Morocco has been on my list of destinations to visit for atleast a year. The beauty, the history, the architecture, colors, nature, and fashion made me swoon!  There had been an influx in people visiting Morocco over the last 2 years, and that just fueled my fire. I had to go!

Now while Morocco is a relatively inexpensive country to visit using the U.S. Dollar or Euro, flights can be quite pricey coming from the U.S. But, depending on your location and airline carrier in Europe, you can find relatively inexpensive flights to Morocco. I played with a few options to get to Morocco without breaking the bank. Any international destination out of New Orleans is always a battle with high airfare costs and days of layovers. I went to Morocco in September 2019, and checking out flights 2 months before departure, MSY to RAK roundtrip was a little over $1,100 with 2 stops and over 18 hours of travel time each way. I opted to break my travel up and save costs.

I flew from MSY to EWR on United Airlines for $56 OW

JFK to CDG on Norwegian Airlines for $328 RT

BVA to RAK on Ryanair $141 RT

JFK to MSY on American Airlines $63 OW

With this excessive travel plan, I definitely saved a few hundred dollars and got to spend time in each city without wasting valuable time sitting in airports on a layover.

Catch up on my time in Paris, here.

Now, this journey to an in Morocco taught me valuable lessons!

I’d always thought that having a personal tour guide was expensive and a bit off putting, because I definitely didn’t want someone with me for 18+ hours a day.

Every new destination I visited, I figured had to be THE It place!, or a locale that I enjoyed. It’s okay not to love every place you visit. We have that mentality with people, so why not the same logic when visiting different corners of the earth? As long as we respect and observe the cultures and customs; we don’t have to romanticize every destination.

 It wasn’t until I stepped foot in the medinas of Marrakesh that I rethought that narrative. I arrived in Marrakesh around 2 am, and waited for my arranged transport through my riad. I decided to get diahms in case I needed to pay for my transport, tip the driver, as well as some spending money for the market for later in the day. There are two ATMs in the Marrkakesh airport located at the international arrivals exit. I tried both machines, and they denied my debit card. I didn’t receive a fraud alert text message from my bank, and I didn’t receive a proper error message from the ATM. So, I figured it was a fluke and I’ll try my luck once I made it to the city later in the day. Once my arranged driver found me, dropped me off at the riad and I checked in, it was closer to 4am. I quickly unwound and fell asleep in the two full size beds merged together to form one king size bed. I awoke at noon, got ready, and headed out the door of the riad by 1 pm in search of an ATM. My phone’s data wasn’t connecting to the local network, so I made use of the riad’s wifi, downloaded the local Google map and found the closest ATM to be a 20 minute walk away. I asked the hotel’s front desk if this was the nearest ATM, but the front desk attendant drew me a map and told me to follow the directions, and I should see a slew of ATMs. As a millennial who can’t read a handwritten map, I went ahead with my GPS. As I walked out of the walled medina, I was catcalled by local men as I walked down a promenade, that equaled one city block. They threw out slurs of “Welcome Beautiful”, “I love you” along with whistles, and the calls for attention. Once I made my way to the sidewalk trekking along the main highway, I heard horns blow and motorcyclists blow kissy faces at me and turn their heads around as  they were driving. Now, I’m well aware that Morocco is a muslim nation, and as always, I pre-planned my outfits to be conservative, movable, and complimenting to the area. This mustard color dress I was wearing was a $7 clearance Zara dress that I picked up a year ago in Mexico. This is a dress that I’ve worn to work, brunch, dinner, and church. The same dress that I’d received positive, and harmless compliments about from friends and strangers. The dress was long sleeve, hitting my shin, and was not see-through. The fact that I was getting this unwanted attention was worrisome to me. My female counterparts who were adorned in burkas and hijabs weren’t getting a second glance or unwanted catcalls, so I figured, it’s because I don’t look like a local. I kept my head down, not making eye contact with men, or engaging them and kept it moving. 

