Get some sleep on the plane, I said. Take your Dukoral, I said. Go easy on the street food, I said. Alas, my travel advice goes unheeded by my friend who flew in from Winnipeg. We Rock the Kasbah…and then she falls horribly ill. I will call her Winnie the Pooh. Because, well, you can imagine. Our trek across the Sahara, scrapped. Rather than get seriously bummed, I rally. I already know I’ll return to Marrakech. I love it here. Those shifting sands of the great Sahara will just have to wait. Winnie too, perks up, after a brief hospital visit and a few days of bedrest. So, with Marrakech in our rearview mirror, we go forward with our itinerary and head straight for the station to catch a train to Casablanca. Trains in Morocco are
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