Our Itinerary

Day1	Thursday	20/04/2023	Sydney to Hong Kong (9hrs plus 2hr layover) to Dubai (7hrs)
Day2	Friday	21/04/2023	Dubai to Kuwait (2hrs) to Casablanca (7hrs)
Day3	Saturday	22/04/2023	Casablanca to Tangier (train 3hrs)
Day4	Sunday	23/04/2023	Tangier to Chefchaouen (bus 2.5hrs)
Day5	Monday	24/04/2023	Chefchaouen to Fez (taxi 3.5hrs)
Day6	Tuesday	25/04/2023	Fez
Day7	Wednesday	26/04/2023	Fez to Meknes (train 1hr)
Day8	Thursday	27/04/2023	Meknes to Moulay Idris & Volubulis to Marrakech (train 6hrs)
Day9	Friday	28/04/2023	Marrakech
Day10	Saturday	29/04/2023	Marrakech
Day11	Sunday	30/04/2023	Marrakech to El Jadida (train 3hrs)
Day12	Monday	01/05/2023	El Jadida
Day13	Tuesday	02/05/2023	El Jadida to Casablanca (train 1hr)
Day14	Wednesday	03/05/2023	Casablanca to Kuwait (7hrs)
Day15	Thursday	04/05/2023	Kuwait to Dubai (2 hrs) to
Day16	Friday	05/05/2023	Hong Kong (8hrs plus 9hr layover)  Hong Kong (9hrs) to
Day17	Saturday	06/05/2023	Sydney 6.15am

Wednesday 19th April, 2023          

Newcastle to Sydney

We’re both at work today. I’m with Aruma at the Ida Street hub and Mark is working from home to look after Abi who’s off school as she’s not feeling well. At 3 o’clock Lauren drives us to Broadmeadow Station with Abi. Elkie is having a sleepover at Lily Rose‘s place. We catch the 315pm train to Sydney’s Central Station and then another train to Museum where we walk up to Jillian and Michael’s apartment in Surrey Hills.

After leaving our bags the four of us walk around to Madame Nhu near the Hollywood Hotel where we’ve been with them before. Madam Nhu is tiny – it only sits about 20 people tops including the little mezzanine area. It has a great Vietnamese atmosphere and the food is just as good. We have a few drinks here and a few more at home but in bed by 9 o’clock as Mark and I have to leave super early in the morning.

Thursday 20th April, 2023          

Sydney to Hong Kong to Dubai

The alarm wakes us at 4 am and we quietly make our way downstairs where we ring an Uber to take us to the airport. Here it looks like we have to use the kiosks to check in our bags but they’re useless as always – everyone has to keep asking a staff member to help them, so what’s the point?

Anyway we finally get to the Cathay Pacific check-in counter where we find that, for some reason, we have seats not only in different rows but on opposite sides of the plane – will sort it out when we get on board – hopefully someone will swap seats with us.

For breakfast we have toasted sandwiches, Mark a coffee and I have a hot chocolate.  At duty-free there is no normal Bacardi so instead I buy vodka and lemon Bacardi plus a small bottle for the plane.

The flight is half an hour late which ends up being a good thing as there seems to be a stuff up with my check-in bag and I’m called to the counter in the departure lounge. They soon sort it then kindly fix our seats for the Sydney to Hong Kong flight plus Hong Kong to Dubai flight which also had us sitting on opposite sides of the plane!

On board we find that Mark has an amazing seat since the row in front of us has only two seats so he has full legroom on his window seat plus we have a spare seat in between us! Mark sleeps for four hours while I watch a few movies – The Banshees of Inisherin, After Sun, Women Talking – all good but all depressing!

With our great seats the nine hour flight passes fairly quickly and we’re soon landing in misty Hong Kong. The layover is only one and a half hours so we spend the time in the transfer lounge. As usual we see lots of Indians in wheelchairs while others are trying to sneak into the queues – a cultural thing.

Boarding the next flight, our small Bacardi is confiscated – fuck! – then we find that our great seats are no more and we’re actually in the middle of the plane with no spare seat so it’s a long and uncomfortable eight hour flight with only snatches of sleep. The food is good though and we’re excited to be landing in Dubai at 10pm.

After passing through immigration and picking up our bags Mark withdraws some UAE Dirham then I decide to pick up a bottle of Bacardi from duty-free. It’s here that I have a dramatic stack on a puddle of orange juice, falling hard on my right side. The top of my thigh and top of my arm are sore already and I have a bleeding gouge on my right arm. Security calls for a couple of nurses to come and check me out. They bandage up my arm and insist we go to the hospital – I don’t think so! I just want to buy that Bacardi and hightail it to our hotel.

Outside we easily grab a taxi to drive us to the historic Al Fahidi neighbourhood where we’ve booked a room at the Al Seef Heritage Hotel, Curio Collection by Hilton. I’d looked through booking.com for somewhere to stay here in Dubai and, typically, all I could find was the usual sterile, soulless high rise hotels. Then up pops the amazing Al Seef Heritage Hotel! And only $120 AUD a night!

The taxi ride is a mere fifteen minutes from the airport and we see the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building, all lit up in the distance. Our taxi drops us in Al Seef which spreads for almost two kms along the bustling Dubai Creek. At the moment all the buildings are glowing blue with palm trees wrapped in pink fairy lights as part of the Eid celebrations which will start tomorrow.

Even at night we can see how magical this place is. And even though it’s relatively newly built, the hotel feels like authentic old-world Arabia. We book in then hop into a golf cart driven by a staff member wearing the traditional white kaftan. We wind through alleyways past shops and restaurants, some still open even though it’s almost midnight.

This whole area is built to resemble “Old Dubai” with all the buildings appearing to be made of mud brick with exposed rough tree trunks and straw thatching. The hotel itself is the same and is spread across ten traditional Arabian bayt (homes) so that it doesn’t look like a hotel at all.

We ask to stop at a small café where Mark buys a couple of bottles of Coke Zero – must have a drink on the first night of our trip! At one of the bayts we find our room on the first floor amongst wind towers and courtyards. Love, love it – polished cement floors and walls with the ceiling made from logs and rattan. Very rustic but with all the modern conveniences.

Changing into ‘holiday’ clothes – rubber thongs and t-shirts – we decide to check out the area. Walking down to the Creek we watch the water traffic then wander around the alleyways – can’t wait to come back in the morning.

Now we have a few Bacardi and cokes sitting on ethnic floor cushions on a balcony near our room with views of the nearby souks’ rooftops. We couldn’t be happier!

Friday 21st April, 2023          

Dubai to Kuwait to Casablanca

We both sleep like logs till 9 am and could’ve slept longer but we want to do some sightseeing today before we fly out at 9 o’clock tonight. After showers, we walk up to the reception and ask about breakfast which is served in the hotel restaurant.

And this isn’t any ordinary hotel restaurant. We’re directed to another house with a set of outside stairs leading up to a rooftop courtyard. Here we can either sit outside under a verandah where an Arabian buffet has been set up or inside where a western buffet has been set up, both only $16 each. Mark has some of both while I have the western. We chose to sit outside on the verandah although it’s a lot warmer out here. And did I say how perfect the weather is – a beautiful sunny day with not a cloud in the sky.

The staff are all dressed in traditional robes so again we feel like we’ve stepped back in time. We have baked beans, eggs, chicken, sausages, hash browns, potatoes, beef bacon – no pork thank you very much in this strictly Muslim country – orange juice as well as watermelon juice, fresh pineapple and Mark says his coffee is good.

Now we ask reception about extending our room from the 12 o’clock check out to 6 pm – only charges $60. We need to sleep as much as we can as we both feel exhausted and know we have two more flights before we get to Morocco. What was I thinking!

After a short walk we head back to the room and sleep soundly again till 1 o’clock. Now we walk down to the pier then back to the hotel all the time looking for the Abra pier. These are small local ferries that cross the creek and it’s on top of the list for today.

Of course, by this time of day, the temperature has soared so we stop into a little air-conditioned cafe for freshly squeezed orange juice for me and mint and lemon juice for Mark. There are a lot more people around now but still not crazy. It’s good people watching though with a mix of locals wearing robes and with the women in headscarves and then, in ridiculous contrast, are what we call The Influencers – you know, young women with that plastic look of thick black eyebrows, eyelash extensions like brooms, trout pouts, make up ploughed on and dressed up to the nines. Ha, love it!

We eventually ask about where to get the Abras across to Deira so it’s a long walk back down to the pier and a long wait to buy tickets. Finally, for only two Dinah each we across the creek on a tiny wooden Abra with a very angry boat driver for some reason. It’s incredibly busy out here on the water with Abras going in all directions, some crossing and others moving up and down the Creek.

It only takes a few minutes to get to Deira where we jump out and walk over to the souqs which are packed with tourists. But then because it’s Friday, a lot of the stalls aren’t even open yet and the ones that are have very aggressive sales guys out the front especially the ones selling spices. No we don’t want any fucking spices and just want to get the hell out of here.

This area is where we stayed last time when we got to see the Gold Souk and the spice souq when it was much quieter. We wander around for half an hour but much prefer our area at Al Seef so we jump onto another Abra, not having to wait so long this time. Being out on the water is so nice with a bit of breeze to cool us down. And there’s so much to see with a jumble of old and new – huge mosques, ultra-modern high-rises and old wooden dhows pulled up along the bank being loaded with goods to be transported to other parts of the Middle East.

It’s a relief to be back in Al Seef and I can’t understand why there aren’t more people around here compared to the horrible Deira. There’s still lots of shopping to do here with countless places selling amazing carpets, rugs, shawls, pottery and ceramics. We’d love to buy up but want to save our shopping for Morocco.

Heading back along the Creek we need to find somewhere to have lunch. Earlier Mark had noticed a place right on the water. This is the wonderful Al Fanar seafood restaurant with stacks of old Arabian atmosphere. We sit outside under a thatched awning, held up by rough tree trunks and are served by friendly staff wearing shiny green galabayas. Mark has a chicken stew with flatbread while I have garlic prawns and we share two bottles of sparkling water – very hot by now. This is a brilliant place for people watching and we see more Influencers plus lots of local families.

Later we pack and shower then call reception to bring down the golf cart.  Winding through the alleyways we notice that there are lots more people now with a nice holiday atmosphere. Eid has started but more about that later.

At the airport, we buy KFC and board the plane which is virtually empty so we have three seats each for the ninety minute flight to Kuwait. We don’t waste time and both fall asleep immediately.

Arriving in Kuwait about 10 o’clock we buy ice creams in the boarding lounge, which disappointingly is packed with people which means a full flight and probably no sleep. The passengers waiting to board are an interesting crew to say the least – they’re all ancient and all in white robes with the women wearing white headscarves trimmed with red. They look like they’ve come straight off the desert.

The gate is total chaos – these people don’t seem to understand the concept of lining up and we’re shoved out of the way by some old farts while everyone else is trying to jump the queue – ha, ha. One of the old ladies is pushing her bag instead of pulling it. She hasn’t got a clue and falls head first over the top of it. It’s a circus – hilarious!

Even though the plane is full, Mark has a window seat so he can lean on the wall and then I lean up against him try and to try to get some sleep. Actually the seven hours goes fairly quick. Did I sleep? – I don’t even know. I have a nice young Kuwaiti man next to me. He can’t speak English and I can’t speak Arabic but we use sign language to communicate. The chargers on the back of the seats don’t work so I lend him our portable charger. Nice 

Saturday 22nd April, 2023          

Casablanca to Tangier

After an eight hour flight we land in Casablanca at 5 am and once more the old farts are trying to push their way past everyone down the aisle. We beat them to immigration, but then some are still sneaking under the barriers. We’ve had enough and push in front of them. Overly tired, we’re both ready to kill somebody.

