Missed the first part of the journey?
[Read Part One – From Casablanca to the Sahara here.]
Our next stop was Todgha Gorges, where the rock walls rise straight up, nearly 400 meters on either side. The space feels impossibly vertical, like you’re walking through a split in the earth. We were really just passing through—just enough time to stretch our legs and take a walk along the road where the canyon narrows.
There were vendors set up all along the cliff walls, their brightly colored scarves and textiles strung up against the orange rock. Some people walked barefoot through the shallow stream that runs through the gorge; others just stood quietly, taking it all in. Someone mentioned that a huge boulder had once fallen onto a hotel here—half the building is still wedged in the rock, like it belongs to the canyon now.
That evening, we arrived in Skoura, a quiet oasis town located between the Atlas Mountains and the desert. It’s known for its palmeraie—a vast palm grove dotted with kasbahs, gardens, and small villages. We stayed at Sawadi Ecolodge, which from the outside looked like a traditional kasbah—plain walls surrounding the property.
But once you stepped inside, it opened up into a quiet, green space with palm trees, gardens, and a pool in the center.We were welcomed—once again—with hot mint tea served on a silver tray.
I stayed in what they called a panoramic suite, but to me it felt like a little tower room. I had stairs leading up to my room and a private terrace overlooking the gardens and palm groves. It was simple but comfortable, and honestly, I loved it. The whole place felt peaceful and relaxed.
Meals were served outside on the patio, under a canopy of woven branches, with lanterns hanging down and bright-colored chairs pulled up to the tables. And being in the middle of a palmeraie, there were fresh dates at nearly every meal.
It was the kind of place where it was easy to slow down. I really loved everything about it.
At some point during our stay, I booked my third hammam of the trip—this one right on-site at the ecolodge. Sawadi Ecolodge had its own small hammam, set right in the gardens—a simple clay building with “Hammam & Massages” painted on the wall.
The next morning, we set out on a guided bike ride through Skoura’s palm groves. It was an easy, scenic ride, pedaling along dusty roads lined with palms and small family farms. We passed several old kasbahs along the way—some crumbling, others still lived in—and stopped to visit Kasbah Amridil, one of Morocco’s most iconic kasbahs (it even appears on the 50-dirham note). Touring the inside gave a glimpse of traditional architecture and what life was once like in the oasis.
After a picnic lunch in the shade, we biked back toward Sawadi Ecolodge. Just as we reached the outskirts, I saw a few women down by the river in front of the property, washing clothes by hand. Bright red fabrics were laid out to dry along the bank. It was one of those simple, everyday scenes that stays with you—a reminder of daily life continuing just beyond the guesthouses and gardens.
Inside, the treatment started in the steam room—a small, tiled space with wooden benches and buckets of warm water. After sitting there long enough to let the heat do its work (which supposedly opens your pores and releases toxins), I was led into the scrubbing room.
The scrubbing room looked like something out of a movie—bare, with a padded table in the center and a hose on the wall. Not exactly spa-like, but once the treatment began, none of that mattered.
Bare walls, a padded table in the middle, and a hose attached to the wall. Not exactly luxurious. But once the treatment started, none of that mattered.
She applied black soap all over, then gave me a proper head-to-toe scrub using a rough mitt, rinsing me off with bucket after bucket of warm water. She even washed my hair at the end. After all that steam, the scrub felt exactly right—like my skin was being reset.
When it was over, I was led back to the lounge area—a cozy little space with colorful couches, woven rugs, and a low brass table—where I sipped mint tea and just relaxed for a while. The setting may have been simple, but the treatment itself was excellent. I’d do it again without hesitation.
We left Skoura and drove to Ouarzazate, often called the “Gateway to the Sahara,” known for its dramatic landscapes and connection to Hollywood. We stayed at Oscar Hotel, which is part of Atlas Studios—where films like Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, and Kundun were shot. The hotel was lovely (maybe a bit fancier than I’d pick for myself), but it was a fun place to land for the night.
From there, we drove to Aït Benhaddou, a UNESCO-listed ksar that’s been used as a backdrop in everything from Game of Thrones to The Mummy. We climbed through narrow alleyways to the top of the hill, where the old granary—once used for communal storage—stood partially collapsed after the 2023 earthquake. The view from the summit was stunning: the mudbrick village below, green fields along the river, and desert hills stretching beyond.
We had lunch at Tawesna Salon de thé, a local women’s cooperative that began as a tea stand and grew into a full café. The food was simple and traditional, and eating there felt like a small but meaningful way to support the women who run it.
Later that afternoon, we walked through Atlas Studios itself. Some sets were clearly aging or half-dismantled, but that made it more interesting—especially after spending the day in places that looked like sets but were very much real.
(For more details, check out my full post: [A Day in Ouarzazate and Aït Benhaddou: Movie Sets, Mudbrick Walls, and Desert Views].)
After the desert and mountains, arriving in Essaouira felt like a change of pace. This laid-back coastal town on Morocco’s Atlantic coast is known for its sea breeze, historic ramparts, and blue-and-white color palette. The cooler ocean air was a welcome relief. We checked into Hotel Cote Ocean Mogador, and I started the stay with another hammam. By now, I was starting to see these as part of the routine—a good way to relax and reset. That evening, we had dinner on the rooftop terrace, overlooking the ocean.
We started the morning with a quiet horseback ride along the beach just outside Essaouira. It was my first time riding a horse on the beach, and to be honest, I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with horseback riding. I always want to like it more than I do—part of me is still a little nervous—but this ride was smooth, calm, and better than most. And I mean, come on—how often do you get to ride a horse along the coast of Essaouira, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean from Morocco? I had to do it.
