The scent of mint and earth wafted through the wind as a pretty, wide-eyed Amazigh girl shyly shook my hand. Nearby, her father rushed to prepare tea for his unexpected guests beside their humble tent in the rugged Dades Gorge. 'What really is wellness?' I wondered, as the bleating of goats echoed against the pink cliffs. “Her family values their autonomy, and they are content,” I was told.
I was in Morocco on a masterfully curated tour around the country led by National Geographic Journeys in collaboration with G Adventures. A group of twelve of us from the United States, Canada, and Australia were being led from city to city by a friendly, nomad-born Amazigh guide, Youssef Dine, who offered authenticity, humor, and invaluable insight into the rich cultures and rituals of Al Maghreb - a.k.a. “The West.”
Contentment isn’t restricted by circumstance. This is already a concept I’d been ruminating on since initially spending time with all kinds of different people abroad over many years. But on this particular trip, it’s all I could think about - and accessibility. The foundation on which well-being lies is simplicity. Less is certainly more. And in Morocco, the power of certain mindsets, environments, customs, and values that aren’t as easily found or highly regarded in the U.S. - in my own experience, contribute to what I believe is a tighter grip Moroccans have on the seemingly ever-fleeting, illusory nature of wholeness and fulfillment. The never-ending, exquisite vistas throughout the trip only helped.
Our journey began in Casablanca, the country’s modern economic capital. The cosmopolitan hub is known for its artistic Art Deco buildings blending traditional Moroccan and French colonial flair, and buzzing Corniche bordering the Atlantic Ocean. I arrived early to explore the opulent Hassan II Mosque, one of the tallest religious structures in the world, and was glad I did.
The architectural marvel stunned me with its saffron-infused paint, electric doors, and anti-seismic design. Brass, titanium, marble, limestone and other elements dazzled the eye alongside plush carpeting and small pools that are filled with flowers whenever the king visits. There’s a retractable roof that allows sunlight to illuminate worshippers while simultaneously cooling the prayer hall. I felt spiritually grounded and took a moment to reflect on my life and all its recent challenges and lessons. I suddenly felt held, inspired, and optimistic. Little did I know I was about to continue to be spellbound for the next eight days - not only by Morocco’s historic, majestic edifices, but by its lush landscapes, rich traditions, warm people, and their ways of thinking.
We set out before five o'clock in the morning on our first full day and headed to the medieval city of Meknès. Moorish architecture meets cultural heritage in this storied city, complete with grand palaces - this place is literally known as the “Versailles of Morocco” - and intricate, giant gates, i.e, Bab Mansour. I felt a profound sense of authenticity here as I goggled at the interiors and artifacts at the Dar Jamai Museum and glided over cobblestone streets with a smile as big as the wooden doors all around me.
We then enjoyed a quick tour of the well-preserved Roman ruins of Volubilis - a UNESCO World Heritage Site complete with vibrant, mosaic floors and soaring marble pillars, before hitting the road again. We enjoyed a traditional lunch at AFER, a women’s cooperative providing vital services including literacy and vocational training, health services, disability assistance, and more. I’d continue to learn throughout the trip how important communal support is in Morocco. Emphasis is very much placed on empowerment of the collective, over individual success. Acquaintances quickly became family, and people took pride in helping others, whether in business or otherwise.
Fez - or “the Athens of Africa,” was next, and we’d officially stepped back in time. The city’s 9th century medina is a World Heritage site, and an experience out of a whimsical novel. Think: Over 9,000 twisting streets. Hasty donkey carts. Towers of bright spices. Camel heads. Scarves made of agave. Buckets of rose water. Absolute, wonderful chaos. A woman making bread smiled and threw kisses at me - a warm encounter that would actually repeat itself a few times. All my senses were stimulated in the best possible way; I felt raw but excited, overwhelmed yet intrigued, lost and captivated. We had to check out the pottery scene as Fez is known for its high-quality ceramics. I watched locals seemingly in a trance craft intricate designs and shape clay with calloused hands; they were calm amidst all the noise around and spoke of the therapeutic benefits of their art form.