At baggage it takes forever for our backpacks to come through and we start to worry that they didn’t make it onto the plane. All good in the end and Mark withdraws some cash – one Australian dollar to 7 MAD (Moroccan dirham). Since it’s so early we’re in no great hurry so Mark has a coffee while I ring Lauren. We’ve read that we can get a train from the airport to Casablanca and then onto Rabat.

And it leaves as soon as we board – 180 Moroccan dirham for the two of us to Rabat where we plan to stay tonight and then move on to Tangier tomorrow. We like the train – it’s old and comfy and we book 2nd class tickets. We need to change trains at Casa Ville for the one hour to Rabat.

This is another old, atmospheric train and leaves on time at 6:40am. This is our first real glimpse of Morocco – tall palm trees, grazing sheep, small streams, cows, haystacks, vineyards and cemeteries. All the houses are cement rendered with flat roofs where washing is strung out to dry. The sky is clear and blue but it’s a bit cool this morning but with the forecast of a hot day. We really enjoy this trip despite someone fagging out the door wafting smoke throughout the carriage. Ten years since I gave up smoking, but I’m still jealous!

Coming into Rabat we’re confused about the station names and actually miss our stop. A young woman tells us we need to get off at the next stop which we also miss, so we make a snap decision to dump Rabat and buy tickets for Tangier. At the ticket office, we have a language problem. They don’t speak English and we don’t speak French which after Arabic is Morocco’s second language. This is a result of when France occupied Morocco for over forty years from 1912 and the influence is very strong still today.

I have basic high school French which might help with reading signs and menus but not with speaking. But the lovely young woman at the counter uses her phone translator to tell us we need to get off at Kenitra Station and catch a fast train to Tangier from there. This will mean four trains from Casablanca to Tangier compared to the one train I’d predicted. Oh well, we’re on an adventure!

Kenitra Station is very big and modern. We buy water and can’t help but have a vanilla slice plus a raspberry cheesecake for breakfast. The train arrives at 9:20 am. This is one of the fast trains that we wanted to avoid as we much prefer the old atmospheric trains – and being one of fast trains it’s super quiet inside. Tangier is only a few hours away and it’s interesting to see how the landscape changes as we get closer to the coast – much greener with lots of agriculture and the land is much flatter as well.

As we reach the outskirts of Tangier, we see the familiar unappealing flat roofed buildings with no character at all. I make myself laugh when I say to Mark, “I know a great oxymoron, a Moroccan architect” – ha ha, cruel but true!

The architecture does improve, though in the centre of the city and the station or gare (because it’s French) is quite lovely with a modern bit attached to the beautiful original old station. Outside is a huge square lined with tall palm trees and the sun is pouring down.

In no time we have a petite taxi with a chatty, laughing driver. He drives us along Avenue Mohammed VI that hugs the Mediterranean coastline. With the water on one side and rows of palms on the other this is a lovely first impression of Tangier. We’re even more impressed when we see the walls of the 15th-century Portuguese fortress high up on our left. This is the old city where we’ll find the medina and our booked accommodation for tonight.

But what is a medina? It’s the original old part of a town usually dating back to the middle ages.  It’s typically walled, and contains a labyrinth of alleyways with fountains, palaces, mosques and traditional houses that are windowless to the laneway but open up inside with a central courtyard. Every Moroccan town has a medina and this is where we plan to stay throughout the whole trip.

Anyway, our driver asks where we’re staying then gives the owner a call. Apparently he’ll meet us at the top of the ramp – that will never happen! We thank him anyway and he leaves us with big smiles and saying ‘I am sorry’ three times – have no idea what that’s about.

The ramp is a steep cobblestoned path and not easy to drag up our wheeled backpacks. Finally at the top we enter the arched gateway to the medina and walk uphill to Petite Socco. This square has lots of cafes with outdoor seating, all full with tourists. There are also lots of local men playing backgammon while they drink mint tea and coffee. This is to become a familiar sight in all Moroccan towns.

Lots of alleyways lead off the square and we must look lost so an old man asks where we want to go. He says he’ll take us if we pay him – “very difficult. I show you” and proceeds to take us on a wild goose chase to show us just how ‘very difficult’ it is to find. Actually there’s no way we would have found it on our own as he eventually veers off into a tiny alleyway where Dar Essaki is printed on a small obscure sign beside a doorway.

The only issue is that no-one answers our knocking but after about ten minutes the cute little owner comes hurrying towards us out of breath. He’d actually gone to meet us, God love him.

He introduces himself as Mohammed and takes us inside his old house called a dar. Dars are smaller but similar to a riad but without the garden in the courtyard. We hope to stay in lots of riads this trip – quintessentially Moroccan.

Dar Essaki’s entry is tiny and very dark but very cosy with traditional décor and architecture. After paying, Mohammed shows us to our room on the bottom floor which is also tiny, dark and cosy with red velvet curtains and bed spreads. The bathroom is the smallest we’ve seen but has everything we need.

Now we want to explore the house. Dar Essaki has three floors built around a central area which has a glass ceiling so light pours in from above. We check out the rooftop terrace where I’m sure we’ll end up tonight for a drink.

By this stage jet lag has definitely caught up with us and we crash out till five o’clock.

Now our plan is to check out the Hotel Continental which we saw from the top of the ramp when we first got here. It looks amazing and we’re hoping we can have dinner there tonight. But no luck as the dining room doesn’t appear to be open so we head back to Petite Socco.

This is even busier than it was earlier, and there doesn’t seem to be any free tables outside where we’d like to sit – so cosmopolitan! But we’re lucky to find one right at a big open window inside Cafe Central overlooking the square. This is fantastic people watching – acrobats, a mime artist and a group of young local men in pastel coloured galabayas reciting some Islamic text. Everyone is in a happy mood and there’s lots of families around.

At Cafe Central, which by the way is a Tangier institution, we order spaghetti bolognaise and a Caesar salad but unfortunately they don’t sell alcohol. In fact we haven’t found anywhere around here that sells alcohol. Everyone is drinking mint tea for fuck sake!

But Mark checks out the Lonely Planet and it looks like we have to walk ages to find a hotel, so we make our way up to Grand Socco as the sun is beginning to set. We’re beginning to think this alcohol thing isn’t going to happen but finally along the busy Rue de la Libre we find the posh El Minzah Hotel where they actually sell beer and Coke zero!! Happiness!!

Sitting on a lovely covered terrace overlooking the Mediterranean with musicians playing in the next room, the sun is setting a cloudless sky and we’re very happy. We check out the price of the rooms thinking we might stay tomorrow night but no chance – far too expensive. On the walls are photos of famous people who’ve stayed here like John Malkovich and Tom Hiddleston so I guess only the rich and famous can afford it.

Outside the streets are packed with families and young people who just seem to be walking around aimlessly. This family atmosphere is a huge contrast to what Tangier had been in the early 20^th century. Apparently it was semi-independent and run by the Sultan of Morocco, which meant that for some reason, attracted a wild crowd of socialites, sexual deviants and all sorts of eccentrics. But it was also the inspiration of artists like William S. Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg – it must have been awesome!  

Back at Petite Socco a young man in pale blue galabaya says he’ll take us to our guest house even though Mark thinks he’d be able to find it. At Dar Essaki we take our Bacardi and Coke up to the roof to sit on floor cushions and have a couple of drinks before going to bed at 9 o’clock.

We’ve decided to move on to Chefchaouen tomorrow so we’ll have to work out how to get there in the morning. Good night!

Sunday 23rd April, 2023          

Tangier to Chefchaouen

We wake at 8.30am or 9.30am – we don’t know because our phones show different times – what? After showers and a snuggle we walk up to Hotel Continental which sits glowing white on the edge of the medina overlooking the Mediterranean.

Built as a private home in 1870 it was converted to a hotel a few years later. At that time it was another place for the rich and famous like Winston Churchill and John Malkovich but now it’s a faded remnant of its former glory, as they say. We just hope we can get breakfast here on this gorgeous sunny morning.   

Inside we check out the old reception area where ladies are mopping the floor and I’m paranoid about slipping over again. Don’t think I might escape as lucky next time. Off this area we find, fountains and interior gardens plus comfy seating areas, Moorish arches, traditional tiled floors and walls in intricate patterns and coloured glass doorways – absolutely stunning.

At the top of a curved staircase is the breakfast buffet – pretty lame but only $9 each – eggs, potatoes and grilled tomato but plenty of lovely French pastries. The breakfast room itself is also stunning, tiled elaborately from the bottom to the top, even the ceiling plus three perforated copper chandeliers. But we prefer to sit outside on the terrace which, you guessed it, overlooks the Mediterranean. It would be hard to beat this setting.

While we eat, Mark googles bus timetables as we’ve decided to move on today – not as jetlagged as we were yesterday. The first bus doesn’t leave till 12.15pm so we take our time over coffee and tea then walk back up to Petite Socco coming across the gorgeous Palais Zahia. This has a restaurant in the large inner courtyard with filigree-style carved woodwork, intricately painted decorative panelling and colourful zellige tiling. If we were staying another day in Tangier we’d definitely be back for a meal.

Back at Dar Essaki we pack then catch a petite taxi out on the main road near the waterfront. The driver says we’ll have to pay a lot because the bus station is ‘far’. Of course, it’s not, just on the edge of town. This is the station for CTM Buses, Morocco’s main bus company. It’s clean and modern which is exactly what we don’t want. We’d hoped to catch smaller local buses instead but there doesn’t seem to be that option for the trip to Chefchaouen where we’re headed today.

Mark lines up for half an hour as there’s a problem with printing out the tickets. The staff all peer at the computer and the printer but no-one has a clue. After an hour an official looking man bursts in the front door and sorts it. But there’s a problem as there are no tickets left for the 12.15pm bus and the next one isn’t till three o’clock which means we’ll waste half a bloody day waiting around and we won’t get to Chefchaouen till six o’clock.

Apparently we’re first on the waiting list if two people don’t turn up. Meanwhile we try to find out if there are other ways to get to Chefchaouen but it would mean hiring a grande taxi which would cost way too much.

By the way, there are two types of taxis in Morocco – the small ones called petite taxis while the big ones are called grande taxis. Petite taxis are only for rides within a town while grande taxis can also take you on longer journeys. You can share these with other people but we have no idea how we can make that happen where we are at the moment outside the city.

So now we just have to hope that a couple of people don’t turn up for the 12.15pm bus. While we wait, a tiny girl in a matching galabaya to her mum, chases any little boy she can find to give them a cuddle – adorable.

When the bus pulls in at 12.30pm we hang out near the top of the line to make sure we get on if someone fails to turn up. Incredibly we hear an English couple telling the driver that they accidently bought four tickets online and can’t get their money back. Mark jumps in to say that we’ll take the extra two and pay them ourselves.

We even get seats on the long back bench so Mark can stretch out his legs along the aisle. Fifteen minutes later, we set off for the three hour trip to Chefchaouen across the spectacular Rif Mountains which stretch from Tangier to the Moroccan-Algerian border.

