In a few days, after a family wedding, I return to Morocco for a short vacation with my wife.
The last time I was there was to train for the Dakar Rally. We rode motor bikes from Fez over the Atlas Mountains and south to Erg Chebbe in the sand dunes.
There, I promptly broke two ribs and a collar bone in a crash that ended my participation on the trip other then in a support vehicle.
This time, rather than creating more tales of derring do, my wife has made me promise to take a vacation.
Instead of nearly killing myself on some remote Saharan terrain, the day will likely consist of drinking copious amounts of Moroccan tea while negotiating the best price we can for a new rug for our house.
Our destination, after spending a few days with family in Gibraltar, is the Moroccan “blue town” of Chefchaouen. We have booked a little guest house in the centre of the medina, a bustling trading centre.
The biggest challenge will be finding our accommodation since every alley looks identical and then every “blue” house in the medina looks pretty much the same too.
Once settled in, the sounds of busy Moroccan life interspersed with the occasional call to prayers make for a wonderful North African experience. The evening routine will likely be a stroll through the medina followed by a typically traditional Moroccan tagine.
After several years without a break together, I am really looking forward to a few days of relaxation with my wife and then back to Canada after having cooled off in Saharan Africa.
This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.