I had a strict policy against traveling with others before the Morocco trip.
I have this fear of being trapped in extended social situations where I am getting on someone else's nerves. I can do dinner with friends, but day trips give me the jeebies.
That was before Asha. When she asked to tag along to Marrakesh I had to quell a stomach-wrenched no. You'll hate me by the end, my social anxiety wanted to warn her. What if I'm too boring, too curious, too picky of an eater?
Sigh. I should have known better than to doubt her awesomeness. She was such an amazing travel buddy, and her friendly spirit put me instantly at ease. We had a terrific time navigating our way through the souks, bartering with the local merchants, and just taking in a completely different culture. We had yummy tagine dinners the first night, only to realize that the Halaal-style chickens in the markets we had seen earlier that day were likely what was accompanying the saucy apricots. But there were more indications that we were no longer in Kansas (or Cavendish Square, for us). We were awoken in the mornings, not by our alarms or city buses, but by charming birds chirping in the riad's blossoming courtyard. Camels were not in zoos but on the sides of roads. And baths (Turkish) consisted of exotic oils and alternating hurls of hot and cold water. It was following one of these baths that Asha and I indulged in massages and pedicures, afterwards relaxing atop a roof to the hypnotic sounds of the call to evening prayers.
A door at the enchanting Jardin Majorelle.
The medina is beautiful at twilight.
Breakfasting atop our riad one morning - before the sun grew too sweltering!
