Morocco 2026

This morning we are not all at our best. A couple of people are down for the count. They have spent the night shivering and shaking uncontrollably along with many visits to the washroom. Others seem to be finished with the typical Moroccan breakfast and are absent from the breakfast table.  Each breakfast has its plusses and  minuses. This morning the bread is especially stale but there is amlou (almond butter), fresh orange juice, and yogurt available.

After breakfast it is out to the van with our luggage. The seating arrangement has been shuffled today and those who are not well are to sit in the front of the bus. This does not go over very well with some of the group but, by this time on the trip, Rudy and I are not surprised. OOhh! What’s that? There is a small conference between one member of our group and the tour leader. A few minutes later, the unhappy group member announces that she will leave the tour tonight!! She just can’t take the “constant sniping”. Well, that’s that. And just to emphasize how big the disconnect in this group is, another person in our group stated, as she got on the bus, “What I like best about this group is that we are like a family.” Hmmm. Yes. I could unpack that for you but I will let you extrapolate for yourselves. Starting tomorrow there will be one more open seat on the bus and we will all fight to be able to sit by ourselves.

Rudy and I always sit at the back of the bus. Rudy does this because it is the only place he can stretch out his long legs. I join him in solidarity and perhaps because it is sometimes a powder keg in the van. Rudy’s periodic “oophs” are at least predictable and usually harmless. He grunts for various reasons. One is that we have just gone over a bump and his back is jarred. Another could be that someone (mostly me) has said something a little stupid. Other times he just oophs.

Today we are headed to Kalaat M’Gouna, known as the “City of Roses”, for a tour through the rose extraction facility. And, of course, the gift shop. A couple of tour members buy a lot of souvenirs. Rudy is NOT one of them. He is especially not interested in the perfumes and unguents and creams made from the rose water and oil. In fact, he looks disgusted when I apply some to my hand. I guess I will be sitting away from him. Oh, I guess not, because there are no extra seats in the van. Don’t worry, all the tour members have slathered on all kinds of rose scented stuff so Rudy will just have to suck it up.

In this same shop there are other tourist trinkets. I am often reminded of travels with my kids and what they always wished to purchase. These two pictures are for Ez and his boys. They were always wishing for knives and swords and always had trouble bringing these dangerous weapons home. I don’t think these will make it through customs either.

Back into the van, another bit of a drive, a stop for lunch (where a picture of Matt Damon hangs on the wall indicating that he has dined here), and another drive to Ait Ben Haddou, a world heritage site. I hardly know where to begin here. As we drove in we passed the huge Atlas Studios where many famous movies and series such as Laurence of Arabia, Gladiator, Gladiator 2, and Game of Thrones were filmed.

After unpacking in our hotel, we meet for a late afternoon walk up into the ancient centuries-old walled village fortress of Ait Ben Haddou. This kasbah was on the ancient trading route to Marrakesh from the Sudan. It was an important fortress where grain, salt, and other goods were kept high in the citadel, protected against maurading people. The kasbah was  home to both Jews and Muslims who lived in harmony together. (Side note: Our guide tells about how his grandfather and the neighbours cried when their Jewish neighbours moved to Israel when the State of Israel was established). Our local guide, Mohammed, takes us through the village where he grew up. Between the ages of 10 and 26 he made money by carrying tourists across the river from the new village to the ancient kasbah. A number of years ago the government built a foot bridge and many people were sad because their livelihood was no more. He said that his family no longer lives in the old village because of an earthquake 3 years ago. Luckily everyone in the old village had crossed the river to the new village to attend a huge wedding and so no one was hurt. Many of the homes, including our guide’s family home, were completely destroyed. Today, the  government is rebuilding the house and he said the family would likely move back by next year.

The movie industry has done loads of films here. The three-towered gate was built especially for the movie, Laurence of Arabia, and was not a part of the original kasbah. It still stands because it was made in the 1960s, but anything that is built for a movie set these days must be taken down after the shooting, as required by the terms of becoming a UNESCO heritage site. The area where the arena for the film Gladiator was made has been taken apart.

