Oui oui Monsieur - after a tiny break of… well… 10 years, we are revisiting the beautiful, windswept blue and white city of Essa'oui'ra on the coast of Morocco. Well eventually we revisited - but in these PC (post-covid) trying travelling times, it was not without drama.

So many years of blissful, more or less, on time travel came to a grinding halt with the overnight stop in Lisbon and it made us think connecting flights were more risk than were worth. Remember how we said next time we'd bite the Ryanair bullet and fly direct? This time we were up. We were at 'em. We were also a tiny bit hungover and deathly tired when we got to Malaga airport at 2.50 am. Check-in opened at 3.15 am (well 3.23 am… Spanish time). We were checked-in, relieved of our bags, trundled over to the Ryanair Service Desk (oh go on… it's a bit funny), we had our documents checked to ensure we could fly to Morocco without a visa. We had our boarding passes stamped as proof. (Seriously - how does every other airline in the world manage to accomplish this daunting task at the same time as they check you in and take your bags?) Right. Didn't need our €6 odd extra for fast-track security as it wasn't open, the airport was almost empty and we were through security almost immediately. Right away we were tempted by the entrancing smell of hot bread and toasted cheese wafting from a massive and very popular cafe. Price-wise - Lisbon airport this was not! We instead set up camp near an info screen and delved into our own ham and cheese rolls, fruit salad and cold pizza - James's Airport Catering Department hits it out of the park every, single time. Eventually we had our gate info (B-block - for non-Schengen departures), went through Immigration, were stamped out of Schengen-zone and settled in with a very acceptable machine coffee to wait for boarding at 5.30 am. So far, so good. Efficient boarding (the paid for benefit of priority boarding was well worth it). Yada, yada, yada… onto the plane eventually and on track for 6.15 am wheels up. I even messaged our driver in Essaouira that we were off and we'd see him at 6.40 am local time. The cabin lights were dimmed for takeoff, we taxied to the runway, James was already asleep. Then the wheels, albeit metaphorically, fell off. We taxied to empty part of the tarmac and the cabin lights were turned up. b*****. Even James knew when he opened his eyes… Toto, we still be in Kansas.

There you have it. If it's Boeing, we're probably not going. There was a light in the cockpit that either was or was not lit up. A technical difficulty. Don't worry - technical types driving over to fix it. Door open, masks off (which was sensible… since they weren't required at all in the airport). The fresh scent of av. gas flooding the plane whenever someone else's plane took off near by. Techs turned up. Did technical, fixy things. Signed off. Left. Briefly. Turned up again when it was a problem again. Another Ryanair plane parked up next to us - we all, including the crew, thought it was our replacement plane. Nope. Just another brand new Boeing 737-Max 8 (shudder) that wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't our day. In fairness, it wasn't really Ryanair's day either. Lucky we had had our breakfast… from the b****in' on the plane it was clear a lot of people were planning to eat when they landed in Marrakech at stupid-o'clock.

Almost 3 hours after we embarked the plane, we debarked at gate B20 (Departures side… which made not a blind bit of sense). No info on the plane, apparently there'd be info when we got off. Incorrect info when we got off - need to collect bags and re-check-in landside. Nope. Checked with the handling agents in baggage claim area - bags were staying airside for the new plane. Probably. Had to explain to Immigration why we were coming through their section in the wrong direction. Only 100 or so people. We broke the land speed record back through the airport to reach the 10 am chaos at the Ryanair Check-in area. Went to the service desk as instructed (they hadn't heard and weren't expecting the invasion), finally had a senior sounding person tell us to go to the checkin desk - a particular number - so we went there. Had another agent in fits as one of the hundreds in the regular check-in queue was complaining bitterly that we'd jumped the queue (she hadn't heard either but was up to date by the time I'd finished with her and pointed out the senior person who'd sent us to that desk). Identical boarding passes reissued with the hopeful departure time on them of 6.15 am. When's it actually leaving? Hadn't heard. Look at the screens. Take care. Okey Dokey. If it wasn't quite 'que?' a la Manuel in Fawlty Towers, the situation was definitely Que-Adjacent.

And we were off. Deja-vu all over again. This time the Fast-Track Security came into it's own. By 10 am Malaga Airport was heaving and the regular security queue was diabolical. We were through in no time, went to see our 'usual' guy at Immigration… got stamped out again, went back to the B gates and stared at the screen. Must admit in this day and age if you're not flying with a smart phone and using it constantly, you'd be stuffed. Our flight never showed up on the screen but according to the ever-reliable Ryanair app it was going to depart at midday from good old gate B20. We were staring at the phone when, woo-hoo!, we got a message that we had been issued vouchers of €4 each to spend on food and drink - just by scanning our boarding passes. Progress! Well food or drink (prices are airport standard eye-watering…). We got a fresh orange juice and a fruit salad between us and still shelled out 70 cents extra. But better than a poke in the eye. We read. We sat. We watched the hordes and stared at the phones. It was worth the 70 cents to sit in a comfy cafe area. We saw folks off our flight wandering about looking mostly lost and/or glassy eyed with tiredness. We looked at the app to make sure our flight wasn't going to disappear on us. In the end we found out they had tasked the plane and crew that had already flown Marrakech to Bordeaux earlier that day to fly down to Spain, pick us all up and take us to Marrakech. Bless! As much as we love Spain, a night in a hotel and redoing check-in/bags/document check/immigration palaver again the next day just wasn't an option.

