An area of tranquility amidst the chaos of development

Today we thought that you might like to see a more detailed view of a typical, small Moroccan campsite by the beach.

 

However you should also be aware that, from what we have learned on our travels, this country has a rapidly growing population, 40% of whom are between the ages of fifteen to twenty four. There are construction projects taking place throughout the country, some roads are being up graded, but basic amenities , apart  from the European tourist environments, are still very poor. Camping Ocean Blue sits between two such developments and we wonder how long it will survive before someone makes the family an offer for the land which they cannot refuse!

 The one topic we keep returning to, is rubbish and its disposal. For the most part, it just isn't happening. Sometimes there might be an attempt to burn it, not in a land fill, but on the street or in a corner by a wall. In some towns, the wind is allowed to clear the litter, which, because much of it is plastic bags and bottles, covers the landscape for miles, clings to thorn bushes and glistens in the sunshine. Sewage is often in the form of a septic tank which does not serve the whole community so there are health and sanitation issues as well. This open drain goes across the beach and into the sea. Fortunately, it's not at our beach.
We are told that Morocco is a wealthy country, also that there has been considerable European banking investment here, but there appears to be an uneven distribution of the money.
The cities are expanding as people migrate from the countryside in search of work but one wonders how they will be able to afford the appartments that we have seen being constructed. There are also all the housing schemes which have been left unfinished, either without roofs or windows or both!!
In other places there are vast tracts of land that have been levelled, streets and lighting installed, then apparently abandoned. What about this wall? Not a skilled craftsman.
It really is a country of contrasts.
Back to our comfort zone. This is often breakfast, once we have collected fresh bread from the 

 

office

There is a small restaurant selling grilled fish ,tagines and soft drinks.

As you can tell from the sky, today has been a cool day. Take a look at us in our big jumpers!

This is one of many fresh water taps on site with rather exotic tiling. Unfortunately the sign indicating that it is drinkable, does not compare in quality.

Nevertheless it is universally recognisable. On the theme of water, Delfin had her first wash since we left home and we are still finding Saharan dust!

 

Oualidia to Mohammedia via El-Jadida .... and the most common vowel is ?

The motorway was a reward for driving sixty miles along, around and off the edge of ,the worst stretch of road I have ever encountered . It wasn't possible to take more pics because Sue couldn't hold the camera still!

There were pot- holes, long and deep enough to swallow Delfin whole! We used every tea towel and hand towel in our possession, to try and dampen the creaks and rattles coming from every drawer and cupboard. Then to cap it all, there came the sound of a tyre going flat .... again. With much huffing and puffing we pulled in at the side of the road in El -Jadida, (quite a busy town) and found that the tyre was still alive! Went a little further, could still hear  the noise. By now we had forgotten to follow the Sat Nav because we were keeping our eyes open for a " pneus" garage. Never one about when you need it, so needless to say we ended up in a narrow one way street being abused by Moroccan car drivers and their horns.

"Keep the sea on your left " came the cry from she who is in charge of maps and guidance equipment.
Then there was an opportunity to pull onto a large garage forecourt and inspect these precious tyres. We ran our hands all the way round each one and then I found the problem. Two large stones had embedded themselves in the deep tread and were clunking with each rotation. Decision time. Should we pull them out or would that release the air? At least we were off the road if we had to phone for assistance. Out they came like a couple of rotten teeth. Then we waited. Two European ladies,  on their hands and knees, bottoms in the air, at a busy garage, ears to the ground, listening for a hiss. The image was very unflattering. But  hey, who cares? Not a sound. There was no longer anything to worry about so for the first time in Morocco, we used a motorway for the rest of the trip.
 No matter where we have travelled, the ubiquitous satellite dishes are everywhere, even in the low rise squalor on the outskirts of Casablanca.

Other points of interest today have been the "salines"

the carrot strippers,

and the Saturday fruit and veg souks. 
Have a look at these road signs. Is it any wonder people get speeding tickets!



 Now we're here at Mohammedia , the line is up and yes you've guessed it, Sue is happily doing our washing, in the shade of the eucalyptus trees. It's called Camping Ocean Blue, and we are fifty metres from the Atlantic!


