Blogs and Other Things

Tuesday, March 4, 2025 –

Oh, you’re back!

Hello.

Today is Monday and a holiday in Spain (the date above is lying), which gave me an extra day to travel; however, it also forced me to initially plan to postpone the blog to Wednesday.

That said, I’ve got 3 hours until my flight.

So strap in.

.

Thursday

Before I begin, I learned a few things about Morocco this weekend that feel important enough to share:

1. Moroccan drivers are allergic to lane markers (and are arguably the best drivers on the planet).
2. Moroccan mint tea can cure cancer (or at least tastes like it).
3. Nobody wears shorts.

That’s basically it.

.

As always, the trip started off strong with a walk through the pigeons, and it only went up from there.

(Nice little plane joke if anyone caught that)

Speaking of pigeons, the trip got even better when I touched down.

.

The lads joined (lads being my roommates Mitch and Sahil, who were both wearing men’s sunglasses, so you definitely shouldn’t look closer to see if I’m lying).

All jokes aside, it was great to see them. I was excited to be exploring a new country with a group – and an itinerary – for once (which I played no part in planning, so shoutout to the boys for that).

First on the docket was exploring Marrakesh (the city where we stayed), which was Sahil’s suggestion; he thought it would be more of a cultural experience than somewhere else in Europe.

And he was right.

As soon as we got off the bus from the airport, we went straight to Jemaa el-Fna, a market/square in the heart of the city. Apart from (literally) everything, the first cultural difference I saw was a monkey, and the second was a cobra, which, as far as I’m aware, don’t roam the streets of Ontario.

But maybe I’m just ignorant.

Regardless, on the bus, Sahil found a botanical garden called Le Jardin Secret, so we walked in that general direction as we traversed the Moroccan streets.

.

One thing I should mention: if you’re ever in Morocco, it helps if you know how to haggle.

Well, actually, it’s essential.

Apart from food, nothing you buy will have a fixed price, despite what the vendor tells you.

And they can smell tourists from a mile away.

But enough said; the garden was magic.

.

It even helped the boys reconnect with their roots.

.

I don’t know what you’re laughing at.

Anyway.

Afterwards, we headed back to check into our Airbnb, which ended up taking a hilariously long time because mine and Sahil’s phones were dead, and Mitch didn’t have data.

But we talked to some locals (thankfully my brain still remembered French), who graciously let us use their charger, and we eventually found our way there.

Oh, yeah, Morocco’s second language is French.

As much as I hate colonization, its ramifications made communication a whole lot easier (he says nervously).

Anyway, we found the place, dropped our stuff off, and immediately headed back out; the city at night was a blur (literally, you can barely see the photos).

.

We also made friends with a 5 year-old Moroccan girl (and her mom and grandmother) as we waited for a bus that never came, and by the end of the night, Mitch was in full dad mode.

I’ll admit, I was a little distracted by the best lamb I’ve ever eaten in my life, which, of course, I completely forgot to photograph.

But when Mitch is in his element, it’s a show worth watching.

.

And that was Thursday.

.

Friday

We had an early morning Friday as we’d booked a tour of Ouzoud Waterfalls (about 3 hours from Marrakesh), which may have been my favourite part of the entire trip.

It started off grey and rainy (Africa beating the allegations), which was a bit annoying but didn’t seem to affect anyone’s moods; it’s easy to let stuff go when you’re on vacation.

Especially when this is your view.

.

Plus, for the sake of my Canadian readers, I thought it might be good if all my trips weren’t purely sunshine and rainbows.

❤

(But then it was, sorry)

An hour later, the sun came out, the sky blued, and Sahil fed a monkey.

.

I should also mention, there were two other groups on the tour with us: one was a Greek couple from Athens, and the other was a French grandfather with his two granddaughters.

Naturally, I fell in love with the only girl who wasn’t single.

Seems to be my type.

Anywho.

As I was lost in thought considering the logistics of moving to Athens and duelling her boyfriend (if that’s still a thing), Sahil reminded me to take a photo of my meal (before I even took a bite).

What a pro.

.

