This morning we decided to detour again, and drove back south east to see something we’d missed last week.
The Agadir Ighir Ifrane, a very old (approximately 900 years) fortified bank/granary where people used to store their valuables.
We called at the Cafe Moulin first, as advised on Google Maps, to see a man called Brahim, who is the key holder and is apparently very passionate about the place and loves to show people round.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t in today, but his wife (I think), just grabbed the keys, put her slippers on and led the way. It was a little awkward as we think she only spoke Arabic so we couldn’t even try to muddle through in French.
She set off like a mountain goat up a very steep gravel path (joy 😬) to the top of the hill at the back of the cafe. Being above 1000 metres, we were breathless after five minutes and she kindly stopped and allowed me to hyperventilate for a while.
Getting in to this extraordinary place was no mean feat. After unlocking at the front, she had to stick her hand through a hole at the side and also unlock from the rear then repeat the whole thing again on the inside.
Such an incredible piece of history. A long corridor open to the sky, lined with three stories of 84 chambers that served to store different valuables – some of them still had padlocks on! Bit different to NatWest..”Oh, you need to go online to do that!🤣”
Our guide told Guy in mime language that he could climb up if he wanted to – think it was ok getting up, but down was a different story.
We walked back down the road to the cafe whilst the mountain goat took the suicide path. She then cooked us a Berber omelette and some kind of meatball tagine which was very nice. When wine glasses appeared we got quite excited, but nothing arrived to go in them.
Back at the van, two thin dogs that Guy had fed earlier came to wave us off and ask for another helping of Moroccan Winalot which they got – poor things looked so hungry.
Back up the twisty roads through a town that had scores of flags out, lots of army personnel and a huge street market but not many customers – no idea what was happening there.
On to Taradaunt next, which is billed in the Rough Guide as one of the most elegant towns in Morocco also friendly and laid back.
I think the writer only walked around the outside walls because inside is utter bedlam!
On our second attempt to park in what looked like another giant junk yard, we paid £2 to a young bloke who directed us into a space.
We’d just sat down for a much needed coffee when he appeared at the door to tell us about an accident in Agadir involving a motorhome. Then he showed us various photos and daft videos on his phone whilst our home filled up with flies from outside. 🙄Then he said “Don’t park here overnight – it’s too noisy. Park at my friend’s place up the road.”
Not impressed, we went and found a totally different place.
The town was complete and utter chaos – cars, bikes, kids, scooters, pedestrians, horses, you name it ..it’s all there within the walls of Taradaunt. It didn’t help that it was very hot and windy, causing rubbish and grit to blow everywhere too.
We did, however, get some nice bread from a lady with a clay pizza oven complete with wood fire inside.
I feel like I need to lie down in a dark room for an hour now!
