Day 197 - Couscous, Goodbyes and a Last-Minute Visa Scare

Our final full day in Sidi Kaouki started much like many of the others.

Kia and I were both awake early again, so we quietly slipped out to make our morning coffees before heading up to the rooftop. From there we watched the ocean roll in beneath a grey Moroccan sky while the village slowly came to life around us. It had become one of our favourite daily rituals during our time here.

We knew it was going to be a busy day. Bags needed packing, plans needed finalising, and later that afternoon we had a traditional couscous cooking experience organised through our accommodation.

The morning was mostly spent getting ourselves organised. The kids happily entertained themselves with Lego, colouring and drawing while we sorted gear and worked through the never-ending challenge of fitting an entire family’s life back into a collection of backpacks and suitcases.

A tiny amount of schoolwork was completed. I checked a few work emails. We briefly considered heading down to the beach one last time, but the weather wasn’t interested in cooperating. The wind was howling, the ocean was rough, and the conditions weren’t inviting at all. Sidi Kaouki wasn’t putting on a farewell performance for us, but that was okay.

For breakfast we grabbed some fresh bread rolls, avocado and tomatoes from a local shop and made simple avocado and tomato sandwiches with salt and pepper. While we were eating, I got chatting with a father and daughter visiting from Poland.

Like so many Polish travellers we’d met throughout our journey, they were incredibly friendly and curious. We spent quite a while talking about Australia, travel and life in general. It was one of those unexpected conversations that reminds you how much travel is really about people rather than places.

For lunch I wandered down to grab tacos and chips from a local takeaway. On the way, I stopped by the surf shop to pay for the bodyboards we’d hired the previous day. Unfortunately, the owner wasn’t there. After waiting around for a while with food in hand, I decided I’d have to try again later.

Back at the accommodation, Kia and I found ourselves once again deep in discussions about the next stage of our journey.

The conversation felt familiar.

“We’ve made a decision.”

“What are we doing?”

“This feels right.”

“Maybe it’s completely wrong.”

“We should do it.”

“Should we?”

The emotional rollercoaster of long-term travel planning was still in full swing. One moment we felt excited and energised. The next we felt overwhelmed and exhausted. Decision fatigue is very real, especially after months of constantly organising accommodation, transport, visas, budgets and future plans.

Then the day threw us one final curveball.

I decided it would be a good idea to check in for our flight from Marrakech to London the following morning.

That seemed like a sensible task.

It turned out to be anything but.

As I worked through the online check-in process, a message appeared asking for our UK ETA approval number.

Our what?

Neither Kia nor I had any idea what it was talking about.

We’ve both travelled to London before and had never needed any sort of visa or electronic travel authorisation. As far as we knew, Australians could simply arrive in the United Kingdom without any special pre-approval. It was the first we’d heard of the new Electronic Travel Authorisation (ETA) system.

A quick internet search wasn’t particularly comforting.

The information we found suggested approvals could take up to three days.

We were flying the next morning.

Cue panic.

Suddenly our relaxed afternoon disappeared as we scrambled to figure out what we needed to do. I jumped onto the application website and started entering details as quickly as possible. Passports came out. Everyone needed photographs. There were face scans, identity checks and forms to complete for all four of us.

For a little while, it genuinely felt like we might have made a very expensive mistake.

After months of planning flights, accommodation, border crossings and logistics, somehow we’d completely missed this requirement.

Thankfully, after submitting the applications, something remarkable happened.

Within minutes the approvals started arriving.

One after another.

All four approved.

The collective sigh of relief in our room could probably have been heard across Sidi Kaouki.

It was a lucky escape and a reminder that even after more than six months on the road, travel still has a way of throwing unexpected surprises at you. We weren’t sure whether we’d missed something in our research or whether the new requirement had simply slipped under our radar, but either way it was stressful. Hopefully it wouldn’t happen again.

With that crisis behind us, it was finally time for our cooking lesson.

We walked to Fatima’s home, where she welcomed us in and began teaching us how traditional Moroccan couscous is prepared.

The process was far more involved than we expected.

We chopped vegetables, cleaned ingredients and helped prepare the various cooking stages. One pot sat on a small floor burner slowly cooking vegetables and broth. A pressure cooker simmered away on the stove, filled with chicken, vegetables, sultanas and fragrant spices.

Above the main pot sat a steaming basket packed with couscous.

After some time, Fatima removed the couscous, mixed what seemed like an extraordinary amount of butter through it, then returned it to the steamer to continue cooking. The aromas filling the room were incredible.

The meal still had more than an hour to cook, so after sharing tea and traditional biscuits with Fatima, we headed back to our accommodation to finish the last-minute jobs before departure day.

At 8pm we returned for dinner.

When Fatima began plating up the couscous, our jaws nearly hit the floor.

The serving wasn’t designed for a family of four.

It looked like it could comfortably feed twenty people.

Towering piles of couscous, vegetables and chicken filled massive serving dishes. We did our absolute best, but barely made a dent in the mountain of food placed before us.

Thankfully there were plenty of other guests back at the accommodation who were happy to help.

We shared the feast with another Polish couple who now live in Morocco, along with a lovely couple from Casablanca enjoying a holiday in Sidi Kaouki. It became one of those relaxed travel evenings where strangers gather around food, share stories and enjoy each other’s company.

A fitting way to spend our final night.

Before heading to bed, we said our goodbyes to Mohammed and Ali from the accommodation.

Throughout our stay they had done everything they could to make us comfortable and welcome. They were wonderful with the kids, always helpful and genuinely kind people. We took a few final photos together and thanked them for looking after us during our time in Sidi Kaouki.

In true Moroccan fashion, when we tried to settle our breakfast account, Mohammed admitted he hadn’t actually been keeping track of how many breakfasts we’d eaten.

After some rough calculations and plenty of laughter, we agreed on a number that seemed fair and settled up.

I also left the money for the surf shop owner with Mohammed so he could pass it on later.

And with that, our final full day in Morocco came to an end.

The bags were packed.

The goodbyes had been said.

Tomorrow, Morocco would be behind us.

A new country, a new chapter and a whole new set of adventures awaited.