Now back in Marrakech, and we have a ‘suite’ in a charming hotel that can only be described as ‘up a back alley’. But the room is lovely, even with the sounds of Abba coming from the lane outside. We might not find our way back to it, it’s like a rabbit warren round here.
One thing you notice about the Moroccans – they seem to have a thing about toilet doors. This is the third place place where the door is optional, not even a curtain for modesty. Good job that Mel and I are used to living in close proximity!
Now, out to find some new house shoes. Something with a curly toe perhaps?
