Photographer: Jodi-Ann Burey
Trip Duration: 2 days in city, 7 days in Morocco
Traveler's Statement: Essaouira was the place I was told I had to go. It was blue. It was beachy. I spent a lot of time walking around attempting to read menus in French and Arabic, two languages I didn't know, to order the fresh fish caught off the coast. Between Marrakesh and Fes, Essaouira was the perfect city to recharge, unwind and reflect how incredibly lucky I was to be there. This gallery shows not only what I saw in Essaouira, but the roads I took to get there. Making it to and from Essaouira was a challenging logistical feat for my first international solo trip that I'm glad I tackled. It pushed me WAY out of my comfort zone, which only made me a better navigator and traveler.
Portfolio: jodiannburey.com/portfolio
Instagram: @forcoloredgirlswhotravel
Photographer: Jodi-Ann Burey
Trip Duration: 3 days in city, 7 days in country
Traveler's Statement: I don't know why they were singing to me, but it wasn't something that any travel guide could have warned me about. The moment I exited the train station in Fes, Morocco, several men - as they were disproportionately more about in public spaces in the cities I visited - stopped when they saw me and broke out into song. Which song and why was a mystery soon to be solved.
All the travel guides do warn you, however, not to stop for men in the souks (markets) in Morocco as seemingly innocuous offerings of help led to a direct ask for money for their guiding services. Despite my solo-ness, female-ness, black-ness and most importantly, my New York-ness, I couldn't help but ignore these warnings and chat with strangers anyway. In this particular souk, a young (very attractive) man stopped me with a warm and familiar look in his eyes. "Tracy!", he screamed. What a peculiar greeting! Suddenly, he too broke out into song, "You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere." I got it. It was clear. People have been mistaking me for Tracy Chapman, who I learned had visited Fes' music festival the year prior.
I ended up spending the day with David, the young man who stopped me, conversing, walking through the souks, grabbing street food, and hanging with his shop owner friends. Each time he lost me David yelled and laughed, "Tracy!" to get my attention. David knew that I wasn't Tracy Chapman, but he just couldn't resist the alleged resemblance. I let David call me Tracy as our little inside joke. I just couldn't resist the story.
Portfolio: jodiannburey.com/portfolio
Instagram: @forcoloredgirlswhotravel