Rabat

After the rest we had in Asilah, we were back in the big city, in Rabat the capital of Morocco and one of the most western styled cities in the country. This of course gave us high hopes of finding somewhere to get the beers in!

It took us some time however, to find a place to stay, as the camp site we were hunting, had been knocked down to make way for new development. We eventually pulled into the surf school (founded by the King himself, who by all accounts is a keen surfer) on the coast below the Kasbah, where the caretaker, Ocean helped us with our needs. Firstly trying to sell us an over priced second hand surf board, which we refused, and then taking us to a hotel on the outskirts of the Medina, where we decided to stop for three nights.



The quest continued for a well deserved beer, that was turning out to be near on impossible during Ramadan. We wandered the streets of the Medina, noticing that everything was closing up in preperation for the daily breaking of the fast. So, putting beer to one side we searched for a restaurant to have our first meal of the day. This turned out to be near on impossible too, as every restaurant and cafe was full to the rafters with locals, patiently waiting with full plates, for the anouncement from the Minoret to start their feast. With hunger creaping up fast we eventually found a table and waited for the cries of the Muazzin, before we tucked in.



Some hours later, when the Souq's (markets) reopened, we continued our wandering. Just as we started to give up on the fact that a cold beer would ease the dry throats of three weary travellers, we happened apon a more than guilty feeling. Hidden behind a screen in a local hotel, the barman served us three semi cold hienekens, that we sat and drank like three naughty school boys. After guzzling a second and third, with our tails between our legs, we headed for bed.

The sun rose on a new day, and some culture was in store. We headed off on foot toward Hassan tower, built by the king Hassan the 2nd in the 12th century. A magnificent piece of work, accompanied by the mausoleum of Mohammed the 5th, another work of beauty, filled with a fine mosaic from floor to ceiling.

Exhausted from our expedition and feeling quite hungry, the smells of a local patisserie where too much for some. Gluttony got the better of them, as Iain and Bendigo tucked into some suggary treats, five hours before the setting sun.

For the second time in 24 hours, guilt sunk in. So running away from the sceen of the crime, we jumped into a taxi and asked to go to the Roman Ruins. With a big grin from ear to ear, the taxi driver turned and set off down the street. Weaving in and out of the traffic like a crazed man and laughing like a wicked wizzard, we soon realised, we were headed in the wrong direction. Maybe he knew a short cut, so we gave him the benefit of the doubt. But he was indeed taking us in the wrong direction. After some time and a crazed look in the eyes of our captor, we exited with haste, leaving the correct change and the taxi driver still cackling away.

As we were now even further from the ruins, but had jumped from the taxi near the Kasbah (Fort), we crossed the road and entered. Very similar to a Medina, the Kasbah was a little smaller and was used to defend the city. After wandering the alleys once more, we came accross a man playing an Gnawa, and swinging the tassles on his Fez. Inviting us with a big smile, he beckoned for us to sit. Iain took point, and sat down on his rug, preceeding to swing his head and Fez to the sweet sounds of the Gnawa. Bendigo and Nathan, were next to try their technique. Only to find it not so easy.

With a full day of culture behind us, we decided for a quiet night in with a DVD, only that wasn't as easy as we hoped. Some time later, at about midnight, we eventually got it to work.

The Roman Ruins of Chellah, were on the agenda for the next day. This time opting to walk accross the city and not take a taxi, we found them. Sitting on top of a hill, the ancient ruins from the 12th century, were there to explore. Through the kept gardens and the more recent 14th century Mosque and Mausoleum, destroyed by an earthquake, we strolled. Ending up at the.....where it is said, if women feed the eels a boiled egg, they will become fertile. Iain wanted to try, but had forgotten to bring his eggs.


Time had flown by and as the sun started to get lower in the skies, the ressident Storks began to fly back in to roost. Perched up on top of the Mosques Minoret and all the surrounding trees, were the huge nests of these large birds. Clapping their beaks together to make a sound similar to that of the predator, they called their mates in to rest. It was now time for us to leave.

A long drive to Oualidia via Casablanca was in store for the following morning. If we could get the taxi back from the school kids...

