How Morocco Turned Into the Hunger Games: Siobhan’s 30th Birthday Trip We Will NEVER Forget

When your close friend says “Come celebrate my 30th birthday in Morocco!” you immediately say yes, because you’re a good friend…and also because you envision lounging by a pool, sipping something cute, and taking Instagram-worthy pics. Plot twist: The Universe said “Oh you thought?”

The Arrival — So Far, So Good

The plan was simple enough: Siobhan (the birthday girl) flying in from Accra. Reign flying in from New York. Me, flying from London but for some reason… landing in Marrakesh instead of Casablanca. (My brain was clearly on “vibes only.”)

Anyway, after a little solo train adventure, I met the girls and we kicked off the trip: good food, chill times, and just a sprinkle of ✨unhinged✨ travel energy.

Important Character Details:

Siobhan is a Type A, itinerary-is-life, cultural-experiences-or-die kind of girl. Reign and I are more “sleep till noon, lounge by the pool, take cute pics and call it a day” energy. But it was Siobhan’s Big 3-0, so the culture immersion was non-negotiable. Sis even had a full Excel spreadsheet itinerary. With tabs. (If your friend doesn’t treat trip planning like a Fortune 500 project, are they even your friend?)

Cultural Immersion — Sweat, Souks, and Sushi

We headed to Marrakesh, checked into a drop-dead gorgeous riad (think Pinterest but real life), and dove into our cultural checklist: Wandered through the chaotic souks. (10/10 sensory overload.) Got hammams where strangers scrubbed us like they were preparing Thanksgiving turkeys. (Started traumatic, ended spiritual.)

On the night of Siobhan’s actual birthday, we dressed up, hit Nobu Marrakesh, and devoured sushi that was so good, I don’t think I have had better sushi in my entire existence. Life was good. We thought the chaos was behind us. The universe: LOL.

We were chilling back at the riad, scrolling through the trip photos, laughing about our hammam trauma, when suddenly…The entire building started shaking. Violently. At first, we just stared at each other like: Is this the Riad Poltergeist??Then, true realization hit: IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE.

For the first 5 seconds we were frozen, because apparently none of us had unlocked our “fight or flight” instincts. Eventually, we scrambled downstairs into what can only be described as a dusty, chaotic real-life scene of The Hunger Games. Now imagine: Siobhan, the only one who knows directions, is blind as a bat because she didn’t have her glasses on. Reign and I, human GPS disasters even on normal days, arguing about which alleyway was “less deadly.”Me, the only one with a phone, shaking so much I could barely type into Google Maps. At one point, I fully shut down and started ugly crying in the middle of the street. Cue the dramatic music. Siobhan literally grabbed my hand like a superhero and yelled: “Del, we have to keep moving. WE CAN’T STOP.” (In that moment she was Liam Neeson. I was a damsel in distress.) Somehow — through panic, tears, and pure stubbornness — we found an open plaza where everyone was camped out under the stars, waiting for the aftershocks. (I was just grateful I didn’t have to explain to my ancestors how I died in a riad trying to be cute.)

Escape from Marrakesh

After a long night under the stars, with maybe 2% battery and 0% dignity left, we pulled it together: Hustled back to the riad at sunrise. Threw all our stuff into our suitcases in under five minutes. Grabbed our passports and ran like the building was auditioning for Final Destination 7. Siobhan and Reign drove me to the airport, then headed back to Casablanca for their flights. I have NEVER been so happy to see the sad little London rain clouds in my life.

Slept like garbage for three nights — any small creak had me ready to evacuate my flat. Had a minor existential crisis. Now laugh (mostly) about the entire trip.

Moral of the Story:

Next time one of my friends wants to turn 30 with a destination trip, I’m suggesting brunch. In my city. At a ground-level restaurant. Because if the ground is going to shake, I want to be holding a mimosa.