Leaving Tangier behind the distant mountain ridges are lined for kilometres with horrible wind turbines but they soon peter out and we enter valleys blanketed in fields of wild flowers in pink, white, yellow and purple. Olive groves often appear while sheep and donkeys become a common sight. Farmers ride their donkeys on the edge of the road, most laden down with huge bundles of long grasses.

About sixty kilometres from Tangier, the roadside is dotted with pottery stalls and we know that there must be a town coming up. This is Tétouan in the pretty Martil Valley, skirted on all sides by forest covered mountains. Tétouan is a major port on the Mediterranean even though we can’t see the water from this point. In the town centre we pull into a busy bus station where some passengers get off and others replace them.

On again, we follow a river bank with the rocky Rif Mountains always to our east. The mountainsides are lightly forested at first but then become more rugged and barren but always with green valleys below. After three hours we see signs for Chefchaouen and then here it is, spread out before us on the side of a mountain.

And you know what, despite what all the travel guides, bloggers and instagrammers say, Chefchaouen is disappointingly not totally blue!

As we pull into the bus station at 3 o’clock Mark drags our backpacks out from under the bus. Two young guys approach us and say they have a taxi even though it doesn’t look like a taxi at all. The driver’s name is Hassan and his friend is Suloman who’s super friendly and super excitable. He enthusiastically tells us how much he loves hashish – that explains it – and surprise, surprise, he sells it ‘if you want?’ Actually I have read that Chefchaouen is popular with hippies and backpackers mainly because of the cheap hashish here.

We drive up and down the hilly streets through town until we reach the old city and here is what we’d hoped for – the blue city of Chefchaouen! It seems that the blue bit is only inside the Medina.

Through the gateway in the wall of the old city, Hassan reverses down the narrowest of laneways till we find our guesthouse, the pretty Dar Touijar. This is on a bend in an alleyway and covered in pink bougainvillea and painted crisp white with blue trim. Our room is on the third floor up a very narrow and winding staircase so it’s an awkward climb for Mark with our big backpacks.

The dar has the usual central atrium with three rooms on each floor. Our room, only AUD$45, is goooorgeous with terracotta floors, rough stone walls, coloured glass panelled windows and doors, and our bed set in an arched alcove. What we love best is the huge casement window that we can push outward to let the sunshine pour in and to reveal the lovely view – the little street below lined with azure homes and the valley beyond.

Since we haven’t eaten since breakfast we now head out looking for food and a drink. We wander through the maze of alleyways that don’t seem to follow any sort of pattern until we come across the Plaza Uta el-Hammam. This is Chefchaouen’s main square which is close to all the sights including the souks, the Kasbah, the Grand Mosque and, particularly important at the moment, restaurants and street stalls.

Right now most of the restaurants are filling up so we find a good people watching spot and order chicken tacos for me and mixed meat skewers with yellow rice for Mark. The restaurant is in a string of similar places all open fronted to the square. From here we can see local men holding brightly coloured parrots, families eating al fresco next to the Kasbah and lots of tourists.

We decide now to find a hotel we’ve read about that has a bar but when we ask where the bar is, we’re told ‘no bar’. Okay there are other bars on the map so we set off out of the old city and traipse up and down very steep streets where we find more ‘no bars’. We run into Suliman who is still super hyped up and would still love to sell us some hashish.

By now I’m totally pissed off! I don’t think I’m an actual alcoholic but I do fucking want a fucking drink every fucking night on a fucking holiday!!!!!! Okay so maybe an alcoholic!

I’m really over this no alcohol shit and just want to go back to our dar. Mark goes out for a walk but I just want to stay in and sulk.

Monday 24th April, 2023          

Chefchaouen to Fes

Waking to another gorgeous day, we climb to the rooftop to watch the sunrise over the mountains. Chefchaouen is spread out below us and looking extra magical in this early morning light. I’ve already talked Mark into moving on to Fes today so we order a grande taxi for 10 o’clock as the earliest bus doesn’t leave till 1pm.

This means that we head out early to explore the town. And yes, everything is painted blue – walls, stairs, doors, paths, shops, planters, cobblestones. We’ve even dressed partly in blue to feel the part. 

So why is Chefchaouen blue? We’ve heard a few different theories. One is that it keeps the houses cool, another is that it keeps the mozzies away and another is that it was painted blue by the Jews who took off to escape the Spanish Inquisition in the 15th century. In the end it doesn’t really matter except that it looks absolutely stunning and why it’s called “the Blue Pearl of Morocco”.

We wander through narrow laneways, up and down steep staircases and check out tiny alleyways pretty with potted flowering plants. Mark finds the way to Uta el-Hammam where we hope somewhere is open for breakfast. We’re in luck and find a sunny spot overlooking the square. I have banana and chocolate pancakes while Mark has eggs with olives plus orange juice and coffee. I think it’s time I had a mint tea which comes absolutely crammed with mint – I hate mint and I hate this tea but drink it anyway.

A large tree sits in the middle of the square where people are gathering to be the first to enter the Kasbah. The mountains sit directly above us so it’s a picture perfect place to hang out. But we have to keep moving so our next stop is the souk where I buy silver earrings then more silver earrings at a cupboard sized shop near our dar. Here we pack and change for the trip to Fes. I notice that the bruises on my arm and hip have become bigger and extra dark – very impressive!

Downstairs, we meet our driver, not surprisingly, called Mohammed. Google says that Mohammed is the most common name in the world – 150 million of them apparently!                        

Anyway, this Mohammed helps us drag our backpacks up the steep path to the medina gateway where his taxi is parked outside in the street. Mark sits in the front while I spread out in the back. On the outskirts of town we stop to fill up with petrol for the three hour trip to Fes.              

Mohammed has no English, but we manage to communicate somehow. And he’s a nice guy but he does drive with one hand only and makes endless phone calls. Also Moroccans drive on the right hand side of the road but Mohammed seems to have his own set of road rules.     

The scenery is cultivated fields with man-made blue lakes or dams in the distance while cactus and agave plants line the roadside. We cross rocky streams and pass sheep, goats, donkeys and people working in fields wearing straw hats to shade them from the burning sun. Through small towns men sit in groups on the ground or in cafes and again we see lots of roadside pottery stalls.           

I’m enjoying my time in the backseat, just lounging around and even lying down for half an hour. I’m feeling great today, but I do endlessly burp up my mint tea from breakfast – gross!! That won’t be happening again!                                             

By early afternoon, the landscape has become flatter and greener and in small villages we see people filling up plastic bottles at the tiled water fountains. We pass wheat fields and stop at police checkpoints then have a toilet stop at a roadside cafe. It doesn’t have any food, but we’ve already decided to wait till we get to Fes. Anyway we still have milo bars and cheese biscuits brought from home in our backpacks.               

For the last hour we pass a patchwork of cultivated fields, olive groves and the usual flat roofed box shaped houses sitting in the middle of nowhere. Now we begin a winding descent towards Fes which is surrounded by the foothills of the Atlas Mountains covered with orchards and olive groves.           

Fez is very old, founded in the 8th century. It was Morocco’s capital until 1912 when most of Morocco came under French control and Rabat was chosen to be the capital. But Fes is still considered to be the country’s spiritual and cultural centre and is the third largest city after Casablanca and Rabat.

More handy info is that Fes is separated into three parts – the New Town (the French-created, newest section of Fes, dating from the 20th century), Fes-Jdid (new Fes, home of the Mellah or Jewish quarter, dating from the 13th century) and Fes el Bali (the old walled city, dating from the 8th century). This is where we plan to stay in the sprawling labyrinthine medina which is considered to be the best preserved old city in the Arab world.  

As we enter the city, we drive through stone archways and pass tall sandstone coloured walls and the historic Royal Palace (the Dar al-Makhzen). This area is called Fes-Jdid or ‘new Fes’ even though it’s over seven hundred years old! Already Fes really looks like it’s living up to its reputation as Morocco’s loveliest city.  

But we’re headed for the medina in Fes el Bali. The main entrance is the Grande Porte Bab Boujeloud, also known as “The Blue Gate of Fes”, and this is where we’re dropped off. Within seconds we have a man approach us who says he’ll ring our guesthouse and have someone come to show us the way. His name is, what else, Mohammed. 

A few minutes later a young guy called Halid arrives and we follow him through the towering arched entrance of the Blue Gate. Halid explains that this side of the gate is covered with blue mosaic tiles, blue to represent the colour of the city of Fes, while the side facing the medina has green mosaic tiles to represent the colour of Islam. 

Once inside we enter another world of twisty high walled alleyways, cobblestone laneways, atmospheric eateries and vendors selling everything from fragrant spices to cow’s heads. This is thrilling!   

From here two main alleyways lead into the medina, the Tala’a Kbira and Tala’a Sghira. Halid leads us down the narrow Tala’a Sghira which is jam packed with local people so it takes ages to even walk the couple of hundred metres. Here we turn left at a carpet shop and we try to memorise the turns so we can navigate our way at least back to the Blue Gate. Through even tighter alleyways, very dark due to the high enclosing walls, we come to the almost hidden doorway of Dar el Yasmine.

Before heading inside, we agree to go on a walking tour of the Medina with Halid early tomorrow morning – so easy. The door of the dar is opened by another Halid who seems just as nice. As we sit in the reception area decorated in the usual Moroccan style of Islamic architecture – colourful blue silk cushions and ornate chairs and tables with complex geometric patterns, foliate designs, and Arabic calligraphy – Halid spends ages making us mint tea (which I only pretend to drink), explaining about his house and showing us a map of the medina which will be as useless as me in a kitchen! Ha.

Halid takes us up to the next floor of the dar which has the usual central atrium, this one with a huge copper pendant light and dark polished timber railings and walls. Our room is massive, with two single beds besides a double bed, air-con, wardrobes, a writing desk and a huge bathroom – for $32 AUD it’s a bargain! And of course, it’s decorated in the same wonderful Moroccan style and feel as the foyer.   

The idea now is to have a rest then go in search of alcohol. We might have better luck in a big city like Fes. So after an hour we find our way up to the Blue Gate then set off looking for the Palais Zahir which supposedly has a bar. We walk for ages till we seem to be on the outskirts of town.     

Finally Mark finds it perched on a hill on the edge of the medina, and it looks very promising. It really is beautiful in classical Fez architecture with outdoor terraces for dining and indoor fountains. We wander around the gorgeous interior then ask for directions to the Golden Bar. This is perfect with windows all around giving a birds-eye view of the medina itself. Ah, at last!     

But when the waiter comes over for our order we’re told ’sorry no alcohol’. WTF? Your website says ‘Cocktails, fine wines’. Yes but non-alcoholic’. FFS!  I know we should stay for something to eat at least but I’ve got the poops again and storm out like a brat. 

More walking up and down hills this time looking for a taxi. I’m done with this fucking country! That’s until a taxi turns up and the driver is a real sweetie. Amed can speak English so he drives us to the New Town about fifteen minutes away to look for a bar – a real bar! For an hour we drive, stop, ask directions, drive, stop, ask directions … Forget it!   

It’s now that Amed tells us why we’re having so much trouble getting alcohol. Apparently it’s because this is still Eid al-Fitr also known as the Festival of Breaking the Fast which is a three day celebration right after Ramadan when Muslims all over the world fast from dawn to sunset. But what this has got to do with no alcohol we have no idea. Anyway things might improve after this.

Defeated, Amed drives us back to the Blue Gate where there are lots of eateries just inside the gate. We choose a rooftop place with seats overlooking the excitement of all the action down below.

