In ten days, I’ll be travelling to Morocco via Air France.
I’ve always wanted to travel, to be one of those people who somehow manages to pick up and leave, has the money and the leisure to go, doesn’t have a thousand pressing commitments back home keeping them tied down. I’m not one of those people, but I’ve managed to make a space for myself somehow anyway. I didn’t need to take any extraordinary measures; I just decided I was going, and everything worked out around it.
For two years I’ve been idly watching Travelzoo for flights to Morocco, and finally in June, I saw a deal I couldn’t resist. A $600 return flight to Casablanca? It was a four-day sale, so I borrowed money from my sister Sammi until the next payday, and bought a ticket.

Okay, it was a bit reckless. I was under-employed at the time, and wasn’t sure how I was going to afford the trip. Morocco is pretty cheap, but y’know, not as cheap as staying at home. And then the warnings started to pour in: a woman, travelling alone in an African country, is inevitably going to be drugged, robbed, raped, and sold into the sex slave trade. Twice. ”Is it safe?” became the constant question. “Is my neighbourhood safe?” I’d reply (not particularly). I could go nowhere and still die an untimely death; the world is an uncertain place, even in the places you’re most certain about.
Other people’s fears aside, big-scare safety concerns aren”t really something that worries me. I’m more worried about fatigue, dehydration, culture shock and homesickness. And pick-pockets. Because this is a working trip (some of my income comes from work as a Social Media Consultant), I’m worried about finding reliable internet access, tho I’m assured that it’s a very wired country and I do have a backup, just in case. Read the rest of this entry »




Roll out pastry to about 10′ x 10′ (if store-bought, thaw 2 hours). Prick pastry with a fork.