Llywindatravels 2025

Along the coast

We’ve spent two days driving along the coast, first from Agadir to Essaouira, and then from Essaouira to Oualidia, our outpost for this week.

On the leg north from Agadir, we were surprised to see how much the landscape looked like versions of other places.

Black Mesa, AZ, moved to the edge of the Atlantic.

Northern California is an easier comparison.

We saw people surfing. A lighthouse

There are lots of coastal archaeological sites, too. Most are former living areas, with marine shell, pottery and stone tool fragments, and some walls of rock remaining. There’s a site in the foreground here, under our feet.

Beyond Essaouira, the argan trees disappear and the ground becomes rocky. Incredibly rocky. Walls of rock are constructed around fields, piles of rock (pirca) are built, and finally there is more rock in the fields than there is land. Sheep graze among the rocks, but planting looks impossible.

We reach the coast and down the hill we see the lagoon that is Oualidia.

We are here for a week. Aaaahhhhhh.

Essaouira, city of doors

We dodged a few raindrops and ducked into a restaurant for lunch just as it started to rain. We ended up on the third floor in a low-ceilinged room with several other groups of foreigners, French, Spanish and German. We had an especially nice chat with a German woman who was on a two week holiday (she chose Morocco because she wanted someplace close, and warm) while she is between jobs. On her return she moves from Frankfurt to Berlin. Her English was excellent (studied English Lit in college just because she likes it), as was her French.

There is lots of shopping in the medina here, and lots of old buildings.

Most of all, Essaouira has doors. Here are some of them.

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A hidden treasure in Essaouira

We arrived on the outskirts of Essaouira, fortunately with our phone GPS working. The surroundings are a bit intimidating.

There were ancient and modern hazards.

Fortunately, there were strategically posted signs.

We found the Domaine de l’Arganaraie, a delightful set of large houses around a common swimming pool and dining area, spacious and beautiful, a real oasis. We were able to have a fire in the fireplace both nights. This was our house–there was also a full kitchen and bathroom.

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We arrived late one day, had a delicious dinner (briouats, tagine, strawberries), built a fire in the fireplace and relaxed. We visited the Medina in Essaouira the next day and were very happy not to have to either go out OR cook in the evening. Fatima, the excellent cook produced squash soup, tagine of chicken, olives and potatos and a world class chocolate mousse. We sat by the fire again and didn’t regret the cool weather one bit. I was glad that it was pre-laid to start with just a match, too. The donkey cart towed our luggage back to the car when it was time to leave. Next time we’ll stay to have a swim.

A further note on Argan products

Cooperatives of woman formed to produce argan oil and related products can be found across southwest Morocco. On our drive from Agadir to Essaouira along the coast, we passed thousands of argan trees full of fruit, signs for cooperatives, and billboards referring to projects benefitting women. These all appear to be cooperatives to produce argan products. While cooperatives seem to help women, in the region we drove through there was no other visible employment of any kind. As we drove down the road, we passed stand after stand where vendors (men) held out bottles of argan oil and gestured to us. I subsequently read that many of these are probably adulterated products.

My conclusion is that women need assistance beyond forming a cooperative. Each cooperative needs to connect with markets outside the immediate area. There are a limited number of tourists who drive through this region, and roadside sales cannot help much economically. Once argan oil is produced, it has to reach markets where it has commercial value and can be sold as a fair trade product to ensure that some of the proceeds reach the producer communities. Otherwise, women’s cooperatives of argan oil may become a dead end, producing a luxury product that is stockpiled until it goes bad (rancid, becomes too old) or until there is so much unsold oil that the price collapses.

Buy fair trade argan oil–put it on everything.

Surprises at the end of the road

We arrived at Foum Assaka, the mouth of the Assaka River, to find a beach community under construction, not uncommon in Morocco. We threaded through the streets until the car could go no further, then parked in a pullout. This is the entrance to “Le Rayon Vert,” the Green Flash. I guess you can see it here as easily as in Key West.

If you visit with a group, you can stay in a Moroccan tent. 3.16.16sm We sat down to a delicious lunch of baked fish and vegetables. The eggplant were baked and the glazed with honey and spices. Delicious and in the middle of nowhere. The secret? Our friends called in advance.

This was not the only hidden surprise we visited in the Sidi Ifni area.

The next evening we had dinner at the “3-O” restaurant in Mirleft. After driving from Sidi Ifni in the dark, we stopped in front of a pharmacy, with its lurid fluorescent light washing out everything. We got out of the car and looked around, puzzled. Jean-Marie pointed to an alley, unlighted. Then we saw “3-O” painted on the wall, and an arrow. We walked down the alley in the dark to a door. Locked. It has a buzzer. It looks like we are being checked into prison. The door opens and we are in a gallery of contemporary Moroccan furniture. We walk between the rows of tables, mirrors, and sculpture to a doorway and we are then in, a nightclub. Really. Tables and chairs, mirrors, light fixtures, very chic decor. We continue along to a dining room where our table is ready. We meet our host, Didier, who runs the restaurant, the workshop, and the club. The feature of this restaurant, where we also called ahead, is oysters. These are straight from the oyster farms in Dakhla in the Western Sahara, fresh every Wednesday. We had all we could eat and they were delicious, crisp as the ocean. Morocco is full of wonderful secrets.

A Women’s Cooperative, Mesti, Morocco

About a half hour outside Sidi Ifni on the road to Guelmime is the town of Mesti, where the Tafyoucht cooperative of women produces argan oil.

Argan trees are only found in Morocco, and the oil pressed from the nuts can be eaten or used on the skin and in cosmetics. We sat with the women cracking the nuts and found how difficult it is. It was much easier to hit my finger than the nut. I have read that an automated method of removing the nuts has not been developed and so they are all cracked by hand (!)–mostly by women like ones we sat with. We chatted with a young woman near us, so deft she could crack the tiny nuts from the shells while chatting. She was abandoned by her husband while she was still pregnant. Her daughter is now five years old. Both she and her mother work at the cooperative.The process is lengthy, but nothing is wasted. The outer husk of the argan nut can be removed mechanically and is used as animal fodder. A classic photo from Morocco is a herd of goats climbing in argan trees and eating the nuts. (I did not take this one, I’m still looking for my tree of goats.)The nuts can still be cracked and squeezed for oil after they’ve been through the digestive tract of a goat, so fallen nuts are collected as well as those still on the trees. The hard inner shell that is removed by the women is used as fuel in the community bread oven. The raw nuts are pressed for cosmetics, or toasted and then cold pressed for edible oil. The slide show below shows the process at Tafyoucht.

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We were present on a lively day at the cooperative. Not only was there another group of visitors, but there was a film crew from BBC Arabic. The presenter asked whether he could interview Joyce as a resident of the area to ask her about the cooperative and its work and value to the community. It was fun to watch.

We purchased some skin oil and some cooking oil. We did not buy, but tasted, amlouze, a blend of argan oil, ground almonds and sugar. It would be good on toast.

When you plan your visit to southern Morocco, the Tafyoucht cooperative is a great place to visit.

Comparing Peru and Morocco

An initial look at Morocco shows some similarities with Peru. There are low buildings of adobe, lots of craft items, a long coastline, surfing, parasailing, and high mountains. There is only a limited amount of rain and some creative terracing has been developed over the centuries to foster agriculture.

Despite the visible similarities, the two countries are different. Morocco is 1/3 the size of Peru and has a larger population by 5-6 million. As a result, the population density of Morocco (74 persons per sq km) is three times greater than that of Peru (24 persons per sq km). Morocco’s population density is deceptive, as much of the south is lightly populated, meaning that the population is dense, more than 100/sq km throughout the northern part of the country bounded by Casablanca–Marrakech–Fez–Tangier. This northern region is the heart of Moroccan tourism, more than 10 million visitors per year, much greater than Peru’s 4 million visitors (85% visit Machu Picchu).

The Human Development Index, a composite of life expectancy, education, and per capita income is .628 for Morocco and .734 for Peru (2014). Life expectancy at birth is 74 years in both countries, but average income in Morocco is just under half that of Peru ($12,000). The potential for education and income is greater in Peru than Morocco.

The Sidi Ifni Sunday souk looks like flea markets everywhere.

Except sometimes the souk in Morocco looks very different.

What can we conclude from these few statistics and my observation of Morocco for only a week? Educational opportunities are limited by tradition to some extent, and jobs for people of working age are not sufficient for the size of the working class in both countries, though the problem is more acute in Morocco. People of both nations leave for employment in other countries. This can lead to successful careers elsewhere, or a lifetime of scraping by in a more developed country in order to send money home. The extended family can be a source of contacts and assistance, but it can also be a terrible drain on the income a person does manage to generate. Peru remittances for the 4th quarter of 2015 were 715.81 million dollars, while Morocco’s were apparently 6 billion dollars for the year (aprox 1.5 billion per quarter). Thus remittances are one of Morocco’s important sources of foreign exchange.

