The contrast between inside and outside could not possibly have been greater. Total calm, beside a still, illuminated pool with barely moving palms. A fresh pot of mint tea. Forms to fill in. But also, instantly, nothing to do. The anxiety of not knowing what was to become of us melted into a feelin...

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Slightly scary to be alighting at the Jamaa el Fna with no idea of where the hotel is other the “near the Jemaa el Fna”. Two tourist policemen had no idea either. A boy outside a shoe shop sent us in what turned out to be completely the wrong direction, but smiling. With only the phone number and no...

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No taxi touts? Unthinkable. Not a single shady individual asks where we are going. And the rank, when we get outside, is strangely deserted. A guy asks where we are going. We tell him.

“You can take the bus. There is a strike. they are on strike.”

Pen and paper is all one needs to keep a journal. But to publish those thoughts these days takes the inter-tubes. Despite the plethora of cyber-cafés in Morocco, I decided to go with simplicity and blog my thoughts in unreal time, one week late. So here goes.

Not a great start. Having bought a new...

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Start: 95.4 Last week: 89.3 This week: 88.7
Thursday 12 April: Amazing. No oil, and yet I managed not to gain anything. And I ate couscous every night bar two. So maybe it takes that long for ditto foods to kick in. Or maybe couscous just isn’t that calorific.