Memories of Morocco - Part XII - What happens in Essaouira...

Thursday morning breakfast is on the rooftop terrace. With time to sleep in, for a change Anne and I arrive last for breakfast. The sun is warm and there is little wind. From the rooftop we can see many surrounding rooftops but they do not obscure the ocean.

Afterwards Anne, Brian and I wander down to the beach and walk along the shore trying to avoid incoming tide. The beach is alive with people, horses, camels and surfers. After more than an hour of walking we decide to turn around in need of some hydration. The length of the beach is deceiving, extending much farther than the eye can see. We stop at the first outdoor cafe for a banana juice and French fries.

"Camel beach"

We spend the afternoon walking the streets of the medina shopping for gifts to take back home. Moroccans love their drums, of all sizes and shapes. The Moroccan square hand drum, made of goat skin and hand painted with henna on both sides, is not only a musical instrument, but a work of art. Its small size makes it suitable for transporting in a suitcase. Anne and I each buy one plus we split on one to give as a gift for Scotty.

On our way back we discover the world’s most delicious juice is made right across from our riad: freshly made orange/ lemon juice with ginger and sweetened with sugar which they extract from the sugar cane using an expeller machine.

Sugar cane expeller

For dinner Anne and I go to a restaurant that is an outdoor square with dozens of stray cats. I have the most delicious chicken couscous imaginable. Unfortunately, this means I overindulge yet again and there is no prospect of riding it off the next day.

Anne has scoped out a spa for us to visit on Friday morning. A traditional hammam includes a body scrub, facial and massage. This spa has day hours for women only; evening hours for men. Given their culture one might expect the women might be prudish, but they were quite the opposite. You remove all your clothes except for underpants and lie face down on the tile floor. The temperature is hot and humid like a sauna. They dump buckets of warm water on you and then they scrub you down on both sides and leave you lying there for an undetermined period during which I became quite restless. When the masseuses finally reappeared they poured more buckets of warm water on us and told us to sit up so could wash our hair. After that we moved to massage tables and they worked on our muscles after applying a mud mask to our faces. One more dousing of warm water and we were invited to leave.

Feeling quite refreshed and invigorated, we went back to the hotel to dry our hair before going out for lunch. We chose a French vegetarian restaurant with an outdoor patio with front row seats to do some people watching. While I ate my Panini, we watched some acrobats do some amazing tumbling, balancing and throwing each other up in the air and catching them. Meanwhile some musicians sang and played drums.

Afterwards we walked past the harbour and out onto the beach where we met two jovial young men selling horse and camel rides. This was a common theme, but these two caught our attention by asking why Anne was smiling and I was not. In response I put on my best mean face and the one fellow exclaimed that he thought I did karate. He said he could tell by my feet and the way I walked. Wow! Then they playfully challenged me to a fight. I was game for this and when they said two against one, I said okay, sure! But they could not bring themselves to hit me they said, because I was a woman. 

Anne, Ishmael, me and Nelson

So Anne suggested we have a pushups competition. These guys were tall and sturdier than the most of the men we’d seen. Ishmael was the volunteer. We got into pushup position in the sand and I started counting. As I passed 30 I wondered how many pushups this guy would be able to do. He collapsed at 44. Like the boys in N’Kob they had a good laugh over it. After chatting, we agreed to ride his horses but only for 30 minutes. Our dirhams were getting low so we couldn’t afford more. Nelson took Anne on his horse and I went with Ishmael. He asked if I had ever been on a horse. I said yes. Had I ever galloped? I said trotted yes, galloped no. He said today we will gallop. I said, Oh yeah? Leading my horse as we talked, he said I will ride with you; I am experienced. So I said okay. When he got on the horse and tried to get him to run, the horse rebelled and bucked his neck into my face. Ishmael calmed him and got off. He said his horse did not like having two riders. So much for experience!

That night we went to dinner with Scotty and Brian. We walked the streets of the medina looking for a spot. A man came and got us and guided us upstairs to his restaurant. The place was indoors (it was a chilly night) and we were the only patrons. The place was cozy, comfortable and the food was sensational! A cat curled up on my lap before moving to Scotty for some attention. I had my first taste of pastillas, which are like pies. Spiced vegetables (and meat if you desire) encased in a filo-like pastry. Mine had sliced strawberries on top. The size was reasonable so for once I didn’t feel overstuffed. And we never would have gone to this place had it not been for the assertive man in the street showing us the way.

Just the four of us and a cat!

Saturday morning we had a mini bus drive us the 170 km back to Marrakech. That afternoon the temperature was 30 degrees. We wandered the streets and then relaxed on the hotel terrace soaking in our last rays of Moroccan sun. Five of our Toronto friends had flights out that same day. The rest of us would fly out on Sunday. Included in the cost of our trip was a shuttle to the airport. All our needs were seen to. So many fantastic, unique and memorable experiences were all thanks to our organizer Scott Robinson of Offbeatroads. Without him this trip would not have been possible. Unforgettable Africa!