Essaouiran Escapades

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When deciding on the trip to Morocco, one of the attractive features was that, despite being super dooper laid back and being able to do lots of yoga, we also got to travel around a bit.

So the following day (Saturday I think) after our morning yoga session and chilling out over breakfast, it was into a mini bus and off to Sidi Kaouki. Now Sidi Kaouki is definitely off the beaten track, while still only 27kms from Essaouira, which was to be our next port of call. In fact my Lonely Planet guide for Morocco - yes, nerd alert! - indulges just over half a page on the small place, really only highlighting that it is mostly popular with wind surfers.

Really just a collection of ramshackle buildings, it is hard to tell where the actual village may be; the central focus is the ocean and the large wide expanse of beach where donkeys and camels roam. The drive to Sidi Kaouki was fairly uneventful, chatting at the back of the bus (where else?) and avoiding the sweltering heat and burning sun. The landscape actually reminded me quite a lot of outback Australia! Lots of dirt, red changing to white, scrubby plants and...Eucaplyts! They don't smell the same as home but they certainly look the same! Watching the landscape along the road to Sidi Kaouki made me realise how homesick I had been, or perhaps, how far away from the road I wanted to be on my mind had been. But, the combination of the heat, the sandy dirt, the trees, the yoga, the people I was with, I was back on track!

After a couple of hours on the road (and a quick rest stop where the musicians definitely needed to be tipped just to go away; they were terrible!) we crested the all important hill and suddenly, there it was. The refreshing, cooling Atlantic Ocean. With sighs of relief and cheers from our driver - he was a little excitable - we were almost there. It is funny how like the south west of WA it felt. Not the same, just similar.

As I mentioned in the previous installment, yoga practice was our only real deadline throughout the trip, however this in turn dictated how and when we ate. And because of the lacksidasical nature of hospitality in the region we were reminded that it was better to eat early because of the inevitable wait. So, after checking in - I was sharing in the naughty girl room with Pam and Laura! - we headed down to the surf shack where, after about an hour and a half I had the best omelette ever! The rest of the afternoon quickly dissappeared after a quick swim in the pool to cool off and yoga practice. As you can tell from the pictures, yoga practice was awfully difficult, clearly the location and the view were very hard to deal with, especially when you are practicing your head stand and need to focus!

Dinner was out at I think the only restaurant nearby and was a lovely relaxed affair, although, of course, lengthy. On the road (read, dirt tracks) back to Windy Kaouki where we were staying, it quickly became clear that it was pitch black! Harold and I, in very Bob-and-I-like style I must say, had started off, back to the apartments, only to have trouble seeing anything! Unfortunatley for us there were no mauling teenagers as guide posts, only vague black shapes that you could barely make out! Eventually we made it home and together with the rest of the group headed back to the pool before bed. While being on the coast was much cooler, an easterly wind (again similar to home) had blown in, blowing in the heat off the desert. A quick swim before bed - how decadent!

In true holiday style the following day was spent by the pool. Chilling out after a lengthy breakfast and simply moving our chit chat from the table to the loungers by the pool was so relaxing. It was actually a little strange to just hang out by the pool, occasionally taking a dip to cool off, then returning to the safety of my shaded lounge chair. And there was no need to feel guilty about not spending the time visiting all the touristy and cultural spots because there really wasn't any! Our only real stress of the day was lunch at the surf shack which was, I think, about a 3 hour affair where nothing seemed to go right and the magnificent Moroccan omelette from the day before was unavailable. We did get to try an avocado milkshake though, which definitely needed some salt and perhaps a little sugar.

Replenished without a moment to spare, and saved in part from chocolate bars bought from the little blue fish huts that are dotted together on the coast near the mosque, it was back for yoga. And head stands! Yup, I am definitely getting it now, and once I build up a little more core strength, I am looking forward to the other crazy postures that will be strong enough for! Obviously these asanas all involve a high level of focus and concentration so relaxing is very important. And the only thing preventing that in Sidi Kaouki was the call to prayer. Not that I have a problem with the call to prayer, singing out at different times thoughout the day and night. The thing with the call at Sidi Kaouki was that it honestly sounded like someone trying to slaughter an animal, possibly a donkey or a camel. That or someone trying to cough up a lung or something. So you can imagine, the 11 of us, lying in shavashana, relaxing and readying for the up coming practice when out of nowhere comes this call! Giggling away, poor Karryn our instructor managed to get us back in line but wherever we went from then on, the call to prayer can't help but remind me of Sidi Kaouki.

