Oualidia and Essaouira
From Rabat we needed to head back to Casablanca and catch our connecting train down the coast from there. Their trains run perfectly on time and within 15 minutes of arriving at Casa Port and nipping out to get a bottle of water we were on a train to El Jadida. Our train to El Jadida was like what I imagine the Orient Express to be. Big leather seats and unlike our first train from Fez, this one was like the trains at home 2 seats facing each other with an aisle down the middle. Ben went off somewhere leaving his seat unoccupied. An older woman got on the train and aksed me something in Arabic, I assumed if the seat was taken and so I replied in French, Oui and she began to sit down and I told her no. There were plenty of seats around but it does seem from having watched other people, especially on the commuter trains between Rabat and Casa that people prefer to sit with others rather than on their own whereas in England people are quite desperate to get a seat on their own! Also, I wondered, on a train full of men whether it was not the done thing for an older woman to sit alone or sit near men?
It rained very heavily during our 1 hour journey to El Jadida. We listened to my i-pod and looked at the green hills we passed. We arrived at El Jadida and had to wait for a petit taxi to town as the train station is 3km away! When we got one I explained that we need to get a bus to Oualidia. After a 10 minute ride or so, thinking our cabbie was taking us to the bus station, we got out to find that he had taken us to the Grand taxi rank! Having heard that grand taxis shove people in to the hilt on longer distance journeys and drive like crazy, we were less than keen to use one and were opting for what we hoped was a safer tourist coach! We got out of the cab anyway, paid his fare and immediately whipped out the Lonely Planet. We went to a nearby cafe to ask them where the bus station was but they didnt know (or wouldnt tell us) and the map in the LP made no sense whatsoever either! I went outside and asked a policeman where the bus station was and he didnt know either! The cafe owners said we should just get a grand taxi as it was better and cheaper than the bus, but I explained that we had heard bad things about grand taxis and we didnt want to get one. They said it would be OK, so gritting our teeth we went to the taxi rank…
A fixer charged us 30dh each for a seat. We had to wait for the other seats to be taken up. The fixer was quite a joker and Ben took his photo. In the same way I guess travellers swap email addresses, he asked for our phone number and he gave us his. His name is Sabah, he is a Berber.
Eventually, maybe after 20 minutes we were ready to go. Ben and me in the back with 2 young women, 3 guys in front including teh driver. I noticed the driver had BLUE eyes. You see Asian and African people with green eyes but I was most amazed to see an Arab with blue eyes. He drove very safely, taking it slow around corners and over brows. We had a great view of the ocean on teh drive through plush green countryside but it was very flat mostly. When we got to Oualidia, after an hour or so, we tipped the driver another 10dh for being so careful. We noticed the Moroccans did not tip and he was very grateful to us.
Oualidia is a very small town, popular with surfers and famous for oysters. We were recommended it by Josephine in Fes and she also recommended our hotel, L’Initiale, and which room we should stay in to get an ocean view.
There was no map of Oualidia in the LP but it said the central point was the post office. Luckily we were stopped right by there so we went in and asked where our hotel was and they were quite happy to tell us it was down the road to the coast which was 1km long! LP also said that the town was so chilled out we’d have no problems but already I was feeling the locals staring constantly and not just in a curious manner. So, we started the walk downhill and stopped halfway for a pizza, we were both so hungry as it was now almost 3pm and we’d had breakfast at 8.30am or so. At the pizza place, men were stopping at the doorway and staring. I was getting a bit annoyed and told Ben to stare back! It also started to rain again so as soon as we finished we hurried to the end of the road and found a good cluster of hotels and right at the end was ours!
L’Initale is a restaurant as well as hotel and has good seafood. Sure enough our room was fab and actually was the only one with a sea view (ROOM 5!!!). We checked in and as we left to explore the area we were approached by an Irish man who asked if we had paid extra for the room. He seemed a bit put out that we had got there first, hee hee! ..
