Marrakech

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We took the train from Rabat to Marrakech and were sat with four art college
piglets from the UK which made the journey long and tiresome, we remedied
this by sleeping with our heads against the grubby glass for the 4 1/2 hour
journey.
I pretended to know where the hotel was and dragged Alice with a heavy
bag several kilometres through the streets of Marrakech, eventually we found
a lovely, little room above a tranquil, orange tree shaded courtyard. The
man was really friendly and had a laugh like the deformed monster from The Goonies.
The main square in Marrakech (Djemma el Fna) is massive and each night comes alive with storytellers, henna ladies, dancers, musicians and beggars.
This is all illuminated by the lanterns of a hundred food and orange juice stalls. We have been eating at our favorite stall crammed between locals on fold up benches surrouning a grill spewing smoke out of the top and attended by about fifteen chefs all shouting at the same time. We had a job keeping our left hands under the table as we shoveled sausages, bread and red stuff (a little like salsa) down our faces.
Some of the more adventurous stalls serve up snails and sheeps heads but for the time being we stuck to unidentified-meat sausages.
The new town is dull here but the McDonalds has an Arabic hump in the roof so we joined the masses and went inside for a Coke after being sent on a several hour wild goose chase for a map of the Atlas Mountains - we never did find one.

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