The journey not the arrival matters I believe that travel is the best education. I wanted to learn more about myself and the world so I embarked on a journey, with minimal plans, eager and ready to discover new places, new people and to be adventurous!

 

          

 

We learnt to wrap our heads with scarves turban style; caught local buses; and chatted, sang and laughed with Moroccans on the train in broken English with bits of French and Arabic slipped in. Chatting to some local boys at dinner one night we learnt that the girls in morocco are treated like princesses and given anything they want... I did start to wonder whether I should find myself a Moroccan husband! I asked what they thought of girls who wear the hijab and borka compared to those who don't and they said, really it doesn't make a big difference but they recognise that those who cover themselves demonstrate a respect for the culture (also many boyfriends and husbands like their women to cover up so other boys don't get to see how beautiful they are.) It's also customary for the girls go shopping with the future mother in law to buy lingerie for the wedding night!

 

A Moroccan hammam is a truly amazing cultural experience ... It is a communal bathhouse that locals habitually visit at least weekly to clean themselves and socialise. We bought an exfoliating glove from a local store then cautiously, nervously entered a fairly inconspicuous archway with pretty tiles on the walls inside. Ready to be vulnerable and embrace the unexpected, we stripped down to undies (no bra) and boldly waited while the Muslim ladies did the same. They looked so calm and confident with their bodies that I started feeling like there was nothing to be ashamed of and accepted the notion of being naked in this strange place. We were led through a series of increasingly warmer rooms, finishing in one that felt somewhat like a big not-too-hot sauna. The room was about 5x8m and covered in white tiles with a few blue ones on the roof. There was water all over floor, and 2 other completely naked women were sitting casually on mats along one side of the room washing themselves and rinsing with water from buckets. The ladies instructed us to sit on the floor (unhygienic?? ... Hope not!) ... tits out, dignity being challenged, my lady started rubbing 'black soap' all over me. It's actually dark brown, slightly translucent, gooey, and left a slippery and oily residue all over me. I was surprised at myself as to how comfortable I was having someone lather my body with goo, my hand often bumping into her boob and her obviously touching mine! There were no other tourists, the local ladies were just minding their own business, and I was feeling extremely cultural and adventurous! And relaxed! The lady rinsed off the soap with water from multiple buckets of warm and hot water, put my exfoliating glove on her hand and started scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing my arm. It was almost painful initially but soon became therapeutic. She scrubbed to remove 5 layers of skin and I watched all of the grime and dirt that I'd been lugging around after months of travelling rolling into little grey clumps!! After my arms, she moved onto my neck and legs. Communicating without any English and lots of gentle nudges and hand gestures, I was encouraged to turn onto my stomach... So now I was lying naked on a white tiled watery floor with my undies pulled down a bit while the lady was scrubbing my bum. A special moment. Not as special as the next moment when I sat up again and she scrubbed my face ... Without rinsing the glove in between!! Then she shampooed my hair twice, massaged my back and legs, stood me up, pulled my undies half way down my legs, (while Tina distracted herself looking in the other direction and smirking) and poured more buckets of water all over me!!! And that was seriously one of the coolest raw cultural experiences I've had yet!!! My skin felt absolutely incredible afterwards, and I felt the cleanest I've ever been in my life!!! It was so great also doing it with the other Muslim women and seeing first hand the way they obviously take great pride in cleaning, their bodies, and devoting time to themselves in the hammams. 

 

At first I found Marrakech a bit overwhelming, busy and full of false guides and creepy men trying to lure you into their shops ... or their beds!! But the city also had a very cool stereotypical 'Moroccan' feel - lots of red, orange and ochre buildings along palm tree lined streets.  The main square was buzzing with people, horses, donkeys, motorbikes and cars honking and pushing past you, and a constant bothersome "Hello white lady, will you marry me", "nice eyes", especially Tina with her alternative side shave, we heard "nice hair lady" every few steps!! The souks are a type of marketplace in a massive hall with hundreds of alleys of Moroccan specialty shops... leather as far as the eye could see, teapots galore, (magic) carpets, and every now and again a kaleidoscope of colours at a fresh food and spices stall. I was quite entranced by all the colours of the bags, scarves and shoes, it's just a pity that with this setting, again comes a constant flow of "hello white lady, I do you a good price lady, look inside lady". I um'd and ah'd over which teapot I wanted ... getting a bit anxious with the number of choices - the tall top, with legs or without, for one or 2 cups, the plumper or slimmer shape, which pattern on the silver etc etc. and I was not comfortable parting with the money until I was convinced I was getting a good deal. Needless to say, the teapot was not bought on this occasion!!  

