
10 Days
Morocco Honeymoon
Ten days designed for two. You'll wake in riads where fountains echo, sleep in desert camps with nothing but stars, and end where the Atlantic meets ancient ramparts. This is Morocco at its most intimate.
Your Route

Day 1
Marrakech
The souks spiral inward by specialty—leather, brass, carpets, spices. Each turn narrows. Bahia Palace holds its painted ceilings in afternoon shadow. The hammam strips you down to quiet. By evening, Jemaa el-Fna transforms. Smoke rises from a hundred grills. Storytellers gather crowds. The square has done this for centuries. It doesn't need your permission.

Day 2
Marrakech → Ouarzazate
The road climbs until the city disappears. Stone villages cling to slopes where light shifts by the hour. Switchbacks tighten around you like a held breath. By afternoon, the mountains release you into ochre silence. Ouarzazate waits—not as a destination, but as a threshold. The air here tastes different. Drier. Older. You've crossed something.

Day 3
Ouarzazate → Merzouga
East into the pre-Sahara. The road stretches through country that empties as you go. Tinghir's palms, then Todra—canyon walls vertical and close, afternoon shadow pooling at the bottom. Beyond Erfoud, the hammada ends. Erg Chebbi rises. The dunes turn gold, then orange, then colors without names. Camp appears. The sand is still warm from the day.

Day 4
Merzouga
A day without roads. The dunes shift color as the sun moves—pink at dawn, gold at noon, orange by evening. You can walk to nomad tents where tea is poured without ceremony. Or drive to Khamlia where Gnawa music rises from the sand. Or do nothing. The desert doesn't require your participation. It just asks that you notice.

Day 5
Merzouga → Fes
You leave the dunes at dawn. Sand still holds the cold. North through the Ziz—palms against red rock, gorge walls rising then falling. The Middle Atlas appears in cedar and mist. Barbary macaques sit like philosophers. By evening, Fes sprawls below—a thousand years of medina, smoke rising from a hundred hammams. You've crossed something. The desert hasn't left.

Day 6
Fes
Nine thousand alleys. The medina hasn't changed in a thousand years—same crafts, same quarters, same calls echoing off the walls. The tanneries still use pigeon dung. The brass workers still hammer by hand. You get lost. Everyone does. A boy leads you out for a coin. By evening, you've stopped trying to map it. The labyrinth is the point.

Day 7
Fes → Marrakech
A direct highway drive from Fes to Marrakech, covering the distance in approximately six hours.

Day 8
Marrakech → Essaouira
West toward water. The road flattens through argan groves where goats climb trees like punctuation marks. The air changes before you see the sea—salt, wind, something loosening. Essaouira appears white against blue. The port smells of fish and freedom. Shutters rattle. The city doesn't try to impress. She's busy being.

Day 9
Essaouira
The wind never stops. That's the first thing. Essaouira moves at a different speed—artists in studios, fishermen mending nets, cats watching from ramparts. The port smells of sardines and salt. The beach stretches south toward nothing. By sunset, the walls glow gold. The Atlantic doesn't sparkle here. She pulls.

Day 10
Essaouira → Marrakech
The coast releases you slowly. Fishing boats shrink in the mirror as the road turns inland, climbing through argan groves where goats still perch in trees—not for tourists, just because they always have. The plain opens, heat rising, until Marrakech appears as a shimmer before it becomes real. You've closed the circle.
This journey is a starting point.
These itineraries aren't fixed. They're designed to bend. Add a day in the desert. Skip the city. Stay longer where something pulls you. This is your journey—we shape it around what matters to you.
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