The Curious Case of Moroccan Hospitality

Chances are that before traveling to Morocco, you would read in guidebooks or travel blogs that Moroccans are just about the most hospitable people on earth. Some go as far as quantifying Morrocan hospitality by ranking the friendliest countries in the world. In this particular survey by the World Economic Forum, Morocco is ranked third in the world behind Ireland and New Zealand. It is natural that visitors, us included, have high expectations. This must be one of the main reasons Morocco is Africa's most visited country. After our two-week trip, I believe the reality is far more nuanced than it seems.

The juice vendors at Marrakesh’s Jemaa el-Fnaa Square were among the most aggressive and the most entertaining street vendors I have ever met.

Of course, I must prefix this post by noting that my observations are based on my two-week trip to Southern Morocco. While I did visit the rural parts of the country, I spent most of my time in big tourist draws like Marrakesh, Essaouira, and Agadir. I know how a camera-carrying tourist like myself would have a different experience from long-term expats fluent in French or Arabic. For what it is worth, please take my opinion as an overall generalization, and please excuse your bias. Please feel free to leave a comment at the end of this. I would love to hear about your experiences in Morocco.

Mint tea is often served upon arrival at a riad.

Like most foreign tourists, our first interactions with Moroccans are those working in the tourism sector. Everyone, from the airport staff to the riad’s resident manager, was pleasant, warm, and hospitable. For the most part, their demeanor was casual. There is not that formality rigidity you would associate with Japan or India. I could understand why first-time visitors would swoon over the friendlessness of those in the tourism trade. In particular, many would cite the presentation of mint tea and Moroccan sweets at Riads or rug stores as the most visible and immediate symbol of Moroccan hospitality. Tea is an integral part of the social and cultural life of Morocco. It is considered Moroccan etiquette to offer guests, friends, or customers tea.

Mohamed at Hotel Tebi is the most lovely innkeeper we met on this trip.

In the most traditional form, the tea, often mint, would be prepared and poured right before the guests. The gesture is culturally synonymous with an invitation for friendship, and it is considered rude to refuse the tea. Elaborate tea ceremonies are the norm in rural areas or some more traditional (or high-end) settings. However, there is a difference between a common gesture and genuine hospitality. On a practical level, the welcoming tea sometimes feels like just another routine of a check-in process at the hotel or riad for the most part. Except for one hotel, Hotel Tebi in Aït Benhaddou, there was no real conversation with our hosts other than a quick pleasantry. This experience mostly reminds me of Japan: polite but without much warmth.

On our first night in Morocco, we stopped at Jemaa el-Fnaa Square, the largest square in Marrakesh. Being the city's center of gravity, the square was teeming with various activities like storytelling, comedy, and snake charmers. I researched beforehand and knew these performers were part of the place's cultural heritage. With Moroccans outnumbering foreign tourists, I felt excited to enjoy some authentic Moroccan culture. As a New Yorker, I am very familiar with street performers and know there is no such thing as a free performance. Having lived in big cities most of my life, I was keen to observe the scheme to figure out how things work. It seemed like plastic stools were handed to paying spectators. After handing out 50 dirhams to the lady in charge, we had front-row seats among more than two dozen Moroccans of all ages.

A musical troupe of Jemaa el-Fnaa Square in Marrakesh.

Although we did not understand a single word of the performance, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. At one point, the lady in charge invited me to dance with her in front of the crowd. While I generally prefer straying in the background under all circumstances, I felt comfortable and happy enough to join this unique cultural adventure. The whole experience feels convivial and so genuinely positive. Watching all the musicians up close gave us a unique and intimate experience. The lady in charge seemed to like me; I even took some goofy selfies with her. At that very moment, I felt Moroccans' genuine passion and hospitality.

Reluctantly, we had to leave for a dinner reservation in half an hour. Just as we stepped out of the crowd, one of the performers from the troupe chased after me and tapped on my shoulder. He shoved a hat in front of me and demanded 180 dirhams. I was stunned. It took me a few seconds to get my head around it, and I told him firmly: No! Although I may not be an expert on the proper “tip” for attending this performance, at least I have the common sense to know that 170 dirhams are completely out of line. It was not as if there was a sign advertising a per-person fixed price. His aggressive tone surprised me, and it ruined my otherwise fond memory.

If the guy had asked for additional tips politely, I probably would have happily thrown in another 50 dirhams. When I later mentioned this situation to the riad manager, he said locals would not pay more than 20 dirhams per person. In retrospect, our experience was not at all different from the much-loathed “costume actors” at New York’s Time Square. Tipping street performers should be the norm, but it is different when they try to swindle or intimidate you. I guess I had too high of an expectation for the “friendliest people on earth.”

Unfortunately, our experiences with Moroccans did not improve as the trip continued. Even though the souk of Marrakesh is known for persistent shopkeepers, I was still surprised by their aggressive behaviors and would not take no for an answer. Walking through the Medina is hardly a peaceful experience. I have been to countries where haggling is part of the culture (think Thailand or Turkey), but Morocco takes it to another level altogether. While some might describe them as enthusiastic, I suspect most foreign tourists see them as a nuisance and harassment. It was not unusual to have vendors or street hustlers following you around in the hope of a sale or scam. As a foreigner, it is difficult not to feel like a walking wallet in big cities.

