Click on the property name to view the listing on Airbnb, and take note of the date of stay. The property would have probably changed since then!

Green Oasis in Casablanca, Morocco

Date of stay: October 2011

Our first Airbnb experience! It’s a gorgeous house — one of those kinds that you see in magazines, and it looks exactly like it. We were unable to meet Christina, our host, but she made sure that we were taken care of.

Eleanna’s in Mykonos, Greece

Date of stay: October 2013

A cozy room in the center of Chora, the center of Mykonos. There were three of us staying in this space, and it was a good fit for us. There is a small kitchenette so we were able to prepare meals while we were there.

Semi-one Bedroom apartment in Bangkok, Thailand

Date of stay: October 2015

Booked this when I attended the Travel Blogger Exchange in Bangkok, which was held at the Queen Sirikit National Convention Center. The room is quite big, spacious for one or two people staying there.

Highlight ideal location studio in Taipei, Taiwan

Date of stay: November 2017

An apartment inside a mid-rise building in Zhongshan. Roomy for two, but can feel cramped if there are more of you in the room. It’s walking distance to the Huangshan 1916 Creative Park, which was the main purpose of our trip.

Central Park Modern Suite in Melbourne, Australia

Date of stay: May 2019

A private room inside a high rise condominium right smack in the middle of the Melbourne CBD. The host lives in the other room, and we have access to the kitchen and was able to put stuff in the fridge. Our room also has an ensuite toilet, and its own TV.

Have you tried staying at an Airbnb property yet? You can get $20 off your first qualified booking if you sign up using my invite code!

Orange cart at Drjemma El Fna square. The freshly squeezed orange juice is really yummy!

As the petit taxi drove through the gates of the medina, we eagerly took it all in, the crowds, the traffic, the noise. It was the complete opposite of Ouarzazate. After the driver insisted we pay more than what the ride should cost, we dragged our luggages down the street beside Cafe de France, the favorite meeting place of tourist and guides in the medina. As soon as I whipped out my iPod to look at the map, touts came to offer to show us the way. Waving them off, we continued walking, following our instincts and finding the derb where Amour Riad is.

We rejoiced upon learning that there are no stairs to contend with to go to our room, but our elation was short lived when we realized that the only thing that separates the toilet and shower from the tiny room is a curtain. Still, the location is excellent: only 7 minutes walk from the square, and there’s a small sari-sari store at the entrance to the alley where I was able to buy a 1-liter bottle of water for only MAD 5.

Prez David at Jardin Majorelle

Though we had plenty of time in Marrakech, we were only able to make it to one major tourist attraction: the Jardin Majorelle, a 12-acre botanical garden that pay homage to Yves Saint-Laurent, who owns its. A nook in the garden has a memorial to the designer, while a small gallery holds various original artwork. When the medina gets overwhelming, this is a lovely place to soak in some peace and quiet.

After the gardens, we walked to a nearby supermarket to buy some supplies. It was fortunate because the rain started pouring. We stayed inside to wait for it to end, and after about an hour, we head back out to get a petit taxi. They were grossly overcharging us, so we decided to just walk until we find another taxi that would take us back to the square. We walked and walked until we found ourselves outside the medina walls. After walking for about 30 minutes, we were back in the souk.

Where argan oil comes from

In Marrakech, we mainly stayed in the square, shopping. There were a lot of pretty things in the souks. Colorful scarves, leather bags in different shapes and color, and shiny tea pots with colorful glasses. In our first venture into the souk, we were after one very specific store: the Assouss Argane Marrakech. Actually, it’s Assouss Cooperative d’Argane in the Lonely Planet guide. We followed the directions in the book and promptly got lost. It’s in the general vicinity of the area where the book says it is and has the same address, so I’m betting it’s the same.

So why all this effort? Argan oil comes from the nut of the argan tree, which grows only in Morocco. This makes the oil very rare and expensive. It is used in cosmetics (as an ingredient or used directly on skin) or in dishes (just drizzle on your food, no direct heat). I asked around and found out that a small bottle of cosmetic grade oil goes for Php 1,500 in Manila. Cla and I hoarded bought 60mL bottles for more than half the price.

