Memories of Morocco

Morocco, where Arabia collides with Africa, where it's perfectly acceptable to openly discuss your toilet habits with 18 virtual strangers. Satellite dishes clutter mud brick roofs, medinas with a maze of alleyways, kasbahs dot the countryside. Minarets stand proudly above the cityscape. Buying and happily eating fruit and vegetables I would normal throw out in London. Super sweet mint tea. Delicious tagines and couscous. Realising I lead a relative life of excess. Dispelling the CNN perpetuated myths about Islam. Stucco and cedar. Bottled water. Memory card full. Everywhere: cafes with Parisian style seating, even on dusty back roads. A Coke truck takes an exit ramp with a little too much speed and looses it's load. Heavily laden donkeys. Tagines and couscous. Men pushing/pulling carts of eggs. Trucks overloaded with hay bales that hang precariously over the cab and tail end. Memory card full. Men sit lazily at cafes, where are all the women? Snake charmers charm Cobras and charge for photos. Mint tea. The hypnotic call to prayer. Hay stacked and preserved for winter by a thin layer of clay. Realising that wearing the Make Poverty History band is a load of bollocks if you do nothing more. Swimming in the Atlantic. Men stare, where are all the women? Memory card full. Countryside between Tangier and Asilah that resembles the road to Lake Cargelligo. Sunset over the Atlantic. Macpac the backpack of choice. A man approaches me trying to sell peanuts from a basket and then offers multivitamins. Tagines and couscous. Palm trees. Beaches. Fluorescent flashing telephone signs. Apparently I'm worth 5000 camels. Heat, glorious heat. Baywatch dubbed in Arabic. Children and old women beg while we eat, I want to cry. A campsite that resembled a rubbish tip. Great hotels with swimming pools. New friends, sincere promises to 'keep in touch'. Memory card full. Mausoleums. Mosaics. Mosques. Dodgy squat toilets. Kids still out and about late at night. Tagines and couscous. Hospitable locals. A new found respect for Islamic culture. An amazingly varied landscape. Fresh mint leaves to mask the smell of the leather tannery. Young boys appear from nowhere to watch us pee on the roadside. Berbers. Henna tattoos. Mint tea. Riding a camel out into the glowing dunes of the Sahara, sleeping under the brilliant stars and making up our own constellations. Men randomly shout "Fish and Chips" at us. Memory card full. Over 400 photos taken.
The holiday's over... do I have a tan?? How about... no!