Travelling with Children in Morocco: 5 Things To Know Before You Go

Travelling with Children in MoroccoIt’s exactly four years to the day since my very first excursion to Morocco, which was also my first trek abroad as a mother and my first time travelling beyond the borders of Europe.

Ten trips later, I now have my share of embodied experience about travelling with children in Morocco to convert into well-meaning advice.

For those considering or looking forward to a family holiday in Morocco, I hope the following will help you to prepare in a way that travel sales sites might not – it is not intended to put you off (and I’m not trying to sell you travel insurance either!).

1) That’s Entertainment

Morocco is extremely family-friendly, yet not in the way we’re now conditioned to consider the term ‘family-friendly’ in the UK.

Children revolve around day to day community life there (sometimes even going to work with their mothers rather than being put into childcare), but life does not revolve around children. You will not find restaurants with children’s menus and play areas or themed parks and farms designed with children in mind.

Children are allowed into the domain of adults in a way we’ve divorced them from in our own society, yet the domain of children – which has largely been developed for commercial purposes in places such as the UK and US – is not taken for granted in Morocco.

Generally, most Moroccan people seem accepting of kids being kids. However, I have always been well aware that I’m often the only woman sat in the cafés – ergo, the only person with kids in tow (the gender division is stark here, with women unquestionably being those who stay with the children whilst their menfolk sit in the cafes with their cigarettes and espressos).

Thus, in the cafés, the children have often been expected to sit like mini-adults. The café culture in Morocco can be very appealing, but this obviously comes with the same issues as sitting in restaurants and cafés with kids in the UK.

A rare sight: a children's play area on the beach outside a café in Essaouira.
A rare sight: a children’s play area on the beach outside a café in Essaouira.

Sometimes a street café will be next to a wide pavement or large square where, if you sit outside, the kids can have a bit of a run-around, often mixing in with the local youngsters who may be playing football or gathered at the roadside socialising.

Yet this can’t always be relied upon, and providing entertainment for them becomes a priority. FreeToBeP’s preferences of things to do are suitably compact for our outings – playing games such as Minecraft or Angry Birds on my smartphone, or taking out his pencil case full of random Lego pieces to create with.

You can find lots of lovely souvenirs that make do as affordable objects of interest. A lot of the toys found here are really cheap, plastic tat that are a waste of money and a waste in general. A lot of rubbish here ends up strewn across the streets rather than being dealt with properly (quite apart from any recycling), and I have no desire to add to the mess by adding a pile of broken, plastic toys at the end of my stays.

Thus, it’s really useful to bring a small supply of good quality, inspiring toys such as Lego to keep the kids happy.

Lego Morocco
Lego. Enough said.

You could also set up little games using coins or other ‘somethings’ you might carry in your day bag. During our latest trip to Morocco, FreeToBeZ ended up with a stash of low value money we’d collected – some British coppers, some Moroccan half dirham and one dirham coins, as well as 5 Euro cents we found on the plane. These kept her well amused for a good portion of time and she was very possessive of it (I lost count of the times she wandered our apartment asking “Where’s my money?!” over the ten days we were out there!).

2) Cats & Dogs

Feral Feeders
Street litter.

There are many stray and feral animals in the streets of Morocco, including some very cute kittens. Understandably, the kids love to chase them around and stroke them – yet this is best avoided if you have young children who may not be aware of and understand the associated dangers.

The street cats and dogs in Morocco may well be infected with rabies, with 90% of human cases of the disease in the country caused by dog bites and most of the victims being children. At night, the stray dogs roam the streets in packs and can be quite an intimidating sight for those who are not used to seeing groups of strays congregating together.

Another street litter.
Another street litter.

FreeToBeP suffered a minor cat scratch on our very first trip out there not long before his 3rd birthday. I was unaware of the rabies risk at the time and thinking back to it makes me feel physically sick. The general advice is that you must seek medical attention within 24 hours of exposure to a potentially rabid animal to avoid going down with this (almost always) fatal virus.

Whilst there is a pre-exposure vaccine for rabies which travellers can pay for (it isn’t available on the NHS for a trip to Morocco), this just buys you a bit of time in case you do get bitten or scratched – and in an emergency situation in Morocco you’re unlikely to be over 24 hours away from the nearest clinic or hospital (all of which are apparently well-stocked with the post-exposure rabies antidote).

3) Clean, Cool, Content

Just before my tenth trip to Morocco (yes, this one took me a while to figure out!), I finally came up with a “kill three birds with one stone” solution for bath-time: a small, inflatable paddling pool. (The three birds being cleanliness, temperature control and entertainment.)

