Morocco - Day 1 - Marrakesh

The flight arrived 30 minutes early, and as I walked towards the terminal building I realized that I wasn't just in another country – but a different continent.

As everything had been so last minute - I'd not managed to book any accommodation and so hadn't filled in the "address in Morocco" part of the customs form. This seemed to cause a real problem for the official - and I soon found myself stuck in one of those strange circular arguments that government officials (regardless of country) seem so adept at.

Him: "But you have not filled in an address – where are you staying tonight?".
Me: "Erm...well - I plan to find a hotel in Marrakesh".
Him: "But you have not filled in an address – where are you staying tonight?"
Me: "Well...I plan to find a hotel in Marrakesh".
Him: "But you have not filled in an address – where are you staying tonight?"

You get the idea.

This went on for about a minute until he decided to give up and go for help. Just as he was walking away I decided to try another approach and told him I was catching the train to Casablanca the next morning. This, for some reason, seemed to make all the difference, and a few minutes later I was on my way.

Getting into the center of Marrakesh was fairly simple – a line of taxis were charging extortionate amounts to ferry tourists to their destination.

Having decided to stay near the station, I asked to be dropped in the center of the new town, and within twenty minutes we were there. That ride was one of the most terrifying journeys I've ever made. The driver seemed intent on getting there and back as fast as he could, which meant driving on the wrong side of the road, swerving into the moving line of traffic, and taking every risk to speed the journey.

I held on (literally), with my foot hard down on the floor wishing that underneath it was more than just an imaginary brake.

But still - we got there and that's what counts.

After searching around for a while I managed to find a cheap room. It was a dump and had nothing to recommend it.

As I was planning on getting up at 5am the next day I decided to head out for food at the nearest place I could find, and happened upon a really great place called Cafe de la Poste - a French restaurant in what used to be the post office.

And the food was pretty good: onion tart and salad followed by grilled sardines.

And then it was back to the room for some sleep...