Southern Girl Gone Global

Pepe Nero Marrakech is a unique, luxury experience. Photo by Emily Salgado

Pepe Nero Marrakech is The Place to Celebrate

December 17, 2015April 25, 2023Cindy McCain

Updated on April 25, 2023

Pepe Nero Pool Marrakesh Morocco — Brimming Beauty at Pepe Nero Marrakesh, Morocco

When my niece, Emily, and nephew, Andres, said they’d be visiting me in Morocco for 48 hours, I wanted a perfect place to take them for dinner. I sought somewhere signature Moroccan — mysterious, exotic, and beautiful. A place that practices hospitality and serves a mix of traditional local and European delicious dishes. Pepe Nero Marrakech granted every desire and more.

Mysterious…The night began with the thrill of intrigue. Afraid I could never lead us through the medina, a medieval labyrinth of darkness, deserted streets, and closed shops at night, I was relieved that Chahid Essafa, truly a Customer Service Extraordinaire, said he’d send a guide to escort us. Excited, we waited in front of Café de France, mesmerized by the lanterns glowing across Jemaa el Fna square. Behind us, a man in a black suit appeared.

Pepe Nero escorts guests to the restaurant by request.

He serenely introduced himself, turned, and led the way, shielding us from errant motorcyclists as we wound around corners and down solemn streets. Only our shadows and those of a few feral cats stretched up the red clay walls as we silently walked under lamplights. Though our destination was less than ten minutes away, adrenaline flowed from the surreal setting and suspense of wondering behind which wall our journey would end.

And then Emily and Andres experienced what I love about this city. A desolate alleyway. A door swings open. Inside…paradise.

Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Pepe Nero is the former palace of Moroccan royalty.

Pepe Nero Marrakesh Morocco — Guests enjoy poolside dinner at Pepe Nero Marrakech.

U.S. guests visit expat aunt at Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Cindy McCain with Marrakesh guests Emily and Andres Salgado.

Pepe Nero Marrakesh offers Italian and Moroccan cuisine in a former Pasha's palace. — Pepe Nero Marrakesh offers Italian and Moroccan cuisine in a former Pasha’s palace.

Beautiful…Carrara marble, cedar ceilings, and Moorish fountains transport guests to another time. We ate by the Andalusian pool flanked by flaming torches from a James Bond dream set. Trees reached for the moon—gorgeous that night—as we sat under the stars. Bougainvillea draped from the second-story balcony.

Exotic… Pepe Nero Marrakech is the restaurant within Riyad Al Moussika, the former palace of “Lord of the Atlas,” Pasha of Marrakech from 1912-1956. According to BBC, Thami El Giaoui at the time of his death “was the most powerful man in Morocco and one of the wealthiest men in the world.” Guests can rent one of six luxury suites overlooking the two lavish courtyards. Breakfast is served on the terrace rooftop overlooking the Atlas mountains.

Haute cuisine...Guests can choose from two menus—one Moroccan, one Italian–prepared by Mr. Khalid Essafa Robazza, Cordon Bleu Chef and owner. We three went with Moroccan because When in Rome… (and Emily and Andres had just come from there). We feasted on salads and Harira Soup (a tradition), then roasted leg of lamb, lamb tagine, and Pastilla di Piccione (pigeon pie–a local delicacy). The waiters were attentive, kind, and patient as we toured the riad, Emily and I tag-teaming behind the camera.

Fresh orange juice welcome drinks at Pepe Nero — Welcomed with fresh orange drinks

Emily and Andres Salgado at Pepe Nero Marrakesh

Cindy McCain and Nephew Andres Salgado at Pepe Nero. Photo by Emily Salgado.

Cindy McCain Southern Girl Gone Global at Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Thrilled to be celebrating life with family at Pepe Nero

Meal at Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Our starters at Pepe Nero Marrakesh

Lamb Tagine at Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Lamb Tagine

Roasted Shoulder of Lamb at Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Roasted Shoulder of Lamb

Cinnamon-glazed Pastilla at Pepe Nero — Cinnamon-glazed Pastilla

Server pouring mint tea Moroccan style at Pepe Nero — Our excellent server pouring mint tea Moroccan style at Pepe Nero

The food was so delicious, the dining experience so exceptional and the wine list so tempting, I returned the following week with my friend, Jasna, to try one dish off the Italian menu–lasagna that was the best I’ve had anywhere– so I could save room for dessert. As a Kentucky girl, I chose the Bourbon Vanilla Crème Brûlée with the crunch-cream topping–my new favorite dessert in all of Morocco. Pepe Nero provides complimentary cake for birthday parties. It’s a five-star dining experience at affordable prices, and I’m already looking forward to the next celebration.

Best crème brulée of my life at Pepe Nero Marrakesh

Cordon Bleu Chef/Owner Khalid Essafa Robazza and Southern Girl Gone Global Cindy McCain at Pepe Nero — Pepe Nero Marrakesh Cordon Bleu Chef/Owner Khalid Essafa Robazza

Southern Girl Gone Global Cindy McCain with Pepe Nero Manager Manager Chahid Essafa — Gracious Manager Chahid Essafa

Southern Girl Gone Global Cindy McCain with Khalid, Member of Wonderful Waitstaff at Pepe Nero Marrakesh — Khalid, Member of Wonderful Waitstaff

Crib of Hope

December 13, 2015October 25, 2016Cindy McCain

Lining the wall of the Moroccan nursery, infants slept.

