Exploring Essaouira on My Own Terms

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.

Listen to Your Locals!

Independence and self-reliance are two qualities I’ve valued for as long as I can remember. Today, I like to consider myself to have a decent amount of both. I was raised by a mom who always encouraged me to make my own decisions and gave me the responsibility of acting on them. With her careful guidance in discovering my own judgment, I feel very secure in the choices I make and the person I am today. However, as a side-effect, I suffer from a severe case of “I can do it myself” syndrome. This isn’t usually a problem and is enjoyable in most cases– such as picking up new hobbies. I’ve taught myself to crochet, skateboard, paint, and right now I’m trying to figure out the guitar. I like it this way and it’s always worked out– but that changed the moment I emerged from the Casablanca airport, and falsely gave my capabilities more credit than they deserved. My self-reliance has always been defined by American standards, and the fact that I wasn’t living in the U.S. anymore changed that definition.

The first moment of realization came when we were planning a weekend trip to Chefchaouen. Known as the Blue City, it’s nestled within the Atlas Mountains and awkwardly situated away from major roads, rail stations, or convenient bus routes. My roommates—Anna, Jaci, and I (Hi!! They read my blog)—took charge of planning transportation, organizing tickets and transfers, and getting everything under control.

Some pictures from our excursion to Rabat!

Luckily, we hadn’t made any purchases before mentioning our plans to one of our program directors, Oussama. His reaction was not what we expected: “Are you joking?!” he asked, disbelief plastered on his face.

…Not exactly the response we wanted. But this also meant Oussama had a simple, not-complicated-at-all solution to our problem, right? Wow! We were silly for not seeing it sooner!

Wrong. As it turned out, the best way to get to Chefchaouen from Meknes was also complex—and something we couldn’t have figured out on our own: a series of public taxis from one station to another. And then another. We had dismissed the idea of taxis early on, assuming they were too expensive based on pre-booked private taxi prices. But by following Oussama’s advice, we reached our destination without breaking the bank.

Transportation became another hot topic of discussion during my voyage from Meknes to Madrid. I love living in Meknes, and my only issue with the city is that we don’t have an airport. If we want to fly, we must take a train to another city: one hour to Fes, two hours to Rabat, or four to Tanger. So, here I was, on the train to the Rabat airport when I got a text from Jaci: “I don’t know what your plan is, but Hamid (our Arabic professor) says you should get off at Salé Ville (Rabat’s sister city across the river) because it’s closer to the airport than going all the way to Rabat.” Unsurprisingly, Hamid did me a huge favor. Not only are Rabat taxis more expensive in general, but Salé was, in fact, significantly closer to the airport. I ended up paying 30 Moroccan Dirhams (~$3 USD) rather than 100-150, solely because I got off the train one stop earlier. Once again, I would never have thought to stop at Salé to get to the Rabat airport– but a Moroccan would!

I finally learned my lesson while trying to plan my weekend solo-trip to Essaouira (which I intend to write about shortly). Traveling by myself was a new idea to me, and I was excited by the independence and spontaneity that it proposed. I was going to choose what I wanted to do without any input from anyone else, because isn’t that what solo-travel is all about? I searched through blogs, articles, and AI-generated lists for the perfect Essaouira itinerary, but what I found was obsolete to me. Every option was either a.) an activity common to all Moroccan cities:

Madrid recap– I’d love to go back and see more of the museums, architecture and beauty that it’s known for!
  • Walk around the medina
  • Go to a traditional Moroccan hammam
  • Eat Moroccan foods

 or b.) expensive:

  • Book a camel ride
  • Take surfing or kite-surfing lessons
  • Wine-tasting at the Val d’Argan vineyard
  • Join a guided tour

While I love exploring the medinas, souks, and markets of different cities, I really wanted to experience everything unique to THIS city. I did cave and pay for a surfing lesson, but that occupied a significant percentage of my budget. I became frustrated because I knew why these were the only options showing up: I was searching in English and reading American/European blogs. They were directed at tourists only visiting one or two Moroccan cities on vacation, not for a student who’d been here for nearly three months. These itineraries are created to represent, not just the city, but Morocco as a whole. This is when I remembered that Essaouira is one of Oussama’s absolute favorite places, so I resolved to ask him. He was more than happy to help, and sent me a list of his favorite sights, live music, restaurants, and places to watch the sunset. I am incredibly thankful for his advice, and that I’d thought to ask for it.

I keep having to remind myself that independence doesn’t mean refusing help. Of course I knew that– its a lesson we’ve all been taught since elementary school– but tangible applications have made that lesson a lot more real. I’ve found that my values as an individual conflict heavily with the main purpose of studying abroad. I can’t fully embrace a different culture while ignoring the wisdom of those most familiar with it. Not only have I learned a lot about Morocco through this realization, but I’ve also learned about myself. Recognizing when I need help is another form of self-reliance, one I now aspire to cultivate. Even when I return to the U.S., where I’m more comfortable and knowledgeable, I want to keep pushing my ego aside and accepting help when needed. If you know me, you’re probably laughing at this because you know how much I struggle with it. But the truth is, asking for help doesn’t mean I’m losing my independence—it means I’m human.