The Storyteller

The experience of walking across the Djemma El Fnaa at full speed is a strange one - and not one that we undertake lightly as there is just so much to see everywhere you look. But tonight is different - we are on our way to a small store known as KIS Boutique where a BBC broadcaster, Richard Hamilton, will be reading from his book 'The Last Storytellers: Tales from the heart of Morocco'. I bought a copy of this book in the UK around Christmas time and brought it with me to Morocco, being unaware of the author's anticipated visit. And tonight is the night where some of these tales will unfold before my eyes.

'What's it all about?' I can hear you ask. Well, this is a topic that I've found really interesting for some time now - the demise of the storytellers in the Djemma El Fnaa. When tourists come to Marrakech and visit this main 'Square' they will notice the snake charmers, the water sellers, the monkey men, the henna tattooists, the orange juice stalls, the various musicians, the food stalls - all the life that inhabits this place and makes it so wonderful - but hidden amongst all this activity was once upon a time another type of entertainment, the Storyteller - men who would do simply that, tell stories.

Before the arrival of the Arabs in North Africa in the 7th century, storytelling was already deeply-ingrained in the Berber way of life. The Berbers were the indigenous people of Morocco and the language used was mainly oral rather than using script as we do today. Storytelling was at the heart of their way of life and these men would travel from village to village sharing stories about the different way of life in different regions. Passing on information in this manner was the main way of communicating at that time. Throughout the centuries this tradition of storytelling has continued, and from this stock has come the Storytellers of Marrakech, who for maybe a thousand years have continued this unbroken tradition, sharing stories of wisdom and ancient knowledge in the Djemma El Fnaa to all who would listen. Only now, over the past few years, these storytellers have all died out...and the  ancient tradition is no more.

The Storytellers may now be no longer here in person, but Richard Hamilton has spent the last few years tracking down the last remaining storytellers  (all of whom have since either passed away or retired), and interviewing them. With the use of a translator he has captured many of the stories and written down their words of wisdom for future generations to enjoy. Tonight he will be reading some of the tales from his book and signing copies. It is important to us to be here, to bear witness to all that has gone before.

So that's why we are making our way through the throngs of people in the Djemma El Fnaa and heading for KIS Boutique where Richard is waiting to regale us with some of the tales of a bygone age.

We are welcomed and led to the roof terrace of the small boutique where a very welcome glass of wine awaits us, and it is not long before we are then invited downstairs to lounge on cushions around a rose petal-filled fountain to hear from the Storyteller. We hear from Richard about his painstaking efforts to track down the last few existing storytellers in order to capture their 'treasures' (as he refers to the stories), then he loses us in a world of fantasy where the poor Moroccan becomes 'rich' in spirit, the wealthy are brought low, and everything is achievable for those who are honest and good. We all sit silently, hanging onto his every word, like a bunch of nursery kids who daren't move as it will break the spell. All too soon 'storytime' is over and the socialising begins, accompanied by fabulous food and wine kindly provided by the staff at KIS Boutique. By midnight the last stragglers (us included) make our way back through the now much quieter streets of Marrakech and continue homeward...after all, we don't want to suffer the same fate as the stepsister in the Storyteller's Moroccan version of Cinderella....

http://www.richard-hamilton.com/the-last-storytellers/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/KIS-Boutique-Keep-It-Secret-Marrakech/319500001433497

The Storyteller at work

   

The audience

Socialising in the newly-opened café

Essaouira revisited

Hubby and I are celebrating our 19th wedding anniversary this week with a return visit to that old hippy haunt, Essaouira. The metal of choice for this particular anniversary is said to be bronze...maybe bronzed bodies? Er, I think not...burnt bodies perhaps is nearer the truth. It's so hot now in Tahannaout and Marrakech with temperatures falling between 32-38 degrees that we are really looking forward to a few days away in the cooler zone of Essaouira with its Alizée winds which make sunbathing practically impossible but allow for long walks along the beach in the cool air.

The journey to Essaouira is punctuated with stops to buy snacks, avail ourselves of the facilities and to relieve the boredom of the motorway which, although fast, is surrounded by barren landscape. A few hours later we reach the top of the hill just before Essaouira and can see the blue sea stretching endlessly in front of us, the islands with their rocky outcrops standing in stark contrast - now it is all just a few miles away. The journey disappears into oblivion as we arrive at this old seaside town.