The following day we headed to Essaouria (said esa-wera), stopping along the way at an argan oil collective. The trees you often see pictures of with goats perched amongst their branches are argan trees, they look at bit like olive trees, and the oil is produced from the nuts. Essentially, the women sit and remove the nuts from their pods, then they are shelled, then the raw nuts are ground and the oil used for cosmetic products or roasted before being ground for culinary oil. Throughout the whole process the waste products are reused for something, so the pod casings become fodder for the donkeys, the shells in the fire, even the rements of the nuts that don't become oil are used as some sort of cosmetic exfoliant. Such a basic set up but totally efficient and sustainable. And I even saw some goats in the trees as we drove past on the way to Essaouria!

The medina in Essaouria is surrounded by the old city wall, with the north and west sides of the wall overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The town remains a working port, alive with fishermen and boat bulding so it has a 'real' feeling about it - it isn't just a tourist town. That said, it also has a chilled out artsy vibe, with artist, musicians and others of their ilk choosing to hang out here - Jimi Hendrix lived here at one point and the Gnaoua and World Music Festical had finished the day before we arrived. Instead of the red and pink buildings of Marrakech, Essaouria is dominated by white and blue, white washed buildings with bright blue doors, of every shape, size and age. And with the coast wind, it was refreshing and cool.

Interesting point - According to my guide book (nerd alert!), during the 17th century, Essaouira was a vital link between Egypy and...Timbuktu!

Throughout the old walled medina, which was added to the Unesco World Heritage list in 2001, no cars or motorbikes are allowed so you can stroll around without any of the risk that you take when wandering about in Marrakech. Luciky for us, there are a group of entreprenuerial porters who tow and push along these big blue trailers, so while they pushed along their carts with our baggage, we were free to wander towards our riad, which was on the opposite side of the medina, soaking in the vibe that is Essaouira.

Our riad turns out to be absolutely gorgeous - . Apparently the building was renovated about 3 years ago and it's lovely. The roof terrace where we have breakfast everyday overlooks the town as well as the ocean - we are right on the medina wall on two sides, surrounded only by the ocean! Not a bad view really... There is the constant sound of the waves crashing against the rocks - I love it!

Once we are happily settled in we head out into the mad riot of colour and sound. Because of the music festival the town was busy but not ridiculously so. I also happened to spot the largest afro I have ever seen - very impressive! Heaps of dirty hippies around and lots and lots of dreadlocks! Love it! Karryn, our teacher actually lives in Essaouria now so she gave us the guided tour, and we wandered along to the sounds of music and drumming everywhere.

After an afternoon of seeing the sights and getting out bearings, it was time for yoga! Now, this morning's session was a little chilly, and not knowing where we are going to be, I dressed warm. Uh oh, bad move. We were actually using a room at the Alliance Française, which, being all enclosed (we even shut the windows because of the street noise) meant I am ridiculously hot and ended up having to strip down to my very, very ugly sports bra! Lucky for me, not everyone chose to come to this session and poor Harold had his glasses off! Oops!

The following day was a little decadent - after our morning schedule of yoga and breakfast, we headed for massages! Two hours of relaxation, nothing too strenuous (although a sports massage would probably have been a better idea). There was something decidedly wrong, however, about sitting with a cup of green tea while having your feet massaged after having soaked them in rose petal strewn water! Clearly I'm not really made for a life of leisure!

Adding to the indulgence we had a leisurely lunch, sharing a bottle of wine and lots of laughs. Then just floating around the art studios before being left to my own devices, skipping the yoga session and instead wandering about the souqs, taking photos of the fish and spice markets, a spot of shopping before lounging on the terrace of our riad, listening to the waves, taking photos of the ocean and sipping on mint tea and writing in my journal...ah, how peaceful. It was so difficult to believe that a week had gone so quickly, that the next day we would travel back to Marrakech and then the following day we would be heading back to London. And I really didn't want it to end...although that seems to be a recurring theme for most of the places I have been visiting!

