Category: Travel

Surfing and traveling slowly around the kingdom of Morocco with only a Nikon F3 for company.

On a morning from a Bougart movie,
in a country where they turn back time
you go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
contemplating a crime...

Towards the end of last year I spent two months traveling around Morocco. Taking only a few clothes, my trusty Nikon F3 without social media – I wanted to feel immersed in the travel experience more than I have before.

I booked a flight and found that this trip became a reminder of why I, and many others, decide to travel. Which is to me, to seek the novel, to experience a way of life that differs to one’s own and to strip away all the noise of daily life.

For photos and memories, I used my new Nikon F3 and a couple rolls of film, therefore delaying the gratification we’ve all become accustomed to. Having no Instagram to post to meant only I and friends I chose to share them with, would see them.

Starting off in Marrakesh, I spent a month surfing on the south coast before heading inland to a couple of towns like Imlil, Oarzazarte, M’hamid. Afterwards I made my way north to Fez and Chefchoauen and finished up in Tangier. 

࿇ Marrakesh: aka the ‘Red City’  

Landing in Marrakesh, I thought the plane would skid in sideways on landing. Such a sense of relief I felt when the doors opened, I almost kissed the ground. The first impression of this famous red city from the plane window was: dry wide-open spaces with everything coated in the colour terracotta – even the sky. I stepped off the plane and into 40’C of dry north African heat with a big blue sky and shining sun above. 

I organised to be picked up from the airport as I was not ,at this point, fluent in the art of bargaining with taxi drivers. The lack of skyscrapers was something I first noticed as we headed towards my accomodation in the medina¹. Getting closer to the old city itself, we drove through many different babs (Arabic gates), all designed in the typical Islamic style. I thought of how completely different it is from anywhere I’ve been so far, and I loved it.

After getting ripped off by the driver ,which I only noticed later, and trudging through the medina with a heavy backpack, I arrived at my hostel. Tired, hot and dusty but happy.

The first night was a reminder that I was indeed back in Africa. I was back on the continent that raised me, although I was used to the southern locales.

The riad seemed to be more of a hostel than a hotel. Both the light and door were broken and when it came time to retire for the night, I noticed I was missing a sheet. When trying to locate the receptionist for one, he was no where to be found. Luckily I packed a large cotton sarong/scarf that I fashioned into a blanket.

After hearing stories and worries from others about being a lone woman in Morocco, I was reluctant at first, but after a walk through the Medina lit up and bustling at night– I could see I worried for nothing. 

I ventured out for a bite to eat and was welcomed into the balmy night with tourists clogging the streets, scents of varying origin wafting through the air and vendors yelling out ‘Shakira’ , ‘hello gingie’ to me as I passed by. Bodies pressed up against each other as we all tried to pass through the chaos, with the ringing of bicycles mixing with the engines of scooters, as they too tried to navigate the busy alleyways. 

Dinner, I took up on the rooftop of a not-too-touristy place while I watched the street life below. Chaos and culture shock. The more foreign to me, the better. My first time in Marrakesh was brief, but no matter, I was heading to the coast and planned to come back … 

The following morning, I wandered around the medina in the early morning light, snapping a few photos and managing to get lost. It was peaceful without the crowds of the night before. As I had only brought my film camera with me, I was conscious and more mindful of what I took photographs of, saving my precious film for scenes I knew were worth it.

Without social media, there was no immediate need for me to share these photos with the world. I could simply snap a photo for my own memory and be content with it. Knowing I wouldn’t see these photographs until after I got back to Australia and had them developed made the experience even sweeter. 

Nothing was open yet at 8am, but the salesmen slowly preparing for the day. I walked past a man about to slaughter chickens, another welding lamps together and one craftsman studding a leather bag. It was refreshing to see many of the goods for sale in the medina are still mostly made by hand in the old city itself.  

I was too shy to ask in my limited French if I could take photos of them but managed a few sneaky shots. 

࿇ Essaouira:the ‘windy city’

Leaving Marrakesh behind, there was not much to see out the shuttle’s window, just an endless expanse of rock and sand, dry and sunbaked.

The shuttle ride felt longer than 3hrs and a few times I thought we were about to collide head on with oncoming trucks when the driver  overtaking – but my fellow passengers and I survived!

Essaouira (pronounced: ess-ah-WEER-ah) was my proper entry point into Morocco.  I spent 4 days here, wandering around the medina, window shopping in the souk (marketplace) and drinking copious amounts of sweet mint tea…

This is a fishing town that’s well known for kite and wind surfing. I found the souk to be a lot less intense than in Marrakesh, and the salesmen a bit more relaxed. I experienced ‘true’ Moroccan hospitality when one day I got chatting to a youngish salesman dressed in Amazigh/ Berber regalia. He caught me looking at the collection of antique jewellery outside his small store. I was invited in for tea, and as I had nothing to do that day, I reluctantly agreed. He was kind and very chatty but as a woman alone, I was hesitant to relax completely – so I sipped my tea slowly, made small talk and managed to leave without buying anything – promising Id return later for a proper look… 

My favourite thing to do was to just sit and watch the world go by. I stumbled upon a small cafe in the medina, called Essaouira Soul Cafe. A great place to just observe life going on all around, and their mint tea is excellent. I sat here the first time savouring my sweet mint tea and munching on spicy olives and almonds I bought for just 75c. 

Days were slow but it just felt natural to linger on in a place with no real fixed itinerary. No rush to check off all the sights needed to be seen. Was this because I didn’t have instagram/ a recommendation list to dictate to me what I ‘must and must do while in Essaouira’ . I simply did what felt right or seemed interesting in the moment.

I always believe that one can truly observe a new culture simply by sitting still in a busy marketplace – you realise that you don’t have to seek out a local experience, as local life seems to just happen around you. 

Since I heard about the famous hammams² in Morocco I knew it was something I wanted to try while I was there. My first, and sadly only, hammam experience was a local one, at a place called Hammam Essaidi, which I found when I got lost on my way back to the hostel. It turned out that it was run by one of the housekeeper’s friends, so she made sure that I got a good deal. 

 First, I had to strip to my underwear and was given slides to wear.  

I was led through two low archways into two interconnected steam rooms. One of the women instructed me to sit on a little plastic mat on the floor while warm water was poured over me. She scrubbed with a grainy paste twice (I found out later it was henna) and moved me into the main chamber. 

I was scrubbed again with henna, dosed with more warm water then given a soft, gooey substance (savon noir) to rub all over – which smelt amazing. 

There was also more scrubbing with a kessa mit (rough hand glove) and another black scrub. This caused so much gunk to come off my skin. I felt gross and hoped the other women in the hammam didn’t think I was a dirty backpacker! I was later told that this is normal, and it happens no matter how clean or dirty you are. 

At the end of the experience, I was rinsed off one last time and given a massage. I left feeling so relaxed and with my skin silky soft. I even had my hair washed and brushed –simply divine! 

࿇ Imsouane:  a not-so-sleepy surf town 

Oh Imsouane, I didnt think I’d like you as much as i did! 

Back on the bus later that day, this time heading south in search of surf. I ended up in a town famous for its long, rolling waves that are perfect for nose-riding a longboard. A town called Imsouane.

After staying in a shabby hostel for the first two nights – where I was bitten by bugs and woken up by barking dogs – I moved to a much nice hostel closer to the beach, called Aman. So glad I did as I met some truly inspiring women in my dorm room, including my friend Shreemona and a German woman in her early 60s who works in digital marketing and lives out of her suitcase.

My first night here I was feeling particularly emotional and while walking around looking for food, some men drove by and yelled out at me from their truck. I mumbled an obscenity under my breath and put on my best bitch face. Someone else then asked for my number, but I pretended I had a boyfriend. 

Initially I planned to stay a week before heading to Tamraght, but I ended up coming back here and staying a month in total. Why? The surfing and the friends I made along the way. Days were spent surfing, eating, napping, and just hanging out. I found myself a sort of makeshift community of like-minded solo female travellers, that when the time came I was sad to leave.

I surfed mostly at the Bay (a.k.a Magic Bay) and further down at what the locals call ‘Mysteries’. The swell took some time coming in, but when it finally did, it was magical. I’ve never nose-ridden (on a longboard) so much in my life! Truely such long, delicious waves. The only downside is having to navigate through the crowds of Europeans having lessons on soft tops. 

Peak swell season is Nov-Jan when the winter swells really picks up and wraps long lines around the pier. I arrived at the end of September and left late October, and I still managed to catch some beautiful waves before the proper winter crowds arrived. Imsouane is famous for its long right-hand breaking wave, known as ‘the longest right in Africa’. 

I heard from an older French surfer that around 20 years ago surfers had to walk through the port and between the fishermen’s boats to get/paddle to the peak. Now there’s concrete steps leading right into the water, and a dirt path along the bottom of the cliff. So its much more accessible for all levels of surfers. I thought of how adventurous it must of felt those 20 years ago – a life pre social media. 

Beginners, tourists, foreign surfers alike are drawn to these gentle, forgiving waves. No doubt images online have helped create the popularity of this bay. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe something more hidden, but of course if it’s online and close to Europe, it won’t be a hidden gem anymore.

The days flew by, and I was hesitant to leave, as that meant the trip was closer to ending. I had hoped to stay longer by volunteering at a nearby hostel, but when that fell through, it was a sign to move on. 

࿇ Slowing down in Tamraght

An hour and a half south of Imsouane is the town of Tamraght. It’s known as the chill, less touristy sibling of nearby beach town Taghazout, the latter making every surfers travel list due to the famous Anchor Point surf spot being nearby. I spent 3 nights here just hanging out at the hostel and checking waves. It’s a more inconvenient location if you want to surf as the town itself sits back behind the main road, with all the fancy resorts being built along the beachfront from Tamraght to Taghazout. But this doesn’t matter if you have a rental car. 

After a whole day spent riding the Souk to Surf buses I made it to Tamraght. Watching the sunset from the famous Taghazout skatepark, I felt how different the vibe was. I stayed at one of the best hostels, Lunar Surfhouse. Their breakfasts are simply divine!

I had managed to surf just once during my time here, at a beach called Tamri, named after the town close by. I scored a lift there with a Spanish guy staying at the surf house whose rental car myself and a kiwi girl packed with boards as we headed off in search of a wave. (Getting around without a car is difficult but not impossible).  

The sun was hot and harsh, and the sand scorched our feet as we dashed across it to the water’s edge. Surfing in those blue clean waves that morning, I looked behind me at the dry landscape of Tamri and had a disconnected feeling as I couldn’t believe I was in Morocco surfing.  

We had picked up a couple of reluctant hitchhikers on the way, who were happy to see us. When we arrived at Tamri we checked the surf and fueled up with a pre-surf café from a nearby roadside mobile coffee car. 

The towns of Tamraght and Taghazout I felt, are very gentrified and set up for European travelers, but Tamri town itself was still very Moroccan, which was nice to see. Post surf, we drove into Tamri on the hunt for a fish snack and were greeted with bustling sidewalk restaurants where waiters called out to us to try their seafood options. We settled on one that looked more organised than the rest, and watched Pol tuck into his plate of fish, while cats mewled at our feet for scraps. Laylah and I weren’t too hungry at this time and as both semi-serious vegetarians declined his offer of fish. 

After about a month of surfing the coast, it was time to move on and see more of Morocco. One night back in Marrakesh before heading into the mountains. 

࿇ Taghazout: touristy & busy

I only briefly spent time here. Both times I was with people I met in other towns.

The first time was with two people I met at the hostel in Tamraght. We headed to the famous Taghazhout skate park in the afternoon to check out the locals carving it up, watch the sunset and drink a beverage – but it seemed the whole population of Taghazout travellers had the same idea!

We went back the next day to practice and found it was basically empty with other a handful of others practicing.

