Search for the Centre d’Hygiene

AND A CONFUSING DISCUSSION

Navigating through the city centre of Kenitra turns out to be a test for the nerves during this motorhome trip through Morocco. Although the advice of the receptionist at Camping Ocean Blue was clear, the execution forces us to extreme concentration in the swirling traffic.

Everywhere, mopeds and cars shoot like unguided projectiles through the streets, while the smell of burning diesel and the bright sun penetrate the windows.

Traffic rules only act as vague suggestions here. Despite the hectic pace, necessity drives us forward: the rabies vaccine must be administered today.

Meeting doctor Jasmine

Looking for a medical support point, we find doctor Jasmine after many wanderings. Her white coat stands out sharply against the dusty street outside. She shakes her head at the sight of our papers. The specific vaccine is not in stock here.

“Vous devez vous rendre au centre d’hygiène,” she explains patiently. Although time is running out, we have to go back into the city jungle in search of this specific health centre near the hospital.

That doesn’t bode well

Finding the right ward within the hospital complex results in a shady spectacle. Once inside we find some ladies who are completely occupied by the refurnishing of their office; tables are moved and files moved while we wait uncertainly.

Suddenly, one of them, who is fluent in English, accepts our papers. Her frown as she studies the note from Oualidia does not bode well. 

What follows is a confusing discussion about data that turned out to be incorrect. While the uncertainty about the validity of my previous treatment increases, the exact error remains unclear for a long time.

In the end, a miscalculation in the previous city turns out to be the culprit. With a calm hand, the doctor corrects the schedule on a paper calendar.

Patience is rewarded when preparations for the injection finally begin. Because I was bitten at an earlier stage of this journey, I must follow this schedule closely.

As the doctor prepares the liquid, I realise that this is only the second injection; after that, three more will follow, spread over the coming weeks.

The vaccine is skilfully administered, causing some of the tension to slip from my shoulders. My protection against this deadly disease is now back on schedule, although the road to full immunity will still be long. More on that later.

Patches of plastic in the trees

The journey continues via the toll road to Bahchou, where the R418 takes us deeper inland. In the villages on the route there is an unprecedented activity due to the local market day.

An anthill of people, donkeys and heavily loaded carts busk the way, causing a fascinating delay.

At the same time, a sad phenomenon stands out in the landscape. Thousands of colourful scraps of plastic hang in the branches of the trees, as a macabre reminder of the recent floods.

The washing water has carried all the garbage with it and left it in the greenery. Large parts of the land are still white, and temporary lakes mirror the distant contours of the hills.

Almost parking in the pool

Arriving at the hotel in the vicinity of Ouazzane, a surreal parking lot awaits us. An employee gestures with big waves that the motorhome should be parked on the tiled plateau right next to the pool.

We park the camper at the edge of the pool. It feels unnatural to manoeuvre so close to the water’s edge, but shortly afterwards, we look from our side window straight into the shimmering basin.

At the reception, the girls receive us warmly and even a little exuberant when they can test their knowledge of English on us. However, their boss turns out to be a sullen character with a short fuse.

As we often say when we meet someone who doesn’t value customer friendliness: “He hasn’t been to a course yet”.

When I accidentally drive a little too far on the tiled platform of the pool, I am treated to fierce, disapproving gestures. The next morning, too, his resounds against the staff on the site.

Harira and a watchful eye

Despite the surly owner, the evening offers a welcome rest in the restaurant. It is pleasantly busy with local guests, which is always a good omen for the quality of the cuisine.

The spicy scent of harira fills the room, and the tajine with tender chicken tastes exquisite. Including bread and water, we charge a reasonable 300 dirhams (30 euros).

At the campsite restaurant, we try the harira. It turns out to be highly recommended. After the meal, we speak to the night watchman, who proudly tells us that he watches over the guests every night. As the temperature in the hills drops, his presence gives a feeling of security.

Tomorrow we continue to the blue city of Chefchaouen, hopefully the crown on this eventful stage of our motorhome trip through Morocco.