Morocco is a country full of clichés and travellers “finding” themselves.  Despite this, I didn’t quite know what to expect when I arrived. It seemed difficult to imagine that you could land anywhere completely different on a twenty quid Ryanair flight from Spain.
When I first arrived in Marrakech, the first hostel I stepped into fitted all of the clichés: colourful sequined cushions, mint tea and shisha, and only minutes away from the Djemaa el-Fna, with its heady mix of snake charmers, performing monkeys, and food stalls selling harira soup, snails and hot herbal teas. However, the first people I met were not soft-spoken hippies, who could “feel the love”, but a group of Glaswegians drinking vodka on the roof terrace. Needless to say, I felt at home. And before you tut about Brits abroad, they were going to Pacha Marrakech, with the largest sound-system in North Africa and in fact a very Moroccan experience.  Young Moroccans in Marrakech are more likely to spend a night there than by snake charmers in Djemaa el-Fna; in fact, the club was full but with very few tourists.
But, this was not a clubbing holiday, and I soon wanted to get out of the tourist-traps that are the old Medina and souks of Marrakech. In two and a half weeks, I travelled to the imperial cities of Casablanca and Fes, the kitesurfing and surf town of Essaouira, the arts centre of Asilah and, my favourite place, the beautiful, relaxed town of Chefchaouen in the Rif Mountains, where everything is painted blue. Travelling by a variety of local buses was an experience in itself, and I soon realised that bus culture differs quite markedly between countries. In London, it is only teenagers “misunderstood-by-society” at the back of the top-deck that play tinny music from their mobile phones; in Morocco it was everyone, including middle-aged men. And then there were the sellers on the buses: the most surprising piece of merchandise being Quranic verses on cassette, demonstrated by a man playing one from a 1980s style boombox as he walked up and down the aisle.
Morocco’s differences are its main draw. I soon got used to the bartering, and the local differences in the charade that has to be played out to make sure you don’t get (very) ripped off. And while some Moroccans’ views of England consisted solely of fish and chips, David Beckham and the Queen, and someone offered to buy me for 5,000 camels, most Moroccans were friendly and relaxed, not thinking twice of inviting tourists to share with them as they broke fast. Moments such as seeing goats up a tree in the argan fields on the way to Essaouira, eating chickpeas from a paper-cone on the beach, or watching old women pick prickly pears kept reminding me that it really was possible to get somewhere so different on a twenty pound flight.
Unfortunately, it was apparent that many others had realised this too, and while I relished the chance to meet so many other travellers, at times, experiences were marred by crowding and poor-quality, unnatural, expensive services, goods and food aimed at rich Western tourists. Two very different trips to waterfalls made this stand out most. From Marrakech I went to the Cascades d’Ouzard, the largest waterfalls in North Africa. These were undeniably stunning, but crowded, and surrounded by expensive food and guides who wouldn’t leave you alone. In comparison, in the Rif Mountains, after trekking with ten other travellers in the heat, we came across seemingly untouched waterfalls that were ours to cool off in. We saw no other sign of life, apart from some local boys who came to cliff jump (proving to be much braver than ourselves) and the local fauna and flora, including a rather timid monkey.
With Morocco being such an easy destination to reach, it would be easy to assume that it cannot provide the beauty, mystery and culture of other further afield destinations, and some areas are merely imitations of former glories. But, from browsing the souks in Fes and surfing in Essaouira to walking the blue paths of Chefchaouen, I’ve seen that not only is it possible to get somewhere wholly different in a few hours on a budget flight, but a few hours on a bus can take you to a landscape that’s completely unexpected.