A couple of weeks ago, I traveled completely on my own for the first time to Essaouira (eh-soo-weh-ra), Morocco. It’s a small, peaceful fishing town along the southern coast that I’d heard great things about. The week leading up to it, I was nervous but equally excited. I’m typically the kind of person who’s fine doing what other people choose to do, so I had no idea how I’d behave on my own. It was as if my future self was an unknown phenomenon I had to hypothesize about, experiment with, and then draw conclusions from. It’s safe to say I was very pleased with the results.
The highlight of my trip was surfing. I’d never been before, so I spent a good amount of my budget on a two-hour lesson. I showed up at 10 a.m. along with a group of three girls from Spain. Throughout the lesson, we took turns encouraging each other, laughing at our failures, and cheering when one of us managed to stand up on the board (which wasn’t very often). After the lesson, when we’d peeled off our wetsuits and rinsed the sand from our hair, I joined them for lunch at a nearby café. They talked about their vacation agenda and their home city of Madrid; I told them about living and studying in Morocco, and even taught them a few words in Darija! After paying and going our separate ways, I was happy that I’d been forced to talk to them.
Overall, I loved learning to surf. It’s a crime that I was born and raised in a completely landlocked state. I was having so much fun and was so determined that I returned the very next day for rental equipment. It was a liberating feeling to do all of that with the only reason being: “because I felt like it.”
Once I made it back to my hostel, I met the girl in the bunk below me. She was from Greece and was spending the month backpacking around Morocco. She initiated some small talk that ended up becoming an in-depth discussion about different Moroccan cities and what living in Greece is like compared to the United States. She was also by herself, so there were a few times that we chatted in the room, over street food, or while watching the sunset. I did still spend a vast majority of my time alone, but it was nice to meet someone from somewhere else. I wouldn’t have had those conversations with her or the three Spanish girls if I had my own travel buddy to talk to.
Just like how I impulsively took that surfing lesson—then impulsively spent much of the following day back in the water—I took an hour-long walk to some palace ruins on the other side of the river. I went directly after my second surfing endeavor and would’ve felt incredibly guilty dragging someone else along, especially after multiple hours of physical exertion. I probably wouldn’t have even suggested it in the first place. However, I only had myself to worry about. I was tired, of course, but fine enough, so I started walking.
The ruins were far away from the beach and medina, so there was hardly anyone along the way besides the occasional car full of locals. It was broad daylight, and I was completely out in the open, so I put in my earbuds and dance-walked the entire hour there. I looked like a complete idiot, I’m sure, but Essaouira has such strong 1989 (Taylor’s Version) vibes that I couldn’t resist. It would be even more strange—and a little rude—if I did that amongst a group of friends. So, I was thankful for my solo time in this instance, too. I highly recommend skipping and strutting across a Moroccan bridge for an hour while blasting Taylor Swift. The ruins themselves were cool, especially since you’re able to go in and walk or climb around. Surprisingly, though, I think the highlight of that excursion was the ~120 minutes of walking.
Besides those two activities, the rest of my time was spent wandering around the souks of the medina and surrounding areas. “Medina (مدينة)” in Arabic means “city,” and when referring to a medina, I’m talking about the old or historical part of a greater city. Today, they’re filled with residences, restaurants, souks (markets), riads (temporary housing), and permanent residences. The Essaouira medina was quaint and easier to navigate than other cities’ I’d been to. Don’t get me wrong, I still got lost several times, but I found my way quickly. It was nothing like Casablanca or Fes, where my escape was either thanks to a local or an American tour group, respectively. This one was also unique due to the consistent prevalence of fish. Stands selling freshly caught fish and eels occupied every street. It took a bit to get used to the smell, but it was fun to see people purchase a fish and have it cooked by another stand nearby. I didn’t try this myself, but I still had plenty of seafood during my time there, don’t worry.
Right outside the walls of the medina were the ramparts and marina. It was like nothing I’d seen in Morocco before or elsewhere, even in photos. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but the condensed collection of tiny blue boats paired with the vibrant tan walls, the line of medieval oxidized-green cannons, and the expansive ocean was so distinct to this single place. It was its very own kind of beautiful. The ramparts themselves are well known as a filming location for a Game of Thrones episode. I haven’t watched the show, but I understand that decision. The site’s medieval history and militaristic structure give it a very cinematic feel. This is why I decided to sit on one of the walls just off the water and watch the sun set over the ramparts and rocky ocean shore. I sat there by myself and began to sketch what I saw, accompanied only by my thoughts and the sounds of seagulls and waves. I didn’t feel pressure to entertain or converse with anyone, and I wasn’t anxious about whether someone else was hungry, tired, or wanted to leave. I knew what everyone needed, because I was everyone.
I think I’d like to be everyone more often. I wouldn’t have met the people I met or done things the way I did if I had company. I loved every single group trip I’ve taken with my friends over the past few months and wouldn’t change a thing about them—but I’m so incredibly happy that I saved space for alone time. I’d highly recommend it to anyone.

