Travel Guides

Where to Stay in Marrakech (And How to Choose the Right Area) Marrakech doesn’t have one personality. It has multiple frequencies.One runs hot: scooters cutting through crowds, spice towers stacked high, hands gesturing you deeper into side alleys like the city is testing how far you’ll follow.Another is open and deliberate: wide pavements, brunch terraces, nail salons, rooftop cocktails, a grid you can actually breathe inside.And then there’s the outer edge: gated, green, practical. Morning space before you step back into the intensity.If you’re researching where to stay in Marrakech, the mistake is choosing accommodation first.The smarter move is choosing the version of Marrakech you want to wake up in. Because here, your neighbourhood doesn’t just frame your trip, it defines it.I arrived by car from Casablanca and based myself on the outskirts of Marrakech. Travelling with my dog Roly meant choosing space first. From there, I stepped into the Medina and Gueliz on my own terms. Here’s how to choose yours properly. Marrakech at a Glance (The Shortcut Before You Book) If you’re deciding where to stay in Marrakech, start here: Full immersion / classic Marrakech → Stay in the Medina Balance and easier day-to-day living → Base yourself in Gueliz Luxury hotels and nightlife energy → Choose Hivernage Space, villas and retreat-style privacy → Head to Palmeraie Road-trip practicality or dog-friendly accomodation → Look at the outskirts / golf resorts Now let’s break down what each of those actually feels like and who they’re right for. The Best Areas to Stay in Marrakech If You Want Marrakech at Full Volume: Stay in the Medina. The Medina is the version people imagine before they arrive. You walk in and the city immediately starts moving through you: scooters appear behind your shoulder before you see them the air thickens with spice, leather, smoke, citrus wooden lattice filters the light into patterned strips voices overlap in Arabic, French, Spanish, English and you stop trying to “navigate” and start flowing with it This is Marrakech without a buffer. It doesn’t introduce itself gently. It expects you to step in. Best for: first-time visitors, short stays, riads, rooftop culture, full sensory immersion. Not ideal if: you need quiet mornings, have a car, heavy luggage, or you’re travelling with a dog. Where to stay in Marrakech first time?If you want the iconic version, stay in the Medina. But commit to it. Don’t expect it to behave like a conventional city. If You Want Marrakech With Breathing Space: Stay in Gueliz Gueliz is Marrakech with structure. Wide pavements. Grid streets. Modern cafes. Brunch terraces. Boutiques. Rooftop conversations that stretch into the afternoon and quietly shift the direction of your day. This is where the city becomes liveable. You can work properly. Walk without constant alertness. Step into the Medina for intensity, then step back out again.That contrast is what keeps Marrakech sharp. Best for: longer stays, digital nomads, solo travellers, balance, modern food and rooftop culture. If you’re asking, “What’s the best area to stay in Marrakech?” for most travellers, this is the most balanced answer. If You Want Polished Evenings and Hotel Energy: Stay in HivernageHivernage leans curated. Hotels with manicured entrances. Pool days. Cocktail bars. Evenings that feel intentional. You’re close enough to reach the Medina easily, but you’re not waking up inside its current. If you want Marrakech to feel composed and slightly more controlled this is where you base yourself. Best for: couples, luxury stays, nightlife, hotel-focused trips. If You Want Space and Villa Privacy: Stay in PalmeraiePalmeraie stretches out into palm groves and villa compounds. It’s quieter. Residential.You’ll need a car. You won’t casually wander out for coffee. But if what you want is space, pools, slower mornings and deliberate access to the city, this works.Here, Marrakech becomes something you enter, not something you’re surrounded by all day. Best for: retreats, longer stays, privacy, families or villa rentals. If You’re Road-Tripping or Travelling With a Dog: Stay on the OutskirtsThis version doesn’t get talked about enough. Gated complexes. Green space. Parking that isn’t a puzzle. Morning walks before the city fully wakes.If you’re driving, or travelling with a dog this setup can change the entire experience. You get structure and space first, then step into the Medina and Gueliz deliberately.That separation keeps the city electric. Best for: road-trippers, remote workers, dog travel, travellers who want space and practicality. Is Marrakech Safe? And Does Where You Stay Change That? Marrakech is generally safe for visitors. But “safe” isn’t the only question. The real question is: how does it feel?The Medina is intense. That intensity isn’t danger, it’s density. Noise. Attention. Narrow lanes. You’ll be approached. You’ll be watched. You’ll be spoken to. For some travellers that feels electric. For others, it feels draining by night three.Gueliz feels different. Wider pavements. Clearer lines of sight. More mixed local life. Walking at night here feels easier because the infrastructure supports it.Hivernage feels contained with hotel security, lighting, controlled entrances.The outskirts feel private. Gated complexes. Security. Predictability.So when people ask, “Is Marrakech safe?” the better question is: where are you basing yourself?Safety in Marrakech isn’t about crime rates. It’s about environment Visiting Marrakech as a Woman Marrakech isn’t unsafe for women. But it is direct.You’ll be looked at. You’ll be spoken to. You may hear comments you didn’t invite. Most of it is verbal. Most of it passes quickly but it’s part of the environment. The key difference isn’t danger, it’s attention.If you’re used to moving anonymously, Marrakech feels more visible especially in the Medina, where space is tight and interaction is constant. It’s rarely aggressive. It can be persistent.That doesn’t mean avoid it. It means understand it.What Helps Walk with purpose. Keep responses short if you engage at all. “La, shukran” (no, thank you) is usually enough. Dress with awareness; not obligation, but practicality. Confidence changes the tone of interactions here. So does non-engagement.I moved through the city solo with Roly, including evenings. I wasn’t reckless. I wasn’t on edge. I was aware. After DarkUse taxis if you’re unsure. Choose well-lit streets. Avoid wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar back lanes late at night.The city runs on commerce more than confrontation. Once you understand that, it becomes easier to move through it.So yes, Marrakech is safe for solo female travellers, but it rewards awareness over assumption. Final Thought Marrakech isn’t difficult. It’s dynamic. Where you stay determines whether the city feels immersive, balanced, polished, or private. The same streets can feel electric or exhausting depending on where you wake up.There isn’t a universally “best” area. There’s only the version that matches how you want to experience it.Choose that first. Then book.

Best Places to Visit in Morocco Morocco is one of the most varied countries you can explore in a single trip. Within a few hours you can move from Atlantic coastline to mountain villages, from dense historic medinas to vast desert landscapes. If you’re researching the best places to visit in Morocco, the key isn’t choosing destinations in isolation, it’s understanding how they connect. Your route, your entry point and your pace shape the entire experience. I travelled Morocco by car, crossing from Spain by ferry with my dog Roly, building the journey region by region. Whether you’re flying in or road-tripping across the border, this guide breaks down the 10 best places to visit in Morocco and how to combine them properly. Table of Contents Arrival to Morocco 10 Best Places to Visit in Morocco Other Places Worth Adding to The Route Best Places in Morocco for First-Time Visitors Best Places to Go in Morocco for Culture Best Places in Morocco for Nature How You Arrive in Morocco Shapes Your Route If You’re Flying: Most international travellers land in: Marrakech (RAK) – ideal for central Morocco Casablanca (CMN) – strongest international connections Fes (FEZ) – best for northern routes Tangier (TNG) – good for north + coastal start Agadir (AGA) – southern coastline access From Marrakech, it’s easy to combine: Marrakech → Atlas Mountains → Essaouira From Fes: Fes → Chefchaouen → RabatFrom Casablanca: Casablanca → Essaouira → Marrakech From Agadir: Agadir → Taghazout → Imsouane → Essaouira → Marrakech If You’re Driving from Spain: The most common crossings are: Tarifa → Tangier Ville (fast passenger ferry) Algeciras → Tangier Med (car ferry, ~1–1.5 hours) Crossing by car changes the dynamic completely. The morning we crossed, Spain slowly disappeared behind us and Morocco came into view through haze and sunlight. By late morning we were driving south from Tangier Med with goats crossing roads, hills opening up, everything feeling unmistakably different.The drive from Tangier Med to: Tangier city → 45 minutes Asilah → 1 hour Rabat → 3 hours Chefchaouen → 2–2.5 hours If you’re road-tripping, northern Morocco becomes your natural starting point. 10 Best Places to Visit in Morocco Here are 10 of the best places to visit in Morocco, whether you’re planning a one-week trip or a longer road journey. Imperial Cities Marrakech Region: Central MoroccoType: City (historic + modern)Marrakech is one of Morocco’s most iconic stops; intense, energetic, and visually unforgettable. You’ll get the full medina experience here (souks, rooftops, noise, colour), but it also has a more modern side in Gueliz with cafes, brunch spots and an easier day-to-day pace. Best for: first-time visitors, rooftop dining, shopping, classic Morocco energy Nomad note: easiest to work from if you base in Gueliz or a quieter compound and dip into the medina Dog note: doable in parks + open areas, but the medina isn’t the easiest with a dog Fes Region: Northern MoroccoType: City (historic / cultural)Fes is Morocco at its most historic and detailed. The kind of place you visit for depth. The medina is one of the most famous in the world, and it’s less polished than Marrakech in a way that makes it feel more raw and real. Best for: history, architecture, traditional culture, photography Nomad note: better for a focused few days than a long base Dog note: expect restrictions in indoor spaces; plan around outdoor walks + quieter streets Rabat Region: Atlantic Coast (Northwest Morocco)Type: Capital cityRabat feels more structured and local than the cities tourists usually chase. It’s more functional, and gives you a sense of modern Moroccan life alongside history (kasbah, coastline, key landmarks). Best for: a capital stop, daily-life vibe Nomad note: good “reset base” for work days because the pace is steadier Dog note: one of the least dog-friendly cities. Plan for takeaway and outdoor-only stops Desert & Mountains Sahara Desert (Merzouga) Region: Southeast MoroccoType: Desert landscapeMerzouga is the gateway to the Sahara dunes experience, the classic “Morocco desert” you picture. It’s a longer drive to reach, but it’s one of the most unique landscapes in the country and feels completely different to the cities and coast. Best for: bucket-list landscapes, dunes, stargazing, overnight desert camps Nomad note: treat it like a trip segment, not a work base Dog note: doable with planning, but consider heat, sand, and long travel days Atlas Mountains Region: Central / High AtlasType: Mountains / villages / hikingThe Atlas Mountains are where Morocco opens up with cooler air, big scenery, winding roads and small villages that feel a world away from the cities. It’s one of the best places in Morocco to slow the pace and get into nature. Best for: hiking, mountain stays, scenic drives, escaping city intensity Nomad note: great if you want quiet and deep focus (check Wi-Fi before booking) Dog note: one of the best regions for travelling with a dog with lots of space and outdoor living Aït Benhaddou Region: Near Ouarzazate (South of the Atlas)Type: Historic ksar / road trip stopAït Benhaddou is one of Morocco’s most famous road-trip stops. A fortified village made of earth-toned buildings that looks cinematic in real life. It’s an easy add-on if you’re driving across the Atlas region. Best for: road trips, history, photography, film locations Nomad note: perfect as a stopover between bases Dog note: