Marrakesh to Skhirat, which is really close to Rabat

I know I've spoken much about going to Morocco over the years but what it really became was - I really want to go to Marrakesh and in particular, Jaama El-Fna.
Now it's - Been there. Done that. Next!

We left the Kenzi Farah a little late due to a dispute over the bill.
Seems one of their employees had under-quoted the bill for our stay, but the hotel felt it was not their responsibility.  Strange attitude but, as callous as it sounds, it was not our problem.
We got away about an hour late.

Getting through the Marrakesh early morning traffic was not as problematic as I thought it might be.
It would not have mattered if it was, as I felt quite invigorated  after not being in the saddle for a whole day.

Our plan was to make Oualidia, a coastal town, for lunch.
By lunch I mean Spanish time for lunch, which is somewhere between 2, which would be an early lunch, and 4, which we would be a little late.

To back track a little, last night I caught up with Jesus just after dinner and he excitedly told me "Mañana marisco!"
I may have some latino in me (I hope Italians, and their descendants, are considered latinos.) but what I heard made 50% sense. "Tomorrow ???"
So, Jesus reaches for his phone and comes up with photo of a huge seafood platter.
"Muy bueno!" this antipodean latino responded.
Later I catch up with the rest of the crew and I mention the fact that we're having seafood for lunch at this little resort town on the way to Rabat.
Quick as a flash Stela replies, in Italian, "Tomorrow afternoon we all die!" and cracks up laughing.
I would say she little faith in seafood and even less when it is in some Moroccan backwater.

We made it in good time and most of us had a good and enjoyable fill of very fresh seafood.
No-one wanted any of the sea urchin so I got the lot, and it was a lot.

 This, a rather large plate of shrimp, oysters, sea urchin, scampi, gigantic crab ... 

..... became this.

Courtesy of our host - orange mille fuile  ..........

.... served up by someone looking remarkably like our Princess Stela!

Tiz on the beach after lunch

Tiz and I on the way out of the town, which is in the background.

By now we were running quite late and the roads ahead were going to include some long straight roads.

Allegedly, some high speeds may have been reached.

We did take a short break at a fuel stop. Our vision had been a little blurred by wind buffeting etc.

One of the group was a little disoriented and wandered into the wash area of the prayer room and mistook the wash basin for something else.

He was genuinely and extremely apologetic, having not meant any disrespect, but some people in the area found it, shall we say humorous.

   Blue toilets - Red prayer room

Having them close together is not a good idea

After a short, much shorter than it would have taken at 120kph, while we arrived in Skhirat.

It's a seaside resort about 30kms before Rabat with the L'Amphitrite Palace Resort, in which King Mohamed VI and his missus hang out. 

We parked the bug splattered and dusty bikes amongst a few Ferraris and Porsches etc. and proceeded to our rooms to unpack.

The bed was large and comfortable, 

and so high that Tiz got vertigo every time she looked over the edge 

 A cute little balcony to allow you to have chat to your neighbours

The bathroom suite was so big I thought about calling a taxi to get to the other end.

Below are some pics of resort from the pool bar

It's getting close to midnight on Saturday so I'm going to clock off.

I will cover the Skhirat, which is really close to Rabat, to the Malaga Finish Line leg tomorrow, hopefully.

In the meantime, take care and try not to throw sand in each others eyes.

Malaga to Marakesh has been updated! Go check it out.

Yes, it's Saturday 31st and I've finally found the time to update the Malaga to Marrakesh entry.

The next entry will cover Marrakesh to Rabat.

I'll try to do this after we have some dinner.

Doin' the ton, in Morocco # Updated!!!

*Please note that this entire entry is out of sync with the rest of the blog and may be entirely fictitious*
...... as may be the update ......

OK, for the readers of this blog that do not ride motorcycles and are not Australian the title may seem a bit strange, and therefore I will explain it.
Doin' the ton  means to drive/ride a vehicle, preferably horizontally but can in some circumstances be accepted if done vertically, at 100mph (or if metricized, 160kph).

Recent reports say that a group of up to as many as eight non-Japanese motorcycles may have travelled along a motorway in Morocco, heading north to Rabat at speeds above "the ton" , and in some cases close to "a ton 'n' a half" or more.
It is said that in one case one rider and the pillion may have been doing, according to the speedometer, ~210kph and were passed by an elderly motorcyclist at even higher speeds, who was performing acrobatics!

