Hotel Le Riad
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... to retreat to the guesthouse until the shower passes. It doesn't pass, it just gets the worse and it has now become quite cold. The black cloud appears to have followed us back to the guest house and will not go away. We decide to try again tomorrow.
Ahmed, serves up a delicious Moroccan meal, cooked by his wife: spicy vegetable soup with crusty bread, traditional gallia (vegetables, olives and chicken with fried egg on top)...tastes nicer than it sounds, honest...and ...
... him, and drove away. But we were intrigued. A mile or two later, we turned round and went back to the "tourist trap".
It was, as we discovered for a small fee to be guided down steep steps into tunnels where candles flickered along the walls and intermittent daylight appeared through vertical shafts above our heads (the mounds we had seen), an ancient irrigation system, now dry because of the huge reservoirs at ...
... deep enough for me to swim in places. Cinnamon red rock stretched out from the water and then straight up to canyon walls that burst through the Earth like chicken bones. An arid wind caused my tongue to stick to my throat and dried out my nostrils. Bushes full of pink flowers with loopy petals brought life to the gorge, and smelled of cherry ice cream.
People lived here too, in places. They'd used what water flew past ...
... food we've eaten so far. The owner tells us what has now become a recurring story of trying to work illegally abroad and getting deported. His village was pretty sweet so not sure other than money of the big attraction to go work in Las Palmas.
The following morning we say goodbye to the germans; exchange routes and head off further south in to dessert country.