At 12 noon - no plane. 12.30 pm - no plane. 12.45 pm - yes plane - but no where to land it as we were a completely unscheduled flight. There was a lot of 'que?' in the background we suspect. 1.15 pm we were locked and loaded and finally departing on our 6.15 am flight - 7 hours is nothing in the current scheme of flight disruptions and it was a smooth flight in the end. Smooth entry (PCR tests were checked which is good), eventually we were ensconced in the slowest queue out of 12 at Moroccan immigration. We had, quite possibly, the most efficient/thorough (or least efficient/PITA) officer but he eventually let us in. Seriously. The flight that landed after us was getting processed in 11 other queues. But we got there. And our poor damn driver who'd arrived from Essaouira to meet our 6.40 am flight was still there. Legend! Never ever underestimate a man-with-a-sign at arrivals.

Suffice to say - Having gotten up around 2 am, it was now 3 pm in Morocco and the trip was barely started - a 3 hour drive to Essaouira was yet to come and our eye-balls were falling out. Fortunately we had a great driver. Between the donkeys, scooters, daft drivers, dangerous drivers, road works and police-because-we-can check points… we made it to Essaouira in one piece, met a nice porter called Ibrahim (everyone knows everyone at 'Le Parking') and hiffed all our bags into his chariot for the last 5 minutes to the palatial, the sublime, it's a big birthday celebration - Riad Mumtaz Mahal. Drum Roll please.

Oh my stars and whiskers! It was even more beautiful, even more palatial, even more just fabulous than the photos online. We took the best room in the house, The Mahajabian Suite and settled in for two weeks of sleeping in the Alhambra Palace.

We loved Essaouira the first time we visited in 2012 and we are still entranced by it. As part of the King's Covid economic recovery programme, works are being carried out all over Morocco and we were fascinated to see dusty, broken up sections of the roads being cleared, recobbled and ready to go every single day. Doors were getting replaced, awnings redone and entire facades-to-nowhere being re-plastered and refinished. There may well be a falling down bomb-site behind it, but the facade will be sublime. If there's any money left in the kitty after all this fixing up, we'd love to see it repurposed to veterinary jobs on the kitties. Morocco is quite literally a country carpeted in cats. If a determined vet neutered and spayed 50 a day in Essaouira alone, they'd still be breeding. Heartbreaking most of the time.

We have both cast our minds back 10 years (boy, have we covered some ground since then!) Neither of us recalled being particularly blown away by Moroccan food back then. We hunted, we paid, we got something that didn't make us sick and we stayed on a very fine budget. Aside from a couple of pizzas with fresh OJs and sunsets… the food was just not that flash. It's gotten better and/or we've gotten a lot better at finding it. Firstly, our riad. Breakfast is included and may be taken on the terrace or in one's room. On morning one we hived up to the terrace only to find, well, nothing… no hustle, no bustle, no trays loaded with delicious delights. We actually thought we might have somehow gone to the wrong terrace. We tootled back down to reception and enquired about breakfast on the terrace. Oh yes! Definitely. We enquired if there was a different terrace we had somehow missed. Nope. The process is to request brekkie, then it all gets trayed up and either taken up via elevator or shanks's ponied up four large flights of stairs. So we enjoyed it on the terrace on day one and then luxuriated in dining a la chambre for the rest of our two week stay. Every day. In your room? Yes. Tea or coffee? Coffee. With milk? Yes. Now? Yes. Well meaning service, but we are not complicated - almost the same time every day too. But lovely - fresh, fresh, fresh. And generous. So much so that we usually set aside our baguettes after butttering them and then ate them with our egg for lunch. Magic. And that just left dinner. Well.

On our first night, after the travel day that just would not quit, we went for a walk. James had done some restaurant research, so much easier 10 years down the track. He had a short list of cheap and cheerful, well reviewed local joints and we hit pay-dirt on our very first place. Chez Omar - AKA our new dining room for the next two weeks. To reach it we headed down a skeevy, geezer infested alley way (mind you, when we finished we headed down the alley at the other end of the dining zone… darker, grimier and even less prepossessing). We enjoyed a bubbling hot and flavourful lamb and prune tagine and a chicken cous cous, accompanied by fresh OJ. So good. One of the scrummiest Moroccan meals we've ever had. Despite the large assortment of cats strewn in the immediate area of Chez Omar, the incessant dust, the flies and the carpentry shop, we enjoyed dinner at Omar's for 11 nights out of 14. We eventually transferred our dinner-circus up to the tiny roof terrace (less cats thus less chance of being marked as some tom cat's territory. Go on… ask how we found out.) We splurged 3 times at a super Italian pizzeria, Taverna al Maurizio - even with turkey ham instead of piggy ham, the pizzas were amazing. It was like stepping through a portal to old Napoli - red and white checked tablecloths, candles - the works - and gave us the chance to try some very acceptable Moroccan cabernet from the Meknes region. Well we tried a bottle on the first visit… and just to make sure, tried a couple more bottles on subsequent visits. Yep. Still good.