After the tour of the kasbah we had the option of joining a ‘cooking class’ where we could learn to make chicken tajine — but by now many of us had eaten tajine plenty of times on the tour and were ready to eat something else. And most of us were too tired to take in one more activity today. A few of us ended up sitting in the lobby of our hotel eating cookies and chips and mulling over the big news of the day — tomorrow there would be one less passenger in our crowded tour minivan.

Today we left the pre-desert country for the magnificent High Atlas Mountain landscape, crossing the Tizin’Tichka pass at 2260m.

Along the way we made a few more ‘WC and coffee’ stops. Our first stop included a visit to an ‘Amlou’ presentation. We watched as some women demonstrated how they crushed almonds and extracted the oil. Then we were led into the ‘showroom’ (sales room?) and shown all the wonderful products that were made from the oil extracted from almonds.

Our next stop was at Zerkten. Across the road from the restaurant was a parking lot for tourist busses, from which tourists might view the mountains and maybe buy some souvenir trinkets from the sellers lining the street.

We headed into the Toubkal National Park, passing through small villages on winding mountain roads, and finally, after 5 hours in the minivan, arrived at the village of Imlil. We had repacked our luggage, putting only what we might need for our overnight stay up in the mountains in our backpacks. We left the rest of our luggage in the van, where our driver would spend the night watching over it. Our backpacks were loaded onto the backs of a couple of mules who would take them up to our mountain gîte.

And so began our 1-hour hike from Imlil up to the little village of Aremd. The hike was great! Not too strenuous, and although the air was cool, the climb was uphill enough so that we were not cold. There was snow in the mountains all around us. The village of Aremd is in the shadow of the third highest mountain in Africa.

Soon we arrived at our mountain gîte (a small, simple house). Our backpacks were already in the cabin, and our rooms were assigned to us by our tour guide. Accommodation here was multi-share, with four to six beds in each room. Dave and Marylou would get their own room. The four remaining men shared a room, while the women were divided into 2 more bedrooms. Each room had a small portable heater. All of us would share the 4 bathrooms and 3 showers.

Out on the patio, our host welcomed us with glasses of hot tea and a couple of big bowls of popcorn.

Michael and Lisa (the ‘Aussies’) and Naomi and I went for a walk through the small village and up into the hills. Men were herding their goats from off the roofs of their buildings into smaller ‘pens’ for the night. Mules also were herded home along the narrow rocky trails. Young children were kicking a soccer ball around in the ‘town square’. Women were busy cooking supper, some on an outdoor fire of little sticks.

When we got back to our gîte we sat down at two tables and our host brought out a dinner of delicious soup and bread, followed by a big dish of couscous and chicken. Fresh local orange slices served as dessert.

A workout on the trail up the mountain, fresh air, a big homemade dinner, and cozy blankets to keep us warm in the crisp cold night air — it didn’t take long until we were in our beds, doing our best to snore in harmony.

This morning I awoke feeling less than a hundred percent. Throughout the night my stomach rumbled and the feelings of nausea rolled over me but I was determined not to leave the warm bed and make my way down the freezing corridor to the washrooms. Despite feeling sick, I needed to walk back down the mountain. The fresh mountain air was wonderful and the walk down refreshing. When we reached the van, I was given the front seat. (reserved for those of us suffering from stomach upsets).

I spent the long drive to our next destination dozing in and out. We stopped at a woman’s cooperative in a small village. We were served a delicious lunch and, despite knowing better, I enjoyed some of the food. Among other things this women’s cooperative works with wool processing to produce rugs. Despite many setbacks and the earthquake 3 years ago that destroyed the operation, the women are back learning and developing projects to benefit the community. Even Rudy tried some artisan work. Who knows, he may take up handicrafts once we get home.

Back on the road to Essaouira, we by turns roasted, and were buffeted by warm winds from our open windows. The air conditioning is not working and so the cramped van has the added benefit of the lovely warm weather. Once in Essaouira, we stopped at our hotel and dragged our luggage to our room. I heard that many of our group went out to take in the sights and get oriented. I, however, climbed under the covers and slept on and off all evening and through the night with Rudy bringing me Spite and other things to help me feel better.

Today we had a ‘free’ day in Essaouira, a port town on the Atlantic coast.

