DAY 14 WEDNESDAY 20TH JANUARY 2010

First thing to do on waking was to check the bikes which had been left parked overnight outside the front of the hotel.We had paid a guard to keep an eye on them all night and Roger had risen early and found the guard watching over the bikes. So I was a little disappointed to find someone had fiddled with my seat and tank bag mounts but nothing was missing or damaged. After breakfast, two taxis were ordered to take us to the Mauritanian Embassy to apply for our visas. There were numerous purposeful looking overland vehicles parked up and down the street and a crowd of at least 20 people when we arrived just after 9.00 am. Apparently, the officials had opened the doors at 9.00 am, handed out the required forms to the waiting xcrowd and promptly locked the door again? At least half an hour later the process was repeated and this time I grabbed 7 forms in the scrumage to enable all our group to start completing them. Once all forms were completed we formed an orderly queue in typically British fashion. However, once the door was opened a fez inches there was a rush forward like Sales Day at Harrods as everyone pushed in and none of our crew were successful in getting inside. Lessons learned, we regrouped for round 2 with Roger and myself in pole position and with a firmer attitude. At the second attempt, we succeeded in getting past the burly "bouncer"controlling access. The clerk behind the glass window was a miserable looking character who merely grunted the minimum amount of words needed to perform his task; "Passport, Photocopy of Passport, 340 Dirhams". Damn, I had left my copy of my passport back at the hotel with all my copy documents. So when the demands were were fired at me I told him that Ihad a copy back at my hotel and would bring it when I came to collect the completed visa. I was stunned when he agreed to this, took my money and issued the receipt. We advised the other riders to tell the same story and that he only accepted Dirhams and not Euros. He then left his small office and came around to tell Roger and myself not to talk to th eothers as we had already been processed and that we must leave the area.
We immediately left and walked to a nearby bank to withdraw some more Dirhams. But first we had to cross the busy road. In theory, there are 2 lanes in each direction but in reality of Rabat there are up to 5 lanes on each side as drivers try to squeeze up as much as possible. It looks like total chaos but it actually seems to work and the traffic seems to keep constantly moving. Which is great until you take your mife in your hands and attempt to cross it. Roger and I agreed that it would be tragic to survive over 2,000 miles of riding and then be run over crossing the road. The prospect of being in an African hospital did not appeal either so we walked further down the road to a set of traffic lights in the mistaken belief that might make it easier to cross. Once safely across, we got our cash out of the hole in the wall machine and then had to cross back.
We flagged down local blue taxis for the return trip to the hotel and the fare was one fifth of the outbound fare.
John and I consulted my Berlitz guide to Morocco and wanted to explore the old part of the town on the hill. Grabbing a local taxi, he took us to the Medina across town for a very reasonable GBP2. Not long after entering the maze of the Medina, we were aproached by a local guide, John and I both agreed that we were prepared to pay for a guide to get the most out of out visit and this pleasant chap spoke excellent English. He led us around the narrow streets and pointed out all the points of interest including the vast Muslim cemetry besdie the seashore. After luch came the call to prayer and he abruptly ended the tour. I offered him the equivelent of GBP 10 for his 20 minute guide but he stunned us by demending GBP40. I made it clear he was not getting another penny out of me so he turned his attention to John who agreed to double my stake up to GBP20 or 200 Dirhams. Unfortunately, John only had a 200 Dirham note and there was no way on earth he was going to get any change from this shark. The guide then hurried off to his mosque no doubt to give thanks to the prophets/profits.
We wandered down and found a pleasant cafe to have cakes, mint tea and the strongest coffee I have ever seen. The bottom half of the glass was solid tar but it tasted surprisingly good.
Below this area was a wonderful souk that catered mainly for locals with just a few selling tourist related merchandise. John was able to source an Ipod charger to replace one damaged in Spain when he had a minor electrical fault. Further down this fascinating street there was a beautiful aroma of frying fish. A corner stall was doing a brisk trade selling freshly fried fish in traditional Moroccan bread with an assortment of vegetables. They were absolutely delicious and very cheap. You really could find everything under the sun for sale in these streets from food, clothing, electrical goods to tortoise. I was intrigued by the two boxes of tortoise for sale, one with what I assumed were fully grown ones and the other with very small young ones. I stopped to take photos of these and the stallholder noticed my interest and came over. H ethen opened a large box filled with dozens of baby chamelions. Not something you see at ASDA.
We took a taxi back to the hotel where teh others had just arrived with their completed visas. John and I jumped in yet another taxi and sped around to the Embassy to collect ours before they closed. We kept the taxi waiting as we ran into the embassy and got our passports complete with the all important visa. Back in the taxi I quickly check my visa and found they had made two mistakes, the dates were wrong and it only allowed single entry whereas I would need two entries to allow me to ride back north again. I asked the taxi driver do do a quick U turn back to the Embassy where I tried to explain the errors to a bored and disinterested official who simply told me to come back tomorrow and buy another one. I was not happy but I had no other option.
Once back at the hotel; I told the others that I would be delayed in the moring and Andres very kindly agreed to stay behind and then ride down with me to Marrakesh.
In the evening, all 8 of us walked to the Kasbar and found a marvellous authentic Moroccan restaurant where we enjoyed the traditional Moroccan dish of tagine (or "tangine" as some called it) which is a piping hot stew with a choice of flavours:
Overall an excellent day enjoying the experience of Morocco.