Northern Morocco is not at all what I expected it to be. You can chalk it up to media influence or just plain ignorance, but I always imagined the region of North Africa as this big, sprawling desert chock-full of bedouin tribes and mountainous sand dunes. Of course, I knew we would come across several large cities and a variety of landscapes – it’s a modern country and a popular tourist destination, so that’s a given. And have you even seen how huge Morocco is?!
But when you imagine a country that you’ve never been to, you tend to romanticize it. When you think of Italy, you think of sunny plazas and red roofs and flowers. When you think of England, you think of Big Ben and rainy days and Her Majesty the Queen. When you think of Tanzania, you think of safaris and endless savannah and the towering Mount Kilimanjaro. So when I thought of Morocco, I thought of camels and desert and dusty buildings.
Well… there were camels?
And even though there were many surprises, at least they were pleasant surprises – green farmland and vibrant colors and the sweet tangy scent of oranges everywhere you went. Refreshing breezes and beautiful coastal cities. Ancient kasbahs and souk-lined medinas blending into modern buildings and clean fountains. It was beautiful.
I spent 11 full days exploring Morocco’s northern cities with an organized group, and it was an absolutely incredible experience. Here are some of my favorite memories.
Arriving in Casablanca a day before the group tour began was a bit of a risky move for me, as I knew I’d be on my own almost all day and my anxiety has given me some not-so-great experiences with solo travel. But it was the best option in terms of price, so I went along with it, and I’m happy I did. From what I’ve read, people either really love or really hate Casablanca, and there’s not really anyone in-between. Thankfully, I fall into the former category, in part thanks to my visit to the Hassan II Mosque.
Everything in this massive room from the marble floors to the retractable ceiling was created using local materials – all except for the chandeliers. Impressive!
On my free day in Casablanca, I decided I was going to visit this mosque, and nothing could change my mind. My hotel was pretty far away, so the plan was to hail a taxi… but, of course, things never go according to plan. So after standing around for about a half-hour, too timid to flag down a cab and negotiate a price, I made a decision: I’ll just suck it up and walk.
I nodded to myself and pulled out the tiny paper map I’d snagged from the hotel, found a path, and set off toward the coast. If I just stayed along the coastline, I’d come across the mosque eventually.
40 minutes later, dripping sweat and feet aching, the green and white facade finally entered my sight and all breath flew from my lungs. What a stunning building!
Another plus: the arches provided some cool shade to rest in. Ah, sweet relief.
Look closely and you can see a man crouching in this photo – it really puts the size into perspective!
Once I could feel my toes again, I joined the walking tour and took tons of pictures, never once losing my smile. My feet were throbbing by the time I left, but this time I managed to snag a taxi. Little did I know that my decision to wear leather sandals that day would haunt me for the rest of the trip.
One of the things I was most nervous about for my solo time in Casablanca was eating alone. Lunch wouldn’t be an issue because I always gravitate to street food and cafes for a light meal, but I wanted to try something nice for dinner, so a restaurant seemed to be my best option. It felt strange because in America there’s a bit of a stigma with eating alone in public, but there was a little restaurant in Casablanca called Le Riad that had good reviews and I wanted to try it out.
My first night in Casablanca, less jetlagged after a long nap and itching to see the city, I set off to find the restaurant. Google Maps told me it was very close to my hotel (only 1 minute away!), so I memorized the directions and practically skipped out the door. And then a took a wrong turn and, well. It was all over after that. I spent that evening wandering the streets and sipping coffee at little cafes before heading back to eat dinner at my hotel.
The next day I wound up skipping lunch on my walk to the Hassan II Mosque, so I was starving by the time I got back to my hotel. It was only 4:00 p.m., but I had two hours to kill before our first group meeting and this time I knew exactly where Le Riad was, so I waited until 5:00 and set off to try the restaurant one more time.