Dinner with Lilliane

Braving the souks and finding that shop gave us the confidence to find our way around. True enough, we made the same trip (though through an easier path) the following day to show Lilliane, who happened to be in Marrakech. It was great to meet her again and ask her about her round the world trip. We had dinner with her Couchsurfing host on our first night, then spent the following day shopping in the souk. Because there were three of us, it was easier to bargain because there were three of us buying in the store. That and the fact that Lilliane has mastered the art of haggling.

For dinner, we finally ventured into the Djemma El Fina night market. Touts are very aggressive here, each one trying to outdo each other’s offering. We chose the stall with a very affable waiter, who promised us that one order of brochette has 6 sticks, unlike the others who only serve 5. Aside from the usual bread, we also got complimentary olives and “salad,” which comprised of a couple of dried aubergines and grilled green capsicum.

Yummy

Most of the stalls (and most of the local restaurants actually) offer practically the same menu. They vary only in price, size of the serving, and what comes free with it. There are stalls that have mostly tourists as customers — chances are, the servers would be able to speak to you in English, and there are stalls that are mostly filled by locals. You’ll probably get the menu with the tourist prices, and you might have a hard time talking to the servers, but at least you’ll get a taste of the local fare.

If you’re really into Moroccan cuisine, one thing you can do is attend a cooking class. There are only a handful of names that pop out when you do a Google search, so I went with the one that fit my budget. Souk Cuisine is also recommended in the Lonely Planet, has a lovely website, and the clincher: it includes a trip to the market. We assembled at the Cafe de France, and headed into the souk to buy the ingredients for what we’re cooking that morning. We were handed a wallet with money in it for the goods — we had to select the produce ourselves and haggle with the sellers. We were led out to where the locals buy their food: in the open market where the vegetables are put on top of mats laid down on the ground. Parang namimili lang sa sidewalk. I had to smile because it was exactly like the markets here in Manila, crowds and mud included.

Making the briouates with vegetables

On the way to where the class will be held, we stopped by the community oven for some freshly baked bread. Since not all household has its own oven, they would bring their dough or tangier here to bake and cook, then pick it up after a couple of hours. We settled down and have some olives, bread and tea while the bounty from the market are cleaned and prepared. Gemma, divided us into groups and given tasks. Some chopped, some mixed ingredients, some took turns frying sliced aubergines. It was a very hands-on class, which makes it all the more fulfilling to dig in to our late lunch.

Despite the chaos, the touts (watch out for the henna ladies), and the rain, Marrakech won us over. We haven’t been able to see a lot of must-see places, so I guess that means we have to go back?

Ouarzazate square

Our accommodation for the night was at Hotel Amlal, which we picked because it has Wi-Fi and offered half-board meals. Unlike Hassi Labied though, there were plenty of restaurants and shops in Ouarzazate, so finding food was no problem. Nevertheless, the were glad for the decision to go half-board as Hotel Amlal served the best tagine I’ve tried in Morocco.

After dinner, we made plans for the outing to Aït Benhaddou the following day. We were referred to Desert Dream, who tailored a tour based on what we wanted to do (go to Aït Benhaddou, that’s it). We agreed to a price and meeting time, shook hands and went to bed.

Going off the road to Aït Benhaddou

The following morning, we wandered around Ouarzazate. It was a small, quiet town and in the not-so-early morning, it was practically deserted. A lot of tourists pass here on the way to Erfoud or Merzouga, but not a lot of them stay. There were calls from a handful of shopkeepers to try their food or buy their wares, but they were quick to stop once they were ignored.

Our driver and guide for the afternoon was at the Hotel by 1:30pm and Cla and I were surprised when he led us to a Toyota Land Cruiser. We certainly wasn’t expecting a 4×4 for this trip! As we drove through the town, we were struck at how quiet the entire town was and how everything seemed to be in order.

Aït Benhaddou as seen from a distance

Nicknamed “Ouallywood,” Ouarzazate is home to two film studios, Atlas Studios and Cla Studios (much to the delight of my travel companion). This is where movies like The Mummy, Gladiator, and one of my favorites, Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopatra were filmed. Maybe that’s why the town feels like it’s a huge movie set.