 

          

 

I went for jog one morning and saw a refreshing, slightly less intense side of Marrakech - the hustle and bustle in the smaller market areas outside of the main square and souks. It wasn't too busy, just a steady flow of people buying their morning fresh produce, walking with purpose and riding to work on motorbikes. My senses were stimulated - a myriad of colours stole my attention jogging past the fruit and veggie stalls, Moroccan spices and fresh bread scents wafted through the narrow streets, and I was on high listening alert for the bikes and donkeys that just popped out of nowhere above the background noises of bartering and eager business men inviting me to boost their sales for the day. I got a bit distracted by leather bags at one point and made a sneaky purchase, after which I got lost in the maze of alleys but enjoyed every minute of it, wondering what exciting shop front or food stall I might stumble across around the next corner. 

 

Winding through the Atlas Mountains at 2260m provided great views - vast expanses of no vegetation, or patches of dry green shrubbery, colours shifting from off white to dusty mustard rock, to red and brown stark cliff faces, with the occasional camouflaged Berber villages etched in the mountain side. First stop was ancient Kasbah Ait Benhaddou, bridging the mountains with the Sahara, where many Hollywood movies such as Gladiator, Prince of Persia and Lawrence of Arabia were filmed! The kasbah (ancient islamic village of large castle looking houses with 4 parapets) here was built in 13th century. This place used to be an important stop for travellers looking for salt and they used to have to walk 3km by camel to get fresh water up until about 4 years ago. The houses are made with mud and clay and need to be re-done every 2 years due to rain.

 

          

 

The mighty Todra gorge presented dramatic cliff sides and a herd of black and white goats hovering by the river and then back to more great road trip scenery - typical African earthy coloured houses with flat (or no) rooves, more barren rocks and shrubs with rugged mountains in the distance. I giggled away watching a few episodes of 'rules of engagement' in between reading and napping. Erg Chebbi are the giant sand dunes that surround the Berber town of Merzouga. We took the traditional method of transport - camel - to the Berber camp in the middle of the silky terracotta desert in time to watch the golden sun dip below the dunes against the bright blue sky. So peaceful and beautiful! The camel ride was quite an experience - very uncomfortable actually, especially since my camel - who I named Walter- was sliding and bumping me all over the place and I had 2 bolts on the side of the saddle digging into my thighs! I really had to hold on tight while bouncing downhill, and definitely got a great core and triceps workout!! Tina and I swapped camels after the sunset so she could take some pics of me from in front and she almost killed me for giving her Walter - validating my horrific experience with bloody Walter! Haha 

 

          

 

At the campsite, there were no lights, no electricity, a square of black tents with a mattress, sheet and blanket each, lots of mattresses for chilling on the sand, and we sat around chatting, laughing and watching the stars come out. It was an incredible sanctuary. The stars were so bright and it was such a glorious and fulfilling feeling just staring at them all! We had a yummy chicken tajine for dinner before sitting around a campfire listening to the 3 Berber guys with massive traditional turbans play the drums, some tambourine-type bells and sing in Arabic. This was really special. I felt completely satisfied staring directly into the fire or up at the stars and pulsing to the beat of the drums. After an early rise at 530am we rode the camels back, stopping to watch the sun rise at about 7am. It was incredible - a really magnificent moment watching a glistening yellow-orange peeking above the sandy horizon and then engulfing the entire Sahara with the golden light of day. 