When we went to bed last night, Naomi was really quite ill. But we both slept very well, and Naomi woke up feeling MUCH better — even better than she expected. We went down to the hotel lobby and I had a nice omelette and two cups of good coffee. Quite a few people in our group opted to go for a Hammam Experience, a traditional, multi-step bathhouse ritual focusing on purification, deep exfoliation, and relaxation. (I copied that from our tour brochure — I actually have NO idea what half that stuff means, and it’s not something I’m at all interested in. But Naomi would have gone for it if she hadn’t gotten so sick.)

Instead, the two of us went for a walk after breakfast. We found a way out of our Medina, and out to a big sandy beach. There weren’t many swimmers or sunbathers out in the cold Atlantic waters this morning. But as Naomi walked along the sand, she came upon a beach littered with broken tile pieces. She began collecting tile pieces to take home.

After we left the beach we went for a walk within the Medina. Naomi began taking photos of the interesting doors. There were lots of brightly coloured shops selling leather shoes and purses, slippers, scarves, Moroccan lanterns, and mosaics…you name it.

Eventually we ended up back in ‘our’ neighbourhood. It was around 2:00pm and we were hungry. Naomi wasn’t 100% sure that she should be eating something — but man, those Nutella crepes (or ‘CREEPS’, as the sign said) looked (and were) SO delicious she couldn’t resist. Nutella, banana, and strawberries for her, Nutella and a sliced up Snickers bar for me. So good, but so filling. Probably shouldn’t have done that — likely spoiled our supper, which we were both really looking forward to.

Before going back to our hotel I stopped by to pick up our laundry, which I’d dropped off yesterday evening.

At 5:00pm the tour group gathered in the lobby of the hotel for a meeting. Our tour leader went over the plans for the next couple of days and then also talked about some of the challenges she’d had with our tour, mostly apologizing for times where her instructions or communication hadn’t been as clear as she’d wish they were. She also mentioned some of the serious issues that a couple of group members had caused her (and all of us). And yes, she admitted that it was her first time as a group leader, and thanked us for our patience, etc. Unfortunately, the person who had created a lot of the problems for her was the one person who decided NOT to attend the meeting.

We had plans to go out for a 7:00pm dinner together with the Driedgers and the ‘Aussies’ (Schillers) but since we still had an hour to kill, the six of us ventured upstairs to the rooftop of our hotel to watch the sunset.

Michael and his wife Lisa had been out for dinner the night before and one of them had had the ‘John Dory’ fish, which Michael said was the best he’d ever tasted. I didn’t know that John Dory was a fish, so I was very interested in trying it. So were MaryLou and Naomi. Michael had made reservations for us at a restaurant that served John Dory. And yes, the John Dory fish was SUPER delicious! The only thing missing from our evening dinner was that those beautiful wine glasses on our table would not have any wine in them. Our server apologized; he said he too would happily drink a glass of wine with the meal, but hey, it’s Ramadan, and there would be no alcohol served.

Back at our hotel, Naomi packed her bags. We have to get up very early tomorrow, have a quick breakfast, and then we’re off on a 3-hour drive back to Marrakesh, where we will be for the final 2 days of our group tour, and another 2 days for just the Driedgers and us — to have a break and decompress from our 15 days of go-go-go. It’s been a fun tour, but it’ll be great to just relax and do nothing for a few days.

Well, a trip would not be complete for me if I didn’t put up a gallery of beautiful entranceways. I have resisted the urge so far but today is the day. Vinyl windows and doors of the world, you have nothing on traditional Moroccan handiwork. Some of these doorways are centuries old.

But I need to get back to our actual days events. After a hurried breakfast this morning we threw our bags into the push cart that would ferry them to our van outside the old city of Essaouira and walked to our pickup area. We took our usual seat at the back of the van and headed off for Marrakesh. This was to be the day of reckoning for me. This would be the destination I had been dreading. Was I afraid of the big markets that would entice me to spend all my money? Was I dreading the end of the tour when I would have to say goodbye to all the daily drama? What could it be? Well those of you who know me well, will recollect that I am desperately afraid of snakes. And yes, the rumours were that the market was filled with nefarious snake charmers who were lying in wait for people like me. Supposedly they would race up to me, throw a snake around my neck, and refuse to remove it unless I gave them a specified amount of cash for the dubious pleasure of having my picture taken with the reptile. This would not only be traumatizing for me in the moment but, would retraumatize me every time I viewed the picture or even hear the word Marrakesh spoken inadvertently. Well I am happy to report that none of this occurred. I was on high alert all day and if anyone even brushed my shoulder in the market I jumped right out of my skin. But the guide was kind and steered clear of the snake area and although I could hear, in the distance, the haunting (and nightmare inducing) sound of the flutes calling the snakes to rise I did not come in contact with any of these reptiles.

