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Goodbye Essaouira, Hello Rif
... ride back to Marrakech. The three hours seemed to go by very quick, but allowed enough time to finish my book that I had been reading since the beginning of the trip. Unfortunately, on this bus ride I did not meet anyone that would take care of all of my social activities for the next few days, so my stay in Chefchaouen was still up for improvising.
Arriving in Marrakech, we had almost three hours to spare before the train was to depart ...
''High'' in the Mountains
... selling everything from soap to warm Berber people clothing. To get lost here is the goal, and to stumble into one of the many cafes to sip on a warm mint tea and smoke some of the '’finest’’ never disappoints. It is a backpacker’s paradise.
So we haven’t told you much about the food here in Morocco, well it’s great, real hearty stuff. The main dish is called a tajine, and that refers to ...
The prettiest little town in the Rif mountains
... town.
I walked thro' an area signed as an old prison; with chains around the wall and an opportunity to climb to the top of the tower. The previous two floors provided a good history and details of its culture, but the views from the top were quite lovely, especially with the sun streaming into the kasbah and garden. In fact, it was a terrible time to be looking around, as I didn't want to leave at all. After all, who'd ever want to leave heaven?
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Hiking in the Riff Mountains
... the guide claimed we had reached the summit when really we were just at the saddle between two peaks. Neither of us wanted to cause a scene so we let this detail pass and simply appreciated the grand views of the Riff Mountains and beyond. Despite a heat haze we could still see the ocean some forty odd kilometres away. The descent was relatively uneventful and much quicker then on the way up. Once back in Chefchaouen we went to the tour agency ...
TMI and Misc. Thinking
... or unhappy but remembering myself in those above moments is amusing...)
But God help me, when I am peeing out my ass and considering taking myself to the nearest hospital (oh Egypt, such fond memories), I do so prefer to SIT upon a toilet seat rather than SQUAT over a teeny tiny hole in the ground. For those of you who werent with me for the Southeast Asian trip where I first encountered the squatter toilet, you will not realize just how terrifying these things are. If you have ...