The driver veered off the main road and we realized why we’re on a 4×4. He drove a path on the trail and soon we were bumping to a stop next to a gorge. While it wasn’t terrifyingly high, it was still pretty impressive and opens to even more vast expanses of nothingness. We huddled back to the SUV after several photos and drove up, down and across streams, passing a herd of goats and a small oasis village. Finally, we got back on the tarmac and followed the road to the fortified city.

Sayuri at Aït Benhaddou

Unsurprisingly, the road to Aït Benhaddou was lined with souvenir shops and cafe. About 5 minutes’ walk from the car, we came upon a shallow stream that we crossed using a makeshift bridge made of rocks and then a second stream that we crossed by stepping on bags of gravel.

The kzar of Aït Benhaddou is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is a traditional pre-Saharan Habitat and a great example of southern Moroccan architecture. The “earthen construction” ensured that the buildings adapt well to the seasons and provides a cool respite from the dessert heat. Aït Benhaddou has within its walls houses, a mosque and even a public square. Up on a hill was an observation tower, which gives you a 360° view of the surrounding area.

View from the observation tower

Its Word Heritage status meant that Aït Benhaddou is in every tourist’s Moroccan itinerary. If you’re planning to go here, plan your trip on a weekday to avoid the crowds.

Erg Chebbi with dunes reaching up to 150 meters in height.

We were met with a bunch of touts, something that we are already used to in Morocco. Each one was offering to take us to a hotel, and we ignored the calls, except for one: Hassan Ougnir’s of the La Source Inn, where we made reservations for.

After getting our luggages, we were herded into a Land Cruiser, which we shared with three other girls from the same bus. Turns out Hassi Labied, the village where the inn is located, is five minutes away. There are no roads between Merzouga and Hassi Labied, just a dirt track in the dessert. The bumpy ride did two things to us: it woke us up from the 11-hour ride from Fes, and it made us realize how exhausted we all are.

Peggy was about 50 meter from me, the foot of the dune about 300 meters away. Those small spikes atop the dune? Those are people.

La Source Inn looked exactly as it did in their website. We loved the wide open spaces, and marveled at how spacious our room was. It felt surreal looking out our window and seeing the sand dunes. The trip has taken its toll and soon we were sprawled in our beds and snoring.

We woke up in the afternoon and when we went out our room, we found out that the other girls ended up sleeping as well. We ventured out the hotel to explore the village with Peggy, one of the other tourist in the bus. It was a quick walk because there really isn’t much to see. It did confirm one thing: there are no stores or restaurants nearby. That’s why the rates for the hotel included breakfast and dinner.

Hassan with the dromedaries for the sunset trek

We headed for the dunes. It was a 10 minute walk to the edge, and when we got there, we realized just how big the dunes were. The Saharan sand is orange and very very fine. Walking and climbing over the dunes takes a lot of energy, as your feet sinks with each step you take.

We watched the sunset and made our way back to the hotel before it got too dark. We were ravenous, having nothing to eat since dinner the night before. Soon we were served bread and soup, followed by a tagine, and capped with Pistachio yogurt and wafers for dessert. There is no television in our rooms nor in the common room, so after dinner, our hosts sang some Berber songs (and telling Berber jokes), and taught us how to play the traditional instruments.

That way to Timbuktu

The following day, we took a sunset camel trek to the dessert. Camel, in this context, actually means dromedary, which only has one hump. We rode to the dessert, the dromedary making good time on the soft sand, walking as if it was nothing. They were pissing and pooping the entire way. True story.

Our guide pointed to the east and proclaimed that Timbuktu us 52 days away by camel. There was nothing but sand dunes as far as the eye can see. I think I’ll go crazy before the 52 days are up.

Chefchaouen square

The rain still hasn’t let up when the bus pulled into the town’s central bus terminal. We dashed through the puddles and up the steps to the station’s offices to book our bus going down to Fes in a couple of days. We were hoping that the rain would have already stopped when we were done with our business, but it still continued to pour. Luckily, when we went down to the waiting area, a taxi drove in to drop a passenger. We asked the driver if he can take us to Pension Suika, and after some (half-hearted) haggling, we agreed on a price.

