Moroccan Exploration

My lips were cracked, my nose peeling. My legs felt stiff and sore. I kept asking myself, How did I end up with the slowest, fattest camel in the entire Sahara desert?

After only 2 days with the kind Berbers who had led us to and from their desert home, I was ready to get off my bug-eyed steed and walk alongside the line of tourist-mounted camels.

I got my wish a few hours later when we circled back to the meeting point, and as I dismounted the fat camel we both groaned with relief. Shortly after our Real Desert Experience was over, we were herded into a mini-bus and carted off to Marrakech.

Desperate for a shower, my friends and I made our way to a small riad where we had made a reservation, only to find that they had overbooked. Splitting up, we wandered down the winding roads of the Marrakech medina looking for a room.

It was an exceptionally busy Friday night, with spring festivities kicking off in the nearby market, the Djema El-Fna. The streets were bustling with tourists, vendors selling food, cloth, spices and trinkets, with children on motorcycles and dogs chasing after them all.

We returned to the riad having exhausted all options within our budget, and demanded they refund us our deposit or help us find a solution.

A nervous clerk called his boss, who announced he was coming straight to the riad to speak with us personally. Enter an unexpectedly genial man with broad shoulders and a smile on his face. He had found a solution for us!

In exchange for keeping our deposits, the owner of the riad offered the four of us to stay at his home. We were intrigued and wary, but mostly just exhausted. We agreed. A short walk down the street revealed a tall archway that led into a private green and blue tiled courtyard. “Welcome to my home!” he announced proudly.

We were crammed into a small salon with a massive HDTV, but we didn’t mind the tight quarters. We were too happy to be off our feet, and into this singular Moroccan haven.

The house was beautiful and welcoming, with its bright pink benches, climbing vines and fountains. The eldest daughter, one of many children in the house, was quiet and smiling, and served us the most perfect traditional mint tea with sugar.

One by one, we washed up and collapsed onto our velvety cushions. We left quietly in the early morning feeling refreshed, humbly thanking our hosts. I looked over my shoulder as we walked away, and reflected on the importance and kindness of strangers.