We are met at the car park by Abdul (after a bit of confusion when two French guys think we are their clients and try to take us to their riad), a lovely gentleman who manages the British-owned riad in which we are staying. He calls over a barrow boy who helps us to haul our luggage into his barrow and off we go along the narrow cobbled streets to find our bed for the next 3 nights. We are surprised when we have eventually reached our room after climbing the ornate staircase that the terrace of our apartment overlooks the sea across some rooftops. We have the whole floor to ourselves comprising two double bedrooms, a kitchenette and a terrace with table and chairs and sun loungers - can't be bad.

Our very own terrace with seaview

The one thing we forgot when choosing this location is that Essaouira is known as 'The Windy City' and this description can also by extension lead to the title of 'Damp City'! Hence there follows three nights of me wearing my dressing gown in bed with my trusty freebie National Trust blanket wrapped around my legs in a vain attempt to keep out the damp. Thankfully no photos were taken!

Our apartment backing onto the city walls

Days are spent wandering through the old medina with its souks, ornate architecture - and what appears to be millions of cats! Having been here a few times already, there is not a lot new to see - but my eyes are drawn to the beautiful coloured material that hangs so dramatically outside the shops - reds, oranges and yellows, blue and silver, greens and purples, and all manner of combinations thereof. Ever since I first visited Marrakech I've taken a shine to the red and orange material but have never allowed myself to be drawn into the haggling process required before purchase. Essaouira is more laid-back, however, and there is even a fixed price attached to some of the materials. So now, I decide, it's time to strike whilst I at least have a guide price. Fifteen minutes later I leave the shop armed not only with the piece of material I've wanted for ages, but with another I've also had my eye on - and all for a very reasonable price, having successfully bartered. Now I just have to decide what to do with them when I get them home!

An abundance of colourful materials

I have described Essaouira before in a previous blog, so I won't go into detail again about the fortifications and life in the city. My focus this time is the beautiful 6-mile long beach that stretches from the working port of Essaouira all the way to the small town of Diabat. Those of you who read my last blog on Essaouira will recall that my hubby had a severe bout of food poisoning so we had to return to Tahannaout earlier than expected, hence missing out on a beach walk. Well this time we make up for it!

Laden down with beach towels, flip flops, suncream and bottles of water we set off for the beach. It is wonderful to feel the warmth of the golden sand as it trickles between our toes, alternating with the sheer iciness of the sea as we paddle through the gentle waves that caress the sand. There are not many people at the beach today - we soon realise why that is - the wind starts to pick up and before long we are being driven by blasts of sand towards our destination. No sooner has the strength of the wind picked up than it falls again, reintroducing calmness to the scene. This pattern continues, causing us much amusement as we battle with our beach towels - We WILL sit down on the beach! The wind has other ideas though - and finally it wins. Who needs exfoliation spa treatments when the sand does such a good job?

We could be on any beach really, but when we look around us we definitely know we are in Morocco...there are no 'beach babes' in skimpy bikinis, no 'hunks' in tiny speedos...just Moroccan families on a day out at the coast. They are fully clad in floor-length djellabas, pulled up slightly so they don't get wet when wading into the sea, accompanied by their husbands who wear jeans and T-shirts, occasionally minus the T-shirt - how shocking! The children are in cute bathing costumes, splashing about as only kids can. It is lovely to see families out together, enjoying each other's company. Young men enjoy an impromptu barbecue on the sand, camel rides are offered, kite surfers and wind surfers vie with each other to take on the large waves, teenagers play with an old battered football. So few people yet so much life is to be seen here.

Barbie on the beach

Sandblasted

Kite surfers

Beautiful horse and rider

It seems no scene is complete in Morocco unless a film crew turn up - and sure enough we are not disappointed. This time the crew are from Germany and as we watch they set up all their equipment in the sand and film some boys playing football and men galloping in the sea on their horses as well as the camels lolloping along the beach. Obviously all this has been pre-organised, and even the police join us on horseback to watch the drama unfold.

Film crew

Camel ride anyone?

