Day 8 - Travelling Solo in Tetouan

In the late afternoon of June 3rd, 2023, fewer than 24 hours after turning 40 years old, I stepped onto a plane bound for Tétouan, Morocco. I'd never been to the African continent, and I wanted to do something memorable for my birthday. Until two weeks before, I had never even heard of Tétouan. While getting my hair done, the stylist told me he'd been there and showed me photos. I was sold. Two days later, I was booked - a gift from one of my sisters. 

"You're going to Morocco alone? Aren't you afraid you'll be harassed, especially with blonde hair and blue eyes?" 

I knew it might be a possibility, but I wasn't going to let that stop me travelling. Plus, I was obviously going to look it up and find out the best way to dress and behave, so I'd be as safe as possible. I checked online and asked a few people what I should wear. Everyone said Morocco is more open nowadays and people wear shorts and have arms visible, but experience told me differently. It's still a Muslim country, and even though tourism might have increased, it's more respectful to keep yourself covered, at least partly. For accommodation, I'd booked the same hostel my hairdresser had stayed in, Darna Hostel, so I knew I could trust where I was going. 

I don't doubt the other hostels around are just as friendly and safe. Not for one moment in Tétouan did I feel unsafe, even when I got completely lost inside the Medina. I've been a solo female traveller for years. Even when I was in a relationship, I went places alone. If I hadn't, I'd never have gone anywhere. Yesterday, I posted about women feeling safe when walking at night and mentioned my trip to Morocco, so today, I thought I'd share my experience there, and demonstrate that women can travel and walk alone. Just like solo male travellers, we need to travel wisely. 

Day 1: Standard

Day one went as standard. I only had the afternoon, so as soon as I got settled in the hostel, I went out to find history, art and food. There's a lovely little archaeology museum to the east of the old medina, which houses the Roman mosaic from Lixus, which you see in the image above, and some of the pottery finds from an ancient site in a different part of Morocco. The museum is small, making it an easy visit if you're short on time.

Leaving the museum, as the evening began to creep in, I was hungry. I'm a foodie, so when I go to new countries, I try my best to find local food in small restaurants off the tourist tracks. Tétouan was no different. Inside the Medina, Google doesn't serve you well, but in the larger parts, outside the old walls, it works grand. Having searched for somewhere with lots of reviews and comments, I started wandering around to find it. 

A man approached me. Because of the Spanish influence in the northern parts of Morocco, Spanish is the next most widely spoken language in Tétouan, after Arabic and other local dialects. He asked me if I was looking for somewhere to eat then proceeded to direct me up the alley I'd been looking for, but we walked past the place on Google maps I'd saved. Stopping him, I pointed to a small restaurant, teeming with men, clacking plates and billowing steam. 

"Aquí? - here", he queried, puzzled.

"Sí. - yes." I showed him the map. 

He looked at me with a slightly sideways eye then went inside. When I realised there were only men inside, I asked for permission to be in there, and for permission to eat. I was welcomed with a smile and shown to a table. The room fell silent, every eye on me. I glanced lightly around, with a polite, deferent kind of smile, gave a tiny nod of my head, and waited to be served. He spared nothing, feeding me as well as every man in the room. It cost a little less than €3 - for everything, including my drinks. 

Day 2: Guided Tour

I was only staying for three days, so I wanted to make the most of it. My hostel had told me a local guide came around to take guests on walking tours, so I booked. Again, I was glad to have some Spanish. He guided me with a mix of Spanish and English. Someday, I'll go back and do it with him again when my Spanish is better. I'm sure I missed loads! He was so knowledgeable. 

The Old Town's colours were one of my highlights. Each colour represents where the residents are from, and indicates affluence. I don't know if I've spelled everything right, but this is what I've noted he told me: 

• Green - Wasan
• Yellow Desert - Ouarzazate City
• Grey - Sahara
• Red - Marrakesh
• Blue - Chefchaouen

When families would take over different blocks or even floors of the houses, they'd paint over the previous colours. It was incredible to see, and reminded me a bit of Northern Ireland. You can drive a few miles and go from houses donning tri-colours and the markers of the Republic of Ireland to Union Jacks flying high. 

We also walked through the original tannery, still in operation today in the middle of the old Medina. And I learned the secret to finding your way around the old, winding, walled towns. On the ground, as you can see in the image above beside my foot, there are markers. They indicate the direction of key landmarks inside the towns, places like the wells and sites of worship. I can't say I've learned to read them well enough not to get lost, but at least now I know they exist. 

Before dropping me off, having heard me say more than once how much I enjoy trying local food, he took me to two different street food vendors - steam billowing out of their pots, wafting the scent of freshly cooked meat and vegetables gently into my nostrils. 

Once the tour was over, he left me off at another local restaurant to get my dinner before heading back to the hostel...or trying to at least. Along the way, I took one or two detours after seeing things that made me say, "Ooo, I wonder what's down there." I got myself completely lost. But that is not a danger in Tétouan, I found. A lovely mother and her teenage son picked me up on their way down the street. She continued walking, instructing her son to take me safely back to my hostel. He did so, without argument. 

Safely back at "home," I took my dinner to the roof and looked out over the rooftops of Tétouan, to a moon rising over the mountains, feeling grateful and blessed to have experienced such freedom and kindness as I entered my 4th decade, roaming the new streets that my feet found themselves on, this time solo, though sometimes not. Always curious, generally hungry, and usually filled with bliss.