Later, at a fuel stop, the motorcyclist that was passed by the elderly rider described him, affectionately and respectfully, as an "A###hole!"

The aforementioned elderly motorcycle statesman is believed to have justified his speed and riding style by saying that he has not done this in twenty years and where he comes from it would land him in jail!

It is said that the motorcyclists compared the fines and jail terms in their respective countries, as they may not have all been from Morocco, for doing such speeds, if indeed they were done at all.

There have been no reports of any damage having resulted to any of the motorcycles (as they were all built properly), riders (who all knew their limits and capabilities), pillions (who had complete faith in their riders) or spectators (who were too busy wandering from lane to lane without looking or indicating or were simply reading and replying to emails whilst driving at ridiculously low speeds of around 120kph), if indeed any of this story is true.

At this point, none of the above can be verified as the riders cannot be contacted for a comment.

***

News reports, from reliable sources, have shared that on the day following the above there may have been a motorcycle, made by a family owned company, of over one liter in capacity, of a bluish color carrying a handsome middle European man and a non-European woman of demure stature, doing speeds of 215.

The unit of speed is unknown but it is not thought to be kilometers, as this would make the alleged speed illegal and the policeman sitting behind the bush with the radar gun the size of an 80 liter rubbish bin would have surely stopped the motorcycle for doing nearly 100 kph over the posted speed limit.

Once again, the report may have no basis in fact and, although entertaining, may be the complete fabrication of someone that smells of kangaroo and shoot holes in the ceiling of his hotel room with a shotgun.

If this is the case we would like to apologise to anyone that may have been riding a motorcycle, made by a family owned company, of over one liter in capacity, of a bluish color and were a handsome middle European man and a non-European woman of demure stature, and not doing speeds of 215, but probably more. 

    

Malaga to Marrakesh

It's now Tuesday afternoon and we are finally in Marrakech.

The last few days have been insanely busy, tiring, frightening, exhilarating, enjoyable, eye opening etc. etc.

The connection to the interwebz, here at our four star hotel - The Kenzi Farah, is sketchy at best so I will include reports for the last three and a half days on this one page.

Malaga to Chefchaouen - Saturday 24th
Saturday morning we met up at the factory and after a quick intro to each other we hoped on our bikes and headed off to Port Tarifa.
It only took 70 minutes and the Spanish traffic was easy to deal with at that time of day.
We hopped on the ferry and an hour later we were in Tangier.

Tiz and I on the ferry from Tarifa to Tangier

I can't give you exact reasons but what normally takes 10 - 30 minutes took over 2 hours on this day.
We seemed to repeat the same processes over and over again for a myriad of officious customs people.
In these sort of incidents you need to keep calm and just do what they ask no matter how many times they ask it and/or how illogical the request seems.

Me being a jovial person waiting for Moroccan customs to do what they do, in their own sweet time.

After inexplicably being released the group of eight motorcycles traveled south east through Tetouan, and along the coast for a while with a quick lunch stop, to reach Chefchaouen by around 6pm.

It had been a long day, although not a lot of km's traveled, but the welcome at Dar Echchaouen was great.
The hotel doesn't have a website that I know of so you will have to settle on a TripAdvisor link and some photos.

Here are some random pics from Chefchaouen.

The most awesome trooper/pillion on our arrival at the Chefchaouen hotel

The most important piece of furniture in the room, which was quite spacious, in Chefchaouen

After settling in to our rooms we changed into something more comfy and headed down to the main square.

It's hard to tell from this pic but under the big tree there is a big circular bench where all the young girls sit, with the their chaperones close by, doing what young girls and boys do.

It's an absolute beehive of activity.

It took us about 15 minutes easy strolling to get there and later that night we tried to get there again, to use the ATM. We got lost and ended up doing a circuit that took an hour to complete. Also the place is steep. Seriously steep!

Chefchaouen to Fes - Sunday 25th

Here are some pics from our bedroom .balcony in the early morning

   One of the views from the balcony of our room in Dar Chaouen

 After breakfast we wandered down to the bikes and as prepared to ride a few more pic opportunities came our way.

