Marrakech to Essouira - some R&R

Starting off the morning slowly in Marrakech. I wanted to take a wander through Djma-al-Fnaa, my favorite plaza in the world, for some breakfast and fresh squeezed orange juice. Tony was with me for the ride to Essouira, so we walked through the medina to visit his other friend Mohammed for a walk and chat. I kept one eye open for a kasbah lantern - was thinking this would be perfect in the bathroom - but didn't see any that called out for me. In Nepal, it is said that you cannot go shopping for buddha statues - the buddha has to find you, so I was applying the same philosophy to finding a lantern. Or being found by one. No luck on this trip.

Eventually we hit the road from Marrakech to Essouira, about 3 hours eastward. Driving out of Marrakech was a bit hectic - it was good to have a co-pilot along for the ride. Morocco's roads are well signposted, even in the cities. But in Marrakesh, the traffic is horrendous, and any 6 square inches in front of your vehicle could at any time be immediately squeezed into by a biker, a mule cart, a horse-drawn caleche (well, you'd have to be a bit slow for that), a motorcycle - you get the idea.

Just outside of town, I experienced my first police shakedown. As with any town's outskirts, I suppose, the speed limits drop coming into the city, and gradually increase when leaving. Unfortunately, I probably really was doing 70k in the 60k zone, just feet in front of the 80k zone. As I was pulled over, I was excited to see how this would pan out. Fortunately, I had Tony's linquistic and bargaining skills onboard. When the officer approached and I handed him the paperwork, I'm not sure he quite knew what to do with me. He took the paperwork and my license over to the other waiting patrolmen, while Tony and I watched in the rear view mirror.

They way it goes, apparently, on Moroccan speed traps, is that once the officer begins writing in his Big Official Book with Carbon Paper, you get an Official Ticket, and have to pay 400 dirham (a little more than $40 USD). OR - you can offer the officer 100 dirham, for his troubles, for the heat, for the inconvenience, etc. - and be sent on your way. Tony suggested going the 100 dh route.

Problem was, I kind of wanted the official ticket. I could add it to my collection from Norway, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, and the 'ticket' from the Maoists in Nepal to walk through the countryside. But, Tony took it upon himself to go out and have a word with the officer. He brought a candybar along (it was on the verge of melting) and a 50 dirham note. With the ease of a graceful, hidden handshake, and the handover of the candybar, the deal was done - my paperwork was returned (to Tony) and I was free to proceed. Without a ticket.