I dreamed of going to Morocco for years....long rights, mystical, desert, arabic, markets and mosques. I have the fondest memories of the Muezzin call to prayer from my time in Indonesia (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAvlimEYEpQ) and a slightly less spiritual infatuation for belly dancers.
Finally after many a year an apartment was secured on Anchor Point, right on it, fourth floor. Heidi could sunbathe and photograph from the baclony..........perfect. Not a ripple in nearly two weeks. I hear the next week was the swell of the winter and Woody I hope you enjoyed it .. really not a lot of bitterness here, no not much at all, I´ve forgotten about it really.
Still I had the best time, I want to go back not to Taghazoute but may be a road trip, spend some time up north where I have a little secret to check that a gypsy told me..who knows?
I know the shark is dead, but that is as close as I could get.....
The camel driver didn´t speak french but I gather that he was selling his camels at a market in Agadir but had arrived a week early, he had no water or food at all...it seems that in times of need a letting of blood from the neck quenches the thirst....hmmm not so sure. Lovely chap though.
In the fig tree is a man, an old man, it was impossible to get the perspective right for me, the tre is hugs easily 50 foot, he shinned up there and cut the figs (or are they dates?), he was shouting at me for a long time, before I realised where he was. Paradise Valley, boootiful.
Essaouira market scene, the town that Hendrix bought...whatta knob.
The fixer was a real nice guy, he had a story to tell and i loved to listen.