Stela, inhabitant of Brazil and Switzerland, partner of Roger, speaker of Portuguese, French and Italian.

A real fun person and great to be with. 

This is her doing her morning pre-ride dance, 'cos that's what Brazilian chicks do.

..... and some old Aussie hack in the background

On the way to Fes we stopped at a little motel for some mint tea.

 It was here that I dropped the bike, at a complete standstill in the carpark, as did the most experienced rider amongst us.

Paul Emille dropped his bike watching us but I dropped because I just wasn't strong enough to hold it up.

It dawned on me at that moment that to do a ride like this you need to be fit (I've not been fit for a very very long time), strong (any leg strength I may have had went away when I had my right knee operated and my left leg with the accident) and experienced (by that I mean going two up with luggage on a heavy high bike like the GS1200 Adventure), which I am not.

The Adventure will not be part of the stable we complete this ride. 

The drop did no damage to the bike nor Tiz or I but it shook me a bit. 

The ride to Fez took about two hours with the traffic, once in the city, being the worst I've ever experienced.
You need to bare in mind that I have lived in Jakarta, amongst other traffic hell holes but it's all relative.
The Ecuadorians and Brazilians were grateful for the light traffic!!
We ended up at a two month old hotel called Hotel Sahrai.
It's luxurious but it has teething problems, but more on those after some pics

 Oversized bed

 Bathroom with sunken marble bath

From the doorway to the room

The pool at the Sahrai, overlooking Fes

After unpacking in our very comfortable room we went to the medina in Fes.

Some pics...

Tiz at the entrance of the medina

Still at the entrance of the medina, 

but this time I'm taking a picture of a group that kept taking pictures of this chick.

From her stance, she must be a famous person, but this is still her better side.

We walked around for hours and saw precious little  of the 9000 streets and alleys. The place is astounding.

We went to an Islamic college that had been built in the 9th century and has been recently restored. 

Beautiful handywork and I don't think they have the same problem getting tradies to turn up on time like we do.

We also visited the Touratech production facility for their metal components ....

.....that was a very specific petrol head joke. Touratech make accessories and components for motorcycles.

They specialise in high tech stuff for BMW's.

I thought that was funny ......

Major form of transport in the medina is 

One of the funniest things to happen on this tour so far happened over dinner.

We head into the restaurant and sit at two tables.

The predominantly Spanish speakers table and our table.

A young waiter comes around holding two bottles of water asking "Sparkling or plain?"

It didn't matter what we asked, and we as individuals asked for both types, we got plain. 

That gave us all a chuckle.

Then we get asked "Beef or chicken?". No menu, no explanation, just "Beef or chicken?"

Some of us ordered the beef.

When the little tajine arrived and the first bite was taken, the looks on our faces, prior to bursting out laughing, was priceless.

We got mutton. And by mutton I mean not lamb or goat but old old sheep. 

Mutton. Tasty mutton, but very fat mutton.  

We laughed, ate it and laughed a whole lot more.

That night we slept like kings and queens, with bellies full of mutton and rosé from Meknes.

 Fes to La Kasbah D'Ouzoud - Monday 26th

The ride out of Fes was less busy than the ride in, Allah be praised.

It is noteworthy at this point that I thank some people and in doing that will describe who they are and a little about them. By the way I thank them in no particular order as they are all wonderful helpful people that have made this trip enjoyable, safe and memorable. We will remember them fondly and hopethat our paths cross again.

***

Julio - Tour Guide

One hell of a decent guy. A diplomat. A multi-lingual font of knowledge. A husband and father. An extemely good motorcyclist, in every sense of the word. A very considerate and supportive person. A very good "picker upperer" of fallen motorcycles. 

Paul Emille - fellow rider

Paul is the eldest of the group, at 64, and without doubt the best rider. He's on a F800 GS and what he does with that bike defies description. He's an ex-racer, musician, retired businessman. He speaks German, Italian and French. He has helped me a lot in improving my riding technique and he's a very funny guy to be with.
Above all else, even though he is only a few years my senior, he did things that a father does for a near helpless child. My eternal gratitude goes to this man.