Of course, Marrakesh is not necessarily the best representation of the whole country. After all, it is the most touristy city in the kingdom. Even the locals would agree that Marrakesh’s Medina is the country's second most “raucous” place (after the one in Fez). While I agree that Marrakesh is noticeably worse, I personally experienced similar behaviors in smaller towns like Zagora, Taroudant, and Tinghir. This “hustler culture” extends far beyond the traditional souks. Just about everyone I interacted with, from parking lot attendants to prospective tour guides, were eager to squeeze a couple more dirhams out of me by demanding large tips or selling dodgy “local experiences.”

In Morocco, help from the locals often comes with an expectation for tips. If you appeared lost in places like Marrakesh or Essaouira, it wouldn’t take long until an enthusiastic local came forward and asked whether you needed any help getting to where you were going. But unlike many other countries, a small tip is generally expected. This contrasts with places in Asia, where assistance would be provided purely out of hospitality. I have to wonder what hospitality means when monetary exchanges are involved.

My worst experience was in Taroudant, a historic city seldom visited by foreign tourists. Nicknamed the “Little Marrakesh”, Taroudant is often regarded as an authentic version of its famous cousin. After I parked my car near the hotel, a young parking attendant eagerly showed me the way to my hotel. At this point of my trip, I was resigned to the fact that I would rather just tip the guy 10 dirhams rather than waste time trying to refute his “service”. But much to my surprise, the guy refused my tip when we got to the hotel, and he just bid me a good visit to his lovely hometown. For a moment, I felt guilty for assuming the worst of people.

A few hours later, I was out and about the city doing some street photography. Because of Taroudant’s relatively compact center, I soon ran into the guy from earlier on the street. He immediately zoomed in on me and insisted that I visit his family shops. Immediately, I got the sense that he had been waiting for me. Since he had not accepted my tip earlier, I felt obligated to politely refuse his “kind offers.” To make him leave me alone, I had to make up a story about how I was meeting up with a local “Moroccan friend” in a short while. When that did not work, I pretended to get a call on my cell and be on the phone. During this entire time, the guy was “supervising” me as if I were a convict on probation. After five minutes “on the phone,” I could finally evade him through the back alleys of the souk.

You might think I was rude for evading a perfectly “nice guy,” or I am too paranoid. Truth be told, I was just so sick of all the false pretenses of hospitality. Aren’t straightforward hospitalities in Morocco without money changing hands? Call me old-fashioned, but I think the true definition of hospitality is the way people treat one another through genuine human-to-human interactions. After all, Islam holds hospitality as a virtue. The Prophet reportedly said, “There is no good in the one who is not hospitable.” It is deeply rooted in the pre-Islamic Bedouin virtues of welcome and generosity as nomadic people.

Dewel was our trusted driver and guide in the Sahara desert.

Naturally, one popular way to experience Moroccan hospitalities is to spend a few nights in the Sahara desert. It is one of the most popular experiences among tourists. Ethnic Berber predominantly populates southern Morocco, and their culture of hospitality is deeply rooted in their traditional ways of life. When we met the camp driver, Dewel, I noticed that the Berbers take pride in caring for their guests. Having grown up in harsh surroundings, most Berbers have deep respect for their environment and understand how interdependent everyone is to another for survival.

The sunset camel ride is guided by a local Berber staff.

During our two-night stay at a luxury camp, ten Berber men took excellent care of us. The advanced payment made the whole experience less transactional on the surface level. There was no upselling for extra excursions or food and drink upgrades. For the first time since our trip started, we escaped harassment or aggressive sales pitches. We truly felt like we could finally take a breath of relaxation. The experience gave us a glimpse of a bygone era of hospitality. While understanding that gratuity is expected, we genuinely feel like every staff member genuinely cares that we had a good time and all our needs were catered to. Fundamentally, they understand a great overall guest experience is paramount in the hospitality industry. After our departure, I continued to receive WhatsApp messages from Dewel, wishing us a good, great journey and texting some beautiful pictures of the camp.

Speaking of Whatsapp, some of the more unusual (and recurring) episodes on this trip were meeting young Moroccans asking to have their photos taken. As I wrote in a previous post, street photography in Morocco could be a difficult business. Due to cultural and religious traditions, many Moroccans are reticent about having their photograph taken. So it threw me off when two friendly teenagers in Marrakesh stopped me and asked for a picture of him with his friend. Not certain of his true intention, I agreed to his request and sent him the pictures. Following initial pleasantry, the conversations quickly turned into what a difficult life young Moroccans have. Sure enough, it became a plea for monetary assistance. Needless to say, this episode was very emotionally deflating.

I was surprised by how often young Moroccans asked me to take a picture for them.

