The Leap to Marrakech
How did I end up in this picture?
IT WAS LOVE… THE END….
Not the end of the story but it was love of course, at the time I did not know it.
What pulled me toward the Red City, Marrakech?
It’s a question I get asked often, and it always makes me pause. The fact that I, of all people, am writing a blog shows just how far I’ve come. How do I even begin to sum up the twists and turns that brought me here? What led me to take the leap from the familiar to the unknown?
But before you read any further, let me make one thing clear: this is NOT a “Top 15 Things to See in Marrakech” guide, nor is it a “What to Eat in the Red City” list. Sure, I’ll share places and spaces I’ve grown to love along the way, but naturally—and most of them come with a story.
This is about my story: the journey of moving from Atlanta to Marrakech and how it shaped me as a person and an artist. If that sounds like something you’re curious about, Enter
“ THE SPACE BETWEEN WORLDS ”
The straw that broke the camel’s back
We all have a COVID story, and mine was a series of heartbreaks, one after another—a cascade of pain that brought me to my breaking point. I needed to get away from everything and everyone. So, I booked a trip to multiple cities, with Marrakech as the first stop. I remember looking at pictures and thinking how foreign and exotic she looked, imagining she might be a breath of fresh air I needed. Little did I know that by meeting her, my entire life would change.
My stay at TRESOR
From the moment I stepped off the plane, disoriented from the foggy journey from ATL to RAK airport, I knew I wasn’t in Atlanta anymore. Getting my rental car and attempting to navigate the Medina was nothing short of an out-of-body experience. I found myself driving down one-way streets, narrowly avoiding donkeys and merchants—a far cry from cruising down Peachtree Street or T Road on the south side of Atlanta.
Eventually, after wrestling with my GPS, I met my Airbnb host—now my friend—Jacqueline. Her calm yet powerful spirit was exactly what I needed to guide me into the unknown. Once I stepped into the Riad (my first ever), I was enveloped by a surprising sense of peace. It was as if the chaos of the Medina melted away at the door, leaving only serenity.
I still remember being greeted by Brando (The Dog in the picture above)and a fresh pot of Moroccan tea and sweets. That night, I slept better than I had in weeks, and then came the call to prayer—something I had never experienced before. I woke up immediately, confused and wondering if it was some kind of emergency alarm. I laugh now, remembering how unfamiliar and surreal it all felt back then.
First impressions
By the time I had settled into the Riad, I finally felt a sense of calm. The chaos of the Medina melted away, replaced by stillness and the soothing routine of Moroccan tea and sweets. That first night gave me a chance to catch my breath, but it was only a glimpse of what was to come.
It wasn’t until we met under the veil of night that I began to see her truly. Our first date felt like an introduction all over again—this time, with clarity. Her perfume #22 mingled with the faint scent of a freshly lit camel, her cautious yet inviting gaze touched my soul. The ambiance wrapped itself around me—the soft glow, the pulse of Organica House music I’d never heard before, and the unspoken allure of something entirely new. I couldn’t tell where the night ended and she began, but I knew I was falling under her spell.
Final Boarding Call
After that night and the days that followed, I had time to reflect—not just on what I was experiencing in Marrakech but on everything that had led me there. I was alone in North Africa for the first time, on my first solo international trip, after enduring a tremendous amount of trauma. At first, it felt surreal, almost magical. But soon, the weight of it all began to sink in. The magic was fading, and the pain was creeping in.
Around that time, I started hearing whispers of a new COVID strain—Omicron—and the possibility of borders shutting down. Just as I was beginning to process what was happening within me, I had to switch gears and act fast. I couldn’t risk getting stuck in Morocco for who knows how long, especially since this was just the first leg of my trip, with other flights already booked.
Panic and fear began to settle in as I jumped on my laptop to check my flight—only to discover it had been canceled. Then came the domino effect: one cancellation after another. For a moment, I thought I’d have to rent a car and drive through the night to Casablanca, hoping to find a way out from there. But thanks to Amex, I managed to purchase the last seat on an Air France flight out of Marrakech.
When I arrived in Casablanca, the airport was chaos—a real circus. People were rushing counters, some with bags of cash, desperate to secure a flight. I held my breath until I boarded the plane and heard the sound of the seatbelt fasten. For the next three hours, I could finally rest, even if I knew Paris had its own challenges waiting for me. >> CDG