Jose Daniel and Alexandra - A couple from Ecuador, by way of Spain and Venezuela. Both fluent in Spanish and English and both with a wicked sense of humour. Lovely people that, along with all the gear that adventurers accumulate, could also ride like the wind.
Daniel like was a model for every conceivable piece of motorcycle riding gear and Alexandra looked after the kitty with the diligence of a finance minister, and all of that came with a smile. 

Wilson and Mercedes - fellow adventurer couple from Ecuador on a GS1300

Wilson is quite fluent in English as well as his mother tongue, Spanish. His wife Mercedes is a tremendously friendly and happy companion that understands more English than she speaks, but has a smile that can communicate more than words ever could.   

They are great tour companions and when they are ahead of you on a ride they, through hand and foot signals, will alert you of every note worthy bump or danger or site. It's been a pleasure to have them involved.

Ingo - fellow rider

A quiet, pensive, talented (rider) German man. I don't think he speaks any of the riders' common languages but never fails to smile or thank when appropriate. 

He has taken the rear position, to look after Tiz and I, most of the time. His considerate nature has made him noteworthy in the list of people that deserve out thanks.     

Roger and Stela - prince and princess amongst we mere mortals.

I could go on and on about these two but I will make it simple.
They have looked after us to the point that I don't think I could ever thank them enough. 

They do it because they enjoy helping where they can, and for us it has been often.  

Between them they speak enough languages to never have any problem communicating anywhere.

Roger and I are similar souls, and Stela and Tiz are much the same.

Roger is a riders rider and all round nice guy and fun to be with.

Stela is a pearl. Funny, assertive, worldly, friendly and just a great person to be around.

Jesus - Support Vehicle Driver, baggage carrier, mechanic and supplier of fine Spanish wine over dinner.

What can one say about Jesus other than - Thanks a million, Jesus, for everything!

The back-end crew that didn't come on the ride but in small and large ways made it the safe and memorable adventure that it was should also be thanked.
Johannes, Dom, Eva, Volker and anyone else from Hispania Tours that I don't know about but helped -
Thank you, mucho!

There was another couple on the ride from Ecuador, but the kindest and only way to describe them, and this view was shared, is "the children that don't play well with others". 

***

On the way to the Kasbah D'Ouzoud we made a coffee, or in most cases - sweet mint tea, stop in a town called Ifrane. It's THE weirdest Moroccan town of all time.

Ifrane is a town and ski resort in the Middle Atlas region at 1665 metres in elevation.

It was here, again in car-park and stationary, that I dropped the bike. This time it was because I didn't put the side stand forward enough and thankfully Tiz wasn't on it. Again, no pain but it sealed the fate of the bike.

Sweet mint tea  was drunk, bladders were emptied and off we went.

We had taken longer than anticipated to get this far so Julio decided to stop at for lunch.

A couple of us arrived a little early and parked our bikes next to one of many restaurants in the main road.

One of the guys in the eatery told us to move our bikes from where we parked in a manner that wasn't conducive to us staying and eating there.

We moved them down the road twenty meters and when they realised that weren't going to eat there, there was a lot of backtracking. 

Bad luck Achmed, you're not the only kebab shop in this little town and the next one is a lot friendlier to thirteen hungry riders, with a bucket load of dirham to spend.

 Dude hacking mutton for kebab making mincer

 Tiz's plate of kebab and onion. Shame she can't eat onion.

 Is that all I get?!

 Stela's tajine. The healthiest meal of the day.

We then headed up the mountain and that's when the trouble with my being able to handle the weight of the bike started. The hairpin bends were severe and the incline was very steep. Everyone else managed it fine but I stalled it on a bend and couldn't get myself going again. Just keeping the bike upright was becoming a serious struggle.

Out of nowhere I hear "Start it and give it some gas!"

Paul (not Roger as previously reported. Roger was the one yelling ".... give it some gas!", which in hindsight is something he would have said at any stage!) was behind me, holding the bike with Tiz and upright as well as pushing it uphill and giving instructions and encouragement all at the same time.

May Allah, God, Buddha, Jehovah and every other deity bless this man and his offspring for time eternal.

When I say he "saved our arses" I mean exactly that. 

He downplayed what he did but it does not diminish the facts. 

We made it safely to the next stop which was a long long way up and took some pics.

 Stela and Tiz halfway up to the kasbah

  A panorama view that nearly killed me to get it.

