Marrakesh,
Wow, having ridden down a very normal motorway, that, as I’ve been saying, is everything you’d see in Europe and better, just didn't prepare me for Marrakesh. The change is stark to say the least.
Rabat, had been akin, to Tangiers, a modern city in North Africa, very orderly and organised. There were police and army all over the place, so the rules were enforced and followed. Not so Marrakesh, it appears to be “we know what we’re doing, so leave us alone, and this seems to work. For instance, there are a host of small motorbikes and mopeds, most are single seats, but all are carrying passenger. There appears to be some kind of helmet law for the rider, but not for the passengers. So you see the rider with a kind of lid, note I say lid and not helmet, on their head, but none of the passengers are wearing one. Going back to the “lid” they are just that. Most are a German helmet type of thing, that are not strapped down in anyway. It’s crazy, imagine, I rock up there with all my fine riding gear on, as if I'd just stepped off The Long Way Down set, (that’s what it was). I look across and there’s a family of four on a single seated moped! The thing is, they looked perfectly safe, this was no, fag smoking, over tattooed, cursing parents, these held the two children with love and care, this was their transport and clearly what they use every day.
Once I’d booked into the Riad, I’ve decided to go native, and my budgets gone to pot, over spending, on too many 4 star hotels. I got a taxi to Jamaa El Fna Square, (I know, what I saved on the hotel I spent on taxis), nothing prepares you for this, its alive, there are thousands of people, there are all sorts going on ad-lib, from snake charmers to Moroccan folk music. There are food stalls like they’re going out of fashion, hawkers, fruit stalls, trainer stalls, you name its there. The only thing I didn’t see was alcohol, and there’s the thing, everyone is having a great time without it. (I must try this one day) There are families, lovers, friends all out on Friday night having a great time. People are in little groups around a small bands of maybe two or three drummers and a guitarist, and all are singing what must be old folk songs, for everyone seems to know the words.
I have a pot of snails and get talking to three Irish women, I’m safe this time, there’s no alcohol, remember. I then move on to some fantastic freshly squeezed orange juice. Then I see a place were half of Marrakesh are eating, with their hands, and I join in, the food is great, but I do wonder if I’ll pay for it tomorrow, but no, I was ok. At around 1:30, I get a taxi back to the Riad.
Unfortunately my exhaust decided to blow itself apart again, so Saturday is spent getting it fixed again. I've never seen this happen before, it seems to be blowing the end cap away then ripping the sidewall apart with what is still attached. Anyway one of the workers at the Riad, takes me to a workshop not far away. Hassan Salim, the proprietor, who is an Endro enthusiast, with a lovely old African Twin, parked in the back of his workshop, can get it sorted. A little later a mate of his turns up who rides a Vaderrado, and speaks English, he tells me they are members of the Moroc Enduro club and they ride down to places like Senegal. He thinks I'm a little crazy riding the desert on my own, but gives me advice on how to stay safe. I also have to keep things in context. When I speak to most people in the South East of England, they know little or nothing of Scotland, which is closer to London than the desert is to Marrakesh. So I won't start worrying until I meet a Berber that tells me I'm mad.
I go back to the workshop just after 2pm as instructed, Hassan is not there but I work out from the young man working on his bike, that he won't be long. 20 minutes or so later Hassan arrive on his little scooter, with my silencer, that is now wearing a brand new skin, tomorrow I can head south.
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