With breakfast and lunch at the riad and dinner admirably dealt with between Omar and the pizza joint, that left only the little matter of nightly dessert. Enter, the Ice Cream guys. At the very beginning of Essaouira's second main street in the medina was a corner shop, with a pumping side business of ice-cream parlour. Many evenings we partook of gelato in assorted flavours including coffee, pistachio, hazelnut and Snickers. Some nights they even had waffle cones, but they were patently far too popular and seemed to run out frequently. 8 Dirhams for a boule / scoop… so 80 euro cents or A$1.20. Very affordable indeed as treats go. If it wasn't a gelato night we had a small cake shop that also did the trick - even more reasonably at 4 dirhams per cake… which did two people, two sittings. The baklava was divine - this is most definitely not a country to have nut-allergies in. Or any other allergies for that matter. Our only other excuse for food shopping was picking up some fruit at the local market with various levels of price padding to account for the fact that it's pretty obvious we're not from around here. Still. Not too bad.

So aside from the breakfasts, lunches, dinners and desserts… other highlights of stunning Essaouira? The views - of all descriptions. The wild and woolly coast with waves slamming against the city walls.The sunsets from the ramparts. The hustling and bustling fishing port with seagulls the size of pterodactyls and battalions of p**** cats on hand as clean up crew. Doing our 6.30 am beach walk 5 km return and arriving home to breakfast. The colour, sounds and shopping opporunties of the medina itself.

Speaking of shopping, Essaouira is the place to be. In our absence and due in great part to Covid and no visitors for 2 years, suddenly price tags are more prevalent. By no means ubiquitous but they actually exist now which makes the shopping process that little bit less sapping. Before we arrived we had serious and committed conversations about not buying wood or art. We managed not to buy art at least (though the purchases from 2012 now hang proudly in our Sydney apartment, and the artist is definitely still in business - we visited his studio and showed him pictures of his pictures on our walls). Due to the gorgeous thuya wood boxes and candle holders only costing 1-2 euro each… well, we gave in. The scent is intoxicating and the wood we bought a decade ago still smells as exotic as it ever did - and they were so small! We realised when we set up our Sydney apartment during our stay in Australia how much pleasure our travelling treasures gave us - so we're less bothered this time around - they'll make it back to Sydney sooner or later and one way or another. We picked up some small ceramics, a scarf in a silk cotton blend and at the end of our stay (of course) an upcycled Brazillan coffee sack, turned into a zippered bag - so we could travel to Marrakech without doing a 'hard pack' (that pleasure is reserved for flights when there's no extra baggage to be had). Essaouira to Marrakech was but a 3 hour private car ride - the ultimate soft pack situation.

The trinkets took very little from our daily budget in Essaouira. Omar was about 120 dirhams a night and pizza was 300 odd - it all averaged out to the budgeted 200 dirhams / €20 a day. The big guns came out in the jewellery stores and we both acquired some new treasures after some hard core haggling. James was told by one vendor he was like a Berber man and we're not entirely sure it was a compliment. We enjoyed wearing our new treaures in the relaxed vibe of Essaouira but will tuck them away when we hit the big smoke of Marrakesh - no point in inviting scrutiny - it is perfectly clear to the local vendors that by the simple virtue of being here, we are loaded and should be charged accordingly. C'est la vie.

My birthday was celebrated with dinner at the pizza joint, and a luxurious afternoon at our riad's hammam. Having an onsite hammam was one of the many reasons we chose this property - it was lovely to be 100% relaxed and pampered and then just trundle upstairs for a kip. There was even a surprise birthday cake and candles delivered to my room. Truly the most memorable of birthdays and the whole month of May was essentially birthday month - but definitely birthday fortnight to the max here in Essaouira.

With the subject of packing having already been raised, clearly our time in Essaouira was over all too soon. And there, we had been worried that two weeks would be too long. A couple of days before we left we decided to fit in another visit to our hammam (especially given our Marrakesh riad only has a shower - but - does have a swimming pool - so swings and roundabouts). Using our newly acquired Brazilian-coffee-sack-bag, packing was a breeze and it was, all too soon, our last night (pizza) and our last breakfast (in the room, with coffee and milk). We had thought we'd have time for a stroll before we checked out at midday - but no, we took our time and our very own porter Ibrahim aka Mr Australia, was waiting at the door. Our driver, Hamza was at the parking and, like a well oiled military operation, we were off to Marrakech.