November 2007; We move to Fez.

Dear Finn,

What can I say but that I’ve mislain my responsibilities in wanting to write more often and i would hope that I might manage to do more in the future, tho don’t hold your breath.

I have to say that I find trying to start a business, manage the complexties of doing things in a “Fassi” way, being a new dad and spending the greater part of my day speaking in at least two and sometimes three foreign languages, sufficient to have me absolutely knackered by bedtime.

You play no small part in that, but it’s genuinly a real pleasure, thanks. Thanks for waking us up in the middle of the night, having incredibly smelly shitty nappies (I think you get that from me!), perplexing us as to what it is that you actually want and of course thanks for those gorgeous smiles that melt my heart and make everything not only worth while, but better.

However suffice to say that although I am far from thnking that we are ..or ever will be...wining, that the doing of it all, trying to make our ideas come in to fruition, through our own endevours, is obviously frustrating, frequently frightenng if not down right intimidating..is always interesting.

We’ve been here again this time for about five weeks and of course, “of course”..it’s now so increasingly obvious that it should be “of course”, we are far from having achieved what we thought we would, could and should have done in this time here. But that’s part of the being here and appreciating the task that we are setting ourselves.

Five weeks and what have we done? .....My God we haven’t stopped and as is so frequently the case, you move, so slowly forward, and yet each and every step is an adventure, a steep learning curve, a way of doing things, getting things done.

However, first and foremost, being here with Beccie and you, is simply a joy. Despite the difficulties, and it’s been hairy at times, and so wonderful at others, we get to spend a great amount of time together, which of itself justifies this move. We’ve moved in to Wattanya building, a large appartment block, on Hassan Deux, the main boulavard through the new town.

It’s a cool flat with a great view over the town, medina and Mt Zala, behind. I say cool, but currently what I really mean is ..freezing. It’s sooo cold, there’s no heating so we’ve bought gas fires, but it rarely alters the temperature above cold. Outside is frequently warmer. However, “they say”, in summer it’s cool also when everywhere else is HOT...They say alot here so we’ll see!

Trying to keep you hot was really difficult in our freezing flat.

We all got really sick within a week of getting here. When you’re out on the streets here, day or night, if you see babies, they are smothered in blankets and rugs. People here generally say that babies never leave the house before they are three months old, so they we’re shocked and possibly concerened when we had you out with us. Infact you soon got what we found was bronchitus and at one point you sounded like a heavy smoker of 20 years. It was our first illness with you and somewhat shocking. What’s happening, why, what should/n’t I have done?

Fortunately there’s a great pediatrician in the same block, but it was really horrible.

However we are here, and as I say everything is an adventure, be that parenthood, marriage, starting up a business, or living in Morocco.

On arriving, of course there were problems with the flat, despite so many attempts to get it sorted beforehand. Firstly we had no water. Then we had water but then no hot water. Then when we got hot water, it was so hot it melted the shower hose, which we should have taken as a sign because only days later the boiler exploded filling the flat with steam and the stairwell with water. Then when I informed the landlord that we wouldn’t pay any more rent until the hot water was fixed he tried to say hot water was an optional extra on the bill....I asked him to leave at that point and come back when he was able to respond more sensibly. Then the toilets wouldn’t flush...then they wouldn’t stop flushing....

...and then it was alright and everything worked..more or less...which is fine.

But one thing I really want to say is that it’s great being here, with you and Beccie and having this quality of time together, it’s truely wonderful. We can in wierd and wonderful Moroccan ways, have an amazing amount of control over our own lives. We are living in a culture where people come up and kiss you, offer blessing to you and us, on a regular basis. People, any one, someone you’ve never met before, will just touch your forhead, kiss your hand, say a blessing to you. Where women take you off and hold and play with you whilst we eat in a restaurant or type away on the internet. It’s incredible and genuine.

Moving Our Stuff Here...Finn shows his metal early on.

I love as well that that you played such a part in our geting our stuff through customs in Casablanca. Needing papers we had no chance of getting through “normal channels” we found a man who can, who almost did, but finally didn’t and that finaly ensuring safe passage of our material world, was as a result of you.

