Landing at Marrakesh Menara Airport, the Al-Quraishi family was greeted by heat that felt alive. For them, Morocco had always symbolised energy , a sensory experience wrapped in culture.
Their riad was a world within walls: a tiled courtyard, lemon trees, and the gentle trickle of water. Mornings began with fresh bread, honey, and the sound of life waking beyond the wooden door. As they stepped into the Medina, chaos turned to choreography. Every shout, scent, and colour had a rhythm.
The family visited the Saadian Tombs, wandered through the souks, and found themselves lost more than once , happily. The children pointed out lanterns and leather slippers, fascinated by how everything seemed handmade. Afternoons were for escape: to Majorelle Garden, its blue walls glowing under palm shadows.
One day they drove into the Agafay Desert. The stillness there was unexpected. They rode camels at sunset, the city’s noise replaced by wind. Dinner was served under the stars, the table lit by flickering lamps. It wasn’t luxury by design but by feeling.
On their last day, they visited a women’s cooperative where argan oil was made. Watching the process, Reema realised Morocco’s beauty wasn’t curated for visitors , it was lived.
They left with full suitcases and fuller hearts, already planning their return to Fes and Chefchaouen. Morocco taught them that true colour lives in culture, not just paint.
