How do you describe an experience that you yourself still cannot fully make sense of? This is where my head is at right now. Morocco. The place that has been by far my most memorable excursion to date has also been the most difficult to verbalize and convey to others. I’d heard stories and received advice beforehand on travelling to Marrakech and its, eh, unique environment, but nothing can truly prepare you for immersing yourself into the city firsthand . . . So I learned upon arrival.
I’ve been told the objective of travel is to feel uncomfortable — to extend beyond the security of what you know and to embrace the unknown nuances that different cultures, landscapes, cuisines, and people offer — and that is no foreign sentiment for travelers in Old Town Marrakech. Though travelling solo brings many concerns and uncertainties to some, I’ve luckily had previous positive experiences with it; the trip did however encompass several other firsts, notably: my first time in Africa, my first time in a predominantly Muslim nation, and most excitingly, my first time seeing sunlight in eight months!
The best I can describe my time in Marrakech as is chaotic sensory overload. The medieval, fortified city thrives on tourism, with all alleyways and avenues converging upon the renown pandemonium that is the Jemaa el-Fnaa city center. From sunrise to well beyond sunset, musical and tribal dance entertainment, snake charmers, henna artists, and merchants all compete for the attention of thousands of individuals, as vehicles, horses, motorbikes, and pedestrians navigate themselves in every which way. It is an experience that requires your undivided attention and ‘guard up’ mentality at all times. It is not a destination for the faint of heart, and certainly not for the weak minded; if you can overlook the filthy streets and poor living and working conditions of the local population, you’re sure to encounter other concerns. GPS is of trivial use — the intricate labyrinth of souk alleys within the medina will leave you aimless and lost for hours on end. Petty crime and exploitative locals will seek to scam you out of Dirham in exchange for directions, or worse, attempt to lure you into back alleyways to their friend or relatives’ shops to purchase their goods or rob you. And, as you can likely guess, a 6’7” solo traveler with the skin complexion of Casper the Ghost is a prime target. To put it bluntly, the trip proved stressful, and even at times scary, but ultimately it really pushed me to grow. To become comfortable being uncomfortable. More important than experimenting with new food and experiences, my time in Marrakech challenged me to break through barriers and enhance my ability to handle obstacles independently: to shake the self-conscious feeling of travelling alone and build self-confidence, to develop my problem-solving skills, and to simply be resourceful in foreign environments.
In travel and in life you can fold in the face of adversity or tackle it head on. I’d like to think my years engaged in athletics has taught me to choose the latter, and I’m glad it has. Because beyond the challenges of my time in Morocco were some of the most memorable experiences I’ve had in my life: camping out in the Sahara Desert under the stars, visiting with a Berber Tribe to learn about their distinctive carpet-making pedigree, and waking up each morning to the call to prayer at 5 AM. Paul Theroux once said that travel is only glamorous in retrospect. While I don’t agree in full, with regards to Morocco specifically, I am now beginning to fully appreciate the experiences I had there and how unique the trip was. Sometimes your senses become so overloaded in the moment that it takes time for the dust to settle and your thoughts to process in order for the memories to clearly permeate through.
