The beginning: London and Morocco

I started my trip with a one way ticket—New York City to London—booked two weeks in advance and with a half assembled plan for my next two weeks. I spent the previous weekend saying goodbye to my home comforts in NYC, seeing my cousin for the first time since she moved to Brooklyn, visiting her bar Black Mountain Wine House, and seeing the wine bar that my best friend’s sister works at, Ardesia.

As I started to walk to the train that would take me to JFK, it started to flurry, and a light snow covered the city. Meanwhile, I was leaving it all behind for the grey of London sky and blue of Marrakech. I was lucky enough to end up with the whole row to myself on my red eye and preordered the vegan meal (my first airplane meal), had one gin and tonic, and passed out for the rest of the flight (my usual fashion). I arrived early in the morning to London, taking the Elizabeth Line for the first time (as I usually fly cheaply through Stansted).

24 hours in London. I made my way to St. Christopher’s London Bridge, where I reacquainted myself with Southwark and Borough High Street, and visiting my favorite cafe—Terry’s Cafe, and seeing some old friends. I ended up going to Vaulty Towers for drinks, spontaneously joining a pub trivia, finding myself at the Elephant and Castle Wetherspoons, and splitting a bottle of wine from Tesco (in classic British style).

After going out the night before, I wearily boarded a flight to Marrakech, Morocco, where my day seemed to get even crazier. The thing I didn’t know at the time was that I would be dropped at at 10 p.m. at the entrance to the Medina, no cell service and only vague maps to guide me to my hostel. Only a day in and I had seemingly got myself into the scenario that everyone told me not to end up in—walking alone at night in Marrakech. With wary help from a stranger (which ended about as well as expected), I made it to Earth Hostel and promptly passed out for the day.

Cash was the main problem for me, or therefore my lack of knowledge for the cash culture in Morocco. Not only did I not have a working ATM card but no cash of any kind (dummy). After a brief panic attack and a visit to a cafe that accepted card and had wifi, I was able to send myself money to pick up (THANK YOU WESTERN UNION) and was therefore able to pay for my hostel and the rest of my time in Morocco. My time in Marrakech was much like the Medina itself—winding and confusing, somehow stumbling upon the ideal experience.

My time at Earth Hostel was amazing. I ended up making friends who I would visit later in my travels, in Lucerne and Berlin (shoutout Paula and Dave for being the best travel buddies). I spent most of my time in Marrakech exploring the maze of alleyways that wrap around the center of the city. I think I started to get a hang of my directions the longer I walked around, but as a whole Marrakech is the most in awe I have ever been at the layout of a city. The quick traffic and narrow streets were the perfect setting for my own personal maze.

The weather in the beginning of February was perfect—70s or so—and I spent a lot of time outside walking or at a cafe with a coffee. As a trinket lover, I also enjoyed exploring the stalls in the Medina, and if I had more than two backpacks and five months ahead of me, I definitely would have bought ceramics and metal.