And we just happen to sit next to a wonderful elderly couple (yes, even older than me) from the United States but who were both born in Israel. They travel the world for months at a time and always on a shoestring. We swap travel tales for a hour but we’re no match for them.

Later we make our way back home to our dar buying Coke Zero on our way. We have a lovely time in our room sharing my Bacardi – yes mine!     

By the way, one thing about a Muslim country is that you’re never far away from a mosque. And a mosque means the Islamic call to prayer megaphoned from minarets five times every day: dawn, midday, late afternoon, after sunset, and between sunset and midnight. It might be a reminder that we’re somewhere exotic but it can be very loud!! Just saying!

 Tuesday 25th April, 2023          

Fes

We wake early, then after a snuggle and showers, we leave to meet Halid in the alleyway outside our dar. But Halid has had to take a group of tourists from Italy on a tour because he’s the only one who can speak Italian so our new guide will be Imad. We’re happy anyway as he seems to be a shy sweetheart and we set off on our Medina tour.

First up is breakfast at a hole in the wall place in a nearby alleyway which is almost empty at the moment. Most shops aren’t even open plus there’s hardly anyone around, a complete and welcome contrast to yesterday’s crowds. We sit at a small table on metal stools while Imad orders us Berber tea as well as bissara which is a fava bean soup with garlic and olive oil. I promised myself I’d be adventurous with food on this trip and I give it a good shot but then ‘I’m done’! Of course my darling demolishes it all including the rest of mine.

Imad also brings out khobz, the flat round Moroccan bread that’s eaten with every meal and mainly used to scoop up sauces or to dip into soups. He also buys a meal for a poor beggar man who’s crouching in an alcove nearby.

While we’re here Mohammed, the older guy we met with Halid yesterday, turns up. He gives me the creeps especially as he joins us on our walking tour. He talks over the top of Imad and keeps gushing all over us – ’thank you madam for asking that question’ and ‘thank you for understanding me madam’.

Along alleyway after alleyway we head deeper into the medina. Everyone has said that we’d definitely need a guide as there’s no way we could find our way around – great tip! Imad has already told us that the medina has over seventy thousand people living within its walls as well as being the largest urban car-free zone in the world – not only car-free but any sort of motorised transport. In fact the only way goods can be moved around is by hand carts or donkey. And there are lots of these poor little creatures always being led by a very old man.

Another tip is to only go with a government-licensed tour guide but we prefer to pay a local like Imad. But we absolutely don’t want to pay Mohammed and wish he’d just piss off.

By this time the locals are opening up shop but still the tourists are scarce. Early mornings are always the best way to see how the people who live here go about their daily lives. And being a cat person I love seeing how well the many cats look – must be loved. Not nice though are the many chicken shops which have hundreds of cages of squawking chickens waiting to be slaughtered.   

We walk past the University of Al-Karaouine which is supposed to be the oldest university in the world (and founded by a woman, I might add) plus the Mausoleum of Moulay Idriss who is said to be a direct descendent of the Prophet Mohammed. But as non-Muslims, we can’t go inside either.

Mohammed is still hanging around like a bad smell and we know he has an ulterior motive. And here it is – ‘sir, madam, I take you to a carpet shop’ – of course, you will. But there’s more, ‘carpets are made by women in poverty. Government give them jobs and beds’. He keeps going on and on about what a good cause it is.

Okay let’s get this over with. We follow him down a dark alleyway and through a small door into a huge room full of hanging and rolled up carpets. Of course, the women carpet weavers are nowhere to be seen. As usual we have to drink tea and suffer the long carpet selling spiel – ‘This one Arabic, this Berber, this six billion threads’. We keep interrupting to ask ‘how much’ but they just keep rabbiting on with the pitch.

 Finally we get an answer for the last one they’ve rolled out on the floor – actually AUD $10,000 – see you later! Mohammed has realised we’re not going to buy anything and magically disappears so now we can just continue the walk with our lovely Imad.

Next stop is a textile place where we watch a hand-weaving demonstration. We’ve seen this in countless places in Asia and I even learnt to do it myself in Laos many years ago. It’s still hypnotic to watch again but we don’t want to buy anything. Sorry!

Moving on we follow Imad through twists and turns and forks that make the medina a genuine maze. Along the way we come across more sad little donkeys carrying all sorts of produce on their backs. We also stop at times to wash our hands in the one of the many communal drinking fountains. Beautifully decorated, they also provide water to many homes who still don’t have running water.

Soon we end up at an argan oil workshop. We’ve seen this for sale in just about every shop so it’ll be interesting to learn something about it. The workshop is in a vast high ceilinged room with argan oil for sale in all sorts of concoctions.

A friendly sales lady shows me how to crush the roasted argan nuts in a stone grinder then gives me a lovely facial using the oil itself. She explains that the argan tree can only be found in southwest Morocco and strangely there are still remote areas where goats are still used as part of the oil making process. What happens is, the goats eat the argan nuts which are softened through digestion and make them easier to open after they’ve pooped them out.

The temperature has soared by now so we stop to buy fresh orange juice for the three of us. Orange juice stalls are found all over the medina and we’ll definitely be having more as the day goes on.

After so much walking I now have blisters on my feet as I’ve stupidly worn rubber thongs so I stop to fish some bandaids out of my pack. Imad also has a blister and I have enough for him as well. He’s very happy.

By this stage it’s mid-morning and time to visit the Chouara Tannery which is one of three tanneries here in Fes. This one is the largest and oldest, operating for over a thousand years. Imad takes us near the Saffarin Madrasa along the Oued Fes where a string of leather shops sell bags, shoes, jackets and anything else you can think of that’s made from leather. All these shops have viewing areas on the third floor level which look down over the ancient outdoor workshop. A guide takes us to the top handing us sprigs of mint to breathe through our nose to cover the stink rising up from the hundreds of pools below.

From our vantage point we watch the workers standing in large smelly vats of animal skins. The guide gives us the rundown. The skins can come from camels, cows, goats, or sheep. These are stripped of hair, degreased, salted, and soaked in order soften them and to stop decomposition. The soaking vats are filled with a mixture of cows’ wee, pigeon shit, quicklime, salt, and water – hence the stink!

Next the skins are moved to the colourful dyeing vats where the dyes here are completely natural – red made of poppies, indigo for blue, henna for orange and saffron for yellow. In other areas we can see men busy at work in the sun laying out the skins to dry on racks or rooftops. Absolutely fascinating!

From here we head back up into the congested old part of the Medina where Imad asks if we would like to meet his Mum. He tells us that his father was only fifty four when he died so since then it’s just been the two of them. We follow him through the complicated maze but, living here all his life, Imad would know every inch of the Medina. He opens a metal door that looks like millions of others then along a short dark passageway to the door of his house.

His Mum welcomes us in after giving Imad a loving bear hug. She’s so sweet and welcoming even though we can’t speak the same language. Their house is just a couple of crowded rooms with no windows or any external light at all. Still it’s homey and we can honestly feel the love here.

Afterwards we ask Imad about having a hammam so once more we follow him for an age till we come across the Royal Medina Spa. This is an upmarket place and will cost AUD $70 each but not bad really for the hammam and a massage. We book in for 2 o’clock and told that someone will come to our guesthouse to show us the way.

Before leaving Imad, he takes us to the stunning Palais des Etoiles where we make another booking, this time for dinner at 7o’clock. We’ll definitely have to dress up to fit in here. Saying a warm goodbye to Imad and paying him well, we walk up to the Blue Gate to find somewhere to eat for lunch. I love this little area, busy with locals and tourists sitting at outdoor tables watching the constant flow of people walking past.

While we wait for our order, we nibble on olives and khobz washed down with fresh orange juice then, while eating our delicious lunch of chicken skewers and yellow rice for me, plus a chicken and vegetable tagine for Mark, we take in the smells, sights and colours of this ancient world. Opposite us are stalls selling dates, spices and pastries and the smell is amazing except for the occasional whiff of donkey poop!

 Our food has taken longer than we expected so we need to race back to Dar el Yasmine where our hammam guide, Abdul, is just about to give up and leave. Thank God he didn’t because we’d never have found our way. Did I say that there are over nine thousand alleyways and laneways in the Fez Medina! And they all look practically the same!

Inside the very glamorous Royal Medina Spa we change into white towelling robes and slippers then led to different rooms – men and women must be separated. And we need to be totally naked except for paper panties for Mark and a paper g-string for me – ha, what a sight!

My room, and I suppose Mark’s is the same, has a tiled floor and walls with arched alcoves and, under a soaring ceiling, three raised marble slabs await looking uncannily like a mortuary! I’m approached by a middle aged lady wearing a long dress and a head scarf. She points for me to sit on a stool then proceeds to slosh buckets of warm water over my head as well as a bucketful straight into my face – this is brutal already! She then gestures for me to lay on the slab and, being totally naked, I do feel like a corpse ready for an autopsy.

On the slab I’m oiled and scrubbed with a rough kessa glove then told to turn over but I’m scared I’ll slide off the bloody thing. More oil now on my back and more scrubbing. The lady has arms as big as Mark so my skin comes away in blobs of black gunk. Meanwhile a young girl has come in and is getting the same treatment on the slab next to me. For some reason she can’t stop laughing.

After the scrubbing, I’m back on the stool having more buckets of water gushed over me to get rid of the oil. I must say my skin feels as soft and smooth as a baby. When I’m back in my robe, my hammam lady sweetly takes my hand and leads me out to meet Mark.

Now the two of us are alone in an even bigger room with a towering curved roof and we’re lying on strange white chairs mouldered to fit the shape of our bodies. Nearby are the massage cubicles all lined with a warm dark wood and softly lit for a calming atmosphere. Of course, we both love the massages – one of our favourite things to do wherever we travel.

Abdul walks us back to Dar el Yasmine where we pass out for a while then shower and dress up for our posh, and hopefully drunk, night. Mark had come across a place just outside the Blue Gate which he thinks might sell alcohol. This is the British Saloon, once the British Consulate, situated at the rear of the Hotel Batha and really has the strangest setup.

The hotel’s sizeable foyer is bare and shabby and the men on the desk just point out the back as they seem to know where we’re headed. We enter a long bar area with an adjacent swimming pool then through the old British Consulate section we emerge into a strange wild west themed bar – we can’t make sense of any of it but who cares because they have beer and Coke Zero! We have a couple of drinks then walk back into the medina to the Palais des Etoiles for dinner.

This classy, elegant restaurant couldn’t be more different to the sad old British Saloon. It’s everyone’s Moroccan fantasy with an elaborate pool in the centre with candlelit tables set up around it as well as in private domed recesses. Tall palms lit from below add to the magical atmosphere. While we wait for our meals, we’re entertained with loud marching music – wtf – fucking hilarious! We both salute at the end.

So for all the exquisite architecture and design, it’s still welcoming with its funny music and the many resident cats lounging around on spare seats. We start with an expensive wine each but of course I have two sips and give the rest to Mark. Dinner is a beef and vegetable tagine for Mark and a prawn and avocado dish for me. But it’s all horrible and we have the best laugh in ages.

Before we leave we make a plan to head to Meknes tomorrow so we book Riad Mehdi in the medina. Now ready for some serious drinking we backtrack to the British Saloon. We’re excited to see that it’s packed so lots of excellent people watching. A three piece band is playing loud Arabic songs and we have the best night of the trip. I must add a puzzling review I found when researching it.

