Touted Out, Essaouira to Sidi Kaouki Beach

Zagan the motorhome feels almost at home in Camp Sidi Kaouki Beach, about 20km south of Essaouria in Morocco (N31.35108, W9.794934). He’s parked against a 7 foot high wall topped off with not one but nine strands of barbed wire – reminding me a little of Stalag Luft III in his namesake town of Żagań in Poland. Why the stern defences? Dunno, they’re certainly not for keeping out the steady stream of floggers of stuff. Since arriving we’ve had honey, fish (times 3), vegetables and eggs, and a Berber jeweller who just wouldn’t bugger off. More will come, and I’m finding myself forced into hiding in the van, goooddaaammmittt!!! If you can’t tell, I’ve reached the ‘worn down’ point with Morocco’s tourist touts and sellers, especially after last night.

Camp Sidi Kaouki Beach

Picking up from the last post, we let our limbs and nerves recover from Marrakech with a couple of days stopover in the small transit town of Ounagha. When I say ‘transit town’, that’s Lonely Planet code for a dump. The town ran along the main road, with a single roundabout being the focus, and went back just a couple of streets. Men and dogs lay around in the sun on the first day, a few of them (the men, not the dogs) begged from us as we walked past. The last house in the town marked the edge of a rubbish dump. The pavement was a combination of broken concrete and dried mud. Donkeys stood forlorn tied to trees. Metal workers welded up rough gates in front of concrete workshops, their eyes protected only by cheap sunglasses. A child kicked a gas bottle down the street. On the second day it rained, creating a handy excuse to stay in the van. Phil nipped out in his Crocs, returning with a tale of brown, watery dung floating down the road. The place felt lacking in pretty much everything, but mainly hope, and I wasn’t sad to leave.

Ounagha

Ounagha

A short, easy drive down the road brought us to a small oasis of Europe, a Carrefour Market on the edge of Essaouira, and an almost-new one at that. €40 lighter, we emerged stacked with cheese, vegetables, spices, dairy products, a cooked chicken and plenty other stuff. Prices in there are roughly what you’d pay in Europe (that being a wide range in itself, but the point is it’s not cheap). Although the Marjane supermarket chain’s stopped the sale of alcohol here (it’s rumoured the chain was sold from French to local owners), you can still get your hands on the evil liquor in Carrefour. The cheapest lager came in at about €3 a litre, and the cheapest bottle of table wine was about the same price. Neither made it into our bags, as we’ve still a sizeable stash following a dry(ish) January.

Camels in a viewpoint overlooking Essaouira

An even shorter drive took us from there to one of the town’s three ‘guarded parking’ locations, this one right next to the Borj Bab Marrakech (N31.510871, W9.766425), up against the medina walls. For 40Dh (€4) a night, we were protected from thievery by a one-armed aged man sat on a three-legged plastic chair, the final leg created from a precarious stack of broken pieces of concrete. Why he insisted we only pay him at night was beyond me, as he had to wait around for us to return from eating out before he could go home. Nope, no ‘guarding’ is deemed necessary once darkness has fallen. That said, the parking area was the domain of a pack of small dogs, who provided a protection service of sorts by attacking and barking at passers-by throughout the evening and early morning. Can I recommend this guarded parking? Sure, if you’re a masochist (half joking).

In convoy with Big Ben into Essaouira

Guarded parking in Essaouira

Essaouira has the reputation of being a laid-back surfer place, all beach, traditional fishing port, Portuguese architecture and relaxed medina. Whether this is what you find when you arrive is likely dependant on luck, the weather, whether you’re stoned, and if you’ve gotten off the bus at the right place. Morocco gets about 10 million tourists a year and a fair few of us pour into towns like Essaouira loaded with hard currency and (in my case) a continuing, woeful lack of common sense. Most of the folks in town aren’t much fussed with us lot. They’re busy, while we’ve nothing much to do but wander about staring at things, taking photos and trying to look like we’re chilled out. In our wanderings about the old town we picked up some dates, caramelised nuts, rose oil and an aluminium tagine, without once feeling ripped off. Ju had another go at leather bag buying but the prices quoted, even after the mandatory, tiresome, haggle were still higher than Fes.

