May 21, 2014 
TAFRAOUT to SIDI IFNI 236 Km
Hotel Belle Vue, double, ensuite, w/o breakfast
260 dh ($31.50)

People Watching
 
Wednesday means market day in Tafraoute. From our balcony, we watch the locals coming and going. Men in long robes and pointy hoods. Women in mostly in long dark skirts and wrapped up in long black scarfs trimmed in tassels or sparkles. Markets are always good for an hour stroll and the Tafraout market is small and interesting. The snake oil salesman draws a big crowd while the snake charmer (Cobra) has none. The market has a peaceful buzz, not too hectic. People meet and greet each other warmly and take time to catch up. It is a laid back market in a laid back town.
   
Before we left town, we stopped in at Said's shop and then visited the Argan co-op next door. 


What is Argan Oil?

Argan is a rare oil produced from kernels of the Argan tree which is endemic to Morocco. It is used in cooking and cosmetic products. Argan off the tree is the size of a peach pit. A hard shell is removed to get to a thick peel. That peal is removed to get at the pit. The pits are ground to extract the oil. The women at the co-op gave a demonstration of the extraction process; the way the village women would have done it in the old days, with hammers and a muscle-powered stone hand grinder.
 

Amelin Valley
 
There is a 35 km scenic loop through the Amelin Valley which can be done on rented bicycle. We detoured north so we drive part of it on our way out of town. There are plenty of Argan trees on the otherwise barren hillsides. We both agreed that, if we had to choose, Aït Mansour Gorge (which we drove through yesterday) is a clear winner.
 

Windswept 
 
As we turned back to the south, on our way to the Atlantic coast, we climbed a high ridge, where the wind was particularly fierce, and dropped to the valley on the other side. The palms had disappeared and hillsides were bare except for hardy argan trees. Several tin-bladed farm windmills indicated that wind is not unusual here. When we got out to take pictures, we had to struggle against the wind to open the door and steady our camera. 
 
Today was a pleasant drive mostly on narrow paved roads past small villages that blend perfectly in their surroundings. People grow fields of prickly pear cactus here, the only crop that thrives here. Sad attempts are made growing wheat. We watched (mostly) women harvest it and load their donkeys to transport it kilometers to the threshing machine. Later on in the day, we saw many nomad tents set up near the fields. Maybe they come here to help with harvest.  

We climbed over one last ridge before dropping steeply to the Atlantic coast. 

 
Police Got Us (Gendarmed Again!)

As one enters Sidi Ifni from the north, there is a long incline to the central core of old town and the port. It is a perfect place for a speed trap so we drove extra cautiously. Sure enough, as we rounded the curve at the bottom, a uniformed officer waived us to the side of the road. 

This one spoke English so the playing dumb routine wasn't going to work. He asked for the car's papers. They were in order. He asked for Dave's licence and it was in order. Then he looked over to me and said "your co-driver was seen without her seat belt." "That is a 400 dirham fine."  That got all three of us talking at the same time. "You've got to be kidding me." "400 is almost $50." "Can we go to the courthouse?" "Do we get a receipt?" "He was going to keep looking until he found something." "That's going straight into his pocket."

The "That's going straight into his pocket" struck a nerve with the officer and he got defensive. He showed a stack of a dozen signed tickets he has issued and were paid. He pulled out a thick stack of 100's which he explained were received for the violations. He showed another paper and explained that they have three categories, 400, a 500 and a 1000 dirham fines. We were at the bottom rung with just 400, he said. "It doesn't go in my pocket," he said as he implored us to believe him. He flipped through the stack of tickets once again. "See." "See." "See.". "A warning this time," he finally said. “Merci, merci, merci,” we kept repeating as we anxiously waited for him to get his fat head out of our window so we could slither away.
 
.....I almost always wear my seat belt. But I have been jumping in and out of the car so often to take photos, that I quit bothering to use it lately. We were lucky this time.