Hotel Sid el Batach, Sidi Ishaq (Morocco 44134)

This morning our first salt water shower ever. The water wasn't very warm, but it certainly made Angela's hair feel soft. Originally today, we only planned to drive for around an hour to the town of Safi.

The drive there was slow and as we passed through the countryside no longer green but dry and dusty, the ground crying out for water, we passed many animals nibbling at the stubble left behind after the combine harvester had cut the crop. The cows thin, the bones of their rib cages showing, donkeys with heads bent looked at the ground with large sad eyes and sheep nuzzled the arid soil in hope of something more nutritious. Safi was a bustling noisy chaotic town.

We headed for some roadside parking recommended on park4night as a safe spot to leave Marge. This would be the first time we'd left Marge with a parking guardian and were a little worried. Of course a man descended on us talking about England, telling us people from Liverpool were called scousers, who'd have guessed? We talked football and quite a lot of other nonsense. Of course he wanted to show us around. As always in these situations we politely declined. With a little trepidation we left Marge, and walked to the castle ruins on the seafront, stopped for tea, coffee and pain chocolates at a cafe near to Marge and then walked to see the worlds largest ceramic tajine. Safi is famous for it's ceramics, and is also the sardine capital of Morocco. Before leaving Spain we stocked up on tinned sardines, and guess what, they are from Safi! It seems funny bringing them back to where their journey began. After shopping at Carrefour we decided Marge had been left for long enough. Obviously when we returned to her she was fine. We paid the guardian his fee of 10MD (80p), and after the 'chancer' asked if we could spare a little something for his friendliness, we gave him 5MD. This country seems to be one of the haves, and have nots. This man was most definitely a have not.

Our visit to Safi wasn't really enjoyable. In fact it was stressful. And the overnight parking lot was terrible, so we left and decided to drive for another hour and a half passing a huge phosphate processing plant until right in the middle of nowhere we eventually found Hotel Sid el Batach, despite no signage on the main road. A hundred metres from the shore, this smart hotel is being prepared for the season.

We are the only people here. For eight pounds a night they offer secure parking with the use of a toilet and shower in one of the very smart rooms. Just one downside. A dog that hardly stops barking. Hopefully the swell of the Atlantic will be louder.

And early this evening when the staff took a break from work, we were offered some of the corn on the cob they'd cooked. It was lovely, especially as we'd missed lunch today.

Camping Laguna, Oulidia (Morocco 24252)

Oh what a night! Dogs barking, donkeys braying, people somewhere talking until dawn broke.The peaceful spot, under the trees on the sand dunes turned out to be anything but. And to top it all amongst the sand was loads of dog mess from Tigres, the resident dog assigned to keep us safe. (John had three pairs of shoes to clean)!

So this morning we were both tired and tetchy. Yesterday we felt we were a very long way from home. Which we are, around 2,000 miles. People told Angela she would love Morocco. She isn't. So far it's O.K. She's yet to find the wow factor amongst the huge amount of rubbish, dust and dogs. She was however pleased to at long last be spending a night on a campsite with other people, mostly German, but that's O.K., sometimes it can feel a little lonely here. Oualidia, where we are now is described as a sleepy Moroccan coastal village. It's certainly is that. Thankfully there is not quite so much litter strewn everywhere as other places we've passed through.

The beach is nice and this afternoon we took a walk out to watch the sea crash into the rocks before rolling onto the shore. There's one thing to be said about the Atlantic Ocean, it's dramatic.

So hopefully tonight there will be no barking dogs, talking until it becomes light and donkeys braying. One thing we can say about the little donkey, it sure was pleased to see us, and kept showing it, if you know what we mean!

Certainly a lot happier than the poor thing we saw on the road today. 

Camping Plage Mrizika, Douar Jouamaa (Morocco 24000)

Another day, another campsite. The campsites here in Morocco are cheap. They are all very basic with toilets and showers. All are down at heal, but that aside so far they have all been clean. So after paying our fourteen pounds for two nights at Camping L'Ocean we set off into the mad, mad, world of driving in Morocco. Having experienced a few days of driving the rough roads through the countryside, today we took Marge onto some toll roads. She loved the smooth rolling tarmac, and we loved the fact we could stop at a service area for refreshments.

