Pay the guide or self guide?

Much of our travels is bumbling down roads and happening upon things as we go, rather than planning in advance. And we like self discovery.

This place had a destination spray painted on the road. Worth a quick diversion? Why not. We were deep in the High Atlas and miles from anywhere. We had no idea where we were even 😴 sleeping that night.

Two young Berber men sat at the end chilling, a tent set up and a small fire. One offered to guide us down to the cave, and normally we would say no but he seemed nice enough and told us it was free. This seems Berber for: 'pay what you like at the end', which in our experience means good service as you'll feel compelled to give some dirham in return. Fair.

Yet sometimes it's worth it to learn a little more about the area and the people.

The cave stretches for what he said was at least three hours. Apparently water used to come out there but the Portuguese blocked it off and water was diverted to another village. He told us about how when the cascade flows, woman shower under it in hope of being blessed with a husband. In the distance caves housed shepherds.

I taught him some English grammar upon his request and some useful words, for which he was super happy. We learn the Arabic word for 'beautiful'.

Sometimes a small amount to tip a guy for his time and the pleasure of human interaction enriches an experience. Sometimes it feels like you've been conned. Sometimes you just want to be left alone. Sometimes it's nice to buy a service or a product to help someone out.

Small and straggly plants clung to rocks, and I spy what I think is mullein but could be lambs ear. We are shown a small cascade - he says the water is clean but we only splash our faces. It must be spectacular here in winter with the water running down.

Later we find an auberge to stay in. Abdul is incredibly welcoming and allows us to stay in his carpark. He invites us in to use his kitchen. Jamie sets up the camper whilst I begin to chop veggies. Abdul starts getting a little TOO friendly, putting his hand on my shoulder, my back. He asks if I'm married. I tell him to stop touching me and yes of course I am, my husband is just outside. Abdul apologizes but I make Jamie come and cook with me then retire to the camper out of sight. I'm not that bothered - he is just a lonely man in the middle of nowhere - but from here on in I'm quite fed up with the man's world of Morocco.

He shows us a picture of a beautiful young Berber wife and a daughter who he hasn't seen in ten years. In broken French and English he tells us the family didn't like him because he smoked too much - and then proceeded to smoke the third joint of hashish he had smoked since we arrived. Stoned AND lonely then.