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Day 66, 8 September 2012, Marrakech, Morocco. If the Beatles sung about it, you know it must be good. We had a lovely flight to Marrakech in quite possibly the tiniest plane Iberian Airways owns - long, but skinny. The benefit of business class was not having our knees jammed up against the seat in front - but as it was 2+2 across the body of the plane, from the pointy end to the tail, elbow room was at a premium. Never mind! Cava to the rescue and a fabulous lunch.... hmmmm pasta! Arriving in Marrakech we suddenly remembered the intensely bright African light and it was certainly warmer than Turkey. No visa payments required, so it was a great place to visit from the very beginning. Whilst there are cheaper ways to do it, no doubt, we ponied up for a taxi transfer organised by the most beautiful riad in Marrakesh. Luckily. We'd still be looking for our lodgings in the back alleys of the medina otherwise. Somewhat hilariously we hooned from the airport in a Mercedes taxi that had seen better days 20 years ago. Still a Mercedes though. Then we stopped outside a massive gate in a wall, essentially in a parking lot. It was in fact, "Le Parking" and indeed a parking lot. Our taxi driver jumped out and flagged down an elderly man with a large handcart. Our massive packs went into this oversized wheelbarrow and with instructions to follow him, we did just that. Stay to the Right. Stay to the Right. Hug the wall. Stay to the Right. Breathe. Breathe. That's right - we're smack in the middle of a motorcycle grand-prix. One after another mopeds, push bikes and 125cc sewing machines ducked and weaved past us as we negotiated the back alleys of the Medina (or old city, inside the city walls). Up the alley, turn left at the sign, straight past the "I love Marrakech" graffiti. Right at the black and white cat. Left at the litter of ginger cats. Right at the white cat. Alors - we are there - The handcart fellow knocked on the door and in the manner of a Saint opening pearly gates, the doors to heaven were opened and we were out of the dust and into picture postcard Moroccan lodgings. Riad Les Jardins Mandoline is painted brilliant white on the inside and a aqua blue tiled plunge pool is the centre piece of the inner courtyard. Our room, Iman, is tiny but perfect and everything is in place - towels, toiletries and the softest of beds. We are even briefed on how to get to and from the main square - with a cheat sheet map that shows photographs of what we should see as we make our way to and from the main square - Djemma el Fna. Just too good. It is fortunate I learned a little French prior to the trip, because to say some French is spoken in Morocco is like saying some English is spoken on the BBC. It is turning out to be invaluable just for basic getting around purposes. Today's time change meant 7 pm felt like 9 pm (at least). So having done nothing but eat and drink all day, we gave dinner a miss and settled for a kit-kat in bed before lights out. Without wanting to state the obvious, tomorrow is another day and Marrakech awaits.
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Joan Hi Guys ,I am in love with this place,its so beautiful ,I could shop well here,Fab place you are staying ,im green with envy