Asilah

Leaving the hustle and bustle of Tangiers behind, our next stop was the sleepy town of Asilah just 50km down the road with its mix of French, Spanish and Moroccan influences, made a refreshing change from the grimy port city we had come from.

We found a cheap and safe place to stay, parked up Harriot on the street and headed out into the town to spend the afternoon and most of the evening strolling around the markets and the Medina (old fortified city). As we weaved in and out of the alley ways of the beautifuly kept city, we spotted our first jedi night. Dissapearing around a corner, he was soon to appear behind us, then like a mystical being, vanished, only to appear watching us from around the next turn. Leaving us with only one choice...

..One day we shall return, masters of the jedi and play havoc with this being.

Taking in the rest of sights and sounds as well as some rather good artwork painted right onto the walls, we continued back to the hotel.










With exhausted limbs, the manager of the hotel pushed us towards a good restaurant, who's owner looked suspiciously like a certain Sunderland footballer (hopefully this one does not spit as much as the footballer does). Still the food was great and despite Bendigo getting pooed on by a bird and our table being surrounded by stray cats, it was a good day all round even if we could not manage to get a beer anywhere! We went to bed that night to the sounds of arabic music and for some strange reason 50 cent, this was however not the last music we would hear that night! As you may know we had arrived during Ramadan, a time at which the locals rise at around four to eat their fill for the day. In Asilah they do things a little differently, as they employ a young lad to do a job every morning, as you can tell from the video this was rather annoying and unexpected at 3:30am;



The next day we set off to paradise beach, which the ever inaccurate lonley planet suggested was 3km away, only to find it was more like 8km! Accross rough terrain, we strolled for 1 hour, up and down rolling cliff edges, through a building site and down a rocky path or two, watching the waves crash below. Still the walk was well worth it, as the prize at the end was a near deserted golden beach. The afternoon was spent soaking up the rays and strolling along the sands, reflecting on what we had done so far.



Feeling exhausted from the hike and the sun, we enjoyed some local Tagine. And with full stomachs, from a tasty meal, we hit the sack, ready for a day on the road.

In the morning we headed off south, down the western coast, towards Rabat. However we had lost our first fare, as Chris decided to stay on a bit longer in Asilah, but time or a black cab waits for no man.

Tangier

Finally after 4 countries, 2200 miles, a lot of a beer, hardly any sleep, only a small mechanical niggle and lots of new friends we were heading to Africa and Morocco! Pushed on by the wind farms of southern Spain (yes i know they do not work like that!), we arrived at the port of



Tarifa just 13km away from Morocco over the Gibralter Straights. After dealing with the tickets for the ferry and brushing off some tourists wanting to take pictures of the cab we set sail, well sort of, for Morocco. On the ferry we met an English guy who lived in Marrakesh who filled us in on some important things to remember. Firstly that passport control was on the boat, secondly and most importantly perhaps, how much to bribe policemen if they stop your car (50dh, about £3)

What he didn't tell us was that every single person you come into contact with at the port and at customs needed to be bribed in some way shape or form. Like the well prepared team we are we had arrived with about 30p between us leading us to bribe people with anything we could that was lying about in the cab! In addition to this before even getting out the the customs area and only some 10 feet from the boat someone offered to buy the cab, while at the same time we were bombarded by people selling sunglasses and watches and hashish. Although it was only 13km away it was clear we were in a whole new world now!

This feeling was enhanced by the narrow lanes up to our hotel (complete with bendigo nearly running over an old lady!), the Continental, a hotel stuck in a time warp. It hadn't seemed to have changed since it had been built and was probably the place to be during the jet set and literary past of Tangiers. The other issue we had to contend with was the fact that we had arrived mid way through Ramadan, the Islamic festival, where nothing can pass into the body from sunrise to sunset, this made getting anything to eat or drink in the day rather difficult, especially beer! (despite the initial shock we have by and large stuck to it, when in Rome and all!)

