“You are going to suffer tomorrow, oui?” says our lovely French host Florence, with a deep laugh and a twinkle in her eye. Looking out over the dry Ait Ourir valley towards the snow capped High Atlas Mountains in the distance, I think she may be right. But that’s tomorrow…

We are a day in to our bike tour and are already falling in love with this place. Morocco seems to have a warmth that comes from beyond the sun. We feel it in the smiles, waves and shouts of “bonjour monsieur” we get along the road and the helpful nature Moroccans exude.

After arriving, we spent a day in Marrakech, putting our bikes together and wandering the narrow and labyrinthine passages of the old city’s souks. We assemble our bikes, enjoy a delicious dinner at a food stall in the central market, and fall asleep at our riad, Palais Khum.

The following morning we set out on our bikes, euphoric to be headed out on another adventure. As seems to be our style, we take the long way out of town (Allegra: “We basically just circled the city…”) and eventually find our way. We stop for lunch at a cafe showing “El Classico”, a clash of soccer giants Barcelona and Madrid. We make lots of friends cheering enthusiastically for Barca, including this classy guy.

Arriving via a long dirt road at our small hotel in what feels like the middle of nowhere, we fall in love with the architecture, deep red mud walls and a gorgeous courtyard with bougainvillea and pomegranate. After a delicious dinner of lamb raging with prunes and almonds, we fall asleep luxuriating in the deep quiet of the Moroccan countryside.