Also on the way back from Cascades de Ouzoud, our driver took us to an interesting rock formation in his village in the middle Atlas. Children swam in a river which ran under a massive red arch. The taxi driver was really proud when he told me I could walk all the way under and round to the top again, so I duly did and got pooped on by the nesting birds, it was impressive nonetheless. All this was at no extra cost (I think the unwitting generosity of the man in the front seat might have helped, though I didn't realise it at the time), which seems to be a rarity in Morocco and made it all the better.
The next morning I stood at the arrivals gate in Marrakech airport among a group of Moroccan drivers, holding a sign of my own. It had an unsavoury adjective on it which made a few of the English speakers giggle before Scott strolled through in a daze, I don't know whether it was the sign or my face which told him I was there for him, I think the sign. That night we decided to have a crash introduction to Marrakech before shooting off to the coast. After exploring the souq a bit, we smoked an aishisha pipe and hit the food stalls in the square, pretty cheap and tasty even if the waiters literally fight over you. Later we thought we'd to find a pub or club for a few beers, and so the odyssey began. We walked 2km to the new town only to find a 'Mexican' live music venue where a Moroccan singer sang Mexican songs in Arabic and salsa danced, we left confused at this spectacle and the of 5 Pound bottles of beer. Finding absolutely nowhere else resembling a bar we jumped into a taxi and asked to be taken to a club. The driver stopped to ask a policeman the best way to go and we agreed a price of 25 Dirhams. On arrival he demanded 100. We argued whilst edging sideways out of the taxi and the driver lowered his price to 30 over 10 minutes of pretty repetitive negotiation in French. Then we approached the entrance of the club. The 5 very bored looking attendants at the door were willing to make a 'special exception' and allow me to go in with my sandals on. We suspected this was because they wanted our money as there was nobody else in the place. So, not wanting to be the guys standing in an empty club on the outskirts of town we decided to walk back to the city centre and our Riad. At least we got a few photos of the Koutibia Mosque on the walk home. Marrakech had tired us out, we were definately ready to move on to Essaouira.
Our bus got a flat tire down half way to the Atlantic coast and all of the men on the bus got off to give an opinion on its repair. Finally in Essaouira, we found a nice riad with a view of the sea and this kitten outside so were obviously optimistic about our stay.
Later we even found an alcohol shop, named just that: alcohol shop, which meant we could have a few beers on our terrace during the sunset, with an unhappy seagul for company.
We found Essaouira lived up to its surf town reputation, or even exceeded it. The omnipresence of drugs and alcohol was far more obvious than I've grown to expect in a Muslim country and was a bit surprising. that being said it still was a really nice, relaxed town and we did experience some genuine hospitality, being invited for tea by some young guys we had got talking to about football (what else), which was great.
After two nights in Essaouira we rented scooters from a suitably dodgy wheeler dealer and headed south along the coast, intending to explore the beaches and camp on one of them. We found a great beach, went for a swim, and were then forced to camp there when both scooters wouldn't start up again. Undettered, we set up camp among the dunes and collected firewood in preparation for a great night. The pictures speak for themselves.
Next up was a bit of desert. We didn't quite realise how far away it was and ended up in the Sahara after 9 hours in a bus over the Atlas and then a 4 wheel drive. 
After a night camping in the moonlit desert we indulged in an afternoon by the pool in Ourzazate before heading back to Marrakech for our flights. We spent the night at the airport as we had arrived late. I don't think the guards approved so I had to prop myself up and sleep with my head down, closed eyes pointing at an open book on my lap, had them fooled I think. All in all a pretty good week, although more exploration of the Atlantic coast would have been good, maybe in September.
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