Unless you stay in a more expensive hotel (and I have no idea what the facilities are in such places in Morocco), there is unlikely to be a European-style bath to make use of when it comes to bath-time. Yet a proper bath is often the only way by which young children who are used to growing up with ‘bath-time’ can enjoy a wash (at least this is true of my kids, who will scream blue murder under a shower).

The shower or bucket option usually available in Morocco is not a pleasing option to my children (although FreeToBeZ is still small enough that we can make a shallow makeshift bath in the shower basin by blocking up the plughole with something).

FreeToBeZ enjoying her 'bath'
FreeToBeZ enjoying her ‘bath’

I’ve had one bad experience too many with trying to get FreeToBeP (who is extremely sensitive when it comes to water and temperature) to take a wash in the small shower rooms of most Moroccan apartments. Add to this equation ultra-hygiene-conscious FreeToBeB who grew up in a home without running water, without a toilet, without a washroom: he finds it difficult to grasp why a young child doesn’t want to remove the daily, dusty grime under the luxury of a warm shower. I’ve been party to too many heightened emotions about this topic!

Another bonus is that I’ve seen many a Moroccan person casually tip whole buckets of water through their homes to clean the floors. Apart from the slip hazard, the splash zone can be tolerated much more than the same would in my damp-prone home in Britain (if you don’t believe me, read this).

So, next time – a mini paddling pool. Compact enough to easily fit in the luggage, small enough to inflate using just lung power if need be, versatile enough to serve a multitude of purposes.

The kids will get clean. The kids will cool off. The kids will have fun.

4) Risk Assessment

From daring scooter riders to mad dashes across busy roads; from things jutting out of the pavements to numerous potholes and rocky landscapes: there are many hazards in Morocco and it’s not a country known for its adherence to strict health and safety regulations.

Where there would be "No Climbing" signs in the UK, this was a public thoroughfare for exploring below the land bridge near Demnate. Heart in mouth as I took this shot.
Where there would be “No Climbing” signs in the UK, this was a public thoroughfare for exploring below the land bridge near Demnate. Heart in mouth as I took this shot.

While I think we’ve gone too far with some health and safety rules in the UK (no coffee break at toddler groups? Why else do some new mums even go along to toddler groups but for the joy of someone else making them a mug of steaming brew?!), there is definitely a happy medium to be had. Morocco actually makes me grateful for many of our regulations in the UK.

Driving through Morocco is a risky business and my preference is to hire a car that we can check over and drive ourselves rather than trust an unknown, over-confident taxi or bus driver. The state of many of the public transport vehicles themselves does not inspire confidence. Between myself and FreeToBeB, we are both cautious drivers who can generally relax as passengers to one another.

I’ve had trouble finding suitable child safety seats for FreeToBeZ and some laughable moments with the car hire companies. Children’s car seats are generally not used in Morocco (this is a place where you see entire families riding, helmet-less, on a single scooter!). The hire companies have tried to pass me off with some really dodgy, aging contraptions with broken straps and even entire base units missing that have left me feeling like my own grip would be more trustworthy in an accident.

If you’re planning to embark on some road tripping around Morocco and have the option and ability to take your own car seat along with you, it may save a lot of stress and worry to do so. The last time I checked, Easyjet had a policy of allowing up to two bulky infant items (per each child under 2) in the hold for free.

For older children, you could try the Bumblebum inflatable booster seat.

On some occasions we’ve done without – and on others my mother’s intuition (or plain old fear?) has led me to cancel trips rather than travel somewhere without suitable child safety seats.

FreeToBeZ with her Moroccan car restraint - her dad.
FreeToBeZ with her Moroccan car restraint – her dad.

5) Comfort Zones

If you have a child who is particularly sensitive about their personal space and being touched, you may want to forewarn them about how damn affectionate Moroccan people can be.

There seems to be an unspoken rule that everyone who wishes to comment on your child’s beauty has to do so with at least a ruffle of their hair – and even an unsolicited kiss for a baby. (I suppose a baby doesn’t consciously solicit any kisses, yet our own cultural rule seems to be ‘family only’ for such gestures of love – even friends don’t tend to shower one another’s babies in kisses, let alone strangers in the street!)

I’ve also had people plant kisses on FreeToBeZ’s head as she breastfeeds – after my initial shock, I was glad at the acceptance that she was ‘just’ feeding (compared to the sometimes enforced privacy many women in the UK contend with), but not every breastfeeding mother would be comfortable with this close proximity to her bosom.

There are cultural differences in both bodily autonomy and accepted social mores. Affectionate advances from anyone other than close family members can be confusing and difficult for some children to deal with, especially if they’ve had the ‘stranger danger’ mantra drilled into them back home.

Quite apart from different social etiquette, after one random stranger too many had kissed and pawed FreeToBeZ as a young baby, I began grimacing at the thought of infectious diseases (and I’m not one to worry unnecessarily about such things).

