Dag 74 en 75: Agadir na Marrakech

(English Translation Below)
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Dag 74 en 75: Agadir na Marrakech
 
Snelweg! Ons het voor die toer laas 120km/h gery. Twee perde wat stal ruik. Die pad kronkel deur die Atlasberge, duik deur 'n tonnel, en dan, aan die Noordekant, tref die koue lug ons. Europa is naby, maar daar is nog vier dae se ry oor. Ons moet kophou. Wil nie in die pylvak struikel nie.
 
In Marrakech bly ons 'n dag oor sodat ons die antieke dorp kan besoek. 'n Gevoel kan kry van 'n ander wêreld in 'n vorige era. Ons het ook logistieke reelings om te tref. Dit begin al hoe meer lyk asof ons plan om die motorfietse vanaf Rotterdam te verskeep, nie vir ons gaan werk nie. Té duur, té veel maande, die Suid-Afrikaanse hawens té oorvol. Ons begin pryse te kry om die motorfietse terug te vlieg. Dis duurder maar die proses lyk skoner en natuurlik vinniger. Dan kom die boodskap vanuit Madrid: Die Husqvarna handelaar daar sal die motorfietse koop, maar wil net sekermaak oor die papierwerk om dit wettig uit- en in te voer. Dis 'n gerondbellery tussen Trax Moto Pretoria, Husqvarna Suid-Afrika, Husqvarna Spanje, Motos Arribas Madrid en Husqvarna Hoofkantoor Oostenryk. Niemand het nog ooit twee Husqvarnas vanaf Suid-Afrika stroomop terug uitgevoer Europa toe nie.
 
Dan loop ons na die ou dorp toe. In die Marrakech medina glip mens heen en weer in tyd. Die doolhof van stegies en klipstraatjies is nog soos eeue gelede, maar die plek loop nou oor van toeriste-gemorsies. Dis armbande en serpe en T-hemde en borde en magnete en belde en handsakke en skoene en teekoppies en dolke en horlosies en hoede en musse en baadjies en skilderye en matte. Slange wat dans vir 'n lewe. 'n Apie aan 'n tou wat truuks moet doen. Later wil mens net uit. Ons het die Afrika-gespook om oorlewing weer teruggeruil vir die Westerse web van koop-koop-koop.
 
Terug by ons blyplek sit ons op die balkon en eet kaas en sardientjies en soutkoekies. Drink 'n bier. Kyk vir nuwe nuus oor die motorfietse. Besef ons wil nou net huistoe gaan.
 
Day 74 and 75: Agadir to Marrakech
 
Highway! We haven't ridden at 120km/h since our tour began. Two horses catching a whiff of the stable. The road winds through the Atlas Mountains, dives through a tunnel, and then, on the northern side, the cold air hits us. Europe is close, but there are still four days of riding ahead. We need to keep our wits together. No stumbling in the final stretch!
 
In Marrakech, we stay an extra day to visit the ancient village. To get a sense of a world from a lost era. We also have logistical arrangements to make. It's starting to look more and more like our plan to ship the motorcycles from Rotterdam won't work for us. Too expensive, too many months, the South African ports too congested. We're getting quotes to fly the motorcycles back. It's pricier, but the process looks cleaner and of course faster. Then comes the message from Madrid: The Husqvarna dealer there will buy the motorcycles but wants to make sure about the paperwork for legal export and import. It's a round robin between Trax Moto Pretoria, Husqvarna South Africa, Husqvarna Spain, Motos Arribas Madrid, and Husqvarna Headquarters Austria. No one has ever exported two Husqvarnas from South Africa upstream to Europe.
 
Then we walk to the old village. In the Marrakech medina, one slips back and forth in time. The labyrinth of alleys and cobblestone streets is still like centuries ago, but the place is now overflowing with touristy clutter. Bracelets and scarves and T-shirts and plates and magnets and belts and bags and shoes and teacups and daggers and watches and hats and beanies and jackets and paintings and carpets. Snakes dancing for a living. A monkey on a rope doing tricks. Later, we just want to get out. We traded the African struggle for survival for the Western web of buy-buy-buy.
 
Back at our accommodation, we sit on the balcony and eat cheese and sardines and salty crackers. Have a beer. Check for new news about the motorcycles. Realize we just want to go home now.

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