Wait to worry Rose, wait to worry...

Tounate to Tafran 60 km
We were stopped by a guy who said he was a public official about 3 pm, he asked us where we intended to stay and to bring in our passports to his town which was on a dead end peninsula and not on our intended route. We had wanted to do a few more km to make the next day less but could not.  There was no accommodation in the town so we asked if there was somewhere nearby to camp, the gendarmerine, many of them, showed us an unlevel patch of dirt near the middle of town, no water or toilet and could not understand why we were not overly enthusiastic! They would not let us leave. They were not so interested in me so I chatted to a group of school kids who were great fun. (Photo)   After 2 hours Trevor was getting a bit frustrated, noone was understanding anything, the language barrier was big! finally someone remembered a guy who hosted foreigners about 10 km away so we said great we would cycle there,  but no, they did not want us to go,  they phoned and got the owner to come and get us which he did. It was in the boondocks, we would never have found it, and he usually just took package tours, dinner bed and breakfast etc and charged  a fortune. We explained we had our own food and just needed a bed and by then it was 7pm so that was fine, it was not flash but was big, clean and comfortable,  just what we needed.  The gendarmerine phoned to make sure we were staying there, he said if we hadn't they would have been out all night trying to find and protect us, there had been issues in this drug growing area... Cyclists do ride here but I think with support vehicles, perhaps a little off the tourist route than we should be. We were in village 4 of 30 in that area, we wandered around the village below us, one light bulb per house, donkeys, cows and chooks all living beside the shacks and a couple of dogs who did not like us. They move so quick when they decide to have a go at you.  Anyway a comfortable safe night and left the next morning at 8.30 am heading for Chefcheoun, the blue and white town known as the most picturesque in Morocco. The sign we saw the previous day said 90 km so we knew it would be a big day, but that is an understatement.
Nice morning, interesting, kids out on donkeys getting the water on a Saturday. Women happy to get their photos taken. Saw a great olive press, (photo)  Slow going though as very hilly. Lots of low gear. It got quite remote with fewer villages, we stopped for coffee and were given tea as well with orange blossom tossed in,  then had lunch on the road side and saw a sign that said 56km so were feeling ok. Up up up down down down, up up up..averaging less than 10 km per hr. Stinking hot. Our legs were getting trashed. At 4 pm we saw another sign that said 50 km. We could not believe it. We had done 62 already. And at the pace we were going it would be dark before we got there. We hadn't gone the wrong way, there was just one rd. We were chased up the hill by some young guy wanting money then a woman hassled me, screaming for money, it was turning a bit Yuk. We scoffed a pkt of orios and an orange,  the last of our food and we had run out of water. Still 16km to go to Ben Taza at the top of the hill. It was starting to cool down and the sun was going down as we pulled into a petrol station. I brought some water then an Argentinian guy who was working in Chefcheoun came over to chat and to see where we were staying. There was still 24 km to Chefcheoun and it was Easter Saturday, Spanish holidays so he told us and he thought all the  accommodation was booked out! I had been telling myself, "wait to worry"  for a few hours, but did start to feel more anxious. He gave us his number and said if we couldn't find anything we could stay at his workers accommodation as everyone was away.
We hightailed it out of there, now on a main rd winding down a hill. Going as fast as I could, too fast,  Trevor close behind. I had put my arm warmers and jacket on at the top but it was now freezing and getting dark. 8 km to the bottom then we stopped to put our lights on and Trevor to find some warm clothes. Just got going and an angry dog leapt out of the scrub at us, just what we did not need. I rang my bell, it hesitated so I bolted and left Trevor to deal with it!  4 km more on the flat, now I was worried, so exhausted, hungry, freezing, nearly dark and nowhere obvious to stay with a 12 km hill still to climb. Ahhh
98 km for the day and this sign appeared in front of us advertising a hotel and sites for campervans. Brakes on, straight in. The hotel was full but the lovely Spanish owner was more than happy for us to put up our tent on the grass by the swimming pool. What a relief!!  Tent up, then survived a freezing cold shower and finally made it to the restaurant for dinner at 9.30 and enjoyed the best meal in a fortnight, bread with dips, then chicken and vegetable tagines, meals cooked from scratch in small clay dishes. Slept very well!

