Chillin' out in Essaouira

As it turned out our journey southwards down the coast to Essaouira was fraught with difficulties. Having missed the bus in Casablanca, we ended up getting one to Safi, an industrial town 2 hours north of our goal. The plan being to spend the night there and get a bus the rest of the way the following morning.

However, after a night in a room without air-conditioning, with mosquitos and a husband being violently sick, we had to move on to plan C. Having changed our tickets, this time for the evening bus, and visited the pharmacy, the aim was to get the man well enough to travel. The guide-book says there isn't much to see in Safi and what there was I certainly never saw! An attempt to walk alone down to the harbour area to kill some time while Kevin rested, had to be abandoned after a creepy guy on a moped started dogging my footsteps - despite the fact I was dressed in trousers and had on a cardigan! So we whiled away the hours in a darkened sitting room, and with a couple of short excursions to a local cafe with air-conditioning to give the local men something to talk about.

With a combination of medication and acupuncture, Kevin managed the journey to Essaouira, but spent the next day in bed, and though recovering slowly is still a very cheap dinner-date!

Essaouira is a small town on the Atlantic coast with a very laid-back atmosphere. The windy city has a pleasant climate, relatively cool in the summer due to the trade winds making it a popular place for surfers among others. Historically, it was an important trading post used by Europeans and Arabs alike - a link between Europe and Timbuktu. A French architect, Theodore Cornut, was employed by the reigning sultan to design a city there in the eighteenth century, which is why the town resembles St. Malo (which he also designed). Essaouira's more recent claims to fame are as a place where hippies such as Jimi Hendrix liked to hang, and you still get offered "space cookies" on the beach! Orson Welles filmed Othello here, and the town also provided the inspiration for Thorbjørn Egner's Kardemommeby.

We've been staying in the lovely Ryad Wathier, owned by Frenchman Jean Gabriel. A beautiful airy four-storey house, where breakfast is served on the roof terrace from which you can glimpse the sea. We were intrigued to recognize Aboriginal paintings among the works of art in our room and elsewhere around the house. The man is a real collector and has among other things sailed all over the world and spent time in Australia. A genuinely nice and interesting guy who made us feel very welcome and even invited me to eat with the family while Kevin was ill.

Essaouira's famed winds have not been so apparent during our stay, which made the beach a very pleasant place to relax and while away the hours. It's fascinating just watching everything that's going on; Moroccan families and tourists enjoying the sun, sand and ocean, hawkers of sunglasses and watches (RayBan and Rolex, no less!) and the inevitable cookie sellers.

Yesterday I treated myself to a visit to a Hammam (bath-house or spa) - an otherworldly experience! You go down some steps, strip off and enter a dimly-lit, warm steamy cellar with a few mats on the floor. At one end are troughs where the ladies fill buckets of water (hot and cold). First I was swilled down, then black olive soap was applied. Once that had soaked in well, I was scrubbed from head to toe and then caked in a body mask. While I lay there letting it do its work, they went to work on another couple of women. Afterwards I was swilled down again, my hair washed and then was massaged all over with argan oil. The whole process took an hour and a half. Though at times pure torture (particularly when my sunburn was scrubbed), it left me with skin that feels 20 years younger!

Well, that was the last stop on the road. Now it's back to Marrakech and a sweltering 47 degrees (according to the thermometer!), and then home again to fifteen degrees and rain! Ah well, always good to get home again.....until the next trip

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