I arrived in Essaouira from Casablanca nearly 3 weeks ago now, but had Linda as a visitor for 2 weeks until yesterday, so have not got my head round this blog until today.There a few minor bits to finish off about Casablanca before I write about Essaouira.

One point to note about the blog. If a picture is too small for you, if you ‘right click’ on it you should be able to save it and then view it with whatever your operating system provides for viewing pictures. Then you can increase the size.

I visited the national Jewish Museum, which was in a very upmarket suburb, in a building which had been a Jewish orphanage after the war, then a school and then unused for decades.

From an actual Synagogue

When the Moroccan constitution was changed in 2000, amongst many other changes, the Hebraic heritage was accorded an inalienable role and this museum was founded.

Bed from an old house – donated by a Jewish family

It has objects and many photos from synagogues and communities across all of Morocco, though almost all Jews left the country in 1960. every remaining synagogue is now conserved, though very few are actually used.

On the way back I took the following photos to illustrate just how obstructed Moroccan pavements can be. Bear in mind that this was a prosperous suburb, with detached houses, all with cars, so not many people were walking about. However all that were walking walked in the road. All the photos were taken in about 300 yards, and are a tiny fraction of all the issues. I think Moroccans regard a pavement as a place that protects the house or garden wall from vehicles, rather than a place where pedestrians can be safe.

This one shows just how high most kerbs are – very good for the leg muscles

And objects just spring up out of the ground

You can extend your garden and dry the washing

I think this is a fire hydrant

And why not build a shed?

Note that these pavements are virtually free of litter – at least some Moroccans know not to drop everything everywhere. Essaouira actually has some street cleaners, so in general it is not a bad as Casablanca. However households just put plastic sacks of rubbish out for collection (a man on a motor tricycle with a cart on the back comes round daily and collects it where I am staying), but as there are countless stray cats and hungry seagulls around, they are often split before collection, and then blow all over the place in the strong winds.

I also went to look at the outside of the Royal Palace, but was shouted at by the military when I tried to take a photo of anything more than a blank wall. No King in residence, but every approach fully guarded by some very bored looking men and a few women.

I changed my original plan to fly to Essouira and arrived on a bus. I was met at the bus depot as this house is very difficult to find until you know where it is. The young man who met me turned up on a motor bike. Bit of a problem for carrying luggage. Fortunately my Osprey case has rucksack straps concealed behind a zipped panel. So he carried it on his back, whilst I perched on the far back of the passenger seat with his small backpack between me and my case, my daypack on my back and my arms clutching my case for support. It is about 55 years since I last rode on a motorbike. It was only about a mile, and the streets were quiet, so all was well. Incidentally the law in Morocco requires the driver to wear a crash helmet, but not any passenger(s) – I have seen 3 adults on 1 bike!

As a taster of Essaouira, here are Linda and I on camels. We rode along the beach for just under an hour. Linda got the handsome camel.

Now I need to take a few interesting photos of Essaouira before the next time I post.