“>..We walked around the sandy beach and were astonished to see a trail of caravans heading in, from their number plates we saw that they were mainly French, German and Italian. We were asked by fishermen on the beach if we would like some of their catch.
“>..We walked around the sandy beach and were astonished to see a trail of caravans heading in, from their number plates we saw that they were mainly French, German and Italian. We were asked by fishermen on the beach if we would like some of their catch. I think that we were now being so guarded following our experiences with locals that we didnt attempt to talk to even any other travellers we met which looking back, was a shame but to be fair, they were mainly older couples quite happy in their camper van bubbles.
That first night we wondered if we should have given the Irish man our room. During the night there was a huge storm and our room, being the one facing the Atlantic, was battered and we woke up to find we had been flooded! Luckily we had kept our bags up on shelves and well away from the door to our balcony. We had to laugh really!! Also, the wind here was quite warm! Not like the fierce gale in Casablanca.
We spent our next day walking around the town and getting stared at. We ate lunch at a really dodgy hole in the wall place opposite Cafe des Jeunesses. We went there I suppose because we saw another couple eating there. It was dark and decked out in garden furniture and the toilet was full of spiders but boy oh boy they made the best tagine full of my favourites, potatoes, for just 25dh!!! We also tried to work out how we were going to go onwards to Essaouira and were dismayed to find that the tourist bus, CTM, only went once a day, at 4pm! We didnt want to leave Oualidia so late in the day and arrive at our next destination in the dark so we thought long and hard about getting a grand taxi early in the morning. At the same time, we rung ahead to book accomodation. The Lonely Planet recommended Riad Nakhla (author’s choice!) and given that some places we had already emailed were full, we gave them a call. They said they had a room but to call when we were on our way to confirm. The fact that I am not even bothering to post a weblink for them gives you an idea of what happened next…
We spent the rest of the day watching kite surfers around the lagoon and messing about on a quad bike and we were approached by a fisherman who seemed like he just wanted to chat. He told us about how hard life in Morocco was becoming and how men were too scared to get married because divorce was becoming such an easy way for women to make money (they get half their husband’s assets) and that children were also costing a lot. He told us a French journalist had interviewed him for Le Monde and that we should drop by his shop for a mint tea and for him to show us the article. We never did. I was beginning to let down my guard but to this day, Ben is suspicious although he admits he wishes he wasnt!
On our way to dinner that evening we came across two Aussies, Tim and Steve. They were surfers and were travelling in a red transit van they had kitted out themselves. We had a brief chat and they said they were heading down the coast the next morning. We said we were too and would be going by grand taxi. We left them cackling to themselves. Normally, in backpacker mentality we would already have asked them for a ride, but given our guardedness, I guess we had forgotten how to communicate with anyone else, hahaha!! It took us until we sat down to dinner with a menu before Ben went out to find them and ask them for a lift! He came back triumphant and said that it was no problem, we would head out with them the next day at 9am and pay for their petrol! By the way, definitely eat at l’Initiale. We had seafood lasagne and seafood paella. YUM YUM YUM! The prawns were very melt in the mouth!
The next morning, sure enough, we finished breakfast and hopped into the boys’ van. They had built a bunk bed in there and a little sofa area. They were carpenters and were on a work visa in the UK and had decided to drive through France and Spain at Christmas and head to the surfer’s paradise of Taghazout, near Agadir, for a couple of months. The 4 hour drive to Essaouira was pleasant and it was cool chatting to two other travellers. Children waved at us which was lovely! We passed through the main town of Safi and there were some amazing views of surf. The landscape changed too and cactii became very frequent. We could also feel it getting much warmer. I even stopped to make the confirmation call to Riad Nakhla…. When we got to Essaouira, the boys helped us find our riad and they went off to have lunch before continuing their journey another 3 hours south. I was sad to see them go. They didnt even really want the petrol money and asked for just 50dh each, saying it was more the company they had been after!
