From Medinas to Mosques: My Moroccan Adventure

A Moroccan Adventure: Not Quite the Marrakesh Express

With Part One (the Camino) of my three part adventure successfully completed, it was time for Part Two. The moment my flight touched down in Morocco, I knew I was in for more of my ageless adventures. After navigating customs with the long lines, and agents with stern faces, I attempted the simple task of exchanging $20 for dirhams, a transaction that felt like it took approximately seven lifetimes while the exchange clerk chatted away on her phone, ignoring me. But I finally emerged victorious with tip money in hand!

Then came my first lesson in Moroccan airport procedures: apparently, getting your luggage off the carousel isn't the end of the journey. Oh no! You must wheel your bags through yet another X-ray screening before they're allowed to see the outside world. Who knew? I sure didn’t, but you learn something new every day!

First Impressions in Casablanca

The shuttle driver to my hotel was so sweet, a very scraggly old man with a lot of missing teeth. When I attempted my best Arabic on him—'Ma'a as-salama' (goodbye), his face lit up with the biggest grin, one of those magical travel moments that reminds you why you do this. The hotel turned out to be a pleasant surprise: lovely room on the fourth floor, palm trees swaying around a beautifully lit pool. Sure, the décor screamed "I remember the '90s fondly," but it was comfortable, and after international travel, comfort is king. I think for an airport hotel, it was genuinely nice.

The Road to Rabat: A Study in Contrasts

My Gate 1 group tour would begin in Rabat, so a car service was needed from Casablanca. My 11 AM pickup showed up at 11:45 and neither the driver nor the vehicle matched what I'd been promised. The porter at the hotel spoke Arabic to confirm that he was my real driver (which here is of great safety importance). Welcome to Morocco! But the drive itself? Fascinating. The countryside initially looked like scenes straight out of the HBO TV show 'Lioness', quite dramatic and otherworldly. Then we passed clusters of new apartment buildings and slums, followed by the eerie sight of half-constructed complexes with massive cranes frozen in time, monuments to abandoned construction projects.

And then, magic! Traffic backed up and we crossed a bridge into Rabat, and suddenly everything transformed into a lush, green oasis. Clean streets, palm trees, prosperity. In fact, many men using palm fronds are sweeping all day. This is where people work while living in neighboring Sale, a commuter's dream with actual scenery.

The Room Shuffle Chronicles

My Rabat hotel started great: opulent first impressions, views of the pool, river, palm trees, and a stunning symphony hall across the water. But look closer, and you'd spot the mildew, the dirty carpet, the telltale signs of a grand dame needing some serious attention.

Then the power went out.

I went downstairs and was happy to see my friend, Erick G. in the lobby. We had met on a prior Gate 1 tour, and being here was no coincidence. He travels solo frequently, and he invited another solo traveler, so that we would all know someone here! He is a true Southern Kentucky gent.

So in true American style, I was heading to the biggest McDonald’s I’d even seen nearby the hotel for some food. Don’t judge – I like to try our fast food in other countries for fun. The burger with Harissa sauce was the best Mickey D’s I’ve tasted.

Back at the hotel hours passed in increasing heat with no air conditioning. The tour manager finally arrived with news: "We're moving you!" The new room? Even worse, it was grimy with a broken TV literally hanging off the wall. I declined. When the power flickered back on in my original room, I staged a return, only to discover the AC was now deceased. Room number three became my home, adequate being the operative word. The view was great, facing the water, but with the insects, the window remained closed.

Discovering Rabat's Treasures

The morning redeemed everything with a breakfast where the chef personally scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon (yes even in a Muslim country), and sautéed mushrooms for me, perfection with good coffee.

Our first stop was the Royal Palace; a sprawling complex wrapped in golden doors and intricate zellij tilework that practically glows in the sun. You can’t go inside, very VIP-only, but standing at the gates feels like standing at the edge of a storybook. The guards in their immaculate uniforms, the hush of the surrounding gardens, the scale of the architecture… it all whispers, “Yes, royalty really does live like this.” It’s the kind of place where your camera starts clicking before your brain catches up.

From there, we moved on to the Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, one of those rare places where grandeur and serenity manage to coexist. The unfinished tower rises like a giant bookmark in the skyline, a reminder of a once-ambitious dream halted centuries ago. Around it, the mausoleum gleams in marble and carved cedar, with royal tombs resting beneath a canopy of quiet reverence. Inside, the guards stand perfectly still, their presence adding to the sense of ceremony. AND don’t try and take a selfie with the inside guards, I was scolded! Whether you’re a history buff or just a sucker for beauty (guilty), it’s impossible not to feel the gravity and grace of Morocco’s royal legacy here.

