Morocco IV – Joining the tour

The girls in their local garb

The girls in their local garb

I checked into the hotel in Marrakech alone, very excited about meeting the girls and couldn’t wait for them to join me in our room. They surprised me in the evening by knocking on the door dressed in full-length hooded woollen djellabas. It took me a few minutes to recover. They’d sensibly bought them in Fez to deal with the cold there and had decided the men’s version suited them better, but didn’t hear the end of it from locals. Every half an hour you could hear them explaining to someone, “yes, we know they are the men’s ones…”

We met our fellow group members – there were nearly thirty of us which was a surprise from the advertised 14. There were quite a few whingers early on but the tour guide, Merwane, did a great job at trying to please everyone.

I shopped at the supermarket for dinner: bread and used the internet cafe as long as I could stand its stink of urine. Then we got our fix of BBC World and discovered there’d been a bombing at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai.

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