In Essaouira I was struck first of all by how bustling it was with tourists. There was a main square with people eating outside in the sunshine but also what struck me was the number of beggars and disabled folk asking for charity. I was distraught to see a man with no legs wheeling himself about. Of course there are people like this everywhere but you dont really see it in England, its almost hidden away. At Riad Nakhla we were told that our room was ‘somewhere else’ and a man called Hicham was coming to get us… Ben spoke back ” Are you sending us to a completely different place?” “No, no”, says the man, “same place”. OK… Hicham came to get us and we walked about 4 minutes away down the main thoroughfare to a completely different place. It even had the name outside… ‘Dar Marhaba’. Mmmn. I was thinking perhaps an annexe to Riad Nakhla but this really was a completely different business. Fortunately the dar was beautiful, peaceful and cost the same so we just went with it and took the room. BUT! Lonely Planet, DO NOT RECOMMEND RIAD NAKHLA AGAIN! It seems they have become a victim of their own success and its out of order for them to be so dishonest and to not honour a booking that was made so carefully. They should have said they were full or whatever. More on this scam later..
We had lunch and were charged for the privilege of bread and olives which we had not ordered so we left him no tip. The prawns pil-pil were delicious though! We walked around the port and watched sunset over the beach where boys played football, actually quite well! We had coffee in the medina at a very funky little-known cafe called La Triskalla and we returned for their dinner too which was amazing. La Triskalla has inspired me to think about setting up a themed tea room in England… We befriended their house kitten and named it Pancake. I am a dog person but beginning to like cats here… We also went to a highly recommended restaurant for dinner called Al Baraka, where ‘nothing is quite what it seems’. Indeed. Essaouira is full of people pushing hashish and happy cakes and its such a strange place that you have to wonder and I did wonder on the way home from the restaurant if the crazy-looking owner with bright red lipstick had added a little kif to my couscous….
Something else I noticed about Essaouira now was that ‘bonjour’ didnt mean ‘give me your money’. We were beginning to feel less guarded and feel that bonjour really meant that and was not a plea to buy something or a sneaky way of someone trying to give you directions for 10 dhiram. However, Essaouira was not the hippy haven it might have once been. I was expecting Pai in Thailand but I got something more like Blackpool tbh. It was a pretty town though and if you have time on a trip to Marrakech go there but dont beat yourself up about it.
In Essaouira we also had to try the seafood and ate lunch at one of the seafood grills by the port. For £5 each we were treated to huge fish and langoustines and squid and scampi with a drink and huge salad chucked in. I loved it! I ate it all. I was most happy, like one of the sleek cats that watched us eat and ate our bones.
Feeling less guarded we invited banter from the local children and to the cheeky ones who asked for pens and sweets, I jokingly told them that travellers were not banks. I saw a girl with a cut foot so I beckoned her over to give her some aloe vera gel to put on it and the little monkey came over and thought I was giving her money! She did eventually let me put the gel on her foot though. I dont know what irresponsible tourists have been doing before us but DONT GIVE THE KIDS ANYTHING!! It just encourages them to ask and hassle the next people who visit their country.
Meanwhile, life at Dar Marhaba had been testing. The water didnt run at certain times of day, the toilets only flushed at certain times of the day and there was no heating in our room. There were times, especially in the evening when there was nobody to ask for help. We went back to Riad Nakhla to complain and found that Hicham was in fact working there! So who was actually caring for us?? He seemed embarrassed to see us and we were kind of startled so we just made our excuses and left. I would have recommended Dar Marhaba had it appeared that whoever was running it actually gave a shit but when even your housekeeper is refusing to smile at you at breakfast because you wont visit the hammam she also works at you just want to stick two fingers up at them really!
We met people in Essaouira who had come from Marrakesh and were highly recommending desert tours. Now we had to decide whether to leave the coast and head inland or continue down to Agadir and get to the desert from there. We found that the coaches were already fully booked and trying to book a local bus at the station was not as straighforward as it has been in so many other undeveloped countries and so that left us with one option: the dreaded grand taxi…
Tags: essaouira, grands taxis, Morocco, seafood, Travel
PixieDoux
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