 

            

 

The group of about 15 of us bonded over this magical experience and by the end of the trip you couldn't shut us up on the bus. We were so lucky to have a fantastic mix of interesting and nice people from all over the world, and throughout the 12 hours of travel on the last day, conversation shifted from sexism, to travel destinations, to re-telling movie plots, to the Bosnian War.

 

The city of Fes was founded in the 9th century and the Old Medina is a UNESCO World Heritage site - the world’s largest living medieval Islamic city. Beige and pastel yellow buildings had a wash of charcoal at the top giving an overall rundown look. The city was enclosed with a medieval crenelated city wall, which I loved, and I felt like I had just stepped into Game of Thrones, entering through the stone wall archway.

 

I really liked the mix of crazy market sellers interspersed with a few more relaxed shop keepers just passing the time on a little stool or at hard at work shaping a copper tray or threading cotton. The creepy and sleezy false guides that try and ask you where you want to go and lead you to the tourist spots taint the experience a bit but I just had to block them out, whilst being wary of my bag and not getting trapped into a dead end in the crazy maze of alleys within the medina. Within the more populated areas of the Medina, we immersed ourselves in Islamic architecture, passing gorgeous large wooden doors with elaborately carved or bronze and copper patterns, and mosaic doorways and walls of ceramic tiles with floral and geometric designs in every shade of blue, green, yellow or multicoloured patterns. The outside of some mosques were inscribed with beautiful Arabic calligraphy, and I indulged in the raw sight of the artisans making jewellery, metal goods and traditional clothing throughout the Medina. Every alley offered something new - from delicious looking cakes to pashmina scarves, to kids plastic toys!

 

          

 

In the middle of the medina labyrinth we found (god knows how?!) the famous Chouara Tannery - the biggest in Africa, which has been washing, treating, smoothing, and colouring animal skins into soft leather goods for over a thousand years.  Leather is Morroco's biggest export - the leather can take up to 2 months to go through the tannery and it is a family business that is passed down from generation to generation (150 families are employed in this tannery). The awful smell of pigeon poo (which contains ammonia to make the leather softer) hovered in the air as I marvelled at the colorful leather-dying pits and the men pulling large strips of skin from the tubs. The colours used to dye the leather are all natural vegetable dyes - poppy flower (red), indigo (blue), henna (orange), cedar wood (brown), mint (green), and saffron (yellow). 

This is probably one of my favourite cities I've come across because it has the perfect mix of things I love - mountains (perfect for hiking and just generally feeling in touch with nature) and a relaxed beachy feel since all the buildings are painted blue (and white).  I loved being immersed in blue - it felt cool and peaceful, and it made the city so pretty. Chefchaouen was painted blue by the Jewish refugees in 1930s to distinguish themselves from the red and green colours of Islamic Morocco. It's a popular spot for smoking hash so it's also quite relaxed but still has the buzz of the marketplace throughout the alleys of the medina. Our hostel was super cute - wooden doors, pretty tiles, fresh and clean smell, and a gorgeous rooftop terrace boasting a luxurious blue and yellow beachside villa essence. We watched movies in the little rooftop tv room, hiked to some nearby villages, and watched the sun set at the Spanish mosque which gave gorgeous views of the whole city - sprawling mountains and a slice of blue and white civilisation etched into one side of a mountain. 

 

              

 

The weather continued to treat us incredibly well (it was meant to be rainy season - but I felt no rain in aaaaafrica) for a day trip to Talassemtane National Park - perfect temperature, bright sun and blue skies. The God Bridge was a naturally formed beautiful big arched rock formation between 2 of the domineering mountain ranges of the park. I was so pleasantly surprised with how green and luscious the area was - for Africa!! We took a lovely path along a running stream through tree plantations and foresty bits, flanked by massive vertical burnt orange cliff faces. Small waterfalls were dotted along the way and the sound of running water and barely any other tourists made it a really peaceful experience, getting in touch with nature again after relentless Marrakech and Fes. The end point was a spectacular waterfall with interesting eroded shards of rock and moss that came away from the cliff face close to the bottom, creating a unique backdrop for the cascading water. Unfortunately it was quite cold in this little spot, hidden away from the sun so I couldn't bring myself to swim in the invitingly crystal clear and water. 