It was at this point that the guys suggested Tiz jump on the back of someone else's bike.

Julio was the best choice as he was on a 1200, with the widest (therefore the most comfortable!) pillion seat and was the most experienced in these mountains.

Quite a while later we arrived safely at the kasbah and were greeted with a lovely pool and some cool beers.

 ...... this blog hasn't quite reached Marrakesh, as we have, but the battery is nearly flat and I'm exhausted so I'll post what I've done so far, mistakes and all. 

By the by, it's now Wednesday afternoon 28th May.

I probably won't have a chance to get back to it until Rabat, at best, and more likely Malaga in a few days.

In the meantime I hope you enjoy what I've put up and that you are all well.

RESUMPTION OF BLOG - SATURDAY 31st  16:30 

OK, so we left off at the arrival at Kasbah D'Ouzoud.
Everyone was dead tired. The twisty mountainous riding had taxed not only the weaker, less experienced rider, much to my relief, but the whole crew.

Before I move on, I just had a thought/observation I wanted to share.
On the way to the foothills of the Atlas Mountains we rode some very long distances. In some of the locations we could almost see the horizon all around us.
It was dust and rocks, in varying sizes, everywhere.
We would ride, ride, ride and all you would see is dust and rocks and the horizon.
Then, in the distance, at first, and almost next to you after many kilometers there would be an old Moroccan in his djellaba sitting on a rock.
Just him on a rock, surrounded by other sparse and smaller rocks.
What was he doing there? Protecting his rock?
I doubt I will ever find out.

Another observation, whilst I'm making them.

You will see camels on postcards from Morocco. I even overheard an Aussie lady, in Chefchaouen, saying she was going to the desert to ride a camel
We did nearly 2000kms through Morocco and the only camels we saw were two, an old one and a young one (don't ask, but if you need to know, that's the way of the things here!), in the back of a ute in one the towns we rode through.
The irony was not lost.

 A late update, but thanks to one of the other riders I have at least one pic

We had some cold drinks by the pool and then headed up to our rooms.

The kasbah behind the pool

Alexandra being her funny self and the rest of us drinking much needed fluids, by the pool

 View of the bedroom from the entrance area

The bed at the kasbah. 

It was comfortable, but then again we could have have slept on a rock given how sore we were after the days ride.  

Entrance area from the bedroom

Looking down into the internal courtyard from our 1st floor balcony

Crappy iphone photo of the crew sitting down for dinner in the outside tent/dining area. 

Even crappier meal.

It had all the right ingredients - chicken (albeit overcooked and stringy), possibly rabbit (could have been "rooftop rabbit", and I have no problem with that), various vegetables (Lord knows I should eat more) and cous cous (which was so overcooked that a few people thought it was overcooked rice).

I do not doubt that everyone could have done better with those ingredients and not managed to extract 99% of the flavour out them, as had been done with what was served to us.

FAIL!

La Kasbah D'Ouzoud to Marrakesh - Monday 27th                                                                                

Here are some pics I took before heading out in the morning, from the kasbah to Marrakesh 

View over the valley from the rear of the kasbah 

Turn 180 degrees from the last pic and this is what you see

If you walk a little closer to the kasbah, from the last pic ..... 

.... a little closer and to the right ......

Standing at the back entrance of the kasbah and looking right to the dining area

Looking out across the pool from the back entrance.

Our cruel tour guide, Julio, and his evil assistant, Jesus, delivering the daily list of punishing occurrences for the day ahead.

Cruel, you say?! Yes, cruel. This man made (he actually asked and encouraged, very politely, but that doesn't suit the story) us get and be packed and ready every morning by 08:30.

Evil, you ask? Yes, evil. This man would skulk around of a night maintaining all the bikes, after having driven all day, having then delivered a van full of language, to the correct rooms, always and without fail. 

Yes, they should be known as Mr. Cruel and Mrs. Evil!

Tiz, at the top of the kasbah

..and me from on top of the kasbah

View from the same spot

Obligatory pics taken. 

Morning briefing delivered. 

Plans made.

We decided that Tiz would to travel to Marrakesh as "shotgun" (aka "passenger" to some) with Jesus. This would give her a break and also, along with stripping the boxes and bags off my bike, give me a much lighter more manageable bike. 