Heading out of the hotel we were met by Abdul, who became our helpful guide for the afternoon who showed us around to get our bearings around the maze of the medina. The next day we set about our first major task of the trip getting a new radiator, this was to be an eye opening experience in itself. The mechanic we found proudly proclaimed "I know every engine in the world", of course this was before he saw what we had causing him to add "except for that one!" when we rolled up! This task was also a good demonstration of how much Moroccans like to argue, with english speaking locals wanting to help for a nominal fee of course our mechanic let rip with a few choice words, hurled his tools on the ground and shoved one of them onto the ground! With this out the way he set about fixingnthe radiator with McGuyver like inginuity while we all lounged in the sun! Including tips for a days labour this set us back about £60 which isn't all bad!



The final task in Tangiers was to buy some local get up so we would blend in to our new surroundings

Next stop Asilah...

A long drive and Pinal Novo

Hello again one and all,we are slowly drawing towards North Africa but for this update we are still in Europe and in Portugal, Pinal Novo to be exact to the south of Lisbon

Before Portugal however there was the small matter of driving from Northern Spain, a task not to be taken lightly except of course if your name Chris who elected to spend most of the 18 hour drive asleep in the back of the cab! Needless to say Iain and Nathan manned up and bore the brunt of this epic journey, passing the time with some rather good tunes on the radio and feeling the need to have a personal life soundtrack adviser to ensure that this happened more often.

It was not all fun and games though as we had our first mechanical malfunction of the trip, it seems the seemingly endless and large hills of Spain had taken its toll on our old girl, with her temperature shooting up to the danger zone and forcing us to pull over to the sight of steam coming out of the bonnet. Letting her cool down a bit Iain and Nathan experienced one of those strange moments of male bonding, not with each other but with a gent who spoke no English, but nevertheless was able to understand our plight and sympathise.

However like most women when they get a bit hot under the collar all she needed was a little time and a few drinks and Harriet was as right as rain again and we set off. After a short stretch drivers were changed and we eventually arrived on the beach at Nazare in Portugal. This was especially confusing for Nathan and Iain as when they woke up they were in the car on their own, the surfboard was missing and the other two were no where to be seen!

Regrouping we set off for Pinal Novo a town to the south of Lisbon to meet Maura a friend Chris had met in Bratislva who had agreed to put us up for as he put it a year if needs be! This was to be one of the best moves made on the trip as we experienced not only unbelievable hospitality but an amazing few days of partying that are probably to blame for our haze over the events that followed.

The first night we were treated to an amazing meal of bbq fish and various other forms of meat with Helder another new friend we had made.



After the meal Chris retired to sleep, and Maura took us to a local "bar" where they had music booze and girls most of which were experiencing wardrobe malfunctions. We were later told that this was called a strip bar, a phrase that none of us have ever heard before...

Bendigo and Nathan were soon fleeced into buying a couple of rather expensive drinks for aforementioned ladies but at least Nathan redeemed himself by getting her phone number while Bendigo complained so much he was flooded with apologetic kisses. Iain on the other hand sat on his wallet and discussed tattoos and world politics with a couple of guys (this is of course 100% the truth) In addition to this we all discovered that James Blunt is much improved when accompanied by hot naked ladies something which we would recommend to all!

The following day Maura went off to work feeling slightly worse for ware, while we lounged around and played Playstation, enjoying the fact we were in a house for the first time since we left home.

That evening we were promised exotic meats, and this is what we got in spades! We were taken to a restaurant that speciality was unusual cuts of meat, from camel to zebra, which is exactly what we had. After a great feed we went off to the local bar where we met a host of new pals, watched football and imbibed many calories before going back to our new pad. The other guy in the picture is Nien Pinal Novo's friendly neighbourhood tattoist, another regular features of our adventures there.

