Hard to believe, but Fez was even more crazy than Marrakech! From the second we jumped off the train at 2am (not literally this time) it was nuts. We caused a massive argument amongst the cab drivers by not using the first guy we spoke to and loaded our bags in while they all yelled at each other in Arabic. Our driver was pretty sheepish two minutes later when he realised he had a flat tire and that we needed to hop in one of the other taxis.
As you may be aware, I love mountains. I love the challenge of hiking to the summit, I love the wilderness and lack of people, I love staying out somewhere where the only way you can see it and experience it is to have hiked up on your own two feet and most of all I love the view from the top.
As we pulled into the crazy bustling streets of Marrakech it was time to part ways with Ibrahim. He had been good fun but really up and down thanks to Ramadan. He was cranky and tired one minute and the next cracking gags. Like when Jared first tried his turban on, Ibrahim spotted him and said “Hello Muhammad, where is Fatima”. I lost it! After dropping the kids off he left Clare and I at the main square, Jamaa El-Fnah. And after asking what riad we were staying in, gave us rough directions through the old town (or Medina) streets and told us to look out for a number 7 over the door. Sounded easy enough.
Once Ibrahim had managed to navigate the craziness of Marrakech traffic with apparent ease and we were out of the city we stopped by the roadside to check out the day’s game plan.
“As I lie here on the vinyl mattress in our tiny train cabin I have become acutely aware that there is nothing quite like the flavour of an unshowered man after a full day in the Moroccan sun! I stink, but have had an awesome day!” Jono Russell, 21st July 2013.