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We departed from the height of civilisation in London,flew 3.5 hours south, and arrived in Africa. As always, our Eastjet flight was an experience. Frenzied fellow travellers urgently trying to secure their "rightful" share of overhead locker space and a desirable seat on the plane. Dale and I avoided the first crushing scramble and managed to find seats together halfway down the plane.
After the rigid security at Gatwick airport, stepping off the plane onto the airport Tarmac in Marrakech we were presented with a circus. Disembarking passengers skittering out of the way of ground crew weaving about on baggage carts, lazy eyed security staff milling about exchanging comments with each other, and two flight loads of passengers running the gauntlet between the ground staff and newly arrived tourists to secure their own budget airline seats on the planes standing nearby.
Dale and I caught a beat up old taxi to our hotel, for which I am sure we were grossly overcharged, and checked into our room. It had not been made up (and it was 5pm!) so we dumped our bags and ventured downstairs for a cold drink and to meet the members of our 15 day tour of Morocco.
Perhaps unsurprisingly most of our tour group are young women. There are 5 Australian girls (paramedics from Melbourne), a Kiwi accountant who has been on her London OE. A mother and daughter from an as yet undetermined country - although the daughter has an English accent - a couple from South Africa, and a Polish man.
Dinner was a group affair at the hotel. A delicious Moroccan vegetable soup with crusty bread, chicken tagine, and fresh fruit. Apparently we will eat a lot of tagine on our journey but if the first was an indication of what to expect, then I am not worried. Peas, zucchini, potatoes and olives piled high on a quartered chicken bubbling away in its fragrantly spiced juices - yum!
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