After not travelling for 4 years I was feeling as though my oxygen supply was slowly getting turned off! I was feeling weaker in myself, less determined about life and generally down and out. I blamed a large proportion of this on the fact that had no money and couldn’t afford to travel, I was getting older and I was single, yet again after my 20th attempt at a relationship!! Is this the way life is once you grown up and start to settle; monotonous and uninspiring? Or am I just being unreasonably self indulgent, and expecting the too much?
I had left home at 19 years of age and worked and backpacked for 2.5 years around eastern USA and Europe. Within my first week away I had become addicted to the thrill of the unknown, the adventure and the feeling of being alive! Everyday of those 2.5 years was an epic adventure from the moment I opened my eyes each morning to when I lay exhausted or drunk in my bed each night, there was never a dull moment.
So to go from living my life like there was no tomorrow and knowing that there would be a new adrenaline fix (or bottle of vodka) just around the corner to then come home and live NORMALLY was horrifying and worst of all, depressing! The thought of the three “R’s” (routine, regularity & rules) was enough to send me insane! How do people live like this? I could not fathom why anybody would actually ‘want’ to live like this!
However, sure enough four years down the track I find that I am one of ‘those’ people who had the three R’s set in place and followed them day in and day out. I could feel myself getting scared of the thought of travelling, of being alone and some where strange. I had forgotten what it felt like to have the rush of the travel bug in your veins, that infectious, addictive ecstasy that takes over your life. That was until I managed to win myself a trip to Marrakech, Morocco in November 2008. Working in the travel industry there are always incentives & promotions running and I just happened to find myself as a random winner on the trip of a life time. An all expenses paid, eight day holiday to Marrakech flying business class and staying in a 5 star resort. I have to admit, business class and five star resorts have never been my style. I am a self confessed penny pincher who would rather fly with a cheap dodgy airline and risk being on the next episode of Air Crash Investigation than let go of my hard earned cash. I have chosen to sleep in a public park in Spain during the Running of the Bulls with nothing more than my sleeping bag rather than pay for an overpriced hostel room and have run the risk of walking the back streets of Athens late at night alone (looking back I shudder at my stupidity) in search of a cheap room! So to find myself on board an aircraft in a superior business class seat with a built in massage system that occasionally made you feel slightly violated, sipping on a G&T, champagne then white & finally red wine was all a little surreal. I adapted to this new style of travelling in record time and realised that marrying a rich man was not just a nice idea but a necessity if I was to continue in this fashion.
We arrived in Casablanca exhausted after 25 hours travelling, I should have been ready to collapse however and as we drove to Marrakech I could feel myself coming to life like a hibernating animal at the beginning of spring. I was feeling alive again and I was tingling all over as if I was my first time. The scenery was magnificent, with odd shaped paddocks in rich browns, bronzes and greens as far as the eye could see. A little oasis would pop up out of no where with palm trees and rich pastures and then in the blink of an eye you would be looking at a decrepit mud brick hovel that someone called home. There were men using donkeys to haul a plough through a rough paddock, children riding donkey’s bare back with no bridle rounding up goats and cars were pulled up on the side of the highway with their drivers kneeling on the tarmac praying. For three hours I was glued to the window of our mini bus snapping away with my cheap Aldi camera at the incredible scenes as we drove past. The oxygen supply that I felt was being turned off on me had now been turned to full flow and I was sucking it in like a new born baby. The adrenaline rush, the absolute thrill and frenzy of being a traveller was hitting me and finally after 4 years I was feeling alive.
You could tell we were getting closer to the city because there were more and more donkeys on the road lugging carts that out sized them three to one. They would be pulling anything from carts of timber or rugs to clothing and chickens! At first glance the city looked shabby and decomposed with feeble old shacks and stalls lining the streets, crumbling fences and bridges, chickens running wild and the occasional donkey just hanging out in the middle of a half constructed intersection. But then once I looked a little deeper I realised that there were immaculate gardens in the middle of these intersections full of elegant roses and splashes of colour, there were lush green manicured parks behind tall French style iron fences full of fruit trees with braches sagging from their heavy burden. The amount of pride and effort put into the presentation of this city was humbling.
