Marock ‘n Roll: Tangier to Tan-Tan
Tagine filled tales from two months under the Moroccan sun.
Crossing the ferry into Morocco we weren’t really sure what to expect… we heard stories of corrupt officials, ruthless hasslers and dangerous roads.
What cultivated was eye-opening view into the simple life. A cultural blast from the past combined with constant swell and uncrowded waves. A surf heaven.
Going in we knew alcohol would be overpriced and difficult to find... so naturally we decided to stock up before leaving Spain.
Lucky for us our water reservoir (more like vodka reservoir).. was built for the job!
We made it across with no troubles! Welcome to Africa ☺
Our slightly ‘unkept’ Euro hair styles were no longer in fashion when we crossed the Med. This Barber shop wall exhibit immediately spiked Taylor’s excitement.
We came out inches shorter on top and shaved as short as the Moroccan razor’s could handle on the chin..
Chefchouen was our first stop — known for its blue rinsed buildings and hashish farms.
The King Mohammed VI was due for a visit in the coming days.. so the locals had their smiles on and paint brushes in hand.
With our 10 litres of vodka — boy did we ever paint the town blue that night!
Hiking and exploring in Morocco can get expensive. Not because equipment has to be purchased, nor because national parks have a fee — but because every Moroccan you meet has the soul of an entrepreneur.
A couple locals will be waiting at the entrance with an improvised rope — which is only dropped after you contribute a few dirhams. To ‘guard’ your car another couple of Moh’s will be waiting… and if you want a guide, no problem, just take your pick! Actually, even if you don’t, one will choose the same hike as you and guide you anyway.
Usually, we were quick on our feet and made it out without a guide. Probably could have used one for the pic!
For those who remember, one rule we made for the trip goes as follows: as a hitchhiker, if there is an available spot in Leeroy, you will be picked up.
In Europe, very few got the chance to heat up Leeroy’s extra seat. In Morocco.. well… it’s been a different story.
On many occasions, the back seats were even a necessity. One passenger ‘ANAS’ decided to add to Leeroy’s charm.
We stopped in Rabat, as we needed to hit the embassy for our Mauritanian visas.
We read on forums that visas could only be acquired in Rabat. But the Mauritanian officer told us without doubt that we can get them at the border..
So.. fingers crossed. As the locals say: ‘Inshallah’ (if Allah wills) ☺
In Morocco, every city, town and even the smallest of fisherman villages have a beautiful mosque planted in the centre of town. The call to prayer, starting as early as 5am is often more reliable than our alarm clocks.
The food, although light in variety is heavy in flavour. Cumin is more common than salt & pepper, and the scent of tagine (below) starts shortly after sunrise.
This photo cannot do justice to the abundance of foods, flavours, colours and attention to detail at each and every stall in the Marrakech’s souk.
So after what felt like a rushed 2.5 months we finally found a spot to call home for a solid month.
Taghazout — The fisherman, turned surf village became home. It’s 12 surf breaks within a 10 minute drive didn’t hurt things.
We had a wonderful guest for 3 weeks. She provided a much needed rendezvous for Tay — and provided a chocolate eating companion for Claude.
The next month was spent eating, surfing and sleeping. Big thanks to Jord — our resident photographer. Full photo credit to her!
Taylor had some fun on one of Morocco’s famous long right handers at Imsouane.
After one too many Tagines, Jord became a little sick. That didn’t stop her from giving Leeroy a boot in the ass for a few trips out of Taghazout.
We headed South to the laid-back Spanish town of Sidi Ifni (Town Hall pictured on top). With a little local help we even found some waves!
Did I say laid back?? Sidi Ifni is known to have Morocco’s highest per capita TTT (time to think).
With one more box to tick, we crammed 4 into Leeroy and set out for a day trip to Paradise Valley.
It turned out to be a Sunday — meaning every Moroccan from Casablanca to Agadir was also in the valley.
No better time for the white boys to put on a show!
With the clock winding down on our time in Morocco, we watched one last Taghazout sunset and said ‘au-revoir’ to friends.
Before setting off for Western Sahara, Mauritania and beyond we made a few copies of our Carte Grise (car registration) juuuuuuste to be safe.
Good thing.. because the original copy is now somewhere between the scanner and the Sahara Desert.
Once again.. Inshallah ☺
Big thanks all the local help along the way.
Safaa in Rabat for teaching us the Moroccan Macerana.
Louis in Sidi Kaouki for the relaxing times at the Blue Kaouki.
The Mouhyi family for the much needed R&R in Marrakesh.
Julien for offering the best couscous in all of Marrakesh.
Aïda, Cryrielle and Charlotte in Taghazout for stealing all our waves.