Nourishment obtained all we needed was a beach. The town of Agadir is one of Morocco’s premier beach resorts so naturally we weren’t staying there. We did stop long enough for us to get sand in the food we had bought and for my Advil supplier and myself to enjoy one of the worst cups of coffee we had encountered in Morocco. Once lunch had been, for want of a better word, enjoyed we returned somewhat thankfully to our minibus and pointed our collective noses at Essaouira our destination for the next couple of days.
Essaouira is on the coast and has a handsome beach but there is no danger of it becoming a beach resort anytime soon. The reason is because it is possessed of a microclimate and that microclimate involves wind. You don’t lounge on the beach in Essaouira unless you want to swallow a goodly amount of it. Still the wind makes for a somewhat cooler temperature than in most of Morocco and made the obligatory walk through the Medina pleasant.
Said walk took place the next morning and we wandered through the old town looking at old fortifications, old buildings and brand new sand. Sand is starting to pile up in the streets because the trees which used to act as a windbreak have been cut down to facilitate development. So far said development has proved less effective as a windbreak than the trees.
Our tour also took us to places where we could buy stuff, sorry, admire local handicrafts. On the shopping list today were a wood inlayer who was incredible to watch (although not so incredible that I bought anything) and a silver jewellery workshop. Here we were in danger of losing the female members of our tour group permanently and I’m pretty sure they single-handedly revitalised the local economy.
The allure of silver notwithstanding there was another siren song calling to some of us. A traditional Moroccan Hammam or scrub bath/torture session had been dangled in front of us like a carrot for much of the trip. Now with the tour coming to a close the time had come. My Advil supplier, myself and Kira a former swimmer turned teacher presented ourselves at a Berber hammam and demanded attention.
Since we arrived together the staff assumed we wanted to be served together which is how I wound up in a steam room having the top ten layers of my skin removed in the company of two semi naked women. I didn’t feel the need to register even a token protest at this turn of events.
Once the scrubbing and sluicing had been completed we were given massages and sent giddy with relaxation on our way. I can heartily recommend such a procedure should you get the opportunity.
On our last night in Essaouira we dined at a seafood restaurant (seafood is big in Essaouira due to the proximity of seafood’s natural habitat). There was music and dancing. At least there was dancing once we arrived. After dinner our guide took us to a rooftop bar which had music, dancing and pornstar martinis. Apparently a pornstar martini consists of passion fruit juice, lemon vodka and a dash of vanilla. The correct way to drink one is to fake swallowing it, spit it out off camera and pretend that you liked it.
We drank and listened to music until midnight when the younger of us went to bed (strangely this included me) while the older and more experienced guzzled pornstar martinis and caroused until the early hours.
The next day a large tour bus returned us to Marrakech where Morocco discreetly indicated that while it had loved having us it was time for us to leave. We thanked Morocco for its hospitality and particularly our two guides Brahim and Mustapha who were nothing short of amazing and made our separate ways to the exits. The rest of my trip would be alone except for a stuffed camel named Humpy.
Fond memories of a great day and night. Porn star Martinis were in fact drinkable - I tested this hypothesis several times - and am still giggling at the hamam scenario. You were such a gentleman.
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