A lazy day but there have been highlights

Sue is once again being Mrs. Overall, down on her knees with dustpan and brush, sweeping the daily collection of sand and grit from the house. Later there will be dusting and polishing. Thank goodness we don't have any silverware!

 

Our morning beach walk gave us more memorable sights. From the sand dunes (we never seem far from these wherever we stay) we pottered and paddled along the shore with waves thundering against the jagged rocks, sending plumes of spray high into the air, drenching those sat with their rods.
Further along the beach we passed fishermen mending nets, setting out tables and chairs for fresh fish  BBQs at lunchtime and hauling recently-returned boats up the steep, shelving beach to safety.
There is a gap in the off-shore rocks, through which the small, two man vessels are carried on the waves of the in coming tide. Each one hurtles through this narrow entrance like a cork from a bottle of fizz!
Further around the lagoon youngsters are learning how to body surf and families are arriving for a few hours of beach time with their children.

A local council worker has raked all last night's seaweed debris, into neat mounds, ready for collection. This small resort is almost European in character. Back at the van for lunch and there is ferocious shouting and much fist waving from the men on mopeds

. It appears that " fish wars" have broken out. One is on the others sales patch and it's getting ugly. Will there be hake hurling, or jousting, with a swordfish tucked under an arm?
We just sit and watch and refuse to buy fish from either of them!!

Meet our " Guardian " He prowls around  the van when we are out roaming and Sue has christened him the somewhat unimaginative name of  " Fido ". There's not even a hint of Moroccan in that handle.

A Berber ...... now that's Moroccan.

Oualidia, paradise by a lagoon

We left the peacocks and the municipal site at Safi to discover a little corner of paradise forty miles down the road at Oualidia. This was our first glimpse. The wind had virtually dropped from a gale to a breeze and we were excited at the prospect of spending a couple of days, working on the tan.

The views along the cliff-top, coastal road were even more impressive than yesterday. Here are some cliffs that appear to have slumped into the sea and a lighthouse which has the features of a Kasbah.



The walls of schools are often painted in bright colours or have illustrations to show a local scene. This one has focused on the olive trees.





In France, water towers are a common sight, but we have never seen one being constructed. This giant mass of scaffolding came into view and at first it had us thinking of a science fiction film, with a space ship landing on Earth! Vivid imagination required

This strip farming is taking place on a rocky shelf at the foot of the cliffs and each strip is protected by bamboo windbreaks.



Then came our first sight of accessible sand.

This time the fishermen had green boats and once a catch is landed a bevy of men on mopeds, with a basket on the rear, tout their fresh fish around the cafes, restaurants and campsites. We had four visits in as many minutes, but it was "La, la shukran" from us. We like our fish boned, filleted and on a plate.

So you can see where we are but note the anglicised spelling of Walidia

.These tourist boats take people for trips around the lagoon. Fun but expensive and through the arch, you can see where we are parked, just three hundred metres from the sea.

Coast road to Safi

Sadly, though we would have enjoyed a few days in one place, by the sea, the wind has been too strong and forced us indoors. We made the decision to take the coastal route to Safi, along a narrow and somewhat bone-shaking minor road. Nevertheless it was a good choice. We drove through Aleppo pine forests for a few kilometres before emerging to breath-taking views of a rugged, wave-lashed coastline.
This region seemed wealthier than others in Morocco. The houses were new, large and quite grand compared to the properties further east. They have plenty of land , enclosed within their own walls , which retains the theme of a kasbah and the gardens are landscaped with evergreen trees and colourful plants.
This coastal road gave us glimpses of sheer-faced cliffs, caves, headlands and inaccessible beaches, which stretched for miles, and as yet have not been defaced by tourism
We stopped at a small resort town called Souria whose roads were wide enough for Delfin to take us to the "plage". We explored the beach and paddled ( the water is far too cold to contemplate getting wet ). We found huge crab claws and lots of attractive shells. The sand from the winter storms had completely buried the promenade so one imagines that they have a sand version of a snow plough to remove it all!
We are now at the municipal site at Safi. If one was prone to sea sickness then the buffeting and rocking of the motorhome would surely have you rushing for the bucket.
Safi is the phosphate centre of the universe and has the heaviest concentration of industry that we have seen anywhere. Once we had left the ugliness of tanks,towers and purple slime behind, a rather European city came into focus, so we found a Marjane , that's a Moroccan Tesco, did a shop and drove here.
This is the site where peacocks are allowed to roam freely amongst us. At the moment, two are enjoying a snack of dead flies from Delfin's radiator grill and another has almost had its head in the van. Their beautiful tails are a hindrance in the wind, as they are pulled sideways. Does nothing for the male ego to be wooing the missus, then to find that you are sprawled in the dirt, with your tail, literally between your legs!!

