Morocco, the westernmost country of the Maghreb and also the most exotic, is there, just a stone’s throw from Europe. An extensive network of motorways connect anywhere in the old continent with such small maritime passage that opens the box of wonders. Sometimes real, uncontaminated exoticism. The fascination of a world that moves to strokes of a tradition that comes from a culture foreign to who come from the North. The internal contradiction that involve his attempts to modernize. Its landscape splendid, as diverse times as its inhabitants, as the people that shaped him. Cities, towns, villages. Glories of Islam, along with tiny populations in the minimum level of subsistence.
A human mosaic which remains attached by own circus tightrope. Berber, Arabs, beings originating in the Mediterranean area that once in awhile, came here and stayed here. The first University in the world and people who never saw a written paper. Mountains, gorges, rivers, desert, sand and stone, endless beaches, mar bravo and calm waters, Nevis and scorching sun. And all, in a manageable area, an affordable surface, human.
But discover Morocco, the real Morocco, isn’t easy. As almost always happens: the traveler who landed their illusions in the country, doing well through a trip organized, either in solo, but always fearful of discovery, always carried away others, topical image ideas, allowing a few spaces to the imagination. And Morocco requires dedication, effort, leaving the conventional, to understand it, to love it, to simply detect the magic that contains. Hence the car. Because there are places, environments, situations, which only are accessible from the freedom afforded to navigate on their own. And if that vehicle is able to move us beyond the limits imposed by the asphalt, we will reach the fullness, the unique possibility to know what others will only be able to Intuit.