Filming starts

I mentioned before that cats are everywhere. Here are some of the cuties I encounter around Essaouira!

Asleep on a flour sack

What's in there?

Oy, wake up!

Amongst the fishing nets

These traditional Berber rugs ain't 'arf comfy!

Please give me food....

On our last day we decide to drive to Sidi Kaouki, about 25 minutes down the road from Essaouira. This town, if you can call it that, is named after a 19th century  marabout, a wandering holy man or teacher whose dilapidated shrine overlooking the sea still draws many pilgrims to the area. When we arrive the beach is deserted except for a few men on camels and a few locals who brave the winds to lie on the beach, albeit under the shelter of bamboo umbrellas. If we thought Essaouira was windy, we are about to experience something on a different level altogether! As we walk along the beautiful sandy beach, it feels like a gale suddenly comes from nowhere behind us and we are almost lifted off our feet and flung along the beach. The wind is full of sand that it lifts up as it heads towards us and whips the backs of our heads, our legs and ankles...we can just about make out each other's words as we encourage each other to head back to the safety of our car. Maybe we've come at the wrong time of year....I'm sure this place is wonderfully wild when the wind dies down...but not today unfortunately.

Shrine to Sidi Kaouki

Camels on the deserted beach

The calm before the storm...

All in all we've had a lovely weekend away in Essaouira...now it's time to once again face the boiling temperatures of Marrakech. Au revoir la plage...à bientôt...

Fry-Day

It is a boiling hot day when we set off towards the Kasbah du Toubkal; it's now 3.30pm and the temperature is 32 degrees - cooler than the 35 degrees it was early afternoon! We wend our way through the zig-zagging mountain roads, air con blowing nicely into my face and cooling my feet. Soon we arrive in Imlil, the village where we park up and prepare for the 20 minute hike up to the Kasbah. It probably should take 15 mins but us old'uns who are slightly unfit need to stop frequently! The locals, on the other hand, are like gazelles as they run up and down the path. Oh to be fit! The mule takes our overnight bag and we follow at a distance. Up and up we go, past the shops, past the 'Hello, my friend' shouted from doorways and 'remember me?' Then we face the killer 'steps' and the final push to the Kasbah. We are greeted warmly as usual by the team there with rosewater sprinkled on our hands and faces and dates dipped in milk to give energy - at least, that's what the Berbers say! Our friend, Lahcen, shows us to our room and invites us to have coffee on the roof terrace. He needn't ask twice. As I've said before, this is my most favourite place to visit in Morocco. Stunning mountain views, a beautiful rustic hotel, great hospitality, fabulous food...and about 8 degrees cooler than Tahannaout. What is there not to like?!

View towards Mount Toubkal from one of the Kasbah terraces

I can see for miles and miles...

After a wash and freshen up it's time for dinner. Mart's boss is here, Mike, and he's told us we're having dinner in the salon with a few other people he wants us to meet. There's Bonnie, an American photographer, with her husband, Woody, closely followed by Jon, a film producer, and a cameraman whose name I didn't quite catch. It turns out that there is part of a film being shot at the Kasbah the very next day and the producer and cameraman are sitting having dinner with us at this very moment - wow, we're in the presence of royalty ;-) As we talk, it transpires that this very same cameraman is the one who recently shot the new advert for TV where the girl is on holiday in Marrakech and runs out of money so she phones home to ask her dad for a bank top-up and obviously Nat West provides. Funny, we've just been watching that advert the other day and recognised some of the Marrakech landmarks we frequent including the Hotel Toulousain. Small world! Jon, the film producer, regales us with tales of past filming and informs us that they are shooting part of a new film tomorrow based on an Ian Rankin novel called 'Doors Open'....and one of the stars of the film is none other than STEPHEN FRY...who at this very moment is in Marrakech and will be filming at the Kasbah tomorrow! Gob-smacked isn't the word! The first thought that enters my head is...how on earth is he going to get up that hill?! My second thought is...how can I camouflage myself in order to get secret photos of him?

