Donkeys and asses

We left Tangier under crystal blue skies minus only Brian's toilet bag. When both were tearfully reunited we hit the road to Fes and spent a very pleasant day marvelling at the greenery and rolling hills of this part of Morocco. People in strange hats lingering by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, seemingly with no reason for being there, were a regular sight. The more affluent of the Berber locals were borne upon a donkey. Coveting thy neighbour's ass could not be more relevant around here especially when there are no roads to one's home and there definitely seemed to be both Rolls Royce standard donkeys and the Skoda equivalent. 

The day's ride was remarkably uneventful and all arrived in Fes with our own local escort (basically, man on scooter sees a bunch of foreign bikes and offers his services to find our way into the city but bordering on demanding money with menaces). Albert did prove reasonably useful however and engaged the services of two older Alberts who hand-carted our luggage to the Riad. What we have realised is that everyone is in it for a tip and they have a fixed idea as to what the tip should be. It makes American waiters seems positively cheap by comparison. 

The holy grail of this trip is proving to be the hunt for

beer. In previous years this might have been a similarly futile quest to find 'places of entertainment for gentlemen' but our efforts are entirely devoted to finding the amber nectar in a country where, well, there isn't much due to a strange religious 'no beer' policy. But this evening, as the consequence of a pleasant sequence of events, we were blessed with beer, gin and wine. Our cup did indeed runneth over as the very smart spa to which we adjourned for a hamman (massage and steam bath experience for the tired and weary) also boasted a rooftop bar and better still a fab restaurant. Job done. 

One of the longest days of the trip awaits us on Monday as we travel to Erfoud, on the edge of the Sahara. Wonderful...