Our policy of steering clear of motorway driving is a double edged sword. Slower going versus more interesting.
So we’re taking the slow scenic route. Hoping to get a better feel for this fascinating country and its residents. We take the N1 again. It’s going to be our best route to get down south towards Essaouira. Once there we’ll either head east towards Marrakech or continue south to Agadir. Both a few more days away and not on the radar. Today though, we’re heading for El Mansouria. Ideally placed between Rabat and Casablanca.
The N1 is a national highway with a difference. At times as smooth as a peeled hard boil egg. (Or even one that hasn’t been peeled) At others as rough as any track we’ve encountered in Iceland. Its route cuts towns and villages down the centre. We get to see non city life as is. Close up. What seems a frenetic mix on the surface, disguises an easy calm. Every type of transport utilised. Organic and mechanical constantly vying for road space. Everyone getting on with “business”.
Beastie rumbles on through and by the time we’ve reached Allal Tazi, so do our tums. Smells from roadside eateries exaggerate our hunger pangs. Time for our first tagine. The owner makes a huge fuss of his two European customers. Makes us feel really welcome. The majority of Mary-Ann’s meat gets palmed to the sad faced kitty clawing at her heart strings. It’s simple, but delicious. Washed down nicely with sweet minty tea.
Earlier in the day Beastie loses his first game of “chicken”.
At the following town the N1 bears left. A fork appears. The road signs are in Arabic. I only know numbers. I bear left. WRONG! Beastie’s being flashed. “Can’t believe it” eyes flash me. Arms wave. Time to do an about turn. The unexpected one way system not suited to Beastie’s size.
Last stop of the day is Jardins Exotique Sale Maroc. Just north of Rabat. We discover that if Mary-Ann was a tree, then she’d be due to celebrate her three hundredth shortly.
Then it’s time to baptise Beastie. We enter through Rabat’s old city wall.
I have reservations about tossing Beastie head first into the capitol’s cauldron at rush hour, but needs must. He passes with flying colours as does Mrs S. Her map skills improving daily.
