The Flow of Morocco

I am writing to you from the bus, heading west to the coast of Morocco. Oh, what a pleasure it has been to find myself here.

I arrived in Morocco about two weeks ago after spontaneously buying a one-way ticket to Greece, where I ended up spending a month over the holidays. It was good but I could feel a restlessness creeping in. I was craving change. And I found it in another one-way ticket, this time to Morocco.

I landed in Marrakesh with no plans at all. No itinerary, no expectations. Around 3 p.m., I had checked into my accommodation. By 6 p.m., I was riding ATVs through the Agafay Desert with a new friend I had quite literally just met a few hours earlier.

The fresh desert air washed away the stale airport smell clinging to my clothes. We spent the evening watching the sun sink behind the dunes while listening to live traditional Berber music. One of the musicians had the spirit of a bird—the mysterious kind that you can never quite spot in the trees but has a loud, beautiful song . The other musician had the gift of getting everyone on their feet, dancing without hesitation.

We shared delicious Moroccan food—my first tagine, and certainly not my last. When we arrived back to the city we were surprised to see the Medina crowded with people standing shoulder to shoulder. It was the AFCON semi finals and there was a jumbo screen set up for people to watch the game. It was a really big deal because it has been decades since the Moroccan team made it this far. They ended up winning the match and it was such a thrill to share this moment with the locals.

I had nearly forgotten that earlier that day I had been in Greece, rolling out of bed at 4:30 a.m. to catch the train to my flight. The time between those two moments felt enormous. The fatigue eventually caught up to me, and I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

The next morning, I woke up slowly. Enjoying Moroccan tea on the rooftop and basking in the sun. I spent the day wandering the Medina and exploring the souks. It was busy, chaotic, and undeniably beautiful. I fell in love with the colors and the lights—walls draped in handmade rugs, narrow alleyways glowing beneath hundreds of colorful lanterns. I’ve always dreamed of roaming markets like these in Morocco, so I set a simple intention for the day: to get lost and enjoy.

Just outside the intensity of the Medina, I stumbled upon a peaceful garden. The air felt suddenly crisp, and I noticed myself breathing deeper. I spent a couple of hours walking slow laps, exchanging smiles with everyone passing by. People here are incredibly friendly.

While I was there, I was approached by a group of guys doing street interviews around Marrakesh, capturing people’s experiences and perspectives of the city to share its beauty with the world. (You can find their project on Instagram here.) I quickly became friends with one of them, Anouar.

The next day, Anouar and I explored the city together. Although he’s from Marrakesh, he hadn’t visited many of the monuments, so it felt special to experience them for the first time together.

It was a Friday, and here in Morocco it is common for families to get together to share couscous. Anouar invited me to join him and his mother for this meal. Before heading to their home, we stopped at a bathhouse to bring couscous to the women working there—this job doesn't allow them to leave and eat with their families, but this way they can still share a warm meal together. It is a common practice for many moroccans to be extra charitable and share couscous on this day to reinforce community ties. It was an honour to be invited to share this special weekly tradition with them.

The following day, Anouar and I met again in the park, where I interviewed him for my podcast. Oh, by the way - I’m starting a podcast. The idea is to bring it with me on my travels, telling stories and interviewing the people I meet along the way—locals and fellow travellers. I’m still working out the details, but it’s happening!

Our conversation on this episode left me feeling inspired. I wanted to explore more of the country, to meet more people, and to learn about the many ways of life within it. So, I booked a bus to the desert for the next day.

In the morning I journeyed through the rain to the bus station, it took about 45 minutes with walking and the bus. When I finally arrived I learned that due to the weather the bus to M’hamid was cancelled. Apparently there was snow on the road and some flooding.

Frustrated by the lack of communication and rain soaking through my clothes, I turned toward the door and begin walking back to the bus stop to return to the city. I was so excited for the desert, but the forecast called for days of rain. Poor timing on my part. Although I loved Marrakesh, I felt a strong push to go and discover more. In the distance, I spotted a sign for another bus station, one I vaguely remembered someone mentioning. On impulse, I stepped inside and asked for a ticket on the next scheduled bus. I didn’t care where it was going. I just knew I needed to be on it.

The next departure was in 25 minutes, heading to Essaouira—a coastal town in Morocco. And just like that, I find myself traveling in the complete opposite direction than planned. Toward the ocean instead of the desert.

But alas, I am on the road again.