࿇ Imlil: a quiet reprieve

I spent 2 days hanging out in Imlil, famous for hiking nearby Mount Toubkal. I stayed at Gite Tamsoualt, which is cheap, clean but a 15 min walk out of town, uphill.

To get here, I hunted down a 50MAD collective taxi³ from Marrakesh, and after waiting 1hr for it to fill up, we were off on our way to the mountains. 

After getting dropped off at the taxi rank at the bottom of town, I headed off uphill to where my accommodation was and when I realised it was out of town a fit further, I wanted to cry. Id already been walking for 15 mins with a heavy backpack and got lost.  I finally got there and dumped the bags before heading back into town to check it out. 

First thing I notice was the drop in temperature, which was a welcome reprieve from the heat of Marrakesh ,the second were the mules/donkeys the locals were all riding. The third was the quiet and stillness after being in the bustling heart of the city. There were a few other tourists around, all in hiking gear. I only spent a few days here relaxing and did a small hike to a nearby waterfall with the owner of the gite. 

࿇ Famous Ouzazarte &Ait Ben Haddou

Coming down from the mountains, I stayed overnight in Marrakesh again before briefly visiting Ouazazarte and Ait Ben Haddou. Well-known as a backdrop for various movies over the years. It was the halfway point to my next destination on the edge of the Sahara. 

࿇ Embracing the desert in Mhamid El Ghizlane & the Sahara 

M’hamid El Ghizlane, a small town that is one of the last before the vastness of the Sahara and is also known as the ‘Window to the Sahara”. Once here I took a 3-day journey into the Sahara, organised by the accommodation I was staying at, Dar Yaya. I had heard about this town from a Dutch girl staying in my hostel in Imsouane and it sounded like the less busy way of seeing the Sahara, compared to the touristy friendly Zagora which was further north.  

M’hamid is interesting and cool. A sort of wild west/ final frontier/last outpost before the expansive Sahara Desert. Desert cowboys wrapped up in traditional blue scarves and djellabas riding around town on motorbikes and in 4x4s. It’s dusty, dirty and with not much going on but I liked it.  A mixture of dust and garbage swirl through the town streets, while wizen and sunbaked Sahara men sit about in the shade. Town itself is made up of a main street and small dirt roads leading off of it to the various guesthouses that house adventure tourists heading into the dunes. The immediate scenery consists of a few scattered convenience stores Moroccan style selling bread, water, fruit, sweets and a sign every now and then advertising a Riad or Dar or excursion into the desert. 

I stayed at Dar Yaya and organised my desert trip with them too. The rooms are super comfy and clean and the trip was such a cool experience. My only fault is that is was very pricey – I was the only one there at the time so I had to go alone and pay the hefty price as it was something I wanted to experience before I left. I do highly recommend the excursion, even for a day as it’s something to see.

 ࿇ The magic of Fes (Fez)

After resting for a day post-Sahara experience, a 10hr bus took me back to Marrakesh for a night before the 7hr train to Fes. 

Fes is such a cool city. It feels less touristy than Marrakesh and seems more local, more Moroccan. I was drawn to Fes due to my love of handmade goods and the famous Chouara tannery – one of several UNESCO tanneries there. 

I took a walking tour throughout the chaotic medina with a local guide and really got to catch a glimpse into the working craftsmen’s life within this vibrant city.  

Even though I was warned that Fes is more ‘dangerous’ than other cities in Morocco, I really liked it. Not super touristy, just yet. The medina and its souk are still very much set up for the Moroccan locals. There were many vendors/stores selling the same product and they stay in business by having loyal customers. People normally buy in the souk a couple of times a day/week so groceries are fresh. There was a bakery where you could bring your own dough and they’d cook it for you (if you don’t have the time), which is very cool. As in many Muslim countries, street cats are everywhere and are under foot as they hang around the butchers and fish mongers, making off with scraps thrown their way. 

Walking back after the tour, I stumbled upon a shady courtyard with a tree at its centre. Light was filtering in through the branches and leaves above and mixed with smoke coming out of a nearby restaurant. It was quieter and more peaceful all of a sudden and was quite magical. I wish I’d had more time to get lost in the belly of the medina. 