By lunch time we wrapped up at the Casbah, a maze of alleys that feels like stepping through time. This is where daily life hums: the scent of cumin and mint tea drifting through open windows, and artisans hammering away in tiny workshops. The walls are luminous, sandy, sun-washed gold, where every turn reveals another slice of everyday magic. It’s lively, a little chaotic, and enchanting—exactly the kind of place you wander without a plan and stumble into moments you’ll think about long after the trip ends.

That Medina was relatively small but charming, with lots of ceramics and artwork, though my heart broke at the sight of so many stray cats, some seemingly in bad condition. One tiny kitten lay fading in the sun, barely able to stand. I scooped it up and reunited it with its mother in a makeshift box shelter. The locals try to care for these street cats, but there are just so many. I was very distraught about the cats and still think about them now.

Lunch at a Jewish restaurant (remnant of a once-thriving community now dwindled down in population) proved memorable for all the wrong reasons. Cold rice, dry kefta resembling hockey pucks, and overly onioned salads. At least the eggplant appetizer was good, and I snagged a bite of someone else's delicious-looking phyllo dessert! It was sustenance and a good social event, and that dessert!

Tram Adventures and Spanish Paella

That afternoon, a group of us ventured back to the Medina via tram, a proper local experience! We wandered through stalls packed with clothing, spices, and leather goods. Think Florence's markets but with distinctly Middle Eastern flair.

Getting back proved trickier. We found a tram station, but it was not at all like the one that we had been at when we disembarked. We decided to walk back to that station and then stumbled upon a Spanish restaurant our tour manager had recommended. Seven of us ordered three paellas and waited... and waited... and waited while they cooked. It was mediocre at best, and those last two hours felt like ten particularly as we tried to figure out calculating the bill per person. We eventually made it back, grabbed McDonald's ice cream cones (because sometimes you just need familiar comfort), and tried to beat the rain that had picked up. I felt so grimy I had to shower immediately despite having packed everything for our early 7:30 AM luggage call.

Wine Country Interlude

En route to Fez, we stopped at a winery that could have been plucked straight from California, dry golden grass, distant mountains, even the facility looked familiar. The fermentation system used concrete tanks with wire reinforcements. I couldn't quite grasp the explanation through the guide's heavy accent, but it seemed innovative, or maybe just historic?

Lunch was served outside under tent canopies with live cooking. We started with rosé (surprisingly decent!) and bread, though I could have done without the hair baked into mine (gross to say the least). The salads featured my nemesis: red and green peppers. Hard pass. I picked onions off the tomato salad and made do. This is a part of tour life – you must be flexible with your food. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes not so much.

The main course of chicken with chicken livers, lemon, and olives was acceptable, though Moroccan chicken seemed universally dry. Erick surrendered his chicken to me. But the red wine? Excellent! Our table became the life of the party, finishing not only our bottles but also liberating unopened ones from more abstemious tables. It was quite the celebration!

I learned something fascinating: they use raw cotton on fruit trees to keep insects away. I made a mental note to research this for my lemon trees back home! I did not buy any of the wine, but others did. Frankly, I had enough to carry!

Arriving in Fez

Driving through Fez's new city, we learned that the ancient Medina's narrow streets are completely impassable to vehicles. We climbed to a spectacular viewpoint where the entire Medina sprawled below us, a magnificent overlook.

Fez, though, that’s where Morocco’s soul gets deep. This is the country’s oldest of the imperial cities, a place where history isn’t just preserved…it’s alive and busy and somehow always under construction. The medina of Fez is a UNESCO maze of 9,000 narrow lanes, crowded souks, ancient mosques, tanneries, and doorways that look like they were carved by storytellers. The city was once the spiritual and intellectual capital of Morocco, home to the world’s oldest continuously operating university. You feel that energy the moment you step inside: the hum of scholars, artisans, merchants, and families weaving their daily lives into a tapestry that hasn’t stopped growing since the 8th century. It’s chaotic, colorful, and completely irresistible. Led by a city guide, we found our way along the dark passageways, learned about the carpets, had a delicious lunch, and then to the Tannery, which smelled so bad that they provided mint to put in your nose.

The vendors selling wallets (6 for $20, then in a final effort, 8 for $20) were relentless following us right to our bus. That wasn’t fun and the tour companies are not able to intervene, which is disappointing. I threatened one with physical violence when he tripped another woman on the tour on purpose!