But, before we even got to the main souk (or market), we toured a couple of sights. The first was the Saddian Tombs. My takeaway from this sight was the astonishing fact that these beautiful buildings and tombs were only rediscovered in 1971 despite being in the centre of the city, The entranceways had been blocked off when a new dynasty destroyed the Saddians in 1668. Due to the nature of the thick-walled buildings and small alleyways in the old medinas, it is not always easy to determine the layout of an area.  And so for hundreds of years no one noticed that there was something unknown behind the walls. Initially after the end of the dynasty,  the Saddian people were afraid of the new rulers and the hatred toward them, and kept the location of the tombs of the royal family a secret. Eventually this knowledge was lost to subsequent generations. Although the site was interesting, the sun was blazing hot, and the lineups long and so we were glad to move to the next attraction.

We stopped next at the Bahia Palace that was built in the 1890s for the prime minster. It was ornate and glorious and the technology of thickened walls and placement of doors and windows to keep areas cool for meeting with foreign dignitaries and businessmen was impressive. This prime minister had 4 wives and each had a separate area in the complex. One of the wives was very intelligent and educated and spoke many languages and she had a room with bookcases for her study. She was the main advisor to the Prime Minister and would sit outside the doorway to the meetings and listen to all the conversation in many languages and then would tell him what would be the best course of action.

And then it was off to the souk (market) and my attempt to avoid the snakes. As I mentioned above I succeeded in this respect. By this time we were tired and hungry and so we stopped for lunch and then on back to our new hotel. It is a slightly dated place but there is a large pool and, much to our surprise, a place to get a cold beer. Rudy and Dave were delighted.

By this time I had received news that my newest granddaughter had been born and I spent much of the rest of the evening gazing at pictures of her. So lovely to have her to make an appearance. I can barely wait to see her in person.

Well, this probably isn’t the right thing to say, but MAN, it sure feels good to know that we won’t be seeing that dented white minivan again. We are in Marrakesh, the last stop on this tour. After unloading our luggage yesterday, we handed our driver Abdul some tip money and said goodbye. And then, to make our joy complete, upon checking into our hotel, the manager informed us that “the bar is open”!  It’s been a while…

We and the Driedgers both booked an additional 2 nights at the Marrakesh Oudaya Hotel to the two that were already booked for us by the tour. Might have been a mistake. The hotel is rated 3.2 on google and I’d say that is generous. But it is so great to finally be able to leave the suitcase open for more than one night before having to repack and load it into the van. So we’re hanging out here until Sunday. Last night Naomi and Dave ‘shopped’ Airbnb and booked a place down in Agadir for a week, beginning Sunday. Looking forward to that.

That sore and swollen ankle of mine hasn’t really improved very much in the 2 weeks since Casablanca. So today I’m sitting in bed with my leg raised up on a pillow, hoping that staying off it a bit will help.

Well, if a guy doesn’t DO anything all day, there will be precious few photos to post. Naomi got a text from the Aussies who were back from their early morning balloon ride, inviting her to join them for an afternoon of shopping. So off she went. I read the New York Times, did Wordle and all the rest of the puzzles,  and watched a few Youtube video highlights of the late night talk shows. Then I went out for a walk around the neighbourhood. There’s a big beautiful cinema just around the corner from us — we’ll have to go see a show one evening. I had a coffee at the hotel cafe. Back in the room to do a couple of crosswords. Dave texts me: Time for a beer? We meet at the hotel bar. MaryLou joins us. Naomi comes through, home from shopping, off to the room for a shower. Hey, look who’s sitting two tables down! It’s Mia, the woman who left the tour a few days ago.

