A package holiday in the package resort of Agadir

These apartments were extremely well placed-off the main thoroughfare, but within easy reach of everywhere in Agadir.

It’s a strange-looking hotel, as all you see from the road is the main door, as the rest of the ground floor is given over to small shops, a bank, and a restaurant. But once through the splendid and elaborate entrance, you’re in for a treat. The beautifully marbled entrance is lavishly decorated in a traditional Moroccan style, and the robed commissionaire and reception staff are ready to make your welcome special.

Behind the reception area, the clean white apartments are arranged around a series of secluded courtyards, giving everyone a feeling of privacy and the illusion that the complex is much smaller than it truly is. Each apartment had large arched windows, domed roofs, and ornate metalwork.

The apartment itself was somewhat basic, but comfortable. Straight in through patio door was a lounge area with a sturdy settee and a TV that would only pick up crackled and distorted pictures. At the rear of the lounge was a compact kitchenette, or large cupboard, that had adequate cutlery and crockery and a twin-ringed oven, but no kettle. What more can I say! The roomy en-suite, Moroccan-styled bedroom was accessed through double-swing doors. The bed was comfortable, but the pillows were flat and insufficient. However, when I asked for additional pillows, these were rapidly provided.

We were on the ground floor, so our patio was less private than some others, but we had loads of space to spread ourselves out and the patio furniture enabled us to have a relaxed lunch near our room. Not that lunch was ever that ambitious since the local supermarkets always seemed very low on supplies (we had to be up early to get bread, and tinned fish seemed to be only thing in abundance), and the apartment snack bar only sold chips, pizza, and ice cream.

The hotel swimming pool was large enough and very well maintained. Terracing made it even more attractive and the backcloth of the bright terracotta-arched, windowed communal lounge; green tiled roofs; white domes of the apartment blocks augmented by the lushness of palm trees; and colourful pot plants made it particularly attractive.

Each morning the pool attendants were quick to provide us with loungers and parasols, and sad to say, we soon became creatures of habit, as they placed them on "our spot" on the upper terrace. From here we had a view across the road and the merest glimpse of the sea.

Some days local craftspeople brought items to the hotel for sale. They were happy to let you look, and there was no attempt to push for a sale. Reception had a well-displayed tourist information service with no pressure advice if you requested it.

All in all, the Iguodar Apartments were comfortable and exceptionally well maintained. All of the staff was friendly and helpful, but not pushy–the perfect balance in my mind.

Le Jazz was a modern, open-fronted restaurant at the base of the Iguodar Apartments. The restaurant was immaculate, with comfortable wicker chairs and nicely laid-out tables. The reception was friendly and laid-back. Certainly it gave a very different impression to many others, as strong attempts were made to cajole you to eat from their kitchen.

You could eat indoors or outdoors, and there seemed to be a consensus view that smoking was not to be encouraged–it wasn’t a non-smoking establishment, but ashtrays weren’t provided unless asked for. We saw very few people smoking. That’s my kind of restaurant–taste the food, not the smoke!

The owner was a French Moroccan who spoke excellent English and was intent on ensuring that we were well cared for. Drinks were very reasonably priced, and there was a good range of aperitifs and a choice of three or four beers. This was the kind of place to relax in, and there was no rush to start eating. Each night there was guest singer who sang a variety of easy-listener/cool-jazz numbers. Sometimes the accent was a little comical, but overall, he had a superb voice and played up to the diners as he worked the tables. But don’t make a request, because the singer and his keyboard accompanist clearly had their playlist sorted out well in advance.

The food was superb and extremely well priced. We’d heard that tourist food was the norm in Agadir. Well, not here. This restaurant served traditional Moroccan food, with not a burger, a pizza, or a chip in sight. Bliss!

It was evident that the food was all individually prepared when steaming hot tajines were bought to the table, their contents ceremoniously revealed to us with a proud smile from the waiter. We’d never before eaten pickled lemon, but these were an interesting addition to some of the meat dishes, and we were rapt by the delicate and aromatic spices that tingled our taste buds. I just loved their Chicken Bastilla, an almond and cinnamon pie (traditionally made with pigeon) and never tired of the Moroccan tajines. The vegetables, couscous, and rice had freshness written all over them, and the deserts were beautifully presented with fresh fruit and creamy yoghurt.

When we ate there, we were always given complimentary after-dinner liquor.

We ate here on our second night and intended, as we usually do on holiday, to eat at different places. However, the service was so good that we ate in this restaurant five or six times and were treated like royalty. Indeed, as we walked past on our final day in Agadir, we were called across to the restaurant and treated, by the owner, to drinks and a snack–an indication as to how much we had been valued, but also as a genuine attempt to wish us well for the future. We had great meals and super nights in this restaurant, and I would heartily recommend that you try it.

Agadir is an historic town without history!

In 1960, the city was razed to the ground by an earthquake, killing in excess of 15,000 inhabitants. The decision to rebuild the town as a tourist package centre was taken, and that is Agadir today. But it is a package resort with a difference, because it has attempted to retain a Moroccan feel to it, and certainly once you move away from the tourist centre, you’ll be in the local’s living area. They are, sadly, a major contrast to the hotels and restaurants, and standards of living are poor. Despite that contrast, we never felt threatened here but were subjected, outside of the tourist centre, to insistent offers of help.

We’d been told that the old fishing port was well worth a visit, as we’d be able to watch the boats coming in and unloading. As this was likely one of the only distinctive features of Agadir, we decide to "go for it". It was a pleasant walk along the front towards the site of the old Medina. This is a hill overlooking the port, called the "Ancienne Talborjt", where the majority of those killed in the earthquake have been buried.

