A glimpse of Marrakesh, Moroccan fauna and a fair warning about quads

Somewhere between last Christmas, my birthday and New Year, Louveteau decided that it was time for me to explore an Arab country. For some reason, he was sure that I would say no. Out of principle, I said yes. On impulse, we took last moment Transavia/ Easy Jet tickets (which costed us like Air France Paris-Rio one way) and soon after were queuing at the immigration service at Menara airport.

Fast forward: getting in Morocco was much easier than getting out (at least to me on my lavish Russian passport – who could have thought! Louveteau had to showcase his entire passport collection to enter). To leave this beautiful place, we had to gather all possible stamps, which would be a very powerful impression on its own but was overshadowed for me by the separate lines for luggage scan for men and women.

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