A Moroccan Escape, A Ferry Ride, and the Magic of the Right Company
By Chloe Beaufoy
There are trips you take for adventure, trips you take for work, and then there are the ones you take because your spirit taps you softly on the shoulder and says, My dear, you need to breathe. This journey begans as a third kind.
Morocco and I already had history. Years ago, I had done the girls trip version. Agadir. Marrakech. A birthday. Think YSL Museum, Jardin Majorelle, hammam spa steam, and the souk with more energy than Lagos on a Friday. That experience had its own sparkle. Laughter with friends. Dancing between stalls. Buying things I probably could not justify, but absolutely needed for the moment. A trip that felt like glitter dusted on sunshine.
This time was different. This time, I went back with my husband, Don, for a well deserved break from work and responsibility. And let me tell you, travelling with your husband, when he is your lover, your friend, your gist partner, and your personal hype man all in one, creates a different kind of magic. The type of magic that does not need a museum ticket or an itinerary to shine. We can laugh over airport coffee and make memories while waiting for boarding. That kind of love travels well.
We landed in Casablanca and checked into the Four Seasons. And because it is the Four Seasons, everything looked like it had been ironed, perfumed, and personally rehearsed for our arrival. Sensational does not begin to describe it. We visited the Hassan Mosque, a breathtaking masterpiece that makes you pause and reflect even if you did not plan to be reflective. We wandered through the Corniche and had rooftop moments at Royal Mansour, where elegance sits as casually as a queen on a Tuesday morning.
From Casablanca, we made our way to Marrakech. Our home here was the Savoy. Let me say it politely. The Four Seasons had raised our taste buds and the Savoy had a more commercial personality. Charming, yes, but not whispering luxury to my spirit the way the Four Seasons did. Still, Marrakech is Marrakech. It does not disappoint. We immersed ourselves in the souk, ate at traditional Moroccan restaurants where the entertainment makes you smile whether you want to or not, and of course, we ended the nights at places like Buddha Bar where the vibe, entertainment, and atmosphere remind you that joy can be theatrical.
Then came the road trip. Marrakech to Tangier. A long drive, yes, but the kind that gives you time to talk, laugh, nap, admire scenery, and plan a new life in your imagination before changing your mind. The Moroccan roads are so smooth that Don began a passionate comparison with Nigerian roads. He quoted GDP figures. He analysed government spending. He lamented loudly. I had to remind him gently, and repeatedly, that we were on holiday. Nigeria must not be allowed to live rent free in our minds. Not today. Not on these smooth Moroccan roads.
Arriving in Tangier felt like stepping into a painting. It is calm, stunning, and confident without trying. Our hotel, Idou Malabata beach and spa , deserves its own paragraph. This hotel may not carry the Four Seasons name, but it carries a level of excellence that surprised me. Everything worked. Everything delighted. Everything whispered welcome. I would go back in a heartbeat.
And then it happened. My first ever ferry ride. Tangier to Malaga. One hour and thirty minutes across continents. I stood there thinking, look at life. Africa to Europe by water. A simple crossing that felt like a metaphor. Movement. Transition. Possibility. The ferry hummed, the water stretched endlessly, and I sat next to the man who turns every journey into a memory worth keeping.
Malaga welcomed us gently, with bright skies and the calm confidence of a city that knows how to host.
And as I looked back at the entire trip, from Casablanca to Marrakech to Tangier to Spain, one truth settled deeper in my heart.
It is not the place that makes the journey. It is the company.
With the right person beside you, even airport queues become stories you tell later with a smile.
