Morrocco with Sole Sisters- Tara Romoff

Tara Romoff is an avid Rambler and world explorer. She was born in England, lived in Portugal as a young child, and then moved to Toronto, Canada, where she lived during her school years. After marrying her high-school sweetheart, she relocated to Chicago, USA, and raised her two kids. 

There are trips you plan carefully… and then there are trips that unfold in ways you couldn’t possibly predict.

Morocco was very much the latter.

From the moment I landed in Marrakech—without my luggage, no less (lost by the airline)—I knew I was going to need to lean into patience, flexibility, and a sense of humour. As it turns out, those three things carried me—and all of us—through the entire journey.

Arrival in Marrakech

My first introduction to Marrakech was through the quiet magic of entering our first accommodation: a riad. A riad is a traditional Moroccan house or palace built around a central courtyard or garden. The word comes from the Arabic riyad, meaning “garden.”

From the street, our riad was hidden behind an unassuming door set into what appeared to be a blank wall. But the moment we stepped inside, everything changed. Open-air courtyards, lush greenery, intricate tilework, and the gentle sound of water created a sense of calm that felt worlds away from the bustling streets outside.

It’s that contrast that defines Marrakech.

When our group of Sole Sisters gathered later that evening, there was the usual mix of excitement and curiosity. Our guide, Manale, quickly grounded us with warmth and confidence, and over dinner, the group began to find its rhythm. There were questions (many about money and tipping), a bit of laughter, and that early sense that this was going to be a good group.

Marrakech: Finding Our Pace 

Our first full day was a lesson in timing—and how easily it slips away.

Our group was a little late leaving the riad and so we missed our entry to the Jardin Majorelle. It was disappointing in the moment, but also one of those early reminders: sometimes things happen on every travel adventure, and we’d need to adjust as we went.

The visit to the Yves Saint Laurent Museum more than made up for it. Seeing how deeply Morocco influenced his work—the colours, the textures, the flowing silhouettes—gave us a new lens on everything we were seeing around us.

And then came the souks.

They’re impossible to fully describe, but I’ll try. Imagine narrow alleyway markets alive with movement—motorcycles weaving through pedestrians, vendors calling out, stalls overflowing with leather, spices, baskets, and textiles. It’s busy, but not aggressive. More like a kind of organized chaos that somehow works.

We were mesmerized. And yes… very tempted to shop.

Into the Atlas Mountains: A Shift in Perspective

Leaving Marrakech, we climbed into the Atlas Mountains, winding our way up through the Tizi n' Tichka pass. 

The landscape changed constantly—olive trees at the base, pine forests higher up, and stretches of rock in every shade of red and gold, dotted with wildflowers. What struck me most was how life exists there in ways you don’t immediately see. Villages are tucked into valleys, sustaining themselves through small-scale agriculture and livestock.

We learned from our local guide about the realities of life in these regions, including farming traditions that stretch back generations, the growing impact of climate change, and the increasing importance of tourism as a necessary source of income for many local families and communities.It was beautiful, yes—but also grounding.

Ait Ben Haddou

Our stop near Ait Ben Haddou gave us one of the most meaningful cultural experiences of the trip.

At a women’s rug cooperative, we learned how each carpet tells a story—through colour, pattern, and symbolism. The dyes come from plants, the designs reflect community identity, and the co-op itself provides not just income, but support. Women help each other finish rugs, navigate life changes, and maintain independence.

It was powerful in a quiet, matter-of-fact way.

We then explored the fortified village itself, which many recognized from films like Gladiator and Game of Thrones. Walking through the narrow passageways, climbing up through the ancient structures, and looking out across the surrounding landscape, it all felt incredibly cinematic and steeped in history.

We crossed the river to reach the ksar and made our way through its winding paths, taking in the beauty of the clay buildings as the light began to shift toward evening. Later, we shared a relaxed meal overlooking the village and even ventured out together to a lively local spot, which made for a fun and memorable end to the day.

While the accommodation here was more basic, it felt fitting for where we were—grounded in history, culture, and the experience itself.

A Reset in the Hills

Thankfully, the next stop gave us exactly what we didn’t even realize we needed.

As we arrived at the eco-lodge, you could almost feel it happen in real time—shoulders dropped, voices softened, and there was this collective exhale as everyone took in the surroundings.

Open space, lush vegetation, and a beautifully inviting pool area with lounge chairs scattered just so—it was peaceful in a way that immediately grounded us. After the previous night, there were a few quiet comparisons overheard, but mostly it was relief and appreciation for where we had landed.

We spent a couple of hours by the pool, easing into the slower pace. A few brave souls ventured in despite the chill and came out laughing, fully satisfied with their decision. The rest of us were just as happy to lounge, chat, and soak in the calm.

Back in our rooms, long hot showers felt like a luxury, and by the time we regrouped for dinner, there was a noticeable shift in energy. Some women had even dressed up a little, which made it feel like more than just a meal—it felt like an occasion.

Dinner itself was simple and delicious: a warming soup to start, followed by two beautifully spiced tagines, and a rich chocolate mousse to finish. Somewhere between courses, the conversation turned to food in a deeper way—what makes something authentic, and how different dishes evolve across cultures. 

We talked about shakshuka in particular, and how the version here is quite different from what many of us are used to—no eggs or feta, but instead a rich, pepper-based sauce made from peppers grilled over an open flame, skins removed, and served more as something to scoop up with bread.

As the evening unfolded, the conversations deepened. What had started as light chatter earlier in the trip was now moving into more meaningful territory—touching on religion, cultural differences, and the ways people live and believe across the world. There was curiosity, respect, and a willingness to listen, which made those conversations feel open rather than heavy.

