On booking my flight to Marrakech there was one thing I was certain of, I was going to have a hammam massage. Having never had a proper massage before and knowing I was going to need to get at least semi naked there was only one other holiday goer eager to join me, my best friend Teen.

After spending a long day touring the souks we decided to take the plunge. Having moved riads half way through the holiday we headed back to our original riad within which the hammam spa was located. Our lovely female masseuse got the steam going and told us we could just go topless if that would make us more comfortable. A perfect compromise, or so we thought. After chilling in the steam for some 15 minutes and having our hair washed with henna, we took it in turns to lie face down for the scrub to commence. It started well, using a wet glove with a texture similar to sandpaper and an array of herbal concoctions I was scrubbed from head to lower back, being shown every few minutes the dead skin that was being erased from my body. Upon reaching my lower back the masseuse whipped off my bikini bottoms and began to scrub in places I dare not speak of. Turning me onto my back she continued with the same vigour, travelling from head to toe making sure every part of my body was clean. That’s right, EVERY part of my body, whilst Teen sat at my feet, staring straight ahead, quietly chuckling to herself, as I had done to her.

After both going through this slightly traumatic yet strangely enjoyable experience Teen and I stood in the steam, naked as the day we were born to be jet washed down with freezing cold water.

We said our thank you's, left a generous tip (she had of course seen things I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy) and left passing awkward looks across to each other, unable to deny how gloriously soft our skin felt. Walking back to the second riad through a sea of Moroccan men, clutching our underwear in our hands wasn’t the most comfortable of moments, however making everyone feel my skin when I got back certainly was!

SURVIVAL TIP:
Go all out. Thinking back if Teen and I had got naked from the very start, the hammam experience probably wouldn’t have seemed so weird. However the comedy element was certainly worthwhile!

This is no easy feat. Trust me. After hearing from friends, and having visited Tunisia with my family many years ago I had prepared myself for the imminent culture shock that Morocco was about to bestow. At the same time I was cocksure in the belief that my bright and breezy yet firm responses would take me far.

In hindsight eight eager beavers descending on the medina within hours of landing was probably asking for it; but as the mosques sang and the sun set over the desert was there really any other option?

The plan was to wander round the stalls, look at everything but not touch, keep an eye on our pockets and enjoy the madness! It started well. After completing almost half a circuit we were tiring somewhat of the excessive ‘come and eat at our stall’ deal but it was what we had expected. Having my limbs torn apart in a giant crowd, less expected.

My friend and I were walking a little ahead of the rest of the pack, arm in arm, putting the world to rights. We had taken to shaking our heads and smiling at those who propositioned us to eat, keeping a steady pace. Until two stall owners came at us from both angles. ‘Come here, come here, I give you good price…No come here, best food you’ve ever tasted, better than Asda’.

We continued to walk but No! They blocked us off, took an arm each and began pulling us apart. Before long my friend and I were circling each other, surrounded by enough of a crowd for me not to know which way was up. I heard our friends voices shouting what the hell was going on, was that Emily and Spora in there? Meanwhile I flit nervously between hysterical laughter and threatening to punch whoever didn’t let go of me in the nether-regions. I found Spora’s hand in the rabble and pulled her with me as I ran for dear life, screaming at the top of my lungs. As we darted to get away we heard voices,  ‘Just sit down, just eat here!’ my friends called.

I was NOT going to give my hard saved holiday cash to either of these men, however soon saw that the spread looked pretty good and I really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the hassle all over again. As we sat down a thunderous round of applause could be heard from all who had seen the commotion occur.

Dammit they’d done it! As I sat down and realised everybody had scrambled, the owner came over with a massive grin on his face inviting me for an embrace, trying to communicate in broken English how funny my face had looked. My heart pounding I put my hand to my chest and laughed with him, ‘Don’t do that to people! I thought I was going to die!’…Yeh it was hilarious.

