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Shares
As I descend the plane I cant help but smile as I’m hit with the warm, sweet heavenly Moroccan air. Just a few hours ago I was engulfed in the dreary and soggy Northern Ireland weather. I eagerly throw on my backpack and stroll through the crowds of conflicting couples. The best thing about travelling alone is no negotiations and arguments. Mind you, I do get a few odd glances, maybe it’s the skip in my step as I glide around the airport or the fact that a young 5ft nothing blonde girl is travelling alone, to Morocco of all places! Groups of statue-like people are lingering at the exit doors looking as though they are deers caught in the headlights. It is evident they are wondering which of the hordes of taxi drivers fighting for their attention should escort them to their hotel. See, I was one step ahead, I carried out my research prior to departure and knew that instead of paying €22 for a taxi there was a €2 bus at the top of the airport car park. “Fail to prepare and prepare to fail” I mutter to myself as I begin my peregrination. The journey to market square was pleasant and after roaming through a maze of snake like alleyways I find my Riad. Inside it’s quint and homely, with zellige walls and a few pieces of carved dark wood furniture. Mohammad, the owner, gave me the keys to my cell-like room, as we confirm the details of pre-booked excursions. I offloaded my bag into my cell and wandered into the hustle and bustle of the market square in search for some Moroccan cuisine...All my senses were on alert but as I strolled past the escargots stall (number 1) curiosity got the better of me... Within moments, I found myself pulling a slimy curled snail from its shell and endeavoured it. I was proud of myself for try something new, even if it was just the one. The next morning as we set off for the desert, I had packed a few things including a mediation book. Something completely out of the ordinary for me. With dyslexia I was never great at reading but I was also a mediation virgin. I wanted to try and discover myself on this trip, so thought this book was worth a go. Upon arrival to the desert camels awaited to trek us to the camp that was a haze on the distant horizon. There were all sorts of people on this excursion, but surprising only two of us had travelled alone. Philip was a pystrictic doctor originally from the Philippines but currently lived in Germany. He spoke of fascinating stories of his amazing adventures around the world. I could easily have sat listening to him all night but as the sun began setting I decided to take myself off to a sand dune. Some alone time to take it all in. The sky quickly drew its curtains from the orange tainted blue to pitch black, with a sparkle of twinkling stars. As I lay there I thought about how brave I was to travel to Morocco alone. I was so organised in my plans and surprisingly spontaneous in eating the escargots, even adventurous to come on this excursion. I like that I am extroverted enough to communicate with strangers and I’m not afraid to wander off alone. To lie here in the silent, dark and on a lonely sand dune in the middle of a desert. But I realise something, I don’t feel lonely, in fact I have never felt so empowered and in control in my whole life. This trip done me the world of good as I finally realised something, something that I overlooked my whole life. I admire the strong person I am, the morals and traits I process. My family and Friends joked that the Moroccan men would fall in love with me here. some said I’d be kidnapped, but not even myself expected that I would be the one to fall in love, a love that is probably more important than any.... and that is self-love. Morocco gave me love when I least expected it.