Farewell to Morocco

Note to reader: This post is long. And rather dry. My deepest apologies…it’s all my exhaustion level could muster for the moment. Hopefully there are more readable anecdotes to come.

Morocco.

Where to even find the words?

Morocco is a place all at once desolate and beautiful.

And I had quite the adventure in this desolately beautiful place.

One thing I never fully processed before I began my excursion was that standing in between Casablanca (where we ported) and the Sahara Desert (where the camels were waiting) is a little thing we like to call the Atlas Mountains.

The Atlas Mountains are home to the second highest peak on the continent of Africa.

And we had to drive over them. In a very large tour bus (that would be because two hundred of my best Semester at Sea friends decided they also wanted to ride camels in the Sahara).

This lovely drive over the Atlas Mountains takes over seven hours. I do hope you find this funny because one really has to laugh about such things.

But first things first.

We departed Casablanca on Thursday morning for Marrakech (a wonderful city, and consequently the most frequented destination for tourists). After a three-hour drive, we had lunch at this fantastic little place (the food in Morocco is AMAZING) and shopped around the marketplace.

While we were exploring the tiny streets lined with stalls, out of nowhere comes this torrential downpour. We ran for cover…but by the time everyone got back to the bus, we were hair-dripping, shirt-plastered-to-your-skin wet (yes, Mom, I left that lovely rain jacket on the ship. Never again, I promise you). We got to our hotel and had just enough time to wring our clothes dry before departing for our dinner and “fantasia show” (it sounds a lot funnier with a Moroccan accent). The show was about as nauseating a pre-packaged tourist trap as you could find. But I had a grand time in spite of it all because that’s what happens when you laugh at life and make the best of things.

Then early, oh-so-early the next morning, we set off on the long drive to Zagora.

About two hours in, I decided this whole semester wasn’t actually a study abroad experience, but rather a very expensive test to see who could withstand the most cruel and intense forms of motion sickness. The road was narrow and extremely curvy, but our very large tour bus took blind turn after blind turn fearlessly (Marie, my lovely friend, I was thinking of you often. You would have died..haha).

The coolest thing is that we got to drive through some of the most unique landscapes Morocco has to offer (sights that very few tourists get to see). We drove through rugged mountains that could rival any range in the U.S. for their beauty, lush valley floors where herds of goats were grazing, and remote Berber villages.

Three potty stops and seven hours later, we finally arrived in the middle-of-nowhere Zagora, and mounted our camels (hilarity ensued) and rode to our Bedouin camp for the night. While I’m sure this camp was edited for the comfort of our group, it was still not for the faint of heart. The tents smelled like camel urine, and I do believe I slept under the rankiest blanket of my entire life…but it was a once in a lifetime experience that I will never forget. When you’re in uninhabited desert land, the sunset is almost as beautiful as the Milky Way is when it’s finished. The nomads sang while a woman cooked fresh flat bread over the fire.

A very cold night later, we were headed back on our camels to the bus (I had the scariest camel behind me that Bryan named Chewbaka for the disturbing noise it made throughout our trek. I think it was an angsty adolescent). We then repeated the drive, stopping this time in the heart of the Moroccan film industry (where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed).

Back in Marrakech for the night, we were on our own for dinner (which is harder than you might think as a woman during Ramadan) and ended up at the most bizarre ex-pat restaurant/lounge called “The Yellow Sub”. Yes, it was entirely dedicated to the Beatles. Yes, there were giant sized murals on the walls. And yes, “Let It Be” was playing. Pretty hilarious.

The next morning we did some last minute running around in the heart of the marketplace before heading back to Casablanca.

Today we explored around Casablanca (which is as dirty and underdeveloped as it is famous), walked through the Medina, and had one last traditional Morocco mint tea (possibly the best beverage I have ever consumed. I’m addicted).

Because such a significant portion of my stay in Morocco was spent in its most rural parts, I can’t say I got a long enough taste of the city. But then this trip is full of trade-offs…for every one amazing thing you see, you’re missing another, which means that you hold tightly to your own experiences and say “until next time” for the rest.

Morocco is a place of such enormous intrigue for me. Should I ever get the chance, I will be returning.

Farewell, Morocco, as lovely and complicated as you are!

Love. Anna