Between Dunes and Spice Markets: Six Days in Morocco

I'm lying in the desert, freezing cold under nothing but a few wool blankets. Just before, I got to witness one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life, in the Merzouga desert, famous for the Erg Chebbi, a dune field up to 150 metres high in the Moroccan Sahara near the Algerian border. I simply can't get enough of the sight, like a scene out of a Thousand and One Nights film. And that alone made the nearly ten-hour drive worth it, all packed into a single six-day trip.

Arriving in Marrakech

For a really cheap price, we board the plane to Marrakech. A short taxi ride later, we arrive at one of the beautiful riads, the traditional Moroccan guesthouses. The highlight is usually the inner courtyard with a pool, sometimes the lovely rooftop terrace as well. We're welcomed with a chai, mint tea with a generous load of sugar. They say it's Morocco's whisky. Actual alcohol is served in only a handful of restaurants here, and thanks to the taxes it isn't exactly cheap either. I think this is the first holiday where I drank more tea than beer.

On the very first evening we try Moroccan cuisine. There are definitely vegetarian options, but after a week we know exactly why Moroccans tend to be slim. The tajine usually consists of nothing but stewed vegetables, at best enriched with a bit of couscous, and after about half an hour you're hungry again. In Philipp's case, you're hungry again right after eating.

A Guide Through the Labyrinth of the Souks

The next day we booked a tour through the souk, deliberately with a guide, because the risk of getting lost in there is very high. Alongside the snake charmers, which I can only get used to with difficulty, the labyrinthine market in the historic medina also has a fascinating side: we're shown how the crafts work here. How leather is turned into shoes, how wool is dyed with saffron, and we get to try various herbs too. One man in particular stays with me, someone who works in a bakery and simply stands in a dark hole in front of the fire. For over 50 years he's been pushing bread into the flames for a few cents. I really have to say: I can't complain about my office job.

Setting Off Into the Desert: Over the Atlas to Aït-Ben-Haddou

The next morning we set off early again. Sleeping in on holiday? Not for us. A group of 17 in total, we start a two-day trip into the desert: six Italians, three Australian backpackers, two Spaniards, us, and a German-speaking mother-daughter duo from Switzerland.

First stop of the day: Aït Ben Haddou. Don't worry, it didn't ring a bell for me either. But this town lives off tourism, not the classic kind, but film tourism. Roughly every four years a big production takes place here, and at that rhythm you can already guess which blockbusters we're talking about: Gladiator, Game of Thrones and, most recently, The Odyssey. The UNESCO World Heritage Site genuinely makes you feel as if you've landed in another era. German engineering wasn't applied here, though. Looking more closely, I do wonder how a bit of straw and clay holds up over thousands of years.

Before that, however, we crossed the Atlas Mountains. The slightly adventurous journey is worth it for the countless views. That it's also only a few degrees up at a couple of thousand metres is something I, as so often with carry-on-only flights, probably didn't factor in this time either. Luckily we Germans aren't embarrassed by the well-known onion look, so I layered everything that fit into my little backpack.

Late in the evening we already get a taste of the desert: at most the odd camel to be seen for miles, and eventually, on the only road, a hotel for the stopover. You can clearly tell that the night only costs about 10 euros, but authentic was what we wanted, after all.

On a Camel Towards the Sunset

Hiking boots unfortunately didn't fit into the carry-on either, but luckily the path through the depths of the Atlas Mountains is more paved than expected. Impressive, and a welcome change from the many hours in the car. After another four-hour drive, you can finally see them: the first great sand dunes. I'm so taken with the sight and simply can't get enough of it. Hardly any other people, just us. We're led towards the desert camp on camels.

That's certainly debatable, and I tried to soothe my guilty conscience in advance with positive comments. To my relief, the staff treated the animals considerately at all times. And so, after a short ride, we sit on a sand dune that looks like it's been painted, under a starry sky, watching the sun go down. An image I'd almost have to convince myself today isn't AI-generated.

The night is cold, uncomfortable and slightly damp, and I can feel a cold coming on. At least Philipp brings me two extra wool blankets. I wonder whether they weren't lying on the back of a camel just yesterday? Completely exhausted, I fall asleep quickly all the same, because I already know: the night will be short. And what a surprise, the sunrise is no less spectacular than the sunset. I wouldn't trade this sight for any ten hours of driving. But first I take the chance to simply let this beautiful experience sink in once more. At least I took enough photos that I can look at again later, to help me through one driving hour or another.

Hungry, we finally arrive back at a beautiful riad in Marrakech, and we stop at the first pizza place. Even though it comes with mustard and tomato ketchup on the side, the pizza wins us over completely. My former colleague certainly didn't overpromise with this tour recommendation.

Off to the Sea: By Bus to Agadir

"Agadir! Agadir! Agadir! Agadir! Agadir!" someone shouts loudly at the bus terminal. That, apparently, must be our bus. Instead of at 11, it leaves about an hour later. The leftover tickets are sold to non-tourists at cheaper prices. Since the trip is cheap for us anyway, I happily grant the Moroccans this little profit.

I'm hugely looking forward to one last stop by the sea. Right on time for prayer, the bus pulls over onto the hard shoulder of the motorway, the prayer rug comes out, and the whole bus waits until the driver is finished.

In our little Airbnb, where the power socket sits right inside the shower by the way, we quickly pack our swimming things and head off to the beach. No one is in the water, but we don't care. We just ignore the cold for a moment and dive into the Atlantic. No sooner have we brushed the sand off our feet than there's a freshly tapped beer to go with the delicious food.

As I close my eyes in Agadir that evening, I'm still riding my camel through the dunes, rocked practically to sleep.

What the trip cost

We tracked every expense over the six days: