Our Story- DIY In Morocco
No real names.
Just the work.
Three locals who decided to stop watching travelers fall into the same traps — and started writing down what they wished someone had told them.
Where we come from
A childhood in three languages.
We grew up where the country switches gears. Berber-language childhood, French school in the morning, English overheard from travelers in the afternoon. We learned Morocco the way you learn an old house — by doing things wrong first, then right, then forgetting the difference.
By the time we were old enough to think about leaving, we’d already seen our country mostly through the eyes of people passing through. And what we saw was that the Morocco people came looking for, and the Morocco we lived in, were almost never the same place.
What we noticed
The same questions, year after year.
The same wrong directions in the medina. The same overpriced grand-taxi to the same airport. The same “Berber pharmacy” tour. The same “authentic” cooking class with packet spices.
We watched people spend weeks of their lives — and serious money — landing in places we wouldn’t send a friend’s friend.
It wasn’t malice. It was the system. Booking sites pay commissions. Guides pay drivers. Drivers pay restaurant owners. Everyone in the chain wins — except the one person the chain is supposedly built around.
“
It wasn’t malice. It was the system.
A late conversation
Three of us. A pot of tea. The third glass already cold.
One night, the three of us at a kitchen table in Fes. We’d been complaining about it for years — about what travelers were missing, about the people who deserved to be found, about how badly the country was being sold.
Somewhere between the second pot and the call to prayer, we stopped complaining and started writing.
We wrote what we’d tell a friend who asked us to plan their trip. Then we wrote what we’d tell a stranger if we had to charge for the trouble. The two were almost the same.
And before we wrote anything else, we chose our names — three roles, drawn from the language we grew up in.
How we work now
Deliberately, not a tour company.
We don’t put our faces online. We don’t take commissions. We don’t sell tickets. We don’t have an office a traveler can walk into.
What we have is the country we grew up in, written down — every kilometre, every contact, every honest cost — and a small fee for the trouble.
You pay us once. We hand you the plan. You go.
“
You pay us once. We hand you the plan. You go.
What we promise
A small list. We mean every line.
- We will never sell you a tour.
- We will never recommend a place we haven’t been.
- We will never take a commission you don’t know about.
- We will never tell you Morocco is something it isn’t.
If we get something wrong, we’ll fix it. If you find something we missed, we’ll add it. If you have a question we didn’t answer, we’ll answer it — once you’re in.
That’s the work. That’s all of it.