Stepping off the plane, a humid African heat engulfed my body and I immediately noticed how different the air tasted. Having not slept the night prior, we began an ambitious amble through the city of Tetouan, advancing towards the bus terminal. A certain enthusiasm urged us to trek through this sleeping Moroccan maze while the sun rose patiently around us, the dark sky morphing it’s hues into candy-floss pinks, illuminating the foreign buildings with sweet morning light. Eventually, after a breakfast of bread and honey, we were on the coach to a city much different to the one traversed for those few, waking hours. A bumpy sleepless journey led us to the blue city, known for its mysterious pastel buildings and endless winding alleys. The bus dropped us off and the journey continued as we began to scale the angular roads that led us towards the centre, more commonly known as the medina. Mountains loomed above us with buildings constructed haphazardly into the inclining landscape. Having booked a hostel, we had a vague idea of its location, but upon consulting the rather roadless map, all we could tell was that it was further up. The sun was now shining in all its relentless glory, and the bag upon my back was clinging to my sodden t-shirt like a wet mint leaf to the side of an empty glass. The tight nature of the construction meant streets in the medina were wide enough for two or three bodies on each side, especially with the many stalls selling leather, carpets and other such items. Locals, unbeknown to the typical English-politeness of “Oh sorry,” bumped into each other with honest disregard. The uneven surface below my tired feet began transforming as dehydration kicked in, the crazed bustle of Moroccans asking if we want to see their shops or cannabis farms becoming muffled and confused as the climb intensified. A turn left would bring you seamlessly to the street you were previously on, the smooth pastel walls creating mirrored pathways and corridors. A refuge presented itself when, at last, we broke upon a wide space at the top of the medina, housed by a large cerulean arch. The floor became dusty underneath as the haze of the city dipped behind. At the tip of the sandy incline, just as the ground began to plateau, a group of Moroccan men sat smoking a rather suspicious looking pipe, sharing it between hits. Three or four chickens darted around them freely while they went about their business, immense mountains magnificent behind them. After a relatively static conversation, the men pointed in a vague direction, any headway better than the endless labyrinth traversed previous. So back down through the arch we went, into the blue city once more with it’s soulful authenticity and colourful charismatic charm. Hours later I awoke in soft bed sheets, evening light pouring through a small gated window in the side of a cool blue room. Recalling the exhausted journey, my rested body was once again filled with an irrepressible longing to explore, so after a rapid cold shower, I grabbed my 35mm Canon Ae1 loaded with some Kodak colour film and climbed up the narrow steps of the hostel. Approaching the top, the sound of call to prayer began overflowing old rattly megaphones dotted around the city and the terrace opened up to a landscape that made me pause in my motion. Located at the top of the medina, our hostel overlooked the city in miraculous splendour. To my left was a monolithic mountain that worked its way down along the horizon, toy houses scattered through its base and a miniature mosque elevated above. The sun was creeping away, filling the surrounded buildings with warm, golden light. Children playing football, accompanied with soft jingles of goat bells, encased my eardrums as I breathed the deepest of breaths, soft spiced scents enticing my nostrils. A hunger in the pit of my stomach filled me with deep commotion; an undoubted hunger for food, but the same hunger for adventure that had postponed sleep hours before, as the wheels of the plane left the tarmac runway miles away, elevating me off into an unknown, mystical world.