This place is amazing real! Good people but no european high networth! The people make party enjoy live but don’t need kids of an experience Tour from her own frustration!

On the way back to our dar we stop for more Coke Zeros because, of course, I never know when to stop! Yippee!!

Wednesday 26th April, 2023          

Fes to  Meknes

An early rise for showers and packing before we drag our packs up to the Blue Gate where we catch a taxi to the station. Gare de Fes is the city’s main station for long-distance trains with the ticket office in a grand white building with the entrance framed in a Moorish arch. Tall palms line the gardens in the forecourt with a stunning blue sky as a backdrop.

Mark lines up for an hour to buy our tickets but there’s lots to see and there are plenty of trains passing through Meknes anyway so we don’t sweat. At 11.15 we board with second class seats which means three bench seats facing each other in a separate compartment. The short trip is made even quicker as we chat to a friendly French man sitting opposite.

Just over an hour after leaving Fes, we pull into Meknes Station and grab a taxi to take us to the Medina. The traffic is much lighter here as Meknes is known as Fez’s overlooked neighbour even though it was itself a former capital of Morocco. Meknes may not be as big or exciting as Fes but it already feels more real and charming. We’re happy we’ve come here already.

By the time we reach the archway into the medina the traffic is almost non-existent. Our driver parks then walks us to our guesthouse, Riad Mehdi. No-one answers the bell as we melt in the sweltering sun in the laneway. Finally a lady lets us inside to the very dark foyer which is also a lot cooler. We wait in the small sitting area lined from floor to ceiling with elaborate tiling in white, gold and brown. Like all riads, Riad Mehdi is tall and narrow, centred around an atrium with all the rooms facing inward.

In no time our host, another Mohammed, arrives with all smiles and apologies. He shows us the rooftop terrace and our tiny room with a lounge area on the landing outside. Our room might be tiny but it’s decked out in the usual Moroccan style for a traditional atmosphere.

Feeling hungry we set out in search of a restaurant and find an amazing place in the next laneway.  It doesn’t appear to be open but I stick my head in for a look. A young man in a cream robe says he’ll cook us something if we’d like to come in. He asks if we’d like a berber omelette – yes, please – then brings us mint tea, sparkling water and khobz.

A cute ginger cat curls up on my lap so I couldn’t be happier. Meanwhile we check out the décor, a blend of Berber and Islamic styles with zillij tiling, arches, geometric patterns and exotic textiles in vivid colours covering the seating benches and cushions. Before long the berber omelette comes out served in a terracotta tajine and we thoroughly enjoy it. Before we came I thought I wasn’t going to like Moroccan food but I’ve loved it all so far.

Because of the heat we decide to rest in the cool of our room then explore the medina when the temperature will hopefully drop a bit. We actually sleep till four o’clock when Mohammed offers to show us his favourite restaurant. We follow him though the little laneways admiring the beautiful doors and the little shops and workshops. While we absolutely loved Fes, this seems even more authentic, reflecting the local way of life.

Turning right into an even tinier laneway we arrive at Aisha Restaurant where Mohammed proudly shows us inside. He leaves us to the chef, a jolly lady who is obviously Ayisha. Apparently she has a good reputation and the food lives up to it – a chicken and vegetable tajine for me and berber chicken for Mark plus the usual bread and bowls of olives. A group of local ladies at the next table are chatting loudly and roaring laughing which makes us laugh too. 

From here we walk further into the medina to come across the interesting fruit and vegetable souk where carts are piled high with fresh strawberries and others with soft pink rose petals giving off a sweet aroma. Further on is the less interesting part selling clothes and shoes so we duck out of the nearest gate or bab.

We’ve exited the medina onto a busy road which we cross to enter a grand archway in the historic city wall. Here we’re approached by a young man in black robes driving a caleche. This is a horse-drawn carriage and apparently the best way to get around to all the sights. And it looks like fun.

Our caleche driver is Abdul who gives us a fast forward history of Meknes. It was originally founded in the 11^th century, but it was Sultan Moulay Ismail, Morocco’s longest ruler during the 17^th century, who turned it into the grand city we can still see today.

But apparently the old sultan was a bully and a tyrant who had over 30,000 people executed during his fifty five year reign. However, despite all the horrors, he did keep the Ottoman Turks at bay as well as the Spanish and British who were bent on colonisation.

We clip clop past the horse stables big enough to house twelve thousand horses and part of the forty five kilometres of walls built with slave labour. The walls seem to go on forever and, in this heat, I’m glad we’re not walking – hate walking! And the thing about the walls is that old Moulay was so paranoid that his people would do him in that he had more massive walls built to section off his palace from the could-be murderers.

Mark asks Abdul if we can visit the Meknes Royal Golf Club which is set in the heart of the imperial city inside the city walls. A guard at the entrance won’t let us in but we can see how beautiful it is set amongst gardens of fruit trees and flowers – it is ‘royal’ after all.

Trotting on, we pass the Norias Basin which looks like a giant swimming pool but it’s to look at only. A shame because it’s still very hot and steamy even though it’s already late afternoon.

Heading back into the busier part of the city, our horse must know it’s near home and goes beserk – it literally does the bolt! Holy shit, it’s scary and hilarious all at once. Abdul eventually manages to get it under control but we’re glad to say bye bye.

Back at Riad Mehdi we dress for a night on the town. Mark has done his research and has found a few bars near each other. Like most of Morocco’s ancient cities, Meknes is divided into two parts, the New and the Old (Medina), and it’s the New where we catch a taxi tonight. Even here it’s quite laidback and free from crowds.

Dropped off near the picture theatre, Mark finds our first bar called Le Pub. And they have beer!! We sit at the window to people watch while we munch on pickled potato, olives and carrots. Mark has a Casablanca beer while I have to suffer full strength coke.

After a couple of drinks we walk up to La Cristel, a dark, smoky place which is going off! We only just manage to get a seat as it’s packed with locals clapping and singing along with the weird singer. The music is blaring as he sings his heart out, loving himself to death – ha ha.

A few drinks later and, oh no, I’m up dancing too, first with a very enthusiastic drunk man then a lady, also drunk. Another man beckons us over to sit in his booth but then starts to give us the creeps wanting us to go back to his hotel with him. Goodbye!

A block further on is the next bar but you could cut the air with a knife as the entire place is full of people happily puffing away. Time for bed!

Back at our riad we ask Mohammed to arrange a car to take us on a half day tour to the surrounding countryside in the morning.

A great day!

Thursday 27th April, 2023          

Meknes to Moulay Idris & Volubulis to Marrakech

As we’d planned last night, we’re leaving at 8am for Volubulis as we want to catch an earlier train to Marrakech. Mo walks us with us to where he’s organised for a taxi and introduces us to our driver, Ilisa, who has no English at all but Mo gives him the rundown on where we want to go.

Our first stop is the train station to buy tickets for Marrakech but it’s so hard to communicate. This means that instead of tickets for the 12.20pm train we realise they’ve given us tickets for the 2.20pm train – can’t be bothered sorting it out now so we’ll just fix it later. While we wait I buy pastries and oranges for this morning’s drive as we were too early to have breakfast at the riad.

Under blue skies we leave the town behind us, passing through cultivated fields of wheat and onions as well as orchards and vineyards. And, of course, sheep, goats and donkeys are grazing in fields dotted with olive groves.

About thirty kilometres from Meknes we pull up at the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Volubulis. Near the entrance we pay a fee then I have to use the toilet – in a hurry! Two ladies are sitting just outside and get an earful of my violent toilet noises then, because there’s no running water, they have to rush in afterwards with a bucket to wash the poop away – what a job! 

A very old man with a serious limp asks if we’d like him to be our guide. Very sorry, sweet man but we want to leave before dark! So we set off on our own. The grounds are virtually deserted with surprisingly few tourists – the French mustn’t like Roman ruins or maybe it’s too early for the tour buses. At any rate it’s a bonus to walk around in this peaceful setting and have time to read the many information boards.

And this is what we learn. The Volubulis Ruins is a partly-excavated, Roman site of a former Berber city dating back to 3rd Century BC. It was still inhabited right up until the massive1755 Lisbon Earthquake, which buried most of the city under mountains of rock and dust. A lot has been excavated but apparently much of it still remains underground.

At one point one of the guards shows us the floors of houses where mosaic tiles are vibrantly still intact after which we explore the temple and the outstanding ‘Arc De Triomphe’.

Trying to escape the sun, we seek shade on the steps of a house where we come across the cutest little tortoise who seems to be lost. It can’t find its way out so we steer it in the right direction till it waddles off happily into the greenery. 

Down the hill we find a lone café where we buy ice creams, soda water (‘water gaseous’) and a coffee for Mark while we cool down in a shady courtyard.

Afterwards we meet Ilisa outside and head for Moulay Idriss just a few kilometres above Volubilis. Moulay Idriss is a picturesque hillside white-washed village and also one of Morocco’s most important pilgrimage sites since 789 when by Moulay Idriss I founded a small community here. He was responsible for introducing the religion of Shiism to the Berbers as well as founding the city of Fes. Not bad!

The town sits between two tree covered hills and with Mount Zerhoun rising up behind. As we enter the edge of town we pass lots of men either leading or riding donkeys. Those coming into town are laden with produce from the surrounding hinterland while those leaving must have already sold their goods at the market. With only locals for a change this place is definitely off the main tourist circuit.

We wander around town then find a café with tables overlooking the main square so we can watch the busyness of daily life. A group of very old men with walking sticks made from rough branches are chatting on the ground in front of a water fountain while a café opposite is full of men drinking tea and smoking sheeshas.  

The café owner can’t speak English but just points to meat on skewers. He ‘moos’ for us to let us know that it’s beef then cooks them over hot coals. Soon we’re also given plates of chopped tomatoes and onions as well as khobz so we make our own Moroccan sandwiches – love this! We ask for ‘water gas’ so he runs off somewhere to buy it for us.

Later we find the market at the bottom of rough cement stairs with the stalls crammed together and shaded by canvas awnings. Again there are no tourists here at all so we’re seeing true everyday Moroccan life. Ladies carry straw shopping baskets that they fill with the huge variety of fruit and vegetables displayed in stall after stall. The vivid colours show how very fresh it all is and most likely grown in this very fertile part of Morocco. The butchers, especially one with a whole cow’s insides draped over the counter, though are much less appealing. And like in the Fes medina, we find the shops with live chickens squashed in cages ready to get their throats cut. It seems too awful but then we eat chicken almost every meal – that’s life.

Time to leave but we wish we could stay longer. If we had time we could even spend the night but we have plans to get to Marrakech today so we need to move on.

We’re back at the railway station by 12:15, but one look at the line up and we know we’ll miss the 12.20 train so now we just join the queue and hopefully change our 2.20pm tickets to the 1.20pm train. The line-up is longer than we’ve seen anywhere else so far with people pushing in and the lady directly behind me keeps shoving me in the back and waving me on to get closer. I’ve finally had a gutful and just let her in. At the counter we’re lucky to be able to change tickets for the 1.20pm train, so in the meantime, we buy hot chocolate and water sitting in the station cafe.