Twisting my hair in her tiny hands, her brown eyes,–no–her entire body laughed. Even before I picked her up, she shook with glee, stiffened her legs, and tried to jump from the straps of her baby seat into my arms. I thought of my own little girl at six months so precious and full of life. One by one we unbuckled them from seats lined in front of cartoons and held them. The sunny room was abuzz with babies four months to a year old smiling, blowing bubbles, crawling, playing.

Except one. His eyes followed the jingly toy but without expression.He seemed to be observing quietly but didn’t reach, didn’t move, didn’t respond to us. I raised him above my head and flew him like an airplane. He smiled, then chuckled. I laughed and cried.

Jodie, one of my coworkers, went to an older boy who lay staring at the lights on a toy truck. She asked one of caretakers the Arabic word for truck and began talking to the boy. Though he couldn’t walk, he came alive—delighting in playing with Jodie, then creating a game of crawling away at lightening speed and being carried back giggling upside down on Sylvie’s shoulder. In another room Bev and Jason played with other disabled children confined to beds by disabilities.

In the midst of an orphanage in a troubled world, beautiful bright-eyed babies look into eyes of older souls in a two-way exchange of wonder, poignancy, and peace. The Association Enfance Espoir Maroc or “Crib of Hope” cares for healthy and handicapped children, most aged 0-3 who were abandoned and found on the streets. Moroccans may adopt them, and volunteers may donate time or resources. Sponsoring a child for one year costs 1000 dirhams ($100 USD). For more information on how to help go here. We were asked not to photograph the children’s sweet faces, but you can see their home (for now) below.

In Marrakech Locals and Expats Gather at Kosybar

December 6, 2015February 15, 2021Cindy McCain

I spent a perfect Marrakesh afternoon recently with Brigitte, owner of Kosybar and Dar Beija, with Andrena, her longtime friend. Andrena and I were off from work for Moroccan Independence Day so we were thrilled to enjoy lunch in the sunshine. Later we walked it off through the newly refurbished Jewish Quarter to Brigitte’s beautiful boutique hotel.

Day or night the three-story restaurant is a gathering place. I’d been to Kosybar before, a favorite Happy Hour hangout of coworkers and other locals and expats. In a city where riad and restaurant rooftops are so close you can hopscotch your way across the skyline, Kosybar’s sunset view is one of the most unique places in town to sip and see the sky change colors. Perched in their gigantic nests just above patrons, the famous storks of El Badi Palace, began in 1578 by Arab Saadian Sultan Ahmad al-Mansur, keep watch over dusk. The tourist attraction is home now of the Marrakech Folklore Festival.

First trip to Kosybar in Spring 2015 with Annie and Lexi — First trip to Kosybar last spring with Annie and Lexi

Through the gate below Kosybar is the El Badi Palace (below)

As we spoke over lunch, Spike, a talented and gregarious Canadian singer who fills the dance floor downstairs Thursday-Sunday nights, stopped by the table to say hi. Three other expat guests—one who had returned home but like so many others had been drawn back by the “Marrakesh spell”–did the same, giving Brigitte–a Moroccan kisses on both cheeks. She has a sensitive, sweet spirit that friends and regular customers find soothing.

Our lunch prepared by Japanese Chef Nao Tamaki was delicious–a fusion of Asian, French, and Moroccan fare. Though not usually a dessert person, I LOVED the apple turnovers. In addition to lunch, the restaurant serves a tapas menu afternoons and a dinner menu evenings. They have a full range of cocktails including a good selection of wines. The mojitos are the best I’ve tasted in town.

It was a poignant day. Sad and shocked by the Paris bombing, Brigitte talked of the tragedy and her daughter’s decision that they keep their plans for an upcoming trip to the City of Lights. Brigitte said though it is safe in Morocco it had been quiet the last few days as it is every time such a tragedy happens. She agreed with her daughter that we can’t be ruled by fear and they should go to Paris as planned rather than cancel.

Despite disturbing world events, we so enjoyed the day we’d been given. As moms born on three continents (Andrena is Scottish), we spoke of our children. Brigitte shared some of her family history. She and her husband, Nabil, started their journey as high school sweethearts 25 years ago in Meknes. Together they attended University of South Florida in Clearwater, Schiller University, and University of Nevada in Las Vegas where they received degrees in Hotel Administration, Hospitality, and International Business. Their oldest child was born in Clearwater, the other three in Las Vegas.

They returned to Morocco and in 2005 opened Kosybar. Of her staff, she said, “We’re family.”

On the square beneath, workmen continuing renovation.

