How I Quit My Old Life and Moved to Morocco
I always knew that living in Southern Ontario, Toronto specifically, was not my end game. I knew when I was a teenager going to school, and I knew as a young adult, poking around in the world, trying to find a place. I knew that my birthplace was simply a point on the map and not my final destination. And that makes me different from a whole bunch of people.
I also knew that I didn’t light up when I saw mom’s with their kids. I felt a heavy weight around my heart when I would spy a woman hauling a household worth of stuff around, with a kid dangling from somewhere, usually with a look of complete exasperation. (Oh, sorry, I mean, “when I saw a woman lovingly raising her children to be their best selves.)
And I knew that my path was not in having a soul sucking job on a high floor in a concrete building, that took an hour in bumper to bumper traffic to reach. I knew that being called into a room to show my enthusiasm for some new program, or to listen to a male figure pontificate on his “vision” was not lighting me up from the inside.
So I searched. I volunteered at places. For years. I met people. I learned things. I moved on. I took classes, I travelled. I took more classes. I did more volunteering.
And I listened to my heart. I listened to my head and my stomach. I listened to my cells. And I heard a few rumblings here and there. But I didn’t hear the bell go off.
Then I went to Morocco. I didn’t even have it on my list of places to visit. It was someone else’s idea. Someone else’s dream trip. I had to Google it to see what I had signed up for. Because when she asked, “Do you want to travel to…” I said “YES”, before the sentence was complete.
A promise I made to myself early on was to always say yes to travel unless there was a REALLY compelling reason to say no. Always say yes.
Morocco, The Land of Transformation
I will not claim to be the first person who went to Morocco and came back a different person. The place is magic. It changes you, on a cellular level. I know a lot of people who have folded time in Morocco into their lives on some level. Myself, I moved there.
I had been in Morocco for 6 days on our first trip, when the bells started going off. It was so loud inside my head I giggled. It wasn’t even a conscious thought process, so much as “Ok, I get it, this is the place.” Every fibre of my soul was shouting at me. “Make this happen.”
I returned home at the end of October, 2015. I sat in my house, with a my loving pup on my lap, (despite her being too large to sit there). I put all my cards down on the table. My house. My dog. My car. My bank account. My income. What would I lose? What would I gain? Where is my safety net? My mind reeled with options and possibilities and I got really creative.
Clearing Space
I started with the stuff. I started in the basement and I worked up to the top. There were 3 piles for every single thing in my house.
- What can I live without? It would be sold, donated, or thrown out
- What do I have to keep long term? It would go into storage
- What do I need to take with me? This pile would end up being 77 kg of my best stuff. All the airline would allow in one trip.
Safety Net
I’m adventurous but I’m not crazy. I am also a homebody so I know that I am not comfortable being outside in the world with no where of my own to land if I need it. I’m not the type to show up on a friends doorstep and piece things back together on the fly. I know this about myself. Too precious maybe or just too independent.
Either way, I worked out a deal with a friend who had an empty basement apartment not far from a college in my home town. I would furnish basement in favour of two months free rent over the summer. Done. Safety net in place.
I also made sure that I had enough from the proceeds of my house sale, and my car sale (fairly new Audi Q5) that I would have some money to live on in the short term while I got things going. I knew I could cover my costs and live safely in the near term.
Heartbreak is Inevitable
The hardest part was parting with my one great love, Daisy. I looked long and hard and listened very closely to my gut and I found a new family for my love. She is still happy and thriving and in touch on a regular basis even now, 4 years later.
Making Way
Once the plans were in place, the stuff was packed up and the goodbyes were said, I flew to Marrakech on Jan 12, 2016. Three months after I first met her, I was back in Mama Africa’s arms.
Now, 4 years on, I am happily working and living in Marrakech. I am co-owner of a thriving tour company and meeting new people and making new friends all the time. I travel to Europe, set my own schedule, work when and where I want and continue to say a hearty YES to pretty much any opportunity that comes my way.
Because if you don’t try, you’ll never know.