The train arrives on time and we’re in first class which really isn’t much different to 2nd class. Again this train has separate carriages, and we have a variety of companions as people get on and off at the different stations on the six hour trip. Rabat then Casablanca fly past, after which the scenery becomes more desert-like as we head closer to Marrakesh. And for the first time the skies are a heavy grey as dense clouds have gradually built up

The station is impressive with a large arched glass entrance and a big open space outside. All the buildings are pink (Marrakech, the ‘Red City’) and palm trees create an exotic feel. Because it’s fairly late, we decide to stay in the modern part of town as we want to be sure to be able to find a bar somewhere. We’ve booked into Hotel Tourisone, a horrible modern shit box and at $80 the most expensive place we’ve stayed in so far. Our room is tiny and featureless but we do find a bar just around the corner.

As usual everyone is smoking so we move upstairs and we’re the only ones here. Even
though smoke still wafts up the stairs, we can open the little louvred windows overlooking the street. Mark has beer and red wine while I have Bacardi and Coke zero as usual. For dinner we share tapas – crab and avocado, sardines and tomato bruschetta – the best tapas ever!

An early night.

Friday 28th April, 2023          

Marrakech

We manage to sleep well in our horrible room but wake early to get ready to move to the Medina. Breakfast comes with the cost of the room and we find it set up in a small space off the pool area. This sounds nice but it isn’t and the food is crap as well. Enough said about this place – let’s get out of here!

Outside we find a taxi driver who says he knows where Riad Laora is but it’s the usual bullshit and he doesn’t know at all. He keeps stopping to ask people then pretends we’ve arrived. Mark has an app on his phone, and he says ‘it’s nowhere near here!’ The driver says ‘many riads’ pointing all around us but we won’t get out until he takes us to Laora – a real arsehole! Finally we pull into a small square, miles from where he’d wanted to drop us.

Then we run into another arsehole. This one must have heard us say something about Riad Laora.  ‘I show you’ but Mark says we don’t need you as we already have it on the map. This arsehole ignores him and walks with us trying to take my bag but I say I can do it myself. We only walk half a block and we’re at the door of the riad. But now he wants us to pay him 200 Moroccan dirham which is $30 AUD for showing us the way! Are you joking, you freak? Mark says ‘no way, we didn’t need you or ask you’. But the guy keeps arguing and being really aggressive. He has his hand covering the bell so we can’t get in. We end up giving him 20 MAD just to shut him up.

 Mark is so angry but finally manages to reach behind him and press the buzzer. The door is opened by Jamaal, who finally gets the weirdo to piss off. Welcome to Marrakech!!

Anyway, we’re very happy with Riad Laora. Jamaal shows us to the little reception/sitting room open to the central courtyard which even has a plunge pool. While booking in we’re served the usual welcome drink of mint tea then we’re shown to our room on the first floor looking down onto the peaceful inner courtyard. Jamaal will call us when lunch is ready.

Our room is spacious, sunfilled and really lovely again in the traditional style with the cutest rustic bathroom that has a little window opening onto the balcony. We change clothes then lie down in the air-conditioning till it’s time for lunch.

This we eat in the courtyard next to the pool with a group of friendly Spanish ladies sitting next to us. Jamaal serves us a carrot salad, a tomato and cucumber salad, a bowl of pickled zucchini and khobz. We assume this is it so we dig in only to find that we’re also having a beef and egg tajine plus a dessert of stewed banana, orange and apple all drizzled with sweet honey. This is a feast and we won’t need to eat much for the rest of the day.

About five o’clock we’re up and ready to take on Jemaa el-Fnaa. We hope that the temperature might have dropped at least a bit so we head off through the medina. This is Marrakech’s old city that sits inside almost twenty kilometres of pink walls dating back to about the twelfth century.

Like all medinas (we’re medina experts by now, ha ha), this is a maze of alleyways bursting with vendors, tourists and locals and with so much to see. But unlike the medina in Fes where any sort of motorised transport is banned, here is the relentless noise of motorbikes blowing horns as they wind dangerously through the crowds. I’m scared one will run over my feet. This is really pissing me off – thank god we got to experience the peaceful Meknes, Tangier and Fes medinas – what a contrast!

So it’s a relief by the time we reach Jemaa el-Fnaa, the legendary square said to be the epicenter of the medina. We’ve seen photos and videos of El-Fnaa many times over the years and it’s become one of the main symbols of the city. Apparently it comes alive at night but even now it’s busy with vendors, tourists and entertainers.

We stop to watch groups of musicians playing traditional instruments then other groups of belly dancers – Mark reckons one lot are males! What? Then there are the fortune tellers, henna tattooists and snake charmers who come at you with one in their hands – I run away! All great photo opportunities but just try and take one and they chase you for money.

The square, which is actually in the shape of a triangle, is lined with riads and restaurants which are all full. But we prefer to sit at one of the little food stalls in the middle and eat excellent calamari and chips for a pittance. Fruit stalls are doing a roaring trade and we buy fresh orange and pineapple juices. So the food is good but the problem is that every stall holder, and there are hundreds of them, is screaming out to the crowds spruiking their stuff – it’s giving me headache. It just feels too touristy and we’ve seen all this before but in more genuine situations. Anyway it’s an anti-climax after all the hype.

We decide to leave until a man hands us a pamphlet with pictures of cocktails and points down an alleyway. We go! In a packed upstairs bar we order beers and coke zero while sharing a long table with a retired French couple who have travelled all over the world.

When they leave three young Pommies take their place so we’re having a great time already. But the service is super slow so we tell the boys to order two of everything. Belly dancers, these ones definitely women, wander amongst the tables and I get pulled up to join in. Other dancers wearing beautiful red costumes carry trays of burning candles on their heads as they shake to the music.

On the way back to Riad Laora, we find that the laneways are much quieter so we really enjoy the walk especially as it’s so much cooler now. The tourists seem to have disappeared as well so we experience real medina life. Ladies in head scarves are buying khobz from hand carts and further on other carts are selling dates and fruit.

At the riad Mark buys a couple of beers and we end the night on the rooftop.

Not our favourite day but we’re lucky to be here so stop whinging, Virginia!   

Saturday 29th April, 2023          

Marrakech

With another warm day dawning, we want to get out early before it becomes too hot.  Breakfast is downstairs in the little central courtyard – pancakes, bananas, cakes, orange juice, jam, honey, coffee and the dreaded mint tea.

We plan to visit Jardine Marjorelle this morning but trying to book anything online is a nightmare. We ask Jamal if he can help us and even he can’t manage it. Mark and Jamal also try to book tickets for the train, but again, no luck – it seems booking anything online in Morocco is a no-go.

So we decide to just catch a taxi to Jardine Marjorelle anyway and see if we can get in. Just about to head out into the square to find a taxi, Jamal says he’ll ring one for us but we’ll have to wait half an hour – whatever! Of course half an hour ends up an hour then when the taxi driver does arrive – he’s another arsewipe, driving like a maniac, abusing other drivers, throwing his hands in the air and missing pedestrians by inches. I don’t know what the road toll is in Morocco, but it must be horrendous.

Outside the medina we pass the flea market which is set up on both sides of the road on bare dirt. All the stalls are shaded by ragged umbrellas with people selling ripped lounges, old clothes and heaps of junk but there might be some good stuff in there as well.

Our seriously deranged driver eventually throws us out at Rue Yves Saint Laurent in Bab Doukkala. Jardine Marjorelle is at the end of the street where hundreds of people have already lined up. Someone who looks official tells us that we have to book online. No way can we just pay at the gate. This takes ages because we can only use Wi-Fi and in the end, we find that no tickets are available for the next few days anyway. We don’t even care because it’s not really our thing anyway – so there!

The whole place is chaos, confusion, stinking hot and packed with French tourists. It’s now that we realise that we’ve had a gutful of Marrakesh with its millions of tourists. We can’t get into any of the sights or even an overnight desert tour because everything has to be booked ahead. That’s the downside of just winging it – so now what do we do?

We could do a two day trip to Essaouira or a two day trip to Ait Benhaddou, but both of them will be long travelling days and then we’d have to back track to Marrakesh anyway. The other option is to head up to Casablanca and stay there for a couple of days, but everyone says it’s not the best city to hang out in.

But now my darling has been researching the Lonely Planet and he’s found a place called El Jadida a couple of hours north and about one hour south of Casablanca. It’s on the train line and it’s also on the coast – sounds absolutely perfect! So that’s where we’ll head tomorrow morning.

So for now we decide to just go to the train station. So-called official taxi drivers are hanging around and want 200MAD to take us there. Are you kidding? Mark has a tantrum and walks off but then one of them chases us and says ‘okay, 50MAD’ which is still a rip off.

At the station we find the usual long line-ups, but in the end we buy first class tickets for El Jadida tomorrow so we’re happy. Hot and tired we do the unforgivable – we have lunch at McDonalds! I ring Lauren and she thinks it’s hilarious! Our poor darling is recovering from Covid with the aches and pains almost gone but still sleeping a lot.

Outside we hail down another taxi and unbelievably this driver is lovely. He says he’ll only charge us 150MAD to take us to the tannery and to Bahia Palace. A good deal and he doesn’t drive like a maniac either.

 The tannery is our first stop located in the Bab Debbagh quarter in the north-eastern area of the Medina close to the city walls. This area looks poorer and so less touristy and so more authentic than the areas closer to Jemaa El Fna and so we like it.

We follow a man through a skinny alleyway to the tannery which looks much the same as the one we visited in Fes but just as fascinating. We’re told that local families have been employed here for generations still processing and dyeing the leather by hand. We’re on ground level so we get a closer look at the vats and how the leather is worked. And, of course, we’ve been give sprigs of mint to mask the stink.

Our guide also shows us the awful pigeon house – a tall structure full of squawking, trapped pigeons whose only role in life seems to wee and poop so it can be used in the tanning. Time to leave.

Back in the taxi we drive out of the medina to take a busy road around the outskirts to a gate not far from Jemaa El Fna. This is where we find the Bahia Palace built by a sultan in the mid19^th century. We pay the small entry fee then follow the arrows through elaborate rooms and into the private gardens and courtyard which is filled with trees, orange blossoms and water features. Although the palace is unfurnished the details of the architecture makes up for it – carved stucco, cedarwood, intricate tile and woodwork, carvings, stained glass and archways.

Leaving the relative coolness of the Palace garden, we head into the adjacent Spice Souk on our way back to Riad Laora to pick up our bags. Mainly hole-in-wall shops sell vibrantly coloured spices packed in large cones or from barrels and sacks brimming with aromatic spices and herbs. Saffron, paprika, cumin, black pepper, cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, cayenne, chilli as well as cinnamon sticks are all here giving off strong aromas that can at times take our breath away.

I’ve read that Morocco’s history is actually linked with the spice trade since the country was a crossroads between the European markets and the Asian spice producers. And so it became wealthy through both taxing the spices as well as trading for things like salt, gold and linen.

Interesting, but by now it’s stinking hot and I’m feeling sick. I just want to get back to our riad. So after a fifteen minute walk, I’m less than happy to find that we’ve ended up exactly where we started at the gate to the Bahia Palace! We’ve gone round in a bloody circle!

But just then I see a group of elderly European tourists limping out of a small doorway. I have a look inside for to find a long passageway decorated in typical Moroccan style. It opens up into a huge double story restaurant with balconies all around the top, looking down into the central atrium. Here we cool down with icy cold fresh orange juice until we’re ready to take on the heat once more.

On the way back to our riad we pass more souks selling everything from traditional kaftans, djellabas, Islamic abayas, pashminas, silver jewellery, shishas to traditional musical instruments. All amazing but too hot and tired to really care at the moment.

