Four Weeks Across Spain, Mallorca, and Morocco
Four Weeks Across Spain, Mallorca, and Morocco
We spent a month on the move—across islands, mountains, and desert cities. Eight flights, trains, rental cars, and unfamiliar roads stitched together a route through Southern Spain, Mallorca, and Morocco. What emerged wasn’t just a trip but a series of moments that reshaped how we experience the world as a family.
Mallorca: Salt Air and Slow Mornings
We began in Cala Llombards, a quiet corner of Mallorca defined by limestone cliffs, clear water, and simple pleasures. No resorts. No agenda. Just daily swims, beachside picnics, and the rhythm of slow travel.
One of the highlights: sailing along the north end of the island, watching the coastline unfold in dramatic, jagged layers. The boat gave us a different view of the island—untouched coves, wind-carved stone, and the freedom of open water. For a week, time stretched in the best way.
Southern Spain: History You Can Feel
From Mallorca, we flew into Sevilla, where the scent of orange blossoms lingered in the air and flamenco drifted from quiet courtyards. The city feels like a mosaic—Moorish archways, Gothic cathedrals, tiled fountains, and winding alleys that beg to be explored.
We wandered through the Alcázar, its architecture a living record of the city’s layered past, and crossed bridges into Triana for ceramics and local tapas. Sevilla felt alive in every sense—textured, vivid, soulful.
Granada brought a quieter kind of wonder. The Alhambra is one of those rare places where history humbles you. In its carvings, courtyards, and gardens, you feel the gravity of centuries. The white villages of Andalusia—like Arcos de la Frontera—offered a change of pace: hilltop serenity, whitewashed homes, and long afternoon walks beneath the sun.
Morocco: Echoes of the Past, Energy of the Present
Fes was a long-awaited stop—one I had imagined for years. Having spent time in Aleppo, Syria and Sanaa, Yemen, I was drawn to the enduring spirit of Arab cities with deep historical roots. Fes completed that map for me.
Wandering the medina felt like stepping into a city both ancient and intact. The maze-like streets, centuries-old madrasas, and sound of artisans at work spoke of a living tradition. Fes doesn’t cater to the outsider; it invites you to adapt, to observe, to learn.
Essaouira was a beautiful contrast. Breezy, bright, and easygoing. We stayed at Le Jardin des Douars, tucked into the hills just outside town. There, we learned to cook traditional Moroccan dishes, rode camels beneath a wide sky, and ended each day on a rooftop terrace as the light faded over olive groves and terracotta rooftops.
What Remains
This trip wasn’t about rushing from place to place. It was about being in each one fully—slowing down long enough to notice the details, the patterns, the way people live. Traveling together gave us not just new sights, but new shared memories—ones we’ll carry for years.
We returned with more than photos. We came home with a deeper appreciation for stillness, for difference, for beauty in all its forms. And with a quiet reminder that the best way to understand the world is to walk through it, together.