Approaching the fish market, we had to cross derelict land and were "caught up" by a Moroccan who wanted to chat and was "going to see a cousin in the fish market." We tried everything we could to shake this man off, but he clung to us like a rash. He wanted to take us "to the best restaurant" in town and introduce us as "new English friends" to his family. We knew that, unless we were rude, we’d lose this one, so we resigned ourselves to the inevitable; he would try to persuade us to eat at the restaurant (presumably he got a commission), and then he’d want a tip.

We were first taken to see the new catch, and our "guide" insisted that I take photos of him, my wife, and a fish. The variety of fish was interesting, and I guess we wouldn’t have made it to here without his direction.

Then we were led to the "best restaurant". The stench was atrocious, and the restaurant no more than a row of trellis tables with plastic garden chairs. There were flies by the thousand (perhaps I exaggerate a little!). We were introduced to "the cousin" and encouraged to choose our meal. Eating here, however, would have been impossible, as the reek was making us green around our gills. We bid our thanks and tried to make a hasty retreat, but our guide was not to be frustrated; if we weren’t going to eat, then he required a tip. I grabbed the few loose coins from my pocket and shoved them in his hand -- he looked down his nose and said, "I need more". I moved to repossess the small tip, but he disappeared, muttering Moroccan as he went to find his next, hopefully more lucrative, victim.

Shopping in Agadir was great fun (and that’s from a guy who only goes into his local town once or twice a year), and I loved the repartee as we attempted to window shop. Moroccans assume that if you’re looking, you’re likely to buy, and so they want to show their goods and negotiate. I, on the other hand, enjoy the banter and the barter but don’t always want to buy. I think if you are good-humoured and recognise "the game", you can get by.

But in Agadir, we wanted to buy. The souk would cover most things, but leather coats were to be bought from a "proper" shop. Around our hotel were a number of quality shops, and we soon learnt that shopping for leather coats required a real sense of determination on the negotiation front. Try a few on for style and colour, agree you like them, have a mint tea, haggle, and then haggle some more. We were tough –- two jackets is a strong negotiating position, and the price was going to be low. We agreed on a price and were happy until we realised that the colour preferred by my wife was not available in her size. "No problem," says our new ‘friend’, "I’ll have one made overnight." True to his word, it was made and fit perfectly!

It was a 20-minute walk from our hotel to the souk, up a bit of a slope, but nothing too energetic. We were prepared for the advances of the locals who would want to guide us, and we were determined to deal with them swiftly and efficiently. What a sense of achievement, as the first two were rebuffed. "No thank-you," I said firmly, "we know where we’re going." They nodded apologetically and left us to our own devices. But we blew our cover as we paused, a few yards from the entrance, to take a photo of grazing sheep at the side of the road. This time, our self-appointed guide would not be shaken off. He would show us places that were hard to find and ensure that we got good deals. We ignored him, told him to "go away", and finally gave up and walked out of the market, only to sneak back in at another entrance. The things you must do to remain independent!

The souk was packed with stalls baring spices, jeans, shirts, leather wares, wooden boxes, sandals, and a whole food section (both alive and dead). We had a great time and got some real bargains, including beautifully finished wooden boxes, comfortable sandals, "designer clothes", and a range of aromatic and colourful spices. All were bartered for, and many came with a chat and a complimentary mint tea. The polo shirts (I’m still wearing them two years on) came after the stall owner chased me round the market, having reconsidered the derisory offer I’d made.

When shopping, throw caution to the wind and haggle to your heart's content. It can be enjoyable and financially beneficial.

Essaouira is a very attractive small harbour town 80 miles to the north of Agadir. It was, for a long time, a fortified Portuguese trading port, and it still has an extremely fine fortress.

We entered the walled town through the very impressive archway of the South Bastion and weaved our way through the grid of wide streets (an unusual contrast to the typical maze of Moroccan alleyways). We stumbled across small enclosed courtyards by narrow passageways, finding interesting market areas or spots where local men gathered to play backgammon, smoke, or just discuss the weighty issues of the day. Women folk, in their yashmaks, passed us in the shopping areas, and many children, as seems to be customary in a country where education is an expensive luxury, help in the family trade of metalwork or polishing the wood of treenware.

We walked through a series of tunnels to find ourselves on the ascent to the ramparts of Skala du Port, past a number of small workshops and trading stalls set in the fortress arches. At the top we saw a row of cannons lined up and pointing out to the fierce sea with waves breaking on the stony outcrops. As Essaouira (known as Magador to the Portuguese) was an important gateway to Europe and a centre of trade to northern Africa, it is really not surprising that they had built sturdy and well-defended fortifications. Down below we see the harbour and the wide sandy beach, which we saw the full extent of when we drove out of Essaouira. Certainly it’s easy to understand why this resort is so popular with windsurfers.

Walking down to the harbour, we enjoyed looking in the numerous shops, being pleased that we’d bought our treenware at the Agadir Souk (which had much cheaper prices than those in Essaouira) and rising to the challenge of a small corner stall trading in Berber hats. Just the job, I think, for the long cold days back in Nottingham, as I do my bargaining with the stallholder. He pulls various faces to signify his unhappiness, but finally, we agree a price to my benefit. I just can’t understand why my wife thought it odd that I would want to wear my newly purchased trophy in the heat of the Moroccan day.

There’s a lot of restoration going on in Essaouira, a sign, we guessed, of the wealth bought by tourism, but even so, most tradesmen seemed to prefer horse-drawn transport. Talk about going back in time!

The harbour was rammed with blue fishing boats, and canopied restaurants packed the waterside. Once you get used to the smell, you’ll be able to enjoy the taste of freshly grilled sardines.

On the road to Agadir, keep an eye out for the goats that feed off the trees. It’s a fascinating sight to see these agile animals climbing the trees to feed off the vegetation. Have your camera ready, but don’t be surprised to see the outstretched hand of the goat herder!