5 others of which 4 snored terribly (the worst being a girl) and the heating was turned up so high you would have thought that a blizzard was raging outside. You couldn't open a window to let any cold air in, you couldn't turn the heating down and I couldn't sleep due to the cacophony of snoring - it was like an out-of-time orchestra, full of wind instruments.

Anyway the current hotel is far better and I don't have to share the room with anyone else. I would describe the style as modern, all walnut brown wood and muted greys, against a backdrop of white. It's lovely but now I find this modern look so bland and boring. You can't find fault with it but it really doesn't have any character, any heart or soul. If it was a person, it would be that good-looking guy who turns out to be incredibly dull. And I've said guy instead of girl as it's a very masculine room. I look at the room and I want to inject some texture or colour or pattern into it, something to bring it to life. There's nothing really to capture your interest, no surfaces tempting you to run your hands over them, no visual or tactile pleasure. My leather tassle bag is the sole item bringing a bit of character to the room. On closer inspection I did notice that the wallpaper was made up of millions of ridges, like very fine corrugated paper and I immediately ran my hands over it. But you need to get quite close to see the textured quality, a metre away it looks like a plain white wall.

When I arrived in the room, I did what I always do when I arrive in a hotel room for the first time. I dumped my bags and went into the bathroom to see what that was like and to see if there were any goodies there. Once again, clean and modern but overall bland. I glanced over the toiletries, opened the bottles, had a sniff and ear-marked the items I'm going to take with me. I don't actually need anything but I liked the smell of the green tea shower gel and shampoo so those bottles will be finding their way into my suitcase. The soap smelled too normal to lift so that can stay.

After checking in, I went to find some food and catch up on the Sunday papers. I read about that woman Karen Matthews who was behind the abduction of her own daughter. It really makes you wonder what British society has come to. Last week I read about a man who made his own daughters pregnant so he could claim more child benefits, and this week this woman not fit to be a mother, orchestrating the disappearance of her own daughter so that she could "find" her and claim the reward money. Anyway, I ate and read the papers and then had an argument in Spanish about the bill as they charged me two euros for a bit of butter and alioli. It's a bit steep, particularly when a big basket of bread cost half that and most places don't charge for these things, it's quite normal to have alioli with your bread here (but maybe not butter). It was a pleasant experience arguing in Spanish as I could see how much progress I had made - I don't think the waiter was impressed when I called him a robber but in my head, I was just practicing my languange skills with a real-life situation.

I'm off to hear some live music tonight, meeting up with a friend who lives in the city. And then it's up bright and early tomorrow morning for the next leg of the journey - onward bound to Marrakech!