The bus station, like most round the world, was situated in a derelict part of town. I arrived before it opened and found the main entry blocked by multiple piles of yellow vomit, one being consumed by a feral tabby. When an employee arrived, she aptly hosed things down then waved me inside. When she confirmed that I was traveling to Marrakech (I wasn’t), we … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Waiting for the Bus