The tour group ‘Last Supper’ is scheduled for 6:45; meet in the lobby at 6:30. Which we do. Some of the people are all dressed up fancy. Alex and Suzanne have opted NOT to join. But Mia WILL be joining us. And so we march off to a restaurant that’s about 3 blocks from the hotel. We’re in the big room upstairs, where the table is set for us. (It’s still okay for folks to smoke inside in a restaurant here in Morocco!) We have one smoker in our group, but the rest of us don’t really appreciate cigarette smoke wafting over our dinners.

Food is good. Service? not so much. Dave and MaryLou’s pizza arrives long after everyone is finished eating. Then Vikram stands up invites each of us to say something that we liked about the trip and our leader. We’ve already each passed our little bundles of ‘tip’ money down to Vikram, and after each of us has had a chance to tell about a highlight of the trip, he hands the packet of money to Malika, our tour guide.

So we’ll postpone movie night to tomorrow — our movie was to start at 9:00pm, and we were already 10 minutes past that time by the time we’d each spoken our piece.

The tour is officially over. A last few stragglers were still present at breakfast but most had caught a taxi to the airport by mid morning. For the most part they are all travellers and are off to places like London, Paris, Istanbul, Spain, and more.

The day stretches ahead. I am sure there are many things to do in this large city but we are done with sights and tours and will spend the day on more mundane things. After spending some time in the cramped quarters of our room, I decided to venture out to explore. My expectations are low. So far I have not seen much in this area of the city to interest me. It is just basically a large urban centre with loads of traffic and commercial buildings and restaurants around us. Because it is Ramadan, a lot of places aren’t open or are almost completely empty. Before I go out I accompany Rudy to the restaurant in the hotel and share a bit of food with him. Then he is off to a movie at a huge movie theatre just around the corner from our hotel and I am going to search out a garden/park that I passed on the way home from the market yesterday. I have my camera ready at hand to take pictures of any interesting sights.

But before I write about sights, let me tell you about the dangers that a pedestrian faces when navigating the sidewalks and streets in Morocco. Although there are traffic and pedestrian lights it seems that they are just suggestions. Because of the massive roundabouts (often 8 streets coming together), there are always a number of cars or half a dozen motorbikes approaching the area where I would like to cross a street. The Moroccan way of crossing is just to head out into the traffic with your head down. Miraculously, vehicles swerve around you. Most Moroccans continue across without even flinching. I, however, do a comical little tourist dance.  My face is contorted into a look of terror as I start. I jump to the left, my body gives a jerk of fear, I race a few steps, I grab the arm of anyone beside me, and then I finally scuttle the last few steps. My heart is racing and my body shaking with fear, but I have finally made it across.

Anyway, on the way to the park I see some strange and not-so-strange sights. Firstly, this very top notch tourist hotel has had some issues with the placement of letters on the sign. (Check the photos below to find the mistake.) This city is known as the “red city” and most of the buildings are painted shades of orange, brown, and red. There are “laundromats” on street corners that are basically glass rooms with laundry machines inside. The fashion industry is doing its best to follow the important designer names (with small changes). Calvin Klein has become Ghlain Klain. There is weird modern art in the small parks along the way (same as in Canada). And of course there is the obligatory thick wall of the city built centuries ago.

The garden is less than impressive but I while away my time there anyway. I pinch some of the leaves and smell them. I have begun to do this in order to identify some of the bushes and plants here. I am astonished as to how many of them have pungent odours which I am sure are used in herbal remedies and perfumes. Today I crushed some orange blossoms. Wow, the scent is intense and beautiful. Also crushed another minty menthes type plant.

We are getting tired of Moroccan food so tonight we went out for Thai food with MaryLou and Dave. After that we walked around the corner to a massive movie theatre to watch the movie, Marty Supreme. The theatre was massive, seating 750 people, and featured an opening roof. But there were few people at the show tonight.

Today is the last day in Marrakesh and I am so glad that MaryLou is determined that we not waste our time. No lolling about and wishing to be on to the next destination. After breakfast I came back to the room to finish my blog from yesterday and then at 10:30 we headed out to the Yves St. Laurent museum and Majorelle garden. It is a 25 minute walk. Rudy has decided to stay back and nurse his sore ankle and to work on setting up a drop box (or something similar) for the 100th Year Stobbe Reunion. I can’t be grateful enough to have that job to be done by him, rather than me.