An important difference in the Human Development Index may be most visible in the number of Moroccan women who go about veiled. I personally see this as a barrier to education and work. In southern Morocco, where we are now, many women wrap themselves in a 3 meter long swath of fabric, a melfa, to go out. These can be very attractive, but the need to be veiled is something I view as a problem. Foreign women do not alter their mode of dress, and men can wear anything from jeans to a floor-length caftan. Note the men and boys in the background of these photos.

I am not sure what women think of their lesser role, and I know that many appreciate opportunities that arise for them. (See my next post on the argan oil cooperative in Mesti.)

An FYI: Many people do not wish to be photographed, and Joyce gave me good advice to always ask people before taking a photo. Some people agree to have a picture taken, others not. Thus, I do not have a photo of the beautiful tent full of vegetables presided over by a turbaned man in the Sunday souk. I have a picture of the camel’s head from the camel butcher, but not the crossed hooves from the beef butcher.

Agadir to Sidi Ifni–the charming Hand of Fatima

Nouri, the very helpful manager at our riad in Marrakesh, picked up our bus tickets to Agadir. He also helped arrange our transfer to the bus station. First the suitcases go in a cart to the edge of the medina, then the taxi is loaded, and then we are off to the bus station. Three hours later we meet Joyce and Jean-Marie in Agadir.

Bus stations are much alike.

This is the landscape of southern Morocco.

We were delighted to arrive at our friends’ home in Sidi Ifni. The Hand of Fatima painted on their front door is a symbol of protection and fortune.

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Cue the music–Marrakesh Express

Our stay in Marrakesh was short, but we made the most of it. From Riad Selouane, we made our way past the souks (dense warren of market stalls selling everything a tourist could want). I took a few photos of the route as we went, so we wouldn’t get lost. The market is brilliant with colors and polished metal.

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We stopped for lunch in a rooftop cafe over a small square where vehicles park temporarily. We found out that donkeys and motorcycles are the principal vehicles found in the medina.

From the rooftop we could see the palm trees bordering the Jma El Fnaa, the main square of Marrakesh. After lunch we walked over. The square in enormous, with room for many snake charmers, music performers, men in traditional water-bearer dress waiting to take a photo with you, and roving henna artists with their squeeze bottle of henna paste. They will decorate your shoulder, palm or ankle while you wait.

We returned to the riad without getting lost, and that is saying something.

Our dinner was around the corner at a restaurant where I had a chicken “pastille”, chicken in a phyllo wrapper with cinnamon. Our Moroccan cakes for dessert were a bit of a disappointment, mostly all almond paste, though in different shapes.

We fell into bed dreaming of Marrakesh.

Here are a few more photos of Riad Selouane, Marrakesh.

Main floor salon

Rooftop lounge chairs

Our room:

First Accomplishment of the New Travel Season

When we left Wheaton last year in April, all our possessions were packed in our Prius (and the storage unit). We went to California for 3 months and stopped on our way to the airport to drop off a lot of stuff with Amanda, since she’s in CA. We left for Barcelona with 4 suitcases.

Five months have passed since our return from Barcelona, and we are hitting the road again and Voila! we are down to one suitcase each. Plus generous carry-ons. Advice to travellers: Avoid driving through the NY area. Yes, it cost less to drive from Syracuse to JFK, even with the $250 drop off fee, but the tolls were a shock. $15 to cross the George Washington Bridge, and $8 more to cross the Whitestone. I was glad to turn our car in.

The New York skyline from the GW bridge–with some smog.

We had to hug Lyra a lot, since she was the only daughter available for hugging. She was a champ to brave the traffic to come and see us at the airport. This may never happen again.

Traveling business class makes the best of a long night.As I mentioned on Facebook, the business class lounge for Iberia in Madrid is excellent. We whiled away the time until our flight to Marrakech. The day was perfect, and we could see Ceuta, the Spanish enclave in North Africa (left), and Gibraltar (right).

We landed in Marrakesh and were collected by a taxi from our hotel, Riad Selouane. The driver got a man with a cart to take our suitcases from the taxi to the riad, because it is in the Medina where cars are not allowed. The streets are only one lane, and very narrow.