Agadir, Morocco

 

Back in December we vacated our warm comfy bed at 3 am on a cold winters morning in order to catch a 6.30 am flight to Krakow, Poland. Whilst the trip was fantastic, the early start was not for us, and we vowed never again. So why on Friday morning did we find ourselves doing it all again you may ask?

This time our flight was to Agadir, Morocco. We'd talked of driving here in Muddy Marge, (who we can report after a check-up appears to be in better shape than we thought), but felt a visit now, when the temperature is a bearable 25c would be a good idea to get the feel off the country. Unlike Europe, where we feel totally comfortable, Morocco is completely different. As soon as our Ryanair flight touched down uncomfortably, causing shrieks from some in the cabin, we were launched into a cacophony of organized chaos. Three planes arrived simultaneously therefore the queue through passport control and customs was long and slow. As we were spat out alongside other bewildered passengers into the dazzling Moroccan sunlight we were greeted by hundreds of drivers holding name cards. We knew 'Hampton' was unlikely to be among them. Angela had read on good old trip advisor that if we booked our ongoing transport to our hotel when booking this trip it would cost us fifty pounds. She, daughter of Sid, also read that a taxi would cost around twenty pounds. It was a no brainer. Now just to find a taxi available in all the commotion that surrounded us. Within a minute or so we were sorted and headed away from the smart airport buildings and palm tree lined dual carriageways where we were soon part of the 'real' Agadir. Dirty, dusty, and impoverished. At the roadside people scavenged amongst piles of rubbish, and others sat with vacant eyes staring at the constant stream of traffic. Had we made a wise choice coming here? Of course. Our hotel was well away from this area, near to the beach in a newly smart developed area purpose built for tourism. Once settled in, we were glad though that we'd witnessed the lives of some of the local people. It wouldn't have seemed right not to.

Our hotel room is spacious with a large bedroom seating area and large bathroom.We have views to the sea between some of the other hotels. Angela paid ten pounds to upgrade us to this larger room, it was money well spent. After a short walk out to buy water and crisps, necessary survival substance after a long day of travelling, we rested a while before walking to the Asian restaurant attached to the hotel where we treated ourselves to three dishes to share and wine for Angela!

When we left the restaurant the sun had slipped below the horizon. Stomachs full but tired, we were in bed before nine. We'd survived our first day. And Angela was happy. Despite the local people speaking Arabic, and some English, they also speak French. She'd somehow managed to book our taxi driver to collect us from the hotel next Friday at 7 am to return us to the airport. Fingers crossed. There'll be no stopping her now!