Roger and Paul gave me a few handy and very helpful hints on how to ride down the mountain in a lot better and more enjoyable way that the ride up and off we went.

Julio and Ingo were going for some extra riding through the twisties in the mountains, on the way to Marrakesh, and the rest of us would head directly there.

I need to mention at this point, that although I am in awe and very respectful of the riding ability of of both Julio and Ingo, I was now sure that both are a touch masochistic or a little mentally unbalanced or a bit of both. 

   

We rode down the mountain, with me riding like a man possessed (OK, would you believe, a bit faster than yesterday?), and stopped to fuel up once we hit the plains but quickly set off again.

The plan had been to take the road through to Demnate and then onto Marrakesh.

Paul took off first with me quickly (yes, quickly, because I can do this on long flat straight roads, especially solo) after him and Roger and Stela looking after my tail.

Wen"t went past a sign that said Demnate, turn left, 10kms.

Far be it for me to question anyone that has a sense of direction, let alone "The Professor", as Paul is known to some.

Ride, ride, ride but no-one seemed to be catching up which is most often the case. 

So we eventually stopped at a largish town for a "menthe the" - very sweet tea with a bunch of mint leaves in it. Nice. 

Proof of us having done this -

 We waited for quite a while but no-one came so off we went again!
We were on the major road from El-Kelaa-des-Sraghna and it was quite busy.
You learn to judge gaps in the traffic quite well riding around Morocco as you need to overtake a lot.
Thankfully the bike has a mountain of torque and make overtaking quite easy.
All you need to do is factor in is the following-
 -Drivers do not check their rear vision mirrors before overtaking.
 -Drivers may be having conversation, and looking at, their passengers or phones, whilst overtaking.
 -Drivers do not keep their vehicles in one lane. One and half and sometimes two lanes are required, for   no apparent reason.
 -Drivers do not use their indicators and if they do it may not mean what you think it means.
 -Drivers in Morocco can kill you without ever intending to.

Now, something I've been noticed and have been meaning to mention.
Mercedes cars. There are millions of the units here. I don't think I'm exaggerating.
They must outnumber every other make, combined, by at least 20:1.
I asked some of the other guys if they knew why this would be so.
One answer was (say this in your best Arnie accent) "You can't kill them!"
To add to this answer you need to factor in that they get discarded in Europe way before they are "dead" and can be bought for considerably little dirham.
They load them to the hilt, drive them everywhere and they just last.
I deem them to be the cockroaches of the automotive world!
OK, I got that off my chest.

When we got into Marrakesh we seemed to be heading in the right direction and doing quite well.
Why I would think that I have no idea, but it felt ... right!
Paul leading the way and Roger/Stela acting as a crash barrier/buffer zone, to my left, as we entered each roundabout made my life easy.
Paul eventually stopped, and I followed. Roger and Stela pulled up as well and they discussed where we might be and how to get to the hotel.
Paul was confident he could lead us there.
Roger and Stela wanted to pay a taxi to lead us there.
I shut the hell up as I didn't have a clue, plus I was enjoying watching a couple of "alpha's" solving the situation.
Stela jumped in a cab and took off with me on her tail, so to speak, and Roger close behind, and eventually Paul as well.
As it turned out we weren't that far away but you need to understand that this place is ever changing and the traffic is chaotic. I think the cab idea, which was Julio's suggestion at he beginning of the day was a good idea.
Paul didn't.

We arrived the Kenzi Farah at ~15:30 tired but safe and sound.
Tiz had already checked in so up we went to a room that must have had chain smokers in it from the day it was finished. I remember the nicotine stained "Smokers Area" in Seoul Airport, from my bad old smoking days, smelling like a rose blossom compare to this room.
Plus, it had twin single beds! Tiz was not having twin singles!!

Down we went and asked  for a fresh room with a double bed.
"No problem, sir. Here is the key to Room XXXX and we will bring you language immediately."

I won't explain how long "immediately" was but let's just say it nearly took less time to ride here from the kasbah. Then there was the non-operational aircon, which was really needed, and no towels.
Conclusion - Don't stay at the Kenzi Farah in Morocco. They mean well but they were chronically understaffed and much of what was wrong was basic stuff that should not have happened.

That night we went to Le Foudouk, which was described by Lonely Planet as "like a prop from a Tim Burton movie".
We went there with a couple of Swiss/Brazilian bon vivants we picked up in our travels.

The whole experience was amazing. From the haggling for the taxi fare there, they say 100 dirham, you laugh and say 20 dirham, they say 50 dirham, you say 20 dirham etc. etc.through to the drive down dark alley ways and being met by a man in a djellaba (a kaftan with a hood) and fez carrying a lantern.\ who leads you down even narrower alley ways to a small hole in a wall that opens up to the "prop from a Tim Burton movie"
"How did the guy (in the djellaba) know we were coming?" asked one of the bon vivants.
"It's a Moroccan 'thing'!" responded one of the other passengers.

The whole experience was wonderful, and relatively inexpensive. I thoroughly recommend it.

 Marrakesh - Tuesday 27th 
Today was a day to roam around in Marrakesh free from any riding, for those who wished.
Some of the group wanted to ride back into the Atlas Mountains for the day.
Quite a few of us chose not to.

We saw Wilson and Mercedes at breakfast and they mentioned that they had visited the medina and the Jaam El-Fna night market the night before.
They suggested it might be less busy earlier in the day and we would like to come along.
It was only 20 minutes walk and along the way we saw some interesting place and some very inviting hotels.

During the day the square is near empty with only a few fruit juice vendors and the odd snake charmer.
But, radiating from the the square in every direction there are alley ways that lead to souks.
All of us were interested in different things so we decided to split up and meet back at an agreed place in the square in 90 minutes.

Tiz really wanted, and needed, a new wallet so off we went to find and bargain for a wallet.
To make a long story short the advice of "Offer them 10% of the first asking price." saw us leave without  one of two wallets Tiz really wanted. I was disappointed but we would come back in the evening and try again.
This would also allow us to see the night market in full swing.

During the morning we stopped for a café espice, white coffee with cinnamon, with Paul.
A very pleasant break.

At the end of the agreed 90 minutes we walked towards the meeting place.
It was going to be easy to meet up as Wilson and Mercedes were wearing THE most bright/fluorescent  Ecuador soccer team T-shirts of all time.
We looked. We circled the square. We looked. We criss-crossed the square. We looked some more.
We gave up and walked home.

What had happened was that in this yet another soccer/football mad country they had spotted two people - Wilson and Mercedes - wearing the t-shirts of a player that had been bought, from Ecuador, by an Arabic country. To add to the mystique, this inconsiderate purchase/soccer player went and had a heart-attack and died  very early in his stay in the Middle East.
Nonetheless he was revered and t-shirts from his home country were extremely desirable and all the vendors in the souk were offering to swap or buy the t-shirts Wilson and Mercedes we wearing.
It become so bothersome they bought two t-shirts to cover up the overly desirable Ecuadorian ones they were wearing.
It was a good laugh for when we finally caught up later that afternoon.

Later that night, Tiz and I returned to the souks as they were starting to set up the square. The longer we walked the more we realised that the stalls we closing and we end up leaving without the wallet.
As we heade toward the square I remembered one the last shope we had entered and that Tiz had seen a wallet she liked.
It was a shop that my finely honed bargaining skills had failed miserably. The old guy recognised us from earlier in the day and led us directly the wallet.
This is the wallet that had gone from 400 dirham to 100 dirham but I wanted to pay 80.

To give this whole story some context -
1 dirham = 13 cents or $1 = 7.66 dirham (Moroccan Dirham / Australian Dollars)

I coyly asked "How much?"
He responded "120 dirham"
I gave him two 100 dirham notes.
He turned around to his "cashier" and muttered something, which was without doubt something comically and deservingly disparaging, to the smallish band of Moroccan men in the shop, to which they all laughed.

We took the wallet and the changed, thanked him and walked out.

Lesson for the day - It's hard to out do an Berber/Arab when it comes to doing business.
Upside - Got a bunch of exercise and a good wallet for low expenditure.
Downside - None.

We walked through the square only to be disappointed by the commercialism and lack of any Moroccan authenticity. A victim of it's own success!

We caught a cab back to hotel for 20 dirham and had a giggle at the days experiences over dinner.

The nights sleep was a little more pleasant as the aircon had mysteriously started to work.