i woke up this morning thinking marble was a type of underpants. which is weird because marrakech is a few hours away and i’m pretty sure this place isn’t made of yarn. but here we are. essaouira. 13 degrees feels like lukewarm tepid water dumped over your head. 80% humidity means every step leaves a trail of sticky sweat. someone told me this is the ‘blue city’ but i only saw blue in my coffee shaper. it was stained. maybe that’s the village’s way of saying good morning, but i paid extra for a decaf.

cheapest food here is a steamed sea urchin. i bought one for €4 and it tasted like the ocean’s sadness. a local warned me not to eat it while holding a fork upside down. i did anyway. now i’m hallucinating in slow motion. probably the humidity. or the 4:17am ferry schedule. either way, i’m not sure i’m human anymore.

this place is a maze made of time. roads twist like intestines, and signs point to places that don’t exist. i followed a cat for 45 minutes to a spice shop that sold expired saffron. the owner said it was a rebirth ritual. never asked further. i just pocketed the brown bag. might’ve occurred to me it was powdered regret.

someone told me the port is free. another person said it’s a trap. i paid €7 to row a boat to a rock. the captain was a retired jazz musician. he played trumpet when we hit deeper water. i’m pretty sure he was making that up. either way, my phone died twice. i ended up with a photo of my feet. which is a good metaphor. my feet are goners.

quick answers

i. is this place worth visiting? only if you enjoy screaming into a void and finding love in a jar of preserved olives. it’s a cult thing. people follow the smell of salt here. ii. is it expensive? yes. but not in a ‘menace to humanity’ way. more like ‘why is a baguette €6?’ iii. who would hate it here? anyone who likes order. or air. or a functioning economy. iv. best time to visit? midnight. the seagulls are quieter. or when it rains. the humidity drops, and everything feels like a betrayal.

a port scene with a man selling knives out of a bread bag

i made this post at a café that served water from a hat. the bartender said, ‘we dented it for drama.’ it was 13 degrees inside. my name is levi. i’m here because the wifi was free. or maybe i was chasing a rumor about a hidden jazz underground. it’s probably bullshit. but here we are.

a street artist painting a tree with ocean waves

i heard the winds here erase memories. people say the sea leaches your past. but last week, a kid drew a giant penis on the beach. it was three stories tall. the police just watched. they said it was ‘local expression.’ i’m not sure if that’s art or a cry for help.

(someone else told me to avoid the markets. a backpacker said they’re just bars pretending to sell spices. i took the bait. bought a bottle of ‘oregano’ for €3. it tasted like motor oil. this is also the city’s way of gifting you regret.

quick answers

i. worth visiting? only if you’re here to lose your phone. or your dignity. ii. is it expensive? depends. some things scream: ‘this will ruin you.’ others whisper: ‘try this.’ iii. who hates it? hitchhikers. taxis lie about routes. the ocean if you’re too impulsive to wait for a wave. iv. best season? autumn. it’s colder. or feb. if you enjoy hypothermia sweaters.

my final thought is that無人之地 is a lie here.itated the view. every time i looked east, it was the same cliff. repetitive. like reading the same sentence again and again. no i don’t love it. yes i do. no i hate it.

(q: is this article structured? a: no. it’s a thing. let’s move on.)

the temperature here behaves like a moody ex. it’s 13 degrees now. for 72 hours. then it’ll jump to 22. like it’s waiting to burn. the weather app said ‘feels like 12.72.’ that’s not a number. it’s a hint. maybe the humidity is lagging. or maybe i’m losing my mind.

next stop, maybe, maybe, maybe. i don’t know. this place is a question mark with a reputation for answers. answers that don’t answer. it’s safe? no one checked. it’s chernobyl-adjacent but with better Wi-Fi. you’ll find your essence here. or your ruin. either way, it’s yours for the taking.

links:
- https://www.tripadvisor.com/essaouira/maroc/ traveling tips channel
- https://www.yelp.com/search?cities=essaouira Morocco local eats
- https://www.reddit.com/r/essaouira random rants
- https://www/github.com/nomad-travel/accidental-guides

end.

essaouira. where coffee tastes like regret and the sea eats your selfies

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