We’d sent over a container of our stuff from home. It was our first move as a family and obviously was slightly daunting, if for no other reason that your grandparents were so involved in the critical scrutiny of you and your mum (their little girl) being shipped off to GodKnowsWhere...you’ll find out why one day...phew can they be intimidating! But we sent our container and then had to get it off at the other end in Morocco.

(Not quite sure how granny and gran pa feel about our adventure!)

In Casa we ended up having our initial request for it’s entry refused by the Demi Boss of Customs, who wanted money to assist the whole process. We said no and he sent us to Le Chef. We waited an hour at the entry to his drab, concrete offices, during which time, guards, secretaries and general members of the waiting public, took hold of or played with you.

We waited and waited during which time we heard raised voices, pleas and were offered the sight of a grown man leaving his offices weeping.....what happens in there? Is what i was thinking! It’s got to be, very complicated...should I say expensive, to get through.

You charmed everyone in the offices Finn.

But then of course we had you, who smiled lovingly as you thrust yourself, cooing, in to the arms of the Chief of Customs Control in Casablanca...who of course melted. We joked about your first language being Deriger...noone mentioned forskins, but we bonded, and left in smles and hugs, the quickest our agent had ever seen.

He reminded us however, that he would be paying the Chef a small cadeau, the next day. That was understood. Our stuff cleared through customs, it arrived care of a camion that we guided in around police blocks, and entered with the help of four young lads who huffed and puffed our everythings up four floors and in to our flat. Our flat, which I have to say, I think is pretty good..but of course will be more so in summer!!!

Stuff for mum and dad.


And stuff for you too.

Our First Two Weeks here..On Reflection!

When I think about it, in our first two weeks we had to sack our architect who had failed to do any work for us over four months, have over a Yorkshire TV crew to do a program on us, find a doctor for you and manage your sickness, manage the drafting of sufficiently official documents to get our stuff off a boat, through customs, in to Fez and in to our flat. Those I suppose are the bigger things. But as we are finding out, every big thing is filed with little things...things that have to be done, offices visited, people seen, cancelled, seen again. Appointments made, cancelled, postponed, to be had next week, a way of doing things found.

Bex asleep and knackered, but keeping you warm.
When I worked with INGOs you had teams of local peope who did, and who knew how to do things. They knew who could help or hinder. Who and how to approach. Now we do that. It’s pretty challenging, a warren, a maze of unknowns, a few known unknowns, but oh so many unknown unknowns!!! Untill you realise that you didn’t know that you didn’t know that, it was blissfull ignorance..then it’s just blisfull knowledge of your ignorance.

A case in point was trying to find a new architect. Having sacked our architect, a friend who runs an estate agent here introduced us to his guy who was “wonderful, straight, and “The Man at the Baladier”...where they pass, or not, authorisations to build houses...”a very important man... and nice with it”. Alhumdolilah.

It turns out that he is of couse an architect and would happily act as our new architect, but will charge us 15% of the rebuild price to ensure that we can do anything we like on the site, and there won’t be any problems. What, I don’t think so..we don’t have an extra 15%, so we decline his offer, and he informs us that of course, any applications for any building permission, from all and any other architect in Fez, pass and are authorised hy ..Him!

Shit. What to do. 15% is robbery, but he might be able to block our application, or may need help in passing it. So we’ve decided to work with another architect, cheaper, straighter and doing what we want, for what we can afford. Will the plans get through the Balardiar...that’s now a known unknown.

Now of course we just need to find a team of workers, employ engineers, source materials, arrange transport, payments, “receipts”. And we are getting there, tho it often feels like scooping sand. Actually completing on something, getting it there, agreed in concise terms of who, how, where, when and for how much, is such a chalenge. But we have a mason, labourers, sack and donkey sources. We have ideas for prices, qualities and sources for materials, labour and transport.

We’ve got engineers, architects, topographers, lawyers and friends, pointing us in the right direction. Everyone scratches everyones back to some degree, at some time. And there are good guys, better guys and and other guys out there. And you need to know a Good guy. It realy is important to know a man who can, preferably several. As for us, well we’re learning, slowly, and with a little luck, we’re getting there...or at least a little closer

..Ish Alaah.

Daddys' Boy....great for hiding big bellies too!