Hostels and Rooftops in Morocco
My bedroom was inspired by the deep hues and dark wood tones of a place I had never been to. In my mind, the aubergine purples, deep burgundies, rich fabrics, and fanciful pillows encapsulated my idea of an entire country. An epiphany came to me in a flash! I decided that I wanted to sleep in the desert. My travel ideas happen to be of the impregnable kind and so my mind was set.
It’s funny when you physically take off for a journey that your mind has already visited countless times. It was the height of summer and I anticipated being in a desert filled, sandy landscape for over 7 days. The knowledge that I was also traveling during Ramadan had my backpack filled with knee-length dresses, cover-ups and was altogether more conservative than I was used to for my favorite season.
I arrived to Fez prior to the start of a tour and I took a Petit Taxi to my hostel. As the instructions on my print-out indicated, the cab driver called the hostel so that someone could meet me at the entrance of the medina. A dizzying antiquated town of many twists and turns, the area right outside the medina wasn’t as bustling as I expected it to be at 5pm. My taxi pulled up and a gentle quiet soul with glasses met me wearing what looked like a male dress and pointy slippers. He smiled at me, and without a word carried my backpack through a short walk inside the medina. We arrived at the end of an alleyway and were greeted by a large upside down hand on an even larger wooden door.