Conversations with 8 year olds

Some funny things my students say...

Ms Balogh, its ok if you don't have a husband. You can marry my dog, Spotty. He will keep you warm and kiss you.

(When performing a little play of The Three Little Pigs)
Child 1: What are you doing little pig?
Child 2: I am digging in my garden.
Child 1: Why?
Child 2: I need to pick some... carrots. I am making tajine.

(For their News day) Today I am going to talk about my favorite cars. I have a Lamborghini, a Ferrari and a French car.
Class: You don't have those cars.
Child: Yes I do. They are in my garage. The Ferrari is red, and the Lamborghini yellow. My grandfather gave them to my dad. They go very fast.

Koalas are very slow, because they are fat.

And the not so funny...
If I don't get an A+ my mum is going to put a gun to my head.

Don't p#ss on my street!

Eww! So Marrakech is full of ups and downs. One thing I do enjoy is walking out of our building and hearing the starlings in the green trees, seeing the cats leaping from planter pots, and saying Salaam to the street guardians. One thing I cannot stand however, is the disgusting smells that make their way up into your nose. Today for example, upon leaving the apartment, the street guardian was washing down a tree with a bottle of water. The tree needed to be washed because some filthy man decided it was a toilet.

Also, at the weekend, about 4pm I noticed a well-dressed man urinating on the first tree of our street! Out in the open. I saw everything! Disgusting, I know! As well as the fact that I live on that street, I thought that behaviour, especially at 4pm, was appalling. So I yelled at him. Loudly. I caused a scene so that other people would notice, and perhaps be able to shout at him in a language he would understand. Gross. He yelled back as I threw lewd hand gestures at him and walked into my building. I got everyone to notice. I hope when he is sober, or perhaps on another inevitable drinking binge, his conscience clicks and he feels some urge not to use the trees as a urinal.

Eww.

Mmm, Moroccan Mandarins

We have been eating at least 2 kilograms of mandarins a week here in Marrakech. They are really, really, good. When passing a fruit vendor and eyeing his produce, he will always pick up a glossy skinned mandarin, tear it in half, and then hand it to you to taste. Always delicious. Always fresh. Never, ever, do I buy them from Acima (the western-style grocery store), where the fruit is no longer attached to the green leafy stem.

The perfect leaves are a tell-tale sign of super fresh fruit. After a few days, the leaves curl and lose their shine. You will never find old fruit at a fruit vendor. Mandarins are too popular and too delicious to go bad.