By now my face was permanently indented into the window of our mini bus. I was “ooing” and “arring” like a mad woman in a frenzy and probably driving everyone else crazy. I kept screeching to them all ‘oh, look out that window’ then a split second later ‘oh, look here. Did you see that?’ I was in over drive and had no plans of pulling on the break, I was just warming up!
We reached our resort which was an absolute heaven designed around plantations of mature olive trees with rose gardens & water fountains, traditional architecture with high ceilings and open aired walkways. I could have sworn I had been swept back in time and was actually in the grounds of an elegant palace a thousand years ago. All of this just cemented the fact that I must marry for money, love could never buy me such a thing!
Our itinerary was basically all free time, we had five days to play, relax, explore and be free. Everyone was in chill out mode after our journey and ready to hit the pool and cocktail menu. That was, everyone except for me. I was infatuated with the resort and its grandeur and in love with its splendid simplicity however my true colours were emerging and my need for adventure and a cultural fix took over me like a fever and I was off! I was pulsing from head to toe with excitement, nervous energy and the thrill that comes with facing an unknown quantity. I am blonde and relatively slim so everyone at home had warned me about getting abducted and put up for ransom, or being exchanged for a few good camels. For some sick reason this just added to my adrenaline. And I have to admit, now that I am back home I am slightly peeved that I was not even offered a donkey in exchange for my blond locks, let alone a camel!
I guess when you first go to a new destination its like falling in love. Its either there or its not! I have never actually been in love with another person, sad I know, but in love with a town, city or village and the people in it…call me Casanova! And now I was falling at a rate that my brain or heart could not keep up with; I had met my soul mate. It was hectic and chaotic, unorganised and unplanned, directionless but moving at a 100km an hour and so unimaginably captivating. I was starting to wish I had worn my steel capped boots just to save my toes from the motor bikes that whip past me or the donkey that nearly ran over me with its heavy load or the cobras that are curled up in market square. I had never known excitement like this.
As always, where ever there are tourist there is trash in the form of imitation designer goods & wear, it’s unavoidable and incredibly hideous, however over the next few days I hit every back street I could find and escaped any material or commercial aspect possible. I went alone and went hard! I scoured every street corner and ally way, every authentic shop and market, spoke with the locals and bargained hard to get good deals. Winding my way in and out of the back streets, getting lost and having to navigate my way out, finding children playing soccer in a secluded courtyard behind a mosque, watching local craftsmen working at their art in a tiny shop front, I had to keep pinching myself to realise this was real. One afternoon I sat in a restaurant that was situated on the roof of a block of shabby flats that over looked the market square with panoramic views. I was craving a hefty glass of wine; I was feeling ecstatic after a day of exploring and just felt like that little fix to top things off. Much to my disgust this restaurant didn’t serve wine or coffee! I was initially quite disturbed, what on earth could top of the day other than a glass of plonk or a caffeine fix? The little old man who was running the restaurant on his own suggested a cup of traditional mint tea so I settled for this and took my place in a plastic chair at a plastic table with its floral plastic table cloth right on the corner of the balcony so I could look over the whole market area. Note to self; mint tea is extremely satisfying and relaxing without clouding up your head. I sat here for over two hours and was not bored for a single second. It was like having a David Attenborough documentary played out right in front of me with people, donkeys, motor bikes, cars, trucks, tractors and horses and carts weaving in and out of the markets all at ridiculous speeds and seemingly out of control, yet not a single accident. The city was pulsing and its local inhabitants moved around with extraordinary ease.
It was getting on to dusk and below me the locals were putting up their night markets in the square. The sun was setting right behind the mosque and it left a golden haze over the whole area which added to its the already magical appeal. I found myself sitting there with a ridiculously goofy smile on my face, having little outbursts of laughter as I watched everything unfold below me. I was in a delirious state of happiness, it was an uncontrollable, unstoppable amount of pleasure running through me and I held onto it for dear life, for the fear of it ending was haunting. My head was spinning; I was dizzy and light headed from taking such deep breaths as the incredible aromas from the night food stalls drifted up to me. The essences of fresh herbs and spices mixed with roasting vegetables and stewing meats had me salivating and feeling unreasonably hungry. I just couldn’t get enough in with each breath and I was stretching my lungs to their maximum capacity each time. I must have looked like a lunatic to the other guests in the restaurant, there was I, on my own, breathing like I was in labour with eyes glazed over like I was stoned, chuckling to myself with a replica of the Jokers smile on my face. Yes, come to think of it, I do border on lunacy!