He drove off and soon we are encountering seriously sloped roads. We never seemed to stop climbing, and soon enough, the driver stopped, and in our addled state, it seems he stopped in the middle of nowhere. We stood around looking lost when a man approached us, asking “Pension Suika?” Since we couldn’t make any sense of the directions the hostel gave us, we gladly went with him.

Walking/climbing in the medina

We walked in the pouring rain, through cobbled streets and down a series of steps. I’ve never been more glad to arrive in a hostel. Unfortunately, the good Samaritan wasn’t so good after all; he badgered Cla for money for “guiding” us, until the hostel’s receptionist chased him out. As we were checking in, he gave us some bad news: the rain seeped in and the room we reserved was wet. Don’t worry, he said, he got us rooms at the hostel next door. We can just check in to Pension Suika the following day.

We were herded to Hotel Mauritania and up even more (uneven) steps. The room was… well, it wasn’t the best, but we were glad to rest and get out of our wet clothes. We both plopped down on our beds and was promptly asleep. It was dark when we woke up and our tummies were grumbling — we haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast in Meknes.

It really is blue. No color adjustments.

The rain has thankfully finally let up and we were able to stay dry. The temperature remains low though, and we opted to sit near the kitchen of the restaurant we picked to avoid the mountain breeze. We were served the customary bread and some olives as appetizers. We gleefully dug in, eager for some nourishment. It was fairly late and it was pretty dark, so after dinner, we just walked back to the hostel. We stopped by the nearby store for some drinks when we spotted packs of Filipinos, chocolate covered biscuits. Cla treated me to a pack and it was a pretty good dessert and snack.

The following day, we went back to Pension Suika and finally got our room. It was clean, there was hot water in the shower and there’s wi-fi. Since breakfast isn’t included with our accommodation, we headed back to the square to eat. Nature seem to want to make up for the previous day and presented us with gorgeous blue skies that made it a joy to explore Chefchaouen.

Different shades of blue

Being situated on the side of a mountain meant stairs and lots of it. Going around meant having to climb up and down countless steps and inclines. Though it was tiring, getting lost in Chefchaouen’s medina was actually quite enjoyable. The buildings and houses were painted blue and just begging to be photographed.

While researching for the trip, I keep on reading that there are plenty of stray cats in Morocco. We encountered a lot in Meknes, but it was in Chefchaouen that we hit the motherload. There were cats everywhere (specially when we got farther away from the square), and even in our hostel!

Sayuri in Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen surpassed our expectations. We were happy that we found out about it before the trip and was able to add it to the itinerary. Our only regret was that we didn’t stay longer.

Bab Mansour

Meknes wasn’t really in our original itinerary. We wanted to go to Volubilis, and according to research, day trips from Meknes can easily be done. Though it can also be done from Fes, there was something about Meknes that called to us. Maybe it’s the prospect of adding another notch to our Unesco Heritage Site list, or maybe I was just easily swayed by a blog I read about how laid back the city was that greatly appealed to me. Nevertheless, it was one of the best decisions we made because Meknes was a great introduction to Morocco.

Locals either watching a demonstration or a snake charmer

It was indeed laid back. Though there were touts calling out to us at every turn, after a day in the medina, they started ignoring us. There are a lot of people around, but it doesn’t feel crowded. Well, it was nothing that we couldn’t handle anyway.

Our first (of many) tagine

Our taxi driver from the train station dropped us off across Bab Mansour and gave us vague instructions on how to go to our riad. We traveled for more than 20 hours, and we were just looking forward to a warm shower, a soft bed and a filling meal. We walked right into what travelers have always cautioned others about Morocco: getting lost in the medina. The path twisted and turned, each narrow path looking just like the others we’ve passed. Luckily there was a sign every couple of meters, pointing us to Riad Hiba.

The Meknes outside the medina walls

We finally found our home in Meknes, relieved to stop walking, only to be led up a spiral staircase made of bricks of uneven height. After struggling through the last couple of steps leading up to our room, we flopped down on our respective beds and napped.

