Afternoon in Casablanca

So I don't speak French and everyone in Casa only speaks French (& / or Arabic I guess)
They can still listen to Lady bloody GaGa on the radio but not understand a word I'm saying!
I bet that meat dress wasn't halal.

It was easy when all I wanted was a coffee and a croissant, but any more complicated requests are .. well, friggin complicated and generally unfulfilled.
I managed to get a local SIM card for my phone by having the doorman accompany me to a dark hole in the wall shop and buy it for me. I felt like a circus animal juggling my phone, sunnies and fists full of unidentified bank notes: the crowd of locals appreciated it at least.
Very nice of the doorman I thought, till he ripped me off with his "conversion" fee (lesson learnt) needless to say I've sorted the currency out now.