A good night's sleep ensues followed by a delicious breakfast of home-made yoghurt, omelette, crusty bread, fresh orange juice and copious cups of coffee. Mart is having business meetings this morning with Mike and Bonnie, so Woody and I make ourselves scarce, cameras in hand, to try and catch a shot of the star himself at some point. I have to explain to Woody who Stephen is...he mustn't be that big in America then!

By 11am Woody has all but given up and borrows a laptop from Reception to check his emails. But I don't give up that easily! I have now stationed myself in the turret, ready for the action to begin. Surely from up here I won't miss a bloke who is 6 foot 3 inches in height and surrounded by a camera crew. Right on cue they arrive. I can see the film producer and cameraman from last night greeting some other men at the end of the path; they all have various bits of equipment strapped to them. That must've been a tough climb for them in this heat. But there's no sign of Stephen Fry. Slowly the men begin to haul a large white screen until it stands upright; ropes are attached to it on each side and the men work together to haul it into position, one of them even clambering onto a low roof to help. It must be something to do with getting the lighting right, I figure. My camera is poised and I click away discretely, hoping that soon I'll see the man himself. How odd to think that Steven Fry is in this very place that I have grown to love over the years - and is in fact the place Mart works for...and that we're here at the same time as him. Indeed he is now filming in one of the rooms Mart and I have stayed in before. At last the time has come...filming of that particular piece is over...and Stephen appears from beyond the screen. He is looking very dapper in a beige linen suit with a scarf draped over his shoulder, much like the ones I've seen in the Marrakech Souk. He does look a tad hot and bothered though - who can blame him?!...And as I snap away, he seems to look up and catch me. Oops, hope he doesn't mind.

The screen is hauled up

The producer, cameraman and some of the entourage

The elegant Mr. Fry

The turret aka my secret paparazzi spot

Have I been caught?

Soon the fuss is all over and the crew have headed back down the hill to finish filming in the village of Imlil. Must watch out for the film now....27th August 2012 is the launch date...I'll be watching....

Snakes alive...

Aargh....three more snakes have been spotted! One by Said outside his house, one by a man who was helping to dig up the crops growing in the garden and accidentally scythed it to pieces...and a third by me as it popped its head out of the shrubbery just outside the window. Said reckons they are looking for water as it has been so hot here this past week, hence he has filled the fountain...yeah, let's have a party and invite them all to ours, duh! Just another of his strange foibles...maybe I haven't mentioned this before, but he sure does some seemingly eccentric things. One of them is to hose down the patio practically every day just so it looks nice for us. Now it's not exactly a small patio...and actually we quite like to sit out there on deckchairs for work breaks during the day, but often we end up being surrounded by water which we have to wade through to get back to the house. Added to this is the fact that he doesn't ever seem to water the plants in the garden..but skirts around these to get to the patio areas....We haven't the heart to suggest that maybe the plants need water more than the patio....Maybe the water has brought the snakes out to play...now there's a thought!

Ugh, snake alert! We heard a squawking sound outside last night and when we went to investigate we saw, camouflaged in the shrubbery, a long snake squeezing the life out of a tiny sparrow...poor thing. Glad the temperatures have finally cooled down, so hopefully if they're reading this THE SNAKES WILL FLEE...pretty please!

IF YOU ARE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION, PLEASE DO NOT LOOK AT THE PHOTO!

Poor sparrow

Talking of eccentric behaviour, whilst we were in the UK the plumber (remember him from the underfloor heating saga?) has been around and replaced the kitchen mixer tap. Pity he has put it in upside down and in such a way that we now cannot open the kitchen window! Who needs to be able to look out at the beautiful peach trees outside whilst washing up anyway?!

As I write, Said is cooking a tagine for himself in our kitchen - with rabbits he has just bought from the market. The poor things have just been killed and skinned and he's now hung them on a hook in our kitchen to dry out whilst he prepares the other ingredients and spices. I hope he doesn't expect us to eat the tagine too!

Rabbit hung out to dry

Poor lickul bunnies :(

I've just been a big brave girl, hanging the washing out on the line all on my lonesome. No mean feat, you may think, but in order to get that far I've had to walk through shrubbery into a remote laundry room full of rubbish, then take the washing out into the garden, walking through very long grass (I've told Said to get a goat so it will keep the grass down - but he prefers a camel, probably so he can use it to entice people to take camel treks locally and make some money out of it. A goat doesn't quite have so many uses!) And where do snakes live? In shrubbery and long grass! What a brave girl am I!