The next day, we spent hours traversing through the Middle Atlas Mountains and past the palm groves of the Ziz Valley, to the Sahara Desert.
We were headed to a picturesque Kasbah style hotel in Merzouga, specifically. Kasbahs were mostly mud built, strategically positioned structures built for influential leaders, and ours was perched right at the edge of otherworldly, mountainous dunes. Dromedary camels chewed on dry grasses a few feet away from where we were served Ras El Hanout Shakshuka - a delectable egg dish featuring over 30 native spices, upon our arrival. We were weary but in awe of the endless tapestry of golden sands laid out before us.
My favorite moments were here. This ethereal place catapulted all prior perceptions of freedom, contentment and wellness to the front of my mind as I sat atop a giant dune waiting for sunset alongside my new friends later that evening - a desert-born, Amazigh nomad named Yusuf who led camel tours, and a young woman from my group who was also traveling alone and prioritizing self-discovery.
As we dismounted from our mighty, graceful dromedaries and prepared for the toughest walk of our lives, Yusuf asked us both if we knew what ‘Maktub’ meant. He proceeded to spell the word out in Arabic in the sand, nothing but beige powder and blue skies in sight. We were both familiar: “It is written.” We climbed dunes and spoke of our drastically different childhoods. We squinted to make out the Algerian border in the distance as we discussed purpose, freedom, and family values. “Alhamdulillah 'ala kulli haal,” our guide remarked. It means “All praises are for God in every condition.” It’s a grounding concept not only Moroccans - but Muslims in general - find peace and comfort in.
No matter the circumstance or hurdle, gratitude is essential. Yusuf described how the desert brought him a deep sense of liberation and contentment, despite having little. His people were proud and grateful to be nomads, establishing strong bonds with their animals and each other. “Humility,” I whispered to myself as I dug my bare toes in the soft sand. I’d always recognized humility as a noble quality, but I hadn’t exactly associated it with happiness until now. I realized that all the humble people I was meeting in Morocco actually seemed a lot happier than a lot of the folks I knew back home who ironically had a lot more privileges and access to resources. We leaned into the vast silence around us and I let the chilly, magical air fill my chest. I’d never felt more alive and blessed.
The next morning, we visited some of the nomads’ tents on our way out of the desert. Again, I was struck by everyone’s humility and sense of fulfillment. They were immensely connected to their environment, and content with using only what they required to survive and stay warm. Their simple tents were nearly empty, yet they wore the widest smiles and reiterated to our group how priceless freedom and family were to them. In their own way, they were rich. Their freedom was born not from abundance, but from embracing their reality with joy and humility - a lesson I’d carry with me long after leaving the sands.
I felt small and spoiled when we made our way out of the desert, back in our air-conditioned van. 24 hours later, I woke up in Tinghir, a land of lush palm groves, traditional indigenous culture, and more historic kasbahs. Another day, another lesson on humility. On our way to explore the dramatic rock formations of Dades Gorge, I was met with more air kisses from a group of local women and girls. I was about to meet the little Amazigh girl on the cliff that brought me to tears and defined my whole voyage.
The happy look on the girl’s father’s face as he served our group tea made my heart ache. This small, local family lived outdoors surrounded by rocks and had very limited access to food, clothes, etc. Our tour guide had met this family in the past, and went out of his way to offer us the opportunity to meet them. It wasn't part of our itinerary but we were all impacted by the unassuming encounter. As I climbed down and thought about the elaborate dinner I was about to enjoy, I felt ashamed. It’s always the people with less who want to give more. The principle of generosity would remain front and center for the rest of the trip.
