After my Latin American adventure, I returned to Europe, where I got a warm reception, as always, from my dear friends Rick and Louis and a cold reception from the weather. The weather was manageable, as I connected with family and friends and planned to go to Southern Africa within the next couple of weeks for more sun, surf and family time. African care and efficiency was not what I hoped and expected it to be however, much to my disappointed and my visa couldn’t be arranged in time, despite having booked five months in advance. As I wanted more surf and didn’t want to waste a ticket or spend winter in Europe, I decided to go to Morocco instead.
El Maghreb, Ya3nie (So, Morocco)
Although Morocco, or el Maghreb in Arabic, wouldn’t be as hot as the southern hemisphere and I wouldn’t be connecting with blood relatives, I would still be visiting Mother Africa and connecting with my surf family. In Rio I met surfer Kareem, a lovely and very talented guy, who owns a surf camp in the village of Tamraght near the more well-known surfer village Taghazout, located just north of Agadir in Morocco. I had my very first surfing experience in the same village about nine years ago. Kareem made me an offer, which was hard to refuse and my Finnish surf sister Leena- say Layna– who I also met in Rio, would be there as well, so off to Morocco I went. It was great meeting Kareem and Leena again and to get to know other surfers and non-surfers at the camp, yet Morocco was a bit of a shock to the system. In Morocco too, the weather did unusual things and in the first week in particular, it was exceptionally cold for the time of year. In general, in northern and western Europe, it’s warm indoors when it’s cold outside. North African houses are not built for the cold, however, so you’re wearing a coat and a million other layers indoors, which is wrong on so many levels. In addition to that, the waters were also colder than usual and I was really suffering. I was cold before I entered the water. My wetsuit was too thin, I didn’t have any boots, wearing two wetsuits made me feel very restricted, I couldn’t get a thicker wetsuit; all in all, I mainly felt uncomfortable in the waters. As a bad carpenter blaming her tools and circumstances, I barely caught any waves and I don’t feel I’ve made any progress, which was quite disappointing, but that is surfing and that is life. Surrender to what is (and isn’t) and all that jazz.
The times they are a-changin’
Tamraght hadn’t changed much. I’m sure more surf camps have opened their doors in the last decade, but the Berber-community-on-a-hill still has an authentic and sleepy village-feel, unlike nearby Taghazout, which is a surfer’s town and completely geared towards riders from abroad. The camp’s instructors took us to nearby beaches, like Banana beach, Camel beach and Desert point and we made an excursion to Imsouane, which is about an hour and half’s drive away towards Essaouira. Imsouane is a small fishers’ village located in a bay and known for the longest rideable waves in Morocco. I had visited the village nine years ago and it had changed considerably. In 2009, you would only find locals on the waves and there wasn’t a tourist infrastructure whatsoever. Now you have camps, hostels and guest houses offering surf and yoga, surf shops, cafes and restaurants. The latter three are mainly housed in shacks and Imsoune still has a very chilled vibe. I hope it stays that way. Nine years ago I was mainly a nuisance to the local boys in the waters and didn’t catch anything at whichever beach. This time I was better informed about surfing etiquette, yet caught very little. I hope it’s a case of third time lucky, as I really like Morocco and I would like to enjoy its famous waves. One thing is certain; I ain’t returning in winter. I’m a wimp; I don’t like cold weather and I like surfing in waters colder than 17 degrees even less. Another splendid excuse to hit tropical waters.
Dark Fairy Adventures 
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