࿇ Chefchaouen aka the ‘Blue City’

On the bus to Chefchaouen, I noticed the landscape change as the bus headed into the Rif mountains. It became greener and reminded me of parts of Spain and Portugal, where pines grow in clumps on the hill. 

The famous ‘blue city’ was a bit of a letdown. More set up now as a tourist trap that serves only as a backdrop for Instagram photos instead of the quaint mountain town I’ve heard it use to be. I feel i missed it in its prime. Traditionally it use to be a lot smaller and was only faintly painted in light blue, now seems like every building is painted vivid blue just to serve as a backdrop for photographs – and indeed there was one local profiting off his courtyard by charging tourists to take photos in his space.  Who could blame him.

I woke up early one misty morning and managed to get a few quiet shots in before the crowds descended upon the blue streets. The sun had yet to break through the crowds as I wandered the back alleys, my only companions, the local cats who followed me and rubbed against my legs. I walked high up towards the back of the medina and along the walls, through schoolchildren running off to school.

࿇ Cafe-hopping in Tangier

The last stop in Morocco before heading back to Australia, was Tangier.  

A city I most looked forward to visiting, Tangier did not disappoint. A Moroccan city with a European twist. Many famous literati such as Paul Bowles and William Burroughs had wandered through the same streets and drunk tea at cafes I too visited.  

While in Tangier, my plan was to visit as many places as Anthony Bourdain did, a writer and traveler, who was inspired by Bowles and Burroughs, and who inspired me with his travel shows No Reservations and Parts Unknown. I also discovered that the medina is a great place to cafe hop in wet weather. 

 Places I managed to visit on Anthony Bourdain’s list⁴: 

• Petit Socco 
• Cafe Baba 
• Restaurant le Saveur de Poisson 
• Cafe Tingis 
• Cinema Rif cafe in the Gran Socco 
• Fendal dar dbagh

Gran Socco & Cinema Rif cafe

On the first night, darkness fell over the medina as I sat by the hostel window and watched raindrops collect on the window glass. After a quick shower I headed out to hunt down a toothbrush and dinner. 

Cafe Tingis

As torrential rain moved in, I ducked into the famous Cafe Tingis for a coffee and waited out the wet. I sat outside on the verandah and had a little kitty companion on my lap while we watched the rain pelt the street and people sideways. When the worst was over, I ventured out and found a snack, toothbrush and lozenges. Craving a soup but not really wanting to head out into the rain again, I found a place nearby with delicious soup for just 20MAD.  

Cafe Baba

Waking up on the second day, I tracked down the location of the infamous Cafe Baba, which I read so much about, only after getting a bit lost. I had bought a cute postcard from a French-owned bookstore, Les Insolites, and took this out in the cafe to write in while I sipped sweet mint tea and gazed out over the rooftops of Tangier’s medina.  

Cafe Baba is known to be a ‘weed cafe’ as you can smoke hash freely here. The sweet musky scent of marijuana hung/wafted in the air as I looked around me at the relaxed, happy faces, most belonging to the young locals. . I sat there drinking sweet mint tea. I gazed out the window and could see the Spanish port town of Tarifa hidden behind some clouds in the distance…

Sad as I was for the trip to be over, I found it sparked a love of writing and rekindled my interest in film photography – two passions I feel I lost or ignored while I had social media. Using only my old iPhone, film camera and journal, I came to appreciate the privilege of travel and letting the journey take shape as it happened.

And I know the next time I travel it will be at a slower, more local pace.

1. medina: ancient walled part of the city, common in North Africa ↩︎
2. hammam: traditional bathhouses found in the Islamic world, also known as Turkish bathhouses ↩︎
3. collective taxi: share the taxi with others going the same way – just more time consuming as you must wait for it to fill up but budget friendly 
   ↩︎
4. As seen in his travel tv show Parts Unknown in the Tangier episode ↩︎

*All film photographs are taken on various 35mm film by me unless otherwise stated. All illustrations are mine too.

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