Our drive to Tarifa was full of hope. We loved our time in Spain but yearned for a different country with a warmer climate. Tarifa turned  out to be a small little town that we could explore while we waited for the ferry. We had a fantastic lunch in a small vegetarian restaurant, wandered the small streets and read about the different whales and dolphines that lived in the waters off the cost.

We then headed to the port and waited with anticipation for the ferry that would take us over to Morocco. Once aboard we relaxed on a choppy but enjoyable 35min trip to Tanger not knowing what we were heading into. Once we disembarked from the ship we followed the other cars into the customs area and soon learnt that everyone was in it for the tip (we had been informed about the hustlers and felt well prepared). Upon arriving at this check point we were kindly directed by an official to the right window. He then proceeded to request the registration papers for the car and Glenn's passport which were then taken off to get processed. In the meantime another local offered us mint tea even when we refused. Not wanting to be rude but unwilling to drink the "gift" we quickly discarded of both drinks which we were then told we had to pay for. FInally the first "official" returned with our papers and we were once again prompted for payment, which we obliged only to find out that all the man had done was take the papers to the counter for us and fill them in. By this stage we were becoming a lot more wary so when a police official escorted Glenn to register our stay in Morroco, he questioned the official as to his role and the response was that he was just going to fill in another form for us which Glenn politely advised he was capable of doing himself. Even so, on the walk back to the car the gentleman still requested payment for a service that both Glenn and himself agreed was never given.

This turned out to be the most sedate part of our entry into Tanger. Upon leaving the port we entered traffic mayhem where lines on roads came and went, traffic never stopped and we were surrounded by a city of tooting horns. We quickly learned there were new rules for using roundabouts in Morroco. Initially we were cautious giving way to existing traffic on the roundabout until the horns behind us advised us that this wasn't necessary as multiple cars went around us and entered the roundabout anyway. We quickly followed suit and were lucky to make it out of there alive as we participated in a game of chicken, seeing who was going to stop and let the other continue around first...

Our next, in what was becoming a series of adventures in Morroco, began when we plotted a route to Rabat asking Google/GPS to bypass tolls. This it did with it's usual finesse and the route was only going to be 20km more than with tolls. Unfortunately some of the roads in Morroco contain more pothole than bitumen requiring us to take the alternate route at 40km/hr. It was, however the best way to see the locals as we drove through villages and past shepherd after shepherd. As we drove waving to the locals we were surprised at how happy they all were and how eager they were to wave back. The most memorable being a shepherd who couldn't get his hands out of his pockets quick enough to wave back with both hands and a beaming smile in the middle. We them came across our first town of a reasonable size and were amazed that horse and cart or donkey was still one of the main modes of transport only outnumbered by minivans filled to capacity... plus one more. We drove past stalls selling the freshest looking fruit or cooking amazing smelling food and alongside the road all forms of pottery, most notably tagines, could be bought for nothing. 

5 hours later we got to Rabat, continued on down the coast to Casablanca and camped for the night. Overnight the wind started blowing and in the morning it was gale force. The downside to this was that the city became filled with plastic bags gathered from the many open rubbish piles around. Unfortunately we weren't staying long enough to help clean up. As we exited the city we were met with a traffic jam due to a road block up ahead and everyone began honking as if this would clear the road. After determining that it wouldn't, the locals took matters into their own hands and created a detour by driving across to the oncoming traffic lanes and designating it as one of their own. Chaos insued as well as a lot of giggling from us as to the absurdity of the situation and the fact that we would randomly honk our horn to join in with the mayhem . Not to be phased we too decided to join the locals at first by swapping to the other side of the road followed by making our own path down the median strip until we broke free onto a clear road ahead.

As we entered Marrakech we were met with our first sand storm which, while mild for the locals, was a first for us and reduced the visibility to only a few meters ahead at times. Thinking to spoil ourselves, especially due to the low cost, we thought to spend a night in a riad. Upon finding one that was well respected, reasonably priced and offered parking at a location "nearby", we plotted the course in Google maps to lead us to the riad. As we drove, entering into the medina (the old city) the streets started to become a little tight for our liking but we persisted as other cars ahead of us didn't appear to be phased (plus turning around didn't really appear to be an option). Things came to a halt, however as we came down a street that had an angled T junction and required us to fold in our mirrors to get through. At this stage things went from bad to worse.

The two routes we could take would apparently get much thinner according to the crowd of local kids around us. This resulted in multiple locals trying to help us first maneuveur the car around in the T junction to drive back out. This failed and started to make matters considerably worse, irregardless of the confusion that was being caused by so many helpful people offering different instructions to help resolve the situation. Our next step was to try and position ourselves so we could then reverse the van back down the way we came, through the thin street requiring both mirrors folded in and a hundred conflicted instructions being simultaneously broadcast to us. At this stage we were saved by an American who was staying nearby who take charge of the situation and started to get us back down from where we had come. Unfortunately, some of the local kids didn't appreciate him telling them what to do (sometimes necessarily forcefully) and the situation started to become tense. At this point we were jointly saved by a local Muslim man and the American, both offering calm and helpful advice even if they didn't always see eye to eye.

Finally we got the van reveresed far enough back where we could turn the van around, pausing briefly beforehand to allow the annoyed and frustrated backed up foot/horse traffic through. At this stage we discovered that during the chaos someone had stolen one of our iPhones off the dash plus making matters worse the kids were now agressively demanding payment for the help they had offered. Under the sound advice from the Muslim and American (and after thanking them both) we left the city following the path of entry.

We headed back out to an Ibis hotel we had seen on the way in determined to stay somewhere reasonable after the stressful day we had had. To add insult to injury they decided to charge us almost as much for one night as we had paid at the previous Ibis from a night, breakfast and dinner because we hadn't booked it online, something we were unable to do after the phone had been stolen. We were then also emailed from the riad the following day to demand payment for not showing after booking. Thankfully after explaining the situation they graciously waived the charge. Needless to say, at this stage we weren't to fond of Marrakech and without further ado hit the road for Essaouira on the coast.