From there, the lamb made me forget the duel.

But I would never forget her.

Anyway.

We also learned about the indigenous Moroccan process of developing and creating argan oil, which was eye-opening. Moroccan farmers have 2 certifications that distinguish their process in terms of making the most pure argan oil on the planet, as the women still use traditional, hand-crafted methods that machines simply can’t replicate.

.

Honestly, I would strongly recommend this tour, despite my frequent aversion to tourist attractions. It was nice to be an actual tourist; you don’t always have to blend in with your surroundings, and it feels oddly safe to stand out when you’re in the middle of nowhere.

Speaking of which, here’s a few final photos that stood out to me in their own right.

.

And that was Friday.

.

Saturday

Saturday was another early start, but it could not have been more worth it.

Have you ever heard of a quad bike?

You have?

But do you know what it is?

You do?

Oh.

Well I had a bit of a different experience.

You see, I thought it was going to be something like this.

.

But apparently, I was very wrong; as it turns out, it’s actually this.

.

So after I was deservedly laughed at, we headed out to rip through the desert.

.

For the most part, we were just driving (which was ideal), but we also got a couple moments to take a break, which allowed us to see some camels and drink more mint tea under what I’d best describe as a desert gazebo.

.

And then, unfortunately, the boys headed home.

They’d already been in Europe for a week, so it made sense they had to go back given they’re real adults with real jobs.

(Or losers, one might say)

Regardless, I was back to riding solo with just over 24 hours to kill before my flight Sunday night.

But I had a plan.

Friday night, I made the split-second decision to ditch my last night in Marrakesh on Saturday and take a 4.5 hour bus ride to Aït Benhaddou, a desert village where Christopher Nolan is currently filming his next movie, The Odyssey.

If you know anything about me, you’ll know that Christopher Nolan is arguably my favourite director (along with Denis Villeneuve) and that I love his movies more than my future wife (just kidding, honey).

And yet, when we booked the trip to Marrakesh, I had no idea he was filming in Morocco at the time (I’d read that filming wasn’t supposed to start until spring).

But when I saw he was in the country, I took it as a sign.

Never again would I find myself this close to a Christopher Nolan set, much less in such a remote area, so I knew I had to go.

And I went.

.

The bus ride was incredibly mountainous, which wasn’t great for motion sickness, but the views made up for it. My phone camera won’t do them justice, but Morocco’s Atlas Mountains truly are a sight to behold.

.

On the bus, I met a Moroccan guy who, funnily enough, is an avid film enthusiast currently making a documentary about Moroccan desert nomads and how they survive.

If nothing else, it was enlightening.

When he asked, I told him the reason for my trip and my plan to get there, which was to ask the driver to drop me off in a town about 9 kilometres from Aït Benhaddou, where I would get out and attempt to find a taxi, and if I couldn’t, then I would walk.

For context: the bus wasn’t actually going to Aït Benhaddou (no buses go there), so this was my next best option.

My new friend didn’t like my idea very much; he thought it’d be a bit dangerous for me to walk 10 kilometres through the foreign Moroccan desert in the dark, when wild dogs are at their hungriest.

Which was fair.

But I’m stubborn.

So after we talked for a while longer, I convinced him.

He told me he initially thought I was a less experienced tourist, but after hearing where I’d gone in the past month, he actually seemed to think I’d be fine (and I was genuinely convinced I would be).

this dumbass

Anywho, it didn’t matter: the bus driver said no.

Which, again, was probably fair.

So, instead of going to Aït Benhaddou, I was going to Ouarzazate (a bigger city 30 minutes away), where my friend thought I’d have a hard time finding a taxi and suggested I try to get a hotel there for the night.

Funny side note, he also mentioned that the actors and film crew normally stay in Ouarzazate while they’re filming in the area (Ouarzazate seems to be Morocco’s film hotspot); thus, depending on how big the city was, I actually considered staying there to look for any traces of Nolan, the cast or the sets.

But the city was bigger than I expected.

So it was back to Plan A (or C, at this point).