Essaouira medina

Grabbing a photo of the Atlantic

The spice souk, where you can get a cure for fatness, and natural female Viagra

An auction in the Essaouira medina

There were touts in the medina of course, but they were easy enough to deal with. The touts at the fish street food stalls near the port, on the other hand, were an obnoxious bunch. They seemed desperate to get our business, using all the usual hard-sell tactics, which go something like this:

1. Stand directly in the path of the rich muppet westerner.
2. Thrust a menu in his or her face, while pointing at your stall.
3. Shout questions at the muppet to work out which country they are from.
4. Once the country is ascertained, roll out set comedy phrases, “ave a butchers”, “arf price”, “rest of stalls are shit” etc.
5. If muppet makes an attempt to move past you, move to block their path, and feign complete surprise the muppet doesn’t want to eat in your stall. Pull your best ‘swallowed a wasp’ face. What could be wrong with this muppet?
6. If muppet finally makes it past you, wave arms in disgust and optionally let loose some minor insult.
7. If you see muppet walking back to their chosen stall, immediately forget the fact you abused them 180 seconds ago, and again demand they eat in your fine establishment.
8. Optional: only if there are no other muppets about to harass, observe your missed opportunity muppet in whichever stall he’s opted to sit in, and pull faces at him/her, while whirling finger against your head to show how stupid muppet is. Muppet may get angry at this point, in which case you have won. Well done.

That stuff was a bit annoying, as was the fact we couldn’t eat without a string of beggars, but the bloke who ran the place blew my lid, and all over €3. The tout (who’d been the least offensive, so we ate there) had told us we could all eat for 200 Dh (€20). The price went up to 320 Dh after they’d made us choose which fish we wanted to eat (it seems shellfish was not included in the 200 Dh deal even though it made up the majority of the display), which Phil negotiated down to 300 Dh. We ate, at one point having to tell a chap hammering away the banjo to sod off and only getting cutlery after two plates of fish were eaten with our hands. When I went to pay, the price was now 350 Dh. Boom. We’d offered 320 Dh, and handed over two 200 Dh notes, which the bloke now held onto and went into the ‘kitchen’ (best not to look) where he attempted to half hide while I point at him, backed up by Phil, and told him this wasn’t a good way for him to behave (yes, those were my words). After I’d repeated this a time or two, getting louder and redder, he smirked and reluctantly counted out our 80 Dh in change. Bast*rd.

Honest John (aka, The Bast*rd) telling Phil an honest(ish) price – if you ever visit the fish stalls in Essaouira, avoid stall number 10, or don’t say we didn’t warn you!

The fish was good, all cooked on charcoal. These are scampi and sardines

So. we’ve left Essaouira today, leaving Phil and Jules to give the place another chance. They’ve moved to the guarded parking just to the south of the town, which is behind a large dune and alongside the main road. Last intel we got was that the guardian there begs for ‘un cadeau’ from you (a present), after you’ve paid him, but apart from that the place looked good and much conducive to a decent night’s sleep.

We’re now sat in the sunshine, listening to the Atlantic hammering on the nearby beach. We’ve cooked a tagine (not bad, too much water added and spices need mixing with water rather than sprinkling on), and Ju’s got a couple of loads of washing done by the campsite, which is drying as I type. The forecast’s for several days of sun and 20-odd degrees highs. I’m uploading this on the campsite WiFi (very slow, but it works) and we’re hooked up to the leccy so we’ll be using zero gas. The plan is to relax here a few days, then head further south before, at some point, turning back inland and doing some landscape hunting in the Anti Atlas mountains and Drâa Valley. More photos from Essaouria below.

Fishermen madhandling a boat in the Essaouira port

Cats must love Essaouira, there are fish bits everywhere in the port

Camel, horse and 4×4 rides all available on Essaouira beach

The full length of the seafront is being renovated, and to a high standard too

Recommendation: don’t eat in any of these fish stalls, go find somewhere else in the medina

The Portuguese fort in Essaouira

Buying fish at the port? Bring a nose peg. Ideally squint a bit.

Pre-dawn Essaouira. Not that I usually get up before the sun, but the call to dawn prayer seemed to go off a bit early today

Men sat on the floor around the car park and played cards

Tagine purchasing!

Cheers, Jay