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| OUR SIN ROOM BALCONY |
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| TAXI TO MARRAKESH |
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| NEAR CAFE DES EPICES |
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| AT CAFE DES EPICES |
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| SOMEONE WANTS OUR FOOD |
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| HORSE CARRIAGE IN THE FNA |
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| BYEEEEEE MARRAKESH |
We returned from our Toubkal trek to enjoy our last night at Douar Samra. Rashida had arranged for a Grand Taxi to take us back to Marrakech in the morning. We settled our drinks bill and packed our cases, handing them over for Jules to carry up to the road. Saying goodby to the staff was like saying farewell to friends. Even the owner, Jacqueline, came out to give us a hug.
Our driver dropped us off close to the Grand Taxi rank in Marrakesh at around 1.00pm. It had been hot in Tamatert, but it was even hotter at the lower altitude. We were staying in Riad Casa Sophia again for our last night in Morocco so we left our cases with Medhi, as before, freeing us to take a further walk around the souks during the afternoon. Rubi had hoped to buy a leather bag for herself and some gifts for friends, and I wanted to get a tagine dish, but we couldn't find what was wanted at the right price. Being continually hassled by stall owners became tiring after a while so we walked to the south of the Medina where it was a bit less oppressive.
During the evening we found an excellent restaurant close to Casa Sophia where we enjoyed such good tagines that we returned the next day to take a long relaxing lunch there. We spent several hours 'people watching' before returning to Casa Sophia mid-afternoon for the last time.
We were concerned that the taxi company we had engaged for airport transfers would be as unreliable on the return trip as they had been when we arrived. Medhi phoned them for us to say that we were ready anytime. They were on time, but not at our accomodation. We ended up having to walk half a mile, dragging our cases again in the swieltering heat, to meet the taxi driver near Koutoubia Mosque.
The drive to the airport was short. Just as well as the taxi driver was holding his phone to his ear with his left hand and changing gear with his right. Occasionally he touched the steering wheel. At the airport drop-off point I had the feeling that he was hoping for a tip.