Back on the bus, our guide explained some terminology: a riad is typically a home (sometimes converted to small hotels) built around interior courtyards with no exterior windows. The souk is the shopping district, the medina is the old city, and a casbah is a fortress which is sometimes a castle depending on where in Africa you are. Yes, Africa! It's easy to forget that Morocco sits on the African continent.

The Fez Marriott was surprisingly grand, ornate crown molding, lofty ceilings, marble and tile bathroom, black and white décor, a balcony, two beds, and actual space! The older rooms maintained an elegant, if dated, charm. I found it quite comfortable. The lobby area was beautiful with a fresh flower display that was simply lovely.

Home-Cooked Magic

That evening delivered one of the trip's highlights: dinner in a local home where two sisters and their mother cook traditional meals in their ground-floor space. They served us couscous with vegetables and beef, pumpkin or squash, and the most delicious raisin dish. One of the sisters came and showed us how you roll the couscous into balls and eat it. She fed one to another traveler, Bunny, and I got that on video! It was quite amusing and proved that Bunny is a trooper. Oddly, no bread appeared, quite unusual for Morocco! Afterward came tea and cookies with these warm, generous women. This is exactly the kind of authentic experience every Morocco visitor should seek out (contact info below).

I noticed a sign that offered hammam services, and with a free night coming up, I was determined to experience a traditional Moroccan bath, even it if wasn’t at this hotel.

Welcome to Halloween, Morocco-style

Halloween brought our journey from Fez to Casablanca with a stop in Meknes. This drive? Pure torture. Curvy, winding, bumpy roads designed to test every ounce of motion-sickness resistance I possessed. I hung on by a thread while the bus hit bumps that made everyone scream. Those with wine bottles in their luggage sweated profusely.

My far-back seat assignment over the wheels turned the journey into my personal Drake Passage practice run for Antarctica. Not. Good. Gate 1 Travel needs better warnings about these drives so people can plan accordingly, proper shoes, trekking poles, sun protection, water. A rating system for physical difficulty would help immensely. I will be sure to add that to my survey comments.

The countryside rolled by olive trees, dust, sheep with shepherds, overloaded vans that looked like their tires would pop, rundown towns with crowds of people sitting outside small shops and cafes. Something I noticed everywhere we went, oddly no women were ever sitting at these cafes. So I looked it up. Apparently because these spaces were historically considered male domains due to cultural norms, traditions, and a history of gender segregation in public life. While women are not strictly forbidden, they historically and culturally tend to prefer modern, mixed-company cafes or gather in other settings like homes for social activities.

A strange haze hung over everything.

Volubilis: Roman Ruins in the Blazing Sun

We arrived at the Roman ruins around 10:30 AM to bright, unforgiving sunshine. We stepped back nearly 2,000 years at Volubilis, the ancient Roman city that still stands proud among rolling green hills. Wandering through its wide stone streets felt like paging through a living history book, only with better weather and far more interesting ruins. The mosaics, somehow still vivid after centuries of sun and storms, told stories of gods, myths, and everyday life. Columns reached toward the sky like they were trying to remember their former height, and the archway framed a horizon that made you pause longer than you meant to. Volubilis isn’t just impressive, it’s humbling. It reminds you that travelers have been passing through these lands long before guidebooks or Google Maps ever existed.

However, everything sits completely exposed, no shade anywhere unless in the shadow of a column. I had a hat but nothing on my arms, and the gravel terrain proved more strenuous than expected. Tour companies really need to prepare people better: bring water (which the bus helper apparently forgot to distribute), wear serious sun protection, expect difficult walking conditions, and if you need a trekking pole, bring it! Mine were sadly packed.

The ruins themselves were fascinating, but the conditions tested everyone, especially the five or ten people who were seriously ill that day. They should have been allowed to sit in the front area of the bus as requested, not banished to the back where every bump amplifies the misery. People don’t want to be miserable on their vacations.

We moved on the Meknes, where we had lunch at a restaurant with primarily American fare on their menu – so I tried their burger. 2/10. Fries 7/10.

Next stop: Casablanca

Our hotel here was very grand, with a room like none I’d had thus far (think the bathroom sink and shower in the main room), overlooking the terribly busy street. There was a large party from the US here for a “destination wedding” and a corporate gathering from a US Pharmaceutical company! The lobby area and bar were bustling with activity.

That evening a small group of us ventured out to find the local supermarket, arguing over the directions we’d been given and ignoring Google Maps. Ultimately we did find a store and I got… you guessed it, cheese and wine! The residents of Casablanca are crazy drivers who honk their horns well into the wee hours.

