Sarah Pollok, Multimedia Journalist at New Zealand’s Herald, specialises in covering stories on travel and tourism, travelling as close as Waiheke and far as Ecuador for work.
I found myself in the bustling heart of Jemaa El-Fnaa markets, in Marrakech, when a wave of unease swept over me. It wasn’t the crowd or the blaring music that triggered it, but a cautionary tale from my Intrepid Travel guide, Brahim.
“Whatever you do,” he told our small tour group “never follow anyone anywhere unless they have a certified tourism operator lanyard,” he said, holding his up so we could see.
“People will tell you they know of a secret market, or special event or shortcut, but instead they will lead you to a quiet alley where others may be waiting, and mug you”.
Legitimate tour guides in Morocco always wear their lanyard to prove they are certified. Photo / Sarah Pollok
The dread was because, just several days prior, I had been promised such a ‘shortcut’ by a stranger. Not knowing better, I had followed him.
I don’t consider myself a particularly naive traveller. Sure, I’m a Kiwi, so I’m likely more trusting than the average person but my gut is good when it comes to sensing when things are off. As I would learn, it saved me from a potentially dangerous but allegedly common tourist trap in Morocco.
Before visiting Morocco, friends expressed concerns about me exploring cities alone, but my initial day in Marrakech surprised me with the warmth of its people.
After mentioning having free days in Marrakech, a young concierge from my hotel spent 25 minutes writing me a detailed itinerary for Tangier, jotting down recommended beaches, hotels, restaurants and even trains I should take to get there.
After visiting the famous Jardin Majorelle later that day, I decided to walk 25 minutes back to my hotel (still uncertain about taxi prices), when a small elderly man fell into step beside me and began chatting.
As it happened, he had worked as a gardener at Jardin Majorelle for decades and asked if I enjoyed the visit. He then cycled through the typical tourist questions (Where was I from? Had I visited Morocco before? Where do I plan to visit?) and the conversation flowed easily. As we strode along dusty footpaths, I asked what his plan for the rest of the day was, attempting to wrap up the conversation.
He said he was off to a special celebration in a nearby Mosque and invited me to come and observe. As someone who loves getting off the beaten track, I was intrigued.
It's easy to get lost in the labyrinth of Marrakech's old town. Photo / Sarah Pollok
He then asked where I was heading and when I mentioned returning to my hotel in the old town he said that, not only was the celebration only known about by locals but was also a shortcut to the old town, pointing to a warren of streets to the left. As we crossed a busy intersection, I glanced at the map on my phone, certain my route to the right was the most direct.
My gut softly twinged but I didn’t want to be close-minded or judgemental. I wanted to be carefree and intrepid, to open myself up to these twists of fate that can often turn into the best stories. At the time, I had my credit card, passport, driver’s license, DSLR camera and about one hundred dollars of cash on me.
So, we turned left, away from the start of a busy market and he began talking about his wife and young children. With every step, the little knot in my gut tightened until, two minutes later, I stopped and said I was turning back.
“No no,” he said, “trust me it’s going be incredible, you want to see it”. I paused, unconvinced. “I understand why you might not trust me but I have a job, I have children and a family, you can trust me,” he added.
I was torn. I didn’t want to stereotype an innocent guy who simply wanted to show me a good time in Morocco and I didn’t want my wariness to hurt his feelings.
But, his increasing urgency, repeating how I could trust him, only tightened my gut further. Suddenly, I reached for my phone, and pulled it up to my ear, as if receiving a phone call.
“Hi Dad,” I said, hiding my blank screen from the man. “Oh, okay, I can come back, yes I’m 10 minutes away, I’ll start walking now.” Putting my hand over the speaker, I told the man I had to return to the hotel, spun around and quickly strode back to the right. The man began shouting for me to come back but I continued, phone to my ear, continuing my ‘call’ with a parent who was most certainly in New Zealand.
Unscathed, I forgot the experience quickly, until a few days later, in Jemma El-Faa market, when Brahim delivered his safety advice.
It was daunting to imagine what may have happened if I’d followed that man into the labyrinth of streets. I was glad to learn of this tourist trap the easy way but it did remind me of the line between trust and caution; one every traveller must draw for themselves.
On one hand, you don’t want to travel perpetually terrified of threats and strangers. Some of my best travel memories were made after meeting people and jumping on bandwagons. On the other hand, risks do become riskier when you’re in a foreign environment far away from support and people aren’t always as honest as back home.
The trick, for me, is taking precautious first and then accepting opportunities second, as long as I’m free to tap out when my gut speaks up. Update friends and family if you accept spontaneous plans or travel with new people. Don’t walk around with all your valuables on you (as I did), and always prioritise your gut instinct above someone feeling judged.
