I'd been planning this trip for months and Morocco still managed to surprise me.
One thing that caught me — and the whole group — off guard was the unexpectedly verdant landscape. As we drove out of Marrakech toward Fez, the terrain shifted from terracotta and dust to something startlingly green. Rolling pastures, wildflowers, dark rich soil. Several travelers said it reminded them of Ireland. Not what anyone expects from the northernmost country in Africa.
The explanation: Morocco had just come out of seven years of drought, and the rains had finally returned. You could feel the whole country exhaling.
The landscape wasn't the only thing that stayed with me. Travel photos of Morocco tend to linger on the glamour — the riads, the souks, the colors — and gloss over everything else. The further we got from the cities, the more we saw another side to Morocco.
As we journeyed by motorcoach along the road between Fez and Chefchaouen, farmers cut tall grasses along the roadside and loaded them into baskets on the backs of donkeys — clearly, we weren't the only ones grateful for the rain. Meanwhile, goats, cows, and pedestrians crossed the highway at will, while we traveled in air-conditioned luxury. On our final morning, children walked to school alongside ox-drawn carts — some traveling for miles — as we headed to the airport and back to our comfortable homes.
Same roads. Very different destinations. Those moments — the ones you only stumble into while traveling — leave me quietly, deeply grateful. Both to have the opportunity to travel, and also to have a warm, safe place to come home to.