Reading it back this seems like a quiet night however it did end up with the worst bodybuilding competion of all time






On the third day in Pinal Novo we decided to have a beach day where the excess of the previous night caused us all to fall into a deep sleep the moment our heads hit sand. Refreshed and revitalised Maura took us out to a town nearby (cant remember the name sorry but it began with M!) where a local festival was on celebrating the mighty bull. As it turned out Bendigo showed it was not so mighty after all, sending out a message to bulls everywhere, your all pussies so bring it on, bold words indeed! He did however require some assistance so I think he may have bitten off more than he can chew

The town was bustling with revellers out for a good time some of whom we recruited for our photos, some who didn't mind and others who for some reason were scared by Iain's semi naked body. It was all agreed that we should head home and have an early night so that we could do the bull run in the morning, however we all seemed to gravitate towards the other option of drinking as much as possible, saying that the bull run would be easy and that we would get up for it. The reality of this approach can probably best be demonstrated with this picture;

We would not run with the bulls after all, which was disappointing but it was Nathan's birthday so a promising night was in store. As it happened it was also Helders birthday on the same day so we knew it was going to be a big one. We proceeded to race Maura's impreza with Harriot, to a seaside town and miraculously overtook him, to his amazement and shock.

Upon arrival a feast of sorts, was quickly devoured by all and then it was onto what we do best, a tour of the local bars and many shots. Apart from Bendigo, the designated driver, who was still suffering fom guilt after his run in with a tyre and a smart car (that is all that can be said on that matter).



Iain filled in for a stoned barman and showed off his skills as a bar tender while the manager was busy throwing out a one armed drunk and Nathan enjoyed the eye candy of the many Brasilian beauties that roamed the streets. Chris however was up to his old tricks of slipping away and crashing where ever he could, this time in the back of Harriot.

The pace of the Portugeese was testing for some.

So, with four days of debourtury under our belts, it was time to bid farewell to our new friends and head for cheaper shores. Morocco was calling...............

Our Inspiration and theme song

Damm you Bob Hope and Bing Crosby its all yourt fault we are here! Its just so catchy you forget how cheesy this film is

Mundaka

After the frivolities in San Sebastien we headed up the coast a small way to one of the top surf spots in the whole of Europe at Mundaka, a sleepy little town at the mouth of an enourmous inlet from the sea.

After a short drive we found the campsite, and as much as I like sleeping in a tent next to Bendigo and Iain likes sleeping in the cab (he is not allowed a tent as he snores to loudly) we elected to splash out on cabin and enjoy a real bed for the first time in two weeks. I say a real bed however as we found out three of the beds were in a sort of bunk bed formation and these are not quite as fun as you remember them being when you were eight!

This not to say it was a bad place to stay, as you can see from the picture the view was rather a good one and as an added bonus they had free internet which in hindsight we probably should have used to update the blog but Iain and Nathan were more interested in the football scores.

After setling in Bendigo and Nathan went down to check out the surf, while Iain showed the effects of the previous few days calorie intake and crashed out. While the surf looked good from a distance, it was stronger than it appeared and Bendigo found this out being swept a long way into the inlet before stuggling to get back. Emerging from the water like a weary cross channel swimmer except without being covered in whale fat, Nathan kindly declined the offer to take the board out, citing the wetsuit as being too small, having a cold, not feeling well and generally looking at the floor and kicking imaginary dust out of the way.

Exploring the town afterwards we latched on to two fellow travellers Shaun (Heineken to his mates) and Kate from Tazmania and brought them up to the campsite for a meal (Iain is currently pressuring me into telling all that he was doing the cooking!) and some beers, all was civilised until one of the team made a bold announcement.

Not learning from what happened the last time Bendigo took it upon himself to invite two Irish lads, Dennis and Collum the campsite to share a few jars which as it turned out was just as entertaining as the last time we did it just a few days previously. As you can imagine the pace gradually picked up until we were on the red wine, vodka and possibly several cleaning products!

I might add at this juncture that I blame most of this night on the beers we bought from Lidl (where mum's go when Iceland's too expensive) for 24 cents a tin!

Of course the travelling stories got going along with all the other banter including Shaun telling us how he got the nickname 'Heineken' most of which we have on tape but is a bit on the long side, I'll just say it involves a usual party activity, a bottle top, bread, cordial, an x ray, and a wooden spoon! If you can figure out what happened, answers on a postcard to the usual address and a free taxi ride could be yours!