Rif Mountains, Morocco

Continuing on from the last blog, great days riding 55 km and  found accommodation at a little village called Ain Hamra, about 30km from Aknoul, there were six self-contained apartments, apparently Europeans come over for holidays... We took the one bedroom, it was pretty good, a bit expensive and then had to convince the key holder that we did require gas for a hot shower... They were built with really thick walls to keep the sun out but it was sooo cold. No restaurant and just a couple of no women coffee places so we got bread olives, tomatoes and canned fish again, felt like we had to hide away again and then had to wrap blankets around us to keep warm in a lounge that had enough settees for 20 people. Odd!!
Ain Hamra to Thar Es-Souk, 60km,
Off early, gorgeous day riding through the stunning Rif Mountains,  through olive groves and around a dam. Wild poppies and donkeys.  Very little traffic just a few old European Mercedes Benz taxies. Not many people but always some guy lurking bored somewhere. The men seem quite hopeless and some quite helpless. The economy appears to be based around olives and coffee drinking in this area.  Lunch was a fried egg delivered in an inch of olive oil with bread to dunk in it. It is not an eat out society, people are too poor.  Shops are hard to find and there is very little in them.
We stopped at Thar Es-Souk to enquire about a hotel. Ahh, None, we were getting tired and it was incredibly hot. An ex teacher spoke English and his friend, a bus driver, promptly offered us his place to stay. They had a downstairs area that they were doing up, the bathroom was finished so it was perfect. Obviously quite a well to do family of the village. I think anyone who is employed does okay.  Very generous and genuine family. We were taken down to the gendarmerine to sign in, another hour wasted... But essential apparently. His wife then gave us tea and cakes, Trevor was then whisked away with the men to have coffee and I went off to socialize with the women which was great, I wondered where they all were! We sat out on chairs  under some trees in a communal area, chooks running around. Mother, grandmother, two sisters, (25 and 28) a niece (18) and sister in law with baby all joined us.  They chatted and laughed, everyone kissed one another when they arrived, even me and the young kids did as well.  They were all very lovely, made me fresh OJ, the younger girls spoke some English, seemed quite well educated but there is no work in the area, they live with their parents, they stay home all day, they are not married and really have nothing to do except cook and clean. I discovered they could not drive, nor ride a bike or even swim, very few people have cars.Women would never smoke in Morocco, that would be shameful.  They did not appear subservient and certainly the woman where we were staying was quite  modern and a very capable mum of 4. Their brother arrived, he had obviously been drinking. (in this non drinking country) He said with astonishment he was the same age as me and he had no teeth and mine were still perfect and white!
Dinner was started about 8.30, I was not allowed to help so I  was falling asleep sitting on the balcony. We ate at 10.30pm mutton, vege, bread and salads, then fruit, very nice. 3 older men, husband, 2 boys and us.  The woman of the house just served, did not eat with us and would not let me help clean up. Coffee and corn bread delivered in the morning, then off we went. A truely great experience.
56 km to Taounate.
The area is looking greener, a little more prosperous and a bit more traffic.
A much bigger town. One hotel looked good but had nowhere secure for our bikes so we ended up in another awful hotel room. We had intended to go the 80 km to Fez and onto the Atlas mountains but decided that we were not really feeling the love for Morocco and I was over staying in local hotels with Moroccon men!
In all the countries we have visited we have always felt completely safe. Here, we feel a little uneasy at times. Just not totally welcome by everyone. Nothing specific, just a vibe, maybe just the culture but as we are not destination driven we changed our minds and decided to head up to Cueta, the other Spanish city on the coast and to go back to Spain. Just 300km or so in between!
So we started on the shortest quietest route around a lake. But the rd went up and up then down and down. But great views. Just after lunch we spotted some women getting fresh bread from the outside oven. They were pleased to see us, gave us bread and proudly showed us their cows, they live right beside the house. Smelly!! It is surely a country of contrast. These women were really friendly, others cover their faces as we come near. Some men gladly shake our hands and chat, some look sullen and unhappy. The kids do not respond to a wave, they stare or run away. Every day some guy rips us off, quite blatantly at times, something costs 80 dirham, we give 100 they give only 10 change. If we count it and return to the counter they pull the other 10 from their pocket!! But some seem honest.
The roads are pretty much as in the photos just a middle bit of tar seal, if there are two cars coming they both end up with two wheels in the dirt, they don't slow down, we sometimes exit the road as well. No evidence of any maintenance being done anywhere.

