Arriving at the Salé train train station and making my way to the ticket office, a station official called me over to try out the new automated ticket machine. This is the first I’d seen of this in Morocco and it seemed like they had just begun rolling them out. They’re very much like the touch screen machines we used to have prior to Opal, very easy to use and the official appeared pleased they I was able to use it no no problem. Just doing my part to help modernise Morocco.

The plan was to get off at the station in the city of El Ksar El Kebir, and catch a Grand Taxi from there to Larache. Morocco has two types of taxi’s, the Petite and Grand. Petite are used within the town itself, they don’t travel outside the city limits. The grand taxi’s on the other hand are used only for intercity travel. You can either hire the entire grand taxi for yourself, or wait for others going to the same destination and share it. The big difference being the price, it only cost 20dh to share it with it three others (I was able to score the front passenger seat), but to hire it all for yourself you’d need to pay for the missing fares so it can be a lot more expensive (many of the taxi’s squeeze 6 people in, so as a rule of thumb you’d be paying 6 times the amount). 

A lot of the grand taxi’s are old Mercedes, dating from about the turn of the century. Not that makes the drivers extra cautious, once you hit the highway the pedal is floored and you you start to wonder if now is a good time to take up religion. The driver also seemed to know everyone along the way, another taxi would pass and he’d be waving. A check point of police pass by and he honks and waves. We’re about to rear end a truck, but hey, good time to wave at your mate in the other lane. Needless to say, my heart rate eased to semi-erractic rhythm once we arrived in town and had to slow down.

A special surprised awaited me in Larache, and again in Asilah, where the Bonjours! gave way to Hola! Everyone spoke Spanish. I was not expected this in the slightest, but I suddenly felt like I could communicate properly again. Previously I had kept on switching to Spanish when speaking French, I’d say si- err, oui. Gracias- um, I mean merci. However in Larache, it was like getting back on that linguistical bike and the Spanish flowed freely. It was actually kind of funny at the riad when a French couple arrived and where being shown around, and he asked what time was breakfast. The daughter of the owner had to count on her fingers in French to figure out the number; only she must had got the number 9 wrong and the Frenchman looked in shock and asked Never?? 

There’s not much going on the Larache, I’d only decided to stop here to break up the travel which ultimately wasn’t all that necessary as the travel times aren’t really that bad, especially when you start to factor in using Grand Taxi’s (something I wasn’t sure about at first, but now I realise it’s one of the better travel options). What made the night stop over worth it was the riad owners Youseff and Veroncia, just such a nice couple and they really went out of their way to make you feel welcome. Also, Youseff makes an awesome omelette.

For the trip to Asilah it was the grand taxi again. This time it wasn’t a Mercedes but a mini van. It was a much slower ride, undoubly due to it being a van, and the driver was a little older, so he wasn’t 3 parts Evel Knievel, 1 part Death Wish. So half an hour later we arrive at the beach side tourist town of Asilah.

Back in the mid-80’s Asilah was invaded by tribe known as the hippies. The long haired flower people occupied the medina and haven’t left since. The riad owner was one such hippy (although, as he pointed out, he’s bald now), and had only opened the riad back in June. His other business was a market stall in the medina selling various pottery and tickets. Across from his shop was the artist Aryoub, who I was introduced to and couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the smell of pot in his shop.

Let’s take a moment to talk about pot and hashish. The Rif mountain region, just east of this location, produces the largest amount of cannabis in the world, roughly 42% of global production according to the Lonely Planet (it’s probably more now). Local tribes are legally allowed to grow it, therefore this entire region is ground zero for everyone smoking hash, trying to sell you hash, or smuggling hash into Spain. Seriously, every second person that comes up to you tries to sell hash, and according to themselves, they have the best and don’t buy from anyone else. Uh huh, totally trusting random dude from the street.

Being a tourist town, and I’m not talking about just foreign tourists but Moroccans too, the entire street along the outer medina wall is jammed packed with tent restaurant after restaurant, that becomes a street side Paddy’s Markets. If you’re passing through at 2pm or 8pm, expect to be approached by every single restaurant tout trying to convince you to come in and try their food. On my first night, however, I discovered a great place opposite the port that had something unexpected on the menu – beer.

I had to ask a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, they actually had beer; Stella, Corona, and the local beer Casablanca. After a week in the Moroccan heat, sweating through medina’s, getting sun burnt because I forgot to wear sunscreen one day, climbing uphill to kasbahs, a cold beer was never to been seen. Until now. Taking that first sip was a zen like experience, but I did became a little self conscience drinking it sitting outside as throngs of Moroccans passing by in the evening. Finishing the beer and an incredible fish tangine, I headed back to the riad greatly satisfied.

The next destination would be Tangier, which I had only planned for 2 nights and decided to check with the riad when I arrived if I could extend to 3 nights. Heading up to the grand taxi stand, a sedan with a family were about to leave for Tangier and the taxi conductor decided they’d squeeze me in. We had two in the passenger seat, and four of us in the back. We couldn’t help by laugh at the absurdity of getting us all in, but we did it, and a cosy hour later we entered Tangier.