We went to Morocco.
It is one of those places I have longed to see but hesitated booking to go, I wasn't sure it was a place I'd like to visit if pregnant. Having three months of enforced contraception gave us a window of opportunity for exotic travel, so we grasped it. My fears of food poisoning turned out to be justified, but more on that later.
We went to Fes and Tangier. The latter at the husband's desire to keep it real and see the city feted as a destination for the beat poets and the literary dispossessed, the former because I wanted to see a bit of the touristy sights.
It was amazing. We stayed in guest houses, Riads, that looked like nothing from the outside - just a tiny door in a blank wall, but opened up tardis-like into courtyards dripping with foliage and gleaming with intricate tiles.
We plunged into the Medina (the old town), a space that seems to defy normal compass conventions, turning down blind alley after blind alley in streets so dense and tiny one wrong turn and you could walk into someones house without realising you had left the street behind.
Donkeys roamed these passageways, carrying loads as wide as the street and paying no attention to a couple of British tourists coming the other way.
On the streets that were wide enough for cars, drivers had a cavalier attitude to the laws of the road, just as pedestrians cultivated a kamicazi one. It was exciting, and at times terrifying.
We took a cooking class - learning how to roast aubergines (eggplants) on the hob to achieve the smokey flavour of their salads was worth the price of the class alone.
I had a hamman. A traditional steam then aggressive rub, removing any vestige of dead skin. For someone who has grown use to cheerfully displaying her vagina to anyone with medical training I found having a male attendant diligently scraping my whole body (with the exception of the part covered by my bikini bottoms) quite disconcerting. I resisted the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation until he reached my armpits - there was no keeping a straight face then. Afterwards my skin felt incredible, could this be the closest to baby soft skin I'll ever get?
I practiced my haggling skills. They were terrible. I managed to shave just three pounds off a beautiful leather bag, but it still cost significantly less than I would have spent in the UK so both the trader and I were happy. But, I am shamed to confess, I want the bag not for handbag (too big) or overnight case (too small) rather, how adorable would this look hung over the handles of a pram stuffed with nappies, a spare, tiny, pair of trousers and a bottle or two of milk?
Above all we relaxed. I don't know if it was having finished the pill but this week saw more ... ahem ... relaxation than the last three month combined. We relaxed frequently, and like rabbits. Such a shame it is all for nought until the coil is removed, still practice makes perfect.
But all good things come to an end and unfortunately ours was a premature one. On day 5 we were struck with fairly chronic food poisoning, that is still working its way out of our system in the most base way possible. We spent the last two days of the holiday shut in our room shuttling between the bed and the en suite. The unholy sounds that emanated from that en suite has scarred us both. I am not sure whether the husband and I will ever be able to be fully relaxed in each others company again.