Here I lay.. panting on the Moroccan sand, trying to catch my breath after being caught on the wrong side of a particularly violent wave.
"Vijgen, dadels, sugar donuts!"
I thought I was safe. Paddling parallel to the face of the wave, I figured I'd just go a bit towards it and smoothly go over the lip before it peaked.
Well, I was wrong.
And I got taken for a ride. A big gulp of salty water, a board against my neck, and I couldn't tell which way was up. Fun times.
It's a good thing I learned to relax under water during my time freediving in Thailand. If you relax while the waves roll over you it actually becomes quite fun (until you need oxygen that is). As a kid I sometimes wondered what it would be like to be inside a washing machine. Guess I can check that off.
"Hey Ali Baba! Kokosmakroon?"
Kokosmakroon?! Ha, the Dutch must've really left an impression here. I declined, opting for mint tea instead. 10 Dirhams. That 's about one Euro. I could probably get it cheaper. I know for sure I can get it for cheaper. But why haggle with a man who needs it more than I?
Cammerce (camel+commerce, get it?). I'm unsure of my moral stance towards camelmerce though. On the one hand, let camels camel, instead of tugging them around to the next tourist, hoping to hustle a few dirhams. On the other hand, flaneuring on the beach and being padded by tourists whilst getting your tan on doesn't seem like too bad of a life, does it?
Dreading the paddle.
Waiting in the wings.
Taghazout, Morocco, has a lot going for itself. With Morocco being an Islamic country - albeit a very tolerant one - alcohol isn't readily available. Hash, on the other hand, is. Win-win. I slept like a baby.
This reputation of an alcohol-free, Islamic country also makes it unattractive for the party crowds of the world. Don't expect to see many 20-somethings puking their guts out at 6AM after a few too many games of beer pong. What you get instead is a gorgeous, largely undisturbed coast line, with great food, great waves, and very friendly people.
Such a bummer.
The Agadir region is mainly a constellation of small villages. One of the charms of small towns is that most people know most people; kind of like 3 degrees of Kevin Bacon. This type of social cohesion keeps crime levels at a minimum. People aren't fucking each other over on the regular, because they'd get excommunicated right quick. All this makes for a very pleasant vibe.
Occupying a premier spot along the Taghazout coast line is a giant solar-powered, yet totally empty, parking lot. Each lamppost has its own solar panel, pretty neat, right? I'll be parking my van here next year.
So much fun having a clown for a little sister.
Afternoon nap. Waiting for the swell to pick up. And the food to settle.
Just give me all the avocado's that you have, do you understand?
This was the closest we got to a Western fast food chain. Let's hope it stays that way.
The cleanup crew.
Norwegian Adam modeling for a shot.
Morocco was great, albeit too short. Back in the NL, it's time to finish the van and pick a warm place to hibernate and work somewhere, before the grande tour of Europe begins.
I can't wait.
Some more photos can be found here on Facebook.