At Moulay Idriss and the army of grand taxis waiting to whisk you off to Volubilis or back to Meknes (or Fes)

We woke up recharged and refreshed, but also famished. We asked the reception for restaurant recommendations and was directed to a cafe that overlooks the square. Our first Moroccan taste was of khubz — bread that we would have in every meal. It was eaten with tagine (also first of many) and pastilla, a flaky pastry filled with savory meat, fried and sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar.

Our first look at Volubilis

After our meal, we decided to check out the medina. We just started walking — no maps, no GPS. We followed the locals and ended up outside the medina walls and gaping at the picture the ville nouvelle (new city) presented, contrasting greatly from the medina we just emerged from. We delved back into the old city, taking a different way and still managing to find our way back. That’s what I love about traveling: getting to explore and making your own path.

Mosaic tiles that was laid there centuries ago

The following day, we made our way to the holy town of Moulay Idriss. It’s funny because when we were asking our host in Riad Hiba for directions, we would ask in English, he would answer in French and we’d understand each other. I don’t know how that happened, but it really made sense. We managed to get ourselves to the bus station and into the correct bus. The bus had no air conditioning, but the weather was cool enough that it wasn’t really uncomfortable (though I dread to think what it must be like at the height of summer). It was a pleasant one-hour ride past fields filled with olive trees. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise when we ended up at a roadside cafe whose specialties were olives.

Where chariots once passed

From Moulay Idriss, it was a short drive to Volubilis. An old Roman town, Volubilis is now one of the best preserved Roman ruins in North Africa. Though it may seem like it’s just a pile of rubble, it’s astonishing to stand there and realize that these buildings have been there for more than a thousand years.

I went to Morocco wanting to see a different landscape. It was very different alight.

We headed back to Meknes afterwards, making our first foray into the souks and trying out more Moroccan dishes that would be our staple for the next two weeks.

View more photos from my Moroccan trip over at the Just Wandering Facebook page.

I promised them I’d give a copy of my spreadsheet, which has our itinerary, budget, list of accommodation we considered staying at and links to various resources. Since it’s Christmas and all, I decided to share it with everyone! So here’s a little something from me to you: [download id=”8121″].

It’s nothing fancy, but it should be enough to get you started. It’s my way of saying thanks for all sticking with me through all these years

Putting my cooking lessons to good use

We left Marrakech early this morning, anticipating the volume of people traveling back to their hometown on the eve of Eid al-Adha. We were so different from when we first arrived in Morocco almost 3 weeks ago: we were no longer meek and confused at the platform. In fact, we were even the first ones onboard the train.

Arriving at Casa Voyageurs left us with little choice but to accept a ride from an enterprising petit taxi driver. We ended up lost, but were saved by the kindness of a policeman and another taxi driver who barely speak any English but was able to take us to the house we’re staying at. The driver only charged us 20 dirhams.

I wanted to end the trip by watching the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean, but considering the hassle we encountered going to our accommodation, we just opted to stay in, only going out to walk to the nearby supermarché for some chicken, spices, soup mix, chips, drinks and dessert. While we love the food in Morocco, it’s nice to cook and taste something familiar again.

Photo by Cla Ines

I love my new bag

Lilliane, who is into the fifth month of her one-year RTW trip, happened to be in Marrakech the same time. We met up for dinner last night. It’s her last day today in Morocco, so off to the souk we go for some Moroccan goods: locally weaved scarves, leather bags and shoes, and argan oil.

Haggling is a must when shopping in the markets. While other shop keepers can be quite brusque and even aggressive, some are charming and quite accommodating. It also helped that there were 3 of us buying: it’s easier to ask for discounts.

A word of advise to those planning to shop in Morocco: ask where the items are from. At the scarf store, the shop keeper told us that some of their products are from India and China.

Photo by Cla Ines

Through the High Atlas

One minute we were marveling at tr mountain, next thing we know, our bus is hugging its side. The view was spectacular: green valleys, autumn foliage in the river beds, snow capped peaks. The road was narrow though and zig zags through the mountain. As we take a rest stop after several hairpin curves, eating is the last thing on our minds (even if the guy manning the grill looks like Andrew Keegan).

We finally arrive in Marrakech, prepared for touts and chaos. We were worried for nothing it seems; it’s nothing a seasoned visitor to Quiapo and Divisoria can’t handle.