She also shared local history. The previous owner of the riad which is now Kosybar was a Jewish clockmaker. Moroccan kings have always protected Jewish residents and many pilgrimages are made here to burial sites of their saints. Many of the Jewish houses had tunnels under the city to the palace in case of attack. One of the many things I appreciate about Morocco is its historic and present tolerance of the religions of foreigners. In the Marrakesh Mellah, one of several Jewish communities in Morocco, Jewish and Muslim merchants work alongside one another. Brigitte said of her childhood: “My dad was French, and my mom was Moroccan. Her best friend was Jewish. We all grew up together.”

I remembered on the first tour I took of Marrakesh our guide began at the spice shop just across the street (below). I couldn’t believe how bright and shiny the neighborhood was compared to when I first visited—dust, exhaust fumes, and years of use washed and refinished.

Dar Beija, a boutique bed and breakfast riad

Riad rooftop with a panoramic view of the Marrakesh Medina–palaces, sanctuaries, and the Atlas Mountains

Thank you, lovely ladies, for the pleasure of good company and conversation. Truly it was an afternoon of pure peace.

Morocco’s Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort Is the Perfect Coastal Luxury Stay

November 30, 2015March 15, 2025Cindy McCain

The third stop on my November beach hop along the Moroccan Atlantic Coast was Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort. Owners take pride in being the first hotel in Morocco to combine yoga and surfing—a dynamic duo since yoga prepares and repairs the body after surfing. The property invites guests to ride waves, climb camels, or salute the sun as it rises and sets. Here couples, families, friends, and solo travelers enjoy over 100 suites with terraces or balconies opening to pool or sea. Recreation varies from four area golf courses and an outdoor cinema. Located 30 minutes from Agadir and 50 minutes from an international airport connecting to European capitals via 3-hour flights, the resort is where westerners love to play.

Started by Kabbage Abbes, one of the first investors in Agadir hotels, who teamed with Francois Payot, head of Rip Curl Europe, the resort is a work of art run by Abbes’ daughter, Naima, and her husband, Vincent. Furnishings were created by locals and the gorgeous green spaces and gardens are by Spanish landscaper, Sergio Castaneda Beltran.

4U2A8008photo internet — Photo by Paradis Plage

Excited to learn more about surfing and to practice yoga, I was shown to a gorgeous oceanfront suite. At the Surf House beach bar while sipping my Flag (local beer) and waiting for a Mexican burger (rare in this region), I saw horses and camels waiting patiently on the sand while cats lounged in the sun. Later, everyone returned for the golden orange sunset.

IMG_9614 - Version 2 — Simo, instructor here and in video above, is from Rabat. He has taught in Hawaii and on the US East Coast. He guarantees by the end of the first lesson every student will be up on their boards.

In partnership with Rip Curl, legendary Australian brand, Tarik Wahbi, surf pro from Tétouan, is ranked one of Morocco’s Top Ten surfers. Manager of the surf program, he leads a team of gregarious guys who hook up guests with equipment, instruction, and guides to the best waves.

Photo Paradis Plage 2014-5 — Photo by Pardis Plage

Photo Paradis Plage 2014-2 — Photo by Paradis Plage

Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort nurtures total wellness that fits the unique needs of each guest. Surf and Yoga packages are available for two or five days. Surf School Packages are available for 5 days—2 sessions per day.

Yoga and Spa packages range from two days (daily yoga course, a sensory hammam, and a massage) to five days (yoga course, two hammams, one body scrub, and two massages).

The resort shares with clients the secrets of Moroccan women’s beauty. All cosmetics are 100% natural Taroudant Argan oil, essential oils from Marrakech gardens, pebbles from Imi Ouaddar’s beach, facial treatments using Sous Massa prickly pip, Taliouine saffron or roses of Dades Valley.

Traditional Hammams consist of a black soap scrub, Atlas ghassoul wrap, Atlantic Coast seaweed wrap, Imouzzer honey, and spice scrub. Sensory Hammams fuse fragrances of in orange blossom and eucalyptus to relax and rejuvenate. Managing massages and other spa services is Marie France Riera.

Important Tip: Schedule spa services, especially massages, and yoga classes before you arrive or at check-in because appointments and classes fill fast.

Photo Paradis Plage 2014-12 — Photo by Paradis Plage

Yoga group classes, the highlight of my getaway, are offered three times daily:

8-9:15 Sunrise Yoga (for all levels)—breathing, flexibility, strength, muscle toning, body opening

11-12:15 Easy Yoga (all levels but especially great for beginners) Asanas postures and poses; precision of body alignment, rhythm, balance

5:30-7 Sunset Yoga (all levels)– detoxification, relaxing based on Vinyasa flow systems

Also available are classes in Yin Yoga Therapy (gentle practice using blocks, pillows, restorative and relaxing to relieve tension in muscles and joints, relax spine and pelvis), Aerial Yoga (hammock used for suspension), Prenatal, Power Flow (ultimate workout for athletes), and 108 Greetings. Custom sessions can be arranged by Karim Fadali.

Photo Paradis Plage 2014-3 — Photo by Paradis Plage

Classes are typically held in the Yoga Shala which consists of two beach studios connected by a lotus pond and facing the sea. Groups may rent the space for private retreats as they did during my stay so guests met in an open air space (see below). Sara, our excellent German instructor, lives in Cairo. Like the best teachers, she is creative, kind, soulful, and a learner herself. She was excited about taking her first surf lesson after our yoga class. My classmates were European as well– some there with partners and others solo. We “sent love to the flies”–pests in the Taghazout region at times– but packing insect repellent might also be a good idea. The small community made it possible to meet other guests in classes and connect with them at the poolside buffets or bars later.