Goodbye Asia, Europe beckons...

We had a few days in Sukhumvet, Bangkok staying with a lovely warm showers host, Carl, also about to embark on a long cycle trip, we hope to see him on the rd in Europe. Plus a nice weekend on the Ko Si Chang island, a very local island, just a bus and boat ride south of Bangkok.  Aeroflot flight to Malaga in southern Spain  via  a 12 hr stopover at Moscow airport. Our bikes arrived a day late but delivered to us and no damage.
Absolutely freezing when we arrived, a chilly wind, but clear blue sky, unheard of in Asia. And so civilised! Cars stopping at pedestrian crossings, great food, we enjoyed sardines, bread and beer near the beach one afternoon with Pierre, a very accommodating warm showers host, (French but living in Spain)  just packing up his house to embark on a year long cycle adventure. There had been a late snow storm in the mountains where we wanted to ride so we decided to head to Morocco for a few weeks till Spain warmed up. So off on a cruisy calm 7 hr boat trip from Malaga to Melilla, a gorgeous Spanish city on the African coast. We arrived late, had dinner at 10pm, the norm in Spain, found something open for breakkie next morning, then off to the Moroccon border. Good to be back on the bike.
Melilla to Drioche, 84 km
Border towns are so bad, we got some money from the ATM and headed to Nador the nearest coastal town where we had lunch. Flat riding all day on a narrow highway which had a small shoulder. Not a lot of traffic just white Mercedes Benz taxis! All the same. 4 guys in the back, 2 in the front plus the driver with his foot flat to the floor on the straights.  All with the hoods of their long gowns up and arms hanging  out the windows. No motorbikes and only a few private cars. We brought some oranges from a truck on the road side. Delicious. Tangy and juicy.  The small, quite barren villages we road through seemed deserted and the thing that struck me most was I saw no women. We reached Drioche about 5pm and were directed to the only hotel. Oh my goodness!! This place was no tourist destination. We took a room with only one bed as it was half the price of two beds and no way were we going to sleep in them. We put our tent up in the room and used our sleeping mats and sleeping bags! But there was a shower and toilet to share...
Got ripped off at dinner, we will have to be careful, we heard that fleecing tourists is the norm. We took a short walk down the street, not very welcoming.
Drioche to Kassita, 50 km
We found a coffee shop on the way out of town that was quite nice so had coffee and ate the fresh bread and cream cheese we had bought. The coffee shops just sell coffee... But it is very good and cheap. Tall glass, shot of coffee then they top it up with really hot milk and give at least three lumps of sugar!
Very hot, sun burning weather and another highway day. Many men doing not much, lots drinking coffee. People wait for taxis on the side of the rd, eventually one comes along with a spare seat and they go wherever they need to. Still no women around.
We were trying to find out if there was a hotel near the turnoff to the Rif mountains. We got conflicting advice so asked the local gendarmerine (policemen) at the town we were in. That resulted in an hour checking in our passports, they even required our parents names... they did phone and confirmed the next accommodation was 55 km away and heading into the hills so too far to continue. That left the two local options, I thought last night was bad.. we settled on the better of the two hotels and this time put our tent up on top of the beds... There was no shower. But the town had a slightly better vibe.  I feel uncomfortable being the only woman around in this male dominated society. Some people are friendly, come up and say welcome to Morocco, enjoy your stay but most totally ignore us.
Kassita to Aknoul -  55 km
Next morning we left as early as we could. Grabbed the daily round loaf of flat bread. We saw lots of women working in the fields, donkeys everywhere and then got invited for coffee by an older guy, ( photo with Trevor) he had retired to Morocco from The Netherlands so spoke a little English and was lovely. We sat outside in the sun at his house and his wife and other family were there too. So that was nice. We turned off the highway and the riding was superb, no traffic, great scenery. Lovely winding hilly country road. The lack of people compared to Asia is phenomenal. Not much wealth here, in fact not much evidence of industry at all. And the people, Berber people in this region, do not seem happy. Life looks like a chore for all. Hard work for the women and boredom for the men. Interesting...