The hotel had kindly made us breakfast the night before and left it with us for the next morning. We stuffed our pockets full of whatever we could manage and headed off to wait for our taxi driver for the day. And wait some more. Eventually he turned up and off we headed. Remember the uncomfortable journey I mentioned getting to the hotel? I don't know if I mentioned the old rickety taxi it took place in, but that is the standard taxi in Marrakech. Imagine my old blue fiesta, add a boot and you've got roughly the comfort level of our method of travel for the day. This was another highlight of my trip but it was partly because of the hilarity of how uncomfortable the journey was.
I’m pretty sure our driver did not speak A WORD of English. His French was so-so (ok, amazing compared to mine, but I would guess it was not his first language). Without our resident bi-lingual Lucy, we were going to have to manage this one on our own. Thankfully Jayne and I made a pretty good pair. I started to feel a little bit better about my lack of language skill because it turns out that whilst I can't really converse in French, I can pick up key words and the gist of a conversation reasonably well. Jayne was the main speaker for the day but there were times when she just didn't understand what was being said back, and I was able to translate. Well, I say that like I did it fluently. It was guess work, and I was only proved right after things had happened which I had suggested may be what he was saying. The first of which was when the taxi driver drove us into Marrakech and proceeded to exit the vehicle! Jayne and I looked at each other, confused. I'm not good on geography but I know this is not Essaouira. He mumbled some stuff in French and between us we ascertained that he wanted us to stay with the vehicle while he disappeared. Not really knowing what else to do, we obliged. Eventually he returned with a piece of paper in his hand, trying to explain where he'd been. He started talking about trains and we thought we were going to have to get a train from here to the seaside. How were we going to explain to this guy that this is not what we'd paid for!? But then we drove past the train station. I think he was just trying to give us a bit of commentary on our journey, pointing out the train station to us.
Sensing our confusion, he tried again to explain the piece of paper he'd gone to get. This time we think we understood - he needed a piece of paper to leave Marrakech for the whole day. We'd paid for a day's tour, which meant he would not be able to come back to Marrakech so needed to ensure they were aware of his location.
We were soon on a highway where I was reassured by the signs pointing to Essaouira. He said some more strange words, something about his car, and the next thing I know we're stopped at the side of the road at a garage as he gets it checked out. Not quite so reassuring!
We continued the drive and this time were on the road for much longer as he chatted away with us in his French and we attempted to speak back in our snippets of broken French. He pointed out various points on the way for us. Essaouira by taxi turns out to be a very long way, about 4 hours if memory serves! No wonder he needed permission to be out of Marrakech for the day. We drove through one town which appeared to be a bit rough and I was glad we didn't stop there - I had seen some men covered from head to toe in their robes carrying rather large looking rifles. I didn't know how to ask and I didn't want to draw attention, so I just sat silently intrigued. It wasn't until our journey home later that day that we learnt there was some form of festival and thankfully this was all for show - by this time there were lots of men in similar outfits, this time on horseback, charging and putting on a display for the crowds of locals which involved lots of shooting into the air (I didn't see any tourists, this appeared to be a celebration for their own pleasure only). He tried to explain what it was to us, but we never gathered the full-picture. As far as I could tell it was entertaining and that was enough explanation for me.
Back to the drive to our destination... we continued our awkward conversations with the driver who seemed like a pleasant enough chap, if only we'd understood him a bit more. He pointed out other sights and towns of interest to us along the way. We'd passed several police stops but on one particular occasion we actually stopped at one. He got out the car and had a conversation with the policemen. Jayne and I remained in the car, again a little nervous that our language barrier was about to leave us stranded in the middle of nowhere as we didn't have our passports on us and figured the police must have pulled him over because we looked so out of place. Shortly after we hear the boot open and close, we're back on the road again. As we drove off he explained that he'd basically been caught speeding and had to pay the police off to avoid it going on his official record... or at least, I think that was the gist. Again, reassuring to know that the police are so easily bought in Morocco!
We kept driving and our next point of interest was a bunch of goats stood in a tree. I don't know if the locals put them there to cause tourists like us to pull over and get photos, and then presumably give them money, but if that was the case it worked for the bus load of tourists in front of us. Jayne and I discreetly got pictures from a distance and then we were on our way again. We saw several Argan oil vendors on the sides of the roads, and politely declined to stop at all of them. Just as we were coming into Essaouira we saw a viewpoint. We stopped to take photos and were greeted by more entrepreneurial locals selling camel rides. The lay-by was probably all of 10 metres long! Seemed a bit pointless to me but quite cleverly opportunistic as there was a family on one of the camels and queues of people waiting to have a ride. We took some pictures of the city from a distant and then made our way back to the car for the final leg of our journey - the journey that had turned out to be more entertaining than the city of Essaouira itself!
Now don't get me wrong, Essaouira was absolutely great. I'm so glad we made the trip there but it was a long day, and one of my fondest memories as I write this blog post in hindsight was the journey. Anyhow, in our new communication style we arranged where and when we would meet our driver, exchanged numbers in case of a problem, and headed into this very windy, very European-looking seaside town. First stop: caffeine! It had been a long journey after all. We then wandered around all the souks - it was a much calmer pace than that of Marrakech, and the layout seemed less confusing somehow. We weren't hassled anywhere near as much and were glad that this was the place we had decided to buy our gifts and souvenirs from. I bought a lovely scarf, which I probably paid more than I needed to for but the guy laid the guilt-trip on me and as he'd made the effort when others hadn't, I figured he deserved my money. Plus, it really is a very lovely scarf. We bought some lovely pottery bits and had a general mooch about the little roads and admired the colourful buildings. We found somewhere for lunch and watched some street performers doing somersaults and acrobatics - no small feat given the cobbled, very hard surface they were performing on. One wrong move and they could've seriously injured themselves. After lunch we did a bit more shopping, wandered around some walls that overlooked the sea, and then had another drink before eventually heading back to meet our driver. I don't know what he'd been up to for the day but he seemed to know people, and he was in good spirits.
Our journey home was less eventful, being so tired after a long day. We continued our awkward-but-amusing conversations for most of the journey. The driver was obviously tired too and the closer to Marrakech we got, the more times I watched as he nearly fell asleep at the wheel. We did eventually make it back safely to the hotel. I hope he made it back to his family safely too.
It was our last full-day in Morocco but it had been another amazing one. Again, the weather, although windy, had been kind to us in Essaouira. In Marrakech there had been torrential downpours again. We'd become experts at dodging the rain. Tomorrow would be a day at the poolside because we were catching a later flight. Let's hope our rain-avoiding-tactics would continue.
We ended the evening with some more cards, some yummy but fairly non-African food from the hotel (quiche) and another toast courtesy of Francois. As we chatted she explained how tough it's been with the recession and various bad news stories from Africa. People don't come because they don't think it's safe. I was saddened to hear this because I had not felt unsafe at any point (not seriously anyway - the souks on our first day were a minor irritation at times). We chatted with another couple from the UK who we'd met briefly the day before and exchanged stories and recommendations. They were from Brighton and had been to the mountains, driving themselves. They were older than us - their kids have all grown up - and they were enjoying going to various exotic destinations. They were keen swimmers and had even been using the hotel swimming pool. When I think of Brits abroad, I guess they kind of fitted the bill but they seemed a lovely couple, even if they were a bit mad for swimming when the pool was sooo cold. We eventually retired to bed after a very long but thoroughly enjoyable day.
So we headed to Fogg Dam which is also home to birds and plantlife. Oh, and some other critters too.
