Morocco: Where Getting Lost Is the Journey
7/9/26 · Carolyn Regehr“Sometimes the most beautiful experiences are found in the moments when we stop searching for the way forward and simply allow ourselves to be there.”
We are lost. And this place is beautiful.
We are lost. My husband, Chris and I keep walking down different narrow alleyways thinking we will eventually remember the way to go. But so far it hasn’t worked. Didn’t we already pass the intricate blue door with shiny brass knobs? No, I remember the brass knobs being the shape of a lion not the Hand of Fatima. The high sun-dried brick walls in the medina feel like they are laughing at us. Silly tourists, lost again.
As we walk, beads of sweat roll down our foreheads. Was it from the hot blazing sun or nervous sweat from being lost? I stop and take a deep breath. “Slow down Carolyn, and try to remember”, I try to reassure myself. We are lost. And this place is beautiful. The moment I stop rushing, the medina comes alive. The sweet, comforting aroma of beef and prune tagine drifts through the air, a traditional Moroccan stew rich with fragrant spices and slow-cooked meat, scooped up with warm, freshly baked bread. My stomach lets out an unmistakable growl. I can almost taste the soft bread and fragrant sauce. We are lost and I am hungry. Not the greatest combination but here we are.
Before we travelled to Fes, I had done my research and read all the Moroccan guidebooks. One thing was the same, the authors all wrote that you will get lost in the medina. And one person even went as far as to say you haven’t truly experienced Fes unless you do get lost.
Well, I guess we are experiencing Fes, I think, as we turn another corner that doesn’t look familiar. My eyes are darting everywhere, trying to find something familiar. But my eyes are also distracted from the beauty of the medina. The twinkle of 50 glass lanterns strung from the ceiling, did we pass that shop before? The idyllic donkey braying under the terracotta coloured archway as he waits to be packed full of supplies, we haven’t seen that donkey before have we? The brightly displayed shop that sells red and orange spices piled up in pyramids, I know we have seen a lot of these but is this one it? We are lost. Nothing looks familiar. Yet every turn rewards us with another glimpse of the medina's beauty.
We make one more turn and then I see it. We are not lost. I squeal with joy. I point to the dusty ground and smile. Garbage! It was a blue cardboard box. Before we left our riad (a traditional Moroccan home built around a peaceful interior courtyard/garden) to explore the medina, I remembered noticing a bright blue cardboard box on the dusty ground. It looked as though it had been trampled by donkeys, carts, children chasing soccer balls, and thousands of footsteps. Somehow, that ordinary piece of garbage had become the landmark that led us home.
As we walk back toward our riad, we laugh. It really isn’t surprising that we got lost. The medina of Fes is a maze of thousands of narrow streets, hidden alleys, and centuries-old passageways where every turn reveals something new. Donkeys, artisans, and locals weave through the crowds as the ancient medina hums with a rhythm that has remained unchanged for centuries.
Getting lost allowed us to experience the medina with wonder. And then exploring it later with a local guide helped us understand the stories hidden behind the beautiful blue doors with lion brass knobs, the colourful Chouara Tannery, and intricate architecture of the oldest continually operating university in the world, founded by a woman.
As we traveled, we realized the best way to experience Morocco was to allow ourselves to get lost. And the next place to get lost was in the Sahara desert.
The Sahara desert is a world-renowned destination, and for good reason. The sand stretches further than you can see. The endless dunes are like waves in the vast ocean. The massive blue sky seems to stretch forever, meeting the horizon in every direction. And the Sahara sunrise is a landscape masterpiece, painting both the sky and the dunes in matching shades of pink, peach, and gold.
Once again we were lost. Only this time, there were no winding alleyways or crumpled blue boxes to find our way home. Instead, there was sand and lots of it. Lost in the vastness of the Sahara. Lost in the profound silence that stretches farther than the eye can see. Lost beneath a sky so full of stars that it felt as though the universe had wrapped itself around us.
Experiencing the Sahara and spending a night in a traditional Berber tent is unlike any other adventure. It's not just about seeing one of the world's greatest landscapes; it's about slowing down enough to feel it. Here, time is measured by the rising and setting of the sun, by the rhythm of camel footsteps, and by stories shared around a campfire beneath the stars.
I've been fortunate to visit several deserts throughout my life—the Sinai Desert in Egypt, Wadi Rum in Jordan, Rajasthan India, the Atacama Desert in Chile, and Huacachina in Peru. Yet nothing compares to the Sahara in Morocco. It isn't only the endless dunes that leave a lasting impression. It's the deep connection to the people who have called this place home for generations, the traditions passed down through Berber culture, and the timeless way of life that continues to thrive in one of the world's most unforgiving landscapes.
We mount the camels as they sit patiently with their long legs folded beneath them. As each camel lurches to its feet, we're thrown forward, then backward, gripping the saddle and laughing as we find our balance. Before long, we're gliding across the dunes.
The camels walk in a quiet procession, almost perfectly in step with one another. Perched high on the saddle, I find myself lost again. This time, mesmerized by the steady rhythm of the camel's hooves ahead of me. They move with an awkward grace, sinking gently into the warm sand before lifting effortlessly again.
We arrive at our camp and settle into our Berber tents, simple, beautiful, and welcoming against the backdrop of endless dunes. Before long, we're gathered for a traditional Moroccan feast with flavourful tagines, warm bread, and steaming glasses of sweet mint tea. As the sun begins its slow descent, we climb one last dune to watch the day come to a close. We wait for the first star to appear. Then another. And another. Soon, the sky is overflowing with more stars than we can count. The kind of night sky that's impossible to find beneath the glow of city lights. The kind that reminds you just how small you are and how wonderfully connected you are to something much bigger.
As the desert air begins to cool, we make our way back to camp, sliding down the soft dunes with every step. In the distance, we hear the steady rhythm of drums calling us home. Around a crackling fire, we're welcomed with traditional Berber music, more mint tea, and the warmth of shared laughter beneath the stars.
Our bodies are tired from the day's adventure from the camel trek, the heat of the desert, and the wonder of experiencing a place so unlike anywhere we've been before. We sink into the moment, letting the rhythmic drumbeats wash over us. These songs have gathered families, welcomed travellers, and carried stories long before we arrived. For one unforgettable evening, we are lost, not in confusion, but in the timeless rhythm of the Sahara.
As our time in Morocco came to an end, I found myself thinking about all the moments when we were lost. The blue cardboard box buried in the dust of the medina. The endless dunes where every direction looked the same. The quiet moments beneath a sky filled with more stars than we thought possible. At first, being lost felt uncomfortable. It made us question where we were, where we were going, and whether we would find our way back. But somewhere between the winding streets of Fes and the silence of the Sahara, we learned to embrace the unknown.
Because sometimes, the moments when we feel the least certain are the moments when we are the most present. Morocco reminded us to slow down, to look closer, to listen, and to let a place reveal itself in its own time. Not everything needs to be mapped out. Not every path needs to be familiar. Sometimes the most beautiful experiences are found in the moments when we stop searching for the way forward and simply allow ourselves to be there.
About Carolyn
Carolyn Regehr lived in Morocco for five years, a place she still considers her second home. In 2027, she will return as one of the Tour Experts leading Morocco A Journey of Contrasts, sharing the people, places, and experiences that first captured her heart.
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