Landing in Marrakech, I was confronted by the city's chaos and dynamism. Somehow, it reminded me of Naples, where I was born. A salmon-pink colour saturated its streets and those of the surrounding villages. This is the Red City, a place that borrows the hue of the rusty Atlas Mountains, which I would cross later in my journey.
What struck me most about Marrakech was its contrasts. The Medina thrummed with activity, and yet I found silent gardens tucked away. Bright, bold mosaics were softened by the warm shades of the houses. The red Moroccan flag stood out against the blue sky.
Morocco's landscapes are an extension of its capital's vivid magic. I would go on to visit the blue port city of Essaouira and the burnt-brown Zagora Desert. I felt saturated with curiosity.