30 - 31 August, 2014
From Marrakech to ocean-side
Essaouira it’s a pretty straight 2.5 hour run (plus two stops) on a
good road through more seemingly inhospitable land that, I was
assured, is alive with wheat in due season.
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| Does wheat really grow here? |
The first stop was to see
goats that climbed trees (although sadly ‘assisted’ to stay in
place for tourist photos – 10 Dirham thank you).
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| Goats - Young and Old |
The second stop was at a
women’s cooperative that processes nuts from argan trees (native to
Morocco) into products as diverse as a type of peanut butter (rather
tasty, as it happens), hand cream (would have bought some if not so
pricey) and shampoo (did buy some, seems OK). Those women, unlike the
goat owners, really did earn their money. As all across Morocco, this
was manual labour, nothing mechanised.
The woman on the left
insisted I take her photo. She was pleased with the result.
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| Liquefying and kneading argan nuts |
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| What a beautiful smile |
I really liked Essaouira. It
was big enough to be interesting and small enough to be able to walk
all over the place without a guide and not get lost!
This was another town where
the Portuguese built themselves a fortress, although the Romans had
been there considerably earlier and the Phoenicians before that. My
riad was within a stone’s throw of the ramparts. I could see them
and the sea if I craned my neck out the window. I went to sleep and
woke up to the sound of sloshing waves. Wonderful!
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| Fit for a queen - or me - at Essaouira |
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| From my window, Essaouira |
The port area was a hive of
activity with that day’s catch for sale and some of it being cooked
and sold at local sit-and-eat stalls. The fish smell right through
the area was so strong that it put me off tasting the offerings but
that wasn’t the case for a lot of people.
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Fishing boats large and small -
as jam-packed as any car park |
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| Part of the daily catch |
There were good views from
the ramparts, both across the town and along the shoreline and out to
sea.
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| Looking across to the town from the port ramparts |
Then walking in and out of
many alleyways was like a stroll through Aladdin’s cave, there was
so much on offer. I resisted the big ticket items and settled for a
souvenir or two. There were the beautiful …
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| Art gallery |
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| Pottery |
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| Clothing, leather goods, and on it goes |
and the, um, quirky ….
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| Take a seat |
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| Assistance (ahem!) for men – Berber style |
Not to mention demonstrations of diverse skills ….
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| Carving a door frame |
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| Street theatre |
In the evening I found a
local restaurant and, because I was in a fishing port, ordered the
fish targine. As always happens, I was asked if it was good and, as
always, I obligingly said of course it was, even though it was very
dry. Mine host beamed and said it was conger, as in eel. I wish I
hadn’t known that!
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| Add caption |
Next morning, before hitting
the road again, there was time for a bit more exploring, this time
outside the medina walls. On the beach there were a couple of games
of soccer in progress. It looked like junior and senior games, some
of the seniors being of the grey-haired, a little balding and portly
variety.
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| Everything stops for a fake injury |
Then I found the Catholic
church so in I went, Mass a quarter through. It was in French,
rapidly spoken so I only caught the odd word. There was a bit of
laughter from the congregation of about 25 during the homily so it
must have been OK.
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| The church of Sainte-Anne, Essaouira |
Before Mass, apart from the
soccer there weren’t too many people about. After Mass there were
heaps on the beach, and traffic building to the congestion and full car
parks that we’d encountered on our arrival the day before.
But we were off to a
very different place – the High Atlas Mountains.