good because it’s outdoors-focused and walkable Coastal Morocco Essaouira Region: Atlantic Coast (West Morocco)Type: Coastal townEssaouira is one of the easiest places to live in Morocco. It's walkable, relaxed, creative, and (in my experience) one of the most dog-friendly. It has a softer medina than Marrakech, beach routines, and enough cafes and restaurants to stay for longer. Best for: longer stays, ocean air, medina wandering, relaxed pace Nomad note: genuinely strong work base — routines are easy to build here Dog note: one of the best places in Morocco for dogs (cafes/restaurants are far more welcoming) Taghazout Region: Atlantic Coast (near Agadir)Type: Surf town / coastal villageTaghazout is best known for surf culture and beach living. It’s the kind of place people choose for a few days to switch off, or for longer stays if they want sun, ocean and simple routines. Best for: surf, coastal living, laid-back stays Nomad note: popular with remote workers. Check Wi-Fi and accommodation setup Dog note: strong option for dogs because life is outdoors and beach-led Casablanca Region: Atlantic Coast (West Morocco)Type: Major city Casablanca is modern, busy, and less medina-led with more boulevards, coffee culture, restaurants and day-to-day movement. It’s not the “classic Morocco” most people picture, but it’s a great contrast and a strong city base if you like urban energy. Best for: modern city life, food, cafes, coastal walks, cosmopolitan vibes Nomad note: one of the easiest cities to work from (modern apartments, strong amenities) Dog note: mixed. It's doable outdoors, but expect restrictions indoors Northern Morocco  Chefchaouen Region: Rif Mountains (Northern Morocco)Type: Mountain townChefchaouen is famous for its blue streets, but it’s not just pretty, it’s also a compact mountain town that feels like a visual reset. It’s a great add-on if you’re exploring Northern Morocco. Best for: photography, slow wandering, mountain scenery, short stays Nomad note: good for a calm few days (Wi-Fi depends on accommodation) Dog note: generally easier than big cities because it’s walkable and outdoorsy Honourable Mention Asilah Region: Atlantic Coast (North Morocco)Type: Coastal townAsilah is a distinctive coastal town in Morocco with whitewashed walls, bold blue doors, large-scale murals across the medina and Atlantic views from the ramparts. It’s visually strong and creative without feeling overworked for tourism. Best for: art, coastal walks, medina, adding contrast to bigger cities Nomad note: a strong short-term base. Peaceful enough to focus, lively enough not to feel isolated Dog note: An easy place in Morocco to navigate with a dog with beach access, open streets and fewer restrictions than larger cities Other Places Worth Adding to Your Route Not every stop in Morocco makes a “top 10” list. Some places work better as route add-ons, alternatives, or more local detours. If you’re driving especially, these are worth considering. Imsouane (Atlantic Coast) Between Essaouira and Taghazout, Imsouane is smaller, less built-up, and centred almost entirely around the ocean. It’s known for long surf breaks and open coastal views. Best for: slow coastal stops, surf days, low-density beach living Works well as: a 1–2 night pause between larger bases Safi (Atlantic Coast) Often skipped, Safi sits between Essaouira and Casablanca. It’s less polished, more industrial in places, but that’s part of its character. The pottery tradition here is strong, and the coastal fortifications give it a different feel to Morocco’s more touristy towns. Best for: off-route exploration, pottery heritage, seeing a less curated coastal city Tamraght (Near Taghazout) Just south of Taghazout, Tamraght offers similar coastal access with slightly less density. If Taghazout feels too established, Tamraght can be a softer alternative Best for: surf access with more space Ouzoud Waterfalls (Near the Atlas) One of Morocco’s most dramatic waterfalls, located northeast of Marrakech. It’s popular, and geographically striking, especially if you’re combining Marrakech with Atlas travel. Best for: a nature-focused day or overnight trip from Marrakech Tazekka National Park (Near Fes) If you’re starting in Fes and want something less tour-bus heavy, Tazekka offers caves, forested areas and mountain trails that feel more rugged and less filtered. Best for: hiking near Fes M’Hamid (Southern Sahara Edge) Further south than Merzouga, M’Hamid sits on the edge of the Sahara with a more remote feel. Fewer polished camps, more raw desert access. Best for: travellers wanting a less commercial desert experience. Best Places in Morocco for First-Time Visitors If it’s your first trip to Morocco, don’t build your itinerary around a checklist. Build it around contrast. Morocco isn’t one experience, it’s several. Your route should reflect that. Decide how you travel. Are you flying in for a short break? Working remotely for a month? Road-tripping down from Europe? Travelling with a dog? Morocco shifts depending on your pace and entry point. Here’s how to think about it. If You’re Flying In for a Short Stay (5–7 Days) Start with Marrakech. It gives you the full sensory introduction with the medina, rooftops, architecture, energy. Then add Essaouira for beaches, coastline and contrast. Its more walkable medina gives you space after Marrakech’s intensity. It’s one of the easiest places in Morocco to settle into, whether that’s for two nights or two weeks. If You Want Culture Without the Hype Land in Fes instead. Pair it with Chefchaouen in the Rif Mountains, and finish in Rabat for a more local capital feel. This route is less commercially intense than Marrakech and often overlooked by first-timers. If You’re Driving from Spain (My Route) Crossing by ferry into Tangier Med changes the tone of the trip. Instead of flying straight into the deep end, you enter gradually: Tangier → Asilah → Rabat → Casablanca  → Marrakech → Essaouira → Imsouane → TaghazoutThe shift from Europe into Morocco unfolds in stages. The roads open up. The landscape changes. It feels like crossing into somewhere new, not arriving abruptly.It’s a slower introduction, but a memorable one. If You’re Choosing a Digital Nomad Base Not every Moroccan city works equally well long-term. Essaouira is one of the most liveable bases: compact, coastal, easy to build routine. Taghazout works if you want surf culture and ocean access. Casablanca offers the strongest infrastructure if you prefer a bigger-city movement. Marrakech works but neighbourhood choice makes all the difference. Choose based on daily life, not just landmarks. If You’re Travelling with a Dog Morocco is possible with a dog, but route planning matters. Coastal towns like Essaouira, Asilah, Taghazout, Imsouane are noticeably easier. Mountain regions are manageable. Dense medinas require more planning. It’s not about whether you can do it, it’s about choosing the places that make it smoother. If You Have Two Weeks Two weeks gives you space to combine regions properly:Marrakech → Atlas Mountains → Sahara → EssaouiraorTangier → Chefchaouen → Fes → Rabat → MarrakechYou don’t need to rush. Morocco rewards depth over speed. Best Places to Go in Morocco for Culture Culture in Morocco isn’t something you observe from a distance. It’s something you step into. It shows up in food, in music, in trade, in surf breaks, in desert camps, in daily rituals. Not just monuments.Here’s where you actually feel it. The Desert: Camel Riding & Campfire Evenings Yes, camel riding is cultural because it isn’t just an activity, it’s tied to how people moved across the Sahara for centuries. The desert isn’t empty land. It’s trade routes, nomadic history, survival knowledge.In Merzouga or M’Hamid, riding out into the dunes at sunset isn’t about the photo. It’s about scale. Silence. Sitting around a fire under a sky with no light pollution while local guides play traditional music.That’s lived heritage, not performance. The Kitchen: Cooking Classes & Market Shopping If you want to understand Morocco properly, you go to the market first.In Marrakech or Fes, walking through the produce stalls with someone who knows what they’re buying changes everything. Spices aren’t aesthetic. They’re functional. Preserved lemons, olives, fresh bread, it’s layered.Taking a cooking class here isn’t a tourist add-on. It’s a window into domestic life. You learn how tagine is built, why mint tea is poured from height, how hospitality operates.Food is culture in Morocco. Full stop. The Atlantic: Surfing as Identity Surfing in Taghazout or Imsouane isn’t just a sport scene. It’s reshaped entire towns.Fishing villages became surf hubs. Cafes cater to early morning tides. Boards lean against whitewashed walls. The ocean sets the pace of the day.That’s culture too, modern, coastal, evolving.It’s different from the medinas. It’s still Morocco. The Medina: Craft & Trade In Fes especially, culture is still craft-based. Leather, metalwork, weaving, ceramics, these aren’t souvenir factories, they’re skills passed down through families. The medina functions like a working organism.Even if you don’t buy anything, watching artisans work tells you more than any guidebook paragraph could. Music: Gnawa in Essaouira In Essaouira, culture comes through sound.Gnawa music isn’t background noise. It’s spiritual, rhythmic, rooted in West African history. During festival season the entire town shifts. But even outside of it, you’ll hear it in small squares and side streets.It’s woven into the place. Best Places in Morocco for Nature Nature in Morocco isn’t one landscape. It’s contrast. You can drive for three hours and feel like you’ve changed continents. Coastline to mountains. Mountains to desert. Desert to Atlantic wind.If you’re coming for scenery, don’t just pick a destination. Pick a terrain. The Sahara: Scale & Silence The desert near Merzouga isn’t impressive because it’s sandy. It’s impressive because of proportion. The dunes absorb sound. Footsteps disappear quickly. Night falls fast and the temperature drops with it. When you step away from camp lights, the sky sharpens into something you don’t see in cities.Camel riding here isn’t a gimmick, it’s the traditional way people moved through this terrain. Sitting that high above the sand changes your perspective. You feel the vastness instead of just looking at it.The Sahara is less about activity and more about exposure. You either embrace the stillness or you don’t. The High Atlas: Altitude & Air The Atlas Mountains don’t feel like a backdrop, they feel like a shift. Leaving Marrakech, the road begins to climb and the city intensity fades behind you. Switchbacks cut through dry valleys. Villages cling to slopes. In winter, peaks hold snow. In summer, the light is sharp and dry.You don’t need to trek for days to feel the difference. Even a single night at elevation changes the tone of your trip.The Atlas gives Morocco vertical dimension. The Atlantic Coast: Wind & Movement Morocco’s Atlantic coastline isn’t tropical. It’s powerful. Essaouira has a wide beach with an open horizon. The wind defines it. The ocean is rarely still.Further south, Taghazout and Imsouane feel more exposed. Surf breaks shape daily life. People plan around tides. The coastline isn’t manicured, it’s active.If the desert is silence, the Atlantic is motion. The In-Between: Driving as Nature Some of Morocco’s most interesting scenery isn’t a final destination. It’s the drive.Crossing from Spain by ferry and watching Africa appear through haze. Driving south from Tangier with hills rolling out. Moving from Marrakech towards Essaouira as the land softens and flattens.Morocco reveals itself in transitions. If you’re driving, you see more of its texture than most fly-in itineraries allow. Water & Greenery: The Unexpected Layer Most people associate Morocco with desert and heat. Then you stand at Ouzoud Waterfalls and realise that isn’t the whole picture. Forested areas near Tazekka National Park. Green valleys hidden between mountain ridges.Morocco isn’t monochrome. It just doesn’t advertise its green side loudly.Nature in Morocco isn’t curated. It’s layered. You don’t visit “a nature site.” You move through terrain.That’s the difference. Morocco isn’t a single experience you tick off. It’s a sequence of contrasts; coast, city, desert, altitude. The more intentionally you design your route, the more it reveals. Whether you’re flying in for a week or driving in for months, the best places to visit in Morocco are the ones that fit your pace.