But of course when I stepped inside, no one was there. I inched in further, cautiously, poking around and listening for any signs of people. And then – there it is! Voices! Upstairs! I made my way up the staircase toward the noises and, suddenly, I was face-to-face with three Moroccan women. They seemed slightly surprised that I was standing there, and a quick glance around the empty restaurant told me that they probably weren’t open yet and I’d just been very intrusive. Oops.
Trying to save face, I asked what time the restaurant opened. One of the women looked at me and said “For you?”, and when I nodded she smiled and said “You are welcome.”
Struck by the kind gesture, I thanked her enthusiastically and walked to a cushy-looking table in the corner of the room, surrounded by pillows and stained glass windows.
Soon, she returned with a menu entirely in French and, though my French is rusty, I recognized a few words and picked out a nice, simple salad. It arrived quickly and was topped with a delicious honey-mustard dressing. Funnily enough, it wound up being one of the best meals of the trip!
By the time I finished up, it was getting pretty close to time for the introductory meeting with my group, so I paid and thanked them again, giving them a large tip, and all but ran back to my hotel to gather my paperwork.
And it’s just my luck that one of the first things our tour leader says is “Don’t eat a salad.” Apparently it’s been known to upset tourists’ stomaches since the tap water in Morocco is extremely mineral-heavy.
Oh.
Uh…
Welp.
Above: A lovely old door in the Kasbah of the Udayas in Rabat
Far left: A beautiful door near an artist’s shop in Chefchaouen’s famous blue medina
Near left: An intricate iron door located at the top of a staircase in the Kasbah in Chefchaouen
Though all of Moroccan architecture is stunning, the doors and arches are, in itself, something to be admired. Decorated with moorish designs and intricate mosaics, each door is unique and many have interesting backstories.
The design you’ll see most often is a slightly pointed horseshoe arch, which tops countless doors and archways all across North Africa. It’s truly a staple in Moroccan architecture, and it was during out tour of Fes with a local guide that a question popped in my head.
I got the chance to ask when we made a photo-op stop at the famous golden gates of the Palais Royale, or the Dar el-Makhzen (pictured right).
“Is there a reason the door shaped that way?”
With a smile, the guide responded, “It looks like a tent, does it not? The tent is a symbol of life and home and protection.”
Hundreds of people have filled picture books with these lovely entryways. And it’s not hard to see why, with colors and detailing that make even the most indifferent passer-bys freeze and do a double-take.
Maybe I should make one too?
It was our first morning in Moulay Idriss that we took a bus to the well-preserved Roman ruins of Volubilis, a UNESCO World Heritage site and capital of the ancient kingdom of Mauretania.
The morning was peaceful; nothing stirred. The sun was barely high enough to clear the mountains, casting the surrounding farmland in a soft orange glow. If we squinted, we could just see Moulay Idriss through the mist, nestled comfortably along the cliffs. The only sounds we could hear were the far-off chirping of birds and the dirt crunching beneath our feet. We had the whole place to ourselves, standing in the middle of an ancient Roman city, surrounded by nature.
Strolling through the ruins with a guide, we witnessed the world around us awaken from its slumber.
The sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, drenching everything in a warm light. Peals of laughter rose from our group as the tour guide cracked another joke. The idle chatter of schoolchildren carried on the wind as they walked up from the visitor center.
I looked down at mosaics lining the floor and spotted flowers sprouting between the cracks in the stone.
And when our tour was over, I took one last look at the ancient city, people lining the stone streets and wandering through the ruined buildings, bursting with life just as it did many thousands of years ago, and I wondered if the Ancient Romans would recognize Volubilis today.
Yeah.
It doesn’t seem to have changed that much.
Everything you read about Fes will warn you of the leather tannieries foul stench, but nothing really prepares you for the wave of noxious gas that washes over you every time the wind blows your way.
The Chouara Tannery was our last stop on our tour of the city’s massive medina, and it was the part that everyone in our group had been simultaneously anticipating and dreading. As we stepped through the doors of the building, a man handed each of us a spring of mint and said with a wry smile, “Moroccan gas mask.”
