I have been travelling my whole life to all sorts fo places, so I would describe myself as an experienced traveller. However, last fall my partner and I travelled to Morocco and I actually experienced a culture shock. So how could that happen?
Why travel to Morocco?
A few months earlier my partner and I started talking about where to spend our remaining holidays for the year. First we talked about Egypt, because my partner had never been and had recently developed an interest in going there through a video game he was playing that was set there. Since I learned, that Yoga was already practiced in Ancient Egypt, not only India, and that there was evidence of it in some temples, I was keen to visit Egypt again with a fresh eye.
The alternative at that point was to visit Iceland, because of its magnificent landscapes and the high possibility to see the Northern Lights. Also, it was a country neither of us had visited so far. However, both options turned out to be pricy to an extend we could not afford.
Hence, we were looking for a new destination with decent weather conditions in November that was worthwhile to visit for only ten days without becoming too expensive. So I was looking for destinations with reasonably priced direct flights available and found the Canary Islands or Croatia. And Morocco.
Uh, Morocco, I have always wanted to visit Morocco. Many of my friends and family had already been there and absolutely raved about their stay. My uncle loves the country so much he actually goes there for a few months every year since he discovered it as his dream destination. So after a little back and forth we decided to check it out and booked the flights.
Travel planning at its best
Once the flights were booked nothing else was organised for a pretty long period of time. I really wanted to do a trip into the Sahara desert, but did not want to support any tour operator doing camel rides without being sure that the animals were treated well. Of such tour operators I only found two, which at least seemed to care about such issues, but they were again out of our price range. So I booked nothing and left things hanging in the air.
Only about two weeks before our departure my partner finally booked accommodation in Marrakech and Essaouira while my uncle reserved us a room at his camping facility in Imsoumane thereafter. Everything else was still left open.
While both my partner and I each borrowed a travel guide about Morocco from a friend/family member, both of us found ourselves too busy in the weeks approaching our trip to actually read them. Let alone doing additional research on travel blogs and such, as I usually do. We both relied on the other and the general option to just “wing it” like so many of our friends appeared to have done before.
Finally our holidays started and we had one day to pack and organise ourselves before our flight. I did not want to take both of the travel guides so when I saw that one of them was missing I assumed my partner had packed it. Which he did, but not in his hand luggage, how I had expected, but his backpack, which he had checked in. So not even during the flight could we catch up on our reading about our destination.
Welcome to Morocco
Once landed in Marrakech, we were surprised to see the line in front of the passport control. It seemed endless and a turtle would have moved fast compared to it. So we stood in line for a whole two hours until we could finally pick up our luggage and get the transport to our accommodation. This transport was organised through our host at a Riad with a minivan until the border of the Medina and a luggage porter, who transported our backpacks in some kind of massive wheelbarrow.
We followed him over the busy Jemaa El-Fna Square, full of market stands, snake charmers and people with Monkeys on chains. I was petrified. I was not prepared to see those Monkeys. It immediately broke my heart.
There was no time for sentimentality, our luggage porter walked on fast. So we walked faster and from the square we entered an even more crowded alleyway. Sales people on either side and masses of tourists, locals, locals on motorbikes, and some more sales people alike pushing themselves through the middle. Everyone shouted at us to come to enter their shop or shoved their goods in our faces to make a purchase. The smoke of the motor bikes was making me dizzy.
After a while we took a turn in an almost deserted quite dark little alleyway and the adrenaline kept rising. Where the heck was he bringing us?
Finally, we arrived at an inconspicuous little door. It was opened by a young woman enthusiastically shoving us inside. She signalled us to have a seat in a small, but light-flooded courtyard. I took a deep breath. We had arrived.
The girl, gave us some forms to fill in and a folder of potential excursions we could do with them. She did not speak any English and I hardly know any French, so it turned out to be quite difficult to come to the most simple understandings.
I was so relieved when she finally signalled us to follow her to see our room. We did not have to go very far, however. We were dedicated the room right next to the courtyard, which was also the area in which breakfast would be served. Our room was nice, but the initial realisation that it did not have a window brough a flash of claustrophobia up in me. I could not breathe, this was just too much for me.
My partner told me to ask if they had a room with a window if this affected me so much, but again it was very hard to communicate with the lady until we resigned on this being the only room available. I felt suffocated, like the walls of the room were closing in on me. My head wouldn´t stop spinning.
Philipp then suggested that we go up to the rooftop terrace the receptionist had said the Riad had to get some fresh air. It took some convincing since I started feeling sick at that point, but in the end I followed him upstairs. And what a relief that was. The sun, the fresh air, and the peace and quite that greeted us up there was absolutely marvelous. I could breath again!
I lay down on one of the sun loungers available and relaxed. And then it dawned on me: I just had a culture shock. The square, the turmoill and even the room without windows made a whole lot of sense once I looked at it from a distance.
Cultural understanding
With the houses so closely stuck to each other, it seems natural that there are a lot of rooms without windows. And in the summer, those are probably even the more endurable ones to stay in as they would stay rather cool. It all made sense.
While still slightly out of sorts I realised I´ve had had a culture shock, above all due to a lack of preparation. Had I read about Morocco and put in the work, I might have still felt irritated a bit upon arrival, but I am certain I would not have felt this bad.
Upon my return to Germany I talked to some colleagues and friends about Morocco and it turned out I had not been the only one who had had this experience. Due to the fact that Morocco is only about four hours by plane a lot of people are not prepared for the actual difference in culture and lifestyle. I myself definitely learned from my mistake.
Have you had a similar experience at some point in your life? How did you deal with your culture shock? Share your thoughts with me in the comments!
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