The Drive South: Rain, Roads & Arrival The drive from Casablanca to Marrakech took around three hours. Heavy showers rolled across the motorway, wipers on full speed, visibility dipping in and out. The landscape flattened into grey tones, the kind of drive that demands focus rather than daydreaming. As I got closer to Marrakech, the rain didn’t ease. If anything, it doubled down. My Airbnb was set within a golf resort complex on the outskirts of the city with gated security, lots of green space, within residential blocks.  By the time I finally located the right block, the unloading of the car began, suitcase, bags, dog gear, groceries, all in territorial rain. But that moment when the door shuts behind you and you're settled in? Worth it. I dried off, unpacked properly, and called it a night. Clay Oven indian takeway delivered dinner to the door, exactly what the evening required. I was here for five days. The forecast showed two more grey ones to begin. Not the postcard Marrakech entrance, but maybe that’s the point. Beauty and chaos don’t ask for perfect lighting. Rain Days, Work Mode & Wine Evenings The first couple of days in Marrakech weren’t headline weather with heavy skies, on-and-off rain, puddles gathering along the paths but having green space right outside the door changed everything. The golf course became our loop. Roly sprinting regardless and even in the rain, it felt expansive. I leaned into work mode. Laptop open, projects moving forward, calls scheduled around coffee refills. That’s the rhythm of this life, travel doesn’t replace work, it just reframes it. Marrakech became my backdrop while deadlines still got met. In the evenings I cooked in the Airbnb, the kind of meals that make a place feel temporarily yours and poured a glass of red. I watched 14 Peaks, a documentary that feels fitting when you’re on your own version of a long-haul journey.  It wasn’t the cinematic Marrakech people picture, no golden sunsets over the medina just yet but it had its own kind of satisfaction. Grounded. Productive. Reset without being static. Morning at the Park When the rain finally lifted in the week and a slice of blue pushed through, we moved fast. We headed straight to Park Arsat Moulay Abdesalam, just minutes from the Medina with red gravel paths and palm trees stretching high. The park is almost theatrical in its symmetry. Long walkways framed by clipped hedges, fountains catching light, benches positioned for conversation. Roly was instantly recharged, sprinting ahead on the red earth, nose down, tail up while I fell into easy conversations with other people doing their morning laps. It felt social without being crowded. A shared pause before the city ramps up and being so close to the Medina, you sense the shift waiting just beyond the gates; calm greenery on one side, sensory overload on the other. Sun back. Energy restored. Marrakech, finally, starting to show itself. Into the Medina: Noise, Colour & No Holding Back From the park, I walked toward the Koutoubia Mosque, its sandstone tower cutting clean into the sky. As you get closer to the Medina, the pace shifts. Pavements thicken. Carriages roll past, horses trotting through traffic. Vendors call out. The air tightens with movement. This is where Marrakech fully reveals itself. I stopped at an ATM before going in properly because once you’re inside, cash makes everything easier. At the front edge of the Medina, women sat with their boards offering braids. I took a seat and let them work; quick hands, tight plaits, no hesitation. Around us oranges pressed into juice on demand, men led monkeys through the square, carts stacked with souvenirs, spices and scarves. Cafes and restaurants lined the corners, terraces leaned over the action below. It’s not subtle. It’s not curated. It’s layered, loud, dynamic. This side of Marrakech doesn’t ease you in. It opens the gates and lets you decide how deep you’re willing to step. Marrakech Medina: Into the Maze One minute you’re standing at the edge of the medina, sunlight pouring over dusty pink walls, and the next you’re inside a living maze of sound, scent and movement. Scooters come first. You hear them before you see them, a sharp rev behind you, a quick beep, and suddenly they’re slicing through the crowd, weaving between tourists, locals, carts and wandering children like it’s choreographed. No hesitation. No slowing. Just instinct and flow. The streets narrow quickly. Overhead, wooden lattice panels filter the light into patterned strips across the ground. The air feels warm and busy. Every few steps, something changes. Spice bins spill colour onto the pavement. Next to them, shelves stacked with oils, soaps and glass jars. Then leather bags hanging in tight rows. Then football shirts. Then silver jewellery catching the light. Vendors call out casually, not aggressively, just enough to hook your attention. “Where you from?” “Good price for you.” “Look only, no problem.” There’s no single lane for walking. It’s shared territory. Scooters. Handcarts. People carrying boxes. It all moves at once, somehow without collision. And then there’s the mix of Arabic conversation layered with French, English, Spanish. You turn a corner and it shifts again. A quiet alley with textiles hanging floor to ceiling. A glass case filled with pastries. A barber pole spinning slowly in the shade. A sudden view of a minaret rising above the rooftops against a blue sky. It’s chaotic, yes but not random. There’s a pulse to the medina. A confidence. A kind of organised intensity that only makes sense once you surrender to it. You don’t walk through it in a straight line. You drift You adjust You step aside You get swept forward again And somewhere in the middle of it all between the scooters, the spices, the call to prayer echoing faintly over the rooftops, you realise this isn’t a place you observe. It’s a place you move with. Above the Medina: Lunch with a View at MÖ-MÖ After a few hours inside the medina, I’d worked up an appetite and followed the signs up to MÖ-MÖ Restaurant, tucked just off Jemaa el-Fnaa. A short climb up the stairs and suddenly the energy shifts. From above, the square becomes theatre. You watch the choreography instead of dodging it. The terrace is colour layered on colour with mosaic tables in greens and reds, striped awnings, soft peach walls, woven chairs, and staff moving calmly between tables in deep green uniforms. I ordered a meat tagine, slow-cooked and tender, served in a clay dish with warm bread on the side. Simple, rich, exactly what was needed after the sensory overload below. Marrakech doesn’t do half measures. It gives you the maze and then it hands you a balcony to look back at it from. Beauty & Chaos, In Real Time The next day the sun was already out and Roly and I headed onto the golf course paths for a long walk. Along the walk, Roly made friends with two small dogs darting across the grass. What started as a walk turned into a sprint session. It felt open. Light. Easy. I came back to the apartment late afternoon and had a chilled day, working and cooking at the airbnb.  And then, as the light started to fade into evening, the shift came. I was in the bedroom when I heard a loud crack followed by rushing water. By the time I reached the kitchen, it was already spreading, a pipe had burst, water pushing quickly across the tiles and seeping toward the living area. I called the host immediately. He said he was on his way, but he lived an hour out. By the time he arrived, the floors were soaked. There were no plumbers available that late in the evening, so the water had to be shut off entirely.  Roly and I retreated to the bedroom, the only dry space left and waited it out. It wasn’t dramatic in a cinematic way, just frustrating and inconvenient. The next morning was my last full day in Marrakech, so I left early and let the host and plumber deal with the flat while I went out determined to enjoy the rest of the city and not let it dampen the rest of the trip, no pun intended. The longer hassle came afterwards, trying to negotiate a refund through Booking.com. Calls, repeated explanations, conflicting information. Eventually they agreed to issue some credit toward a future booking which was minimal compared to what I’d paid. It was a useful lesson that not all booking platforms respond the same way when things go wrong. In my experience, Airbnb tends to step in more quickly and compensate more fairly. Marrakech really does give you beauty and chaos. Sometimes it’s in the medina. Sometimes it’s in your own airbnb kitchen. A Soft Landing: Brunch, Beauty & One Last Sunset at Kechmara My final day began gently with breakfast at Brunch Terrasses, tucked into a relaxed pocket of Gueliz known for its wide pavements, modern cafes and low-rise buildings in warm terracotta tones. It's Marrakech, but without the medina intensity. The kind of neighbourhood where you can sit outside, sip fresh juice, and watch the city wake up at its own pace. From there I drove further into central Gueliz, the more modern, European-influenced side of Marrakech. Less maze, more grid. I got my nails done, a small act of restoration after stepping through floodwater the evening before. Order restored, at least aesthetically. Then I headed to Kechmara for lunch and cocktails on the rooftop terrace. And this is where the day properly unfolded. The sun poured through the bohemian canopy, woven lampshades suspended overhead, natural plants spilling from corners, leafy prints across the cushions. It carried that effortless late-afternoon energy. No rush. No agenda. Just being exactly where I was. I ordered food. Then a cocktail. Then another. The air felt lighter again. A group of Belgian men were seated at the table beside mine. Conversation drifted across. Tables merged. Suddenly the afternoon stretched into early evening in the easiest way. Stories, laughter, travel tales, card games; the kind of spontaneous social moment solo travel quietly makes room for. It was fun. Unscripted. A fitting end to a stay that had swung between polished rooftops and flooded kitchens. Marrakech had given me markets, terraces, golf course walks, burst pipes, fresh manicured nails and new acquaintances, sometimes all within the same 24 hours. Not a bad way to close a chapter. Marrakech