All in all a seriously good night even if we did end up sprawled on the floor!

Next stop a seriously long drive, the need for a personal soundtrack composer, and Portugal!

San Sebastien

Hello once again we are slowly getting towards our current location, next up San Sebastien, Spain, a place so good even the King goes there on his holidays

After the poor weather in France and with a passenger in tow we headed down the coast toward Spain and San Sebastien a town renowned for its food, party atomosphere, and as we found out a strong desire to not be a part of Spain anymore but more of that later.

It seems however that the curse of Jonah had struck again as we arrived in San Sebastien to overcast skies that looked like rain, and a biting wing worthy of the Big Market on a saturday night for those of you who have ever been to Newcastle! Skies aside we faced a more immediate problem, finding somewhere to stay and a space to park the cab that did not require an expedition of Stanley-esqe proportions to reach. The problem was compounded by the fact that with a population of just over 400,000 it seems that every single one of these people owns at least one car that is parked on the street. We would later discover there was another reason there was no parking, but until then we faced a challange of biblical proportions to find a space. Doing as the locals did and parking in the middle of the road to try and find a spot to stay we found another problem as there was no accomodation to be had anywhere in the old town. However things began to look up when a lady told us about a place over the other side of the river that had room and would be cheap.

This seemed to good to be true, and of course it was. The nice old lady pictured on the left (possibly, you get the idea anyway!) swiftly turned into a negotiator that would have turned the Dragons Den into whimpering children wanting to charge us a small fortune for a very basic room. Just goes to show no matter how nice they appear or how many Werthers originals they offer you, old people will always try to stitch you up (Iain is of course excluded from this general classification as is my Nan). After a quick sandwich in the street we moved on to the campsite at the top of the hill over the town at Ignelo. After setting up camp, we headed to the on site bar for some tapas and a quiet night in, how wrong we were!

Like a scene from a bad disaster movie we should have seen it coming, we should have seen the signs but we missed them all. As an educational service to all if you see these men; be prepared to imbibe your own body weight in booze. Ron (pictured right) and Jamie (yes the one in the monkey hat, see how we missed the signs!), two Irish athletes in training for Oktoberfest, took us and the night onto a different level. What followed was a steady increase in blood alcohol levels, stories, jokes, our Finnish fare getting completley bamboozled by Irish accents not to mention the humour bouncing back and forth. Needless to say we moved from the bar where you can see we were reasonably sober;



via this

ending up somewhere around here

The next day we awoke to larger than average hangovers, apart from Bendigo (or so he claims!) but were determined to make the most to the sunshine which had finally elected to make an appearence. After a short bus ride we found a sight that we did not expect to see in a sleepy holiday distination, riot police in full gear holding a variety of extremely dangerous looking weapons! As you can see from the picture on the right hand side, old people cannot be trusted as these two were the ringleaders of the whole affair! It seems we had arrived right in the middle of a period of instabilty in Basque politics with the supreme court of Spain ruling two of the areas political parties as illegal. This as you can imagine did not go down well, hence the police presence, but in typical Basque fashion ended with one great big party. This also was partly to blame for the lack of parking and accomodation. After getting in a bit of surfing and seeing the Spanish version of S club 7 featuring what looked like Bertie Basset ( I had heard he had gone downhill but this...) we hit the town for poo's and grins and kalimocho (red wine and coke).

Staying in the old town we hopped from bar to bar. Bendigo threw out an assortment of shapes on the dancefloor, agreed to meet a girl in Bristol the following week to teach her English and anything else he felt she needed to know, Iain went limbo dancing, was asked if he was our dad, and lauching forth into a bizzare rendition of singing in the rain with a broken umbrella,

meanwhile Nathan consumed the kalimocho and lept onto an abandoned stage to pretend to be Bono without any of the style or charity work. Chris on the other hand tried to keep up with the pace of our drinking ( apparently they have not heard of binge drinking in Finland yet!) and searched unsuccesfully for "chicas" with dubious morals.

With the night over Iain entertained the taxi rank with more dancing, Bendigo lay down for a nap and Nathan had to live up to English steroetypes and was caught short in the street.

