At 4am Boxing Day, in the dark, cold, and quiet morning. I made my way to the airport, and flew out of London to Marrakesh (or Marrakech) in Morocco, with my housemate. It was only a 2 hour flight, but I had landed on another contenant. The ‘Red City’ at the base of the Atlas Mountains. The Muslim, Arabic speaking city had a huge French influence and almost everyone who tried to speak to me, presumed I was French too. The taxi driver who took me to the hotel was a little adventurous to say the least. He was keen on playing 'chicken' with oncoming traffic. All in all, the people were very welcoming, however, they insisted that they follow me along the street as I went sightseeing, just in case I needed directions which they
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