Morocco at first mention seems to draw intrigue no matter what the crowd. The land of mysticism, though an African country, is not as long and difficult to get to as many think. Its exponentially more popular neighbor, Spain, makes a great gateway to exploring this African nation fueled by Arabic, French and Spanish cultures. The melting pot doesn’t stop there: The food is also a trifecta of culinary ménage, resulting in some of the best plates I’ve ever tried—all for a fraction of the cost of any First World country.
My maiden voyage to Morocco, like most visitors’, started in Spain—the jet-set, Andalucían village of Marbella. Marbella, widely known for its beach parties and extravagant villas, is only a half-hour drive from the Malaga Airport—the best starting point for exploring Morocco north to south.
Crossing the Strait of Gibraltar brought me back in time—a time of when modern conveniences aren’t monopolized by smartphones and the latest technologies. It’s this digital respite that I crave… in doses.
Tangier, the main passenger port of Morocco, is a spice that takes a little getting used to, but one I grew to love. When it first hits the tongue it packs a loud, in-your-face flavor, which soon becomes palatable and quite addicting. The Kasbah is the place to stay in Tangier. A livable labyrinth so to speak, it invites you to get lost (which you will, but happily). Pay one of the children playing kickball or tag within the Kasbah walls a few Dirhams ($.50) and they’ll gladly walk you home. Dar Nour, a guesthouse I can’t recommend highly enough, has a roof deck surrounded by minarets where hearing the calls to prayer is life changing. The fresh orange juice and mint tea doesn’t hurt either. Grab a chapeau, a lounge chair and take in the friendly chaos of the rug shops, spice markets and daily Kasbah life in full motion below.
By Moroccan train I arrived in Casablanca. Train travel is the best method of transport, with first-class tickets costing about $20 one-way. Casablanca, while very popular, didn’t pack the flavor I had hoped. Made popular a destination by a movie of the same name, I found this city rather bland and commercial. Casablanca is a great stopover for a day, as it’s the halfway mark between Tangier and Marrakech. The Casablanca site to see is the Hassan II mosque. Being the largest mosque in Morocco and seventh largest in the world, its setting on the Corniche at sunset is surreal.
Next up: Marrakech. A three-hour train journey from Casablanca, Marrakech is the jewel of Morocco. Marrakech is a full-flavored, widely-loved spice that no one can resist. A little bit sweet and a little bit savory, Marrakech is a city that you can mold and make yours. Want crazy? Stay in the medina. Want relaxed? Stay in the Palmaraie. I chose to stay at Dar Sabra in the Palmeraie for its palm-lined pools, museum-worthy art and dining to die for.
Marrakech is the best option for taking a hammam, which every Moroccan itinerary should include. It is essentially a full-body exfoliation with black soap made from olives, taking place in a steam room. The best option: Les Bains de Marrakech, located at the edge of the medina.
Dining in Marrakech is a reason to go in and of itself. My favorite restaurant, Azar, included a full-course meal of typical French-Lebanese-Moroccan fusion, accompanied by a traditional belly dance. Its location in the Hivernage district of Marrakech is also the nightlife epicenter, so while in Rome… err—Marrakech…
Lastly, a two-hour bus ride from Marrakech swept me to the seaside oasis of Essaouira. My first thought: Am I in Morocco or Greece? The white-washed, blue-trimmed houses dotting the Kasbah play trickery with the eye. I stayed at a typical Moroccan riad in Essaouira, where the glass roof opened to the skies. Birds fly in and chirp the day away, while incense and tea permeate the parlors. The roof deck of Villa de l’O is the next best thing to actually being on the beach. Essaouira was definitely the dessert finish of the desert.
All good things come to an end, but I’ll be back here again. From the opportunities to polish my French skills to the scenery like none other, I’d be a fool not to get lost in a Kasbah or two again in this mysterious land we call Morocco.
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(Images: Daniel Gunia)
