In Sidi Kaouki, the road stops at a long stretch of ochre sand beach, which continues on as far as one can see. The Atlantic crashes and the sky is vast.
Camels sit folded, ready for a slow saunter, but our appetites always point us straight to the Inn. It lies within a sleepy enclave of surfer hotels that have hosted wayward wind warriors for the last 20 years. We are there to eat. Continue reading…