From Morocco with meatballs.

Before you start reading and get disappointed: no, there is no recipe for meatballs in this post. Go google! Just a little visual reminder of the dish I could have (or maybe did) eat every day:

I know I have been lazy, but I promise I will tell you stories of Morocco. Ever since coming back however I seem to lack energy. I blame it on my now again almost sugarless diet. It makes me grumpy and sleepy. But that shouldn’t concern you and you deserve stories. I did think about how and if one can squeeze two weeks full of magic, excitement, and enough mint tea for a year into a blog post. Or two. Or three. Or how many would it take? And in what order?
Chronologically? Makes sense. Then I would have to start with Casablanca though and as my travel companion Peter spelled it out nicely– Casablanca is a dive. We all got ripped off in the taxis and the only beautiful thing there to see is Mosque Hassan II, which closed due to Ramadan. I however almost managed to still get ripped off there as well (which I only realized later after borrowing someone’s French number chart and could figure out how much they wanted from me). Then a stranger asked me whether I was American and my immediate response was: Why? Am I fat? (Forgive me my wonderful, slim American friends! I don’t even know where that came from…I think it was my guilty conscious because of the sugar loaded mint tea.) My taxi driver later just stared at me when I told him I was from South Africa and declared: But you are not black! I refused to reply to that or tip him. Good about was the ice cream that night, though topped immediately by the one in Essaouira and Marrakech. So no, Casablanca was no good and chronologically is out.

Mosque Hassan II - Casablanca's one and only gem.

Maybe order of importance? I wouldn’t even now where to start, except to put Casablanca last on the list. It was definitely a highlight when the carpet shop owner told me I was beautiful and his assistant offered me 600 camels, which with a value of 10-30k/camel would make me quite bling in camel terms. Since nothing came of it though as I gracefully accepted the compliment, but declined the assistants offer, so it won’t make for a fulfilled story with happy end.
I also thought to just bail and not right anything with the excuse of the trip motto what happens in Morocco stays in Morocco. Then I thought everybody's dirty mind would just go crazy and in the end sharing is caring.
Lucky for you, I decided to just do what I do best and tell you random stuff about the trip. Stuff that I liked, loved, or had always dreamed of. Experiences I will remember for years to come and the little things that made this trip one of the bestest* in my life. So stay tuned for tales of the scary lady in the hammam, my no-shop stop in Marrakesh, scary cats in the desert, and how we had drinks with an STD…

*I am still aware that this is not a word. It should be though. I love it and it looks right to me. Sometimes there are situations when best just doesn’t cut it. Spell police, if you were there, you would understand.