Run Rabat Run Run Run!

We thought yesterday would be a quick sprint 200kms from Fes to Rabat for the Mauritanian visas but we must be adjusting our body clocks to the Moroccan time zone! Taking the national grade road rather than motorway we knew would add time on the journey but there would be comparetivley zero opportunity for adventure blasting along at 70mph. For example a road side cafe in a tiny town enroute was a good break, a tangine stacked high with slow cooked lamb and yellow marinated potatoes and carrots washed down with nana, our now favourite sweet mint tea, great for accompanying pavement side anthropology!
Many roads in Morocco seem to take longer to ride than expected, this short 200kms took until mid afternoon. The Mauritanian consulate wasn't hard to find though with Robin on the case but asking in the queue brought bad news; applications in the morning, issuing the *following* afternoon. Two more city days =/ The countryside riding had been so good the mountains and villages beyond beckoned and we sat around the ruined and stork topped Roman settlement of Chellah resisting the inevitable hotel hunt and tout wrangling ahead.

Actually this time it was a pleasant surprise. After trying the coast road out of town for a hotel we got chatting with two guys fixing some trim on a Renault, they turned out to be the local off duty bobbies, an excellent couple of lads and an opportunity to pick up some tips for dealing with the traffic cops! They also helped us out finding a great hotel and securing the bikes, no kickbacks, just genuinely welcoming, fab, nous Gendamerie amies!

We ate in the medina; several pan fried meats in flat breads prepared by a Moroccan Brian Blessed and served by his son. Robin reckoned he was the real Bab Tazza they had named the town after.