So long and thanks for all the tagines

We spent the last few days in Essaouira, a beachside town about two hours out of Marrakech. Essaouira is pretty; white-washed buildings with bright blue windows and doors and footpaths lined with palm trees. The town has a long stretch of beach and rows of campervans driven by silver-topped, cashed up retired Euros.

We wandered the winding streets of the medina, serviced our growing coffee habit, people watched and shopped. I tried out the traditional Moroccon hammam, or bathhouse. I was soaped, scrubbed, pummeled and shampooed by two women to within an inch of my life. I emerged clean, shiny and minus a few layers of my epidermis.

We are now back in Marrakech, which has been interesting - lots of shops, a wonderful cafe culture and roads lined with orange trees and large palms. But you have to choke your way through the fumes, cigarette smoke and general smog haze.

The Marrakech medina is where the real action happens: shop till you drop meets snake charmers. Alleys of stalls sell everything; no, really, everything: spices, carpets, shoes, jewellery, animals, fruit, nuts, olives, clothing, bags, baskets, wood cuts, furniture and a wardrobe of kaftans for every occasion. And "looking is free and nice for your eyes".

At the end of the day your eyes are tired, your legs are heavy and your wallet is empty. As the sun sets, the main square comes alive in a frenzy of activity. The air is heavy with the scent of spicy shish kebabs and the sound of spruikers calling diners into their stalls with promises of cheap prices and special food. The night attracts a melé of witch doctors, snake charmers, astrologers, story tellers and other unclassifiable lunatics; all vying for attention and cashola. Rows of horse-drawn carriages are waiting to scoop up the tired, the sick and the infirm tourists who finally emerge out of the medina.

From the old medinas to the snow-capped mountains to the yellow desert and mud-brick traditional kasbahs, Morocco has been an amazing place to visit - and a great place to shop.

We are heading back to London.

May your camel spit away from you

Were now in Marrakech; a very cosmopolitan city where the older, traditional Morocco rubs shoulders with the newer, westernised Morocco - literally. A collection of beggars and street kids congregate outside McDonalds where well-dressed city types bustle pass trying to ignore them.

But its taken us five days, about a thousand kilometres and dodging three dodgy policemen and their 400 dirham fines to get here. It was a trip filled with exciting, nerve wracking moments and some of the most beautiful ever-changing landscapes weve seen. And a lot of dromaderies. Thats camel to you.

We left Fes and went south to Meknes and the ancient Roman ruins at Volibilis. With very few tourists and no hassle we wandered throught the baths, the crumbling baslica, the forum and ancient houses.

Over the next days we continued through the snow-capped Atlas mountains, across the red, dry flat plains and into the desert. We took a three-hour camel trek into the edge of the desert. We then journeyed past brown, mud-brick kasbahs and palm groves beside flowing streams.

Along the road, we were stopped for the first speeding fine. The Pay Now approach seemed suspicious and we were willing to pay with our credit card. The officer let us off, but not before enquiring if we had cigarettes or alcohol to help us on our way.

Over the next days, we passed through the towering Todra Gorge, the Draa Valley and over the dizzying heights of the mountains into Marrekech. We were stopped along the way four our second speeding fine. This time we knew the drill and when the 400 Dirham fine was mentioned we eagerly offered our credit card once again. He waved us away with a disapointed smile.

We arrived in Marrakech last night and were about 100 metres from the Hertz office when we were pulled over again. The friendly officer tapped his right arm indicating that he needed help distinguishing between left and right. At the sight of our credit card the disapointment was palpable. So he waved us away after trying half-heartedly to get his 400Dr fine. We were relieved to have the car off our hands.

Were now happily road fodder negotiating the traffic on foot. Off to mix it in the Marrakech medina.

When in Fes

you speak French ... but also English. The English speakers smile quaintly at our French and the French speakers look confusedly at our French.

Fes is nothing like the film Casablanca. But foreign destinations rarely our like their filmic equivalent.

We are loving Fes, which is the artistic and cultural capital of Morocco. We have been eating great food like shish kebabs and vegetable tagines, mint tea and wonderful coffees and sweet crepes. We will be having a few Moroccoan dinners when we get back, thats for sure.

We spent a day touring the artistic capital of Morocco, which dates back to the Carthigian times. Fes was the site of the worlds first university back in 700 AD. The old city is called the Medina. This is an amazing place where 400,000 people live enclosed by the old city walls. No cars can fit and the cobbled lanes and alleyways have not changed much since the middle ages. The streets are alive with people selling everything from carpets to coffees, carvings to cameras, crepes to coins.

Brad and I got separated yesterday and only rejoined back at the hotel. The maze of alleyways and lanes is so confusing. I only found my way out an hour later trying to recognise the lanes of shops selling leather, brass, spices and material.

And no one hassles you. There is no _ madam, madam...where you go? what is your name? just looking! Best price for you!

But the sellers still like to bargain which is a fun way to shop.

We are going through the Atlas Mountains and out to the Sarah desert over the next couple of days before heading onto Marrakech, in the south of the country.

Paris in the wintertime

... is cold!

But beautiful.

Were staying in the Marais, which is full of cafes, restaurants, galleries and the gay nightlife. We had a lovely dinner at The Gai Moulin last night complete with ABBA soundtrack and a great deal of air kissing.

Strolling along the Seine with the Lourvre, the Musee D Orsay and the Notre Dame at every turn isnt hard to take. My limited French with some help from a little phrase book has been extremely helpful. Were happy to say that the Parisiens have been so friendly and downright polite, were yearning for a little attitude to make a good story.

Today was a sobering visit to the World War 1 battlefields of Villers Brettoneaux and Le Hamel. The Australian diggers are well commemorated with several beautiful memorials which attest to the 27 000 killed breaking the German lines 1918.

Were in museum overload and if we see another glorious painting from the renaissance itll be one too many. We scaled the Effiel Tower and went to the dizzying heights on the top level. And then promptly lost all the photos from the digital camera. Dont ask!

Off to Morocco tomorrow, but weve got one more night in paris and a bottle of vin rouge waiting for us.

Lovin it in London

After an arduous 24-hour flight we arrived in London on Friday morning bleary eyed, tired, stiff and totally over airline food and in-flight movies. Having said that, we did manage to watch Fast Food Nation, Who Killed the Electric Car and Little Miss Sunshine.

London is great. As long as you don't mind the cold, the wet, the wind and the poms. We haven't been outed to many times as Aussies, but we are loving the pain the cricket's causing.

So far we've visited some impressive sites -- London Tower, Hampton Court, Tate Modern and the British Museum. It's great to see the history of this country. We even got a look at the Royal Jewels, despite being commoners.

The Tube is a great way to move around. We can got anywhere and everywhere with almost no waiting using one card. New Years Eve was a quiet affair. We retired early after seeing one too many mummies at the British Museum and enjoying one too many ales at the Tavern. And the weather was crap!

Will try to post a photo soon.