Woke up with bites all over my face, neck, and right hand - and more appeared during the day. No idea what had dine on me - the chosen only one in the group. (Probably bed bugs.) Yoghurt for breakfast watching young boys having a paper plane competition over the edge of the valley towards the river as they walked to school. They inspired our inner children, and we started industriously folding pieces of Vicki’s writing paper. But our paper planes performed far less spectacular stunts than those that prompted us.+
Walked out of the mountains via the opposite side of the valley, past the local toilet lane and down into beautiful green treed areas packed with houses and criss-crossed with tiny creeks. The local school teacher called out and waved as we passed, headed for Umlil, on a tranquil stroll to the sound of running water, with the High Atlas Mountains rearing spectacularly behind us. Kelvin picked us up and we headed back down the winding valley road.
We stopped beside a creek where two Moroccan women were doing their washing. Adri, Ann and I went down to the creek and stripped off for a much-needed, refreshing wash.
Drove back into Marrakesh. No letters. Found out that the post office only keeps mail for two weeks so if Mum wrote it’s probably winging its way back to her already, unread.
Drove on for a couple of hours and finally made camp in a sea of red dirt on the edge of the local salt mines: huge expanse of pans, filled with water and linked by multiple walkways, and several covered salt piles.
We chatted about the Beatles over dinner so Kelvin put his Beatle’s tape on and soon almost everyone was singing along-Vicki, Ann and I went behind the truck to dance, grabbing Nikki for “She Loves You” grand finale. I am quickly losing my fitness being on the truck and was popped when I head to bed, falling asleep to the songs of Cat Stevens.
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