It began with dad spending the night in his car, whilst I unsuspectingly spent it in a mansion of mosaics, me getting lost down all the dead ends in Fes – Morocco’s second largest city – the next day whilst trying to find him, and him subsequently getting arrested – for driving the wrong way down a one way street in a restricted area without a valid permit.
The Sahara is a magical land, frequented by many nomadic ‘Berber tribes’ who still wander this majestic desert, across ancient routes with their camels and produce to trade with neighbouring settlements.
Late-night negotiations had taken place the previous night, resulting in me not being bought for camels and ‘a large part of Nigeria’. We instead agreed to a dessert trip out to a place called Merzouga. Another day-long drive eventually brought us to the stunning Kasbah Erg Chebbi ASBAH ERG CHEBBI, our home for tonight, where we were introduced to Jimi Hendrix and Bob Marley…our trusty steeds for the next few days!
This recipe is based on the recipes I learnt to make from locals while on my travels around Morocco. Continue reading “Moroccan Chicken Tagine”
After wandering the souks solo I teamed up with another 3 hitchers and we made our way out to the Cascades d’Ouzoud.
What looked on the map to be a main road was in fact just a rather wide dirt track that took a vaguely straight line in the rough direction of the Cascades.
Arriving at midnight at Orange Stall 14 – exactly 12 hours late – the train ride had taken us to the point of exhaustion. The souk was still bustling with activity and interest at our arrival so we quickly scouted out Hotel Foucauld.
Compared to the dungeon of Tangier it was bearable – despite the holes in the wall, 1960s TV set and very tired-looking net curtains, we were relieved, however, to find a working shower with HOT water! Perfect for a cheap stay in Marrakech if you’re on a backpacker’s shoestring budget.
We arrived late in Tangier, and after eventually finding a hotel, that looked more like a derelict house, we were advised to stay in our rooms, to ‘be locking of our doors’ and ‘not have worry of the danger people outside’. Because if anyone did break in, the hotel manager would beat them with a large wooden pole he kept behind his desk. I could see we were in for an interesting night.
DEALING WITH THE FRENCH:
Our two day stint in France involved arguments with police (contrary to advice we’d been given, turns out it’s illegal to hitch hike in France!)
Transvestite encounters, despair at derelict roundabouts, your average French and Lithuanian hitch hikers lending their advice and lots of kerbside dancing in cardboard boxes.
IF adventure is what you are after, I recommend you take this scatter-gun approach to maintain the element of surprise to your journey.