I left feeling refreshed and restored by the beauty of nature and yoga. I loved seeing smiles on surfers’ faces when they did what we all must do to navigate and enjoy life– conquer fear, be flexible and strong, and stand tall as we ride the waves.

Thanks to Paradis Plage for a restful retreat. As always, the opinions are my own.

Sofitel Agadir Offers Solo Travelers Beauty and Bliss

November 27, 2015November 27, 2015Cindy McCain

Recently I stayed at 5-star Sofitel Agadir Thalassa Sea & Spa, just named continental winner of “Luxury Wedding Destination in Africa” by the 2015 Luxury Hotel Awards. My time there was perfection. Though I endorse travel for all, I especially encourage single women waiting for a prince to live happily-after-after to find your bliss now at places that will make your dreams come true. At the premier hotel on beautiful Agadir Bay you don’t have to be on a honeymoon to be pampered like a new bride. In fact, any lady here will be given princess treatment.

When I moved to Marrakech to write, teach English, and travel, I began asking students where their families stay when vacationing. The answer was always the same.

In Paris? Sofitel. London? Sofitel. Rome? Sofitel. Morocco? Sofitel.

Such big brand loyalty (120 hotels on five continents in 40 countries) in the age of hip default to indie companies got my attention. But then again, I’ve always appreciated timeless, classic quality.

The French company committed to total well-being first opened its doors in Strasbourg in 1964. Dedicated to superior service infused with the celebration of art de vivre, each hotel provides cultural experiences from not only France but also each host country in which it is located. Showcasing the best artwork, literature, music, fashion, architecture, gardens, fitness, wines and foods, the hotel beckons guests to experience the sweet life layer by delicious layer. Like bees burrowing gently into the rose— velvet petal by velvet petal—drinking nectar that will become honey in the hive, guests enter space after space of palpable beauty in interactions that feed the soul. Sofitel Agadir Thalassa Sea & Spa stimulates every sense—from plush decor to soothing sounds of fountains and sea to a signature scent, Jatamansi, found only in the Himalayas. Jatamansi, also known as “nard” smells of citrus, ylang ylang and mountains and has so many medicinal powers it is considered sacred in some countries. I left filled, relaxed, energized, healed.

But beyond all these offerings, what makes the Sofitel the Sofitel is the people who work here. From the moment I walked through the doors everyone–from doorman to gardener to manager — greeted me by name. I arrived feeling ill–a situation that could have been a nightmare when traveling alone–but I quickly learned I couldn’t have been in better hands. The staff offered to get me medicine and kindly brought me treats to feel better–Chamomile tea, sweets and fruit, two dozen roses. I am forever grateful for their professional, superior service. Rightfully called, the So Staff is the best in the business.

The new Sofitel Agadir Thalassa Sea & Spa greets guests with a 100 meter long Andalusian pond and 2,000 rose bushes.

Photo by Sofitel

I was welcomed at the door of La Maison Arabe, the reception area in a traditional riad with contemporary black and white design, and served mint tea and Moroccan cookies while the staff checked me in.

Maison Arabe - SOFITEL AGADIR THALASSA SEA&SPA (18) copy — Photo by Sofitel

Designer Didier Rey said of the collaboration of building this modern classic, “We had some great interaction with Moroccan artisans. Here I find the pleasure of working in simplicity as it was 20 years ago in France.”

In the gallery on display were thirty works by Younes Fizazi in a collection called “Moroccans Landscapes, Richness and Diversity.” Shots of the Atlas Mountains and Merzouga desert allowed me to relive great trips taken last fall and spring, but having just arrived from the surf town of Taghazout , I especially loved this photograph.

I was excited to see the pool and beach areas next. So Gorgeous.

The spacious suite was sumptuous, and I was especially thrilled with my three favorite elements — the terrace, bed, and bathtub (something I miss most in my Marrakech apartment). This one offered the best of both worlds–a soak with a view–so first on my agenda was a bubble bath followed by a massage.

Prestige Suite - Sofitel Agadir Thalassa sea & spa (2) — Prestige Suite Photo by Sofitel

View of pool and ocean from outdoor lounge

Prestige Suite - Sofitel Agadir Thalassa sea & spa (11) — Photo by Sofitel

My only complaint was the Sofitel MyBed which abducted me –a custom made mattress, featherbed, down duvet, and sleek, soft sheets. After my massage, I took a nap and slept for hours. 🙂

Sofitel Agadir Thalassa sea & spa (Institute) (1) — “Evasion et beaute Berbere” (Berber Escape and Beauty) treats the skin to Argan, prickly pear cactus, orange blossom water, rose water and honey. After treatments one can lounge overlooking Agadir Bay and sip herb or fruit drinks. Photo by Sofitel

Palais du Jardin (Moroccan Restaurant) SOFITEL AGADIR THALASSA SEA&SPA (5) — Les Palais du Jardin, the gourmet restaurant where Chef Fatima cooks Moroccan cuisine fusing traditional and modern flavors. Photo by Sofitel

At L’Amane Bar fresh fruit smoothies, classic cocktails, and a jazz duo can be enjoyed every night from 7:30 PM.

