We had never been in Morocco during the month of March and we were surprised at the abundance of wild flowers growing in the desert and along the roadside. The colours became more vibrant as the spring progressed.
We spent a few days on the coast at Assilah making the most of the good weather before setting off for to Port Tanger Med where we would take the short ferry trip to Algeciras in Spain.
Our overall impression of Morocco remained the same as on previous visits. We found our hosts friendly and helpful, doing everything in their power to make us feel welcome and cared for. It was customary for Moroccans to welcome guests with a glass of mint tea and, as they got to know you a little more, they would invite you to their homes for a meal. The welcome we received gave us a warm feeling of being wanted, even cosseted and made us feel more important than we deserved. With very few exceptions, our daily intercourse was with the men folk; the women would smile and nod hello with their eyes slightly downcast.
Outside the big cities our expedition truck sparked a lot of attention – people waved and drivers sounded their horns giving a thumbs-up. Little children holding their mothers’ hands would shyly wave and older boys would occasionally lob a stone. At fuel stations the attendant would chat away happily as he served you – and would wave you a cheery goodbye as you drove away, as if you’d just paid him a social visit.
We also enjoyed our transitionary meetings with fellow travellers. If we spotted a UK licence plate we would try and say hello. Occasionally, on a warm evening, fellow travellers would come and sit with us and have a glass of beer or wine. When we moved on to the next destination, the memory of those we had met – and their back stories – would fade. If our paths crossed again we would usually recognise them by their vehicle and we would greet them like old friends. We were like social butterflies – constantly moving on to the next cabbage patch.
A lot of travellers we met had dogs with them. It seemed to us that, the smaller the vehicle the bigger or more numerous the dogs. We met several British middle-aged couples who had “sold up” and were travelling full time – one or two had adopted foreign puppies on their travels. A surprisingly large proportion of travellers were cigarette smokers, especially the younger Europeans.
We were sharing an evening beer with a French couple whom we had met several times over the years. They were telling us how expensive they were finding it to support their daughter who was studying European languages at university. The husband was saying he had learnt Spanish as a youth and his tuition had cost him absolutely nothing. Questioned further, he explained that he had been arrested for drug dealing and had spent three years in a Spanish jail! Sure enough, his Spanish was fluent.
In Morocco you didn’t mess with the authorities. Armed police were always present at major road junctions and Moroccan drivers were regularly stopped and their documents checked. As a foreign tourist we were usually gestured through on a wave. We regularly spotted roadside radar speed checks. If you were caught speeding, European or not, you were fined on the spot (about £30). Our truck was slow-moving enough to avoid that expense.
Camp sites were obliged to record visitors’ passport details and vehicle registration. We met an elderly German couple who told us they had mistakenly left a camp site without paying. About half an hour later they were stopped by the police. They explained to the police that it was a genuine mistake and, fortunately, they had a friend back in Germany who had a Moroccan bank account and was able to settle the account on their behalf. Otherwise the police would have escorted them back to the site to pay their bill. No messing!
