a window to life

morocco opened my heart again.
it opened my heart to the mystery, to the unknown, to myself. it also opened my heart to the uncomfortable. (yes, you read that right!) after avoiding discomfort as much as I could it showed me the beauty in it again. the beauty in just being where I am, just being with myself fully.

I was in morocco for two weeks that felt very long and very short at the same time. I arrived at the airport at night, a little scared and very exhausted. my taxi driver, an elderly man picked me up there with a sign with my name on it. somehow I didn’t expect him to speak french.

he took me through marrakech and on that thirty minute ride I felt as though I had seen everything – palaces, camels, horses, donkeys, cats, the narrowest streets I could possibly imagine, lavish plants and flowers in what seemed to be otherwise desert, the tall city walls that spoke of their own secrets.
I was in awe and I thought to myself: how did I get here?

that morning I had woken up in berlin and now suddenly I was in a dream. exhausted and sleep deprived and very excited.
I arrived at my airbnb, more narrow streets that felt so unfamiliar and impossible to navigate on my own. and suddenly I was in my own little room, all by myself, once again wondering:
how did I get here?

the whole journey hadn’t been the easiest for me. I had avoided discomfort for a while. I had avoided crowds of people because they made me uncomfortable. (and I did that for a while)
I had avoided flying because it scared me. I had avoided the sun because after a heatstroke a while ago being exposed to the sun made me feel unsafe. I had avoided travelling, the unknown, anything that scared me. and believe me, those were a lot of things.

and suddenly I was here, in morocco, by myself, in a foreign city of this sunny foreign country with no one but myself to lean on. what a wonderful way to grow.

so yes, it wasn’t the most comfortable. and at night I told myself that I’d just give it a try for a few days and if I didn’t like it, if I couldn’t handle it, I would just fly back home. no worries.
I really wasn’t sure about all of it but I decided to try anyway. because I love life and there’s no point in living in fear.

I stayed in marrakech for a few days. on the first day I met the family I lived with. they were all sitting together in the living room and one of them was playing music. I woke up from the sound of a violin and I just had to come downstairs, still sleepy, to ask if I could join them. I sat there for hours, we sang together and shared some meals, the whole family was together and it was incredibly loving and kind.

when I went to bed on that first day I already felt at home. and by the time I left marrakech a few days later I had fallen in love with the family.

on friday morning I travelled to essaouira. I didn’t manage to book the tourist bus and so I was on the local bus that stopped at every corner.
the landscape of morocco bewitched me. it was so beautiful, so different from the places I had been, so different from home.

I arrived in essaouira sleep deprived but content. it was cooler than marrakech, windy, full of seagulls and the smell of the sea. the seagulls reminded me of home. it was smaller as well, more walkable, less scary at night. I walked the first part of the way with a german woman I had met on the bus.

I was so tired and happy to have arrived – after a while of searching my airbnb I finally found it hidden in a narrow street in the medina.
I slept for a while and when I woke up I had to convince myself to get outside. after all I was still tired, exhausted, the temperature was still a bit unfamiliar to me and so were the narrow streets packed with people.

I wasn’t used to being approached by people anymore. after spending the last year mainly isolated it was somehow an entirely new experience once again.
although I dressed modestly I was constantly approached by men in the streets.

it was my first time going outside in essaouira. after only a few minutes of walking on the main street someone approached me – a man who noticed a little hand stitched detail on my tote bag.  no one has noticed that detail before. he asked me about it and I told him that I stitched it a few years ago. he proceeded to tell me that he was an artist as well, that he had some galleries nearby that I could come visit.

he took me to his gallery, showed me around and looked at some of my art. I was delighted to have met another artist so easily. I asked him about a good place to get falafel and he invited me to have tea on the rooftop of his gallery.

he left me there to overlook the city. the sun was already setting, hundreds and hundreds of seagulls around, the terrace lovingly decorated with cacti and little carpets.
he returned with mint tea for me as well as a pastry and – I couldn’t believe my eyes at first – a handful of tinfoil that contained warm falafel. he brought me a blanket and water and left me to look at the sunset by myself.

what a warm welcome to this interesting place I thought to myself. looking back to my time in morocco I can say that I always felt very cared for, no matter where I was.

the next few days I spent arriving in essaouira, arriving at that version of myself that was finally out there and travelling again, getting used to these entirely different surroundings.

the man I met on the first evening asked me to see him again. he wanted to cook a traditional moroccan meal for me. I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to agree. I made a lot of art, I wrote, I strolled through the streets and took in the magic of the place.

