Ocean City for Saudis (minus funnel cake, plus whores)

After leaving the delightful (and touristy) Essouria, I caught a bus down the coast for Agadir. The bus passed through miles and miles of goats in trees and by breathetaking bluffs before arriving at the very clean and modern Agadir. (The goats in trees eat nuts that are later harvested from their poo to make fine oils for expensive cooking).

Strangely, I miss the dirt, hassle and poverty of the north. I have entered a beach holiday city for people that don't get into swimsuits and hate to tan. Oh sure, there are a few French people, but Moroccans and Saudis line the boardwalk, eating ice cream and holding hands (the men hold hands with eachother, that is). The Saudis are easy to spot. They are much fatter than Moroccans and the women either wear super-eloborate, princess-like covering or sweatsuits.

Cheezy restaurants that sport live singers line the boardwalk. Again, McDonalds is the best place to watch the sun set. Beggers are well fed, well groomed and put in little effort. I'm assuming that any woman who sits at a cafe alone in this town is a prostitute. Like any other beach city, other than eat and people watch, there's not much to do. Supposedly there's an active club life here, but I don't have much urge to pay western prices to dance with prostitutes at 3 am.

I never understood the existance of places like Ocean City. The expensive, yet trashy appeal seems to be universal. I'll be off to mountains again tomorrow.