Essaouira
The next day, I was going to go to the beach town of Essaouira. Mohamed offered to come with, as he knew the town. Zak had other things he needed to take care of that day. We met at 7.30 and got a cab to the bus station. 65DH each way, 2 hour bus ride, with a 10 minute stop halfway to use the facilities and have a tea. At the bus station, we saw another friend… another Mohamed, also going to Essaouira. On the bus, they began talking to another French family of three. When we arrived, we all stayed together, so they must have made some arrangement to show them around, too. The mother and father didn’t speak English, but their daughter did pretty well, and helped to translate at times. I, on the other hand, have also by now learned a few key French phrases!
The town is very cool looking… old, of course, and with a fort surrounding it along the ocean. It’s also a port city, with lots of fishing. All along the dock are fisherman sorting their catches, and seeing what others caught, and there are stands just off the dock that you can buy the fresh catch, have them clean it for you, and then take it right around the corner where they’ll cook it up and give you some bread and salad. I bought a whole fish (didn’t catch the species…) for 30DH, and then it was 20DH to cook it. The French bought some as well, actually… a lot, but apparently mom and daughter aren’t so keen on it, so dad had a lot.. which he generously offered to me. I’ve never eaten so much fish for only €5 in my life! But it was fantastic. We walked the beach afterwards, which really isn’t too great a beach. It was a bit chilly from the wind off the ocean, and the sand isn’t very great. I’d heard some people were disappointed in Essaouira, which, if they were coming specifically for the beach, I could see why. It might be nicer in a month or two when it’s slightly warmer. It’s apparently quite a good spot for wind surfing, though. And judging by the wind that was kicking around, I can see why. After more wandering, tea, and watching football on the beach, we headed home at 18.45.
The next day was my last. My flight left was scheduled out at 20.00, so I met Zak around 9.30 and he showed me to some of the Palaces. Bahia was the first, which has some really amazing architectural art and mosaics and courtyards. Friday is ‘Free for Moroccans’ day, so we were going to see if I could slide in. Everybody in Morocco has been telling me I don’t look Western, and could even be Moroccan, especially after the sun I’ve gotten, so we’ll see if it flies. We walked past the entrance and Zak started speaking to me in Arabic. He said the guard looked a little confused, but we were in no problems. Next we went to Palais Badii, but the guard there wasn’t duped. Oh well, I could spare the 10DH admission. Badii was, at one time, a very elaborately decorated palace, with gold and Italian marble, and other precious metals from India. They even had a gold factory there. The palace was moved, and nearly all the decoration and mosaics had been removed to be transferred to the new palace. All that remains is brown dirt and clay ruins. It seems very biblical. Underneath is a maze of tunnels and dungeons.
Once done, we grabbed my bags from the riad and headed to Zak’s house, where he’d invited me for couscous. He lives outside the medina, but not in the new city. It was very cool to see, because it seemed more exemplary of daily Marrakechian life. No tourists anywhere, and not in the more Westernized new city, yet still with the necessities and some of the luxuries, as well. It was just Moroccans living their lives. His sister graciously cooked the couscous for us, and it was fantastic. There was so much, I felt bad I couldn’t continue eating. A couple of Zak’s other friends came by and we had, of course, tea and a smoke… while we listened to music and talked.
As it got later, we went back to Djemaa el-Fna for a final coffee at the favorite café. Only less than a week here, yet it felt so comfortable. The waiters knew me and that I was with Zak and Mohamed, and would always talk with me. As 18.30 neared, we headed to get me a cab back to the airport. The Marrakech airport is very small, so arriving two hours early really is overkill… besides, that’s not how I usually roll anyway 😛Good-bye Morocco, and hello again Madrid!
Tags: Africa, Essaouira, Morocco, Travel
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