Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Days 1-3: Agadir

The new and different thing about this holiday is that we got a package tour, something which every bone in my body rebelled against. Except for my financial bone. So we get a hotel, for two weeks in south Moroccan beach resort Agadir, included in the price; we plan to cruelly ditch it tomorrow, and head north to Marrakesh. Our hotel, the ominously-named Tagadirt - is brilliantly eccentric, all blue and white art deco stripes, a maze of Whitereadesque white boxes, with swings and a mini-golf course bizarrely shoehorned into the middle.

Tagadirt hotel, Agadir
Tagadirt art deco

As part of the package, we also got a ridiculous in-flight video, which I was hoping would tell us a bit about Morocco. In fact it began something like, "Going to a different country can be just that - different. Different weather, different people, different food, different places. That's fine - but sometimes that difference can be dangerous." It then went on to warn that we could perish by falling over next to the pool, get confused by the different types of ovens that we may encounter and, my favourite, put our children's lives at risk by entering "lifts with no interior doors".

Agadir being package central, there's a huge number of white tourists around town - initially, it seemed, far more than actual Moroccans. Most are older and fatter than us, and more inclined to wear tiny speedos below their large bronzed/very pale bellies.

Despite this, and despite the sudden stretches of scrub land (a result of the disastrous 1960 earthquake?), Agadir does have a certain charm - tree-lined avenues and a seaside town atmosphere, as well as an array of smiling waiters and scrawny chats with piercing yellow eyes.

The beach at Agadir

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