Now 14 minutes in to my trek, Google Maps was telling me to take a slight right turn down what looked like a dirt road, I walked a block down the road, and saw no civilization in sight, so I turned my ass around, and headed back to my riad. On my return, having to take the same route back, I came across the same men and their unwanted comments. The winding cobblestone alleyways of the medinas, stray cats, and the ever so hurried motorcyclists made for a quick acclimation to the old city. I made it back to the riad, feeling defeated. I asked a female kitchen staff if she recommended a particular taxi driver to take me to the closest ATM. She gave me directions to follow to find the taxi stand and recommend that I pay no more than 20 dirhman to the driver. Now, you have to understand that the streets of the medina are not labeled with your traditional city street name posts. The medina twists and turns and before you know it, the street that you’re standing on may be a dead end a few feet ahead. My understanding or use of the Arabic language is non-existent, so I found negotiating price with a taxi drive and asking to be taken to an ATM to be quite difficult. I used the riad’s wifi again to find other nearby ATMs, and attempt to follow the directions leading away from the winding medina streets.  

On round 2, I finally found a few ATMs and a Western Union. I tried my debit card again on the 3 ATMs, and my card did not work. I even went to the Western Union, and because I did not have cash, they were unable to help me. I returned back to my riad, passing the hawking men for the fourth time, feeling defeated. I called my bank to see if there were any alerts on my account, or anything restricting me from withdrawing money, and they saw nothing. They hadn’t even seen activity on my account for me trying to access any of the ATMs. You’re probably thinking by now, “Well why didn’t you exchange money in any of the cities before you arrived in Morocco?” Because Morocco has a closed currency, you cannot request or exchange money outside of the country. They do not have a shared currency with another country, so you can only get Moroccan dirhams within the country.

After I shed a thug tear, by the courtyard pool, I vented to the front desk receptionist, and he told me that many Moroccan banks and ATMs only accept Moroccan debit cards. It’s the luck of the draw which Moroccan bank or ATM will accept or has a relationship with foreign banks.

I tried to make myself feel better and take pictures of the beautiful courtyard, but after watching me struggle to take my own pictures, he offered to assist me, and I had an impromptu photoshoot.

After I got myself together, I headed out to the Henna Cafe in hopes that they accept debit and credit cards. Now, the Henna Cafe, operated by women is a cafe offering beverages and light bites, as well as henna tattoos with all proceeds going back to the community to assist with educational costs. Along the way, I ran in to another ATM. I gave it a try, and glory to god, it worked, and I was able to withdraw! I went to the Henna Cafe, then to Al Fassia Restaurant for dinner…my first meal of the day.

After dinner, I was able to finally do what I came to Marrakech to do, shop. There are so many vendor stalls within the medina selling everything from lanterns to tea sets to clothing and shoes, to handbags, and cosmetics mostly all handmade. I ended up buying a larger straw weaved bag and a kaftan dress with embroidery. By this time, it was getting dark, and I was fairly deep in to the medina. I used Google Maps to find my way back to my riad, but as I was walking, the vendor stalls and restaurants started to dwindle and it became more residential. I walked into an area with no street lights, so it was pitch black. I had to use my cell phone flashlight to see in front of me. Again, I stayed with my head down, not making eye contact, and this young man approached me — he couldn’t have been any older than 18 or 19 years old. He immediately asked where I was going, but he could see the name of my riad on Google Maps with my phone screen on, and he told me to follow him because I was going the wrong way. Now, I’d read in blogs, articles, and vlogs that locals in Morocco’s medinas would give directions expecting to be tipped, or give tourists the wrong directions in order for them to get lost, or to send them to businesses they wanted them to visit. I had the business card of my riad and their phone number in case I got lost, so I avoided asking for directions unless I was terribly lost. This young man followed me through the winding alleys, and made light conversation. I told him that I was traveling with my family and my dad was waiting on me, but he was quite persistent. Now, based on Google Maps, I would have walked in to a dead end, but the young man did lead me to my riad, and in less time than what Google Maps projected. I was genuinely thankful to arrive to my riad. As we approached the door, the young man offered to hold my shopping bags and purse while I unlocked and opened the heavy 200 year old wooden door. I declined. The doors to riads are not like traditional hotel entrance doors. There are no automatic sliding doors, but double wooden doors that are opened by lock and key. Every guest is given 2 keys, one for their room door, and one for the riad’s main door to enter and exit as they please.