We continued to eat plates and plates (and plates) of fried aubergine, kebabs, chips, bread, hummus, prawns and calamari. Yeah we had prawns and calamari. We literally had balls of steel. We proceeded to take them up on the invitation for the best photo op. ever! Didn’t expect for everybody else to take a photo or for every passing moroccan to expect to have a picture too. Neither did I jump for joy at being allowed to smoke all over the deep fat fryers after eating my weight in refried seafood. The final bill was to everybody’s liking; in my mind it was about £2 for everything...It wasn’t, but it was definitely a total bargain.

You’ve gotta give it to the Moroccans. Yeah they can be intensely annoying but their sick, twisted sense of humour gets a thumbs up from me. Making two young girls think they’re about to die, then ply them with friend food and laugh in their faces like it was the best prank you’ve ever pulled? Good work my friend. Furthermore get them lads on the real hustle. They practically ripped my arms from my body and I still ate at their restaurant. Sneaky little…

SURVIVAL TIP
Don’t take it too seriously. Obviously never stay in a situation where you feel uncomfortable, however Moroccans are generally warm and welcoming by nature. It’s just their culture. They’re playing with you, so play right back! They’ll appreciate it and you’ll reap the rewards.

Whilst in Morocco my dear friend Anne celebrated her birthday. Perusing Vogue whilst back in the UK she had seen a review of a fantastic (albeit expensive - come on kids, it is Vogue) Desert Oasis called La Pause wherein you could play desert golf, ride camels and have mint tea brought to you in your monad tent. We were sold.

After arranging a minibus we headed off from the Riad in sight of a luxurious day. Several of the group had been weary about attending due to the added costs we were sure to be met with on arrival, however due to the birthday ties everybody decided to get involved. Thank God!

Driving through the desert, away from the hustle and bustle of the city we were soon hurtling across a vast empty desert. Out in the arid abyss there was nothing to be seen, no matter how hard we tried to spot it on the horizon. After passing our fourth or fifth abandoned fortress we mounted a sand dune and got our first glimpse of the oasis. A small trickling stream ran through the baron desert with lush gardens either side and up on top of a sand dune on the other side of the valley sat our very own nomad tent. Leaving our driver out in the desert (the guilt soon wore off) we were met by a lovely gentleman in a cream kaftan with chocolate brown trimming. As he led the group up the dunes, a couple of us stayed back to drop off the secret birthday cake we’d hidden on our journey there.

Anne and Chad chose to partake in a spot of desert golf, a brilliantly humorous affair wherein one caddy followed them round the ‘course’ and lay a small square of carpet on the sand for them to put from, while the other ran into the distance for them to aim at! The rest of the group took a stroll through the orchards and stroked the camels that had been arranged to come and say hello to us until we all met back up for mint tea, birthday cake and shisha. On return from golf Anne and Chad relayed stories of the fabulous people who had flown in from various places across the globe, however for today, the camp was our own.

As the sun set over the desert and the candles were lit in the valley ready for our evening meal I felt a sense of calm and serenity that I cannot explain. It had been such a surreal day, most of which had been spent with little conversation other than the general consensus of how amazing our lives were and how we all wanted to some day get married in the desert.

The wind picked up and we were taken back down to the valley to another tent for dinner. Over another shisha, olives, nuts and wine we discussed our friendship. The holiday group had been an odd selection of friends, some who had never met before but who had over a few days become a tight nit group who all wanted to be in the same place at the same time. The calm and beauty of the desert cemented this bond. After a three course candle lit meal including the most tender lamp and apricot tagine I have ever eaten, Chad called us out of the tent for a spot of stargazing. 

‘Come and look at Jupiter guys.’

OH. MY. GOD! Are you kidding me? Morocco is giving me Jupiter right now?! SOB!

SURVIVAL TIP
Sometimes you’ve just got to splash out. In this instance it was my friends birthday so we all had to take part. Under any other circumstances this might have been something I’d have passed up due to the price, yet this experience wasn’t just a favourite of the holiday, but a good top 5 in the best life moments ever list. I have never appreciated a group of people more, and I will remember that feeling, and those people for the rest of my life.