As with the issue of health and safety, I think there’s a balance to be had between the stiff upper lip associated with British folk and the (over?)familiarity displayed by the people of Morocco – between the reserve of suspicion and the open-hearted trust (although I know which one feels best!).

You certainly can’t complain of a lack of warmth in Morocco, and that’s not just the climate.


So, there you have it – forewarned is forearmed!

The good thing is that these 5 things are just 5 and I have already documented many more positives about exploring Morocco.

There are other things to be aware of if you choose to stay in a rural location with your children but I shall hang fire on these for another time.

There are also numerous cultural differences which may seem as irking/worrisome as some of the above to many people, yet many of these are dealt with in some depth in standard travel guides (e.g. this is not the post for learning about how to deal with persistent street vendors!).

Have you visited Morocco with your children? Would you add anything to the above that the travel guides don’t always tell you about? Tell me what you loved too!

Want to read more family travel tips? Read my other articles:

10 Mind-Altering Family Travel Tips

The Quiet Zone: Tranquil Travel with a High-Spirited Child

Paltry Packing (Part 1): 10 Tips for Travelling Lightly 

 

Closer to Home: A Delightful Day in Dorset

In my desire to blog about what may be classed as more exotic family travel experiences, it’s too easy to lose sight of the fact that we live in an amazing part of the UK that is a tourist hotspot in itself.

Indeed, in the days since returning from our latest visit to Morocco, I’ve attended more events and indulged in more pastimes that could be compiled on a ‘Things to do in . . .’ list than I managed in Marrakech (my last post about Embracing the Ennui in Morocco no doubt drew attention to the fact that I wasn’t particularly adventurous and explorative on that particular trip).

Whilst Dorset may be ‘home’ to me, I shouldn’t take it for granted – there are potentially many local places and issues I could be writing about that would benefit other families on their travels for whom Dorset is actually a destination.

I’ve also started remembering to get the camera out at times other than trips to new locations. Hence, I hereby present yesterday’s full day of summer holiday activities:

FreeToBeP and FreeToBeZ with the Lego megalosaur mosaic at Dorset County Museum.
FreeToBeP and FreeToBeZ with the Lego megalosaur mosaic at Dorset County Museum.

In the morning we attended a children’s event at Dorset County Museum. This was a paid event (including a Lego gift – the design wasn’t genuine Lego, but the bricks themselves were), yet the museum often runs free sessions for kids during school holidays.

All we knew was that we’d be building a giant Lego dinosaur. As it happens, the ‘build’ was a mosaic – I’d been wondering how they were planning to get numerous kids to construct a single 3D creation! Each child had to help piece together the tiles that would eventually form the image using Lego bases of 16×16 studs and print outs of what each brick on that tile should be. The list of required bricks were coded (e.g. LGY – 15 equalled 15 light grey bricks) and for each new tile they came to do, the children had to go and find the required amounts from the coded boxes. They picked up the appropriately numbered base to match the number on their instructions, thus keeping track of where each tile should be placed on the huge mosaic base.

It didn’t occur to me at the time to take note of the total number of tiles, but it was made up of around 154 tiles (guessing that it measured about 14 by 11 bases).

FreeToBeP really enjoyed the event, but FreeToBeZ – tagging along as a little sister rather than a true participant – quickly became frustrated that she couldn’t just play with the Lego and protested loudly when we had to prise one of the final bases from her grip. It certainly wasn’t quite the ‘free for all’ experience that is encouraged in the brick pits at Legoland itself, but they had accurately advertised it as being suitable for ages 5+.

However, all in all, it was a fun event and it has definitely given me more ideas of different ways for us to make use of the vast amount of Lego that is in FreeToBeP’s possession.

Following on from this, it was carnival day in Weymouth.

Weymouth beach on Carnival day - we managed to find ourselves a relatively 'quiet' spot!
Weymouth beach on Carnival day – we managed to find ourselves a relatively ‘quiet’ spot!

I actually genuinely enjoyed our walk along the crowded seafront. Yes, it was exceptionally busy and therefore slow-going, but compared to the crush of people I’d been forced to walk up against in the crowds of Marrakech, I could actually breath and pretty much retain my personal space – or at least more personal space than the comparative experience!

It took us over an hour to wander from one end of the Esplanade to the spot on the beach we decided to head for. Usually, wandering past stalls full of cuddly toys and noisy, overpriced fairground rides would be enough to make me boycott Weymouth seafront on carnival day, yet it didn’t bother me at all this time.

