The rain in Fes falls mainly on my head

When I named this blog ‘It’s Raining Here in Fes’, I really wasn’t lying.

As a Brit, I should be naturally able to forgive the rain. I mean, without rain, we’d have no subject of conversation most of the time. The skies would be an alarming shade of anything-but-grey, and the world as we know it would probably cease to exist.

Yet for some reason, the second it rains here, I feel remarkably hard-done-by. It’s such an unfair reaction, because after all, it’s still just the same water doing the same natural thing, but it makes me angry if it chooses to do it here. And it keep raining, alarmingly often, and alarmingly hard. I have a horrible feeling that after class this afternoon I will get drenched finding a taxi. Call it intuition.

Incidentally, I discovered earlier that many of my classmates feel the same as I do (see here) about certain members of our class. I’m going to re-iterate, I don’t dislike these people, they just annoy me, but it’s refreshing to know I’m not the only one who feels this way about them.

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