Neighbourhoods at a Glance Marrakech shifts dramatically depending on where you base yourself. Here’s how it breaks down: Medina The historic heart. A dense, looping maze of riads, souks, rooftops and constant motion. You’re steps from Jemaa el-Fnaa, the Koutoubia Mosque, and the full sensory overload Marrakech is famous for. Best for: immersion, rooftops, atmosphere Not ideal if you: need quiet, drive daily, or have a dog (access can be tricky) Gueliz Modern Marrakech. Wide streets, grid layout, boutiques, brunch spots, sushi, nail salons, rooftop bars. European influence is visible in architecture and lifestyle. Best for: digital nomads, longer stays, cafe culture, easier navigation Dog-friendly. More manageable than the medina, but still limited indoors. Hivernage Polished and upscale. Five-star hotels, private villas, manicured gardens, nightlife spots. Feels more curated and resort-like. Best for: luxury stays, pool days, polished evenings Palmeraie Palm groves and private compounds on the outskirts. Space, quiet, villas with pools. You’ll need a car. Best for: privacy, retreats, decompressing Golf Resorts / Outskirts (like where I stayed) Gated complexes, green space, security, parking. Practical if you’re road-tripping with a car and dog. Feels removed from the medina chaos. Best for: driving travellers, digital nomads needing space, slower mornings before heading into the city Quick Take: Want intensity? Stay in the Medina Want balance? Base yourself in Gueliz Want quiet and space? Head outward Marrakech isn’t one mood. It’s several. Choosing the right neighbourhood changes everything. Notes from the Road: Marrakech Marrakech doesn’t introduce itself gently. It throws you straight into colour, sound, heat, negotiation, beauty.  It’s a city of extremes. The medina runs at full voltage: scooters threading through crowds, spices stacked in pyramids, terrace views above the noise. Then you step into Gueliz and the pace shifts to grid streets, brunch spots, nail salons, sushi bars, rooftop cocktails. Same city, different frequency. For me, Marrakech was exactly what the title promised: beauty and chaos. It’s not polished. It’s not linear. But that’s the point. Would I stay in the medina next time? Maybe. Would I choose Airbnb over Booking.com after a plumbing incident? Definitely. Would I come back? Yes, without hesitation. Marrakech is layered, kinetic and unapologetic and if you let it, it leaves a mark. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next stop: Essaouira

The Drive North: Rabat to Casablanca The drive from Rabat to Casablanca is short, just over an hour. Somewhere between cities, the car had picked up the unmistakable Moroccan layer of fine brown dust, the kind every car collects after a few weeks on the road. A sign it’s been used properly. Along this stretch, people stand by the roadside, waving as you pass, offering car washes. I pulled over. While the car was cleaned, I sat at a small cafe facing the road with a Moroccon mint tea, surrounded by locals doing the same thing; sitting, watching, passing time. The wash took about twenty minutes. When it was done, the car felt reset. Clean again. Ready. As I drove further in, Casablanca opened out. Wide roads lined with palm trees. Modern blocks and cafes stacked into the city rather than spilling out from a historic core. It felt cosmopolitan in a way the other cities hadn’t. Less medina-first, more built for movement. Casablanca is one of Morocco’s newer cities, shaped as much by the 20th century as anything older. You feel that immediately.  Settling In: A Home Base in Casablanca I checked into my Airbnb on Rue Prince du Jour, tucked into a central residential pocket of Casablanca. The apartment opened into warmth: wood-panelled walls, soft lighting, clean lines with a mid-century feel. Outside, the neighbourhood felt lived-in with small cafes spilling onto the pavement, corner shops, locals drifting with no sense of rush. After weeks on the road, it suited me perfectly. It felt like somewhere you could settle, and start moving through the city properly rather than skimming its surface. First Steps in Casablanca After dropping the bags, Roly and I headed straight back out to get a feel for the neighbourhood. We stopped at Soo Beef for a late bite, casual and unfussy. On the way back, I picked up a bottle of wine from Aperik Casablanca, one of those local wine shops that quietly signals the city’s more cosmopolitan side. By the time we walked home, the light had softened and the pace of the street had eased. Casablanca felt easy to slip into. It was the kind of first evening that doesn’t try to impress, it just lets you arrive. Casablanca, From Morning to Midnight The next day kicked off with coffee at % Arabica Casablanca, right on Boulevard d’Anfa. Bright, modern, sharply designed, the kind of spot that immediately sets the tone for Casablanca. Good coffee, city energy already switched on. From there, I headed to Arab League Park on a date with Jamie, a guy from Bristol who’d also escaped the British winter and was spending a couple of months travelling through Morocco. The park felt like neutral ground, where conversation can move as freely as you do. We walked, talked, looped without really noticing the route. Locals passed by in every direction: families, couples, runners, friends meeting mid-path. It’s one of Casablanca’s rare pauses of green in a city that otherwise runs on wide roads and forward motion, and it worked perfectly as a starting point.  By early afternoon, the Atlantic became the plan. We landed at Bianca Café, set right beside Plage Lalla Meryem, and let the day run on its own terms. This part of the coast is pure Casablanca. Busy tables, mixed crowds, wine poured freely, conversations stretching long past lunch. The ocean sits right there in view, anchoring the scene while the city carries on around it. We walked the beach as the light began to shift. Horses and camels moved along the shoreline, riders cutting clean silhouettes against the Atlantic. Families and couples claimed patches of sand, angling for the best view as the sun dropped toward the horizon. As dusk set in, we peeled back inland. Dinner was at Yoobi Sushi, followed by cocktails at Chez Fred. It was Casablanca in full flow. Coffee to park. Park to ocean. Ocean to night. Wide streets, palm-lined avenues, constant movement. A city that doesn’t slow down, it just changes gear. Casablanca, Between the Moments The rest of my time in Casablanca came from moving through the city, not ticking it off. Window shopping turned into repeat passes along neighbourhood streets lined with independent fashion boutiques, sharp tailoring, European silhouettes, unexpected details that didn’t need explaining. Daily food markets slipped naturally into the pattern. Crates of fruit stacked high, familiar faces reappearing. Casablanca reveals itself in fragments like that: a mural cutting across a blank wall, a mosque minaret rising between apartment blocks, a pocket park carving green space through concrete. Meals anchored the days. A long lunch at Vichos Casablanca, tapas designed to stretch an afternoon without trying to. Pastries at Guest Pastry Bakery, locals drifting in and out with purpose. Casablanca eats well, often, and without fuss. Match Night: Casablanca After Dark That night, the city flipped into full celebration mode. I caught Morocco’s Africa Cup of Nations semi-final on my laptop. When the final whistle went and Morocco took the win, Casablanca answered instantly. Cars flooded the roads, horns blaring in waves. Flags appeared from windows, draped over bonnets, pulled from nowhere. The noise carried late into the night, joyous, relentless, impossible to ignore. It echoed the same charged celebrations I’d witnessed previously in Rabat, the city moving as one, pride loud and unapologetic. Next up is the final. I’ll be watching that one from Marrakech.  Notes from the Road: Casablanca First impression: Big, modern, and confident. Palm-lined boulevards, wide roads, constant motion.  Neighbourhood life: Lived-in streets beat landmarks. Cafes on corners, food markets on repeat, the same faces appearing day after day. That’s where the city clicks. Style watch: Independent fashion boutiques quietly set the tone, clean tailoring, European silhouettes, nothing trying too hard. Casablanca knows how to dress. Food rhythm: Long lunches turn into late afternoons. Tapas, sushi, pastries, wine shops you’ll revisit without planning to. Eating here is casual but deliberate. Coastline energy: Urban beach culture. Lunch slides into sunset, horses and camels crossing the frame like it’s normal. Overall: Casablanca is modern, functional, and cosmopolitan, a city best experienced by moving without agenda and letting the days stack naturally. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next stop: Marrakech

