03 February, 2020
Morocco
was the first place in which I travelled far from occidental
culture, and it has left me with many rich, happy memories.
Landing in Marrakech,
I was confronted by the city’s chaos and dynamism. Somehow, it
reminded me of
Naples, where I was born. A salmon-pink colour saturated its
streets and those of the surrounding villages. This is the Red
City, a place that borrows the hue of the rusty Atlas Mountains,
which I would cross later in my journey.
What struck me most about Marrakech
was its contrasts. The Medina thrummed with activity, and yet I
found silent gardens tucked away. Bright, bold mosaics were
softened by the warm shades of the houses. The red Moroccan flag
stood out against the blue sky.
Morocco’s landscapes are an extension of its capital’s vivid
magic. I would go on to visit the blue port city of
Essaouira and the burnt-brown Zagora Desert. I felt saturated
with curiosity.
