By the time I wake up the women are all up preparing breakfast. Again the same routine of washing hands before and after breakfast and the self-prepared bread and butter is superb. I help where I can with Ibuprufen for grandmother’s pains and eye-drops for an old gentleman with a painful eye. Explaining usage instructions regarding frequency of use using the position of the sun for time is always an interesting exercise. We take out the bike and my favorite of the boys comes along for the ride, but he does not last long, so I do not get to take him to school, as his sister had requested. I leave with a heavy heart, the atmosphere of this family so warm and hospitable, and they made me feel so very welcome.

Saida Ikoukalne & Avlaziz, Fatima, Mohammed, Nora, Meliga, Mohammed, Ferid, Abdelzak, Ghadija

I return down the beautiful gorge and follow the river Asif M’Goun all the way back to the main road to Quarzazate. I am driving carefully, conscious of the condition of the back tyre. The road to Marrakech is long with stunning views as it winds its way over the Atlas. The drive gives me time to collect my thoughts.

I have been in Morocco for over a month, and it has been wonderful experience. I will of course return, but as they say, when you travel, you take something with you and you leave something behind. I have made great memories both driving, being close to nature, and my encounters with the people of Morocco. There have been only good experiences, even if some where tough. I have experienced Morocco and it’s Islam as very tolerant of diversity, including alcohol, homosexuality, and even in the cities promiscuity.

The people are friendly, helpful, hustling and hardworking. Family is hugely important, and so is friendship. By the time I make it to Marrakech there is no more time to establish how I will get the back tyre replaced (it needs to be a specific make). But another priority is more urgent, Mikou has warned me of a potential issue with the customs authorities leaving the bike behind while I travel back to Switzerland.

He has also arranged a garage in Marrakech through a friend. A check at the airport and the official explains to me that I have to leave the bike on the airport parking and the key and registration papers with the customs office. If the bike is parked at Mikou’s friend I have to go to the office in the city. A quick decision is needed. While leaving the bike at the open airport parking is not for 1001 Arabian nights, but only for 30, I weigh up my trust in Morocco and enshallah, decide that finding Mikou’s friend and the customs office is too much. So 30 Arabian nights it will be be. At first I decide to spoil myself for the last night and to go to a good hotel. With the somewhat dirty look I drive up to the Sofitel, and once inside, I realize I cannot face this type of tourism at all for the moment, I much prefer the real people of last night.

Back at the hotel Imlilchil I re-arrange the luggage and clean out both panniers to find a thick layer of wet sand at the bottom of the damaged pannier. When I return I will have to give it to one of the local metalworkers, and fill the hole with epoxy steel putty, or better, perhaps a more ornate Moroccan solution. The hotel offers to store the panniers for the time I am away.

Again, enshallah and in God we trust. For my last evening I retrace some steps and have dinner at Djemaa el-Fna. As well as the obligatory jus d’orange, a kawa nuss nuss at Charlot, a visit to African Chic, which has the local working girls going for the promise of a bachelor party’s financial rewards. The barman recognizes me from the previous time and visibly enjoys the fact that I have taken a bike into the desert, which is where he is from.

He recommends the Western Sahara, and I make a mental note to do this sometime with a friend. There is a screaming queen who outshines the showtime the showgirls are putting up working the bachelors party and he recommends I visit a club called Silver, which I pay a visit to observe the locals and tourists, partygoers and professionals enjoying themselves. Morocco is in a state of change, a plurality of levels of religion, wealth, tradition all living side-by-side.