Back in Tiznit

Aisha's friend Abdellatif Jhilal picked me up from the Tildi Hotel at exactly 10 o'clock. He drove me in an upmarket gleaming black Volkswagen sedan in around two hours to Tiznit. The Tildi is situated in a narrow quiet street that runs down hill to the beach. Just before the beach it is cut short by the main traffic artery that runs north-south parallel to the coast. This wide street took us first to Inzegane past the huge Marijane supermarket, the bus station and the Grand Taxi station. Next it crosses the Sous River that gives the region its name. March should be the time of the year that abundant water is passing under the bridge. It wasn't bad actually. Morocco also had had a miserable and cold month just like in Ireland. Next we drove through Ait Melloul. In this town is the turn off for the N1 to Tiznit and beyond. The other route goes to the airport. It was the route I had come that morning. By that time I knew that Abdellatif was courtious, somewhere in his forties, unmarried and from Taza. He taught theoretical mathematics at Agadir university and had been taken once by Aisha to Iligh to meet her family. After having established his antecedents without giving mine away we could proceed over the N1. First through the string of villages from one roundabout to another and than on to the new fast road. We passed the turn off to Sidi Rabat on the right and hit an empty stretch. Abdellatif had the address where we would meet the others and stay: the Tiznit Hotel. I knew where it was: on the major roundabout. Who would have thought that Tiznit would become such an important part of my Moroccan experiences? At the end of my stay I would finally get the chance to make a sketch of this roundabout from another hotel: the Idou Hotel. On the sketch you look from the west side of the five exit roundabout towards the east. The road to the east is towards Tafroute and is the traditional way to get to Iligh. From left to right is the N1 north to Agadir and south to Guelmim and beyond. That is the new or alternative way to Iligh. The two roads towards the west of which only one is visible go into the town.

Back in Agadir

Back in Agadir, but not for long. For the whole journey from my home in Polranny to the room in the Tildi 14 hours later I had been fueled by adrenalin. As soon as the night porter closed the door of my hotel room behind him I fell on the bed in a deep sleep. Once I'm 'on my way' I tend to relax. I have no problem to leave worries about the next day behind once I'm in the state of traveling. However before I'm on the move I'm totally, insanely nervous and sick with apprehension. I contracted this in my youth. Before I started on another hitchhiking adventure I was ill for a week, but the desire for adventure and the urge to get away always won from the sickening panic. It was delightful to wake up knowing I was in Morocco once again. I thought I would be picked up by Aisha's friend around 2 o'clock. That meant I would miss the beginning of the 'Reunion'. But I didn't care. Now I was in Agadir I didn't worry anymore about if and how to get to Tiznit or Iligh. I felt confident again. However before I went down for breakfast I got a message that Abdellatif Jhilal would be at the hotel at 10 o'clock. During breakfast I had just enough time to make a sketch of the view from the terras of the iconic hill and the fortifications that gave Agadir its name. The complementary fruit basket the hotel staff had so kindly put in my room was hurriedly stuffed into my shoulder bag. At least some of it.

Where to go?

While Bert and Aicha were running up and down the stairs in the provincial palace in Tiznit between the different layers of bureaucracy to get funding for the 'Reunion' of the Friends of Iligh, I was in Ireland and didn't have a clou what went on. During my stay in Polranny Bert and I had had contact via Skype every Tuesday about the graphic story. But since Bert had left for Morocco we had only occasionally spoken to each other. I knew about the disaster that had befallen Iligh and the desperation of Bert how that would effect the arrival of the international crew of experts. I didn't know about the effort of Bert and Aisha to work out Plan B. My flight from Dublin to Agadir would be on March 21 in the middle of the night. I would to take a taxi from the airport to Iligh. That was the plan. Next I got a mail from Bert that she had not arranged a taxi and anyway she, Aisha and Annie Wright, the photographer were in Tiznit. The Aboudmiaa also had stated that I couldn't take a taxi in the middle of the night. That was too dangerous and anyway Zhor Rehilhil was supposed to land that morning sometime from Casablanca. I had to come with her to Tiznit. I saw myself spending the night in the carpark of the airport. That didn't bode well. Finally I caught Bert on Skype. She happened to be in Agadir in the Tildi hotel. I asked her to get me a room and a transfer from the airport. She did that. A room with shower was reserved for me as I can't get into and out of a bath anymore. The last time I was in the Tildi I had trouble with it. So far so good. Between the arrival of my train from Castlebar and the flight to Agadir I was going to have to spend a lot of time in Dublin. Time enough to finally make that sketch inside the Galway Hooker. The Galway Hooker is the carvery inside Heuston Station. It is the place for the culchies to wait for the train into the boondogs.