Luckydog Adventures: Camels on the Beach? Essaouira!

We’ve made it to Morocco! It was an easy flight, even on not-always-so easy Ryan Air. And we’ve had a bit of a culture shock. Morocco is, after all, a developing nation. Which is to say, it can still use a lot of development. Essaouira, where we are now, has an ancient history, having been settled by the Phoenicians (something about a mollusk and a pretty blue dye). The Portuguese were here for a time, but what we see as the old city was built in the 18^th century. Once you get away from the medina (the old town), it’s full of newer buildings, but overall Essaouria is a quiet beach town. In contrast, Seville, the city we have just left, still shows signs of its former vast wealth. Here in Morocco, everything is different: the landscape, the buildings, the people. And the food! We like to joke we’ve traded tapas for tajine (and tarts!); elegant for exotic; churches for the call to prayer. Now we see fewer coats, and more caftans.

Our first view of Essaouria and the Atlantic from the bus!

Bab Sbaa, main entrance to the Essaouria medina

It’s a different place, almost a different time. We felt a bit disconnected, untethered. But we’re starting to re-groove, get into the new swing. We keep asking ourselves, why did we come here? But now, slowly, I think we’re getting it. I think Paula expressed it best:

It’s in the eyes and smile of the older woman who was crossing the street at the same time we were and stumbled over a broken tile. She looked at me and vice versa and in about 10 seconds we had a silent conversation about the condition of the streets and watchfulness; and, as always, the hand on the heart whispering “salaam”. It’s about the taxi driver taking us back from the supermarket with our four big bags of groceries and I’m wondering how much he will charge— no meters here. Taciturn to the point of ignoring us for the whole eight-minute trip, his response to my “Combien?” (how much?) when we arrive is “Sept Dirham!” with a big smile and a shrug as if we’d done this every day for a month. No rip off from him! (That’s about 70 cents, US). And the guy at the vegetable stand. When I asked if he had eggs, he called out to the vendor across the street and in a second someone ran over with six eggs. “Should I pay him?” I asked, indicating the other stall owner. He just smiled and said, “No, all taken care of!” It’s the feeling of “inshallah” everywhere—whatever God wills. I feel very peaceful.

It's a beach town! The median seen from a distance, across the endlessly breaking waves.

The beach, and... camels. (OK, dromedaries. Does it really matter?)

One thing about returning to a place is that there is a satisfaction in knowing our way around, in recognizing people and places. And, admittedly, some of the adventure is lost the second time around. I’m less inclined to photo document our every step, because hey, I did such a great job last time, there’s just nothing new to see! I’ll get over that, but for an immediate Essaouria fix, or if you need to know where we are on the map (what? Don’t you remember from last time??), you can check here: Our blog from Essaouria in 2017. There’s a map about half way through. (And lots of great photos, too!) But the storm described there? Hasn’t happened this time. (Yet!)

Outer walls of the median, just down from Bab Sbaa

Must be strawberry season! Plenty of everything available in the median.

Looking out from La Vague Bleu, our favorite local restaurant.

We’ve linked up with Diane, a Brit we met here two years ago. She’s been living in Essaouria part-time for decades, and likes to organize outings for visitors and ex-pats. The other day four of us took a taxi out to the river and spent a couple of hours hiking. We were accompanied by Lew, our new best friend. We met Lew at the elevator of our building (the town was having a water crisis and we were all wondering what was going on). Turns out he’s staying in the apartment we occupied two years ago! So HE’S the reason we couldn’t book that place again! Instead, this time around we’re occupying an apartment on the other side of the same building (outside the medina; it’s one of the newer buildings mentioned earlier).

Our first inland excursion -- a hike along the river.

In Essaouria you have a choice of what to ride on the beach: four legs, or four wheels?

Or, you can ride the waves! Surfers returning after a good day on the water.

We’ve taken to meeting with Lew each afternoon for coffee at the beach café just down the street, where we entertain each other with tales of our travels. Another Brit, he’s spent the last few decades in Vancouver, BC, as a ship’s master, piloting massive car ferries through the islands and narrow straits up to Prince Rupert. It’s fun when Lew and Diane get together, as they both grew up in Yorkshire (NE England, sort of), and when they get together they fall into a sort of Yorkshire patois, throwing out words that leave Paula and I just staring at each other!

Breakfast at a cafe just inside the walls of the medina.

Life has settled into a routine: we plan further trips (and write the blog!) in the morning, maybe visit the medina for fresh vegetables; then coffee with Lew in the afternoon, as camels and horses move across the sand, and kite surfers skate across the water. The fishing boats come in; we shade our eyes from the intense sun. And plan: Tomorrow we’ll have lunch at Le Vague Bleu, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the medina with excellent food; the next day we’ll take the bus to Safi, another town up the coast. Beach clean-up on Sunday? We’ll be there! (Unless we want to sleep in…)