Morocco. The Most Terrifying Place on Earth?
A two week journey that proved fear is a terrible travel advisor.
Before I even stepped foot in Morocco, I’d already decided it might be the most terrifying place on earth.
According to several blog posts I read, solo female travellers barely survive the medinas. 😳
You’ll be hassled, followed, “guided,” overcharged, cornered, confused, and possibly sold a carpet you never asked for.
The way some people write about Morocco, you’d think stepping into a souk required night-vision goggles, a black belt in negotiation, and a personal security team.
And because I’ve lived in Thailand too long (which might be one of the safest places on earth), and was already a touch apprehensive about solo travel, (which I must admit I haven’t done a lot of), I believed it to be so.
In fact for a brief moment, I wondered if this was the trip where Jo Barnes finally got her comeuppance.
After decades of wandering the world with limited planning and far too much optimism, perhaps Morocco was going to be the destination that said, “Sit down, love. You’re not 25 anymore.”
But that’s one of life’s great travel lessons:
You can read every blog post, social commentary & opinion on the planet and still have absolutely no clue what a place feels like until you’re actually standing in it.
So instead of cancelling the trip (which I did consider during a late-night panic-scroll), I decided to ease myself in gently.
I booked a 9-day tour with On The Go Tours, partly for the cultural immersion, but mostly for peace of mind.
Turns out the cultural immersion was the best part & peace of mind wasn’t needed. Not once.
A Spontaneous Travel Partner & New Friends
I’d been staying for a couple of days with a friend of mine in La Alcaidesa, Spain, who’d offered to drive me to Tarifa to pick up the ferry to Tangier Ville.
At the last minute she decided to join me for the Tangier leg which was fabulous (and in keeping with her adventurous personality - she’s climbed Kilimanjaro - twice - in her 60s!)
I’d also reached out to a couple I’d been following online - The Country Hopping Nomads. I knew from their posts they were in Tangier so thought it would be fun to meet up. They agreed!
Two glorious days later, I’d learned some basic Arabic, sat in the same cafe the Rolling Stones had frequented, wandered the streets of the medina, and had already started to feel the warmth and welcome from the local people.
At no point in Tangier did I feel unsafe. People were genuinely friendly.
Not “I’m being nice before I attempt to sell you trade you for 10 camels” friendly. I said “Salam,” they said “Salam,” and not a single person tried to drag me into a rug shop or trap me in a mysterious alleyway of doom.
Yes, it’s a maze. Yes, there are alleys. But I’ve been lost in Tesco car parks that felt more threatening.
The most aggressive thing that happened was being offered mint tea. And if you’ve never had proper Moroccan mint tea, it’s basically sugar pretending to be a beverage, and my god, it’s delightful.
The Marrakesh Express
Finally I bid my friends farewell and jumped on the train to Marrakesh. First the high-speed Al Boraq to Casablanca, then the regular train from Casa to Marrakesh.
They’re building a high-speed line between Casablanca to Marrakesh for the World Cup, which will take the journey from 3 hrs to 1, but honestly, I sat back, relaxed and enjoyed the view.
As we pulled into Marrakesh station, an older Moroccan man I had been sat next too, gently moved me aside so he could reach and pull down my backpack for me from the overhead shelf.
Another completely random act of kindness!
And That’s Really the Point…
If I’d listened to the loudest voices on the internet, I probably wouldn’t have gone.
If I’d trusted strangers’ fear over my own instincts, I’d have missed one of the most fascinating, warm, surprising countries I’ve ever stepped foot in.
Morocco wasn’t what I expected. Not even close. And that, for me, was the perfect introduction before the tour even began.
The Tour: Nine Strangers, One Minibus, and Zero Serial Killers (Thank God)
Booking a group tour is always a gamble. You never know who they’re going to sit you next to at breakfast, or whether the bloke next to you in the minivan is in desperate need of mouthwash.
But as soon as we sat down for dinner on night one, I realised I’d struck gold.
Everyone was lovely and what I’d call ‘normal’.
We covered the usual first-night small talk:
“Where have you come from?”
“Have you been to Morocco before?”
“Did you also Google whether we’ll get kidnapped in a souk?”
By the time we got to dessert I knew this was going to be fun.
Enter the Dream Team: Saeed & Aissa
The next morning we jumped in the minivan to set off on our adventures with the two men who would make the entire trip what it was.
Saeed, our driver — patient, joyful, endlessly cheerful. The kind of fella who hums while navigating hairpin bends and somehow manages to clap, sing, and steer at the same time.
Aissa, our guide — calm, passionate, generous with his knowledge, and able to explain Morocco’s history, culture, religion, and geography while simultaneously organising 9 people who kept wandering off to take photos of goats.
They were fantastic!
First stop - The Atlas Mountains
The Atlas Mountains are quite simply stunning. Made up of the High Atlas, Middle Atlas and Anti-Atlas, they sweep across the country, shaping the landscape in every direction.
Rising up out of nowhere, there are massive ridges and deep valleys with varying colours shifting every mile — rusty red, soft peach, dusty gold, deep earthy brown.
We arrived at a panoramic spot, stepped out of the van and literally caught our breath.
Because Aissa is Berber and from a place named Happy Valley (makes sense), he told us about the villages, the families, the traditions, the school system, the community structures and all the kind of details you’d never get on your own.
We weren’t just seeing the region; we were understanding it.
Hollywood in Morocco
Next was a stop at Ait Ben Haddou, a UNESCO-listed ksar used in a multitude of films we all know and love.
Gladiator, Prince of Persia, Lawrence of Arabia and more were filmed here, and it was easy to see why. It was dusty, ancient, sun-baked and beautifully authentic.
A Hotel in the Middle of Nowhere (With a Cave Room for Good Measure)
That night we reached Boulmalne Dades, which, to be honest, looked like someone drove into the mountains, stopped suddenly and said, “Yes, here. Build a hotel. People will come.”
And they were right.
I was handed the key to a cave room, which is what it sounds like. A cave, carved into the hill.
Quirky, cool, slightly mysterious and with a view outside the door that was quite simply unreal.
Mountains stretching forever.
Villages clinging to the valleys.
A silence that felt sacred.
That night we had dinner and live Moroccan music. Suddenly our expert driver Saeed morphed into the band’s fifth member, clapping and drumming in perfect time with the band. Next thing you know we’re all up dancing, drumming, clapping.
It was the perfect start to an amazing tour!
The Sunrise Outside My Cave Room
The next morning I woke early to catch the sunrise. I’d read it was a stunning sight to behold and it didn’t disappoint!
The whole valley was washed in soft pinks and oranges, giving the mountains and villages below an almost ethereal feel.
I even made my husband a quick video to tell him “I was born to travel,” because at that moment I genuinely felt like the luckiest person alive!
The Sahara: Camels, Stars & Bloody Big Sand Dunes!
After breakfast we set off for our adventures in the Sahara, and by late afternoon reached the edge of the Erg Chebbi dunes, some of the largest dunes in the Sahara.
Our guide explained that although this whole region was once shaped by ancient rivers, the dunes themselves were formed by the way the wind moves through the mountains.
Over thousands of years the sand has been pushed into these huge golden waves, which is why Erg Chebbi rises so high compared to the rest of the desert.
No matter the reason, they were stunning and went on as far as the eye could see.
After we dumped our bags it was time for the came ride, and let me tell you, if you’ve never mounted a camel gracefully… join the club.
There is no graceful way. There is only:
Awkward heaving.
Sudden panic as it stands up in three different stages.
Hoping no one is filming you (they always are).
But once you’re up there, after the camel finds its rhythm, and you’re no longer hanging on for dear life, suddenly the desert goes quiet, the light softens and the world feels big and ancient and strangely intimate.
It’s one of the few places on Earth where your brain stops narrating and starts listening.
We rode into the dunes for sunset. It was spellbinding, plus an athletic workout trying to get up to the top of a dune for a pic or two!
The Night of a Thousand Stars
Later that evening, a couple from the group & I navigated some dunes in the dark to lay and look at the stars.
The sky wasn’t dark, it was alive.
The Milky Way stretched across the desert like a luminous river. Shooting stars flicked past every couple of minutes. And I found my mind registering just how insignificant we really are in the scheme of life.
It was a magical moment and a wake up call at the same time.
