16th Jan, Essaouira
Oualidia saw my departure this morning. A charming little village but I wanted to move on. The parking was very cramped there. Vans were right on top of each other, french mainly. This probably means the "Guide Routard" gave the place a favourable write up and of course the french will come flocking. I shouldn't mock the french and their religiously blind dedication the this particular guide as I am now the proud owner of one.
I found it in El Jadida in a back street bookshop. Dave and Di had giggled at the fact that I had entered Morocco with no more than a 1:1,000,000 Michelin map. When I saw the numerous publications they had I felt like a bit of a punter. They have guides to camp sites, bivvy sites, restaurants, places to get gas, water, toilets emptied (should have known). I didn't even know these sort of books existed.
I am now in Essaouira which is a much bigger town and I am not yet sure if I like that. The drive down was magnificent. I took the coastal road and the Atlantic Ocean was in full view out my passenger window for at least 3/4 of the journey. Safi, Souira, countless other villages and then Essaouira. The first thing you notice about being a traveller in a bigger town is that there are a lot more people hassling you to buy, swap or trade stuff. In fact no, not trade, it's just hawkers and beggers here. The little kid last night in Oualidia wanted a tee shirt for some potatoes, that was trading - although from my side not a business model that would impress those twats from "Dragon's Den". Let's face it, tee shirt, about £10 to £20, half a dozen tatties, no more than 50 cents. I would have been happy to give him a tee shirt for no tatties but I just don't have spare clothes, I packed light. If you gave an item of clothing to every person that asked, you'd be walking around Morocco stark bollock naked inside of a week.
The youngsters up north in Chefchouan just wanted to sell you hasheesh, and they didn't appear to be very discriminating about who they targeted. I had just been for a run with Pepper, been gone an hour or so, came jogging back to the campsite all sweaty and puffing to be approached by a lad with the offer of pot! "Excuse me young man, I appreciate that your education is maybe somewhat limited and that you have to make a living somehow, but is it not clear to you that I am an athlete and wouldn't possibly consider poisoning my body with any of your marijuana?" "Do you have any beer?". I am always quite flattered that they ask me though. It gives me the warm feeling that they don't group me in with the retiree element of the camping car world. Of course, the flip side of that one is, they might take me for a soap dodger.
One thing that strikes you about Morocco is that it feels like a very safe place. People are generally polite, helpful and humble. I feel safer walking round the streets here at night than I do in Chamonix or Stevenage. And I can't help thinking that Islam and a lack of alcohol in their culture has everything to do with this. It is very easy for us coming from a secular society to sniff at a nation that is uniformly committed to one religion. I have done it, in fact I do it every day here. I have a little smirk of amusement and mystery when on almost any day I'm driving, I'll see some Arab fella not too far from the roadside taking a break from his daily toil in the fields. He won't be stopping for a cheeky Malboro though. He'll be on his mat, on all fours facing Mecca. For more than half my life I thought Mecca (opposite the bus staion) was the only nightclub in Stevenage. Ignorance is bliss.
The world we live in, western Europe that is, is fast, complicated, unforgiving, unrelenting. Everything is available if you have the cash, it's a throwawy society, we keep cars, dishwashers, whatever, until it shows the first sign of a problem, then discard it and buy another one - the latest model. We are nostalgic about how life was in the past - simpler, slower, when people were more polite and had more respect for the police and authority. When people wanted to work and not sponge off the state. You only have to come to a country like Morocco to revel in your nostalgia. That's how life is here. People who can work will work, people want to study, they make a car last 3 times longer than you think it can, people greet each other warmly, kids play football on the beach on the weekend. It's a nice place.