It was one of those evenings where nothing particularly big happens, and yet everything shifts just a little.

The setting, the food, the conversations—it all came together in a way that quietly strengthened the group.

Rambling Together

The hike the following day was one of the highlights of the trip. We Rambled hills and valleys, learning about the land from a walking guide, and eventually arrived at his family's home. There, we were welcomed with tea and a meal prepared by the women of the household, served on a rooftop where we sat together on cushions, looking out over the landscape we had just walked.

Not everyone did the full hike—and that was part of what made it work. Some joined partway by car, others walked the entire route. What mattered wasn’t how you did it, but that you were part of it.

One of our oldest participants, at 82, completed the entire walk with the help of a borrowed walking stick. A quiet reminder that capability looks different for everyone—and can still surprise you.

Cooking Together

Lunch that day was an absolute highlight.

We attended a hands-on class at Chef Tarik's Cooking School, and it turned into so much more than just a cooking lesson. We chopped, diced, stirred—and, at times, danced—our way through preparing traditional tagines and fresh Moroccan salads, with plenty of laughter along the way.

We also had the opportunity to watch Moroccan bread, known as khobz, being made the traditional way in a wood-fired clay oven, or faran. There was something incredibly grounding about seeing these time-honoured techniques up close, especially after enjoying the food throughout the trip.

Afterward, we wandered through the gardens before sitting down together to enjoy the meal we had helped create. It felt both celebratory and deeply satisfying. We ended the experience with aprons and certificates in hand, proudly marking our completion of a Moroccan cooking class—and leaving with a new appreciation for the flavours and traditions behind the cuisine.

Agafay Desert

The journey to the Agafay Desert began with a growing sense of excitement—especially when we started spotting camels along the roadside. There’s something about seeing them in real life, just casually standing there against the landscape, that immediately makes it all feel a bit more real. Knowing we’d be riding them at sunset added to the anticipation, and there was definitely a buzz on the bus as we got closer to camp.

The camp itself was absolutely beautiful. The tented accommodations were far more luxurious than expected—thoughtfully designed, comfortable, and surprisingly elegant. Many of the women took full advantage of that, spending time relaxing in their rooms and enjoying the slower pace.

The pool area was another highlight—it genuinely felt like you could have been at a beach resort, which made it all the more surreal when you looked up and saw the desert stretching out around you. Interestingly, thanks to recent rains, the hills even had a soft layer of grass and wildflowers, adding an unexpected softness to the landscape.

The camel ride at sunset was, as expected, a moment. There’s a rhythm to it—the gentle sway as you move across the terrain, the quiet of the surroundings, the changing light as the sun begins to dip. It was one of those experiences that feels both slightly surreal and completely grounding at the same time.

Much of our time here was intentionally unstructured, which turned out to be a gift. The day was spent lounging by the pool, some with cocktails in hand,  simply enjoying the stillness. There was something fascinating about observing the mix of guests as well—from Moroccan families to a lively group of Dutch women traveling together, each bringing their own energy to the space.

The evening was social and entertaining. Dinner—more tagines —was followed by a rotating cast of performances: belly dancing, local Berber musicians, even a Frank Sinatra impersonator and a magician. It was unexpected, a little quirky at times, but always enjoyable.

Like many parts of this trip, the Agafay experience wasn’t about matching a preconceived image. It was about letting go of that image entirely—and finding something different, and perhaps more memorable, in its place.

Essaouira

Arriving in Essaouira felt like stepping into a completely different rhythm of Morocco.

After leaving the desert behind, we stopped at a women’s argan cooperative, where we were given a short but fascinating demonstration of how argan oil is produced and used.

It’s one of those ingredients you hear about often, but seeing the process—from extraction to its applications in both cosmetic and culinary uses—gave it a whole new level of appreciation. Needless to say, a fair amount of shopping happened, from oils and serums to honey and lip balms.

By the time we reached Essaouira, the shift was immediate. The air felt lighter, the pace slower, and there was something about being by the ocean that changed the energy of the group.

We stopped for lunch right near the water, and there was a collective sense of happiness at something as simple as sitting seaside, enjoying fresh salads, pizza, and carpaccio. It felt familiar and comforting after days of rich, traditional meals.

The town itself is incredibly charming. We set out on a guided walk through the fishing port, where the bright blue boats bobbed along the water, and fishermen moved through their daily routines, then continued along the old fortifications with sweeping ocean views before entering the medina.

Compared to Marrakech, the medina here felt calmer, more navigable—still vibrant, but without the same intensity. The shops were filled with beautifully crafted goods, from textiles to ceramics to intricate silver jewelry, each piece reflecting the artistry of different Berber traditions.

We ended our tour at a silversmith’s workshop, where we learned about the detailed techniques behind filigree work and the symbolic meaning embedded in many of the designs. It added another layer to what we were seeing in the shops—these weren’t just souvenirs, but pieces of cultural storytelling.

What made Essaouira particularly special was the space it gave us. With time to explore at our own pace, the women spread out—some wandering through the winding streets in search of treasures, others stopping for fresh juice, coffee, or a quiet moment on a rooftop terrace overlooking the sea. It was easy, relaxed, and joyful in a way that felt different from the earlier parts of the trip.

As the sun began to set, a few of us found our way to a rooftop spot in the medina, where we sat with drinks in hand, watching the sky change colour over the ocean. It was one of those simple but perfect travel moments—no agenda, no rush, just being present. Some stayed on for dinner, while others chose a seaside setting closer to the hotel, but either way, the evening carried that same sense of ease.

Essaouira didn’t demand anything from us. It simply invited us to slow down—and we did.

Back to Marrakech and Farewell

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