Day 2 I rose early feeling great and ready for breakfast on the terrace of L’Atlantique.

After breakfast I went to play in the next door neighbor’s backyard–Sofitel Agadir Royal Bay, recipient of “Luxury Beach Resort in Morocco” by the 2015 Luxury Hotel Awards. Of its many distinctions, Sofitel Morocco was selected to host the first Kids’ Villa offering educational programs, pastry classes, belly dance, gardening workshops, swimming, aerobics, and a library for children. The honor was bestowed because The Little Prince was born in the imagination of Antoine de Saint Exupery in Morocco.

Opened in 2004, the Sofitel Agadir Royal Bay Resort was the first hotel brand in Agadir. A contemporary Kasbah, its colors are warm copper, wood, and orange, the emblem of the Souss Valley symbolic of fire representing Berber hospitality.

Six duplex villas with infinity pools overlook the ocean.

SO LOUNGE AGADIR (20) — The So Lounge is the center of nightlife in Agadir and a great place for the Birthday Girl.

A winter holiday destination that offers sun- by- day and fire- by- night, Sofitel invites reflecting on the past year and dreaming of the one to come. Photo by Sofitel

Agadir, “Pearl of the South,” is a three-hour flight from major European cities. It’s where Europe migrates in winter to enjoy 300 days of sunshine each year and the Sofitel experience– timeless as Coco Chanel, delicious as Crème brûlée, and exotic as only Morocco.

Special thanks to Sofitel and Soukaina Ghallab for an unforgettable experience. As always, the opinions are my own.

Surf Berbere an Endless Summer Camp for Adults

November 17, 2015August 7, 2020Cindy McCain

A brilliant beam lasers through the blue wooden shutter. Now awake, I push open the window to catch the sun rising slowly, then bursting boldly from behind buildings on the beach. I’m singing Cat Stevens. He loved the Moroccan coast as I do.

Morning has broken like the first morning…

Mine is the sunlight,
Mine is the morning,
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise ev’ry morning,
God’s recreation of the new day.

The afternoon before, I’d been picked up at the bus station in Agadir and driven along the coast to Taghazout. The stretch reminded me of the route my kids and I took one summer in a convertible from Santa Monica to Malibu. We’d stopped to watch surfers at Zuma Beach. This time my destination was Surf Berbere to practice yoga, learn about surfing, and live in community with the people who do it.

As we rolled into town I smelled fish sizzling. Minutes later at reception I met a friendly blond girl the age of my daughter. She, like everyone, was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and radiated sunshine. In Marrakech it was sweater and boots weather, but here, just three hours south, it was summer (my favorite season) again. Since moving to Morocco I’d gotten serious about yoga, and when my instructor spoke of retreats on the coast, I added another destination to my Bucket List. I’d wanted a fertile climate where my inner flower child could bloom. Here banana trees abound, the sun shines 300 days a year, and people relax. Seemed I’d found the place.

She led me to the Vista Apartment all shiny clean and spacious. Flinging my suitcase on the bed, I turned and was stunned by the sight of nothing-but-sea out my window.

As on my first beach solo trip to Costa Rica, I felt broken by beauty. I’d planned to rest or write before yoga class and dinner, but thoughts began churning within like the waves without.

Reliving our California trip had made me again miss my children in Nashville. Simultaneously experiencing this amazing Moroccan place made me again realize how much I’ll miss this country one day. My thoughts were like the tide mightily pushing and pulling me in two directions. How can I live abroad much longer so far from people I love across this ocean? How will I go back after all I’ve seen and felt here? How will I give up the beauty and adventure of this place?

Thankfully, by morning future fears robbing me of the present had washed out to sea, leaving diamonds—not smoke– sparkling on the water. The night waves pounding the shore below my balcony had somehow soothed my soul as nature and its creator always does. I woke rested and ready.

As the campers of Surf Berbere had gathered around burgers on the rooftop grill the night before, we shuffled toward breakfast from our apartments to the café terraces that morning. Under clear, blue skies, fat cats chilled and a cute puppy begged as beginners and intermediates wondered which beach our instructors would choose for the day. The pros—many who had lived there for months—mapped their route for chasing waves as well. Van Morrison sang “Into the Mystic” as I finished my coffee.

I’d loved summer camp when I was a teen, so much so I became a counselor. I’d learned to ski on Kentucky Lake as many learn to surf on Hash Point. Nights at both places we circled up to tell tales of days on the water. Here some seemed to be old friends, but most campers were traveling solo and had only recently met. It seemed they, too, had decided to stop waiting for someone else to rock their gypsy souls and had shown up confident they’d find what they were seeking with strangers who’d bond over shared passions for sea, surf, and yoga.