The Drive South: Asilah to Rabat Leaving Asilah behind, I headed south towards Rabat. The drive took a little over two hours and felt straightforward. The kind of road that lets your mind wander while the kilometres quietly pass.  Fishing towns dotted the route, appearing and disappearing just off the main road. About an hour in, I pulled over at Moulay Bousselham for lunch. I stopped at La Terrasse, right on the beachfront. The area felt relaxed and functional rather than polished. Lunch was seafood, with a clear view of the water. It broke up the drive perfectly. Back on the road, things gradually began to shift. The closer I got to Rabat, the more structured everything felt. Roads widened, traffic increased, and the pace subtly changed. You could feel the transition from coastal towns to capital city without needing a sign to tell you. Driving into Rabat, the difference was immediate. One of the first landmarks you pass is the royal residence, with guards stationed outside and staff tending carefully kept grounds. After the softness of Asilah, Rabat felt composed and deliberate. Not loud, not chaotic, just purposeful. A clear shift into the next chapter.  Arriving in Rabat: A Central Base I checked into my Airbnb in the centre of Rabat, firmly rooted in the city’s everyday rhythm. Rabat is more spread out than Asilah, less about drifting and more about moving with intention. The beach wasn’t on the doorstep, it was around a 30-minute walk away. What was close was the city itself. Shops, bakeries, cafes, and practical errands were all within easy walking distance, giving the area a lived-in, functional feel rather than anything curated for visitors. Geographically, it felt like a midpoint. A place to return to, reset, and head back out again. Match Night in Rabat That evening, Rabat came alive. Morocco was playing in the quarter-final of the Africa Cup of Nations, Africa’s equivalent of the Euros. When Morocco won, the reaction was instant and unstoppable. Car horns echoed through the streets in constant waves. People spilled outside, cheering, singing, waving flags, celebrating together. The noise rolled on well into the early hours of the morning. It was impossible not to feel how much it meant. This wasn’t just a football match; it was pride, unity, and shared identity playing out in real time. Standing there, watching it all unfold, I found myself completely swept up in it. From that point on, I followed the rest of the tournament closely, and of course, I was rooting for Morocco all the way. First Impressions: Rules, Rain & Resetting Expectations My first day in Rabat was spent wandering the neighbourhood, getting a feel for the city. Almost immediately, one thing became clear: Rabat is not dog-friendly. Not in shops, not in cafes, not in restaurants, and not even on terraces. It was a stark contrast to places like Asilah and Europe, and honestly, my biggest shock so far in Morocco. Being the capital, it makes sense; rules feel more present here, more firmly observed, and that naturally shapes how you move through the city. It definitely limited my options. With Roly in tow, spontaneous cafe stops or lingering lunches weren’t possible. Add to that it was a cold, wet day, damp pavements and the start felt a little tougher than I’d hoped. Luckily, I found a solution nearby: Tangier’s Bocadillos, just a ten-minute walk from the apartment. Fresh wraps made to order, quick, warm, and exactly what I needed. I took lunch back to the Airbnb, sheltered from the rain, and reset. It wasn’t the most cinematic first day, but that’s travel too. We were only here for a couple of days, and despite the slower, more restricted start, I was still determined to make the most of Rabat, even if it meant adjusting expectations and pace. Rabat, Between the Plans The next few days in Rabat were actually some of my most productive. With Roly being a hard no in most attractions, I naturally slowed down. Instead of fighting it, I leaned in. I stayed in, put my head down, powered through client work, updated this blog, and cooked proper meals again. All hail Glovo for making that part easy. The Airbnb helped. It was spacious, had a balcony, and didn’t feel claustrophobic, a decent setup for a few low-key days after months of near-constant movement on the road. It felt grounding in a way I didn’t realise I needed. Around that time, I’d also befriended a Moroccan guy, Simo. He lives in Rabat, works as a surf instructor, and suggested we meet later in the week when the weather improved. The plan was: harbour, medina, souk, beach to see the city, with someone who knows it well. When Rabat Opened Up When the sun came back later in the week, Rabat shifted again. I met Simo and we headed out properly, starting along the Bouregreg Corniche. This is where the city breathes a bit. The river is wide, restaurants line the edge with people walking, talking and passing time. It felt social, but not showy. Rabat at ease. From there, we walked up into the Kasbah of the Udayas, a 12th-century fortress built to defend Rabat’s coastline, now one of the city’s most recognisable historic quarters. The shift is immediate with heavy stone walls, palm-lined steps, then a sudden wash of white and blue. Narrow lanes, weathered doors, cats stretched out in the sun. Inside the kasbah, the city noise drops away. It feels enclosed, almost self-contained, perched between river and ocean. We stopped for traditional Moroccan mint tea overlooking the water, the Atlantic stretching out beyond the walls, one of those pauses that lands exactly where it should. Down at the Beach We walked down from the kasbah onto the sand, where Rabat feels stripped back. The beach sits right where the river empties into the Atlantic, so the water is darker and restless, constantly shifting. It’s not the kind of place you come to sunbathe. People were walking, standing, watching the tide, letting dogs run, kicking a ball around. Above us, the kasbah walls stayed fixed and heavy, like the city was still keeping an eye on the ocean. Into the Medina From the beach, we headed back inland and slipped into the Rabat medina. Shops bled into each other: baskets stacked high, trays of nuts and sweets, snacks and household goods packed tightly behind glass counters. People moved with purpose, shopping, chatting, stopping mid-walk to greet someone. There was no hard sell, no pressure to buy. Just stalls open to the street, food sizzling, and the quiet chaos of a place that functions first and entertains second. We wandered without a plan, cutting down side alleys, stopping to look, moving on again. It felt real, unfiltered and exactly the kind of place that rewards curiosity instead of rushing you through it. At the Hassan Tower We ended at the Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, one of Rabat’s most symbolic sites. The 12th-century minaret rises from an open square of stone columns. Beside it, the Mausoleum of Mohammed V feels pristine and ceremonial. Guards watch while visitors move slowly around the space, instinctively lowering their voices. Pigeons lift off and resettle against the ancient walls. It's a place where Rabat’s political, religious, and historical layers meet in one wide, open breath. Notes from the Road: Rabat Rabat asked for adjustment. It wasn’t instantly easy, especially travelling with a dog, and it didn’t offer the same softness or spontaneity as Asilah. It’s a city shaped by rules, structure, and function, and you feel that quickly. But once I stopped expecting it to behave like a coastal town and let it be what it is, Rabat made more sense. It’s a capital first. Purposeful. Grounded. Lived in. A place where daily life runs alongside history rather than being built around it. What stayed with me most was the contrast. Quiet working days followed by streets erupting in celebration for football. Administrative order balanced by moments of warmth, generosity, and connection. Ancient sites woven directly into modern routines. Nothing polished for show, but plenty to notice if you paid attention. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next stop: Casablanca. 

Early Morning Crossing to Morocco The alarm went off early. Bags packed, car loaded, Tarifa still quiet. I drove north along the coast to Algeciras as the sky started to lighten, ports silhouetted against soft colour. Check-in was straightforward, and before long we were boarding the ferry with Balearia. Roly settled quickly, watching the activity from the deck as the harbour pulled away behind us. The crossing itself took just under an hour and a half. Spain faded into the distance, and slowly the outline of Morocco came into view. A passport stamp, a change in weather, a sense of crossing into somewhere new.  By late morning, we were pulling into Tangier Med. Africa, officially reached. The Drive: Tangier Med to Asilah Once off the ferry at Tangier Med, the road south towards Asilah takes just over an hour. The drive quickly became less about getting somewhere and more about taking it in. Goats and cows wandered across the road, people walked the verges, and the landscape stretched out in greens and soft hills. It felt like crossing into a completely different pace of life. That pace carried straight into Asilah Arrival in Asilah I stayed at a guesthouse called Maison d'hotes Berbari just beyond the town edge, off the beaten path and firmly part of everyday Morocco. Local homes nearby, animals moving through the land and life unfolding around you. Peacocks wandered the grounds. Roosters cut through the mornings. Dogs slept wherever the shade landed. From the nearby mosque, the call to prayer drifted in at regular intervals. Breakfast was communal and generous. A full spread, and a mix of guests who naturally ended up talking from French and Spanish families, young couples, travellers passing through, and the owners’ dogs drifting between chairs. No forced interaction, just shared space done well. Evenings revolved around home-cooked Moroccan food. Tagines, slow-cooked meats, dishes made to be eaten together. We gathered in the main living and dining room with log wood and fire going, records playing, the room lively without being performative. It wasn’t a stay built around activities or “must-dos.” It worked because it felt honest, shaped by the people running it, the land it sat on, and the everyday routines unfolding around it. New Year’s Eve New Year’s Eve was spent at the guesthouse, gathered with the other guests and, inevitably, the dogs in an easy, celebratory mood. Dinner was a proper home-cooked beef tagine, rich and comforting, shared around the table. Later, I caught up with friends and family on the phone back in England, slipping between conversations and the room around me. It felt balanced and grounded. No rush, no excess, just good food, familiar voices, and a calm sense of closing one chapter and opening another. A solid way to see in the New Year, and the right lead-in to a full day of exploring Asilah the next day.  