I still felt introverted. I didn’t feel like I belonged into the crowds of people. I needed more space for myself and to work with my clients and so I didn’t stay in hostels as I did in the past – with the side effect that I didn’t just meet new people all the time.

one of these days I needed help with something and so I texted the man from my first evening again. he was happy to help me and invited me to come to a nearby celebration that only takes place once a year.
I had just come back from a walk and decided that that would probably be the better alternative to taking a nap – so I agreed to meet him.

he took me to his car and we drove out of town. we drove for a while, warm air and deserted landscapes with little trees that desperately seemed to need more water and me in the car wondering whether or not it was a good idea to join him. I told him I was not looking to date someone, I was only looking for friends. he accepted but I don’t think he understood.

the celebration ended up being further away than I thought – we drove almost for an hour before arriving to a small village that was incredibly packed with people. I was the only tourist there.
there was a tent with hundreds of people waiting to enter, a parking space with all sorts of vehicles parked together so narrowly that it seemed impossible for any of them to come out, market stalls selling toys and jewellery and nuts and dried fruit and anything one can imagine.

horses painted with henna, music at the little corners, a few streets solely with little barber shops in self made tents. he got some dried salted chickpeas for us and we walked through the people for a while.

we returned back to the city and I was happy to be by myself again. I took another walk through the medina and decided that the unexpected event had been enough social interaction for the rest of the day. so instead of going out to eat I bought myself a bread and an avocado in the streets and planned to eat that alongside some olive oil and salt in my airbnb.

when I returned I found my host sleeping in the living room and although I softly spoke to him to wake him up he kept sleeping. I returned to my room to find that the internet had been switched off. so I sat in my room in the darkness and wondered what I should do with this situation and the evening and my dinner. I started eating some of the bread without avocado, checked my phone again just to see that at that very moment the guy had messaged me again inviting me to dinner.

I asked him about one of the traditional dresses many men were wearing – the djellaba – with its pointy hood it reminded me of a magician, of ancient times, if anything to be compared with things people wear for festivals in germany. I was fascinated, I loved it.

after the celebration he took me to his house in the countryside. it was still being built, it was huge. white walls and fig trees all around. one of his workers came with tea he had prepared – sweet mint tea made from rainwater. it was the softest tea I’ve ever tasted.

I was tired and we returned home. although I made my intentions more than clear they didn’t seem to be all too clear to him. he didn’t do anything that made me feel unsafe – but still, he tried to hold my hand and no matter how many times I refused he kept trying.

it wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t what I wanted either. perhaps most of you, most of the women I know have had experiences like this – although I didn’t feel threatened my nervous system couldn’t relax. and I actually love a relaxed nervous system.

we returned back to the city and I was happy to be by myself again. I took another walk through the medina and decided that the unexpected event had been enough social interaction for the rest of the day. so instead of going out to eat I bought myself a bread and an avocado in the streets and planned to eat that alongside some olive oil and salt in my airbnb.

when I returned I found my host sleeping in the living room and although I softly spoke to him to wake him up he kept sleeping. I returned to my room to find that the internet had been switched off. so I sat in my room in the darkness and wondered what I should do with this situation and the evening and my dinner. I started eating some of the bread without avocado, checked my phone again just to see that at that very moment the guy had messaged me again inviting me to dinner.

I thought about it for a split second, then I told myself „fuck it“ and texted him that I’d be ready to meet him in 10 minutes.
I got ready to go out again, put away my bread and started walking to meet him. he was very happy to see me and as I greeted him he handed me a bag. before opening it I already knew what was inside of it.

in the hour I spent walking through the streets he had been to the tailor to get me a djellaba. although nothing like that had happened to me before it somehow didn’t surprise me. I didn’t reciprocate any of his interest and still he was eager to show me his affection through these material things.
we went to his home which was beautifully built by him and he proceeded to prepare tea, water and dried fruits and nuts for me. I could’ve been comfortable – if only there hadn’t been this hint of longing in the way he tailored everything to my needs.

I told him it was too late for me to have dinner. he was visibly upset. from that moment I knew that I would leave the situation as fast as possible and that I wouldn’t return.

before I left he asked me to come live with him. he promised to get the stars from the sky for me. everything would be taken care of, all of my needs met, if only I stayed with him. he would fly me out to thailand tomorrow if I asked him to, I would live like a princess.
I told him I wasn’t interested in any of that and left. no one had ever offered to buy me and I knew that I couldn’t be bought, no matter the offer.

he seemed heartbroken as I left. I returned home, confused, irritated, moroccan looking with my djellaba on. definitely a first.

my first few days in essaouira I spent getting used to it. the crowded streets, the vendors constantly approaching me, hands pulling me into the stores, the sun, the new environment. I didn’t sleep too well. I felt lonely.
on the third day or so I discovered a small café close to my home – the essaouira soul café. it became my little sanctuary, my safe space in the chaos.
I would sit there and paint watching the vibrant life go by on the streets.
the café was usually full but not too full. in the mornings the cats would be laying on the chairs, sometimes all three of them cuddling together.

