Two Different Places

Making my way ever south, I stopped for a couple of days in Agadir, and a couple of days in Sidi Ifni.
Agadir has a reputation as a horrid package destination, although to be fair, it is quite a pleasant place. I guess being off-season helps, as it was pretty quiet, and I drank coffee and read the paper on the beachfront.
Most of the holidaymakers appeared to be elderly Scandinavians, and the restaurants abound with Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, and Finnish menus.
There was a reasonable number of touts, trying the old, 'Remember me from your hotel?' trick, and a faint whiff of dead animal, when the wind was blowing the wrong way. Prices also seemed a little higher, and one cheeky stallholder had marked up the newspaper prices. Needless to say, he didn't get my custom...
Sidi Ifni is a different story altogether, and appears to be half deserted. The Spanish kept it as an enclave until 1969, then they all just left, which explains the crumbling colonial buildings, and massive disused airfield.
It sits high on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic, and the waves throw up a fine mist which lingers in the town. All this lends itself to a slightly eerie atmosphere.
The beach under the cliff stretches north and south for miles, and the countryside around is rocky hills that stretch on forever.
To get there I had to take a 'Grand Taxi', which is actually just a big car, that they cram in 2 people in the front, and 4 in the back, and it leaves when it is full. It's pretty uncomfortable to be honest.
From Sidi Ifni, it is a long 700 miles or so south through Western Sahara, to reach the Mauritanian border. The time had come to start taking my malaria pills (one week before arriving in malaria area). Apparently some side effects are strange, vivid dreams, and dodgy bowel movements. How am I supposed to know if it's the pills or not?!