New Year’s Day: Exploring Asilah  New Year’s Day was spent on foot, getting a feel for Asilah. Blue doors against white walls, cats stretched across doorsteps and car bonnets, unbothered and unmoved. Each turn revealed something different, small details stacking into a strong sense of place. Asilah Medina I wandered into the medina. This isn’t a hectic souk like Marrakech or Fez. It’s residential, artistic, and distinctly Asilah. The lanes are lined with whitewashed buildings edged in blue, a colour code that’s become part of the town’s identity. Small stalls sit open selling snacks, scarves, ceramics, paintings, and clothing. Nothing is stacked on top of itself. It’s spaced out, easy to browse, easy to move through. Art shows up everywhere, but casually. Painted doors. Murals on corners. Framed pieces leaning against walls as if they’ve always been there. It’s woven into the fabric of the place. Creativity feels lived in. I wandered without a plan, doubling back, cutting down side streets, letting the medina open and close around me. Asilah’s Murals & Painted Streets The murals appear without warning. One street looks ordinary, the next opens onto a wall painted with fish, birds, faces, geometric shapes, coastal scenes. Much of this comes from Asilah’s long-running International Cultural Festival, where artists are invited to paint directly onto the medina walls. What makes it different is what happens after. The art stays. It fades. It peels. It gets painted over, reworked, replaced. Some pieces look fresh. Others clearly carry years of weather. A painted wall might belong to someone’s home. A doorway becomes part of the artwork. A mural wraps around a corner and disappears into everyday life. You turn down one lane and catch something new. Walk the same route later and notice what you missed before. The medina doesn’t stay still, it shifts through layers. Above the Medina From the medina, I climbed a set of stone steps that led up to the ramparts. The view opened suddenly. The Atlantic stretched out below, the beach running along the base of the old walls. Asilah stacked up in white and blue. Down to the Water I walked out of the medina and followed the path down to the Plage d’Asilah. A group of locals were gathered on the sand playing steel pan drums, the sound carrying across the beach. Nearby, kids were mid–football game, running barefoot, shouting, laughing, stopping only when the ball rolled too close to the water. There was movement everywhere. It felt open, social, alive. Roly immediately was in full joy mode, sprinting the length of the beach, charging into the waves, then racing back out again before repeating the whole thing. He didn’t hesitate once. Wet paws, sandy fur, completely in his element. A young Moroccan boy came over and started throwing a stick for him. We got chatting. He spoke four languages, very impressive. It was one of those easy, unforced exchanges that just happens. That’s something that kept standing out in Asilah. The friendliness felt genuine. From people on the beach, to locals in the streets, to the guesthouse owners, conversations started easily and kindness felt baked in. The town felt open, welcoming, and comfortable to be in. Just along the edge of the beach is Port d’Asilah, the town’s fishing harbour, where rows of small blue fishing boats are moored along the water. We strolled past it for a while, then headed back into town to find somewhere for lunch. Late Lunch at Dar Al Maghrebia I headed back into town for a late lunch at Dar Al Maghrebia, tucked into a small lane just off the medina and grabbed a table on the terrace. I ordered a seafood tagine, rich and tomato-based, served with fresh bread and lemon. Around us, tables filled and emptied on repeat. It had that mid-afternoon energy, lively and felt like a fitting end to a day spent wandering before heading back to the guest lodge.  Working Days & Wandering Further The rest of my time in Asilah settled into a steady pattern. Mornings working from the guesthouse, afternoons drifting back out into town or along the coast. It’s an easy place to balance both. One morning I stepped outside and there was a donkey tied up beside my car, calmly grazing. Not something you see often in the UK. Back in town, lunches stretched long. I stopped in at Port XIV Restaurant, and watched the harbour activity drift past. Other days were spent on the beach watching the surfers, kids running football matches across the sand, and sunsets. One day, I drove further along the coast towards La plage de Sidi Mghait, just outside town. A line of beach restaurants, including Chiringuito Morchid, sat facing the sea, all shuttered for winter. With no crowds and no soundtrack beyond the waves and wind, it felt like seeing the coast in its in-between state; stripped back, unfiltered, and entirely itself. Why Asilah Stuck With Me  💌 Asilah stayed with me because nothing felt curated for show. Life unfolded in front of you on the streets, along the coast, inside the medina without needing to be explained or packaged. It’s a place where daily life and visitors overlap naturally. You’re not separated from it. You’re walking through it. People stop to talk. Kids play football on the beach. Fishermen move in and out of the harbour. Artists paint directly onto walls. Conversations happen easily and kindness shows up without effort. From the women running the guesthouse to strangers stopping to chat as you pass, there’s a sense of ease that’s hard to manufacture. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next route: Rabat

Arriving in Tarifa The drive from Sevilla to Tarifa took around two and a half hours. The road heads steadily south through open countryside before the landscape opens up and the Atlantic begins to press closer. Tarifa sits at the very edge of Europe, where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic and Africa feels close enough to see across the water.  The pace changes immediately. Tarifa feels stripped back in the best way; fewer layers, more air, more space. Where I Stayed: Los Lances / Dunes Area I stayed at Iceberg Luxury Dunes, just behind Playa de Los Lances on the northern edge of Tarifa. The location sits neatly between the beach and the main road into town. Free private parking is a big plus here, and getting in and out of Tarifa is straightforward. From the apartment, it’s an easy walk to the wide, open stretch of sand, with views out toward the Atlantic and you’re close enough to the Old Town to wander in on foot. Beach Time in Tarifa The next day was given entirely to the beach. Roly went straight into the water, charging through the shallows like he’d been waiting for this exact moment, then sprinting back across the sand without a care in the world. I grabbed a coffee from a small beach bar perched right on the dunes and sat watching the light change; clouds thick and dramatic one minute, soft breaks of sun the next. People were scattered, never crowded. A few walkers in the distance, dogs off lead, the sea stretching wide and calm. It wasn’t about doing much at all. Just being there and letting the day unfold slowly, with nowhere else to be. Wandering the Old Town The next day was spent entirely in Tarifa’s old town, wandering without any agenda. Whitewashed streets, cobbles underfoot, small independent boutiques spilling colour onto the pavement with clothing, jewellery, ceramics, and surf-inflected finds tucked into every corner. It’s compact and the kind of place where you keep turning into “just one more street” and find something worth stopping for. Lunch was at El Lola – Bar de Tapas y Flamenco, lively, with tables pressed close and a steady flow of conversation. I ordered the red tuna which is a local speciality here and a big part of Tarifa’s food identity. This stretch of coast is famous for almadraba tuna, an ancient, sustainable fishing method used for centuries, and the tuna is treated with the kind of respect it deserves: simply prepared, rich, clean, and full of flavour. After lunch, it was back out into the streets to more shops, more colour, people drifting in and out of bars and bakeries. Tarifa’s old town doesn’t feel curated or polished. It feels lived in and social, exactly what makes wandering it so satisfying. Wandering the Marina The day started at Cafe Azul one of those places that immediately earns a return visit. Good coffee, well-judged plates, and a relaxed, design-led space that makes it easy to settle in longer than intended. From there, I headed towards the marina, following Tarifa’s coastal edge. It’s a different face of Tarifa, less enclosed than the old town, more open, more expansive. The walk rolled straight onto the beach, where everything stretches out. I stopped at Balneario Beach Club for a glass of cava, sitting with the sea in front of me and nowhere else to be. As evening set in, I headed back into town for dinner at Restaurante La Pescadería. A classic, seafood spot where the focus stays firmly on the produce. Fresh fish prepared, and the kind of place that feels rooted in Tarifa rather than styled for it. A relaxed, satisfying way to close the day. After dinner, I finished the night with a drink at Bossa Bar. Low-lit, laid-back, and the kind of place that works perfectly for a final glass before calling it. An easy end to the evening, very Tarifa. Crossing Ahead: From Tarifa to Africa With Morocco next on the route, it was time to get practical. Before leaving Tarifa, I took the car in for a quick check at Automoción Piñero Peinado. Nothing major, just a once-over for peace of mind before crossing continents. Back at the apartment, bags were repacked, essentials double-checked, and everything set up for an early start. The plan: an early-morning drive to Algeciras, then the ferry across to Tangier. Tarifa at a Glance: How the Town Breaks Down Tarifa is small, but each area feels distinct: Casco Antiguo (Old Town) This is the heart of Tarifa with narrow streets, whitewashed buildings, tapas bars, wine spots, and boutiques. It’s lively, social, and compact. Best for wandering and atmosphere.  Los Lances / Beachside North Open, spacious, and breezier. This is where you’ll find long beaches, kite surfers, walkers, and a slower pace. It’s more functional and liveable. Residential South (towards Punta Paloma) Quieter, more spread out, and closer to nature. This area feels more local and is better suited to people prioritising space over proximity to town life. Notes from the Road: Tarifa Days were shaped by the sea, the old town, and good food without fuss. Mornings started easy, afternoons stretched out along the water, evenings slipped naturally into tapas, wine, and familiar faces. There’s a clarity to Tarifa. Nothing tries too hard. Life stays close to the elements; sea salt, sun, movement and that simplicity sharpens everything else. It was the right place to pause, check the car, repack bags, and mentally turn the page. From here, the route shifts. New borders. Africa.  Now, it’s time for the next route. Next stop Asilah.

