An Accident on the Road, and Essaouira

An interesting village on the coast boasting a well preserved medina with Portuguese heritage, Essaouira is a bit of a relief for travellers coming from wilder Moroccan territories. To me, having survived an accident on the road travelling here from Rabat, Essaouira is not much more than a stop towards the desert.

I walk the streets and observe. Unimpressed. Still harassed by haxixe sellers, I try to forget the car that crossed the road in front of my bike without warning. I look for good images. I search for bread that hasn't been touched by everybody who comes into the shop. I try to enjoy the food, to ignore the discomfort in the campsite, to deal with the communication difficulties when I have to compete for attention at small shops and ask for things behind the counter...

Both me and the bike got away with little damage. My left knee and the bike's left side are all scratched... We slipped down the tarmac some twenty metres, the metal parts sparking, my gloves being reduced to a pair of leather sieves with big holes. At that instant I thought it was the end of my trip.

Travelling is dealing with the unexpected. It's not just wonderful places or exciting moments. It is discerning what one likes and what a place lacks. To carry on travelling is to keep hope. Like the guys who pedal everyday through a little bit of this continent hoping to get to South Africa by next Christmas.

I picked up my bike with a broken clutch handle and started the engine. It still worked fine. I got out my winter gloves from the torn luggage. I got on the road again.

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