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How the Hot Hazy Hammam was I Supposed to Know?!
The Moroccan solo holiday that changed the way I travel
Moroccan men are the most handsome I have ever encountered. Nowhere else have I seen such a concentration of attractive men — old, middle-aged, in their 30s, even teenagers.
What qualifies me to say this? I love men. Since I was a young girl, I’ve been ogling and swooning over them through the TV screen. Beauty is subjective, but I’m talking about the kind of handsomeness that comes with symmetry — an almost perfect face.
Warm Beginnings
It was June 2011, and I was traveling to Morocco for the first time. A Moroccan friend living in Japan had shared intriguing stories that convinced me to visit on my way home to Botswana. My research showed warm, sunny temperatures, so I packed accordingly. The only winter clothing I had was the pair of jeans I wore on the journey.
I landed in Rabat on a Thursday evening where I booked a hotel for one night before heading to Casablanca to stay with another friend, Karim, who’d previously lived in Japan. He refused to let me sleep in a hotel. His fiancée, Iman, lived in Rabat, and he insisted I take a taxi there, directing the driver in Moroccan over the phone.
