Christmas Eve. Another bout of the storm hit us last night and the flooding on the sixth floor is the worse it has been so far. We quickly decided that a day on the bikes wasn't going to happen. Given the high gale force winds and severe flooding we also decided our chances of retreating to Marrakesh were just as slim, whatever method of transport we could find. We headed out for breakfast encountering our first flooded street almost immediatley. A sharp turn up a tiny lane led us up hill to a slightly dryer street, one we could at least walk down. At the foot of the hill we arrived at our breakfast destination, a cafe at a crossing of two of the busiest closes in the old medina. Instead of the usual hustle and bustle of the morning trade we saw the local shopkeepers desperately sweeping a vast expanse of water towards open sewer covers, the storm drains having backed up days ago. The cafe had suffered the same fate as our room and was clearly the victim of rain penetrating the shoddy window frames. Katie instinctively headed for the only electrical socket under the leak and we had to supply her with a second breakfast to otherwise occupy her mind. After our breakfast of bread, jam, coffee and oh-so-fresh orange juice we tooled up with a camera to try and capture a bit of the flood for the blog. The locals who weren't trying to sweep away the floods were all taking pictures of the squares, alleyways and piazzas and all seamingly oblivious to the alreadty full sewer and drainage system. Should the bad weather hold for another two days as the forecast predicts we will all be knee deep in floaters before we can escape the rocky wind battered outcrop of Essaouira.
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