As we near the last 2 hours of our 14 hour flight to Dubai, the lights are on and we have all finished breakfast. Really not a bad one for aeroplane food either, Emirates are good at their snacks.

I’m scanning the plane and wondering where everyone is headed. To me, Dubai is more of a transit city. Fun to visit but everyone always seems to do so on their way to somewhere else. In the conversations I’ve had on the plane, I’ve heard London, Delhi, Paris and I’ve managed to spy travel guides for Spain and Egypt. So far no clues to suggest anyone might join me on my connecting flight to Casablanca.

I’ve just started reading ‘the art of travel’ by Alan Boutton. The first part talks of all the crappy bits, the packing, the long flights and the layovers…then all that work to discover it wasn’t anything like you expected. Reading on my 2 hour luggage free flight from the Sunshine Coast to Melbourne this seemed like a silly concept. Easy preparation, guaranteed payoff with all of the people I love at the end of it.

But right now, after over 10 hours in the air, with a nasty flu and a seat companion that took up more than her fair share of our two seats, I’ll admit, I’m thinking Morocco better be bloody amazing!

So what is the pretty picture of Morocco in my head?It’s hard to put my finger on, but for some years now I have been drawn to Morocco. I tend to say its the colorful architecture, the silver in the souks, the mosaics on the walls, the diverse landscape…but its really the intrigue. A place so different to my norm, so rich in culture, color, that’s what draws me in.

So a couple of weeks ago when the opportunity popped up, I grabbed it with both hands…

“Will I see you tonight?”
“I never make plans that far ahead.”