One of our hotel's cats, greeting us this morning, as we made an early visit to the Madrasa Ben Youssef (1564-65), the old Muslim scholarly center, with wonderful elaborate architecture:
Across the Djemaa El Fna one more time, back to the hotel (via the patisserie), and
then across 120 miles of what was curiously similar to the Mojave desert, with no cacti but lots of Argon trees, to Essaouira, a port and holiday town on the Atlantic: hazy and humid, but a good twenty degrees cooler than Marrakech.
Essaouira has its own handsome cats everywhere.
staying in a lovely, warren-like, whitewashed-and-cobalt riyad with extraordinary home cooking (beef - and I don't usually ever eat beef - with peas and artichoke hearts and preserved lemon).
and this is the misty nighttime Atlantic from our room.
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