I was half way in the door and thanked the young man with 20 dirhams, which was equivalent to $2 USD for the 3 minute walk. His tone immediately changed and he became irate. He put his foot in the door as I tried to close it, and demanded more money. There were two men standing across the alley from us while this went down. I handed the young man the money again and tried to close the door, and he was adamant that 20 dirham was an insult and demanded 200 dirham with his foot in the door preventing me from closing the door. One of the men that were watching us came over as if I was just giving money away and stood in the door way as well. The young man continued to demand more money, after I told him I had no more small bills. I gave the other man who was centered in the door way the 20 dirhams to try to reason with the young man in hopes of leaving me alone. To try to get away, I told the young man that I would have to get the money from inside my hotel room, and that I would be back. I left the doorway, scurried through the dark hallway of the riad to the reception desk, and no one was at the station working. I turned to the kitchen and no employees were in the restaurant, so I ran through the courtyard and up three flights of stairs to my bedroom, terrified that they had followed me, or would be waiting in the courtyard for me to reappear. My hands began to shake as I fumbled with the keys to open my bedroom door. I didn’t turn on the lights in my bedroom in fear that they would see me through the room’s sheer curtains. I jumped in the bed and laid there fully clothed and paralyzed with fear. Every time I heard footsteps on the marble floors near my door my heart dropped, thinking it was one of the men looking for money.

I’d never felt so vulnerable, preyed upon, and terrified before in my life. In a country where I barely spoke any of the languages, I was frightened and wanted to stay prisoner to my hotel room. The incident happened around 9pm, and I didn’t fall asleep or close my eyes until 4am once the sun was starting to come up. I wrote a post to my Facebook travel group detailing what had happened to me, and I woke up at 8am with over 200 comments on my Facebook post with words of encouragement. Most of the commenters were women, those who retorted that they too experienced the catcalling in Marrakech or the “directions scam”. A lot of people also mentioned that the men are harmless. Some women reported being groped and 2 women even commented that their friends faced attempted kidnappings. I was told that my riad did me a disservice by not offering or recommending a guide. Based on others who’ve visited Morocco extensively, riads are prone to have a driver and/or tour guide on hand to refer their guests to. Since the medina is difficult to navigate almost everyone will need assistance to successfully navigate the souks. This experience taught me that everyone is harmless until they’re not. There was no sense in me risking my safety, expecting someone who was not supposed to cross a line, to actually cross that line .

Recalling that night, things could have gone so differently! What if either of the men had a weapon? What if they snatched my purse with my only working debit card in it? What if they were bold enough to actually chase after me through the riad? What if he or anyone in that pitch black stretch of the medina decided to use my vulnerability to their advantage and attack me? Or the thing that literally kept me up all night, what if either of the men decided to keep watch over my riad’s only entry way, waiting for me to leave? These people knew where I stayed and either lived across the alley, or at least were very familiar with the area. I was leaving Marrakech the following day, headed to the desert and needed to get back to my lucky ATM to withdraw more money. I also had a hamman scheduled before my departure from Marrakech. I thought of asking the hotel to have someone accompany me, but rationalizing that there was only one person working the front desk, two women in housekeeping, and two women working the restaurant during breakfast and checkout, so their resources were not equipped to escort me.

