marrakech: why i traded a leather satchel for a vintage duffel bag

i woke up to a ceiling fan spinning like a caged owl, the only sound in this apartment besides the hum of a fridge that smells faintly of expired mint. the temp’s 27.96, which is, uh, basically a dry sauna. i checked an app and it’s there right now, heat clinging to skin like a bad memory. if you’re not into that, skip ahead to the next paragraph where i talk about duffel bags.

yesterday, i found a vintage duffel bag at a market stall wrapped in a moth-eaten quilt. it cost 100 dirhams, which is less than a tank of gas. i didn’t need it for sleeping, but it fit everything-journals, a bottle of cheap mint gum, even that scrappy polaroid of a street artist shouting into the void. the seller’s face was a roadmap of wrinkles, but they insisted, keep it, it’s got stories.



i heard from a tourist that if you get bored, riyadh are just a short drive away. i didn’t believe ’em. i’ve never been anywhere where a city feels like a whisper away except maybe in a flight simulator. but here? this place is all dirt roads and sudden desert vistas. the neighbors? they’re either asleep or out drinking in courtyards. one old man keeps a go-cart near his door that he hops on whenever it rains. i saw him last night hydroplaning through a puddle and almost knocking over a piñata made of old leyes. it was either poetic or reckless. can’t decide.

"they said the tap water turns your tongue blue"

i don’t know who ‘they’ are. a kid? a hallucination? either way, i steered clear. i drank milky tea from a gas station instead. the heat hogs your fluids, and if you’re not careful, you’ll start sweating in your sleep. which i did. woke up with a puddle under my luxury duffel bag. now it smells faintly of mildew and regret.


maybe this place isn’t for everyone. some reviews on tripadvisor warn about pickpockets near the medina. others say the sun here burns secrets into your skin. i’m not sure which is true. but i’m here, and i’m wearing socks with holes in them. because when you travel like this, even socks get a story.


link to a map: marrakech street map
link to vintage shop: leather bags on unsplash


if you like this chaos, check out my instagram. i post polaroids of exactly this: duffel bags, ghost towns, and the occasional goat that stared at me like i’d stolen its life’s work.

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