Once we get to the museum we find that we need to book our tickets online and when we log in to do it we find that we can only get in at 1:30 (it is 11:00 am) to the Yves St. Laurent museum. There are no spaces left to see the Jacques Majorelle Garden or the Berber Museum today. MaryLou and I book tickets and Dave decides he will head back after we wander a bit, look in some art galleries and have a cup of coffee. The woman at the gallery is very informative and we see some art that is significantt in Moroccan art history. Unfortunately I do not remember any of the artist’s names except for Jacques Majorelle. (Due to reflection and small spaces the photographs do not do justice to the artwork.)

W head down the pedestrian avenue. It is obviously a tourist area. Loads of people are strolling past the numerous coffee shops. We stop for a coffee and sit for an hour visiting and then Dave heads back to the hotel and MaryLou and I head back to the museum.

I am not particularly interested in a fashion museum but am game for the experience. Upon entering the first exhibit, I immediately become very excited. The first salon features the work of David Seidner as one of the photographers of the fashion house of Yves St. Laurent. The work is incredible. Unfortunately we were not allowed to take pictures, but the lighting, movement, line, and composition of the photos was stunning and inspiring.  The next exhibit was even better. Yves was initially interested in stage and costume design. From the age of 7 he created stages and figures out of cardboard and designed shows. The museum features loads of his sketches as well as actual costumes for plays, ballet, musicals, and more. (Again, there was no photography allowed except of a few pictures in the lobby.)

We ended our museum experience watching a short film about his fashion design. After viewing the costuming part of the museum, I could really appreciate the far-out designs. I especially liked the collection that was Moroccan inspired.

For dinner Rudy and I headed back to the Thai restaurant that we had dined at yesterday. It did not disappoint. Tomorrow we are off to Agadir.

Woke up at 7:00AM. Dave was texting me. There’s a problem with the transportation he’d booked for today. The van that was supposed to take us from Marrakesh to Agadir had ‘cancelled’ our reservation. So I went online with the ‘inDrive’ app — where you put in your destination and invite drivers to ‘bid’ on your ride. A minute or two later I had 5 drivers offering to take us to our next destination. Mohamed offered to drive us in his black Dacia, a car built in Morocco. I thought I was getting a roomy car, since I’d asked for a car that could take FIVE passengers, even though there were just 4 of us. But we all have luggage, and the prospect of sitting in the middle of the back seat, squeezed in between two others, didn’t seem like a pleasant way to spend 3 hours on the road. Although Mohamed had bid on driving us for 479 MAD, once I connected with him the price went up to 700 MAD (about $100CAD). Highway tolls, he said. Okay, I said.

So after breakfast at our hotel, we went back to our room and packed our bags. Man, we are looking forward to sitting in one place for a week straight without having to pack and repack. At around 11:00 Mohamed was at our hotel. He texts me to ask if we can meet him at the BACK door of the hotel. Okay, we can do that. We haul our backpacks and suitcases out to the sidewalk. Now where is that black Dacia car?? Well, there’s a dirty black car parked right here on the road. Now my WhatsApp starts beeping. The driver is not in the car, but he’s telling me that the black car is not locked — we should just get in the car. Now the trunk pops open. We start to pile our luggage into the trunk. The driver shows up and tells us to jump into the car and he does the same. And off we go.

Apparently inDrive (and Uber) are illegal in Morocco, and there were a couple of taxis on the road next to his car, hoping that we needed a taxi. And if they’d seen us getting into the car they would have reported the driver and he’d get a big fine and have his car taken away for 3 days. But then the taxis left, so it was okay for us to get in the car. And now we are IN the car, and the driver assures us that now it’s no problem. Once we’re on the toll road we can make good time and not worry about getting stopped by police.

And we DO speed along. The driver doesn’t slow down even when it seems the lane is not wide enough for us. After about 2 hours of driving we stop for a short coffee and bathroom break. About 45 minutes from the finish line the driver takes an exit off the freeway, drives through the unattended toll gate, then does a quick 180 turn and flashes his RF toll device and we’re back on the freeway. He explains that this is a little ‘trick’ whereby he can ‘save’ a little money and ‘eat better’. I deduce that there was no one to collect the toll for the first 3/4 of the trip, and he’ll only pay for the last quarter.

