I flew into Casablanca with a week to explore Morocco and left with over 50 miles of walking behind me, countless photos, and a deep appreciation for tajine kefta and Moroccan salad—two dishes I came back to again and again.
The journey took me round-trip between Casablanca and Marrakech by train, with a few days in each city to explore on foot. From wide boulevards to narrow alleys, modern façades to centuries-old arches, Morocco’s cities unfold best at walking speed. I wandered without much of a plan, stopping often to take photos of whatever caught my eye—street art, tiled fountains, neon signs, or the occasional cat lounging in front of a market stall.
The train ride itself was a highlight. Packed with locals and travelers alike, conversations swirled in Arabic, French, English, and Berber. It was a reminder of how many cultures and histories intersect in this country. Watching the landscape shift through the window—from dense city blocks to open plains and desert edges—offered a whole different view of Morocco between destinations.
Marrakech, with its geometric architecture, palm-lined avenues, and bold public spaces, felt at once cinematic and grounded. Casablanca, by contrast, moved with the energy of a city constantly in motion—especially after sunset, when the streets lit up and cafés filled.
Food was its own form of exploration. I returned again and again to tajine kefta—meatballs stewed in tomato sauce with an egg cracked on top—served bubbling hot in clay pots. Alongside it, crisp Moroccan salads offered the perfect counterpoint: chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, and bright acidity that cut through the warmth of the tajine.
It was a trip without a fixed itinerary—just walking, riding, and observing. And by the time I flew out of Casablanca, it wasn’t the mileage or the train ticket I remembered most. It was the layers of language, the quiet architectural details, the flavor of slow-cooked meals, and the feeling of discovering a country one block, one bite, and one photo at a time.
