Bohemian Diaries .. Africa, Malawi 🇲🇼 and Morocco, Asilah

Bohemian Diaries .. AfricaMalawi 🇲🇼 and Morocco

Asilah —

I’m hidden away by the sea, surrounded by colourful art, fresh seafood, hummus, black olives and sweet Moroccan pastries.

Asilha - Northern Morocco.

An easy 30-minute train ride from Tangier’s extremely modern, efficient new station.

I’m tucked away.

My own sweet retreat.

The universe is kind.

I switch off social media and carry Jack Kerouac’s 'On the Road' everywhere,

yet somehow don’t read much of it…

I eat eggs and pancakes and practise long, restorative yoga poses.

Later, I smoke a little hashish, sit on the terrace drinking a cold Sprite and watch a woman walk a goat along the beach on a long, tasseled rope.

Behind her: camels, also taking their slow beach walk…..

suddenly I’m back in Malawi.

1995 / 1996.

I’m 19.

I’m travelling with a girl called Leanne. We met in the south, by the lake.

She’d left an overland tour and I wasn’t on one to begin with.

That was rare then—especially for women—so finding her felt like a small miracle.

She told me about a guy.

A driver on one of those overland trucks “Meet me up North,” he’d said.

I never liked those tours. Their little camps. Their closed circles.

I preferred staying with locals, spending my money in local shops, living inside the place. But it sounded like an adventure. And I was heading North anyway. So we went.

It wasn’t easy to reach. when we finally arrived, it was in the middle of nowhere.

Truly nowhere. They gave us a small hut.

There was nothing to do. The beds were hard and the floor rough.

We bought some weed. A long wooden pipe.

And then we lay stretched out on thin mattresses reading, playing chess, waiting…

for the overland truck to arrive.

We ate eggs, rice, bread, peanut butter and fruit.

Simple. Cheap. Repetitive. Perfect.

I had Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in my backpack, we read it aloud to each other, taking turns. We told stories of our lives—Australia and England—how we’d ended up there, together, on that tiny spot with big, expansive Africa all around us.

We laughed so much. Every day we imagined the men who might arrive on that overland truck. At one point—fuelled by imagination and far too much Malawi Gold—we convinced ourselves the New Zealand All Blacks might roll in on some wild overland expedition. We stayed like that for nearly two weeks.

Then finally—a truck arrived. The bar filled. The place came alive.

Yet we couldn’t go. We’d been alone too long. Smoked too much. Felt completely paranoid. And of course—tuns out, her guy wasn’t interested.

Barely remembered her. We left a few days later.

Today, sitting here in Asilah, thinking about all the men who’ve let me down and all the women I’ve sat beside in that same space, I feel something else entirely.

Gratitude.

For the innocence.

For the way we followed love and longing back then.

For the way we believed.

And for all the adventures born from those bitter disappointments.

Photos.2025.

Asilah ..A quiet, artistic edge of Africa. 40 minutes South of Tangier.