First week back

It has been a fairly uneventful week here in Morocco as we begin to settle in once again to our home. However, it is good to be back after just 5 weeks and to see the changes in the surrounding nature as well as to experience once again the lifestyle that beckons here. Wherever you look, there is greenery; the trees are laden with leaves, the fields are a vivid green (instead of parched as they were when we left in March), the crops are growing nicely and all around are signs of fertility. Whilst we endured 3 weeks of rain in the UK, Morocco's prayers for rain were answered and they too had torrential downpours, much to the farmers' delight! Now they will be able to earn a living from their abundant crops.

The sun is hot - an understatement! This past week we have experienced Moroccan summer temperatures, between 38 and 40 degrees centigrade/100 and 104 degrees fahrenheit. Locals say this is unseasonable weather - let's just hope the summer temperatures don't rise in proportion! Fortunately, we have bought 2 floor-standing fans which at least give us some refreshment with their recycled warm air...and in the evenings we sit on the deckchairs on the patio admiring the starry night sky, bats flying all around us, with the occasional glass of Domaine de Sahari gris in hand...well, it's got to be done, just too hot to sit indoors!

Mother and son come inside to escape the intense heat

On Tuesday Said went to the market and brought us back some eggs - white ones, said to be the best eggs you can buy. They didn't arrive in a little cardboard box though as we would purchase them in the UK, these arrived in a small sack nestling on a bed of straw, which only served to add to their appeal. And indeed they taste as good as described!

Beautifully displayed white eggs

Sitting reading my book on the patio on Thursday (as you do), I suddenly heard a great thud. So did the dogs. I hurried towards where the sound came from, dogs at my heels, only to find a large bird had banged into one of the glass windows and had bounced off, landing in the grass stunned. Chunky saw him at the same time as me and was keen to 'play' with this new object that dared to be in his garden. Fending him off, we allowed the bird some space to recuperate in the hope that it would just fly off...but half an hour later it was still there. Scooping it up in our hands gave the bird the shock/momentum it needed to get off the ground...and soon it was flying and landing in the nearest tree. Then it began to sing...and we realised that it is the cuckoo who has been charming us with its song over the last few days. Now it is singing to us again.

Found a lovely restaurant during the week called 'le jardin'. The clue is in the name - this is a restaurant located in the beautiful leafy garden of a seventeenth century house, which itself is located in the heart of the working medina.  There are patios and private terraces where one can enjoy a meal overlooked only by huge shrubs and trees - and, joy of joys, escape the heat of the medina of Marrakech. And I can certainly recommend the salmon and spinach tart - beautiful!

Sunday morning we got up early to go to church in Marrakech as per usual, but this was to be no usual Sunday morning. Mart had his shower and whilst I had mine he took his towel into the courtyard to dry it in the sun on the airer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement in the fountain which had long since been switched off. As he watched, a snake, at least 2 metres in length, slithered out of the fountain and hid behind the nearest plant pot. His day was made - ever since we got here he has wanted to see more wildlife, especially snakes and scorpions (yuk!) so now he proceeded to tear the plant apart to get a closer look. The snake dipped and dived but realised it had to get away from this madman who was chasing it with camera poised, so off it slithered...towards our bedroom door! Mart knew it was more than his life is worth to allow the snake into our bedroom when I am just stepping out of the shower...'Time to call Said,' he thought...very wisely! Said turned up, terror on his face, 'It's okay, Mr Martin, I will kill it' he shouted, whilst retreating. I had no idea what was going on, trying to dress myself hurriedly in the bedroom with all this commotion going on outside the door. After much banging, shouting, scurrying and splashing of water, Martin emerged to tell me the snake was dead. Said had kindly asked if Mrs Kathy wanted to see the slaughtered snake..er, I think not, thank you very much!

The slithering snake

NB: Dreams/nightmares since then of snakes in my bedroom have been very vivid and the slightest noise wakes me up...shudder, shudder....

