Ryan went to Morocco for an adventure. Well, he found one. It wasn't too far into his trip when he ran into a spot of bother. How about we let Ryan, one of our employee's and one of our most popular travel bloggers, tell the story.

 

I was desperate to use the bathroom. The dry heat of a 45 degree day meant I’d already gone through 3 bottles of water. This place was an oven. The CTM bus I was on wasn’t yet equipped with air-conditioning. In fact I doubt anyone had come up with the idea when this bus was made. The rattle of its ancient engine was a welcome distraction to the inevitable. I HAD to get off this bus.

I politely approached the driver. We'd not stopped once since leaving, so I thought it was a fair request. 'Suuuure, I can stop for you'. There was something in his voice that bothered me, but I was desperate. I literally took 2 steps off the bus when its rickety automatic door screeched to close, followed by the groan of a laboured engine... Followed by a cloud of dust and me peering through the back window of the bus, where I was seated just a minute ago. The dust cleared enough for me to have one last glance at my backpack, still tied to the roof of the bus, as it disappeared into the horizon.

The feeling of shock gave way to anger once I realised the bus wasn’t coming back for me. It wasn’t a joke. Anger then gave way to panic as my mind cleared for a minute to take stock of my personal inventory. NO wallet, NO money belt, NO passport, NO friends, and stuck literally in the middle of a Moroccan nowhere. In fact, all I had were the clothes on my back, half a bottle of water, about 30 Dirhams change in my back pocket, some sunburn and a full bladder. As I relieved myself of one of my problems, I cursed myself for putting everything important in my back pack - a rookie error when travelling. Feeling sorry for myself, I kicked at a loose stone on the side of the road and threw out a thumb as I walked in the stifling heat. My destination was Chefchaouen. At a guess, I was about an hour’s drive away - mostly up steep hills. Dusk was approaching, so walking wasn’t an option. I didn’t feel safe at all. It felt like the badlands of a Mad Max movie.

About an hour’s walk with no takers on my now weary thumb and right arm, I stumbled into a lonely looking truck stop which appeared like a welcoming desert mirage.

I should have ignored it and kept walking...

TO BE CONTINUED

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