Along the way Mohamed and I chat. He is friendly, speaks pretty good English, and doesn’t mind ‘visiting’. He is proud of his country, has been and inDrive driver for 2 year, is saving money so he can go to a ‘non-Morrocan’ university so he can brush up on his degree in finance, which doesn’t meet international standards and prevents Mohamed from working in finance.

We arrive in Agadir. Mohamed offers to make a pit stop at a liquor store where foreigners can buy booze. We have to show our passports before entering, to prove that we are not Moroccan citizens who SHOULD be fasting and ‘celebrating’ Ramadan. We clamour back into the car and 5 minutes later we’re at our very new apartment complex. We gather up our luggage and beer and head into the complex. The security guard in the gate office wants to see our passports and copies the info into his ledger. He leads us to entrance ‘K’, up to the 4th floor, apartment number 16. We enter and are met by the local caretaker of the unit. She is lovely. She proceeds to answer our questions as she gives us a tour of the apartment. The place is brand new, and it’s very nice. The Driedgers take the room with 2 single beds, and Naomi and I get the bigger bedroom with the ensuite. The living room is spacious and well furnished, as is the kitchen. Dave does a load of laundry.

At around 5:00PM we head out. There’s not much happening on the big street that separates us from the beach. We cross the street and find a wide, well-lit concrete and stone ‘boardwalk’ that we can follow along the shoreline. It’s not busy, at least not yet. We go for a walk. Yes, there are quite a few restaurants. No, most of them are not open — yet. It’s Ramadan and most restaurants don’t open until folks can break their daily fast, just after sunset. But there are a few restaurants. I suggest we go to the one that advertised wood-fired pizzas. We do that. The women order humongous salads, while Dave and I each order a pizza. And we share.

It’s cold out. The breeze coming off the Atlantic is not a warm one. We go back to our beautiful apartment and sit around until 9:00PM. The Jets are playing San Jose at 1:00PM Pacific time, which is 9:00PM here. I can get the game on my computer but I can’t seem to AirPlay it to the big LG TV on the wall. So Dave and I sit on the couch and peer into my laptop screen. Then, halfway through the third period, I start fiddling with the ‘IPTV’ app on the TV and whadayouknow! I can get all our Canadian channels, including TSN, on TV!

I guess I should have left well-enough alone. The Jets were leading 1-0 until I put them on the big screen — and they couldn’t handle that. Quickly the Sharks tied it up, and quickly they won the game in overtime. Okay, it’s midnight and time for bed. See you tomorrow.

In the morning, after a LONG sleep in a super comfy bed, we determine that coffee is the first order of business. Off we go and today we turn right and head to the marina. We think this is our best bet to find something to drink and maybe a pastry. We cross a couple of busy streets, Moroccan style, and head into the marina. I have figured that it is best to cross a street hugging the shadow of a local. They seem to have confidence that they will not be hit by the speeding vehicles. We wind our way through the tall white apartment complexes and finally find a row of restaurants along the wharf. But there is little sign of life at most of them. This is Ramadan and, after celebrating all night, most businesses don’t open up very early. We finally find one cafe with a young man working inside and he says that he will be open in 10 minutes. We are beginning to understand what 10 minutes means, here in Morocco. It just means not now, but later sometime. We walk to the end of the wharf looking at the boats. When we return it is not yet time. We wait awhile and finally give up and head back to the boardwalk section of the beach.

We find the one open restaurant and we have crepes with banana and Nutella for Dave, Rudy, and me and yogurt with fruit and nuts for MaryLou.

Next, we need to get supplies for the week. Dave and I volunteer to go shopping. It is close to a 2 km walk and we are a little hot and sweaty when we arrive. There are 2 large grocery stores side by side so we toss a coin and enter 0ne of them. Shopping at home can be a long drawn out affair and here it is no different. We have to search many aisles over and over to find what we need. Products are different and some hard to find but we stock up, purchase the items, and head for a long walk home. (Interestingly I notice maple syrup made in Canada on the shelf.) I don’t know how far the walk to the store actually was but when I check my steps upon arrival at our place I find we have walked over 10 kms (some in search of a restaurant and the rest to the grocery store and back).

MayLou cooks dinner for us tonight. The spaghetti bolognese is delicious, but the red wine not so much. The men watch a documentary and then the Jets hockey game and MaryLou and I retire to our rooms.