Morocco

So far removed from anything else I had ever experienced, Morocco opened my eyes to cultural differences and the reality of poverty.
My first holiday which didn’t involve a resort, beach, nightclub, alcohol and short skirts, I was apprehensive about this foray into the unknown.
When we arrived in Marrakesh, the noises, smells and sights overwhelmed us. Sensory overdrive. So much to see and be aware of.
Myself and my friend, two women, one with a bright pink suitcase and the other with a backpack, attracted lots of attention. From then on we were known as Fatima and Aisha.
The beauty of the town, the people, the riyads we stayed in, the tagines we ate, the mint tea I consumed by the gallon; I fell in love more and more every day. The people were poor and we were surrounded on many occasions by children asking for money, but there was a friendliness and welcome that enriched our days there.

The souks, the medinas, our stay in Essaouira, camel rides, tour into the Sahara desert and night in a tent under the brilliant stars with the Berbers, every day was magic and I wanted to cling on to the thrill.

I was on a high for many weeks after my holiday and was overawed by all that I had seen and done.
The film Hideous Kinky provided a fix when I missed the drama and beauty of Morocco.
I love to read when I’m on holiday and I finished four excellent books in 12 days: Life of Pi, Lovely Bones, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, Around the World in 80 Dates. As well as devouring the Morocco guide books and boring my friend with all the useless facts and figures.
I will return, hopefully with my husband one day.