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!

Camping l'Océan Bleu, Mohammedia (Morocco 20800)

There would always be a price to pay for staying overnight in the heart of Rabat right by the walls of the souk. And it wasn't an excess of offal, that went down nicely. We were parked a stone throw away from a mosque. All the mosques here have loudspeakers at the top of their minarets. Unfortunately this one was pointing right at us. Sometimes the call to prayer is recorded. Here in Morocco they don't seem to be. Normally we find the sound quite soothing, last night's definitely wasn't. We could hear the chap tapping his microphone, testing, testing, can anyone hear me. He also shuffled papers, lost his way, stopped then restarted again. After having to put up with a few fart cars, as John calls them, cars with big exhausts, and the security dogs twice going ballistic, probably because of one of the many stray cats here entering the parking lot, Angela fell asleep, for about three hours, and then was abruptly awoken by the call to prayer! All that aside, we were able to step out from Marge this morning, walk into the souk where the stallholders were just opening up and meander along back street to the the Hassan Tower, a twelfth century minarete that was to be the tallest in the world. But it was never completed, and now stands at just forty four meters high. We weren't able to enter the tower, but we did visit the mausoleum where we saw the tombs of King Mohammed V, and his two sons, King Hassan II and Prince Abdullah. The ceiling in the mausoleum was extraordinary. We were lucky to have arrived at the tower and mausoleum before the crowds who were entering just as we left.

Coffee, Moroccan tea and pain chocolates at a Salon de The on the way back to Marge ended our time in Rabat. Time we'd really enjoyed. Leaving Rabat on roads of smooth tarmac with Marge complaining a little from the rough ride of yesterday, but she'll sort herself out as before, we passed the royal palace, heavily guarded, and made our way down the coast, stopping to look at some camels along the side of the road.

Tired from a disturbed night, and lots of walking around Rabat we spent the afternoon catching up on chores. Early evening a walk to the nearby supermarket for a few essentials before taking yet more dirham out at a cash machine. Cash is king here. We have a taxi booked for nine thirty in the morning to take us into nearby Casablanca, and return us later in the afternoon. So we really should get an early night.

Somehow, we don't think we'll need to set our alarm, there are chickens and a cockerel wandering around the campsite, and of course a mosque nearby, fortunately the call to prayer here is melodic and quite short.