After the cool breeze of the coast, the heat of Marrakech was a bit of a shock to the system the next day. Arriving back in the early afternoon, Harold, Pam and I quickly formulated a plan to skip yoga, because of the heat and to fit in a few more touristy things before it was too late. Jumping in a cab we headed straight to the Jardin Marjorelle & Museum of Islamic Art. Designed by Jacques Majorelle, who lived here between 1922 -1962, it is now owned by Pierre Berge who co-owned the gardens with Yves Saint-Laurent, before his recent death. Filled with cacti and palms, bamboo and water features, there is already a monument for YSL where his ashes are buried within the gardens. The electric blue painted villa is home to the art collection. Stopping for a spot of afternoon tea, we sit in the cool gardens, being sprayed with jasmine scented mist and sip on our cups of tea and indulge in icy cool sorbet. What a bizarre life!

Throwing off the shackles of indulgence, Pam and I then headed to the hammam! The hammam is like a Turkish-style bath house. We were heading to the public hammam for the real thing, although you can get pampered in the private hammam in most riads. Stumbling through in our basic French and relying heavily on Pam's Spanish, we managed to pay for the hammam. Then we have to figure out what happens next! Stripping down to our knickers we followed Mamma Cas through the hammam. Through dimly lit halls we ended up in the inner sanctumn, a heated room - I have no idea how they are heated but it was quite hot and humid. Sitting on the heated marble floor, slipping and sliding on the water, we watched as Mamma Cas fills large buckets with water which she then proceeded to throw at us! Suitably doused we were then directed to rub this paste - we are thinking some sort of argan product - all over us, before, one at a time, we were scrubbed! Lying on the floor with my head over Mamma Cas's leg she scrubbed me within a inch of my life, curls of dirt and skin peeling off me. Flipping me over, going through the same process on the other side! All the while Pam is scouring her feet with a pumice stone before we switch roles and she gets the scrubbing treatment! Despite the pain of the scrubbing, at the same time it is invigorating and you can feel your circulation really get going. It is also pretty spectacular seeing the gross dirt being sloughed off your body and you can't help but feel cleaner than you've ever been in your life! Washing us again with argan soap which acts like a moisturiser because of the oil as well as washing our hair, you feel a lot like a kid again, having your ears roughly washed, being pushed and pulled around. Laughing and chatting throughout the whole process, Pam and I have a great time! And I can't help but love Mamma Cas for looking after us and making me all squeeky clean! Another woman who works there, a tiny lady, lifts these large buckets of water over her head for our final rinse and we crouch beneath her because she is so little. I am amazed she can lift these massive tubs. Wrapping us up, safe and sound in our towles she grabbed our hands, guiding us back through the hammam to the exit, almost as if she was petrified we would slip and fall or get lost.

Then it is back into the souqs for the last shoping expedition before our final group dinner. Harold proves to be hilarious, initially refusing to help us barter but then immediately jumping to our defences at the first 'ridiculous' price we are offered. Eventually we emerge from the souqs, laden with bits and pieces, with only enough dirhams left for dinner. Watching the craziness of the Djemma el-Fna from the balcony of the restaurant where we have dinner as the sun sets is fantastic. All these people milling around, the noises and the smells, Morocco is wonderful and I am squeeky clean!

Before we knew it, it was time for goodbyes. Most of us were on the same flight the following day but the rest we weren't going to see for a while. This is definitely the worst part of travelling, having to leave the great friends you make. Luckily for me, I decided to stay an extra night in London when I got back, visiting Gordon's Wine Bar (between Embankment and Charing Cross Stations for those of you playing at home - ) for copious amounts of yummy cheese and gorgeous red wines with Pam and Ali. Soon enough though, it was more goodbyes, Ali that night, and then Pam the next day after a sleepover at her hotel! Sitting on the train back to Folkestone with a thumping sinus headache (was it the wine or the dust of the underground? Hmmn...) I couldn't help but smile. And now I am totally enthused for the next part of the journey, whatever that may bring.

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Photos

Tagines
And they are cooking!

The beach at Sidi Kaouki
Actually, this is all of Sidi Kaouki!

The Actuary
6000 printed and we find one here...Good job we brought our own Actuary with us!

Windmill!
Aw, this reminds me of home.

There is a goat...
in the tree! Promise!