Back in Tahannaout again

Having endured five weeks of rain most days in the UK it is a delight to return to sunny Tahannaout. On arrival at the house that we rent we are greeted by Said, the 'guardien', like long-lost buddies. He is eager to show us the crops growing in the garden, the hedge he has cut down so we can have a better view of the mountains, and introduce us once again to the freshly-cleaned house, all ready for us to make our home again for another three months. We are touched by his kindness and thoughtfulness.

Mr Dog, Mrs Dog and Chunky (the male pup who is now so grown-up!) run to greet us excitedly. Sadly, the other three pups have all died during the course of the last two months - most likely from eating poison put down by a local farmer protecting his sheep. Such a trauma for a dog-lover like me, but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. RIP Tanny, Blackie and Stripe :-(  Mrs Dog is now heavily pregnant again, so let's hope these pups fare better! Will keep you all posted.

A heavily pregnant Mrs Dog getting her beauty sleep

Today we wake up to this stunning view of the mountains as seen from our lounge. As I begin to iron our clothes I wonder 'Is this the most amazing view ever seen from behind an ironing board?'

Old Tahannaout

A minor hissy fit ensues this morning when I discover a reasonably-sized gecko hiding in the bathroom who decides to make a sudden appearance as I emerge from the shower. Momentarily I had forgotten about the beautiful wildlife around here. Hubby to the rescue - quickly!

For lunch we walk up to N'zaha cafe/restaurant situated on the main road at the end of our piste. En route we bump into our friend, Sadik, who again greets us with affection. He invites us to look around his garden; it is a treasure trove of greenery, full of olive trees, pomegranate trees, fig trees and peach trees, all vying with each other to be the tallest. Sadik is excited today - a young man is installing electricity in his house for the first time - Sadik has lived here alone for 20 years without electricity, the young man informs me. It is difficult to comprehend this level of poverty just along the piste from where we are staying in comparative luxury! Yet Sadik states he is happy...we could all learn a few lessons here I think.

For lunch we have chicken kebabs with chips and the local speciality of Tafarnout bread dipped in argan oil, washed down with ice cold water. This bread is delicious; it is cooked on charcoal - and we sure know that today because it still has some charcoal in it :D. An hour later we return from lunch, armed with a massive carrier bag of leftovers for the dogs, given to us by a waiter we've never met before at N'zaha - such is the generosity of the people here.

Tafarnout bread with argan oil - and charcoal!

I'm looking forward to having more to tell you over the coming weeks - not just about the amazing places we will be visiting but also about 'the small stuff' that happens every day and makes our stay here such a wonderful experience as it impacts our lives. So come back and join us on our adventures.....and please comment if something in particular strikes you or you just want to say 'Hello'. Would love to hear from you :D

The Sahara desert: Day 5: Erg Chigaga to Ouarzazate

It's the final morning of our stay in this magical place. After a leisurely breakfast we pack our belongings and venture out of our tent to say goodbye to Bobo and the team with whom we've shared these past few wonderful days. To our utter amazement, whilst we have been packing one suitcase, the team have packed up most of the whole camp's belongings into one tent! Cushions, blankets, tables, chairs, lamps, rugs and numerous other items are piled high on top of each other, seemingly randomly...but knowing this team, there will be a method of organisation which we don't need to know. Bobo explains that there are no more visitors to the camp for a few days now after we leave, so everything must be packed away into one tent and a 'guardien' will stay at the camp and keep watch whilst everyone else goes home for a few days to see their families, mostly to the nearest town of M'Hamid just over 2 hours away by car...or 7 hours by camel (I know which method of transport I'd prefer!)

We too set off, waving goodbye to our new friends and our wonderful experience, Fath, at the wheel once again. He is taking us back via an alternative route, across the dry salt lake bed called Lake Iriqi. This route was often featured in the Paris-Dakar Rally...and today it certainly feels like we are in a race as we speed over the flat barren land which once was a lake but is now made up of seemingly endless salt flats. It stretches for miles and miles ahead of us as far as the eye can see. This really is like a wilderness...the odd tree, bush, camel, signpost for a school - uh? And then a cafe/bar - in the middle of nowhere?

A school?

A cafe/bar?