In Ouarzazate, I managed to find a taxi pickup area, and there were a couple of drivers standing around, but no one seemed to want to drive 30 minutes at that time of night (it was 9 at this point).

I started more or less begging one of them to drive me, initially to no avail. He told me if it was earlier in the day then he could have, so I told him that my flight didn’t get in until 4, though he didn’t seem to care at all (which was fair enough considering I was completely lying).

Then, another guy who overheard our conversation told me he’d do it for 200 Dirham (Moroccan currency), which would equate to about 80 bucks Canadian. I told him I didn’t have that much (I had 900) but that I could pay him 100, and we settled on 150.

Crisis averted.

…

Well, almost.

My taxi driver dropped me off in the middle of the village, so I checked my Airbnb app for the location of where I was staying.

But the location on the app was across a river.

(And, as I later found out, was also completely wrong)

I don’t really want to relive it, so I won’t say too much, but here’s a brief play-by-play of the (kind of scary) hilarity that happened after I got dropped off (and before my host decided to answer his phone):

It was very dark (the stars were beautiful).

.

I hit a dead-end.

.

I turned back.

.

I fell off a roof (without realizing I was on one).

Then fell in a swamp.

Ran into some dogs.

Then found the bridge (and crossed it).

Reached the location on the app.

Building was abandoned.

Knocked on some doors.

Heard loud barking.

Ran away.

Crossed the bridge (again).

Host finally answered his phone.

Ran back up to main street (where I was at the start).

Host picked me up in his car.

I slept.

.

And that was Saturday.

.

Sunday

Sunday was a travel day.

After the night before, I was ready to just get back to civilized society.

That said, I didn’t forget why I was there.

For one, the morning view from the roof of my Airbnb was a dream.

.

Regarding the movie, I was well-aware when I made the trip that Sundays are often rest days on movie sets, so I wasn’t expecting to see any active filming be done.

Funnily enough, I also think my Airbnb was across the river from the actual set.

So the night before, if I’d been able to see, I probably would’ve realized I was in the right place.

(For the nerd in me, at least)

Anyway.

In my taxi on the way back to Ouarzazate, two things caught my eye that were definitely movie-related. One was this helicopter (because why on Earth would there be a helicopter in Aït Benhaddou).

.

And the other was something I didn’t get a photo of (Moroccan taxis are speedy), but it was this big machine with an arm that I’ve seen cinematographers use.

So that was epic.

Of course, it would’ve been awesome to see something in action, but I knew what I signed up for, and I would’ve regretted not going if I didn’t.

.

And that was Sunday.

.

Monday

Lisbon.

I got to Lisbon Sunday night, and spent half of Monday exploring as much as I could.

.

The only comment I have about Lisbon is that people who snore should not be allowed in hostels.

Other than that, I loved it.

.

As you can tell, this weekend never slowed down, and while I’m excited to head back to Barcelona, I think I’m more excited for the shower that’ll come with it.

Also, as I mentioned, I’m writing this on Monday, March 3rd; if my math is correct (don’t hold your breath), I fly home in exactly one month.

Well, to Manchester first, then home.

And that’s crazy; I could swear I just got here.

But that’s life, I guess.

Today’s been a bit of a full circle moment. Lisbon was where I initially flew in, and it’s been interesting walking through that same airport with an entirely different mindset; I’m no longer nervous, nor am I starving, though I do still speak the same amount of Portuguese.

But it’s a start.

For better or worse, I think time will start to slow down as I anticipate my journey home. If I’m honest, I’m excited to come home; while Europe has been a blast, there is definitely a loneliness that comes with travelling solo, especially when you feel as connected to your home as I do.

But I’m not crying in the club; I wouldn’t change a thing.

This experience has taught me more in 2 months than I feel like I’ve learned in 22 years, and I doubt the last month will be any different.

Speaking of which, I plan on doing (at least) one more plane trip in the final month (but hopefully two), in addition to smaller day trips in and around Barcelona.

While I don’t want to spoil everything, I have an Italian craving that may need to be satisfied.

And I’m not just talking about the pizza.

(They have gelato, too)

See you next week.