In the morning, we made our way to the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca, a masterpiece that shows exactly what happens when faith, craftsmanship, and ambition join forces. Built between 1986 and 1993 under King Hassan II, it was intended to be a prominent landmark for Casablanca, a symbol of Moroccan culture, and a grand religious site. It was also seen as a tool to project his political legitimacy. A notable feature is that it is built on an artificial platform perched right at the edge of the Atlantic, and looks as though it’s floating on the sea, which honestly, your brain needs a minute to process its scale. The Mosque can hold up to 105,000 worshippers, with a 25,000 capacity inside and 80,000 on the esplanade.

Although it was a hazy morning, the minaret soared high, the marble glowed, and the hand-carved cedar ceilings stretched out like a work of art you could stare at all day. Even from the outside, the place radiates peace and presence. This is one of those moments where you just stop talking, because anything you say feels too small. I covered my head with a scarf out of respect (not required), we went inside, removed our shoes, and viewed the beauty that surrounded us. It was truly magical.

And then… Rick’s Café. Yes, that Rick’s. We swung by for the photo op, and let’s just say the magic of Casablanca lives mostly in Hollywood. From the outside, it’s small, cute even, but it’s more of a wink to movie lovers than an actual cinematic moment. A crowd surrounded the doorway, and I chose to forego the photo. Still, there was something fun about pretending for half a second that Bogart might walk out, cigarette in hand, muttering something philosophical about the problems of the world.

The Camel Adventure

The big question: Would we make our desert camel ride after the long drive from Casablanca to Marrakesh? By the skin of our teeth, we did! Better yet, after a lot of confusion, conversations in English and Arabic, we scored a private driver instead of being stuffed into one of the hundred vans crowding the desert staging area. That turned out to be a major win.

The desert was spectacular. The camel ride? An absolute hoot! I screamed when my camel stood up and that lurching motion was terrifying! I loved every single minute. Riding a camel was something quintessential about visiting Morocco and in my mind, representative of my trip.

We visited a small argan oil cooperative for a demonstration, then headed to a desert camp where they served excellent food in traditional tagines. A small fire show and live music topped off the evening. Bunny, a 78-year-old tour mate who'd broken her leg just a year ago, got up and danced with the performers, joined by another tour mate, Jeanette, out of solidarity. My other tour friends Erick and Barbara (Bunny’s travel partner) laughed and clapped along.

Marrakesh: Markets and Madness

Time for a walking tour through part of the Medina. We saw the Tower of Kutubia is the 77-meter-tall minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque in Marrakech, Morocco, which is an iconic landmark of the city. We also visited Bahia Palace, which was first begun by Si Musa, grand vizier under the Alawi sultan Muhammad ibn Abd al-Rahman, in the 1860s, it featured some nice gardens, and historical architecture. The carved wood deserved hours of intense concentration alone.

From there we walked to a lovely café for tea. On a busy side street near Bahia, you could have walked right by not realizing the treasure inside. We enjoyed delicious mint tea, and some sweets while we celebrated a wedding anniversary of a couple on our tour. Earlier we had seen a guy on the sidewalk with a giant silver urn. It turns out it was spiced coffee, and we were able to enjoy that here as well.

After some additional sightseeing, including a near miss with a scooter, it was time to return to the tower and meet up with my Greeter guide, Abla for a brand collaboration. I have been a supporter of this woman owned company for the past few years, and when they knew I would be there, we arranged a private tour. We had a fantastic time exploring the souk and Medina while a photographer and videographer documented our adventures.

The main square delivered pure chaos: snake charmers swaying to their flutes, and brace yourself, a guy sitting at a card table displaying dentures and a bucket of loose teeth, armed with two pairs of pliers. Apparently, if you have a bad tooth, you come to the square where this street dentist will yank it out for a fee. Abla told me that on busy days, teeth literally litter the ground around his table. I cannot unsee this image.

Remember that Hamman?

Back in Fez I was interested in Hamman. Well, I was determined to experience a traditional Moroccan bath, even if it meant venturing out on my only free evening.

Google Maps confidently told me it was an 8-minute trip. Simple enough, right? Wrong. Thirty-five minutes later, I'm still in the cab, and the driver keeps turning around asking, "Which way? You know? Left? Right?" I'm basically navigating using my phone while he's driving, holding up the map like I'm his personal GPS system, not exactly the relaxing prelude to a hammam experience I'd been hoping for.

Then comes the grand finale of this comedy of errors: he drops me off at the wrong hammam. Of course he does. Back into another cab I go, because at this point, what's another cab ride?