That night I lay in my king sized bed in my luxurious boutique Moroccan room and started planning on how not to return home. For hours I pondered this and tried to prepare myself for the life of a gypsy again. Oh, the freedom! Of roaming the world as I please again, being able to wake up where ever & whenever I desire. What a life, my absolute dream life! Except I don’t think my father would see it this way. Of course by morning I had come to my senses, or to what was left of them and had decided that while I could not stand the thought of returning to my ‘three Rs’, that it was really the only option! But I was not going to leave without a bang!
That day while I was weaving my way through the markets I stumbled upon a stall that had the most spectacular artwork and craftsmanship on display. I spent close to half an hour trying to decide on which pieces I was going to spend the rest of my life with. (If only I had put this much effort into my relationships). Finally I settled on a brilliant piece of hand painted wood work and a ceramic bowl four times the size of normal dinner plate and after putting my best haggling skills (which are quite pathetic) into place, I discovered that I didn’t even have enough cash to pay for the two new loves of my life. Devastated, I confessed my problem to the men in the store and handed over what cash I had and promised to be back as soon as I found a cash machine. “Ah, no problem” said the man in terribly broken English. “I take you to machine and you pay me”. This seemed like a reasonable offer to me. I could handle a short walk to an ATM with this guy, no worries! With my newly purchased items wrapped up in a ton of newspaper and plastic bags, safely tucked under my arm I walked outside the shop to wait for the owner to lead the way. Then I was struck with confusion, the shop owner had stayed inside and another man who had been in the shop appeared and he had an even lesser understanding of English. The next thing I knew he was getting his motorbike ready, revving the engine and waiving for me to get on the back. I was momentarily frozen and couldn’t think. Alarm bells of everything my family had warned me about were going off in my head like grandfather clock at midnight! I was trying to weigh up the risks against reality and my need for a thrill. Do I risk being sold into Moroccan slavery and just close my eyes and jump on? Oh, what the hell old girl, give it a go! Four years it’s been, four bloody long years since you have felt this alive, just jump on and let’s hope for the best! So with my ceramic bowl now swinging off the handlebar and my leg hitched up and over the back of the bike I bit my lip and we were off! Ducking, weaving, dodging and breaks slamming….what more could I have wished for. This was the ultimate. For these few minutes I was seeing this world from the view of a local at their pace and it left no room for fear. I wanted to scream and shout to the world so everyone could see me, I wanted the people who had stayed at the resort to hear my squeals of excitement to see what they were missing! This will teach them to stay around a pool and drink cocktails...even if they were free!
Then the thought dawned on me that this ATM was only meant to be around the corner. So far we had skidded and swerved around several corners and I was beginning to wonder just how much I actually wanted or needed this thrill I had been lusting after. I started analysing when would be the best time to launch myself off the back of the bike so as not to land of one of the local cobras in the square we were driving through. Bugger my new purchases, I wanted to live! I was looking up at the snow capped Atlas Mountains that surrounded the city wondering if they were my newly intended secret destination. Earlier that day they were enchanting, now all of a sudden they didn’t look all that welcoming!
My insane driver slammed the breaks on again and much to my relief we were parked in front of an ATM. My imagination finally ceased its dramatic story, I would survive another day! I paid and enthusiastically thanked my escort, however now that I was safe I wanted to get back on the bike and go again, I could have done laps around the city all day! Once again I set off into the crowd with a large bundle under one arm ready to experience whatever else this city was going to throw at me. I was on such a high; I didn’t even feel the need for a glass of wine. My ecstasy was beyond realms of reality.
I would be lying if I said that travelling business class and staying in a delicious resort were not part of the reasons why this trip has had such a profound effect on me. However I have to say this; I could have paddled in a dug out canoe to Morocco, crawled across the desert on my hands and knees, stayed in a rundown hovel and it still would have been worth every bead of sweat and every ounce of pain to get there. It not only satisfied every one of my senses but had them all in such over drive that I can still smell, taste and hear it all like it was yesterday! I can only hope that one day I will I get to spend more time in the city that rescued me from the depths and despair of normality and re awakened me to the wonders of being a traveller.
