Essaouira, cats and camels

You'll be unsurprised to learn that we didn't go for a camel ride.  We were too busy admiring the town's felines.  Some are cafe proprietors;

some run motorcycle courier companies;

some are (rather terrible) artists;

others are engaged in the ceramics trade;

and notices on doors encourage one to make sure they have water available, and so on.  

Such is the affection shown towards cats here that when we were settling up this evening (we have a horribly early start), Alice asked where the hotel cat was (we haven't actually seen one, so it was a rather abstract question), and the proprietor rushed out of the front door to check, and came back to tell us that, as he should be, he was by the kitchen.

And throwing in a miscellany: our little room, or rooms (the bedroom is up in the tower);

view from our room;

miscellaneous architecture in the old town;

the view from the ramparts;

the Atlantic heading out at low tide;

and possibly the most aesthetic toilet paper shelf ever.