By nine we were grabbing boards and suits at the surf shop, then bouncing on Taghazout’s main street (really only street) toward Anza Bay. In our van the campers were as eclectic as the playlist. Two girls from Cologne, Germany and another from London—aged 27-31—were excited for their first lesson. A guy from Ghent, Belgium had surfed the Great Barrier Reef. New friends from Sweden, Norway, and Switzerland were in the other van. All were on holiday from careers or retired from public service, as was the man I met from the same area of Wales as my grandmother’s family. All identified me as the only American but were surprised I now live in Marrakech—a city all travelers described as too intense and frenetic.

Later that afternoon two experienced surfers traded stories of battle scars–one a West Australian travel blogger whose fin sliced open his butt. Though it still hadn’t healed completely, he had recently gone swimming in the Nile.

“So you have a gnarly scar!” laughed the UK girl who’d been in wine sales, moved to Surf Berbere, then Sri Lanka, now Surf Berbere where she is taking the surf instructor’s course. She’d had a friend whose board rope wound so tightly around the tip of his finger, it popped the joint off. Both were energized rather than afraid of injuries, but when he said he was traveling a year, she sighed and said the same words another woman spoke at lunch the day before: “I don’t know if I can ever go back again to the western world.”

The Moroccan surf instructors, Imad and Rashid were patient, skilled, and fun. After warm ups and the lesson, they stayed in the water for one-on-one coaching throughout the day. I quickly understood the close relationship between surfing and yoga. Upper body strength, flexibility, and balance are key. Like dancing, surfing can be graceful and beautiful once techniques are learned and practiced. Like life, it’s about being in the moment rather than over thinking. It’s about catching the wave when it comes and riding it out.

Fueling us was Chef Mohamed who served huge portions of home cooking including the best burgers and spaghetti (packed for lunch) I’ve had in Morocco. Friday I enjoyed the international fusion of favorites– traditional cous cous with apple crumble for dessert. Managing with Hamza and Beth for James, the warm and welcoming London owner, is Marie. Like many creative campers I met, she is a travel blogger from Frankfurt (where I’ll go next month as well as to Cologne thanks to the girls who said the Christmas markets in their hometown are must -sees). When Marie isn’t custom planning each guest’s daily schedule, she’s writing her Masters thesis in Brand Management. She gave me a sneak peak of her uber-cool line of surfing tights. You won’t see her without a smile.

As for all the campers, they were tenaciously teachable, grateful, and kind. Truly some of the nicest people I’ve met in one place. Wherever I am living a year from now, I’ll remember beginning yoga with sun salutations that were literal goodnights to the golden orb as it turned orange and melted into the sea. I’ll remember ending class with Savasana under a navy-black sky of stars above. And I hope I (and single empty nesters like me) remember the words of the instructor: “It’s not selfish to take care of yourself. It’s not selfish to love yourself. It’s necessary.”

Check out pricing and book here. Apartment rentals are here.

Thank you to Surf Berbere for an amazing retreat. As always, the opinions are my own.

And thank you, Marie, for my first Christmas card of the season. Peace to all from another traveler, Odysseus:

“Come, my friends, It is not too late to seek a better world.”–Tennyson

Happy Halloween From Morocco

October 31, 2015October 25, 2016Cindy McCain

Yesterday was fun–a day where many things came full circle. At the American school where I teach, I’ve been helping seniors seeking admittance into US and UK universities write and edit their personal statement essays. They are relieved to have that step behind them. My juniors have been writing persuasive speeches which they delivered… beautifully. I am excited about my students’ progress in writing and literary analysis (my AP seniors are reading Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbevilles–a feat for native English speakers). How far they have come since kindergarten was magnified when some tiny trick-or-treaters stopped by from the lower school. Some of the four- year- olds don’t speak English, but, like my students, they will graduate fluent in English, Arabic, and French.

Teaching in a K-12 school has more advantages than academic growth. It creates a community– of students and teachers–of all ages. Those little ones made us smile. Those juniors–sometimes characters when it’s not Halloween–make me smile, too. Seeing how gently and kindly they treated the younger children made me happy. Likewise, in the US school where I taught and my children attended K-12, I saw my son who was full of energy act as a “big brother” to four-year-olds as his senior service project (just as a high school student was to him at that age).

Trick-or-Treak American-style in Morocco — Trick-or-Treat in Morocco

I wouldn’t take anything for having my kids under my roof not only at home but also at work. It meant never missing a holiday party. Now most of my coworkers live in the same apartment complex–many in my building under my same roof. The lower school teachers have been planning costumes and parties for weeks. Thursday on our ride home on the bus, Pocahontas (Emily) sang “Five Little Pumpkins” with one of her students–the daughter of our coworker–and I mentally joined in. The words flooded back as if I were singing with Jasmine (Taylor) and Hercules (Cole) in our old Volvo station wagon. Yesterday I rode to school beside Cleopatra (Julie). I marvel at the stamina, creativity, and patience it takes to parent and teach little ones, and though the Energizer Bunnies/ lower school teachers were exhausted on the ride home yesterday, their planning and work sent a lot of kids home soaring.