I felt compelled to post this note here on Substack the next morning;
“Looking up at the millions of stars above us as I lay on the sand in the Sahara last night, it hit me how tiny we are.
How brief this little window of time is, and how most of the things we worry about — opinions, deadlines, perfect plans — barely register against a sky that’s been turning above this desert for millions of years.
Yet by some almighty miracle, we get to be here for a flicker of it. And the only thing that really counts is how much of it we truly live.
Life is so much shorter than we think and will continue unabated after we’re gone.
Don’t waste a minute.
Life is happening right now.
Go grab a bit of it. ❤️”
The Journey to Fes: Four Seasons in One Day (Literally)
The next morning we headed to Fes which is a super long drive. Adrian, one of the guys in our group worked out it was the same distance as if we were going from London to Carlisle.
But what made the journey really wild was the weather.
We started in blazing 30°C sunshine. Then, as we climbed into the mountains near Ifrane, the temperature dropped so fast it felt like someone opened a portal to a different country.
One minute we were sweating.
The next minute I could see my breath.
It was like travelling from Morocco to Switzerland without crossing a single border. Even the architecture in Ifrane looked alpine. Sloping roofs, tidy gardens, and Barbary macaques chilling by the roadside like they were waiting for a ski lift.
Fes: The City the Internet Warned Me About (But I Fell In Love With)
That night we arrived in Fes. The city that had been the main reason I decided on a group tour.
I read, in more than one blog post, that Fes was one long, stressful maze of shouting, scam artists, aggressive sellers, and souk-induced trauma.
And whilst I can’t argue with the experiences others may have had, for me, quite the opposite was true.
Fes was spiritual, vibrant, colourful, chaotic, and bursting with talent.
Every corner of the old medina is handmade, with pottery, weaving, leather, carving, metalwork. Skills passed down through families for generations.
I was a touch nervous that the minute I stepped into the medina I’d be dragged into a dark alley and forced to buy nine carpets and a donkey.
Thankfully, that wasn’t my experience at all.
The Wallet Guy Who Became My Bodyguard
The only slightly “intense” moment came when a very enthusiastic man tried to sell me a wallet.
He wasn’t rude or aggressive, just determined.
He chatted away happily as I politely declined nine different times… and in the process, I got separated from my group.
Suddenly I looked up and thought, ‘Oh brilliant, I’ve lost everyone and I’m with the wallet guy.’
But before I could panic, he grabbed my arm (gently) and said:
“Don’t be scared. I’m going to take you to your group.”
He then walked me through the medina, asking other shopkeepers if they’d seen “the group of tourists with the guide,” and walked me right back to them.
I didn’t buy the wallet.
He didn’t mind at all.
He just smiled, waved, and went back to work.
This for me was Morocco in a nutshell. Warm, proud, helpful, full of surprises, and absolutely nothing like the horror stories.
Fes ended up being one of my favourite places on the entire tour. I could easily spend a week there, and probably will in the future.
Chefchaouen: The Blue City That Feels Like a Deep Breath
From Fes we headed north to Chefchaouen, the famous blue city, and the vibe instantly changed.
If Fes is electricity, Chefchaouen is lavender oil.
Quiet, calm, slow, cool.
Every shade of blue imaginable. Powder blue, sky blue, sapphire, turquoise.
It’s a place where you wander rather than walk.
We hiked up to the mosque for sunset, came back down, got gloriously lost in the blue alleyways, and eventually stumbled into a tiny square where we sat drinking mint tea under fairy lights.
It was peaceful and lovely and exactly what we all needed after days of full-on sightseeing.
Rabat & the Hassan II Mosque: Morocco’s Unexpected Grandeur
After Chefchaouen we headed toward Casablanca, with a stop in Rabat, the capital.
Rabat is polished, calm, organised and unlike most of the Morocco I’d experienced, in that it didn’t have much character. It was more modern and more structured, like the country’s sensible older sibling.
Casablanca was similar in that it didn’t really ‘wow’ me. We explored the city later that evening and came across ‘Rick’s Cafe’ from the movie ‘Casablanca’ which was unfortunately full.
However, as it turns out it’s a replica! It was built in 2004. The original Casablanca wasn’t even filmed here. (Hollywood strikes again.)
