Wednesday, 15 May 2019

Morocco day two

Day two in Morocco

A trip to Agadir was the order of the day, more to prove a theory as much to relax and make the most of the down time.

The morning saw a gentle start with a healthy frugal breakfast of fruit yoghurt and bread eaten on the roof terrace with all of the guests, a real mix from Germany, Netherlands, USA, France, Argentina and Spain. It seems that crossing the Med to Africasees a much more cosmopolitan and eclectic mix of travellers.

On the way to the sole bus station on the coast road between Tamraght and Agadir Will pick up a stray dog whom we named Phyllis and stuck with us for an hour until we jumped on the number to Agadir.

The journey was quick and uneventful but interesting to se in daylight the terrain we had traversed the previous evening.

We were dropped of in a car park in central Agadir deciding to follow the trail of tourist breadcrumbs to the red brick esplanade throngs with cheap hotels and street traders. The clientele were thin on the ground so we were a constant target. We eventually ended up in a nameless restaurant and ordered basic fare of cheeseburger and a turkey sandwich, simple. Two hours later the food turns up, rant suppressed due to blood pressure.

From there we decided that we would check out the English Pub and then go back. True to form the bar was stereotypically full of fat sweaty sex pests enjoying their steak and kidney pie or sausage egg and chips. My theory was proved! I'm not sure if I felt mor smug, vindicated in my ranting or disappointed. The fact that the two halfs of lager cost over ten quid iced the boing cake. Why on earth do we as a nation do this? A hang over to imperialistic dogma perhaps? So, no more words, Agadir is an embryonic Benidorm.

Day done, a sweaty and packed bus journey later and we were back at the hostel for a nap. A lovely meal out at Adams restaurant and we now find ourselves having a post Ramadan beer on the roof terrace. Marrakech tomorrow.

Morocco day one 14th May

I realise that with the multitude of simple apps available today a written blog or journal must seem a waste of effort and largely pointless. My reason for writing, more than anything is to collect my thoughts and rant in a more precise fashion. I realise also that in reality no-one will read this so I probably will not share. If you are reading this, how? Please let me know.

Waking this morning after a fitful night was relaxing, no agendas, no pressures, no idea where's he stairs and taking a  I am. The call to prayer came at three fifteen, an hour early for Ramadan, drowning out the insect chorus and waking all, for a time. Falling back asleep saw me waking at seven and rising to find an empty secured building. Sitting on the stairs and taking a moment to reflect I realised what a difficult time the past six years have been for Emma and the kids in particular a and how I haven't really been a positive, helpful frame of mind for quite some time. This was clearly illustrated with my irritation,ire and downright anger during the flight yesterday.

Agadir is the new Benidorm, or has aspirations to become such. That was and is my prediction/theory anyway. The Ryanair flight from Stansted to Agadir certainly reinforced the notion. The couple of screeching, cackling middle-aged witches from east London sitting behind Will and I were almost perfectly stereotypical to prove my theory outright on the clientele the resort now attracts. They were drunk to begin with, had no idea where they were travelling to, topped up constantly with Prosecco (which is the drink of choice for those who generally knows fuck all about wine). The constancy recitation of their innocuous repot lire of songs from Grease was highly reminiscent of old drunken Scotsmen who habitually plagued my train trips to Carlisle from Plymouth. Matters were made worse when a one of these harridans staggered across her friend on her way to the toilet and elbowing me solidly on the crown of my bonce. I was not so pissed of at the assault more that she woke me from blissful ignorant slumber to which I could not return, bastard!

I'll skip the other highlights of the flight as it will just make me sound like a grumpy, intolerant middle-aged, arrogant snob, which I am. One more, after a couple of hours a number of passengers not least of which my friends the witches, started complaining about how long the journey was taking. FFS! The captain of course rethought his strategy and landed nearly two hours early, arseholes!

I'll close the Ryanair account with another display of rage borne from arrogance; upon landing the cabin erupted into cheers and clapping, what! Not only was it evident that most had not strayed too far beyond their local cost uttersg let alone flown abroad but that the fact the magic metal bird had not eaten them was a miracle.

Enough of that, obviously both Will and I are looking forward tremendously to the return flight. We finally arrived at the hostel following a non description taxi ride from 'Agadir' airport to Tamraght surf hostel, checked in then explored the dusty alleyways of Tamraght to find a small,quiet restaurant, Mona, where Will tried the poulet brochettes and I the viande tagine, pretty good. And so to bed and rewind back to the beginning.

Off to Agadir today, will update later.