A touch and go flight in regards to time to get to Marrakech. I was twinkle toes down the sideline of a footy match in Casablanca airport trying to make my connecting flight. Turns out time zones exist in the world, something I had momentarily forgot about. Had an extra hour up my sleeve than I originally thought. Such a goose.

It’s funny sitting at an Arabic airport. I was the only Western person that I could see. Those with more olive skin than my own (everyone) were staring at me the way Westerners stare at those from the Eastern world when they are about to board a plane. Are they making assumptions about my actions and intentions from stereotypes they know of Westerners the same way we stereotype Muslims when they are waiting in an airport? I have no idea. I’m just different to them. In a sense, I’m the unknown. Naturally people are more cautious around the unknown.

Staring at the propellers in anticipation to board the private jet style stairs at the back of the plane, I wonder how the hell it is possible to get this big lump of metal in the air and then make it stay in the air. I can’t comprehend how it’s possible but I guess it must be. As long as it does what it’s intended; stay up and come down when it’s supposed to and stay in the sky in between, I don’t care about the science of it.

One of my first observations of Morocco was that all the parents on motorbikes were wearing helmets but the kids sitting in front or hanging on for their life behind weren’t. I’m definitely in a different world now.

Was really hungry when I got there so went to a market. All that seemed to be on the menu was spaghetti. It’s weird how every Arab country I’ve ever been to always offers spaghetti on their menu but always give you another meal. Never know what kind of noodles I’m ordering so whatever squiggles look the best is the pasta I usually choose.

Slept in a riad in the most uncomfortable bed ever. Laying flat made my back ache and every other position was just as sore. I had to lay towels on the bed to minimise the pain. I’ve slept on more comfortable slabs of concrete. At least it had a nice view of the city when the sun set.

It still boggles my mind that nobody in Marrakech knew the time. They have daylight savings at the beginning of summer but then cancel it during Ramadan. Nobody is quite sure exactly when daylight savings started back up again after the three day feast. Some said Saturday night, others said Monday morning and Google seemed to know best. An hour difference is a lot of time when you have to meet up for a tour or if you have other plans.

A last minute opportunity presented itself to do a private tour of Ouzoud waterfalls with a Dutch bloke staying in the same riad as me and a German and local Moroccan bloke. I asked Dutchy if anything seemed suss about this little arrangement and he didn’t seem to think so. He had never met the German bloke but they had a mutual friend through traveling. I decided just to roll with it. The German bloke is couch surfing at the Moroccan’s place. This was beneficial to me because it meant I got a private tour of a tourist infested waterfall from a local. And when I say tourist infested, it’s not quite what you think. These tourists had travelled from all parts of Morocco for their summer holidays to cool off in the torrents. Almost no Westerners hanging around these parts. Perfect!

Walking the streets at night, catching the joyful moods of local people now that Ramadan has finished. The three day feast has just finished creating the Moroccans to have extra energy. This means that they bug you even more than they would have last week to try and convince you they are your best friend so you’ll buy something from them. The most difficult part is trying to be patient if you aren’t used to it.