In the weekend of the 14th and 15th of April King Mohammed VI is in Essaouira. The city has been transformed for his visit. All the houses, lanterns and buildings are decorated with the Moroccan flag and on every intersection his portrait is plastered on all the billboards.

Saturday we are still in Casablanca but early Sunday morning we head for Essaouira. A long the way we suddenly see cars and busses parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere just 20 km from Essaouira. Just minutes after a roadblock appears, the police officers wear white slash with a red star, the Royal police!

Who doesn’t picture an idyllic lake with a couple of palm trees in the middle of the desert when hearing the word oasis? A safe haven for travelers and a place of commercial interest for nomads crossing the Sahara. In Figuig, a remote oasis near the frontier of Algeria, some illusions are shattered but the reality is just as rich and beautiful.

We depart from Oujda in the direction of Figuig in the assumption that we are heading towards a warm place in the desert. Completely frozen we gaze at the snow that covers the land. We knew that it could be cold at night, but snow… Gradually the white surroundings change into vast deserted plains with literally nothing. The only thing that breaks the barren region is the ‘Montagnes Mortes’, dead mountains, revealing how ancient this region really is.

A good Moroccan woman. ‘What kind of mother doesn’t teach her daughter how to do laundry?!’ This must have crossed the mind of our Moroccan mom Miryem Sabar at some point during our laundry session. In Rabat Lieke and I integrate into the Moroccan society. Little by little we learn what it takes to be a good Moroccan wife.

The last weeks it has been very cold in the mountain region of Morocco, consequently we have been walking around in the same clothes. While packing our bags we assumed that Morocco would be warm in springtime. Unprepared for snow and cold our warm clothes are scarce and really dirty at the moment.

In Tanger on our first day in Morocco we got familiar with the Friday tradition, Friday is Couscousday. Friday in Morocco is like a Sunday in Christian countries. It’s the day of pray and families eat together in the afternoon couscous. Today, being 3 weeks in Morocco we are guests at home of our Moroccan mother Miriam, who has prepared delicious couscous.

One moment we are standing between the weaving machines of a women organization, the next we find ourselves in a migrant ghetto; and then we go via the new movie theater to a souk. Asam, our contact in Tanger, makes sure that we experience all aspects of the city. The stereotype of Morocco and specifically Tanger, a grey and dangerous town, is neutralized by what turns out to be a mild and beautiful town.

On the boat from Morocco Lieke and I wonder what Morocco is going to bring us. Our pilot starts in Morocco, the port of Morocco that is known as an old pirates nest and for its crime. Camiel warned us, Asam has a very busy schedule for the Rif Mountains and Tanger. At the entrance of the port Asam welcomed us with a sign saying World2xPress.

The Alarm clock goes off at 9.00. With walls like ears our host serves us with 2 cups of divine tea before we even have time to head for the showers. The day starts of good when you wake up over a cup of steaming tea.

Unfortunately it is raining, so we leave the Alhambra for the time being. First we are off to the MediaMarkt... yes we know, of all places... we brought all this equipment with us to film, but without the right cables our microphone and video camera don't know each other. Sadly like in Amsterdam this shop doesn't have what we need. We did get an address, a shop in town that has everything you ever need with anything electric. Electron on la calle Alamar.

Early in the morning Fieke's dad drives us to the airport of Brussels-Charleroi. On our way there it's raining and there are many traffic congestions, especially on the ring of Brussels, when we find out that Brussels-Charleroi is Paris North instead of Brussels South.

After a quick cup of coffee with our great driver, we take of at 12.00 for Malaga. Once we are in Malaga we quickly head for the bus to go to Granada. We begin our journey in Granada. For many people Africa is far away, as far as the other side of the world. People in the South of Spain know that Europe en Africa are just separated by a narrow passage, the street of Gibraltar. “Where the fingers of Africa reach for the fingers of Spain”.