Rebekah Lucy Loves: Rebekah Lucy Loves Marrakech* (*for the most part)

A few months ago, Erica and I locked down a discount Fleetway holiday to Marrakech via the weekly top 20 over at Travel Zoo. The package worked out under £200 each and included return flights, four nights accommodation, two meals a day, a city tour, and a 30 minute hammam (henceforth referred to as hamamamamamamamamama). Um, hello bargain.

Erica and I hadn't travelled together Will Smith Style (just the two of us, geddit?) since early 2011 when I landed in the UK and we did some Euro-jaunting, so it was nice to have a holiday to look forward to with my fauxcousinslashactualbestie (long story).

The departure date finally rolled around last Thursday so we packed our bags (badly, it turned out - hey Marrakech, what is up with your ever-changing weather? Oh yeah, it's December now) and climbed aboard our Easy Jet flight where we had three seats between the two of us - thank you Gods of Travel.

Here are my highlights (and lowlights) (and laugh... lights) as adapted from Facebook (because I am a bit lazy)...

Prosecco on the plane. / Marockneys (as we dubbed the five loud-mouths situated in the row in front of us) be like on-board VIPs who drank and smoked (yes, abord a plane) their way through the three hour flight. / "What are you going to Marrakech for?" "Peace and quiet." / May or may not have consumed three packets of crisps between leaving my house and landing in Morocco. / Note to self: wear more clothes tomorrow. / Dinner number one is... beige. / Early night. / Breakfast number one is... beige. / #camelsofinstagram. / First harrowing attempt to navigate the souks market - failed to haggle for handbags and abandoned ship fairly promptly.

Prosecco on the plane. Oh yeah.

You... light up my life.

The first of the beige. Ah, so much beige.

#camelsofinstagram

'Compliments' and 'offers' including but not limited to nice boobies, Kim Kardashian, fish 'n chips, chicken 'n chips, cheaper than ASDA, show us your Berber eyes, 50,000 camels, cheaper than Primark, Shakira, shake it shake it, ohmygyyyyyaaaad. / Would you like to come to the tanneries? Not really. Oh it's happening anyway. Berber gas mask is delicious. Barrels of pigeon poo (they use it to bleach the leather) is not delicious. No, we will not pay you for this 'tour'. / Soooooo many cats - Crazy Cat Lady (i.e. me) is in Heaven. / Moroccon salad is not good. Beef tagine is. So is Coca Light (duh) (however Diet Coke is better and different and I will stand by that statement until the end of time). / Approximately 17 attempts to figure out the exchange rate, then back to the souks for purchase of colourful leather handbags (which didn't even require haggling - kind of disappointing, but I think the seller was sufficiently dazzled by Erica's Berber ankles or something) - and other assorted things which we probably didn't need. / Erica acquires a child groom. / I acquire a lampshade (of course). / Hey guess what I LOVE animals but please stay away from me with your charmed snakes and / or chained monkeys because that is MEAN and I CANNOT COPE. / Lipgloss Man Child. / Starts to rain. Miss the shuttle. 25 Dirham for a cab. That is £1.82 so yes please. / Creepy Dancing Doll Army.

The second biggest mosque in Morocco.

Soooooo many cats. <3.

Tangerines. The national fruit. Apparently.

Patterns on a plate. My first tagine.

Dinner is... beige. Wine is... wine. Waking up and standing in a puddle is... all kinds of alarming. (Don't worry, Erica just unplugged the fridge). / VERY NORMAL PEOPLE is the most bizzare radio broadcast slash television show slash what the hell is this crap? I have ever seen. That is 1 x catchy theme tune however. / "This crepe is almost like a naan bread but thinner so like a crepe." / Rainy Reading Holiday Day. / Crunchips? I will get ten. (Seriously.) What kind of marketing genius came up with that anyway? / Tweezer cheese? No. Let's fashion a knife from the Kinder box? No. Hands it is. / By the way, don't gangnam if you're busting - only makes it worse. / No hamamamamamamama for us please, just the massage. But why? Um, I don't speak French so please can we stop having this conversation and you rub my back now ta. (The massage was (eventually) quite good, I must say.) / "Dave. Mate. Dave? Um. What are we, chopped liver? We can see you. Off to Pacha? Cheers for the invite. Leading Liz up the garden path. No family hamamamamamamama tomorrow then? Right." / Don't quote me on it but I'm pretty sure there was some more beige food at this point. And probably also a tangerine. The National Fruit of Morocco. Apparently.

Rainy reading day with EJV.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens* (*whiskers on kittens not shown).