The real show-stopper came later: the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca.
I’ve seen a lot of architecture in my life, but this was on another level.
It rises out of the Atlantic like a marble palace with a minaret so tall it feels like it touches the sky. Inside, the craftsmanship is jaw-dropping.
Built between 1986 and 1993, it was crafted by thousands of Moroccan artisans using marble, wood, tilework, stucco, and all painstakingly carved or assembled by hand.
Even if Casablanca didn’t stop me in my tracks, the mosque alone made the stop worthwhile.
Marrakesh: Beautiful, Bonkers, Loud, Colourful, and Completely Unmissable
Finally, we circled back to Marrakesh, where I’ve been writing this post.
Marrakesh is fabulously… nuts.
Vibrant, messy, colourful, loud, full of life.
If Fes is a maze, Marrakesh is a carnival.
Yes, there are more tourists.
Yes, you’ll be asked for money if you so much as look at your camera.
Yes, the main square is wild.
But the energy is infectious, the colours are intoxicating, the Hammams are definitely worth a visit.
And even though the tour has finished and I am alone in the city, I feel safe, welcomed, and endlessly fascinated.
As a solo female traveller, I can say with full confidence: Morocco has been nothing but warm and generous from start to finish.
What Morocco Has Taught Me About Travel (and Myself)
I’ve been thinking a lot about all those blog posts I read before coming here. The ones describing Morocco as intense, aggressive, unsafe, overwhelming. And I’m genuinely sorry that some travellers have had those experiences. Every trip is personal, every moment shaped by timing, energy, circumstance, and sometimes pure luck.
Maybe the difference is that I’m older now and don’t attract quite as much unwanted attention. Maybe it’s because I travel with my shoulders down and my head up. Maybe it’s because I say “Salam” with a big smile. Or maybe Morocco is simply far kinder, softer, and more open-hearted than the internet ever gives it credit for.
Whatever the reason, my experience has been the complete opposite of what I’d feared.
And if I’m being really honest, after Italy and Spain, the contrast has been welcome.
In Italy, once my sister left, I may as well have been invisible. In Spain I walked into restaurants alone and felt like the staff were thinking, “Bless her, poor thing, abandoned by her family.”
But in Morocco?
I’ve had more friendly attention in two weeks than I’ve had in the last five years. Even if half the smiles were because someone wanted me to buy a wallet, a scarf, a teapot or the entire shop… as a woman in her 50s, it was surprisingly lovely to be noticed again. 😂
And at no point did I feel like I was about to be traded for a camel — or ten.
(Though if someone had offered….)
My Advice for Travellers — Especially Solo Women
Morocco should be near the top of any bucket list. It’s diverse, spectacular, rich in culture, packed with history, and full of warm, helpful, funny people who genuinely want you to enjoy their country.
If you’re a female solo traveller and you’re feeling unsure, start with a tour.
You’ll ease into the rhythm, learn the ropes, get your bearings, and build confidence before exploring on your own. It’s the perfect middle ground between caution and curiosity.
I’m not going to say Morocco is 100% safe. Nowhere is, and travel is never a guarantee.
But in my experience, I’ve felt safe, supported, welcomed, and looked after from the moment I arrived. And I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to return on my own.
And Speaking of Returning…
My husband is a massive football fan, so we’ve already decided: we’ll be back for the 2030 World Cup, cheering from the stands and exploring even more of this incredible country. And honestly? I can’t bloody wait.
The Real Lesson?
Travel advice is useful. Due diligence is smart. Listening to other people’s stories is important.
But none of it replaces what happens when your feet hit the ground.
Morocco has reminded me, again, that the world is rarely what the internet says it is.
It’s bigger, warmer, kinder, and far more human than the comment sections ever admit.
So if you get the chance to come here? Take it.
Let Morocco tell you its story. Not the blogs, not the YouTube videos, not the strangers on the internet.
Because the only way to really know a place…
is to show up.
Where in the world has surprised you the most? Comment below I’d love to hear your stories!
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This is so inspiring; thank you!!
Great writing. We (wife and I) love Morrocco and have made it our base (Agadir) after selling up in the UK. Super chilled slightly shy cousin of the other big cities. Second base hopefully is going to be Thailand. All the best