As we speed across this barren land, stopping now and again to just gaze at the vastness of this space, we see what looks like the ocean ahead of us - but that's not right, this is the desert! It is a mirage, the light is playing with our eyes! As we come nearer to the 'water' nothing seems to change - but somehow we never quite reach it

Our car in barren land

Is that the sea?

Beautiful Acacia trees

Eventually, land is in sight...we have left the beauty of the desert behind us and in front of us lies the long route back through numerous villages to reach our overnight destination, Ouarzazate, and the same lovely Kasbah we stayed in on our way here, Kasbah Ellouze.

Civilisation again

As we draw near to Foum Zguid and our stopping off cafe, funnily enough also called Erg Chigaga, we can hear a loud whistling sound. On closer inspection, a large 4 inch bolt has punctured our back tyre - thank goodness that didn't happen in the desert, miles from anywhere! As we sip freshly squeezed orange juice and then coffee, awaiting a fictitious mechanic who never turns up, a young lad passes by on his bike and stops to help. Between them, Fath, Mart and this lad take the wheel off and unlock the spare tyre from its casing - to our utter disgust it is flat! So now what? A small village, no mechanic and 2 flat tyres! The lad promptly hitches the flat wheel onto his bike and peddles off into the distance to get some air put into it for us - he doesn't even need to be asked. Whilst we wait for the return of the lad with our tyre - he will come back, won't he? - we take a look at the badges displayed on the cafe door, each one being left by a different car tour group that has also used this place as a stop-off. They come from all over the world.

Our flat tyre

Fed up of waiting now

Nearly ready to go

Freshly squeezed orange juice

Our cafe

Badges from all over the world adorn the cafe door

A few coffees later and the lad returns with a blown-up tyre which he insists on fitting back onto the car. The kindness of the Moroccan people is in evidence yet again. A small gift of a few dirhams and we're on our way again and en route to the next town where we hope to have the spare tyre mended - just in case.

Indeed, another coffee at yet another cafe in the next town whilst our spare tyre is being mended, and 40 dirhams later (£3.20) and we're off again. Eat your heart out, Kwik-Fit!

We have arranged to take Fath all the way to Ouarzazate with us so he can catch a bus back to M'hamid from there, a journey of about 4 hours - otherwise he will have to wait a good while till someone passing through can take him back. We learn on the journey that he is actually a touring musician with a band and is going on tour to County Sligo in Ireland amongst other places next year - funny to think that this traditional man of the desert is soon to be visiting Europe in all its modernity. Wonder what he will make of it....

As we are driving along, I notice that Fath seems to be changing his clothes in the back seat - I turn around and much to my surprise he is no longer wearing the traditional blue and yellow djellaba with headdress, but rather jeans and a sweatshirt - and he has dreadlocks hanging beneath a Bob Marley style hat. I'm about to say something to him when I realise we've been pulled over by the police - Oh no, this could take a while! Fath is led to the other side of the road whilst we are questioned by an arrogant policeman about our connections with him and why he is in our car. We answer honestly that he is our driver from the desert and I look over in Fath's direction as the same policeman struts over to him, no doubt to ask the same question. Poor Fath looks very uncomfortable. It's about 15 minutes before we are on our way again, the policeman having checked all Fath's papers, and finally being satisfied that he is who he says he is.

A couple of hours later, having negotiated mountain roads and villages, we arrive on familiar territory, Ouarzazate. We are still a little way off when I notice out of the corner of my eye something unusual at the side of the road - it's a petrol station that somehow looks old-fashioned. We slow down to take another look...and realise it must be a film set. Sure enough, this is the petrol station from the film 'The Hills have Eyes' (2006). It is now abandoned but all the props are still there as well as that notorious signpost 'Gas Haven - Last Stop 200 Miles'.

The Hills have Eyes

We are now at the junction of two main roads - this is where we say goodbye to our new friend, Fath. It is with a heavy heart that we wave him off as we continue our journey. We hope to see him again one day insha'Allah. Not much further and we arrive back at Kasbah Ellouze, now familiar to us from our previous stay. We are feeling sad but happy - sad to have said goodbye to the desert and our new friends but happy to have many fond memories of our time there. Now we look forward to a good night's sleep and tomorrow's exploration of this area of Morocco. Sweet dreamzzzzzzzzzz........