Around 11 am, my arranged driver to the desert camp picked me up, and I was finally leaving Marrakech. On the ride to the desert, my driver asked if I enjoyed my time in Marrakech. I reluctantly said no, because I didn’t want to offend someone in their country. He asked why, and after I explained to him what happened,  he paused and said, “It’s one experience with one person.” While he was nonchalant and not outraged, he was right. Learn from that experience and move smarter next time. 

Sunset at the camp was amazing! Employees started lighting the fire pits, candles along the walking paths and candles in each tent. There are also fireplaces in each tent, but during September, it wasn’t cold enough to warrant the extra heat.

Dinner was served barbar style starting off with Moroccan bread, small appetizers and water. Later, it was followed by beef and vegetable tangine served with couscous. In the main tent there was also live music provided for us. 

I definitely thought that sunrise in the desert would be amazing , but the morning that I was there was super cloudy and foggy, so no amazing sunrise for me. Surpisingly though, through my entire time there, the weather was bearable and quite windy, so we always had a breeze without the shade. Upon dawn, I had breakfast which consisted of eggs made your way, Moroccan bread, fresh squeezed orange juice, a variety of fruit, and fresh baked cake. 

Checkout is at 11 am, but you are welcome to lounge around the camp, you just have to vacate your tent. 

At 10 am, my driver came back to the camp to collect me and bring me to the airport. I was now headed to Chefchauoen, the blue city of Morocco

Overall, I had a great time at Scarabeo! The food here was the best that I had in Morocco.

To get to Chefchauoen from Marrakech, I took a flight on AirArabia to Tangier for $30 one way. From there, I needed to find transportation from Tangier to Chefchauoen, which is a roughly 90 minute drive. Because of the debauchery that happened in Marrakech, I wasn’t able to book on ground transportation beforehand. At the last minute at the Marrakech airport, I was able to book online a private driver through Tangier Taxi for $100, and call to confirm a driver was available. This was very expensive since you can allegedly find a taxi driver at the airport to transport you for $70 one way, or take the CTM bus. I don’t remember seeing a taxi stand, but obviously since my first ordeal in Marrakech, I was not getting in a taxi alone. The CTM bus leaves once a day to Chefchauoen from Tangier, and my flight arrived 2 hours after the bus departed, so…

The weather in Tangier, and the journey to Chefchauoen was great. It was quite breezy, and you can feel that you were near the ocean. My driver was great, he was very professional and made great conversation, pointing out landmarks and fun facts along the way.

We finally arrived uphill of Chefchauoen, and my driver connected with the front desk of my hotel to retrieve me. Now Chef, as it is affectionately called does not have a medina, but the streets are very narrow and uphill lined with cobblestone, so driving cars through the streets are not permissible. You will see many mini cars and narrow trucks with wagons to transport goods to businesses.

I booked one night at La Petite Chefchauoen for $66 through Booking.com. La Petite is the absolute cutest boutique hotel! There are less than one dozen rooms in the quaint four floor hotel, with an amazing rooftop area with wide views of Chef and the Rif mountains.

Before night fell, I headed to Aladdin Restaurant for dinner, and headed to the rooftop. Most hotels and restaurants in Chef are multi-leveled with a rooftop area showcasing the beautiful view. To reach this view, you’ll have to walk up winding narrow staircases. This city is definitely not ideal for those with mobility issues because of the lack of sidewalks, cobblestone streets and lack of elevators.

Entrance to Aladdin is a little tricky. To enter, you have to enter from the back street.

Dinner started off with Moroccan bread, khobz and a dish of olives. I hate olives, and anything soaked in vinegar, but when in Rome. I tried 2 of the fresh olives, and that was enough to reenforce the notion that I don’t like olives. My waiter brought me the wrong dish, because he brought out tagine chicken with hot olives. Since service was a little slow, I didn’t want to wait another half an hour for my correct dish, so I just cut my losses on the $5 dinner. I also ordered flan for dessert, which was pretty good.

