Have you ever gone somewhere entirely new and felt this instant sense of belonging – of finding a home, away from home? The Riad “Dar Afram“ in Morocco’s vibrant coastal town of Essaouira, for me, did not only save my Morocco trip when I was really struggling, but also managed to create this magical connection that’s hard to describe. I’ll try anyway.
To spit it out right away: Morocco is not my favourite travel destination. It even had me at a point where I was really struggling and longed to get out of the country – a feeling I’ve never had before, anywhere in the many places I’ve visited in my 31-year-old life. After rushing from city to city in around a week with my two sisters, ending up in hot, dusty, loud, and busy Marrakech, I was really longing to go to a quieter place where I could be closer to nature and come down.
So I went to Essaouira, a tranquil but vibrant coastal town and former Portuguese colony, and felt relieved when I stepped through the gate of the Medina and into alleys that were not packed with souvenir stalls and street vendors, the air being mild and windy. Perfect, so I thought, for spending a couple of chilled days, filled with exploring the city, and working a little.
Morocco: taking me to my limits as a female solo traveler
Fast forward to two days later, when I’m sitting in the bed of my Airbnb apartment, not wanting to leave the house because I wanted to avoid the neighbours on the left and on the right who kept inviting me to tea and fast-breaking dinner (since it was the beginning of Ramadan). This, of course, is an absolutely beautiful experience and I do love the Moroccan hospitality and that everyone is really welcoming here – and also seems to really mean it.
What I found after a while though was that for me, it was hard to find the balance of being polite – and saying yes to all these invitations – and staying safe as a female solo traveler. Wandering around, you’re talked at by men all the time – which I’m used to from Latin America, but at least there, I speak the language and can shout something back, which usually does the trick.
But being in a country where I don’t understand a single word nor know the culture very well, and not being very familiar with the cultural peculiarities, topped with eating unhealthy, fat and sugary food when being invited and living in an apartment that’s far from being clean, really started to give me a hard time.
Change of place, change of mind: restart at the “Dar Afram“
I do think of myself as a traveler who takes things pretty easy and is quick to adapt to unknown cultures and conditions. But in Morocco, I was really struggling. And I knew that it was only myself who could get me out of this, so I packed my stuff and went to a 9.8-star-rated Riad (yes, I might be an online-review-victim …) a few blocks away. And entered into a world that couldn’t have been more different from where I was coming from.
From the absolute kindness of the staff that gives you the warmest welcome to its beautiful, clean, crisp and big (!) rooms, and the cozy rooftop lounge and terrace with a superb ocean view, the Dar Afram is a place where you can only feel like home. However, the largest part to it this feeling is added by its owner, Abdul, a 60-something Australian-Moroccan sweetheart of a man, with whom I quickly went from small-talking during the check-in to spending the whole afternoon – and almost the entire next day – with, conversing about life and everything else, over coffee, and dinner, and tea.
Abdul: the man who saved Morocco for me
Abdul is that kind of person that feels like you’ve known forever, and that really gets to your heart although you’ve only spent 1.5 days with them. I’ve taken so much from my talks with him and besides, the doing-nothing-but-just-letting-the-day-go-by has given my days in Essaouira a perfect 180-degree spin. Abdul is a man of many things: a well-traveled musician, Moroccan-Australian but really just a man who has seen and experienced a crazy shitload of things in his life.
An unplanned owner of a guesthouse, open to the bone, one of the most honest and genuine, interested, inspiring, and understanding human beings I’ve ever met. He not only invited me to stay and have dinner with him and another guy who has been living at the guesthouse for weeks, but also took me to the best coffee place with the nicest (female!) barista in Essaouira. In between, we spent hours talking about our lives, our beliefs, where we came from and where we want to go.
As someone who has traveled half of the world and lived abroad for most of his life, he also had a sympathetic, pragmatic attitude towards Moroccan cultural habits, like fasting during Ramadan. He didn’t support or like the practice and the consequences that come with it (men becoming aggressive because they can’t pursue their pleasures during the day), but he doesn’t drink or eat in public out of respect.
I learned a lot from him, but the biggest message being to take life as it comes, and to grab the chances it gives to you – which also meant spontaneously joining him on a jam session on the piano, thing I’d say no to in almost any other circumstances.
Meeting this man who could’ve been my grandfather has been one of the most miraculous encounters I’ve had on my travels so far, and it saved Morocco for me.
Dar Afram: the “accidental“ guesthouse that feels like home
The place he owns is not a guesthouse. It’s a place for beautiful encounters, a music studio, an art gallery. It’s a place where he surrounds himself with friends, old and new, good music, and good vibes. It’s a place from which you can watch the most beautiful sunset. And it’s a place where you feel immediately welcome and home the minute you enter it, because even his staff greets you like they’ve known you forever. This is a miraculous fact, considering that Abdul never planned to open a guesthouse in the first place. It just sort of happened when Lonelyplanet decided to put his house into their book (which he didn’t even know what it was, back then). Or maybe it’s because of that that the Dar Afram is a place where people enter as a guest and leave as a friend – that is, if you open your mind to it.
Thank you, Abdul, from all my heart for opening up your house and all your stories for me. I will be back. But next time, I won’t take any detours. (And if you’re now wondering why there’s not a single picture from Abdul in this article about him – well, I simply didn’t think of taking one back then. But he’d be happy if you’d check out his band, Afram sound!)