I’ve been guiding tours in Morocco for four years, and last week something happened that reminded me why I still love this job, even when it barely pays.
Had a family from Canada. Nice people, but the dad was one of those guys who thinks he knows everything from YouTube. On day three we’re in the Atlas Mountains. I stop at a Berber village where my cousin’s family lives. Tea, bread baking, no sales pitch, nothing staged.
The dad pulls me aside and asks, “How much are you making off this stop?”
I told him the truth. “Nothing. We’re having tea because it’s rude not to. You can stay in the van if you want.”
He went in anyway. His daughter ended up helping the grandmother bake bread, laughing when the dough stuck to her hands. We stayed two hours. Later he apologized and said he’d been paranoid about getting scammed. I get it.
Here’s the thing people don’t get about Morocco. Yes, there are hustlers. Yes, some taxi drivers overcharge. That exists everywhere tourists go. What people miss is the rest of it. The guy who jump-started my car in Fes. The family who invited me for Friday couscous because I helped their kid with English. The old man who’s been teaching me Darija at his café for two years and never once asked for anything.
Last month I had two women in their sixties. One had just lost her husband. She barely spoke the first few days. In the Sahara I found her sitting alone, staring at the dunes. I sat nearby without talking. Eventually she opened up about her husband, about feeling lost. Then she said, “I’ve been so worried about being scammed that I forgot to actually be here.”
We sat until the stars came out. I pointed out constellations and told her stories my grandfather used to tell me. She cried a little. The good kind. On the last day she hugged me and said Morocco gave her something she didn’t know she needed.
The hardest groups are the ones who treat everything like a transaction. So focused on not getting ripped off that they miss the experience entirely. They don’t talk to the spice seller because they assume he wants money. They don’t stop for tea because they think it’s a setup. They follow GPS instead of asking people.
The best groups show up curious. They try street food. They attempt a few words of Arabic. They understand that yeah, some people hustle, but most people are just people.
I’ve made real friends through this job. Been invited to weddings in Germany and Canada. Got messages years later saying Morocco changed something in them. I’ve also had reviews saying I “wasted time” with tea stops and that village visits were “clearly staged.” People spent thousands to come here and were too armored up to let anything in.
There’s a ruined kasbah near Ait Benhaddou. Old caretaker lives there alone, shows people around, makes tea. Doesn’t ask for money but obviously you tip. An Australian guy once asked me, “What’s his deal? What does he get out of this?” Some people do things because that’s just who they are.
Morocco isn’t perfect. It’s a real country with real problems. Poverty and tourism create hustling. Fake guides and aggressive sellers exist and make my job harder. I’m not defending that.
But if you come expecting everyone to scam you, that’s what you’ll find. If you come open to human connection, you’ll find that too.
The Canadian dad messaged me last week. He’s coming back next year and wants more time in villages. His daughter still talks about the bread-making grandmother. He asked if he could send her a gift. I told him just come back and visit. That’s enough.
I still get excited when someone really connects with this place. When they stop treating it like an Instagram backdrop and start treating it like somewhere real people live.
If you’re planning a Morocco trip: hire a good guide, be respectful, try the tea even if you don’t like mint, and don’t assume everything is a scam. Sometimes tea is just tea.
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