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Morrocco was unique. Like no other place in Europe.
They stayed in a campsite near Rabat for two days, and it was tolerable. There were a lot of stray cats around. They also went on a dodge cars thing, and the queuing system was all over the place. The toilets in the campsite were simply appalling however. Shit coated them, they were squat down toilets with broken doors.
Then they went to Marrakech. The campsite there was fine. Nice enough, nothing spectacular. Marrakech was amazing.
They went in the souks. They were amazing. Atmospheric. It was busy and bustling, full of people. They brought little goods, and at night, it was intriguing. The main square at night was full of people. A snake charmer tried to con them, and sort of managed. They ate tagine at a restaurant. And drank morroccon mint tea, heavily laden with sugar.
There were downsides. Darker parts, felt far more keenly by albus in particular, though all of them a bit. Dancing monkeys, kept on a small chain, performing. Snakes with there mouths sewn shut. The food market, a large covered market, with live chickens being killed, dead sharks and other animals hung up for sale, including hooves. Chickens in cages, or tied to the floor. Flies everywhere. Rotting meat and veg in the filthy water that pooled around there sandaled feet. It stank, too, of rot and death, and despair.
But the biggest downside was that homosexuality was a crime. Illegal. Unlike the Netherlands, which was the first country to legalize same sex marriage, and all the other countries, here it was a crime. And that fact hurt albus and scorpius badly.
After Marrakech they went to ouzazarte. Drove through the mountains. They went round the atlas film studios, which were impressive, and they went to Aït Benhaddou. Then they met an English couple, with a yellow Landover, who invited them to tag along into the desert. They drove, off rode enough that an ordinary car would have broke. And it was victoires birthday, which added to the excitement.
Ouzazarte was enjoyable. But after that, they headed into the mountains for a nightmare adventure.
They drove into the mountains, and at first it seemed fine. Enjoyable. Exciting. Then the roads got narrower, steeper, more scary.
The views were stunning. But they drove for all day, and it was nothing short of terrifying. The roads got narrower still, and they were in the middle of nowhere. No people.
They got lost. They were on a small winding rode, sheer drop on one side, cliff on the other.
Snow, all around. You could barely see far at all, and albus felt horribly trapped.
It was peaceful, in a way, eerily so. If there car plunged off the mountain, it would not be recovered.
They met no other cars, but occasionally mules, or donkeys, or foot traffic, came past. The people who lived in the mountains.
They got to a slightly safer part, less sheer. They could not stop for the night, had no food for dinner, they kept going. Until they broke down.