IMG_9125 - Version 2 — Mike, Emily, Rachel, Jenn, Julie, Laurance, Thelma, Chloe

Yesterday as I unlocked my classroom before the Halloween games began, I thought of my grandmother. My room is an annex to the main building where my students and I have our own rose garden and birds that sing in the trees outside my open windows. My grandmother taught in a one-room, rural school house, and when I hear the roosters crow as I turn the key, I think she must have heard the same as she prepared to start each day. She taught children of all ages and said she loved it because the older ones looked after the younger students.

I’m so glad my friends, Jodie and Rachel, brought their classes by. Jodie, like me, has grown children in the US. This is her first year abroad. While at church with Rachel last year, someone mistook her baby for my granddaughter. I love that I work with people of all ages from many countries. I like that yesterday my classroom had a span of ages as did my grandmother’s. And I love that we had fun with an American holiday my grandmother celebrated with my sister and me each year.

My Dad’s first cousin, Ellen, recently sent this picture.

It was taken in Gracey, Kentucky where my grandmother had a Halloween party, wrote this warning on the wall, and stood at the top of the stairs dressed as a witch. It remains there today in what’s called The Red House. My sister and I would decorate her living room with the same black cats, skeletons, and pumpkins she had used for that party in the basement before we were born. Her words still remain in that building. She had a lot of fun. She was a lot of fun. I hope she knows that yesterday on another continent Moroccan students celebrated an American tradition and found it fun, too.

Living Large (and Small) at Ouzoud Falls

October 18, 2015February 7, 2022Cindy McCain

Ouzoud Falls Quench Thirst for Adventure, Beauty, and Relationship

Yesterday I was ambushed by monkeys, then drenched by a waterfall.

The first incident felt like being on the set of Scarface as Tony Montana’s compound was seized by Sosa’s drug cartel. What followed was like playing opposite Harrison Ford in yet another Indiana Jones movie filmed in Morocco.

Ok, maybe not that dramatic, but life here is sometimes like the movies– a mix of realism, magic (like the sandstorm that blew up outside my apartment as I wrote this as if on cue), and moments of Monty Python. Yesterday’s road trip was to Ozoud Falls, located150 kilometers from Marrakech, in the province of Azilal. We began at 8 AM in a van arranged by Ismail Amzilo of Morocco Desert Adventures. Our journey was cathartic providing fright, wonder, and laughter. It quenched thirst for adventure, beauty and relationship–especially because it was shared with a community of coworkers that functions like family when living abroad. Together we weathered the long ride (3 hours each way fraught with bathroom stops behind bushes and in some scary Turkish toilets). Still we pressed past queasy stomachs, even rain that prevented the full hike we’d planned, but in the end were rewarded with much fun including a couple of surprises.

So about those monkeys…while seated on a café terrace watching the waterfalls and waiting for tajines,

Monkey #1 climbed out of the rocks onto the bamboo ledge that wound around our table. His eyes were fixed and unreadable as he slinked toward us like a model on a New York runway while we, the paparazzi, breathlessly snapped photos. With one swift leap, he dove into trees behind and below our table and was gone.

We all sat down again, thrilled with the close encounter. Emily was sitting beside me, her back leaned against the bamboo where the monkey had disappeared. Suddenly, with the stealth, stoicism, and surprise of the assassins who scaled the walls surrounding Tony Montana’s mansion, the monkey’s paws, then terrifying grin appeared beside Emily’s ear. At our screams (and my unfortunate “Oh Shit!”) he again vanished. Emily moved to the other side of the table, and I scooted close to her, while Bethany and Jon said they weren’t afraid and would keep watch.

Clockwise from head of table: Jen, Rachel, Eliza, Jon, Ali, Bethany, Audrey, Emily, Ben, Jason, Julie

While we finished dessert, a large female monkey– Big Mama– appeared on the ledge at the other end of the table. She stared, unblinking, at us, then began her strut down the runway.

Jumping up, we again grabbed cameras. One…two…three…four steps…

a quick leap to the right…and she POUNCED on the middle of the table. Brazenly grabbing the breadbasket, she took off, rebuked by Jon who had seen his 3^rd grade teacher bitten on the butt by a monkey at school. That poor woman had rabies shots and stitches.

Thankfully, the ones we saw on the trail the rest of the day were smaller and not aggressive. And though Jon’s story (and another he told in the van about an alligator who bit an elephant’s nose) had us worried about the man we saw with a monkey perched on his shoulder, I hoped his turban would protect his ear should the creature take a nip.

We headed down to the platform where we posed, snapped poses, and were posed with.

And then our descent began down what seemed to be hundreds of steps–a great workout considering a storm looming prevented our mountain climbing.

New customers had taken our seats on the ledge. Wonder if the monkeys made an encore appearance?

At the bottom were more photo shoots before we boarded a Moroccan-style gondola for our ride into the cascades.

IMG_9030 - Version 2 — Photo by Jon Wommack

Back on the van we heard a story from one of our tiny troopers about giants wearing flip flops. The waterfalls made us all feel small again with their Jurassic Park size and spray. As our guide rowed us into them, I’m not sure I’ve laughed that hard since carnival rides with my sister at the Wilson County fair or Opryland’s Grizzly River Rampage. And there were two more surprises. Who says life isn’t ponies and rainbows? Yesterday we enjoyed both.