Over the next ten days, I was approached by half a dozen young people. While some appreciated the pictures and wished me a good journey, nearly half of them were not hesitant about asking for financial assistance on WhatsApp. Although all my physical interactions with Moroccans on this trip were congenial and friendly, It was particularly disappointing when they came from seemingly cosmopolitan young people. I can’t shake off this uneasy feeling that behind all the smiles, you don’t know what people’s true intentions are. It became mentally exhausting quickly.

Among all my interactions with Moroccans on this, the most memorable would be with Meddur in Marrakesh. As I walked from Jardin Majorelle to the center of Gueliz, a fellow pedestrian casually conversed. He is probably in his mid-50s, well-dressed, and spoke good English. This was my second-to-last day in Marrakesh. I immediately assumed he was either a scammer or a vendor in disguise. As we walked together for about fifteen minutes, I was impressed by just how great of a conversationalist he was. Among the subjects that we discussed include photography, colonialism, and Moroccan politics.

Just as we got to the city center, he suggested coffee at a nearby cafe. Immediately, a mental alarm went off in my head. Going to any eating or drinking establishment could be risky. We have all read horror stories about strangers taking innocent tourists to no-menu establishments. Afterward, unsuspected tourists would be presented with an exuberant bill, like €200 for a glass of wine. With that scenario in mind, I was cautious by asking to see a menu and verifying that a cup of espresso is priced fairly at 20 dirhams. We talked for over an hour, which was probably the most substantive conversation I had with a Moroccan.

One topic that we connected on was travel photography. Meddur mentioned that he is an avid photographer. He asked me to follow his photograph Instagram page. He showed me some of his favorite photos, especially those from Essaouira. Since I just came from there a day before, we talked at length about his favorite spots and the particular composition of the shots. Oddly enough, Meddur did not have his phone with him; he said it was inside the locker at the bus station, as he was due to take an overnight bus back to his hometown. Just before I could bid my goodbye to get to the museum before closing time, Meddur broached the subject and asked me whether I could help him buy dinner for tonight.

Honestly, I was not surprised but was nevertheless disappointed. It is only natural for me to speculate whether our nearly 90-minute encounter was all building up to that moment. Was this another way for seemingly friendly Moroccans to extract money from foreigners? Ultimately, I gave him 150 dirhams, which was not a small sum by Moroccan standards. I did not care at that moment because I genuinely enjoyed our conversations. Later that day, I was scrolling through Meddur’s Instagram account. I noticed that the guy in the Instagram feeds looked nothing like Meddur. After more digging, I realized this Instagram feed has nothing to do with Meddur (or whatever his name is). He probably saw that I had a big camera and decided to show me a random photography account to pretend to be his. It was both ingenious and terrifying. It was a melancholic feeling that my favorite moment of hospitality was a sophisticated scam from a professional hustler.

The worst thing about any “hustle culture” is the cynicism that naturally develops inside us. Whenever someone called out to me, I immediately assumed some guy would ask me to come to their shops or ask for something. One day, I quickly stopped at the little town of Tissint. While I was strolling around their medieval mausoleum, a man from a block began to wave at me and gestured for me to come over. I groaned immediately and resorted to my usual tactic of pretending to receive a call on my phone.

Much to my disappointment, the guy was very persistent and began to yell at me urgently. It turned out I was unknowingly trespassing on an Islamic cemetery, and it was inappropriate for me to walk on the graves albeit unknowingly. The guy was merely trying to tell me about my cultural faux pas. I was embarrassed not only for my transgression but also for assuming the worst of people.

One of the nicest guys I met on this trip was Mahfoud, who runs a Berber house museum in Tafraoute, La Kasbah Traditionnelle Tazka. Mahfoud represents a new generation of Moroccans who take safeguarding Moroccan’s cultural heritage seriously. Out of everyone I met on this trip, Mahfoud embodies hospitality the most in conveying his passion for Berber heritage and Tafraoute. As I was the only visitor, he gave me a personal tour of the house and offered to take me to other historic sites around the house. Although he only has four to six guests a day on average, he was very kind in accepting any level of donations. I went away very touched by his hospitality and passion.

Mahfoud took me to visit the ancient stone etching of a gazelle.

Despite my misgivings about Morocco, I must emphasize that most of our interactions with the locals are positive and genuine. Because of the high level of emigration and Morocco’s openness to the outside world, every Moroccan has at least one family member who has lived abroad for a period of time.

The United States and France seem to be the most popular destinations for the Moroccan diaspora. One day, just outside our riad in Marrakesh, a young Moroccan man conversed with me and asked me where I was from. After learning that I live in New York, he was excited to tell me he had lived in Upper Manhattan for years. He then showed me his New York State driver's license and local union card. When I was prepared for a sales pitch, he bid me goodbye and wished me a good time in Morocco.

At the end of the day, my excessive cynicism did not serve me well. Too often, I let unrealistic expectations of a place ruin a trip. If it were not for the label of “the most hospitable people,” I probably would have had a better experience. While I may seem overly critical in this post, Morocco is a wonderful place for travel, and it is not difficult to see why this is the gateway to Africa. While not all our interactions with the locals were positive, I feel like every experience makes us better travelers.

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The Curious Case of Moroccan Hospitality

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