FreeToBeZ was so in awe of everything that I was able to live through her eyes – as she gawped at the rows of stalls and insisted that she’d be going on the white-knuckle, adult-only fairground rides (giggling at the screeching people up in the air and announcing “Me go on later?!”), I found myself smiling at the things I’d usually be cynical about.

All the lights and colour brought back to me something I’ve just written about Morocco. I’d complained about how grey and drab British towns seem, and yet yesterday Weymouth (a town I usually consider to have more colour than most anyway) was vibrant and brimming with positive energy.

Our aim was to get to the community radio station’s stage in order to enjoy the live music with friends. As it happens, we found no familiar faces by the time we eventually got down there and the music just became a happy background noise to the job of supervising two kids on the beach. The sun had decided to come out to bless us for the latter half of the afternoon and everyone was in good spirits, FreeToBeP and FreeToBeZ content with that desirable holiday trio of sun, sand and sea.

Weymouth beach fun
Sun, sand, sea and cheerful children.

We’d decided on a mutually desired itinerary for the remainder of the day, and sat counting down the minutes until the Red Arrows’ display.

I’m not usually one for endorsing the glorification of military organisations, yet I must admit to having a soft spot for the RAF’s Acrobatic Team. A combination of nostalgia about my own childhood, plus the fact that they are actually bloody good, meant that I was genuinely as excited as my children at the prospect of seeing a display. You’d have to be blind to deny the skill and precision of those pilots, and there’s something quite touching about smoke trails shaped as hearts in the sky (yet as I type this, the environmentalist in me is balking!).

Weymouth Carnival, Red Arrows
Watching the Red Arrows over Weymouth Bay.

FreeToBeZ was particularly impressed by their presence. She has a ‘thing’ for planes at the moment following our own flight earlier this month, and greeted their arrival with a little dance. She voluntarily clapped in appreciation throughout the show.

“Me want go in that plane!” she exclaimed earnestly, as they performed one of their famous opposition passes. As nervous as it might make me – both now (on the climbing frame) and in the future (as a stunt pilot?!) – I do hope FreeToBeZ loses none of her braveness and boldness as she grows; for a fearless nature bodes well for a life lived fully when channelled into positive occupations.

Following this, we made a leisurely trip back along the seafront, stopping occasionally to satisfy the kids’ interest in the various stalls. I must have learnt something from my time spent relaxing in Morocco, for – once again – things I’d usually rush them past with excuses about whether we truly ‘need’ things, I instead looked upon in a more gentle, accepting light.

We got tickets for a tombola that FreeToBeP was determined to win on and – lo and behold – he most certainly got exactly what he wanted. FreeToBeZ didn’t have the same luck, yet her big brother was aware of the injustice of this and insisted he must purchase a floral headdress for her. With my money, of course. He confidently approached the headdress seller and told him he was buying it for his little sister, a gift she graciously accepted as the trader perched it on her head.

Many people enjoy watching the evening’s carnival procession – indeed, for some, this is the pinnacle of the event – yet we were all hungry and decided to go for dinner. We would return to the seafront after dark in order to watch the firework display.

Generally, I’m not a big fan of fireworks, but I do enjoy the odd organised display and I had high expectations of this one. The last time I watched a display on Weymouth seafront I’d had an extremely transcendental experience, being totally drawn into the way the light and patterns of some of the professional fireworks played the sky, seemingly falling towards the audience with an invite into the vortex to . . . somewhere!

“Do you remember the last time we watched the fireworks?” I said to FreeToBeP, “Some of them were like portals into outer space – like we were travelling through the stars!”

“Oh yeah!” he replied in agreement.

“I felt like I’d left the beach and was somewhere else.” I told him, wistfully.

“Yeah. It was like we went up into space, past all the stars!”

I don’t know how much was the power of suggestion, but I think he remembered. Yet I doubt he placed such significance on it. Young children are often living in states of transcendence through their power to live in the present, yet such peak experiences do not tend to happen as frequently in adult life.

The display this carnival night was also a good one, if not spiritually significant (I do feel I put high hopes on such simple things sometimes!). We sat in a cosy row a few metres from the calm sea, wrapped up against the somewhat autumnal chill and rapt with the light and colour and sparkles of the show.

FreeToBeZ didn’t want to leave the beach. Conversely, FreeToBeP was looking forward to going to bed (result!) with the cuddly toy he’d won.

It felt satisfying and soulful to truly appreciate our locality. No, there’s not a carnival every day but there’s always the sea and sand.

Today FreeToBeZ packed her little backpack, put on her shoes, unlocked the door to the outside world and told me she was going down to the beach to watch more planes.

“But we’re not going down to the beach now.” I told her, apologetically.

“Yeah, me like beach, me go myself! Mummy home, me go myself – ok?!” she informed me precociously.

I think it’s safe to say we all had fun.