Most amazing and potentially life changing experiences, I believe, cannot really be described to someone who was not there. Not in such a way that they would understand intricately the emotions, the smells, the sounds, the thoughts.
The tale of a travel bug can be summed up in a few short words, and after this left to the readers imagination.
Morocco, and more specifically, Marrakech is a world like no other. Even the people that live there say so... They said things like to me 'Marrakech, huh?', with a knowing smile on their faces. They said 'So, how do you find Marrakech?" My reply? 'Yeah.' They looked at me with interest. They have seen it before - tourists overwhelmed and overcome by the busy-ness of a cacoon of craziness.
The day My Guy and I arrived in Marrakech, it reached 46 degrees celcius. It was as if I had stepped into a rather large furnace - complete with sweat and dust. Sweat and dust in every. single. orifice. This traveller was not built for heat - no siree.
When leaving the safety of the airport, I was quickly struck by the realisation that I had stepped off a cliff, and there was nothing for it but to hope Morocco would save me. The heat was oppressive, but not only that - I was assaulted by an insult of noise, of smells, of people.
And all the time a smile on my face. What have I done. Where am I?
The traffic consists not only of cars, trucks and buses - you know, the usual methods of transport. We also lurched violently past donkeys and horses with carriages and trailers. We danced past pushbikes and small motorbikes with whole families on them, or bags of flour so big the driver couldn't see over the top. There are no markings on the roads, and yet there is no beeping save for the friendly toot which says 'look out, I'm about to pull in front of you so don't hit me.'
The buildings are large and yet the faded teracotta colours mean they blend into the background. They are unassuming - no one separate from another, or more obvious. Actually it's the people that stand out. They are the ones that catch your eye, that beckon you to look a little harder.
My Guy and I sat quietly in the backseat of our taxi (pre-booked - we'd been warned about local taxi drivers' tricks...). There were no words to speak, as we reached silently across the seat and touched little fingers. Just enough to remind us that we were here, together - that we would always have this moment.