September 25 - 27, 2018 Agadir Morocco

Pictures for this blog coming a few days later when we get back to the laptop.

We arrived safe and sound into Agadir Marina around 4:45 P.M. as we nosed into the entrance a very rambunctious group of young men dove into the water racing to try to swim across our bow to the other side. We weren’t going for it. Frank idled Destiny until they got the hint and switched to dog-paddling in place about 10 feet from the front quarter. As soon as he started up again, they went for it for all they were worth, laughing and waving hello as they passed us to the outer jetty.

Frank had been hailing the marina for quite a while but getting no response so he decided just to enter knowing someone would come out to direct us. Sure enough, a young man appeared waving and pointing to a pontoon. He helped secure our docklines and told us to sit tight, Customs officials were coming soon. Before Frank could enjoy his first arrival beer two friendly officials arrived, first asking us if we had anything to declare; weapons, animals, drones. Drones cannot be brought into the country and will be confiscated but returned on your departure. This is the first that we have been asked that question. If you have no weapons they give you one...ha ha, just kidding. They did not board to inspect the boat, rather they took Frank to the office for check-in. They told me to stay onboard...Captain Only. It was so easy. They kept our passports for a few hours, probably checking to see if we voted Democrat or Republican, and meanwhile sent Frank back to the boat.

First impressions of Agadir: beautiful golden colored beach, clean marina surrounded by upscale shops and restaurants, modern, friendly people, very French, safe. The predominant languages are Moroccan Arabic and French. 

The landscape is very similar to Baja California, Turkey or Greece in that it is rocky and barren but interspersed with olive trees that thrive in this environment. Morocco is 99% Muslim. Many in Agadir are a bit more modern like those we see in America but then it seems the older women are the more traditionally dressed. We’ve only seen one wearing full burka with just eye slits. The restaurants and cafes within the well guarded marina complex do not serve alcohol. Our first night out, Frank tried to order a beer with dinner, and the waiter gushed, almost embarrassedly, “We do not serve alcohol it is against the law!” Everyone was drinking tea, Coke or water. We went with water. We were so exhausted that we could hardly stay awake to finish our tagine.

We slept so well and awoke ready to explore. We walked a fair bit to the CTM bus substation to purchase bus tickets to Marrakech and then headed for the Suq. It was another mile or so but being out walking was wonderful after being cooped up on the passage. While walking we strolled Ave. President Kennedy. That was unexpected. The Suq is the big market place not at all dissimilar to those in Turkey. We were in Heaven. The fresh foods, teas, olives, spices, nuts, baked goods were abundant. You can buy anything and everything here, including housewares, furniture, decor, clothing, linens and of course the local made crafts. We only purchased some snacks and nuts to take on the bus ride. This was mostly recon to compare prices here to the Marrakech market. After that adventure, we went to Moroc Telecom to purchase wifi and were really surprised to find that 1 Gigabyte only costs 10 Dirhams which is roughly $1. We splurged and bought 10 Gigs.

For dinner we walked over to a complex called the fish market where hawkers lure you into their “restaurant”, which is simply a long table lined with benches leading out from a small counter filled with a variety of seafood on ice. A man was behind the counter, but the hawkers did the work. First thing, Frank asked if he could get a beer. “Yes, we have beer!” was the eager response. They brought out some small loaves of flat bread and some diced up tomatoes and onion for us to begin and then showed us a large platter of fresh seafood from which we thought we were picking what we wanted to order. There were lobster, shrimp, 4 or 5 kinds of fish, calamari. We picked one lobster and one fish but they brought us the entire plate fully cooked of all the fish, 2 lobsters, the calamari and the shrimp. I think they sucker punched us. Of course there was no way we could eat it all and although we protested that we didn’t order the whole platter, they suddenly could no longer speak English shaking their heads, ignoring our pleas. Better to go along and not get arrested or something worse, so we smiled and thanked them as we tackled the mass. It sure was good and fresh, all grilled except a couple fried pieces. Frank eventually got his beer. It was very discreetly slipped to him in a small glass, completely wrapped in a paper napkin, obscuring the contents completely. Ok, now we know it can be done. We had no idea what we were spending and wondered if we had enough cash to cover it. The bill came to exactly 888 dh.

One aspect that we’ve noticed is conspicuously missing are the many mosques such as we saw in Turkey and Indonesia. We aren’t awakened by surround sound and competing mullahs announcing morning prayer, or the other 4 prayer times of the day. We heard the big mosque gearing up for the midday prayer while about walking but no one whipped out a rug or dropped to their knees. Perhaps because this is a seaside tourist city they are more relaxed and we will experience more of that in Marrakech. We shall see.

Right now we are on a very nice coach bus on the road to Marrakech. In my mind I’m thrown back to the song about the Marrakesh Express. But we’re not on a train. The landscape is exactly what we anticipated, dry and brown with occasional lush green areas of crops and tree farms that are irrigated. The roads are nice and well maintained. From time to time we spy a lone elongated, flat top dwelling and what we think are villages with walls. We just hit a large rest stop that serves delicious looking pastries and cooked meals. Everyone is piling out, headed for the counter. Low and behold there is a small Starbucks kiosk to where most of the women hastened.

More later after we get into the Marrakech groove.