Today is a trip to Essaouira. Its about a three hour drive to the coast and along the way we get to see Argan trees. Argan trees are what you get argan oil from. It’s used in all sorts of beauty and food products. In the wild, goats are commonly found in the trees eating the fruit. Now, along the highway, farmer will put the goats in the trees on purpose so tourists stop to take pictures and pay them a few Durham. We stopped and even got to have a baby goat in the van with us. Can you believe that was a first for our tour guide? Geez! Next stop was a women’s co-op what demonstrates how they process the nut inside the fruit to get the oil. Besides testing the oils and lotions we got to taste the “honey” and paste they make. It tasted like a cross between all natural peanut butter and Vegemite. We got lots of great pictures of the ladies and picked up all sorts of products.Next stop is the town of Essaouira. It sits on the coast with a natural harbor protected by large rocks. Ahmed leaves us through the souks here which are different from Marrakesh in that they are big fish markets. The twisting alleys lead us to the fort. To say it was a bit breezy is an understatement. The Portuguese cannons on the ramparts were from the 19th century and still look like that could work. We walked along the seawall to where the fishing boats are kept and a short walk to lunch on the beach at Le Chalet de la Plage. Ahmed has called ahead and reserved a beach side table for us. Chris ate a whole plate of sardines while I watch and try not to gag. I have a thing about bones. I had an awesome fillet of John Dory and ryan tried to keep the seagulls away. After lunch we had time to walk along the beach and stick our toes in the Atlantic. It really is interesting how the Atlantic and pacific smell so different even from different sides. The cool water definitely feels good on the ankle that I really don’t want to get back in the van. But eventually we do and head back to Marrakech and a nice dinner at the French restaurant of La Mamounia Hotel. Ok, famous place, all the celebrities go there, been there since 1923...sad to say, not impressed with their high impression of themselves. It was kind of like being back in snooty France. I’m sorry, when I get a look because I’m wearing a shoe that will hold my foot instead if a Milano Blanco, you don’t get high marks in my book. Nor when you raise your eye brow when Chris orders the expensive steak on the menu. And especially don’t give me the evil eye when my son helps me down the stairs. It takes a LOT more than two glasses of wine to make me unsteady. My ankle had stiffened up and didn’t want to work. Not to mention that if you were looking at my foot wear you would have noticed it was the size of a camel’s foot. This is how to annoy me. I’m not sorry we went; we later watched an old Tony Randal movie, “Our Man in Marrakech” and really enjoyed seeing all the familiar places in the hotel. But, I’m much happier that we stayed were we did.