Crunchips? I will get ten.

Wine is... wine. And / or vinegar.

Hey Colin Farrell, I'm pretty sure Alexander didn't have an Irish accent but play on player. (Yes, we stayed in and watched movies and fell asleep to the gentle Irish tones of Mr Farrell and his blonde weave blowing in the breeze instead of checking out the nightlife like normal 20-somethings might - but when one is as popular as Erica was in the Medina one is naturally a little reluctant to hang out in dimly lit, drunken spaces). / Contending with foreign bug life is less than ideal. / Early to rise for a trip to Ourika Valley and the Atlas mountains. / Erica got felt up again. I got... purred on again. / Delicious minty tea, and warm fresh-baked bread with honey on the rooftop of a Berber house in the sunshine. / "Your purr's writing cheques that your fur can't cash?" / Actual jandals in the actual snow. / Building the world's tinchiest snowman. / Waiting while our tour guide and driver buy their fresh meat - don't mind me, love a bit of carcass hacking on the side of the road. / Delicious traditional lunch (and... Coke, natch) in the sunshine with the most insanely beautiful view of the snowy peaks and... more tangerines. Seriously, get a new fruit.

Window detail at Ourika Valley.

Traditional bread baking in a Berber house. Yummy with honey!

Making friends in Ourika Valley.

Berber woman making delicious minty tea on the roof of the house.

James and Dawn are our BFFs now - eat that Dave and Liz. James loves a bit of kofta and Carrefour, but no tomato or people thanks. Dawn isn't partial to couscous. Er, welcome to The Couscous Capital of the World./ Yet more VERY NORMAL PEOPLE. / "Marrakech really bustles of a Sunday afternoon." / The cleaning staff want to... menage? And / or rifle through our trash and judge us. Yes, we like Crunchips and wine and chocolate - deal with it. PS. We stole an extra loo roll. / "Megarama: where the Ramas are MEGA." / Too little too late Dave. / MEAT. What kind of meat? It's just MEAT. It's mysterious. And cold. Again. With a side of beige. / "Hey there's a new cake tonight, it's... wait for it... beige." / Invited in to James and Dawn's room. Decide ours is better. Also we don't roll like that but we hear the cleaning staff might? At least I think that's what they said - I don't speak French. / This wine tastes like vinegar.

The world's tinchiest snowman. Average.

Some green doors. Me. Standard pose.

Beef and vegetable tagine in the sunshine. The best meal of the whole trip. And so... un-beige.

The view wasn't bad either. Atlas Mountains. Boom.

One woman PJ Party in the wifi zone. / Shawshank. Spoiler: he escapes. / Ay-rab Streeeeet (to the tune of Shortland Street for those playing at home) (sing it). "Dr Akhkkkkkkha... how do you spell that?" "You're not in Guatama....mmmnevermind." / Free bus tour is free because it is shit. / Olive gardens are probably interesting but piles of puppies are better - especially the bitey one which tried to eat Erica's skirt. / Needy cat is needy. Disgusting carp is disgusting. Open air mosque is open air (and also quite beautiful). / Palmerie. Pah? Pah? Parmerie? I... no... say it again? PALMERIE. PALMERIE. Pah? Parmesan? Pah? Pah? Paralellogram? No. I don't know what you're saying. / To the pharmacy for photos and spices and very important educational speech and 1 x frustrated African man. / Berber lipstick is green in the tube. And then some kind of crazy 80s purple on my skin. / If ever I was going to buy a 'genuine imitation' watch for 'very good price' it would definitely be out of a briefcase on the side of the road in Morocco, that's for sure.

A man and a mule. Or a donkey. What's the difference? I have no idea.

Erica and her new bitey friend.

Marrakech on the move. Mosque in the background. And blue, blue sky. Boom.

Colourful scarves in the markets.

More Crunchips, good sir. / Vag-cupped at the airport. / "Who asks for the fruit option anyway?" "People who have been stranded in Beigeville for a week." / Imagine if we get three seats to share again. Or IMAGINE if those Marockney jerks are on our flight and seated right next to us again which surely would be like the slimmest of the slim to nil chances ever in the history of chanc... oh, there they are and they're... sitting next to us (got a guilt dinner out of it) (and it turns out when they're not drinking and smoking they're sort of okay human beings). / Also I got my lampshade back in one piece. / And I saw some sunshine. / And parts of Marrakech are very, very beautiful. / And I love kittens and puppies (surprise!) / And I laughed sooooooooooooo much. / And my father is Liam Neeson and he has a very particular set of skills.