On our second day in Marrakech, we met a Dutch/American couple, Katja and Jason, on the roofdeck of our riad. It was Michael's Cambodian T-shirt that sparked a conversation between us. We ended up yapping it up, going to dinner, sharing countless bottles of wine...one thing led to another and bam we're sharing a cab to Essouaira on the coast and an apartment once we get there. We've met many people since arriving in Africa, it's good to have some company, exchange stories, make promises to meet up again some day. We also met an older couple at the riad, Mary and Dig, who operate a treeking company in Jordan. Dig showed us tons of photos on his laptop and perked our interest in Jordan and of course, Petra. We threatened to visit next year (who wants in?).
The little town of Essouaira is charming beyond belief - it was what we'd hoped Marrakesh would be. But after a couple of days, Marrakesh began to feel like a big congested city and Essouaira was exactly what we were looking for. Its signature color is a cobalt blue — every door, window frame, balcony and trim is painted blue. It has the laid back feel of any beach town, a nice change from Marrakech. Our apartment was inside the walls of the medina, far less ancient in feel than the one in Marrakech. We had an amazing roofdeck that overlooked practically half the medina and the tumultuous ocean, a great (but often windy) place to glaze over with a bottle of wine. Still rather in love with the tagines (a conical cookware made of clay used to make the traditional Moroccan stews like Chicken with preserved lemons and olives for example - our favorite) , we ate those nearly every meal until we were quite sick of it by the time we left Morocco. The only time we didn't have a tagine was when we found a charming little curio shop and cafe in the Mellah (the Jewsih Quarter) owned by a jovial, overly tanned Southern French gentlemen who offered us the most delectible morsels.
The highlights of our 2 day visit to Essouaira were for Mike a meticulous and incredibly close shave
and for Katja and Val, a visit to a traditional Hammam, a local bathhouse. Hammams are still a common practice, strictly separated by gender, it's a place where Mohameds and Fatimahs go to bathe, exchange the latest gossip, and make use of the plentiful scalding hot water. Khadijah, an employee of the owner of the apartment we had rented was appointed to show us to the hammam. We didn't understand at first that she wasn't just going to show us, she was also going to bathe us. We followed Khadijah like obedient sheep down the narrow alleyway and through a small unmarked doorway not far from the apartment. We would have never found this place by ourselves, let alone what to do once we go there. We were really glad to have Khadijah there! The inside was rather simple and unattractive, one giant tiled bathroom. One OLD giant tiled bathroom. The next hour and a half was a truly divine experience. Will spare you the details here but will gladly share in person over some vino, but Katja and Val were given the scrubdown of their lives. Katja's tatoo managed to stay on but Val's henna one was completely obliterated. Aside from the sandpaper rubdown, the bath itself was heavenly. It was almost ritualistic, the systematic filling of hot and cold water in precisely seven buckets. We recognized the emollient olive soap we´d seen in the souks that melted into a deliciously fresh lather on the skin. We were like two giggling four year olds sitting on the floor being bathed by their nanny. Highly recommended!
For photos of Essouaira, go to:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31967627@N00/sets/72157594423286524/