Packing then checking out of Riad Laora, we set off once again through the medina to our new guesthouse Riad Mabrouk situated just off Jemaa El Fna. This area is busy and vibrant and we like it for a change from the quieter area we’ve just left.

Checking in, we’ve been upgraded to a suite. Still this is the most expensive place we’ve stayed in so far but it’s a bargain being reduced from AUD $165 to AUD $116. We have a beautiful, huge room with a lounge and private bathroom, a kitchen, mini bar and satellite tv – not that we’ll use most of it as we’re only here till early tomorrow morning. The website describes the style as a merge of Moroccan and Andalusian architecture and décor. Anyway it’s very exotic and moody.

We check out the rooftop terrace where we plan to hang out tonight then head back downstairs to the hairdresser. Mark has a full haircut while I just have a wash and blow dry. Later we wander around the street then rest in our lovely room till 7pm where we find a table on the terrace which has panoramic views of the city and the distant Atlas Mountains.

As the sun sets, the sky turns a soft mauve – a gorgeous calm, warm night. Our table also overlooks Jemaa El Fna which, dark by now, is all lit up and looking like all the travel adverts we’ve always seen.

Dinner is fruit-de-mer pizza washed down with our usual beers and Bacardi. More drinks in the little lounge area near our room where we make plans for tomorrow.

Sunday 30th April, 2023          

Marrakech to El Jadida

We’re up at a 6:45 to pack and catch a taxi to the station. Here we have breakfast of tea, coffee, pastries and a turkey and cheese roll. We’ve decided to go first class on the three hour trip to El Jadida – here again we have separate compartments, which we share with a young couple who have two little boys. The little ones look tired so we lend them our pillows so they can lay down and have a sleep. The Mum tells us they’re all heading to Fez to stay with family. Outside is open countryside with the odd small town. Again the land is flat and dry.

We need to change trains at Casa Oasis and realise that this is the outskirts of Casablanca and we need to catch another train back to El Jadida ninety kilometres to the south. With only a half an hour wait, the new train arrives at 10:50am. We’re in first class once again, but in a normal carriage with an aisle down the centre. On the other side of the aisle is a friendly grandma and two little boys. The grandma actually blows us kisses – so sweet!

Getting off the train, we make our way through the crowds expecting to be met by the usual aggressive taxi drivers – but no, this place is totally different. No one approaches us at all.

There just seems to be locals getting off the train so we’re the only foreign tourists. We’re actually ignored and we have to approach a couple of people who aren’t interested in taking us. Finally we find a guy who says he’ll drive us into town for a fraction of the price we’ve been charged everywhere else – this is amazing and a nice change. Finally, we know that we’re not getting ripped off.

The only downside is that this area around the train station is unattractive to say the least, but as we get closer to the main part of the city, we know we’ve done the right thing in coming here.

We like the mix of Portuguese and Moroccan architecture especially the many old colonial buildings which may have seen better days but are still reminders of a romantic past. Tall palms add to the coastal feel and we have glimpses of the Atlantic Ocean as we drive towards the fort where we’ll stay tonight.

The fort is the old city of Mazagan built by the Portuguese in the 16^th century until the Moroccans sent them packing in 1769. It was the very last territory in Morocco to be controlled by the Portuguese and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

But the fort is not a museum, it’s a living community where much of El Jadida’s population lives. We’re dropped at the main gate as, thankfully, only foot traffic is allowed within the fort walls. Inside the arched gateway we pass the cistern and the Church of the Assumption on our left with a string of souvenir shops on our right.

These have all the wonderful things to buy that we couldn’t be bothered bartering for in Marrakech – rugs, ceramics, leatherwork, scarves, jewellery and art work. Here the atmosphere is relaxed rather than stressful so we won’t miss out on taking home some wonderful Moroccan keepsakes.

All the shop owners are friendly but not at all pushy and call out, ‘Madam please look in my shop’ and ‘you come back.’ Okay, we will.

We ask one of them directions to Riad Ksar which is close by down a short alleyway and facing the ancient fort wall. This is the prettiest setting with sunshine pouring down onto the little terrace and into the foyer. The owner is lovely and shows us our room on the next floor via a winding stairwell. We have single beds which is okay for a night as the only room with a double bed is already booked.

After unpacking we head outside the fort to the beach and then into the main street of El Jadida. The town has a nice vibe, a hidden gem as I heard someone describe it, probably because not many foreign tourists make their way here.

The town is known for its seafood and many seafood restaurants are set up along the same stretch of road facing the waterfront. We settle in with a table almost on the footpath for a huge lunch of pasta, a tomato and onion salad served in lettuce leaves then a large plate each of prawns, calamari and fish – we really could have shared just one. Also the fish has too many bones so I wrap it up to feed the cats in the medina.

This is prime people watching while sardines are being cooked over hot coals on the street in front of us.

Ready for our usual afternoon siesta, we walk back to the fort and stop to talk to a shop owner who asks us of we want to come to his house for dinner tonight. Why not?

An hour later we meet him at seven o’clock back at his shop then follow him through the maze of streets just like every medina in Morocco. Up three flights of stairs we reach his house where we meet his wife, Sharman, his daughter, Amira, and an old grandmother who’s snoozing on the couch. She jumps up and moves to a chair near the opening to the wide terrace which has views of the fort walls and the ocean beyond.

Sharman serves us mint tea, water and juice then chopped olives, tomatoes and onions that we stuff into pocket bread. Meanwhile she’s fluffing around in the tiny kitchen that’s framed with a strange curved wall tiled in bright blue and white. She now brings out a tajine each of delicious chicken and vegetables.

Later we have more mint tea (not me) which Sharman pours from a great height to create bubbles. As dessert she gives us coffee, sweet Moroccan biscuits and chocolates. What a spread but it’s the atmosphere and the fact that we’re in the house of a local and his family that has made this an extra special experience.

We ask them if they know where we can find a bar and after much discussion it seems that there is one place on the beach road past all the seafood restaurants.  So this is where we set off for on this warm late afternoon.

If foreign tourists are few and far between, El Jadaida does attract many Moroccan visitors. And they’re out in force tonight, strolling backwards and forwards along the beach promenade, usually in large family groups. Little disneylike electric cars and bikes are popular with the little ones while people ride horses down on the beach. It really is a lovely atmosphere then as darkness falls the families disappear.

In the meantime we’ve been looking out for this so-called bar which we fully expect to be non-existent. But here it is, Pucinni, another smoky downstairs area and an upper floor with big windows overlooking the corniche. We hang out up here for a while then suffer the smoke downstairs where it’s much more interesting. I’m the only female here until a strange blonde appears. She’s even drunker than me, so hooray!

Walk home through this sleepy little town and the even sleepier medina. So nice! Bed early. 

Monday 1^st May, 2023          

El Jadida

We wake to another morning with a cloudless bright blue sky and feel happy that we have the whole day here to explore this little historic town. The sun is shining in through the big coloured glass arched window creating pretty shades of green, orange and blue on the upstairs balcony and in the foyer.

First up is showers then breakfast downstairs on the sunny terrace. And it’s another feast with Lipton tea, coffee, orange juice, croissants, omelettes, pancakes, bread, jam and cheese. We make plans for the day ahead then pack our day packs before setting off for a walk through the medina inside the fort walls. It’s now that I find the fish I’d wrapped up yesterday for the cats! The thing is, for the first time I can’t find any cats at all so I just leave it behind some planters.

We wander past a few stately old Portuguese buildings but find the colourfully painted local houses with ornate doors more interesting. The maze of narrow, winding streets can be confusing at times but the medina is tiny compared to those in the bigger cities so we can’t get lost.

From the end of the main street we climb up the ramp to the fort walls where we find bastions, canons and ramparts with a view out to the city on one side and the fishing boat port on the other. The medina looks amazing from here dominated by the tower of the Portuguese church and the Grand mosque.

The weather is stunning, hot and sunny but with a soft breeze coming off the ocean to keep us from sweltering. As we return to the medina, though, the heat is too much so we find a fabulous rooftop restaurant where we cool down on icy fresh orange juice.

We’ve decided to move to a different riad tonight and knock at the door of Riad Art House only a stone’s throw from Riad Ksar. The lady who lets us in appears to be the housekeeper and doesn’t speak English. She leaves us in the downstairs foyer while she goes upstairs only to keep popping her head down every few minutes obviously hoping we’ve disappeared. We think we’ll just leave our bags here and come back later when the owner will hopefully turn up.

So now we head out of the fort to check out El Jadida. The town is so small that it’s possible to walk to most places. After withdrawing money from the bank we find the Old Market, known in French as the Ancien Marché, and we’re drawn as usual to the food section selling amazing fruits and vegetables as well as carts piled high with khobz. There appears to be so much but undoubtedly all will be sold. Considering the heat, we hope all the meat in the butchers sell fast too as it’s all just hanging on hooks including a whole cow swinging from a front rafter.

Leaving the souk we go in search of a posh restaurant that I found on a traveller’s blog. It’s part of a luxury riad and the photos are stunning. Mark has the directions on his phone but we walk and walk till we almost give up. I eventually go into a shop to find someone who can speak English. A young woman knows where it is and points us the way. We must have walked straight past this place so many times but the signage is so obscure that we missed it. I ring the bell and get a peek inside of the gorgeous inner courtyard. The doorman is very apologetic but unfortunately only guests can use the restaurant and we can’t afford $600 a night.

Back near the medina we stop at a basic food cart set up in the shade of the fort wall. Over hot coals a local man is cooking chicken on skewers which are placed on top of a layer of herbs. He fills khobz with the chicken and onion for the best and cheapest food we’ve had so far.

Returning to Riad Art House we now have a little room with French doors hung with louvred shutters opening onto a tiny Juliette balcony and overlooking a sunny laneway. After settling in, we walk around to the market stalls and buy up big. Ceramics come in all shades of vivid colours but I particularly want an emerald green. The poor shop owner keeps passing me green bowls but they’re all the wrong shade. ‘Madam this one green’ – no, it’s the wrong green – ‘this green?’ – no, still the wrong shade – ‘but madam what colour is this?’ ha ha

No emerald green ceramics but we do buy a beautiful antique looking tajine so he’s happy. At the next shop we find the right green so we leave with bowls and plates then follow another young man to a carpet showroom. Here he starts with the carpet selling spiel but gives up as he can tell we’ve heard it all before. He’s a nice guy and is thrilled when we agree on two small berber carpets that can be easily rolled up to take on the plane.

On dusk we head out of the fort to walk down the main street which is packed with locals – no tourists once again. All the shops are open while clothes for sale are spread out on the sidewalk.

We have dinner in a simple restaurant open to the busy street – tuna salad, cos lettuce, half a chicken, chips, yellow rice and pasta – way too much food! Like the fish places down near the water, there’s a guy standing out the front trying to drag people inside. From here we walk to the Tit Bar (what?) which is a small dark place and we’d love to stay but they don’t have Coke so we walk across to the Les Negociants.

Like the bar last night, the customers are all men, but unusually the staff are all women. We love the seedy local atmosphere and especially happy that they have both beer and Coke. Funny though, the beers come in tiny little bottles which is lucky to amount to a mouthful for Mark. We sit around here for about an hour, all the time seeing people coming and going through a doorway near the back wall. Mark asks what’s going on and apparently there’s a traditional band so we decide to check it out.