Here's lookin' at you kid. Bon Nuit


Blowin' in the wind

The  road to Sidi  Kaouki.

 Today we shared it with cows, but as you know, on  other days it has been sheep, goats and manic moped riders, The site is clean and modern, with a toilet block framed with geraniums and bougainvillaea.

Having stayed at a town site and taken

advantage of the retail therapy on offer ( I bought and a small Berber rug, made from camel wool and beautifully patterned with Moroccan designs ), we are now ten miles south, in the middle of nowhere, with the sea on our door step.
Actually it's not as bleak as it sounds. There are the beginnings of tourist developments, such as our lovely campsite set amongst argon trees, complete with resident tortoise and a couple of kittens. We are told that fresh bread will be delivered in the morning, by a man on a donkey!
There are a few auberges being built, but like most of the construction work in Morocco, one wonders when they will be completed.
That aside, we have just had a platter of mixed fish for lunch, fresh from the sea, washed down with freshly squeezed orange and banana drinks. Yummy!
As is the norm, the campsite is enclosed by a decent sized wall, but from our chosen pitch, we can see white horses on the crests of waves, as the strong wind hurls the turquoise waters up the gently shelving beach. Apparently, here at Sidi Kaouki, close to Cap Sim, the waves are so powerful, that it is safe for only the most experienced surfers. One can only wonder what went through the minds of all these lean, brown, muscled- up guys, when we two old girls wandered into their scene!
The beach is splendid. It a wide crescent between the headlands and camels roam the poor grazing between the sand and the single track road.
A mausoleum, which appears to rise up out of the water, is at the far end of the bay. It is the tomb of a holy man, who, as legend would have it, had the power to cure infertility. Even today, there is an annual pilgrimage made by devotees, although having experienced the vast numbers of people everywhere in Morocco, the tomb might better serve as a site for a pilgrimage to resist the temptations of the flesh!!
The wind has blown all day. Not a gentle breeze but sufficiently strong, that you can lean backwards and it will support you. We feel buffeted and exhausted. Walking is a great effort and you are constantly shielding your eyes from the sand. It is also quite chilly, so the decision is to move a little further north, perhaps as far as Safi along the R301 and hope for some calmer surroundings.

Two breeze blocks, five litres of water and a mop handle to prevent the door from slamming in the wind! We camping-car travellers have to be inventive.

Essaouira.....a tongue twister.

With the brilliant whiteness of its limestone washed walls, Essaouira is one of the most enchanting towns in the country. It has fortifications to protect it from both the sea and past naval attacks but today, with the constant winds creating huge waves, it is a surfers paradise.

 The working, blue sardine  boats in the harbour, leave no space for leisure craft.

 South of the town, wind blown sand is creating dunes and tourists ride camels and horses through this miniature Sahara.

The Medina itself is a labyrinth of narrow streets but unlike the cities, there are wide streets laid out at right angles to one another.

 We enjoyed roaming the fish and spice souks and investigating the cost of robes and leather without the hassle of vendors constantly inviting you into their shop to haggle.

Once the sun had set, the town came alive, not with tourists, but the local inhabitants, who had come out to do their own shopping. Simple light bulbs dangled from frayed wires, people were shouting and touting their products, beggars mixed with lads pushing motorbikes and small children, as they do the world over, were pestering parents to buy them cake or sweets.