And the experience itself? It doesn't quite redeem the journey. It's just... okay. Not terrible, but not the luxurious, rejuvenating escape I'd been imagining making up for the transportation nightmare. But hey, I can say I experienced a hammam!

Essaouira: Coastal Winds and Carrot Soup

The countryside continued its pattern of contrasts: tiny towns with cafés, milling crowds, stray dogs, cats, donkeys, abandoned cars, then suddenly pristine new buildings, earthquake reconstruction from three years prior.

Our rest stop resembled a Moroccan Buc-ee's (minus the cleanliness obsession). They handed out paper squares for the bathroom, and I was grateful every toilet was Western style, not a squatty potty as I had seen a few places. The shop staff was lovely, offering tea and reasonably priced souvenirs. Many of us enjoyed mint tea before continuing to the coast.

Another Argan oil cooperative visit followed (apparently mandatory on all Morocco tours), then we explored the coastal town. The fortress provided stunning photo opportunities despite ferocious winds that kept blowing my buckled hat off. The scenery was quite picturesque though and worth battling the “breeze”.

With two hours of free time, I found an adorable café serving carrot-lentil-ginger soup and strong ginger-lemon tea—almost too strong, but perfect for my sniffles. Yes, one of the other tour participants, sitting in front of me on the bus, shared their cooties, and now I was dealing with congestion, runny nose, and sore throat. A local pharmacy provided lozenges and nasal spray of questionable efficacy. Note: please don’t go on your tour if you know that you are sick. She obviously was sick beforehand.

I continued photographing both the gross and the gorgeous around town. When nature called, one restaurant refused me bathroom access despite my offer of two dollars in dirhams. They finally relented after making me buy a tiny espresso for that same $2. Bizarre.

Back to Marrakesh: One Last Hurrah

Still a bit under the weather but determined and masked up to make sure I didn’t infect others, I attended our farewell dinner, easily one of the best meals of the trip. Perfectly prepared chicken in sauce with mushroom and truffle mashed potatoes, an outstanding salmon carpaccio starter, and good wine!

A few people finally warmed up to the idea of my photo circle and social media sharing and asked me for the link I created specifically for this group.

But here's the real magic: This was my 5th Gate 1 tour as a solo. One of the best parts of Gate 1 tours? The people. Holly and Key (fellow cat lovers!), Barbara and Bunny (proof that adventure has no age limit), Enrique and Kristen (a Costco love story, yes, really!), my friend Erick, a true Southern gent I met on a previous tour, Tony and Manda, Melissa and Mark (celebrating 40 years of marriage) Jeanette, Dori Zori and her crew, and so many more incredible travelers (sorry that I don’t recall all the names).

These connections transform a trip into something unforgettable. You're not just seeing Morocco, you're experiencing it with people who become your travel family, creating a network of friendships that often continue long after you're home.

We all had a lovely time, expressing our gratitude to our gracious tour guide, Aazeddine, with plenty of hugs to go around.

It was a wonderful tour filled with some great memories.

Next stop: London using Ryanair: The City Bus of the Sky

My final morning brought me by taxi to Marrakesh airport, where we passed one of the roadside fatalities Aazeddine had mentioned—a sobering reminder. I nervously checked in with Ryanair, certain my bags would be overweight, but somehow squeaked through. My next stop, the World Travel Market in London, a place that I had grown to love.

Ryanair's boarding process is an adventure unto itself. They herded priority boarding passengers outside, made us watch the previous flight's passengers deplane and board buses, then bused us 100 yards to the plane where "priority" became meaningless in the ensuing chaotic situation. But they were on time and landed at Stansted early, so I'll take it. The city bus of the sky delivered.

Final Thoughts

Would I return to Morocco? Likely. The Blue City (Chefchaouen) and more time in Marrakesh both intrigue me. But my travel list is so long, and there are so many places I haven't seen yet that it's hard to justify returning when new adventures beckon.

Morocco was beautiful, frustrating, fascinating, dirty, elegant, chaotic, and utterly unforgettable. The contrasts defined the experience: opulent hotels with mildew, pristine streets beside trash-strewn roads, warm hospitality alongside street dentists, ancient medinas and modern construction. It's a country in transition, holding tight to tradition while reaching for modernity, and somehow, that's exactly what makes it worth experiencing.

Just maybe pack some extra stomach medication, bring that trekking pole, and prepare yourself for roads that test your motion-sickness limits. Morocco doesn't coddle tourists, it challenges them, rewards them, and sends them home with stories they'll tell for years.

NOTE: A visual story will be shared on my YouTube Channel in January 2025. Be sure to subscribe!