We need to walk outside into the alleyway and through another door where a huge room is jam packed with drunk people clapping and whooping to the band. There are even women in here and the band has a female singer. She looks very exotic in a flowing Arabic style dress but she seems to be more howling than singing and every song sounds the same – ha, ha. She wanders around between the tables where people seem obliged to stick money in the top of her dress and she comes over to howl at us as well. We hand her 20 MAD but she laughs like we must be joking so we give her 100 MAD – worth it for the experience.

The walk home is a bit of a blur but I’ve still got some Bacardi left so we finish it on the rooftop of our guesthouse – a great day and off to Casablanca tomorrow.

Tuesday 2nd May, 2023          

El Jadida to Casablanca

By 9am we’re ready to leave and head out of the fort to the main road where we easily find a taxi to take us to the station. Buying tickets is easy today with only a short queue. While we wait for the train we hang out in the café to buy orange juice, a tiny strong coffee and French pastries.

The train arrives on time at 10.35am and we enjoy the scenery on the ninety minute trip to hot and sunny Casablanca. Outside the station we meet a lovely taxi driver called Nabib. Who said all Moroccan taxi drivers are arseholes??

Nabib drives us to the East West Hotel then offers to take us on a city tour. We decide to just book in, leave our bags and set off straight away.

Feeling hungry I suggest we go straight to Rick’s Café for a snack before we do the rest of the tour so Nabil drives us to the Ancienne Medina, or old city. I’d imagined Rick’s to be a simple place so I’m shocked when we pull up at a classy Moroccan mansion set against the walls of the Old Medina. The double storey façade is lovely, painted white with two tall palm trees either side of the heavy wooden door.

This fictional gin joint was made famous in the 1942 film Casablanca starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. But the thing is, there never was a Rick’s Café in Casablanca and actually the entire 1942 film was shot in Hollywood. So poor old Humphrey and Ingrid never got to set foot in Morocco at all.  It really does takes some of the shine off what some people claim to be one of the greatest movies of all time.

Anyway, there seems to be a line up and the uniformed doorman tells us we can’t come in without a reservation. We’re disappointed but nothing to be done so we jump back in the taxi. But Nabil says ‘wait’ and races off to talk to the doorman for us. After much discussion he tells us that we can get in for lunch if we come back in an hour. This is brilliant- a bucket-list thing!   

In the meantime, Nabil wants to show us Casablanca’s main attraction, the Hassan II Mosque. He drops us at the enormous forecourt with the mosque towering above the Atlantic Ocean. It’s Morocco’s largest mosque and so huge that it’s hard to get a photo. The prayer hall alone can hold 25,000 worshippers while the minaret is over two hundred metres tall. We wander around the outside and take a peek through the ginormous doors into the massive interior.

Back in the taxi, Nabil stops several more times for us to take pictures of the mosque from different angles. This is getting a bit boring but he’s obviously exceptionally proud of it so we take endless photos. 

From here he drives us along the coast where upscale restaurants have been built overlooking the beach – very cosmopolitan and a complete contrast to the historic El Jadida.

But now it’s time return to Rick’s Café and I’m excited more for the experience and to see the décor than for the food. And we’re not disappointed. Apparently, it was a former American diplomat called Kathy Kriger who in 2004 established this replica of Rick’s Café here in Casablanca.

And what a gorgeous period place she created. It really is like stepping back in time walking into this old courtyard-style mansion with curved arches, beaded lights, terracotta floor, potted palms and four fireplaces all made from carved marble and painted tiles. Oh, and of course, a grand piano.

 The only problem is we’re still in our daggy travel clothes but I do have my silk shawl that I’d bought in El Jadida so I can cover up with that. At first we sit at the bar and order a cocktail each – a margarita for me and a mojito for Mark – both served by barman looking the part in white shirts, black pants and waistcoats and red fez caps.

 When our table is ready we order medallion steals with mash and beans. As expected it’s beautifully presented and tastes just as good as it looks. Dessert is Rick’s Cheesecake – the best!

Back at the East West Hotel we have a rest then repack our bags for the long trip home starting tomorrow.

 At 6pm we head next door to an Irish Bar. This is no coincidence as we actually planned where to stay depending on where the bars are located. And this is a typical Irish Bar with dark timber floors, walls and furniture and Irish music playing. Something unexpected are the free chicken wings and chips that are brought out to all the tables but we still do order a seafood pizza to share. I have to buy Bacardi and coke as I finally polished off my duty free bottle last night and feel thankful that we didn’t have to pay these prices on the rest of the trip – probably couldn’t find Bacardi anywhere anyway.

Mark is happy with a huge glass of Heinekin. Strange that he’s drinking a German beer, and eating Italian pizza in an Irish pub in a Muslim country! Love it!

 Bed early after setting the alarm for 2.30am.

 Wednesday 3rd May, 2023          

Casablanca to Kuwait

By 3am we’re packed and waiting outside in the dark for our taxi to arrive. The trip to the airport is only half an hour at this early time of day and with virtually no traffic at all. Our plane takes off at 6am and unbelievably it’s almost empty. How lucky are we! We’re flying Kuwait airlines once again and we have three seats each so we manage to sleep soundly for four heavenly hours.

This means that we miss seeing the scenery below us – Algeria, Tunisia and the Mediterranean – but we do wake up in time to cross Saudi Arabia and the descent over the Persian Gulf into Kuwait in the north-east corner of the Arabian Peninsula. It’s very small, only about a quarter of the size of Tasmania. But we’re only here for tonight and tomorrow so we won’t have time to see much anyway. I must say that it’s thrilling to arrive in a new country and we can add it to the list of thirty five in all!

We stayed in Bahrain in 2004 and twice in Dubai in the United Arab Emirates so this will be our third Middle Eastern country. But we really don’t know too much about Kuwait except for remembering when it was invaded by Iraq under Saddam Hussein in 1990 and that it has lots of oil – apparently it has the world’s seventh largest oil reserves.

Googling, I read that Kuwait’s modern history began in the 18th century with the founding of the city of Kuwait by Arab tribes from the Arabian Peninsula then became a British protectorate in 1897 but gained independence in 1961. Should have studied up more before we came.

At baggage pick-up our big backpacks don’t appear so we go in search of someone who can find out what’s going on. Apparently because we had tickets to fly from Kuwait to Dubai tomorrow they’ve already been transferred off the plane from Casablanca straight onto the next plane, which won’t be leaving till tomorrow night! Doesn’t make sense and we’re told that if we do want our bags tonight we’ll have to hang around for a couple of hours.

Not a great outcome but can’t be helped so we just sit around in the departures hall hoping that we can eventually get them. For two hours we sit around reading and people watching.

I know that Kuwait is a very fundamentalist Muslim country, and it shows in the dress of the people compared to the more relaxed Morocco. The ladies all wear the full black abayas with their hair and neck covered in a hijab. Some even wear the black face veil called a niqab while all the men wear long crisp white robes called dishdashas or thobes plus white head scarves. The men look very stylish while the women just look drab – typical!!

Finally our bags appear and we quickly find a taxi driver who is also wearing the white robe and head scarf. We speed westward along a modern freeway to Kuwait Freezone near Shuwaikh Port. Freezone is Kuwait’s sole free trade zone opened in 1999, offering standard free zone benefits, such as no import duties and tax-free foreign corporate income. It’s an ugly industrial area and we wonder why our hotel would be here at all.

But soon we pull up at the impressive Movenpick Hotel with a marble foyer, a huge crystal chandelier and a lovely staff. Our room overlooks the pool area which is dotted with date palms and flowering plants. After dumping our bags we check out the dining room downstairs but prefer to sit outside in the garden on this warm, calm night.

This really is the strangest place. A few daggy tables and chairs are set up on the lawn centred by a tall fountain lit up with coloured green lights. But the fountain is on a lean and everything else is a bit worse for wear while trying to look upmarket. We love basic but this is try-hard gone wrong. Love it.

Another strange thing are the rows of tents that are occupied by couples smoking sheeshas. The women are in black abayas and the men, of course, in white. Are they bonking as well?

The menu isn’t a big improvement either especially considering how expensive it is. By the way 1 Kuwaiti Dinar is equal to AUD$5 so this is the most expensive country we’ve probably ever visited. This means that we share a meal of steak and chips plus a pathetic cheese platter – Mark is not impressed with six pieces of sliced packet cheese, a couple of lettuce leaves, half a sliced cucumber, a few walnuts and apricots and no crackers of any kind. Worth the cost for the laugh, though. Oh and of course we can only drink orange juice as no alcohol is allowed anywhere at all in Kuwait. Who’d live here?

After a surprisingly funny night we’re off to bed.

Thursday 4th May, 2023          

Kuwait to Dubai

After breakfast we order a driver to take us around the sights of the city before dropping us at the airport for our afternoon flight to Dubai. The Freezone and Shuwaikh Port look even less appealing in the daylight but we’re soon speeding along the coast towards Kuwait City.  

Kuwait is known for its cutting edge architecture and before long we spot the futuristic 77-story Al-Hamra Skyscraper and the space-agey Sheikh Jaber Al-Ahmed Cultural Centre This arts centre is made up of four impressive buildings, each encased in a sparkling titanium and glass skin in complex geometric forms.

These ultra-modern architectural buildings are in complete contrast to the many old mosques and the Emir’s Old Seif Palace – so different but both remarkable examples of their time.

Speaking of the emir, the current monarch is Nawaf Al-Ahmad Al-Jaber Al-Sabah who succeeded to the throne following the death of his half-brother in 2020. This is because Kuwait is a constitutional monarchy with a parliamentary system of government similar to many other monarchical countries and states in the Gulf – Bahrain, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and each of the seven emirates which make up the United Arab Emirates.

But the highlight is The Kuwait Towers, the country’s most famous landmark. The three towers overlook the Persian Gulf and were apparently built to symbolize the economic revival of Kuwait. We wander around below them then cross over to the water’s edge for views of Kuwait City across the bay.

Time now to head for the airport for our three o’clock flight to Dubai. Not lucky with spare seats this trip but then it’s only a couple of hours and we’ll be landing in no time.

At 6pm we fly into Dubai for a five hour layover before our 11pm flight to Hong Kong on Cathay Pacific.

Friday 5th May, 2023          

Hong Kong

From Dubai to Hong Kong the flight time is eight hours before we arrive at 10.30 on Friday morning. All these different flights and different time zones is becoming confusing.

Since we’re faced with a nine hour layover, we decide we may as well go into the city instead of just hanging around the airport. There’s quite a lot of confusion trying to work out the best way to get into the city centre. Finally we have tickets for the train, but apparently to go direct is quite expensive so the ticket lady has advised us to take three trains. Yes I said three and this will obviously mean three trains to get back. Do we really want to do this as we’re already exhausted?  

Anyway, we finally reach the centre of Hong Kong with views of the city skyline and Victoria Harbour. We stayed in Hong Kong way back in 2006 so we have experienced it before.

We disembark at a station in Mong Kok which we’ve been told is close to restaurants and markets. Just outside we find the Ladies Market and wander around for a while then find a little restaurant, Chinese of course.

Mark orders a noodle soup while I have pork ribs covered in some sticky orange sauce so I’m given plastic gloves to eat them with – a good idea really.

But now we just can’t be bothered doing anything else so we decide to head back to the airport. At least this has chewed up a few hours. So three trains later and we’re back at Terminal One and crash out on the floor for a couple of hours before our flight leaves at 7.10pm

A nine hour flight home.

Saturday 6th May, 2023          

Sydney

Arrive in Sydney at 6.00 in the morning then a train home to our three precious girls.