Departure set for the middle of the day. I leave the hotel while everybody's still asleep to go check out the small harbor. Except for the street sweepers, the streets are very quite. The town is alive until quite late every night, and businesses don't open until 10 or 11 am. Well, at least according to the signs...
After breakfast, shopping, shopping, shopping. Potteries, camels, in wood, in leather, lamps made of goat skins, ... And two tagines. Won't be easy to fit all that in the luggage, but it's oh so tempting. I take pictures of some of the goodies I cannot buy.
Noon, Abdel picks us up at the hotel for the trip back to Marrakesh. I will come back to Essaouira, it's a special town. Loved it.
Three hours of road with a small stop to visit a women cooperative which makes oil from argan almonds. Very interesting, but here as well, no doubt, moroccan women have mastered the art of selling everything and anything, especially things we don't need.
Back to the hotel Caspian in Marrakesh. We're all enjoying the pool while sipping on fresh drinks. Feet only, though, as I don't think it would be welcome to dive in. We're meeting Abdel later for dinner by ####, in a very nice, fancy restaurant set on the top of a big house, with a fantastic view of the city in the sunset.
As we're nibbling on apetizers, I tried to find a picture on my camera and something goes horribly wrong: my memory card gets erased and I cannot see any of my pictures anymore. Arghhhhh. I could scream. All the pictures of the trip, plus a few taken of my family in Switzerland. I immediately lock the card with the hope that maybe something can be recovered once home.
After dinner, we head for the ###, with all its booths on wheels, and the souks. Not quite the same atmosphere as in Essaouira. Here, it's constant solliciting, aggressive haggling, and, surprise, no one never has change when you buy something. It quickly becomes annoying. As I walking toward a both with nicely displayed spices, someone grabs my left hand and starts applying henna on it. Not that I don't like henna, to the contrary, but the method is disputable. I keep taking pictures while the girl draws line on my hand. Once she's done, she sprinkles her work with sparkly powder, for good luck (I shall be married in the year... Must not have seen my wedding band on that same hand...), and requests to be payed a ridiculous amount. I stand firm but still end up paying a little something (a fraction of what she wanted, though).
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