18 April Larache

How different can things get. This morning we were in Chefchaouen and all it's picturesque, old world charm, in a small family run hotel with things that went bump in the night and lots of things for John to 'mend'. Now we are in a large and soulless hotel in a back street of Larache, a seaside commercial town. However we have a small balcony, overlooking a busy street which is currently being dug up. We have just sat outside, drinking a beer (smuggled in) making plans and watching people and events as they happen.
We left Chefchaouen this morning and took a 'scenic route' to Ksar-el-Kebir, a winding mountainous road where we saw very little traffic, and as far as we could tell, no tourist traffic at all. Once again, people waved as we went past, working in fields, tending livestock, quite a lot of cows as well as sheep and goats. We came upon a place high in the mountains which didn't really seem to amount to a village, more like an intersection of tracks. As we approached it was so busy, so many donkeys loosely tethered, then one or two vans with goods spread out beside the road. We think it was a Souk for the sale and purchase of various commodities from outlying villages, only accessible by donkey, at a spot on a road which vehicular transport could reach. One man had set up a stall beside the road, a travelling farrier, he was trimming the hoofs of the donkeys. Some people were coming in with donkeys laden with goods, others leaving, presumably having sold and bought their produce and requirements. It would have been interesting to know of any bartering took place. The scenery was wonderful, unfortunately often obscured by low cloud. We were struck by the enormous number of olive trees. We were surprised by the lack of terracing of the hillsides. We saw people plowing with horses or donkeys, slopes so steep a tractor could never have coped. We wondered what happened when it rained, surely they lost all the top soil? Hillsides such as those would have been terraced in Greece, and could be irrigated if required.
We were with six Spanish speaking people at breakfast this morning, two from Argentina who were there the previous night and we had already met. Their son is a doctor and is married to a Spanish woman he met in Argentina, but she became homesick for her family and so they have moved back to Spain to live. They visit them frequently, but love Morocco so often fit in a few days in the northern part. The other four people were from Madrid, but also pay frequent visits to Morocco. I dredged and trawled and the Spanish started to return. It was so nice to be speaking it again, however badly, I will work on it.
There was something I forgot to put into the blog about yesterday, we were standing on the bridge watching the women washing their carpets when a man came up to me, quite a respectable looking man in western dress. He asked if I would like to go to his farm and check out his produce, and maybe buy some plants. Do I really look like a wholesale cannabis dealer?
I wrote the first part of the blog,above as we drank another beer, because it started to rain quite heavily. It was overcast when we left Chefchaouen this morning and rain was forecast, it looked as if there had been some rain as we came through the mountains. John went to move the car into a better parking place and saw a young man with a newspaper wrapped parcel which looked like two cans of beer, so he asked him if there was anywhere here in Lara he that you could buy beer. The answer was yes and he was shown where to go. There was a queue (of Moroccans) and while he was waiting he was asked if he wanted to buy some 'chocolate'.
The rain stopped and we went on an exploration of Larache. There is no hint of tourist Morocco here. There are lots of hotels, a lot of which looked shut up. Presumably they are here to accommodate the Moroccans who flock to the coast in the summer to escape the heat. At this time of year it is warmer than the interior. Larache is at the mouth of a river and has a good harbour, the coastline around it is very rocky, but evidently there are nice beaches a short distance away and it has a reputation of being liberal and women are allowed to swim here. It is very scruffy, we walked down to the port area and it was like any other. Groups of men were standing around, talking, smoking. The harbour was packed with boats, some going out and coming in. We climbed up to the Medina, a small maze of alleys as in other Medina's. There was no pretence to make it pretty, but still walls were blue-washed and some doorways tiled. In the centre was a square with the market, some fruit and vegetable stalls, but mostly second hand items, clothing and tools, and plastic goods.
We went out of the Medina by another gate, into the Central Place, with an island in the middle with lots of children's rides. We sat oat a pavement cafe and drank mint tea, people watching. There seem to be many more people in western dress here, men in jeans and trainers. The women mostly had their heads covered, but there were quite a few who didn't, but were also wearing jeans and jackets. We finished our look around with supper in a back street cafe where John had a reasonable paella and I had a plate piled with more grilled sardines than I could eat in two sittings, garnished with coriander. We also had a mixed salad, beetroot, grated carrot, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumber, lettuce, a bowl of olives, and a dish of spicy tomato sauce. It all came to about £8, including a generous tip.