A choppy crossing by sea cat to Tangiers is quickly followed by a turbulent entry into Morocco.
Customs on this continent is an interesting affair! You are not quite sure who is an official and who is just after your cash. After an hour of trying to ignore the overly helpful ones, debating ownership of the car with the grumpy ones and registering with the local police, we are finally the last car to be let through.
Getting insurance too didn’t turn out to be as straight forward as expected: a Fiat Panda seemed a very perplexing model to the clerk. She finally decided to class it as a moped – despite seing the car – and let us on our merry way, insurance in hand.
The motorway to Casablanca is generally devoid of cars and a pretty clear run if you sucessfuly avoid the hundreds of pedestrians and the occasional donkey crossing.
We managed patch a worrying fuel leak with electrical tape, making good time until we reached the ouskirts of Casablanca at rush hour. We fought our way toward the centre, eventually electing to park up and find a hotel by foot.
Not long after we are settle in a cheap but comfortable estblishment and heading out for our first tagine.
