Morocco

September 2025

Marrakech 

We began our trip with two days in Marrakech. 

We arrived on Sunday evening and took the bus into the medina, Marrakech’s old town. Before we got off the bus, we were struck by the sheer number of people outside. As we saw during our stay, the medina comes to life after the heat of the day has subsided. We joined the swell moving in every which direction and picked our way through to our riad.

As was common throughout Marrakech, the street’s chaos dissipated as we entered the riad. Inside, sat in the open air terrace with tea and Moroccan pastries, it was hard to connect the bustle of the streets with the peaceful stillness.

We shortly ventured back out, heading to Le Grand Bazar for our first tagine. With zaalouk for a starter (an aubergine dip) and a tagine each, we had definitely over ordered. Mental note made.

We spent our first day wandering the souks and visiting key sightseeing spots. We visited Le Jardin Secret made up of two gardens, the Exotic Garden and the Islamic Garden, and went up the tower where the tour guide identified landmarks. We were struck by how flat the city was. The guide explained that the city had to expand outwards instead of upwards as no one was allowed to build higher than the mosque.

Afterwards, we wandered the local area and had a cup of mint tea before heading to the Palace of Bahia. Unfortunately, much of the Palace was under construction but we still saw incredible carvings and mosaics. With a quick bite to eat, we headed back to the riad to recharge. That evening, not particularly hungry after our late lunch, we watched the sunset over Jemaa el-Fna and continued wandering the markets until exhausted.

The next morning was an early one: 4:30am. 

Lugging ourselves out of bed and down the road, we piled into a minibus full of bleary eyed tourists and tried to get back to sleep. 

We stopped on a wide empty plain with a couple of buildings and large tents. Under these tents we had our first breakfast of the day: coffee and a croissant before returning to our bus.

Back in the bus and the second time we stopped, it was in front of a huge yellow hot air balloon that was slowly inflating. Tourists came to life, passing phones around to capture photos before the ride. 

The ride was incredible with the view of the sun rising over the Atlas Mountains. We flew for around 45 minutes and ranged between 300 and 350 metres as this was where the wind current we needed was. We flew 6km by land at around 10-12km/hr. Our pilot, a 19 year old who routinely lied about his age until he’d landed his balloon safely so as not to worry his tourists, landed us smoothly and we were carted off for our second breakfast including cous cous cakes, donuts, and tea.

We got back to Marrakech at around 9:45 and headed straight back to our riad to get a third breakfast, determined to maximise on free food. Later that morning, we headed to the photography museum. The museum was interesting. As most of the photos had been taken by northern European travellers, they showed Moroccan history but from an invariably biased perspective. For instance, very few photos were taken inside, suggesting Morocco to be a more nomadic culture than was accurate. We spent the afternoon at the music museum, trying to keep our energy up on minimal sleep.

Feeling accomplished with two museums complete, we headed back to the riad to relax before dinner. 

For our last night in Marrakech, we headed to Le Pegola, a restaurant catering to tourists with live jazz music. Sharing the “Moroccan Tapas XXL”, we ate delicious hummus, aubergine, lentils, and various grilled meats. 

Ait Bouguemez: the Happy Valley 

Leaving Marrakech had sounded quite straightforward but finding the collective taxi rank alone proved a challenge. Having left the riad bright and early, full of yoghurt and bread, we spent two hours getting contradicting answers as to whether we could get a shared taxi to Azilal. With neither of us speaking French or Arabic, we resigned to sitting tight and hoping for the best. 

The best pulled through and we found ourselves feeling quite unwell winding through mountain roads in a car devoid of suspension. Arriving in Azilal, we had a similar strained and confused conversation as to our next taxi before again, resigning to sit tight and wait. We arrived in Ait Bougoumez at 2:30pm and, having lost all service a while ago, wandered up the street hoping our guide would spring out at us. 

“Kate?” – a man called out of a car window. Relieved we smiled and introduced ourselves. It was Rachid, our guide for the next 2.5 days. He took us for a drink at a local cafe and then for lunch. Unfortunately, everyone has finished their tagine for the day so a sandwich sufficed. 

Rachid took us to our hotel, a beautiful riad in the mountains with a pool and several terraces full of sofas and sun shades. We were the only guests. 

After tea (of course) and nuts from the valley, we walked up to a viewpoint with an old fortress on top. 

Rachid explained that the valley was surrounded by four mountain peaks and was home to Imazighen people who isolated themselves in the mountains when the Arabs had arrived. 

