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Again, my love is on the other side of the planet and I’m counting the days till I’ll see him again. After a lot of traveling we’re ready to settle down and create a home where both of us belong. We’re going back to where it all started to water the seeds we planted there.

Until then we got some delayed posts from London and South Africa to share with you.

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I must say we got the hang of negotiating at the souks. I kind of got a kick of dealing nice stuff into good prices, and I didn’t mind if I walked away knowing I could get it cheaper, cause that’s how the sellers earn their living.

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As Im laying safe and sound in my couch back in Oslo, I can’t believe the life is still going on there. Henna-ladies were grabbing my arms, and guys were running after us with snakes or a monkey on their shoulder trying to get some coins. One week was definitely enough for my calm, norwegian mind.

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In our last minutes in Marrakech the sky decided to open up, and tables and jewellery were floating in the streets. The wind was playing hard with the handcrafts, but the locals were screaming of happiness because of the rain.

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Like the other tourists we ran. Soaking wet we had to catch the bus back to Agadir. We bought an umbrella that broke in half and got almost run over by a motorcycle. But we laughed and laughed.

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At the bus station we collected our last coins and bought a whole bag of sweets and chips. This time we got the right bus, changed into dry clothes and fell asleep – happy about our crazy little adventure.

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I went to Morocco with what I thought was enough knowledge about the religion and culture, and when it comes to clothing you should avoid showing shoulders, legs and of course cleavage. But the most important thing is to show respect. I read several places on internet that Jemaa-el-Fna is such a touristic place that the locals don’t mind people that are a little dressed down.

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So I went out with a short skirt this morning.

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Well, to keep the story short: We ran back in after thirty minutes, and my boyfriend was not in a good mood. Haha.

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My jeans are on and I’m ready to shop like crazy! You can find all kinds of beautiful things in these markets. Pictures are coming up!

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We manage to buy bus tickets from an unknown bus company on our way to Marrakech. All the other tourists stand in line in front of a huge, comfortable traveling-bus that we were suppose to travel with. When we’re entering an old, crowded bus with all the locals. The worst part is that we paid the same as the other tourists. Well, that’s traveling: making mistakes and enjoying the ride. That’s how you get nice stories to tell.

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Arriving in Marrakech three hours later we escape the chaos by jumping in a taxi. The driver stops at a corner and asks us to walk from there.

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As we walk the streets get narrower and narrower, and the no-stopping Marrakech-noise slowly disappears. We pass a million doors before we find the right one.

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We’re staying at Riad Catalina. For us, who came straight from the dirtiest and least charming apartment I’ve ever been in, this was heaven; a magical garden with white doves drinking water from the fountain. We get served mint tea in traditional style before we get a little tour to the rooms we can choose from.

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I didn’t think it was possible, but peace enters my whole body and mind in this incredible, and a little crazy, city.

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Today is the hottest day so far. Again we woke up early to catch the first waves, I sit at a rock getting a lot of attention from the surfers who wants shots of them riding the waves. The sun is burning through my jeans and I’m more than ready to leave after four hours. We eat a wonderful meal at the resort where we also clean ourselves up and lay down in the reception couch. Stuffed and happy we’re heading back to the water again. (I know… Surfers.)

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Tomorrow we’re off to Marrakech. We’re gonna stay at a riad and go to the markets, I hope to get some nice pictures to show you guys.

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We got a couple of new friends yesterday, Sandy and Lucky. They were keeping me company when Gabi was surfing this morning. If any guys approached me they started barking. I guess they know who I belong to.

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I’m writing in a room with air condition and a mojito in my hand. We found a beautiful resort not far away where we can breathe in clean air, eat well-cooked food and let our shoulders down for a while. But we’re definitely still in Morocco. The architecture is amazing. There are cute details and bright colours in every corner.

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Surfing time again, au revoir!

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Hello friends. This morning we went for a walk through the typical, narrow streets of Morocco. The locals had already put up the tables and started eagerly to show  us their homemade carpets, jewlery and lamps. The sellers can be very pushy, but we`re getting used to the rythm of this place and have learned the useful word la which means no.

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We`re heading out for lunch. Speak later!

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We’re walking. A lot. Trying to get to know the place and the different waves. We try to negotiate with some taxi drivers to drop us off at a surfing spot, but they won’t accept our prize. It seems hopeless when both of us are too polite to ask twice.

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We’re resting our legs at a cliff. An old guy is fishing in the burning sun. But he seems to enjoy it as the waves are crashing on the rocks and throws up raindrops over him.

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We eat lunch at a typical beach bar. Around us we hear languages and accents from all over the world. We’re guessing where the people are from and feed a cute dog that’s circling around our feet before we move on.

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A young girl with brown curls walks past me. She is shy, but seems interested in the camera. I smile to her and with a soft voice she says “bonjour”. And keeps walking on. My heart melted for a second.

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Watching my boyfriend riding the waves takes me back to Brazil and many happy moments. He keeps looking to land to see if I’m ok- and if I’m paying attention to him.

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I’m reading a beautiful script in the sunset. In front of me, the love of my life is doing what he loves most, and at the top of that we‘re in Morocco- Together! A boy from Brazil and a girl from Norway who met in Los Angeles… I don’t know who or what to thank. But I’m grateful every day!

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 We’re tired and sick on the long bus ride from the airport. Outside the window people dressed in beautiful djellabas are walking in the dark. We see palm trees decorated with colourful lights, small houses and the traffic is as we expected: Chaotic and noisy.

A talkative, local guy shows us to our apartment. The smell is the first thing that hits me. It’s almost unbearable. The dirt is not even swept in the corners, but covers the whole floor. The living room looks like a sleeping hall with thick, wool blankets on the walls and in our bed, they smell like cat pee.

He is proudly showing Gabi the view from the balcony.  My kind boyfriend is smiling and looks amazed at the tiny street under us.

We go to bed early and don’t know how we should react to all the new impressions, but we are excited to explore the unknown. We fall asleep to the sound of the motorcycles honking.

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We wake up five in the morning. It’s time for their morning prayer. We take some pictures of the view that totally changed it’s outfit during the night and hurry out the door.