Peppermint tea in Morocco

I packed the essentials in my backpack and followed my new friend whom I’ve met on the plane from Venice to Lyon. He’s Moroccan but lives and works in Lyon and was a really nice to talk to, even though he says English is not his favourite language. The majority of Moroccans speak French, which is the legacy of the colonial past of this sunny north-western African country. He invited me home, which I – despite initial shyness and caution – could not resist. And at least in the beginning I found all the warnings about pushy locals to be slightly exaggerated. As his sister drove past the colourful houses of many shapes and sizes, the atmosphere was really cosy and we saw many children playing football on the street. I knew I chose a great destination to get away from the cold and icy roads back home. The houses in Morocco are simple on the outside and packed together, but each and every one has carved metal designs on windows or doors. Upon entering you are usually surprised by the luxury and comfort. My new friend and his family took me in and while not understanding their language as they cheerfully exchanged recent news I was just quietly nibbling on nuts, homemade chocolate cookies and sipped peppermint tea.

After this nice experience of a family home I was struck with the reality of the city when I got to the Marrakesh downtown. The city is overcrowded with people, hidden passages, dirty streets, street vendors and magicians with monkeys and snakes. The chaos of the famous main square Jemaa El-Fnaa is truly a unique experience. Luckily I was accompanied by a local, otherwise I don’t know how I’d find the hidden hostel in the labyrinth of streets, jam packed with shops and various transportation devices – from horses to motorbikes and all sorts of buggies. The noise, heat and constant bumping into people makes you lose the sense of direction. And that’s when everybody around you suddenly want to help – for a price off course. If you’re as naïve as I am, you’d never expect somebody would want payment for a few words and pointing you into the right direction. My first lesson on my first day in Marrakesh was not to accept help from the locals too quickly or look them in the eyes.

Next I went to see the famous spots, from the Menara Garden, Majorelle Garden of the famous designer Yves Saint Laurent, to the palaces hidden among the many streets of the sunny Marrakesh. Trying to find the right way my fellow traveller and I were often led through streets by young Moroccans, who were obviously in cahoots with shop owners where we eventually ended up. They started to explain to us how good their products were and we bought things like natural lipstick and solid perfume. After the hectic Marrakesh we continued our trip to the desert – a small village of Tagounite on the edge of the desert, where you got a feeling the time stood still. We slept in a typical casaba and on the next day joined our tour guide in a tiny car of indistinctive age, with a shift stick made up of a pen and duct tape. Through the open window I could smell the dry air of the desert stretching all over the horizon. Soon we reached the desert camp with tents put up for socializing and sleeping. There were two camels nearby that were laying on the ground, looking relaxed and not bothered by the handful of visitors. We had a view of the dunes – and in the very next moment we took our shoes off and started giggling and running in the sand. While we were going over the dunes of orange sand, the sun was slowly coming out of sight, painting the skies in various beautiful shades. We sat down on one of the dunes just staring in the distance – overwhelmed by the peace and silence you can only find in the desert. Back at the tents dinner was awaiting – the famous harira, a typical Moroccan soup made of chickpeas and lentils, and tajine, a dish made of potatoes, vegetables, meat and spices, but cooked in a special shaped pot. We ended the night with singing around the bonfire, drinking peppermint tea and watching the numerous bright stars you can’t see anywhere else. We were counting shooting stars and were mesmerized by the night sky which made the evening really magical and unforgettable.

After the adventure in the desert we drove to Essaouira – a beautiful coastal town full of artists and fishermen, where also the famous Jimmy Hendrix spent some of his time. Here you’ll find musical festivals, surfing schools, painters, craftsmen, delicious restaurants and gorgeous views. You really need to see the fishermen’s docks and the old city wall, where you can watch the sunset together with the birds. We met a French couple in the autumn of their lives, who decided to spend their retirement on the sunny shores. They offered a spare room to us and we’ve spent many evening cooking French-Moroccan dinners together. It’s incredible how strangers can form connections. After a relaxing stay at the Atlantic coast we went to the famous city of Casablanca, where they mostly speak French and where you can only get glimpse of Moroccan culture on the menus and through the prayer calls from the mosques. We stood there at the sight of the seventh largest mosque in the World, the mosque of King Hassan II. With its size the mosque stands strong against the waves and winds of the Atlantic Ocean. The minaret of the mosque is the tallest in the world, boasting with glass floor, where believers can watch the breaking of the waves on the shore. Also it features a roof that can open in the warm summer days. It’s a true architectural marble. Slowly I’m saying my farewells to the land of the best oranges in the world, where you can never get cold. Thank you Morocco for all the people I’ve met along the way and delicious dinners. I’ll always have the taste of peppermint.