Agadir, Morocco (day 4)

Up before the sun, we were down for breakfast at seven thirty. The dining room was in darkness. It appears that breakfast now begins at eight. Shame nobody bothered to amend the details on the hotel website. So at eight we returned, hastily ate and drank to be ready for our pick up at eight thirty. Message from driver, pick-up now eight forty. We were exhausted before even leaving the building. Our driver liked to be called Simba, yes, after the lion king. Already in his slightly battered Mitsubishi 4 x 4 were an Indian family. Mum and three daughters. As we set off on our journey into the unknown we all chatted with ease. First stop, the river where at least twenty other similar vehicles joined us.

The day continued. Stopping and starting at various random destinations.

A silversmiths, honey/argan oil shop, viewpoints, by a beach with troglodytes dwellings where fisherman lived, and of course a stop in the Sahara desert.

Not a great big expanse of the Sahara, but an area known as Little Sahara.

Awaiting us were camels to ride, traditional heads scarfs to buy and a photo opportunity with reptiles. Not for Angela. After a while though, she thought why not. Not like her at all. Eighty pence well spent. Time had passed by quickly, and we moved across to the village opposite for lunch. Yet more chicken tangine, cous cous and mint tea. Then a stop at a nearby dam followed, where the water level could be seen to be much lower than it should. There has been no rain in the region for six years. The water supply for all the hotels in Agadir is sourced from the sea. Desalinated first of course. The day had been a strange one. But enjoyable. We'd met lots of nice people from other countries. Seen more of the real Morocco, including some campsites. Now know the Moroccans are crazy drivers who are happy to take your life in their hands. But the day though belonged to our Indian ladies seven year old daughter. At lunch we talked of our plans over the next ten years and the fact there is still so much world to see before perhaps our health dictated otherwise. The little girl said she thought we looked O.K. to her, and she didn't think we were going to die yet. Good to know. Could we have that in writing please! 

Agadir, Morocco (day 3)

'Feel the fear, but do it anyway', are Angela's latest words of wisdom. So today it was time for her to practice what she preached, gird her loins, and take the cable car up to the Agadir Ouffela cable car station, 1756 feet above the commercial fishing port. So off we set on the hour long walk, taking in the beach and smart hotels. Leaving behind the quieter area where our hotel is.

Suddenly we felt we'd arrived on the Costa del Sol, Spain. Today though, no stopping to dip our toes in the waters of the Atlantic. Angela had to take the trip, she herself planned, up to the Kasbah.

Nerves peaking, she decided eyes right and left and not up or down was the answer to avoiding a full on panic attack. John commented, that if James Bond was with us he'd probably be up on the roof of our car, or gondola as it should be referred to. Ironically our return gondola was numbered 007.

Eight minutes of nerve-racking  discomfort, and underwear still dry, we arrived.

The kasbah at the top affords spectacular views along the coast and towards the mountains. Until an earthquake in 1960 within it's walls lived a peaceful community. Now it's the towns most visited attraction.

And of course we were offered camel rides, photographs with small sad looking horses and trinkets from sellers. There's no escaping the persistence of the Moroccan people whose lives depend on pushing their wares. And who could really blame them?

Another eight minutes of hell for Angela and she was happily back on terra firma. Now time for lunch, we googled some local restaurants and found one that looked like it would suit us. Olives and bread and a tangine of delicious chicken with olives and preserved lemon.

We sat outside the restaurant in a shady spot and listened to the call to prayer from the nearby mosque. A young waiter rushed out the door with his mat to partake. Our host was pleasant and fun. Finding it highly amusing when Angela asked if there was a toilet she could use. Pointing across the road to the bushes sent him into convulsive laughter. That wouldn't worry Angela. She's visited many a bush whilst cycle touring. But today wasn't the time or place, so she used his restaurant loo. Now we are tired, having walked around 15,000 steps. Tomorrow we are off on a 4 x 4 trip to the Sahara desert. A much more preferred mode of transport for Angela. Lunch is included, so probably another tangine (no eyeballs for John, please).

Agadir, Morocco (day 2)

Despite an early night, this morning we were still tired. But determined to begin exploring the area we ventured down to the restaurant for breakfast where a continental selection was laid out, complete with that all time favourite breakfast food, pizza! Not seen that before! We both thought today it would be a good idea to take a walk to the nearby Souk El Had, an indoor market of around 6,000 stalls. Five minutes into the half hour walk a man joined us. Of course his English was very good, and he talked all the time he walked with us, which unnerved us a little so we kept a discreet lookout at what was going on around us as we followed him to the Souk, where he of course led us straight to his friends spice stall! We'd been reeled in, as we thought we were probably going to be. Following advice on the internet we politely listened whilst we were talked through the benefits of the different spices. Thanking the stall holder for his time, we left empty handed.

From then on as we wandered through stalls selling furniture, argan oil, dates and nuts, sweets, toys, clothing, footwear, ceramics, cows heads and infact almost any item you might want to purchase, we were constantly approached by the stall holders asking us to look, try and buy. Most weren't pushy though, and we made sure we thanked them all as we passed by.

Around midday, out heads in a spin with the full attack on all our senses, we stopped for coffee and mint tea. Wanting to relax a little, Angela wanted to stretch her legs out, but daren't for fear of leaning back and dislodging the obvious hairpiece worn by the man sat behind her. We discussed what we would like to buy at the market and thought an item of ceramics might be nice. Even though it might not be produced locally, it would make a nice memento of our visit here. We particularly like the large round plates, but transportation home might be a problem. With only cabin baggage, measurements would need to be checked before we decided. Upon our arrival at the market we'd stopped at a food stall to look at a row of earthenware tangine cooking.

Deciding it would be nice to eat an authentic Moroccan dish for lunch we returned there and ordered one chicken and one vegetable. It was delicious, and with a side of bread and lentils cost only £5.60 for us both. 

Leaving the Souk we sidestepped two Gharrib's,  brightly dressed men who move through the crowds ringing bells and calling out, offering water from their filled goatskin bags and brass cups. Returning to our hotel mid afternoon we were well and truly pooped. Cheese, olives and crackers bought for a light meal tonight, we couldn't wait to dress in lighter cooler clothing and relax. Today our first proper day in Agadir had gone well. Tomorrow we will probably stay local again, but also book a couple of trips out further a field for later in the week. Our hotel manager has been persistent in insisting we book through him, but before we decide we will put our trust in good old Google!

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!