Photo by Cla Ines

View from our balcony

There were no touts waiting to “welcome” us when we got off the bus, and we were ignored for the most part while we walked the length of Rue de Marché.

We stopped here en route to Marrakech, to visit Aït Benhaddou, a fortified ksar about 20 kilometers from here. Our driver gave us quite a treat when he veered off the road and drove us through the plains, streams and small oasis villages.

Tomorrow we’re pushing on to the last leg of our Morroco trip. Bring it on, Marrakech!

Photo by Cla Ines

Those little specks you see are runners and the organizers

Merzouga is a refreshing change from Fez. Sure there were touts waiting for us at the bus stop, but they don’t pester us as much.

We’re staying in the village of Hassilabied, 5 kilometers from downtown Merzouga. There are no stores or restaurants nearby, but the dunes are within walking distance. We walked a small portion of the dunes yesterday and found out why it’s better to traverse it on camel (rather, dromedaries): the sand and very fine and soft it’s an effort walking and climbing the sand dunes.

Despite the cloudless sky and the sun shining brightly, it’s pleasantly cool here. The hotel retains much of the cold from the night and it holds all through the day.

Last night after dinner, our hosts played some traditional Berber music and afterwards taught us how to play. It’s hard not to like this place.

Photo by Cla Ines

Inside our riad

We went back to the Ville Nouvelle to buy our bus ticket to Merzouga. The rain has been pouring on and off the entire morning, adding to our annoyance. Only the ankle-deep flood waters remain of the rain when we reached our destination, and as the sky starts to clear, we feel our moods lift.

Neither one of us was in any hurry to go back to the medina, so after booking and exhanging currencies, we wandered around the city, aimless and without a care for direction. We don’t have any specific destination in mind; we just want to walk.

It was a very pleasant walk. The locals hardly paid any attention to us, which we gladly welcomed. Those who did merely greeted us bonjour and went on their way.

We were in better spirits when we dived back into the chaos of the medina, now more immune to the calls of the shop owners. Unfortunately, this has made us into snobs and we now ignore any greeting that comes from within the shops. For me, it seemed better that way for it greatly lessen any stress and prevent any aggravation.

We made a cursory walk down the medina’s main street, following the path set on Lonely Planet. While the wares, the colors, the sounds and smell teased the senses and tempted the shoppingera within, it just wasn’t enough.

Photo by Cla Ines

The landscape between Chefchaouen and Fes

After Meknes and Chefchaouen, Fes was mildly disconcerting. The touts are more aggressive, the people more persistent.

In every trip, there is always that one place or experience that doesn’t enchant you. So far, we’re disenchanted with Fes. It’s the first time that we are actually more comfortable in the Ville Nouvelle, rather than the Medina. Maybe we just haven’t given the place enough time to endear itself to us, or maybe the non-stop travel for the past days are catching up to us. Nature even adds to the misery by bringing in the rain, which stops us from leaving the comforting confines of the riad and the router’s coverage area.

Bread, bread and even more bread

While we are grateful to be where we are right now, I think some of the novelty is wearing off. Last night we gladly traded the ubiquitous tagine for pizza and paella. I know I sound like a complete brat saying these things, but i really do hope things pick up in Fes before we leave again tomorrow night.

Photo by Cla Ines

I knew it was blue, but I came prepared to be disappointed. Now that the rain has gone and the sun is out, it’s even more picturesque as we expected.

The town is nestled in the Rif mountains and is not for those with weak knees. There are hundreds of steps to climb and steep inclines to traverse going around the medina, but each turn would get you scrambling for your camera to take a picture.

As I said in the previous post, this place is crawling with tourists, most of which are from Europe. It’s not surprising as Morocco is just below Spain. The Spanish influence is stronger here than French. The locals can understand the language and the local dishes have Spanish influences. Speaking of Spain, guess what we saw at the nearby sari-sari store:

We haven’t tried it yet (the cookies, not the cat), opting to save it for the bus ride to Fes tomorrow. It’s only 7pm but I already feel so sleepy. Unfortunately, the backpackers hanging out in the lounge right outside our room are still very much awake.

Chefchaouen Medina photo by Cla Ines