In early June, other members of the family wanted to go for a jaunt as well.

Morocco was still closed to almost all foreign tourists, but the government was encouraging internal tourism. As most Moroccans only have holidays in July and August, we were some of the few people available to be encouraged!

In the photo above are Soufia – an aunt of Assia, Wafaa – a younger sister of Assia, Assia and Jamel. They are dressed for a walk on the beach. Soufia is the same age as some of Assia’s older siblings.

After much discussion we decided to visit the Mediterranean coast, starting on the Algerian border in the extreme north east of the country and then working our way westwards along the coast.

The family network was used to find us a vehicle and driver for about 10 days. So one day we hired a man with a barrow to haul our luggage to the road just outside the Medina to meet the transport. We were expecting a minibus, so the ladies had brought just about everything bar the kitchen sink as there were only to be 5 of us. Unfortunately the network let us down and what arrived was a 7 seater people carrier with a roof rack. After some discussion the inevitable was accepted, everything was squeezed in and we set off for a journey of about 350 miles, arriving at Saidia just before the curfew descended.

Saidia is a newish beach resort right on the Algerian border, which has been closed since about 1990 due to a dispute between Algeria and Morocco.

There is a small river between the wire fence and the wall on the Algerian side, where the flags are

We stayed in a large flat about a mile from the village centre, separated from the beach by a road, a strip of woodland and some sand dunes.

The headland in the distance is in Algeria

Saidia would be a good place for a beach holiday with small children, but there was nothing in the village apart from a few cafes and restaurants, and nothing to do except sit on the beach. The beach extends at least 6 miles westwards with golden sand. Much of the development seems to be holiday ‘villages’ for groups such as railway workers, and it may be they have some entertainment inside their compounds.

After lunch we drove an hour up river towards Oujda, the main town of the region. Due to stopping for an hour in a small village with many stalls and shops selling kitchen equipment, we arrived at Oujda at the same time as a thunderstorm, so after a cup of mint tea we went straight back to Saidia.

I was rapidly learning that getting a group of my ‘Moroccan family’ to decide how to spend a day actually used up much of the day, and frequently resulted in having to find a depot to send the most recent purchases back to Rabat, as there was no spare room in the car.

Next day we drove to the foothills of the nearby Rif mountains.

Assia managed to persuade a stallholder to make her some tea

Taforat, the village we went to, had a small set of stalls, mainly selling herbs and local basket wares, but the cafe was closed as were the nearby caves, though we found a Mouflon Reserve.

The mouflon are very well protected and the information centre was closed, so that is about all we found out about them.

Between Taforat and Zegsel; en route back to the coast; we never stopped just to take photos.

We stopped to buy some loquats from a group of 3 young men sitting by the roadside. I suspect we were their only customers that day.

The other 2 hid when I asked for a photo, but this guy was enjoying himself.

Loquats must have been introduced by the French as a possible commercial crop, as this area had very large numbers of trees. This was near the end of the short season, so we bought a bucketful.

We ended up at Cap de l’Eau further west along the coast where there is a small fishing harbour, and where we found a fish restaurant with excellent fresh fish.

The next day was devoted to Oujda. Only an hour away, we did not arrive until noon, when my companions immediately disappeared into the Mosque for Friday Prayers, when they get a sermon as well. This was the only occasion I noted that any female members of the family actually went to a Mosque. Most of the time Mosques were excluding women to allow social distancing (1 metre apart) and only men are obliged to actually visit Mosques. Women can perform all their prayers privately. Public notices are often given out in the Mosques, so the women must depend on the men to keep them informed, particularly in rural areas.

This man is wearing the turban traditional to the Oujda area

Most of Oujda was closed as Friday is their equivalent of our Sunday, and we were in a relatively remote area. It used to be the centre of a large agricultural region, spanning the border with Algeria, but since the 1990s it only serves half of its hinterland, so is not doing very well.

We did not find a satisfactory restaurant open, so on the way back we stopped at a sort of roadhouse for our main meal. One buys meat at a butchers stall just outside and it is cooked and served with bread and some salad (if you insist). Our group of 5 bought over 5 lbs of assorted meats, and ate the lot! They only ordered enough salad for 2 people, and I suspect that if I had not been there, they would just have eaten grilled meat and bread.

On Saturday we headed west along the coast to our next destination, El Hoceima, about 125 miles to the west.

En route we passed through the village of Rouadi where a weekly market was in progress.

El Hoceima was developed about 1925 by Spanish General Sanjurjo after the Spanish invasion of 1921. It was originally named after him, becoming El Hoceima on independence in 1956. It is a Berber populated area.

It reminded me somewhat of Llandudno, being built around a high promontory / peninsula.

The harbour is a relatively new development

We stayed the other side of the peninsula.

Wafaa, Soufia and Jamel bringing in the shopping

We had the 2nd floor flat, with excellent views along the coast. The first night there was a spectacular thunderstorm, and the resultant heavy rain brought enormous quantities of clay soil into the sea and onto the road along the shore line.

The view from my window next morning. The sea is normally blue.

Our house was at the top of all the steps.

The council cleared the mud off the road by the end of the day.

This was taken looking west from the corniche. It is not always sunny in Morocco!

We had been told there was a lovely bay at a place called Cala Iris, so we set off. Turned out to be 40 miles to the west, though it was described as one of El Hoceima’s 5 beaches. It was indeed lovely, but almost everything was closed, it was quite small and there were 2 coach loads of school children enjoying the beach and the swimming.

Although there is a small new harbour, there is no fish to be had after 6 am as it goes straight to large markets elsewhere in Morocco, so after about half an hour, we went back to El Hoceima.

At the harbour in El Hoceima we found 4 stalls selling fish straight off the boats, and 2 large restaurants cooking them. I had the best swordfish steak I think I will ever eat.

The rest of the day we wandered around El Hoceima, which has all the necessary shops for a large hinterland of over 100,000 people, but has virtually nothing by way of entertainment. There are some luxury hotels, and they probably have private swimming pools. The remaining 4 beaches were all very small, and must be unbelievably overcrowded during July and August. We only found one place open to sell us an ice cream!

There was a lot of construction going on, both of housing and places to sit and admire the views.

Our next destination was Chefchouaen, which I had already visited and written about in December 2020.

En route, we drove through more of the Rif Mountains, which seemed to me to be ideal for older Brits for walking holidays, as the countryside is undulating and interesting. We stopped for lunch at El Jebha, a coastal village I would have liked to spend a few days in, provided I had a car and my walking boots.

Near the harbour at El Jebha.

Chefchouaen was still lacking tourists, though the weather was of course better than in December.

We then went to Fes, which I had visited about 4 years before, so I did not take any photos.

One piece of advice is to never attempt to go directly between Chefchouaen and Fes (a distance of about 125 miles) as all the roads are dreadful. We went by the shortest, and it might have been reasonable in a 4×4, but in a normal vehicle we were probably averaging less than 20 mph most of the way, and there was nothing of interest to stop for. We went that way because we were advised that the normal route was bad due to road works. One person even advised going back north to the coast and almost back to Rabat before turning inland – a journey of well over 300 miles!

All in all it was an interesting experience, and I got to see parts of Morocco I had never visited, but if you want to see the sights of an area, do not travel with a group of my ‘Moroccan family’, unless you are very, very patient.