Adventures in Morocco part 8

[ppp]

The problem with being a tourist in a Muslim country is you cannot have a lay in. 05.45 every morning you are erupted out of whatever deep slumber you’re in by the noise from the Minarets that shatters the peace. A man’s voice booms out all over town telling the believers to wake up and come to the mosque for prayers. The seventy metre high Minaret we were parked only 500 metres from was obviously the loudest. About one minute after he starts, the same noise commences from every other Minaret in the city and I guessed there were another dozen . It was a cacophony of sound that went on for fifteen minutes. This noise goes on five times a day, every day. There cannot be another religion on the planet which does not let its parishioners forget about praying as much as the Islamic religion does.

The following morning we took an open top bus tour around the city with a running commentary in English through earphones provided. It was a really interesting tour taking us through rich and poor areas alike with their beautiful parks and gardens and run down hovels. Traffic was chaotic all over the city, nobody seemed to obey pedestrian crossing etiquette and from the top of the bus  I watched people casually walking across busy roads between moving vehicles which dodged and weaved around them in their haste to get where they were going. I watched taxis exceeding the boundaries of double white lines in order to get to the front of a traffic light queue, leaving oncoming traffic with the narrowest of lanes.
Yet despite all the chaos, we never saw one accident. Afterwards, we walked through a large Souk with a Hampton Court Maze of tiny streets and passages. Charlie got her shopping list out once again; one of her neighbours back home wanted her to get a traditional pair of Moroccan sandals. Another friend asked her to bring back some Frankincense which was found at a shop selling every kind of herb and strange smelling natural product you ever wanted. I thought of the three Kings going to see the infant Jesus with gifts of Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh and for a laugh, I asked the shop keeper if he had Myrrh? “Of course” he replied and produced some which when lit with a cigarette lighter had a most delightful smell. Trevor had one more item on his shopping list, a Tommy Cooper Fez. He tried several on in order to pick the largest available which Ernie had ordered. Back out in the open air, we found a pavement café and had Chicken and salad Kebabs for lunch at 20 Dirums each, £1.80.
 
Two days in Marrakech was enough for me, I had enjoyed every minute in this very interesting city but it was like being in a gas chamber. I felt like my lungs were turning inside out and I was going to die of monoxide poisoning. I told Trevor and Charlie I was going to leave in the morning and head home. They said they would give it another few days then wanted to visit a town called Fes on the way up country. I had really enjoyed the company of Charlie and Trevor and they returned the same feelings to me.

My 350 mile journey up to Tangier went like a dream. Instead of changing what currency I had left and besides, the currency is worthless outside Morocco, I did some serious haggling at the dockside and bought two nice Camel leather travelling bags. I found haggling quite easy and profitable, ask what price it is, divide by three and offer a bit less than a third, he will come back to you with a lower price than his opening gambit, you go up to a third then start to walk away.  That’s my formula and it works most times.

I caught the evening ferry arriving in Spain at 7.30 pm and got home at 11.15 am the following day having bedded down near Costa del Sol, total round trip 1898 miles. At this moment in time I cannot commit myself as to whether I will go back to Morocco or not.
 

The end