30th We arrived in Essouiera by night fall, where we had to meet Andrew and Anna.
So David and I pop into a little cafe where they have wi-fi (order huge chicken salad
sandwich for two dollars) and check our emails on Davids smart little phone. Andrew
and Anna are at a hostel without a name, to get there you turn right left right from the
madina's centre
..So the directions weren't so bad (we tend to find our way somehow) and we confidently
tell the spanish couple beside us that if they need a hostel they can follow us.
So all together, following our dodgy directions, we begin to loose our way in and through
the Madina. Many people come close to you as you stumble through the rocky streets
'L'aubergement?' 'Hostel?' 'Appartment - avec une terrace!'
No, no, no; We have a reservation, We lie to them (though many times its these street boys
who we take a hostel from...or an empty room above their neighbours house)
We decide to ask one of the advertising men if he knows where a particular street is, and
then suddenly the spanish man we're with recognizes the guy we've asked from a previous
holiday, and he pulls out his phone and revealing a photo of them together. We take another
photo. Turns out the local guy knows the nameless hostel we're going to, and it turned out
to be the right one!
Problem was that the hostel workers had left Anna and Andrew "in charge" of the
hotel for the night and there was no key for us to open the door. We make a pot of tea,
call over a neighbour and everythings sorted out.
1st December We rise and shine early to explore Essouiera. A sea side city, of
awesome blues and whites. Just like I imagine a Greek island would look. I feel like
a princess walking through it. Like all the madinas, the streets weave madly into eachother,
and houses seem to be built ignorant of the next one coming along - as the houses all
over lap, making triangular dead-ends and irregular shaped roads. The windows and doors,
likewise, are put in oddly - without balance or allignment. Connecting the pokey windows,
across the streets, string is strung and clothes glow high above you in the sunlight.
Beyond the madina, by the bay, the old Portugese fortress walls extend into the fishing
port, and hundreds of blue and white fishing boats are piled atop one another, tangled
in ropes and nets, scrawling about like tentacles. Theres a strong stench of fish (or Polly
after she'd dissapeared for a day) And along the streets scrawny cats crawl through the
piles of trash. The street seems hovers as you walk along it, as fish scales fly about
with each step, and you cant help but gawk at all the tables set up, displaying rows of
teeth inside the mouths of giant fish, eels, octopus and lets not forget the bucket loads
of sardines. 30 cents for a kilo.
We stopped for a coffee (its really nice coffee at the coffee shops) and after
David's omlette fell on the ground they delivered us a new one without our asking. They
also didn't charge us. Thats just an example of how kind the people have been, and while
there are some noisy and desperate types, the people generally seem so kind and generous.
Like picking up on France's coffee culture (making such delicious cafe au lait or
cafe noirs) Morocco also picked up on the crepe culture, and in Essouera (spelling??)
we found the hidden gem (the restaurant for locals - not tourists - which is hard because
locals dont usually eat out) where the crepes are cheap and yummy !! One thing the people
do eat out though is soup - a creamy moroccan bean soup - which is cheap, too, at the local
OK im not sure what went wrong with the photos but ill try again now
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