the men who run the café would wake them up for the customers to take their seats. so gently, so lovingly.
watercolour paintings on the walls of the café, fresh mint tea, usually there would be at least one other artist there. from the first time I came by I felt at home.

in the morning I would roam through the streets with my sketchbook and find a motive to draw, then I would spend the next few hours adding watercolour in my sweet café. every time I sat there people asked me about my art and showed me theirs. some days I spent most of my time there, painting, observing, chatting with the people, doing nothing at all with other strangers that were doing the same. I always felt very at peace.

one of these days I met karolina again, the woman I had met on the bus to essaouira. although the medina of essaouira really isn’t the biggest place we hadn’t seen each other again since then. the first time we didn’t connect immediately but this time it clicked. she offered to take out money for me (my card wasn’t working once again) and we found out that we were literally staying across the street from each other.

we met again later that day and had food together, she had been to essaouira yearly for the past few years and introduced me to a lot of kind people. upon walking we met more people from her hostel, some of them I had seen and briefly spoken to in the streets. we joined them for a little walk and then returned home where she showed me her hostel.

I had also spoken to the hostel staff before. the first few days I struggled with the lock of my place and they often saw me coming home at night. I ended up chatting with them for a few more hours and joining them for a night walk through essaouira. for the first time in those days I was reminded how easy it was for me to connect with people and how much I actually enjoyed it.

the next morning I said goodbye to karolina at my favourite café and continued with the routine I had created for myself – strolling through the streets, occasionally stopping for some mint tea, finding inspiration in the exceeding beauty of that place and painting. I’ve also had clients most of the days and so my days were pretty full.

my friends from the hostel invited me over for dinner the next few nights. they prepared tajin, a traditional moroccan meal of veggies and different meat cooked in clay pots. one night we were more than 20 people eating tajin and bread and salad together in a big circle. and again I felt very at home. my need for more kind social interactions was met in the most charming and perfect way. the people from the hostel were all lovely, kind, sweet. at night there was some music and dancing and after all the walk to my bed was just a minute, so it was truly perfect for me. in the hostel I also felt free to wear some of my regular clothing for the first time in morocco which was very relieving. don’t get me wrong, I absolutely don’t mind dressing more modest than I already usually do. but no matter how covered I was I still received unwanted attention.

some of it was sweet, some of it flattering, most of it was simply annoying and too much. so I thoroughly enjoyed feeling safe enough to just be myself and express myself in the way I’d like to.
I spent my nights at the hostel, sang ‚tuyo‘ (the narcos theme song) for the staff as they were counting the money. I started another painting in the middle of the night as I knew the owner of the soul café would love to add one of my paintings to his collection.

after a few days I finally followed the recommendation of my airbnb host to try out a little nearby restaurant and after the first time going there I returned every day. the place is called baghdad, a charming small restaurant three walking minutes from where I stayed. if you visit essaouira I truly recommend you to go there. all of the dishes are freshly made and they’re made with so much love. the people are warm hearted and most times I’d go there they’d pick up the freshly baked bread for my meal just as I arrived.
I tried lots of different salads, couscous, other vegan foods. safe to say I loved them all.

I returned to marrakech. I had to, I had fallen in love with the family I stayed with there. ask me about them – you’ll find them on airbnb.
I had fallen in love with the warmth and connection. with the sense of togetherness, the lightheartedness, the laughter.

mainly I had fallen in love with a sense of family and community that doesn’t seem to exist in my culture in the same way. this life that evolves around the family. upon returning home I thought about the role of women in western societies a lot. but that’s another story.

I returned to marrakech and found it as vibrant and chaotic as I had left it. it felt a little more familiar. I met karolina again and we went to a lovely restaurant with another italian friend from her hostel. again I felt how different it was to explore these streets with other travellers. I fell more in love with marrakech that night, I felt at home, like there was no other place I’d rather be.
I laughed a lot in these last days. I met karolina at her hostel which was again only a few walking minutes from where I stayed. and again the hostel staff invited me to stay for breakfast, not just one day but every day, even after karolina had left.

my last days in morocco were sleep deprived and beautiful. they were sweet and bittersweet as well. I’ll keep them in my heart.

morocco gave me what I wanted, what I needed and more. I once again realised how comfortable I can be in the uncomfortable. how little it is that I actually need. morocco opened my heart again to the world, to the small things, to the sometimes confusing chaotic flow of life.

I came here being scared of the world. I left relieved, reassured, with a grateful heart. I left with a sad heart as well. maybe you wouldn’t expect it but I am not the best at letting go.

now some things inevitably belong together, like marrakech and the birdsong, the prayer in the morning and the sound of a violin.
morocco, you took my heart in ways I didn’t expect. you gave me what I asked for as well as what I didn’t ask for. your beautiful chaotic complicated country has a place in my heart, a place I’ll remember with lots of love.