Afterward, we returned to town for a walking tour that helped us get our bearings. We entered the medina through Bab Sbaa, the main gate, and followed Avenue Sidi Mohammed Ben Abdallah, the medina’s main street. It was lined with shops, small galleries, cafés, and corner stores. The whitewashed walls and bright blue doors gave everything a breezy, coastal feel. There were cats everywhere—napping in baskets, stretched out in doorways, or weaving between displays—and the smell of fresh bread drifted from small neighborhood ovens.
We made our way to the fish market, where we stopped for lunch at a tiny spot called Chez Brixi, known for its fresh fish. They also had a vegetable tagine on the menu, which worked out perfectly for me. From there, we walked down toward the harbor, passing rows of bright blue wooden boats and piles of fishing nets. Near the ramparts, we watched local boys launching themselves into the sea just past a weathered “no swimming” sign. It was one of those lively, slightly reckless moments that gives a place its personality.
From there, we continued toward the old citadel, built in the 18th century to defend Essaouira’s port. Cannons still line the ramparts, aimed out toward the Atlantic.
One of our final stops was a thuya marquetry cooperative, where artisans were carefully inlaying pieces of mother-of-pearl and shell into richly grained wood using tiny hand tools. The work was slow, precise, and beautiful—equal parts tradition and craftsmanship.
Later that evening, I had dinner at MBeach, a casual spot just across the street from my hotel, overlooking the beach. I ordered a mezze plate and a glass of wine—the staff couldn’t have been more attentive. It was the perfect way to end the day: simple, relaxed, and just right.
(For more details, check out my full post: [Essaouira: Morocco’s Laid-Back Coastal Gem].)
From Essaouira, we drove inland to Marrakech, a city known for its energy, architecture, and atmosphere. Located at the foothills of the Atlas Mountains, Marrakech has long been a trading hub and cultural crossroads—famous for its maze-like medina, lively souks, and the ever-busy Jemaa el-Fnaa square.
We checked into Riad Al Jazira, a peaceful spot tucked inside the old city. With its shaded courtyard and small pool, it felt like a calm retreat from the noise outside.
The next day, we explored the medina, stopping by Jemaa el-Fnaa, where the chaos of Marrakech was on full display—crowds moving in every direction, market stalls packed with goods, and the smell of spices and grilled food hanging in the air.
At one point, we stepped aside to let a donkey cart pass, and for a moment, it all felt slightly surreal—like I’d slipped into another time or wandered onto the edge of a film set. That feeling probably had something to do with the traditional dress many people were wearing. It gave the whole scene a kind of timeless quality, even in the middle of the noise and motion.
We had lunch on the rooftop of Zeitoun Café, then visited the Saadian Tombs, a quiet, historic site tucked behind high walls.
That night, we had our final dinner at Dar Zellij, a beautifully restored riad with excellent food and atmosphere—a perfect way to close out the trip. Afterward, we met up with a local artist who created henna designs on our hands—a perfect way to mark the end of our time together before everyone went their separate ways.
Marrakech was busy and full of energy, but also offered moments of calm and beauty. It was a lively and memorable place to end the journey.
(You can read more about my two days in Marrakech [here].)
Sadly, I had booked an early flight home, so I missed the tagine cooking class that the rest of the group enjoyed on our final day. From what I heard, it was a blast—and probably the perfect end to the trip. Instead, my last morning was spent packing up, saying my goodbyes, and heading to the airport. It felt like the trip had ended too soon, even after two weeks on the road.
By the time we reached Marrakech and said our goodbyes, I was struck by how much I’d seen and experienced in such a short time. From the ancient cities in the north to the sweeping dunes of the Sahara, the mountain roads of the Middle Atlas, and the quiet stretches of coastline along the Atlantic, it felt like I’d experienced so many different sides of Morocco in just two weeks.
In total, I spent about 15 days in Morocco, starting in Chefchaouen—the famous blue city—then moving through Casablanca, Fes, the Ziz Valley, and out to the Sahara. From there, we crossed the High Atlas Mountains and made our way west to Essaouira before wrapping up in Marrakech.
As I mentioned in Part 1, I was traveling with a small group through AdventureWomen, and I have to say—they did a great job putting together an itinerary that really gave me a taste of Morocco. We covered a lot of ground, but there was also space built in for free time, wandering, and soaking it all in. The days were long, especially on the road, but that’s to be expected when you’re trying to see so much in just two weeks. Morocco would’ve been perfectly doable as a solo traveler—and I’d happily come back that way—but sometimes it’s nice to let someone else do the planning.
All the places we stayed along the way were wonderful—comfortable, welcoming, and thoughtfully chosen. But the riads were something else entirely. Just stepping through the door from a busy street into a quiet courtyard felt almost magical—suddenly there were trees, tiled floors, and the sound of water. Riad Al Jazira in Marrakech felt like a true retreat: quiet, shaded, and a world away from the medina outside. And Ryad Zahrat Fes had its own warmth and traditional beauty, with carved woodwork, mosaic tile, and a cozy, home-like feel. Those stays reminded me how much I value quiet, beautifully crafted spaces—especially while traveling.
Somewhere between the mountains and the coast, I developed a mild obsession with dates and olives. Another woman and I made a habit of polishing off every olive bowl at the table. No one else seemed to mind—more for us.
And the hammams? By my fourth one, I was hooked. I stuck with semi-private experiences, but I never braved the public ones—maybe next time.
Hi, I’m JoAnne—writer, wanderer, and lover of places that surprise me. I’ve traveled to 60+ countries (and counting), usually with a camera in one hand and a notebook in the other. I’m drawn to mosaics, markets, and mountains, and I write to remember what moved me. When I’m not traveling, I’m working on my blog Travels Afoot, trying new creative projects, or planning my next adventure.