We ate with Arab and Amazigh families in their homes. Their hospitality exceeded any I’ve ever received anywhere. We were dressed in sparkly local fabric, filled with sweets, and encouraged to make ourselves at home. At one of the houses, a little girl gave me a kiss on the cheek after asking me to dance. It was already clear to me how vital community is in a culture like this, but the neverending generosity I was witnessing was really making its mark.
We enjoyed ‘Berber pizza’, local music, and always more than enough mint tea as our new friends spoke in multiple tongues - Arabic, French, Spanish - and invited us to truly feel at home while we were so far away from our own. Though these families had little, they were strong and deeply united. Each cup, laugh, and offered hand felt even more valuable. I’d never felt so connected to strangers so quickly, especially as an introvert. And it wasn’t just me - all twelve of us felt content despite being exhausted and in a wildly unfamiliar environment. The sentiment prevailed with each new setting and host. The little girl I’d danced with ran out of her home to our van to knock on my window and wave. Once again, I felt whole, and energized.
Toward the end of the trip, I found myself in the village of Aït Benhaddou, an ancient fortified village in the foothills of the High Atlas Mountains. It was another UNESCO World Heritage site and as a history major, I was on cloud nine. Once a notable trading post on the route linking Sudan to Marrakech, the site has been used in many film and TV productions like Game of Thrones, and Gladiator. As I meandered my way between old, impressive clay walls and unique displays of symbolic paintings and figurines under the blazing sun, I felt a strong sense of inner peace. Shop owners listened to Qur’anic recitations, sipped tea, grinned, and quietly set up their spaces as we gawked at the views from on high.
As the region is known for its astonishing carpet weaving practices and handmade rugs, we had to make a quick stop at a cooperative. We were astounded by the attention to detail at Akhnif Glaoui, an initiative to empower local women by giving them control over the distribution and sales of their artisanry. It was yet another link we were experiencing between community empowerment, and revered Moroccan traditions. The carpets were gorgeous and the impact was greater.
Finally, we traveled along winding mountain roads through the Tizi n’Tichka pass with breathtaking views from the highest peaks of Morocco on our way to our final destination - Marrakech.
I’d never expected the kingdom to be so lush and diverse. I reflected on how the best parts of the trip had been the simplest, and I pondered on the deep cultural harmony present all over the country. I was glad we’d left the bustling, more modern city of Marrakech for last.
Influenced by all the serenity I found in the mountains, desert, and small villages, I made it my mission to top off my adventure with a quintessential Moroccan wellness tradition in the city - a visit to a local hammam, a.k.a. bath-house. At Le Bain de Kasbah, I was whisked into a steam room and scrubbed down from head to toe with black soap. After being rinsed off in front of other nearly naked women, a pleasant lady took me by the hand and led me to a massage room where I’d be rubbed with Argan oil for the next hour. At the end, I was served tea and given more luxurious oil to lather onto my body and hair. Hammams have been regarded as cultural institutions representing both physical and spiritual cleanliness, and fostering personal connections. I was reminded of the significance of slowing down and being present in my body as I embraced the centuries-old ritual of renewal.
Morocco’s abundant cultural treasures offer more than visual splendor - they are an invitation for us all to adopt a slower, more connected approach to life. The Amazigh philosophy of harmony, gratitude, and community serves as a priceless lesson for travelers to carry home. This trip taught me what it means to feel ‘well,’ and it’s a lot less complicated than the trillion dollar industry might have us believe in the United States and beyond.
Gratitude is fundamental to fulfillment, and connection - to others and our environment - may very well be the missing, often overlooked piece. Contentment is within reach every day, regardless of who we are, what we have, or whether we choose to see it. Begin with small habits inspired by Morocco's timeless wisdom: savor tea with a loved one, find joy in simple routines, or pause to reflect on what you have. Wellness isn’t in the chase; it’s in the choice to find beauty and meaning in every step of your journey. I, too, will pause for tea.
*accommodations and tours provided by G-Adventures
*All images by Kalene Santana