Chef’s souks are much smaller than Marrakech, and even though the sun was setting, I already had a pin dropped on my hotel on Google Maps, so I was less than a 7 minute walk away. I visited the nearby souks to view the rugs, jewelry, clothing, and souvenirs. I made it back to my hotel and felt a little more assured.

The following morning, I HAD to take pictures in the blue city. According to my driver and several locals, Chefchaouen is blue due to the Jewish influence during Hitler’s reign. With the Jewish influx of the 1930s-1940s, they brought their culture of blue buildings, which reminds them of the sky, heaven, and God. Now why the city is still blue remains the age old question with many theories proclaiming that the blue attracts tourists to the unremarkable trade city, blue keeps mosquitos away, keeping the buildings blue helps everything to blend in with no one outlier, or that it is easier to maintain because the blue keeps their homes and buildings cool in the warmer months.

For lunch, I headed to the Cafe Clock, which is known for their camel burgers and traditional Moroccan cooking classes. They have multiple locations throughout Morocco, so even if you don’t visit Chef, you can still visit them in Marrakech and Fes. I definitely have a YOLO spirit, but am still apprehensive to try exotic meats and food. I sat next to an Australian couple, who ordered the burger and liked it. They noted that it tasted like sausage. After ordering my lamb tagine, I wish I ordered the lamb burger. To make up for lunch, I indulged in the Cafe Clock’s beautiful rooptop views. I don’t think that any building in Chef has a bad view, so where ever you are, make sure you head to the rooftop!

If I had a guide, or was traveling with someone else, or was not on edge with anxiety, I definitely would have ventured deeper in to Chef and explored a little more.

After lunch, it was time for me to leave Chefchaouen and head to my final city in Morocco, Fes! Before departing New Orleans, for weeks prior I’d been trying to book in country transportation for Morocco’s bus and bullet train system, but it never worked! After the incident in Marrakech, I was a little preoccupied and forgot to purchase transportation to and from Tangier-Chefchaouen. To get from Chef to Fes, I had to take the CTM bus, which is another coach bus similar to Greyhound. La Petite ordered a taxi to take me to the CTM bus station. Once I got the bus station, I purchased a ticket back to Tangier, and figured I would take another bus, or a train to Fes. Minutes later, I looked up at their timetables and saw that there was a direct bus to Fes. I asked the ticket agent for a ticket to Fes, but sadly I waited too late, and the bus was now fully booked. Soo, I had to take a 2 hour bus ride north, then go 6 hours south. Great! Once I arrived in Tangier, I took a cab to the train station to head to Fes, with seconds to spare. I purchased a ticket from the gate agent and he encouraged me to purchase a first class ticket for $16. Once I got on the train, in my opinion there was no considerable difference between coach and first class, so I could have saved the $2 difference. For the majority of the ride, I was the only person in the first class train car.

Afterwards, we passed through the garment area where more formal clothing is made, such as bridal gowns and suits and more traditional wear. Close by, we saw carriages, which carry the brides during their wedding ceremony being made by hand out of wood, then burial caskets, home goods such as cutlery, pots, and brass goods. Our last few stops were to the rug manufacturer and silk manufacturers.

Before arriving in Morocco, so many blogs I’d read said “Get lost in the medina!” Girl, no. You don’t want those troubles, honestly. I could not imagine navigating deep in to the medina by myself or with a non local. There are so many different souks and portions of the medina that you are bound to get lost. My guide started the tour at the produce district, and on our way back to my riad, we didn’t even pass it, so had I been alone, I would have been bound to be lost and had a panic attack.

Coincidentally, every ATM machine that I used after my first day in Morocco worked for me! I found a working ATM at the departure terminal at the Marrakech airport twice, I was able to use a random ATM at the square in Chef, I found another one near the bus station in Tangier, as well as a lone ATM in the Fes medina. Not once did I receive a fraud notification, nor was my card declined.