Baby Moon in Morocco
As 2021 begins, I am reflecting on all of the positive events of 2020 hoping that the new year will be filled with more of them- more of travel, experience and human connection- all of which define me. A small part of my identity has been hidden since the pandemic began and I cannot wait to find her again in 2021. Around this time last year, I was pregnant with my second baby and it was our tradition to plan a baby moon. This baby moon, we would be traveling with my 9-month daughter and ring in 2020 with a gender reveal in Marrakech, Morocco.
As thoughtfully as Skylar’s baby moon was planned, this trip seemed to require more meaningful details. I am choosing what to expose my daughter to and the kind of energy I wanted to bring upon my second child. I felt some responsibility for our experience.
The first step was picking a location. Practically speaking, the flight time mattered. We were traveling with an infant and we had a little less than two weeks off from work. I limited it to 10 hours or less to help narrow down parts of the globe. Then I went to my travel destination ritual. I unraveled an atlas and looked at the world from above allowing myself to gravitate towards an area. My energy crossed the Atlantic Ocean and focused on Northern Africa and West of the continent would meet the flight time. When I started doing a little research on Morocco, it was perfect. Everything about Morocco told me that I would expose Skylar to every sense that she was developing and magnify her curiosity. From the smell of spice market in the Medina of Marrakech to the sand dunes she would be crawling on in the Sahara Desert, her sense of exploration would be ignited. And as a baby moon, I wanted the trip to be filled with culture, adventure and gratitude.
The trip was 9 days total. The first 3 nights were spent in Marrakech where we would count down to the new year and the second portion included camping in the Sahara desert. The last night would be one of rest and a treat for my family before returning to the States.
We took an overnight flight and landed in Marrakech just before dawn. By the time we stepped out of the airport, the sun was bright, the air was still cool and I knew this beautiful day was the beginning of a wonderful trip. I booked a Riad for the first few nights. A Riad, by definition, is a traditional Moroccan house. The term comes from the Arab word ‘ryad’ which means garden. A Riad house has all of their rooms built around a garden that sits in the courtyard. It is usually owned and run by a Moroccan family and no more than about a dozen rooms. Riad Miski was dreamy with its white walls and plush plants. The family made us feel comfortable immediately. We had tea on the rooftop each morning before laying out the plan for the day.
We spent an entire day Souk shopping and exploring the Medina. Our walk from the Riad to the Medina was an adventure in it of itself crowded with locals, motorcycles and street food. We weaved through it all with a baby stroller, Skylar’s eyes wide as Moroccan women cooed her in Arabic and scooters zoomed past. When we arrived, it was just liked I had read about. Scents of spices, perfume and leather surrounded us. Rich and bold colors were everywhere. And clusters of Arab markets laid out their most exquisite pashminas and rugs. We bought two pashminas- a blue and a pink one in anticipation of the gender reveal that evening.
10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1! Confetti fell from the Riad’s balcony and it was a BOY! We celebrated the night away dancing to live music, Skylar bouncing in our arms to the rhythm of the Qraqebs- metal castanets played in each hand.
We spent the next two days at Jardin Majorelle, Bahia Palace and the Koutobia mosque soaking in the Moorish architecture. We took a walk outside the mosque through the gardens and took a break on a bench. That 20-minute break was a highlight of my trip. A conversation with a Romanian single mother traveling with her son as a Moroccan woman painted my hand with Henna are the kinds of things that make travel special.
The next day, we thanked our Riad hosts as we met our tour guide who would be driving us out to the Sahara. It would take an entire day with a stop at an outside village before entering the desert. At our stop, we walked by a small shop with headscarves blowing in the wind outside of its doors. We each picked one out including my baby girl, learned how to wrap them and got in the jeep for a rocky ride out to the dunes where we would camp for 2 nights.
The Sahara was incredible and there is not a photographer on this planet that will ever do the golden sand and shadows justice. For a moment, as we climbed the dunes and Ricky was carrying Skylar walking ahead of me, I had to stop and appreciate what was happening around me. The wind was erasing my footsteps in the sand. The only place that existed was where I was standing there and then and the grains of sand were moving indefinitely, constantly shaping and changing what was around me. Take a deep breath and don’t take this for granted, I told myself.
We observed open skies at night, each star shining as if the only light in the dark. Skylar swallowed a bunch of sand. We ate Tajine which is a dish and a cooking pot made of unglazed clay. We curled up in heavy blankets around a campfire as the locals sang all night. Ricky attempted to sand board as Skylar, my bump and I watched confirming my decision to get travel insurance.
Then we had the honor to meet the nomads of the desert. They invited us for a visit and we happily accepted. We crawled underneath the tent that was their home onto the carpet and watched baby goats come in and out. Our tour guide told us stories about Morocco, its history and religion as we sipped on mint tea.
Afterwards, we visited the school. It was a big fabric tent held together with sticks and rope with approximately half a dozen desks and a chalkboard at the front. There was a rickety merri-go-round placed nearby. They were teaching Arabic, English and French. The school was controversial for the desert and took a lot of effort for it to be built. The nomad children thought the desert was the world- cities and oceans did not exist. Now there would be education offered and perhaps provoke them to leave.
Then of course, the part of the trip I was ecstatic about- riding camels through the desert! More specifically, riding dromedaries. A dromedary is also called the Arabian camel and only has one hump. Skylar was actually turning 9 months on this day and I could not think of a better way to spend it. Ricky had Skylar in the ergo baby carrier as they climbed upon one camel. I stepped on carefully at 20 weeks pregnant. A gentleman lead the dromedaries on a rope throughout the Sahara until sunset. The scene was absolutely breathtaking and watching Skylar see the world from that view made me wonder how she would approach it one day.
Our last night would be spent in Marrakech. As a grand finale to our baby moon, I decided to book La Mamounia. La Mamounia is a well-known luxury palace hotel. I figured after the flight, jetlag, long trip to the desert and camping without heat or hot water, we deserved this! I reserved massages for us- first Ricky then one for myself as we passed off the baby in between. We ordered room service, took long showers and baths then slept in a warm, sumptuous bed before flying out.
As we scrolled through photos and reflected on our baby moon, I promised to plan travel as a family with intention and purpose. We agreed that the experience was deeply rewarding. We got everything we were looking for- culture, adventure, a sense of gratitude and so much more!