Arrival in Sevilla: Settling Into the Casco Antiguo The drive from Granada to Sevilla took around three hours, and somewhere along the way the landscape softened. The mountains fell back, the air warmed again, and Andalucía opened out into wide plains. Sevilla is Andalucía’s capital, a city built up in layers. Roman foundations, centuries of Moorish rule, then the wealth of the Spanish Empire flowing in through the Guadalquivir. You feel all of it straight away, not as something preserved or put on display, but as part of daily life. Churches sit beside bars. Apartment blocks rise next to old courtyards. History isn’t separated or spotlighted it just exists, woven into the streets people still live on. Sevilla doesn’t pause to explain itself or point things out. You notice it by walking through it, by sitting down for a drink, by paying attention. Living Inside the Casco Antiguo I based myself right in Sevilla’s Casco Antiguo, at Jesús del Gran Poder. This part of the city feels immediate and textured with cobbled streets, facades painted in warm yellows, terracotta and soft pinks and corners marked by graffiti.  Christmas was threaded through it. A tree stood in the square. Lights were strung overhead. Temporary ice rinks and market stalls appeared where streets opened out, folding into daily life. From the apartment, wandering felt instinctive. Streets curve and narrow, opening onto record shops, vintage and antique boutiques, hand-painted doors, posters layered in windows, flashes of colour everywhere you look. Dogs move confidently through it all. People slow down, stop to talk, browse, linger. The days shift naturally. Mornings pull you towards markets, cafes and small shops. I stopped for cakes at Horno Nueva Florida. Afternoons are for walking with no plan at all, just following streets until they lead somewhere else. By evening, bars glow from inside, conversations spill outward, music drifts through open doors. After a dog walk with Roly, I grabbed a quick drink at Las Columnas Sevilla and watched the street settle into night. Nothing here feels staged. It’s layered, interesting, colourful, and magnetic. A place you don’t tour so much as slip into and stay with. Christmas Eve in Sevilla Christmas Eve morning started on Calle Baños, a short walk from the apartment and already buzzing by mid-morning. This stretch of street is all about food: butcher shops, fishmongers, bakeries, cheese counters, fruit stacked high in crates with every doorway busy, every counter lined with locals working through last-minute lists. In much of Europe, Christmas Eve is the main event: the late dinner, the wine, and the main family gatherings. It’s a different emphasis to the UK, where the 25th has most of the Christmas celebrations.  I stopped into Carnicería El Origen and ordered steaks and sausages, then picked up eggs and Iberian ham from neighbouring shops so I could put together something simple on Christmas Day. I already had dinner booked for that evening at Alcázar Andalusí Tapas, so this was about preparing for the quieter day that followed. The rest of the afternoon unfolded on foot, wandering without urgency, letting the streets lead the way. By early evening, the city had shifted gears. I headed out for Christmas dinner and took a seat on the heated terrace at Alcázar Andalusí Tapas, facing the street. Around me, Sevilla was buzzing, locals lingering over pre-dinner drinks, groups greeting each other mid-street, laughter carrying between tables before everyone peeled off home for long family nights ahead. There was a joyful energy in the air. Dinner stretched easily into drinks, with the terrace glowing against the night. From there, I crossed the road to Café Hércules, already packed inside and spilling out onto the pavement. I got chatting with a few people, which quickly turned into a small group, and we decided to wander to the nearby square and continue drinks at Copa 66, where music drifted out onto the street. We sat outside on the terrace as new faces joined, conversations overlapped, songs were sung enthusiastically, and laughter bounced around the square.  It was an easy, joyful night. My first European Christmas, shared in a city I was already starting to fall for.  Christmas Day in Sevilla Christmas Day arrived bright and sunny. I was tired, a little foggy from the night before, but Sevilla doesn’t allow for staying in. By afternoon, I was back out on the streets, drawn towards the centre for a slow wander and a proper lunch. I stopped at Maestro Marcelino, a place that instantly felt grounded and impressive. Inside, rows of hanging jamón framed the bar and bottles lined the shelves. I grabbed a table by the window, perfectly placed to watch the street unfold. Outside, the city moved at an easy pace. Pedestrians wandered past in no hurry, and at one point several horse-drawn carriages rolled through. The view alone felt like part of the meal. The food matched the setting, classic tapas done properly. Thoughtful, well-executed dishes with attentive service. This felt like the kind of place you would return to because it delivers without trying too hard. Hungover or not, it was exactly how Christmas Day should feel here: unforced, sunlit, and quietly celebratory. Another layer of Sevilla revealing itself and another reason I was already falling in love with the city. Letting Sevilla Unfold The rest of the day flowed into wandering, the kind where Sevilla kept presenting itself without asking you to decide where to go next. Flamenco surfaced in the open. A dancer held a small square in complete focus, her movements sharp and deliberate, the rhythm carried by guitar and voice close behind her. Flamenco belongs to Andalucía shaped by Roma, Moorish, Jewish and Andalusian histories. People gathered quietly, watched for a while, then moved on, as if this were simply part of the city’s daily texture. Green space cut through the day too. Parque de María Luisa appeared between streets and buildings, its tiled fountains and shaded paths offering a pause without breaking the flow of the city. Built for the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition, locals and tourists walked dogs, crossed through on errands, stopped briefly on benches.  At some point the scale shifted upward. The Catedral de Sevilla came into view. Built on the site of a former mosque and finished as a declaration of imperial confidence. Standing beneath it, the detail reveals itself slowly: carvings softened by time, stone warmed by late afternoon light, shadows pulling texture out of the façade. Around it, the city carried on. Horse-drawn carriages moved at an unhurried pace. Streets filled and emptied without urgency. Christmas lights threaded through the architecture. The celebrations folded neatly into everyday life. Sevilla continued to reveal itself in layers with movement, sound, history and light. You just keep going, and the city keeps meeting you where you are. Leaving Sevilla Boxing Day arrived quickly. I checked out of the apartment, loaded up the car, and felt that familiar mix of readiness and reluctance that comes with short stays that land well. Sevilla had been brief, but it left its mark. It didn't need much time to make itself felt, and one I know I’ll come back to. Before heading south, I stopped for breakfast at Restaurante El Paseíllo. After that, one last slow wander through the city in the winter sun. Familiar streets, golden light on stone, the city moving at its own pace. I passed beneath Las Setas de Sevilla, officially known as the Metropol Parasol, one of Sevilla’s newest and most debated landmarks. Modern, bold, and slightly surreal against the surrounding streets.  I ended with a glass of wine in the courtyard at Café Santa Marta Bar, sitting in the sun, letting the moment stretch just a little longer. Then it was time. Southbound again. Seville's Neighbourhoods At A Glance Seville is a city of distinct pockets, each with its own mood. Once you understand where you are, the city becomes easy to navigate and even easier to enjoy. Casco Antiguo The historic core and the emotional heart of the city. Narrow streets, churches, small plazas, bars, shops, street art, and everyday life layered tightly together. Lively from morning to late night, especially around food, drinks, and wandering without a plan. Santa Cruz The old Jewish quarter and postcard Seville. Whitewashed lanes, orange trees, quiet courtyards, and historic landmarks like the Cathedral and Alcázar nearby. Beautiful, atmospheric, and busier during the day. El Arenal Set between the historic centre and the Guadalquivir River. Close to bullring culture, traditional tapas bars, and river walks. Central but slightly more open, with a mix of locals, visitors, and long-standing institutions. Triana Across the river and proudly its own thing. Known for flamenco roots, ceramics, local bars, and strong neighbourhood identity. Less polished, more personality. One of the best places for traditional food and evening atmosphere. Alameda de Hércules Social, alternative, and relaxed. A wide square lined with bars, cafes, and terraces where locals gather day and night. Younger energy, less traditional, very lived-in. Macarena Residential and authentic, with historic walls, local markets, and fewer tourists. Good for seeing everyday Seville away from the main sights, while still staying walkable to the centre. Los Remedios Calmer and more residential, across the river from the centre. Broad streets, local shops, and daily routines. Not a sightseeing area, but a good snapshot of modern Sevillian life. Nervión More contemporary and practical. Shopping centres, offices, and transport hubs. Useful rather than atmospheric, but well connected. Why Seville Stuck With Me  💌 Seville stayed with me in a way I didn’t expect, not because of one standout moment, but because of how the city felt as I moved through it. It carries its history lightly. You sense it in the architecture, the rhythm of the streets, and the way people gather without rushing. Mornings are unhurried, afternoons stretch long, and evenings feel made for wandering with no destination in mind. There’s an undeniable cool to Seville; effortless, confident, and completely unforced. And long after leaving, it lingers. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next route: Tarifa.

Valencia → Alicante The drive from Valencia to Alicante is short and straightforward, just over two hours south. It’s mostly motorway, cutting inland through open stretches of countryside before dropping back towards the coast. Easy enough to feel effortless, long enough to mark a clear shift. Alicante: A Coastal Pause Alicante was a short stop en route to Seville, a way to break up the longer drive south and stretch the journey rather than rush it. I checked in on Saturday 20 December and stayed through to Monday 22 December, just enough time to reset by the sea before the Christmas leg began. I based myself by San Juan Beach, staying at Hotel Almirante, which turned out to be a great choice for a short stay. It was less than a five minute walk to the beach which made slipping into seaside mode almost automatic. Lunch at Barrazero Bistro After checking in, I didn’t waste any time. Roly and I headed straight out for lunch at Barrazero Bistro, and it delivered. The terrace was relaxed and sun-soaked, the kind of place that immediately puts you at ease. The food followed suit; fresh, flavoursome, and well judged. I started with mussels in an Oporto escabeche that added depth without overpowering them. Pickled onion and herbs lifted the dish, keeping everything balanced and clean. The scallops came cooked on the plancha, properly seared and finished with a small amount of seasoned butter; sweet, clean, and left alone to speak for themselves. I also ordered Galician razor clams, served in a soft yuzu beurre blanc. Rich but not heavy, with just enough citrus to cut through the sauce without pulling focus from the clams. All coupled with a glass of cava. Roly settled beside the table without fuss, welcomed easily by the staff. Service was relaxed and attentive, never intrusive. It felt like an easy start. Unforced, well paced, and exactly what this stop in Alicante needed to be. San Juan: Sand, Sea & Sunset Evenings Naturally, the rest of my time in Alicante unfolded almost entirely around the beach. Mornings were quiet and spacious; people walking along the shoreline, dogs racing across the sand, early swimmers easing into the water. By afternoon, volleyball games appeared, others stretched out simply to watch the sea.  Breakfasts set the tone. Both mornings started at Cafe Willow or Dolci Garipier, easy spots for coffee, something sweet or savoury, and watching the day gather momentum. Later, as the light softened, evenings often ended with a glass of wine at Xaloc Lounge, right on the beachfront, the sky shifting colour while conversations drifted around us. Dinner, though, was better approached with a little intention. While the beachfront restaurants look tempting, I’d skip them. The food is noticeably stronger just a few minutes inland. Places like Barrazero Bistro, La Vaquería Mediterránea, Restaurante Nova Queimada, and Nómada Local Food & Funky Drinks all offer better cooking, and a more local feel without straying far from the sea. Days blurred into a simple pattern: long walks, salty swims for Roly, wine at sunset, and unhurried meals. For a short stop between cities, Alicante didn’t ask for much and gave exactly what was needed. Alicante Neighbourhoods at a Glance El Barrio / Casco Antiguo (Old Town) Historic, lively, and atmospheric. Narrow streets, colourful houses, tapas bars, and nightlife tucked beneath the castle. Great for short stays and evenings out, but can be noisy late at night. Centro / Ensanche Diputación The practical heart of the city. Flat, walkable streets with shops, cafes, restaurants, and everyday amenities. Well connected and ideal if you want convenience without the party feel. Explanada & Port Area Palm-lined promenades, marina views, and a polished, postcard Alicante feel. Popular with visitors and great for strolling, dining, and being close to the sea. Playa del Postiguet City beach living. Central, buzzy, and scenic with easy access to the Old Town and centre. Busy in summer but unbeatable for location. San Juan Beach (Playa de San Juan) More spacious and residential with long sandy beaches. Modern apartments, cafes, and a relaxed pace. About 20–25 minutes from the centre by tram, ideal for longer stays. Albufereta Quieter coastal area between the city and San Juan. Residential, local, and calm, with tram access and smaller beaches. Benalúa Local, residential, and less touristy. Good value accommodation, bakeries, and everyday life. Not beachfront, but well connected. Notes from the Road: Alicante Alicante feels instantly easy. The city is compact, flat, and built for wandering perfect for beach walks or socialising on the promenade. There’s a relaxed feel here that doesn’t demand a plan. The next morning, it was back on the road. Next route: Granada. Alicante, Then South Briefly To Grenada From Alicante, I drove on to Granada. Just under four hours, cutting through wide open roads and long mountain stretches. What stayed with me most was the shift in weather, leaving sunshine behind and watching it turn, gradually, into colder air and distant snow-dusted peaks. It felt like crossing seasons in a single drive. Granada was only a one-night stop to break up the journey south to Seville. I stayed at Catalonia Granada, and had dinner nearby at Restaurante Granada Aylin Art Cuisine. Warm, cosy, excellent food and wine, the kind of place you’re grateful to find without needing to plan. After dinner, Roly and I walked to a nearby park with a fountain and monument glowing softly at night. Just a final stretch of the legs before resting up. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next route: Seville.

