Captivated as we trailed Ahmed through the winding moonlit alleys leading us to a narrow passageway that was fully illuminated by what seemed like hundreds of candles looming over blush rose petals mapping out our path to an unassuming door. The door creaked open to a restaurant with an Andalusian-style courtyard nestled amongst banyan & palm trees, an antique fountain and dining tables that were regally adorned with extra-tall candelabras where we were served a 10-course Moroccan dinner.
Totally embodying the phrase, “you never know where the day may lead,” my EPIC Moroccan trip left me with no other choice but to surrender to living in the moment. Just days before this magical dinner, we were standing at a JFK Airport gate pleading with the staff to open the recently closed doors to the only direct flight to Morocco. Not only were we arriving just 20-minutes prior to the plane’s scheduled take off time on a Wednesday, we discovered that we were ticketed for the flight that departed the day before. Settling into our seats for the 8-hour flight from NYC to Casablanca, it didn’t take long for us to drum up a conversation with a couple of frequent travelers to Morocco’s “city of doors.”
Our waiter
Upon arriving in Casablanca, we were glad that we took the couple’s suggestion to limit our time in the city made famous by Humphrey Bogart. Home to the 2nd largest mosque in the world, Casablanca’s traditional architecture was beautiful, but we were ready to move on after a day of hustling through the modern city’s busy narrow streets. We ventured to Fez, before settling into Marrakech’s historic medina.
Our first time visiting the African continent left us enchanted with Jemaa el Fna, the bustling main square where we found ourselves caught in a fantasy of snake charmers, musicians and fez-wearing monkeys. As an ancient epicenter that has a deeply rooted culture where tradition is etched into to its architecture and rituals, the mystifying hues of the fabled “Red City” transcended the aesthetics that I explored in books as a kid. While we enjoyed wandering through decadent palaces and mosques; we were ecstatic about navigating the busy, labyrinthine souks that were comprised of exotic spices, exotic home goods and handmade babouche slippers. We learned to not be afraid to name our price, as high stakes haggling is a very much expected with the souk experience where respecting the dignity of the salesperson is a part of the process.
It was during a stroll to the souk that we found out about an AMAZING opportunity to ride camels to a desert camp. A bit disoriented as we emerged from our SUV to take in the barren landscape before mounting camels to take the trek into Morocco’s Agafay Desert where we took in the miles of sand dusted rolling hills, swapped stories with our guides over a traditional meal served by candlelight and sang folkloric songs to live instruments.
Inside the desert everything felt so seamless. Outside of the desert, the color of our skin and us speaking French, led many people to assume that we were from Cameroon or Senegal. I found it interesting that I had never visited either one of those countries and no one even considered the possibility that we were actually American (my French isn’t even that great). Reflecting back, it may have been helpful in avoiding any Anti-American remarks, so I guess it worked for us at the time.
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” - Martin Buber