12168842_10204945613391061_1999821723_o — Photo by Julie TuSpaz

Morocco Desert Adventures is on Facebook. For tour information, Ismail can be contacted at info@moroccodesertadventures.com.

Worldwide Photo Walk

October 5, 2015April 28, 2018Cindy McCain

Last Saturday over 21k people were involved in a worldwide shooting. From my home in Nashville to my residence in Marrakech, participants grabbed cameras and celebrated life on photo walks in 1000 locations. To learn more about Scott Kelby’s Photo Walks go here.

Ours was scheduled in the medina to begin at 9:30 at the Café de FRANCE on Jemma El Fna square. Jon–a friend, pro artist and skilled photographer– and I met Kate, a friend from Australia who told me about the event because she had previously done a walk in Melbourne. Synnove, a Norwegian friend I met on a hike last spring, surprised me when she appeared as we were meeting Mustapha, a Moroccan tour consultant of Intrepid Travel, signed up for the walk. After mint tea and juice, we wondered where our photographer/organizer was. Kate checked online and discovered he had changed the time to 3 PM. Unable to wait or return later, we made Jon our fearless leader and were off.

After winding through wares of silver, sequins, and Sahara green pottery, we went into Ben Youssef Madrasa, a visual feast. A special treat was a place I’d been wanting to check out– The Marrakech Museum of Photography— where we saw Jean Manuel’s Portrait of Touareg, the first “photoshopped portrait,” Landrock’s Young Arab, about which I learned Tunisian boys wore jasmine behind their left ears to signify to girls they were available, and Jean Manuel’s Portrait du Tourareg, a personal favorite for a couple of years now. Our session ended at the rooftop cafe of the museum–one of the best panoramic views from within city walls. Shooting in Marrakech manually–bringing its kalidescope shapes and colors into focus– was magic. Especially because it made me feel like a kid again.

Choosing settings for the study of light and dark the souks provide. Photo by Kate Woods

Said to be first “photoshopped” photo (head placed on different body)–details below

Essaouira…When Goats Fly

September 27, 2015February 9, 2020Cindy McCain

I spent my second Eid al-Adha, “Festival of Sacrifice,” in Morocco perched again in my favorite holiday nest above Essaouira. I love Jack’s Apartments–especially numbers 6 and 7–positioned above the medina and wall hailed by history, Hollywood, and HBO. From the balcony all I see is sea. All I hear are seagull shrieks slicing through blue sky and roaring winds, waves crashing into rocks, then spewing like geysers below.

I returned to be calmed by the churning ocean and to be broken by beauty. To rest on the ramparts–a visual reminder of God’s protection everyday.

Here I can relax and remember what I too often forget–that prayers have been and will be answered. Though I’m usually optimistic, in seemingly impossible situations or when I’m tired of waiting for answers about the future to come, I’m tempted to think change will occur “when pigs fly.” Translated: Never or in a long, long time. Here pigs don’t fly because there are none. But goats do. It’s easy to be hopeful, to be grateful in Essaouira. Here my faith is strengthened in the quiet, the calm, the time to simply breathe and remember and cling to promises that I’ve been given for my good.

Thanks to my friend, Ritchie, for photographing the goats in trees. She joined me at another hotel the last day of my getaway and her bus driver stopped, unlike mine, to allow passengers to get shots of the goats in Argan trees. — Thanks to my friend and coworker, Ritchie, for photographing the goats climbing Argan trees to feed. She joined me the last day of the break and her bus driver stopped, unlike mine, to allow passengers to get shots.

On this wall anything seems possible. Orson Welles became Othello in Shakespeare’s play of a biracial couple hundreds of years before South African apartheid and south America’s Jim Crowe laws were abolished. Here Game of Thrones’ Danerys—a widow and queen—raised an army from men she freed and commanded her dragon to destroy an evil ruler.

gamesofthrones — Danerys and her army–photo from link below where you will also find Tom Rowsell’s “Game of Thrones Holidays in Morroco” which includes a video of the scene to which I referred. http://www.essaouira.nu/culture_movies.htm

Here Mogador, original name of Essaouria, defended herself since she was founded by the Phoenicians in the 6th century agains Roman, Arab, Portuguese, and French rule. Pirates, an earthquake, and a tsunami couldn’t destroy the city that, like the Phoenix, rose from ashes.

I’ve always been revived by the sea. A mermaid in Marrakesh–a sometimes fish-out-of-water– I need its salt as salve. I feel small next to the ocean and the horizon–reminders of how big God is. His love washes over me. Though I still miss my children on the other side of the Atlantic every single day and find this empty nest thing one of the biggest challenges of my life, I’m thankful for this new season away with God where he provides new adventure, beauty, and relationship.

On a rooftop with a 360 panoramic view I wonder where I’ll be a year from now. One of my biggest lessons of last year–of this move–was in a book I taught, Life of Pi: “All of life is letting go.” I’m still working on more trust, less worry. I only know the same hand that stirs the surf and tames the tide holds whatever is to come. As is said here by Muslim friends (as well as Christians and Jews in the Middle East and parts of Africa)… In sha Allah. As God wills.