The fort on the hill had been built as a food store and a lookout point and had been used as such until 150 years ago. It belonged to a village in the valley and each family owned a small room within it to store their goods. On top were four lookout towers which would all be manned, ensuring the village had eyes in every direction. 

When the wars between the villages subsided, a holy man, the musa, was buried in the old fort. From then on, women wishing for marriage or fertility would come and receive a blessing there. 

Now, as a UNESCO site, the building has been made into a tiny museum showcasing traditional farming and domestic tools. We visited the grave room and lookout, and had another cup of tea. 

We descended as the sun set over the valley, casting a pink glow across the mountains. 

Lamb tagine and collapsing in bed. 

The next morning we enjoyed a lie in until 8:30.

Today, Rachid was taking us on a long hike through the valley. 

After breakfast, we began our walk through apple orchards, the main crop of the valley. We climbed 350m to a ridge before skirting down some less than manicured paths on the other side. At the bottom of the descent and with a singular signpost were huge dinosaur tracks. There was no entrance fee, just dinosaur footprints casually dotted on the edge of a small village in the valley. 

We made our way a little further before breaking under a walnut tree (another major crop) for our packed lunch: jacket potatoes, tomatoes, cucumber, tuna, cheese, and fresh apples Rachid had picked off someone’s tree. 

We walked back beside the Santa, the central part of the valley where the local authorities were officed. We stopped for an orange juice before completing the final stretch back home. Hot, dusty, ready for a shower and a swim. 

After dinner, goat tagine, we tried the hotel’s hamman – a traditional Moroccan bath. After our day’s hike, a steam room with a homemade black soap was perfect. We went to bed feeling clean and extremely relaxed. 

Ait Benhaddou 

Our onward journey began three hours behind schedule. Despite Rachid’s best efforts, collective taxis depend on six people travelling in the same direction at the same time. After waiting until almost noon, we bit the bullet and paid for the remaining four seats, essentially taking a private taxi to Kalaat M’gouna. 

Our frustration dissipated as we enjoyed our private drive through the Rose Valley. Our driver was extremely enthusiastic, pausing for us to take photos or offering handfuls of green figs off someone’s trees. The landscape was beautiful with smooth yellow basins, bordered by knobbled mountains. Lime green farmlands lurched seemingly out of nowhere. It might of even exceeded the views of Ait Bouguemez. 

From Kalaat M’gouna, we waited again before going on to Ouarzazate and from there Ait Benhaddou. Exhausted, we welcomed the dinner offered in the hotel, served on the terrace with a picturesque view of the Kasbah.

The Kasbah is a fortress built into the side of a hill. Beyond its impressive architecture, it has been a location in numerous films, consequently drawing tourists to the area. 

After breakfast, we wandered over to it and, paying the unofficial ticket price on the door, began exploring dark staircases, buildings in various stages of upkeep, and bright terraces/lookouts. Once we got further in, the streets became full of vendors selling souvenirs. Many had extensive lists of films that had been filmed in the Kasbah which we took with a pinch of salt. 

We made our way to the grain store on top of the hill only to find it was shut following earthquake damage.

We spent the afternoon relaxing in the pool before dinner of cous cous with vegetables and grilled chicken. 

Essaouira

Then, the next morning, we were on the move again. Unlike our tediously slow last trip, collective taxis were on our side that day. Straight back to Ouarzazate and then onto Marrakech where we waited for 30 minutes before leaving for Essaouira. 

We arrived early evening and we were greatly in need of a shower, a quick dinner followed by tiramisu (non-negotiable), and bed. 

Like the medina in Marrakech, Essaouira was filled with tempting souks. However, we found the vendors much less insistent and direct. 

After crepes bigger than our heads, we wandered through the souk and port towards the beach. Although the weather was only mid-twenties, I went for a swim. Billy did not. After we were suitably coated in sand (unfortunate combination of strong wind and fine sand), we headed back to our Airbnb. That evening we had fish soup, Moroccan samosas, and an interesting chicken pastilla, consisting of chicken, honey, and almonds in pastry covered in cinnamon and icing sugar. Sugared chicken was a first for both of us – more Billy’s thing than mine. 

Essaouira is a city dripping in cats. Lining every street, draped across vendors’ wares, and shamelessly spread across shop doorways, tourists pick their way around. Despite being strays, locals put out dried food and bowls of water. 

On our final full day, we enjoyed the cats and shopped hard. Shop after shop of ceramics was certainly more my thing than Billy’s. Presents for ourselves and others bought, we picked a fancy final restaurant: a blend Moroccan and European cuisine. 

Then, it was time to go – our final collective taxi negotiation and a Ryanair cabin bag debacle later, we were on our flight home.