We pick up a car from the airport which will attract attention wherever we go. It is bright greeny yellow and by far the most sporty looking car I have ever travelled in. Despite requesting a modest sedan that would fit my guitar across the boot space, we are assured that this is a better car with more space. It seems that once we’ve squeezed ourselves in with our carpets, pouffes, teapots, ceramics and two large Moroccan lamps, there’s little room for us. The guitar will only fit in the front seat which means that Louie squeezes in there and I somehow manoeuvre my legs into the remaining space in the back. I sleep through much of the drive to Essaouira which is a miracle considering I have a small suitcase of plates and tiles on my lap and can’t feel my lower body. to Essaouira, partly from having been up half the night with Jasper and from the gurgling of my own stomach. Sleeping means that we’re not vomiting which is a plus.
Everyone sees us coming as we pull into the car park near the Medina. We ring Stephane who is our Airbnb host for the two nights we are here. He meets us and we pay a trolley man to take our stuff into the Medina as I’m too stuffed to carry anything.
Whilst Stephane who is French but a full time resident of Essaouira, is a lovely guy, we are very worn down by the increasingly erratic behaviour of our middle child and are not really in the best frame of mind to be sharing a living space. Keeping a family of five ‘under control’ in a room for nine months has become harder and harder and whilst people are understanding, some of the behaviours in the family have become a little accentuated and my own self doubt is starting to take over.
Essaouira has a thriving daily fish market and we head there at sunset.
There is is a putrid combination of sewage, stagnant water and fish guts and as a person who’s only just regained control of my stomach, perusing the fish market is a challenge.
There is every kind of fish imaginable, for sale and more seagulls than I’ve ever seen.
Essaouira grows on us very quickly. It is a relaxed friendly town where the Medina is easy to navigate and we let Louie run loose for a while. Stella and I enjoy looking in all the little shops and taking photos in the alleyways. Our number one priority is to send off Stella’s Te Reo exam from the post office. Whist we scanned the whole exam on the day she sat it, a hard copy is still required.
We make a wish for it’s safe delivery as we send it from the local post office.
The French influence is very strong in Essaouira, which means there are great crepe stalls. We begin another period of attempted weight gain for Louie, by sending him to the crepe store several times a day. There is very little that he will eat on this trip, and having witnessed us get sick quite recently, he has now added couscous and kofta to his list of food not to eat. That pretty much just leaves just crepes!
Last year when I was planning the trip, a house popped up on my Airbnb search, on the coast between Essaouira and Agadir. I had to look very hard on the google maps satellite to see the tiny speck in the middle of such a barren landscape. I decided that at some point in our trip we might really want to get away from it all.
Today is the day.
We are met about two hours south of Essaouira by a high school boy on a motorbike, who guides us along a road that should almost not be classed as a road. We haven’t received a huge amount of information about the house but in theory it has running water and a solar panel and is accessible by car.
The road out to the coast is frightening and spectacular in equal measure. We drive very slowly but at the last leg of the journey we all need to hop out so that Roger can floor it up a sand hill to the house.
We are relieved to find that there is a small settlement nearby, although it seems quite deserted.
Our school boy companion opens up the house, sets up the solar panel and checks the water is running. He doesn’t speak any English and we, very little French or Arabic and I give up asking about towels and sheets which were on the list of things provided. It seems that we will be camping out here and that is fine.
The place is crazy and beautiful. There is a fog coming in off the Atlantic and the surf is crashing below the house.
We get a small fire going and prepare a one pot wonder. The kids roast marshmallows and make as much noise as they want.
We decide to all sleep around the edges of the living room on the squab seating. There are some damp blankets and we make cosy beds.
Knowing that we would have an empty beach to ourselves, we had discussed doing some sand art. We wait for low tide then get to work.
Everything is going well until Roger puts a possessive apostrophe where there shouldn’t be one.
The water runs out during the day although there is still a dubious cloudy water supply coming out of a tap next to the toilet. It seems that the near empty plastic tank on the roof was the only water supply and from the state of the road, it is obvious that a refill will not be available. At least we still have food and the bottled water that we brought.
We make an agreement that if the water from the toilet tap runs out, we will leave. As the toilet is flushed with a bucket, we figure that this is a health and safety requirement. We can do without washing and we boil the toilet water thoroughly to wash the dishes, but things start getting messy very quickly.
The next day, Louie and I spend creating a giant mandala. Fondue skewers and a wooden spoon make great art tools and we decide that we should do this more often.
Our house
After a beautiful afternoon on the beach, Roger announces to the kids that he’d like to take a minute; this being the last time for a while that we will be completely on our own, to regroup if you will.
Roger: “kids, I’d like us all to spend a few minutes together and talk about our family
Stella: (with tears in her eyes) “Oh my god, are you pregnant mum”?
Me: silence …….. At what point on this trip, whilst sharing a room with three children and having aged about ten years in ten months, would it have been possible to conceive a baby Stella?”
Bless her
The next day we are heading back to Marrakech for a final night before flying out the next morning. We spend much of the journey scanning the Argan trees for goats, who like to stand on the branches.
In fact, goats in trees was a big motivation for coming to this particular coast as this is the main Argan oil production area in Morocco.
Back at Jemaa El-Fnaa in Marrakech, we avoid the food stalls and have a last meal at Cafe des Spices. Morocco has been a ethnic shoppers paradise and Stella and the boys are still keen for a bit of last minute negotiation. The square is very busy and full of local fortune tellers and acrobats with a captive local audience.
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