G painted the walls in our finca. Moroccan style. Passed O level art, see?
This trip to Morocco has been brief, far too brief but we have a hectic schedule and are much in demand. Not really, just an appointment to have my bum waxed and G needs more Botox.
Okay, neither of them are true, but we have promised to meet some old friends next week in Spain so will have to say ta ta to Morocco, until the next time.
Had a brilliant lunch today after a long walk on an empty beach. Nobody ever mentions the beaches when they talk about Morocco, but they're brilliant and it's good to be back by the sea again. G’s main course was ‘chicken beast,’ so I think he expected something the size of a donkey, but they just spelt it as beast instead of breast. He loved it though, but he gets excited by toast so perhaps he isn't such a gourmet as he used to be.
We were talking the other day to some people who were on their first trip to Morocco and they asked ‘what are the must-see places?’ I passed them on to G as he’s more likely to say sensible places. I started to make a list and then realised two of the places I picked weren't even in Morocco! G always says I must have been off school on the day they did Geography.
I told G, don't forget the beach football and the tree climbing goats. They seemed happy when he finished, but they were a bit drunk anyway so will get lost a lot.
The same people sat with their gobs open when they asked us and we counted up the different countries we've been to. Can't remember how many it is now because I started to get mixed up after we got to fifty and went for a wee instead. We agree on best places though. Spain for the weather all year round, France especially the South of France for stylishness, if that's a word, Canada for scenery, Morocco for experiences and to live in, if could only pick one, New Zealand.
In case G forgets, I’ll tell you about the goats. If you go along the road from Marrakech to Essaouira you’ll see goats climbing trees. They eat the nuts in argan trees and seem happy enough to be up high in the branches munching away. The way it works is a bit disgusting, but not if you're a Berber. The goats eat the nuts, it's really the softer covering they like and then the goat man waits until his goats poo out the middle of the nut which is too hard to be eaten, then it's collected, the seeds removed and pressed to make argon oil for salad dressing and cosmetics. Argan oil is apparently the world's most expensive oil. Fancy that, considering before it goes into bottles it's just goat poo.
I suspect the goat man waits until he hears a car coming then chucks a few goats up the tree so he can ask for money to have a photo taken.
The other place I really love is Essaouira. We sat in a restaurant there once and there were photos of the owner with Jimi Hendrix and Cat Stevens. He took a photo of us as well and it's on his wall now as well. I think he thought we were famous. We are, but we don't make a big thing of it. It's a great place. There's a walled medina, the fishing boats are bright blue and it's the best place we know for surfing.
There's a huge beach too and the local boys and men play beach football at night with floodlights shining on the beach. G plays every time we go and loves it. I can't tell whether it's a dozen games going on at once or one big game with a hundred players on each side. G says it's like when he played as a kid with jumpers for goalposts. Just as well we're not there now as he’s still struggling with a torn Achilles' tendon and would have to go in goal.
Sorry this trip is so short. The second time we came to Morocco we stayed six months, did a house up and sold it and loved very minute, although too many limitations to live there permanently. When we went back to Spain we decorated our finca in Moroccan style and am sure that made it so popular with renters as we rented it out every week from Easter to October while we were slaving away doing up our other house.
We parked up yesterday and an urchin turned up and wanted money to watch the car. You have to pay them "or else". G gave him 100 euros, I mean 1 euro. I said to G he looked as if he had got ringworm and nits. G said "don't exaggerate". Anyway, when we got back I noticed he wet wiped the handles (actually all four).
I’ll let G tell you the rest as all this writing is making me tired! May have to be tomorrow though as he wants to go as the chairs in this Internet café are not bottom friendly.