Well, if that wasn’t foreshadowing.
So we’re herded into the shop and given a tour by the owner, who told us all about the process of tanning leather, and that’s when we get our first whiff of the dye pits just outside. But in that moment it wasn’t too bad; just stinky enough to hold the mint a little closer to your nose.
He sets us free to explore and most of us head for the balcony behind us, which offers a spectacular view of people working in the dye pits – one of the most famous views in Fes. I took a step forward, expecting the worst smell of my life, and… nothing. It was no worse from before.
What were people talking about? This wasn’t bad at all!
And then the wind picked up. And… my God. It was like standing in a giant field of manure, with piles six feet high and flies circling our heads. I will never forget the smell; it’s been burned into my nostrils forever. Apparently part of the reason the tannery smells so awful – aside from the fact that tanning leather is a very stinky process – is because they allow bird poo to mix in with the dye pits. So that’s something.
A few people picked off the leaves from their mint, rolled them up, and proceeded to shove it up their noses.
I mean, I don’t blame them.
This. This street right here. This is the entire reason I wanted to visit Morocco.
The small mountain city of Chefchaouen (also known as “Chaouen” or “The Blue Pearl of Morocco”) has a medina that’s almost entirely painted blue. So when I saw a picture of this street several years ago on Pinterest, I promised myself I’d go there someday soon and saved it to one of my boards. Chefchaouen filled my dreams for almost two years, until I finally booked a flight to Morocco and found a group tour that included this beautiful city.
But when the entire medina is filled with winding blue paths and vibrant colors, how in the world was I supposed to find this specific street?
It was our first day in Chaouen and we had the evening free to do whatever we wanted, so my roommate and I almost instantly decided we wanted to explore the medina more. I grabbed my camera and we set off.
The day was coming to a close and everything was calming down, so the once-bustling streets of the medina were nearly empty. We wandered the medina, exploring areas that we’d missed on our walking tour, running up and down way too many steps. We wandered into residential areas. We dove in and out of tiny alleys. We let ourselves get lost and just kept on walking. We ran around until we knew every road, every staircase, every nook and cranny.
And still, we hadn’t found this street.
Time was against us at this point. The sun was setting, the temperature was dropping, and soon the restaurants would be closing and we’d miss out on dinner. So, being practical, we decided that we’d make our way out of the medina and back into the square for dinner. We’d have some free time tomorrow anyway, so we could come back and try again then.
So, sweaty and hungry, we got directions from a local and set off down a new road. And not even two minutes later, we burst into laughter as this street – the street we had spent nearly three hours looking for – came into view.
And it was absolutely worth it.
Alright, something I’ve gotta talk about is all of the stray animals wandering around everywhere we went. As an animal lover, it was a real struggle to avoid cooing over them every second of the day, and my heart broke on multiple occasions. (I even started crying over a stray puppy at a restaurant we stopped at – I swear I would’ve taken him home if I could!)
There were definitely more cats than dogs, but seeing all of the strays – some in good shape, some clearly neglected – and having to ignore them was one of the most difficult things I have ever dealt with while traveling. So I took pictures and then kept moving.
Tangier is a beautiful coastal city with one of the largest harbors in all of North Africa. It is often considered the gateway to Africa, as it also forms the western entrance to the Strait of Gibraltar, where the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean meet.
There are several notable landmarks in and around Tangier that are worth visiting, but the two that I found most interesting were:
1) The actual Strait of Gibraltar (pictured above and right), and
2) The Caves of Hercules (pictured left)
One of the coolest things was standing at the Strait and being able to connect to cell phone towers in Spain!
And of course, no day is complete without a sugary snack and a piping hot glass of mint tea! Or maybe opt for some Nous Nous if you need a delicious pick-me-up.
Adventure on, my friends!
Have you ever been to Morocco? Was it anything like what you expected? What are some of your favorite memories? Leave a comment down below and let me know!
If you liked this post, pin it for later!
