Rabat

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Bread and jam was the free breakfast at the youth hostel and we enjoyed it in the courtyard before packing and heading through the grand gates of the medina. The best way to look around was to get as lost as possible in the maze of streets and shops and we were in there for well over an hour. Paul emerged with a fake Nike Morocco soccer shirt that he picked up for Dh100.

Kasbah Des Oudaias stands guarding the mouth of Oued Bou Regreg, the river that seperates Rabat from Salé and introduces itself with a grandiose gate that dates back to 1195, Bab Odaia. The huge building is adorned with Arabic verse and, thanks to it's scenic location, has to be a "must see" in Morocco. We wandered around the Kasbah grounds and stumbled upon a tranquil village with narrow, cobblestone streets and blue & whitewashed walls. We could see nothing modern at all - we could have been transported back to the 13th century without even realising it... until a group of German tourists came up on us from the opposite end of the village. The few locals we came across were all in traditional Muslim dress and were sweeping the pavement or scurrying around with their shopping.

Just outside of the village area we came across the Andalucían Gardens, a tranquil courtyard surrounded by the tall walls of the Kasbah. The Musee des Oudaia overlooked the gardens and was exhibiting paintings, maps and photographs from various periods of the regions history. We spent some time taking a look before heading down to the riverfront.

The owners of small, wooden rowboats scouted for business in what appeared to be a fairly lucrative, though competitive trade in river taxis. The boats were filled with people, animals and shopping and crossed from the shores of Rabat to Salé in the same manner that I'm sure they have done for hundreds of years.

It was a fair climb up the hill to our next stop Le Tour Hassan and the Mausoleum of King Mohammed V. The shrill of the call to prayer from a megaphone at the top of the tower signified that we had timed our arrival well and we watched quietly from the back of the assembled masses as the afternoon prayer took place. This was the perfect place for prayer and even as an atheist, I took the opportunity to think about what a great trip we had to date and enjoyed the reflective quiet atmosphere.

Lunch was at a street café in the Ville Nouvelle, the New Town - away from the peace and quiet of the older part of Rabat. As we were eating a few dodgy looking people circulated us, looking at our backpacks. Fortunately, a couple of locals at the table next door got rid of them for us. One of them introduced himself in a combination of perfect French and terrible English as a local architect. When we told him we were from New Zealand.

"Ahhh, Oui - The All Blacks"

He proceeded to do a rather comedic version of the haka.

"Very funny", he continued.

Our 1517 train pulled into Rabat Station at 1538 and the two hour journey to Meknes took nearly three hours. We were forced to stand in a very narrow aisle surrounded by people and their luggage, The lack of air-conditioning made the trip even more uncomfortable. The locals - who we assumed must have been used to such conditions - were having a bit of a laugh at our situation as we shuffled our backpacks and ourselves from side to side as folks moved about the train.

On arrival in Meknes I fell off the train and left those on the platform running for cover as I fell. Fortunately, I somehow managed to keep my feet - just. It was certainly not a graceful exit.

We checked in to a hostel and walked through the Ville Nouvelle to find a place for dinner. On the wall of the restaurant was a poster of a safari park with a snow-covered mountain in the distance. I was staring at the poster but a group of blokes at a table between us and the wall thought I was staring at them. Once I signalled that I was in fact looking at the poster, a heated discussion ensued amongst them. The discussion was then joined by the Dutch couple at the table next door and eventually by the waiter. Paul, Jo and I had no idea what was going on until the Dutch lady looked at us.

"Photoshop"

On the way home from dinner I stopped in at a barbers shop for a haircut (Dh30) after which Paul and I resolved to return the next day for a cut-throat shave.

We retired to the hostel early and got a good night's sleep.

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