Barcelona → Valencia The drive from Barcelona to Valencia took just under four hours and was entirely motorway, which made it easy and relaxed. Once I’d left the city behind, the roads opened up quickly and the journey became one of those steady, uncomplicated drives where you can just settle in and let the kilometres pass. Arriving into Valencia, the difference was immediate. The city feels more open. Palm trees line wide roads, light bounces off pale buildings, and everything feels less compressed.  I got the sense that this would be an easy place to settle into, explore properly, and live in for a while rather than rush through. Valencia already felt like it had its own energy. Quieter than Barcelona, but confident. And very much its own thing. Settling In: Duplex City of Arts & Science I settled into a duplex apartment called Duplex City of Arts & Science, located in the Camins al Grau district. It’s a modern, residential pocket of Valencia that feels local and more everyday life.  The City of Arts & Sciences is about a 15-minute walk away and the beach at Platja de Llevant is roughly a 30 minute walk or 10 minute drive. It was the kind of base that felt well connected, bright, and easy to slip into Valencia without trying too hard. Wandering Valencia Day two was about walking without a plan and letting the city reveal itself. The neighbourhood around the apartment felt properly lived-in with residents chatting on corners, local shops ticking along at their own pace. Palm trees, basketball courts and bursts of colourful graffiti sat casually between apartment blocks, all under that bright Valencian light. Late morning drifted naturally into food, as it tends to here. I stopped at Taberna El Clavo, grabbed a table outside, and leaned into a very Spanish brunch: tortilla, bread, something grilled, and a glass of cava that felt entirely justified. Around me, conversations rolled on, and no one looked in a rush to be anywhere else. It was the kind of place where time stretches slightly, not because it’s trying to be charming, but because that’s just how people use it. An Evening at Casa Montaña That evening, I headed out for dinner on a date with a guy from Amsterdam who’d been living in Valencia for a while. He recommended tapas and drinks at Casa Montaña, a hidden gem in El Cabanyal. Casa Montaña has been around since the 1800s, and it feels it in the best way. Nothing here has been polished up or reworked. Tiled walls, wooden barrels, shelves of wine that look like they’ve been added to gradually, bottle by bottle, over time. We ordered the way you’re supposed to here, a few things at a time, glasses topped up, plates shared. The food was excellent, but what stood out more was the vibe of the place. Conversations overlapping, people leaning in, wonderfully friendly staff. You could tell this was somewhere people return to, not somewhere they “discover.” The evening unfolded easily. Good food, vermut, wine, stories traded back and forth about cities lived in and left behind. It felt distinctly Valencian. It was one of those evenings that slots neatly into a place’s story and the perfect end to my first day. Arts, Gardens & a Very Practical Detour Day three came with one clear priority: my MacBook charger had stopped working. Not dramatic, just urgent. When you’re working on the road, that cable is non-negotiable. I headed to Centro Comercial El Saler, right on the edge of the city, and went straight to K-tuin Valencia Saler. Problem solved. New charger in hand, momentum restored. What I didn’t expect was how workable the mall itself turned out to be. There’s a proper desk area built into the space with power points, room to spread out, people doing the same thing. I sat down and got some solid work done. Once that was handled, the day opened up. Step outside the mall and Valencia immediately shows another side. The Turia Gardens run straight through the city. A former riverbed repurposed after flooding in the 1950s and now one of Valencia’s best assets. Long paths, palms, sports courts, people walking dogs, cycling, stretching out the afternoon. It doesn’t feel curated. It feels used. From there, the city shifts again as the City of Arts and Sciences comes into view. Big, white, sculptural buildings sitting in sheets of blue water, sharp against the sky. Designed to make an impression, and it does. Even without going inside, walking through the complex feels like moving through a different version of Valencia: bolder, cleaner, more futuristic. Roly strolled along beside me, the sun stayed high, and the afternoon slipped by easily. A charger replaced, work done, and then hours outside taking in how this city actually functions; green space threaded through it, architecture that takes risks, and room for real life in between. Where the City Meets the Sea Spending time in Valencia inevitably pulls you towards the water. I headed out to Platja de Llevant, close enough to the city to reach easily but far enough to feel like a proper change of scene. Even in December, the weather held; warm enough for long walks along the sand, throwing a ball for Roly, or simply sitting facing the water with no agenda beyond switching off. Roly was immediately in his element, sprinting across the sand and paddling in the gentle waves. Time passed without any effort to track it, and food followed naturally. This stretch of coastline has plenty of places to eat, many with relaxed indoor–outdoor terraces. I stopped at Restaurante Sabbia Valencia, settling into a leisurely three-course lunch with fresh seafood, a glass of wine, and dessert to finish. The food was excellent. As the day shifted into evening, the nearby marina offered a different mood. Spots like Marina Beach Club and La Marina de València start to fill with music. It’s another layer of Valencia that reveals itself. A city that makes space for local life, good food, and time outside. Living in Valencia Staying in Valencia for eleven days shifted the pace completely. After the first few days of exploring, the rest of the time settled into something closer to everyday life.  Most days started with walks through the neighbourhood. Orange trees heavy with fruit lined residential streets, parks filled with people walking dogs, chatting on benches, passing time.  Roly got a groom at Tu Pet Estilismo de Mascotas. I booked a Thai massage at Thirak Thai Massage & Wellness, which turned out to be exactly what it promised; thorough, grounding, and very good at undoing weeks of driving and laptop posture. Food became less about “where to eat” and more about where we naturally ended up. Casual breakfasts at Planeta Café, tapas at El Castillo de las Tapas, and paella at Casa Bassa. One evening we went for something completely different, asian cuisine at Shintori Teppanyaki. There were plenty of in-between moments too. Leisurely shopping at department store El Corte Inglés, grabbing takeaway from Thai Tu Box, stopping for drinks at Il Cuore di Ruzafa as the neighbourhood eased into evening. I even squeezed in eyebrow threading at Lashes & Go Valencia, which was a nice treat. What stood out wasn’t a single moment, but how naturally Valencia accommodates daily life. Parks woven through the city, the beach close enough to drift in and out of, and futuristic architecture sitting comfortably alongside it all. After eleven days, that felt like its strongest quality. Valencia Neighbourhoods at a Glance Valencia is easy to understand once you get a feel for its neighbourhoods. Each area has its own personality, but they link together seamlessly, making it simple to move between different sides of the city without effort. El Carmen (Ciutat Vella / Old Town) The historic heart of Valencia. Narrow streets, small plazas, layers of Roman, Moorish, and medieval architecture. Lively without being overwhelming, especially in the evenings when people spill into bars and squares. Pla del Remei / Eixample (City Centre) Elegant, polished, and very walkable. Think wide avenues, boutiques, cafes, and classic buildings. This is the traditional city centre; refined, central, and easy to live from. Ruzafa Social, creative, and full of personality. Cafes by day, wine bars by night, and a strong neighbourhood feel throughout. One of the best areas for food, drinks, and feeling plugged into local life. El Cabanyal Coastal and characterful, shaped by its fishing-village past. Colourful façades, traditional taverns, and a strong sense of identity. Close to the beach and home to some of Valencia’s most loved long-standing spots. Camins al Grau / City of Arts & Sciences More open and residential, with modern buildings, wide streets, and easy access to green space, the Turia Gardens, and the beach. Practical, well connected, and ideal for longer stays. La Marina / Beach Areas (Malvarrosa & Patacona) Beach-first living. Long promenades, seafood restaurants, relaxed cafes, and space to breathe. Feels separate from the city in the best way, while still being easy to reach. Notes from the Road: Valencia Valencia offered space and balance with its mix of beaches, neighbourhoods, architecture and food all working together.  Enough energy to keep things interesting, enough space to make it sustainable. Now, it’s time for the next route. Next route: Alicante.