 

          

 

 The day began by waiting for a running-late bus in the middle of the road, then being shooed on with live chickens. I got a bit car sick after half an hour or so in response to maniac driving, and my view outside was obstructed by a heap of white stuff dribbled down my window. The bus was old, brown and uncomfortable. We seemed to stop at least every half hour, sometimes at a legitimate station to pick up more passengers, but mostly on the side of a dusty, barren road for a transfer of boxes and bags into a dodgy little pick up truck. Tina and I were sure our bags had already been whipped off the bus and sold in exchange for some chickens or drugs at one of the countless stops! Every time we collected more passengers, we'd get an influx of pestering, incessant snack sellers squeezing their way past other passengers trying to find a seat. It was manic. The most annoying ones would drop a block of chocolate into your lap and then walk away so when they came back to collect the chocolate they would insist you pay them! One disgusting guy stroked my leg with the chocolate in his hand to encourage me to buy it. He was bloody lucky I didn't kick him in the nuts for fear that I might get a dose straight back, or end up in Moroccan prison for harassment. Intermittently we seemed to get stopped by policeman who would check the luggage under the bus and eventually let us pass... Until we came across the undercover cop who actually boarded the bus and spent a good 15 minutes making his way down the aisle and patting down anyone looking remotely suspect. We nervously watched him pat down the guy a few seats in front of us - an extremely thorough and invasive check. We sat there fairly silent and tense, both wondering what our fate might be - was he a decent cop just looking for real criminal activity or a dodgy one looking for an excuse to touch 2 innocent white girls?! He slowly lingered past us, gave a brief look, almost passed, but then backtracked (Tina - sitting in the aisle seat flipped out) and said "bonjour". Tina cooly replied with "bonjour", they exchanged a few more words - in French - which I barely remember coz I was too stressed for her and then he smiled politely and moved further down the bus! Pheeewwww!!! This gave us faith in the Moroccan police! While we were busy normalising our adrenaline levels, 4 or 5 guys were escorted off the bus and waited while the policeman searched their bags underneath. 2 guys were handcuffed to each other and then one was released and got back on the bus, while the other was taken away with the policeman!! The rest of the group also were freed to get back on the bus. Overall a slightly stressful but exciting and interesting experience!! There was no toilet on the bus and no loo stops along the way.  I needed to pee a couple of hours into the trip and after developing a headache and craving water, I couldn't bring myself to even take a sip in case my bladder burst! It didn't stop after the bus ride - as we got into the taxi, another guy helped us put our luggage into the boot - then demanded 10 dirham for the effort. We drove in the taxi for about 20 mins until the driver got very angry and frustrated - resulting in heated English-French discussions and no comprehension on either side, he looked at the map a hundred times, yelled the same thing over and over in French while I repeated "je ne comprend pas" and "je ne parle pas francais" until we suddenly found ourselves back at the bus station, sunset nearing. Tina on the edge of tears and me just fed up, hungry, thirsty and still busting to pee, we dragged ourselves around the corner from the taxi rank to get away from all the horrid hassling scavengers. Here, we regained faith in humanity when a lovely (and extremely good looking) guy asked if we were ok and what we needed, just out of the goodness of his heart and not in exchange for money or sex!! We could tell he had somewhere to be, but he patiently waited with us to hail a taxi, explain exactly where the hotel was and helped us put the suitcases into the boot. Tina almost cried with joy at the kind gesture we were finally blessed with. As fate would have it, the second taxi driver also couldn't find the hotel, but got us close enough that we knew where we were, then he didn't have any change for the fare and after asking in all the shops up and down the street could only give us change for a fare double what it should have been!!!! Unfortunately this was a pretty shitty ending to our Morroco trip, and I felt well and truly ready to get out of the relentless country. But of course there were also some wonderful moments along the way, and it was so awesome to be sharing them all with Tina!!