We did however get sight of our glittering prize some 2000 odd miles away, the desert, hopefully we can still get there for real!

Next up Mundaka and a very long drive to Portugal.

(There will also be a few more videos added to this post as soon as we find a decent connection)

Biarritz Update

Hello once again, my apologies again for the slow rate of updates but finding a good internet connection in morocco is a little bit hard, and for some strange reason I would rather be outside in the sun!

As we left you last we were leaving archaron and heading for Biarritz hopefully for some sun, however the curse of Bendigo and his rain making skills struck again and we arrived to grey skies and english like drizzle. This however would not dimish our high spirits as we were now in one of the best surfing and party towns in the south of France.

Finding a campsite was easy, however on arrival Nathan soon realised that it was the same one that he had run away from two years ago without paying for several nights! Thankfully there was no wanted poster in the reception so we quickly set up camp, cleaned ourselves up and headed for town.

Finding the town packed as always we set about doing what the English do best, drinking, followed by increasingly more elaborate means of drinking with a few games, much to the confusion of the straight laced Swiss group next to us! I think Iain may have lost the previous game judging by his expression!

Looking back with rose tinted glasses of hindsight, which of course is a wonderful thing this was to prove to be somewhat of a mistake! Sorry I meant to say the best possible course of action as of course the crew of Sahara Cabs do not make mistakes!

After meeting a variety of English people on a similar mission to us, the majority of whom were a hen party, and many friendly locals who thankfully spoke very good english we encountered our very first celebrity of the tour. See the picture below for details and an exciting competition!

I forgot to mention that the girl on the left hand side of the picture here, left that evening with a special memento to remember us by. Bendigo decided to share the Sahara Cabs love by tattoing our web address on her arm. However he got a bit carried away, and opted to use what would have been about a size 140 font covering her arm. Still she didnt seem too bothered.... Anyway back to the celeb.

If anyone can tell us who this former French international is, a free fare of up to 16 Dirhams will be available as a reward! As you can see from the picture Iain used to play rugby too, after all they practically look like twins, in a kind of Danny Devito and Arnie sort of way!

After the bars drew to a close we hit the alledgedly world famous Playboy club to throw some shapes. To our amazement not only did they allow us in (after rather alot of calories!) but they thought we fitted the club so well they allowed us in free of charge!

This is where the evening went so right and yet so wrong! Nathan managed to bag himself a very attractive lady (just look at the smug bastard!) by the name of Sarah, which he claims as fate given the similarity of her name and the final destination and company name of Sahara! Iain on the other hand was good and fought off the ladies with a large and very dangerous looking stick, instead choosing to improve Anglo French relations by talking to every single person in the club. Bendigo on the other hand found love of a different kind, with the barman taking rather a shine to him and plying him with free shots. Don't worry girls the boy is not for turning, so please continue sending in the fanmail to the usual address.

Taking a break from attempting to undo several hundred years of bad blood between the English and French, Iain showed us and everyone his party piece,( no, not that one Kate!) his amazing pole dancing ability. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I think this little lot are worth rather more!

All in all it was a rather succesful night!

The morning however was a different affair altogether! Despite this we did manage to acomplish several things. Iain went for his first surf, albeit on a red flagged beach much to the disgust of the lifeguards, who may or may not have looked like this....

We also set about some maintainence to cure a rather wet fuse box caused by a blocked drainage pipe. This was done in typical fashion by poking it with some wire, hitting it, blowing into it and of course swearing at it until it was clear. Iain says it was the poking that did it, but Bendigo and Nathan are convinced it was the swearing, Bendigo especially can be very intimidating when he wants to be!

The final act of the day was to pick up a Finn by the name of Chris, our first official fare! We are not sure but we think that these two may have been seperated at birth.

Chris

Mugatu

As the weather was still a bit rubbish and lots of things were closed including the sun, so we packed up shop and headed for San Sebastien were we were in for an unexpected suprise.

Apologies for the lack of video but the speed here is rubbish, we will put them up probably when we get to Rabat. (yes i know we are a little behind but we are on holiday!)