To access the parking area we drove through the fuel station. The guys shouted, 'why are you not stopping?'. Once we parked Marge they wanted to know where in England we were from. We always say Oxford. Then a cheery, 'welcome to Morocco', before they returned to man the fuel pumps. All seemed to go well on the toll roads as the pay booths were manned. All except one. Angela pressed the button, no ticket appeared. The impatient Moroccans tooted their car horns and Angela couldn't understand what was wrong. A lorry driver in the next lane told her to press the button. 'I have!'. With that he jumped down from his cab, took the ticket from the slot above her head and handed it to her. Well, what a stupid place to put the slot right up there. Obviously, so the lorry drivers could reach, but never the less. She'll know next time. Along the way we decided to stop off at Al Jadida to see The Portuguese Cistern, a underground reservoir, but it is closed for refurbishment. So instead we parked up, ate lunch and continued on driving right through a huge oil refinery.

The smell, air quality and terrible road surface was awful, and after a few miles, we were glad to have passed through this polluted area. What amazed us, were the number of homes close by. So here we are once again spending a night by the Atlantic ocean.

The little campsite in the sand dunes is empty except for us and Marge. The beach here is stunning, and there is not too much rubbish by Moroccan standards.

As we prepare to settle down for another night the sea lashes the shore, but we don't mind, we find the noise soothing. And for the record, tonight's campsite is just four pounds!

Camping l'Océan Bleu, Mohammedia (Morocco 20800) (day 2)

Rest day for Marge today. Casablanca has a large port and is a commercial hub. Even though it was a Sunday we just didn't want the stress of driving and parking in the city. Don't feel left out Marge, there's was no chance of meeting any Humphrey Bogart look a likes. The film Casablanca was actually filmed in Hollywood! We particularly wanted to visit the Hassan II mosque, built over nine hectares, some of it over reclaimed land from the Atlantic ocean. Our Moroccan taxi driver booked to take us there spoke little English, and didn't like football, normally a topic that breaks the ice. He did however think Morocco would beat Brazil when they played them in the upcoming world cup. Good luck there. His English may have been bad, his driving however appalling. And to think we have to contend with these taxi drivers when we leave the area tomorrow! Sorry Marge, it might be testing for you. We really enjoyed our visit to the mosque. It had a real wow factor. Our guide was informative, and spoke english which was great. Often when abroad the English get a raw deal when on guided tours. There were a number of guides who spoke various languages. 

Outside out taxi driver was ready to take us to the old Medina.

As it is Sunday a lot of the stalls were closed, but we didn't mind, we've seen many Medina's, and know there are many more coming our way. What interests us is walking the area and seeing other points of interest. Lunch was at at Moroccan restaurant.

Cous cous with vegetables, chicken and lots of very large chickpeas which don't agree with Angela. That aside the meal was delicious, and the two Moroccan guys providing musical accompaniment were funny. The backing music to their song, boom, boom, was the same for all their other songs. We tipped them a few dirham as they made Angela smile because they were so silly. Our taxi driver now returned from the mosque opposite was keen to leave. The outward drive had been bad, the return was positively dangerous. Some serious speed and tailgating. Angela was confident he wouldn't kill us as we hadn't paid him yet. The price for our trip out today with the taxi had been agreed at the campsite reception yesterday. However, upon our return the driver wanted another two hundred dirhams because of the increase in fuel prices. Angela refused, telling him our price had been agreed. John sought out a member of staff to speak to the driver. Suddenly all was fine! We were a little disappointed by the behaviour of our driver. During this visit, and when we flew to the coastal town of Agadir early last year we have not encountered behaviour like this in this country, in fact the total opposite. Angela thinks the taxi driver was given a stiff talking to by the staff member. At the end of the day with the internet we could leave a bad review for the campsite, which we won't. We think the driver may regret pulling the stunt. He'll probably not be asked to take customers on excursions again. Tomorrow we set off again. So today Angela decided to trim her own hair, and John was brave enough to ask her to tidy his. We think we look O.K. At the souk in Rabat we watched a barber cut a young man's hair whilst we ate our mixed meat sandwiches. Now we notice all the young men have a similar haircut. Very short at the sides, longer on top, a little like a monk. Angela was tempted, but didn't dare!