Rachel Jones wakes before sunrise—not out of discipline, but because the light in Marrakech at 6:15 AM is the only honest thing in the medina. She slips out of her riad’s courtyard before the call to prayer finishes echoing, carrying only a leather journal and a glass of mint tea. This morning ritual, she tells me later over tagine, is non-negotiable. “The first hour belongs to no one else,” she says, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “That’s when I decide who I want to be for the rest of the day.”
Rachel Jones writes the blog Hippie in Heels, a name that perfectly captures her blend of free‑spirited wanderlust and practical elegance. Her readers are women who want to explore the world solo without sacrificing comfort or style. They don’t want to rough it for weeks on end—they want the raw beauty of a desert camp and a clean bathroom, the spontaneity of a street market and a reservation at a boutique hammam. Rachel’s day is a masterclass in balancing both.
The Golden Hour Routine
Back in the riad by 7:30, Rachel moves through a brief but deliberate wellness sequence. She doesn’t do yoga in the courtyard—she prefers to walk the narrow alleys, greeting shopkeepers and stopping to smell the khobz bread baking. “Movement should feel like exploration, not obligation,” she explains. Her skincare is minimalist: a clay mask from a local souk, argan oil, and the same sunscreen she’s used for five years. She packs a refillable bottle for her face mist, a habit she learned from a Berber woman in the Atlas Mountains.
Packing for a Day of Discovery
Rachel’s day bag is a study in intentionality. She never carries more than she can comfortably walk with for six hours. Inside her woven tote:
- A silk scarf that doubles as a shawl, picnic blanket, or makeshift bag.
- Two printed maps (she trusts paper over roaming data).
- A small notebook and a pen that doesn’t leak in heat.
- A portable water filter bottle—saves money and plastic.
- One piece of fruit and a bar of dark chocolate for energy.
“What you carry shapes what you see,” she says. “If your bag feels heavy, you’ll skip the alley that looks too far, miss the bakery that has no sign.” For her, solo travel is less about the destination and more about the quality of attention you bring to each moment. This philosophy echoes a sentiment she often quotes from our earlier post, Why Ignoring Everyone Else Is the First Step to a Real Solo Journey—that external noise fades when you trust your own feet.
Midday: The Art of Getting Lost
By 10 AM Rachel has already visited three points of interest: a tanner’s workshop (she stayed exactly twelve minutes, long enough to understand but not to become numb to the smell), a spice stall where she let the vendor choose her purchase, and a small museum dedicated to calligraphy. She never overplans. “I have a loose theme for each day—textiles, food, water—and I let the city guide me from there.”
Lunch is at a table shared with a French ceramicist and a Moroccan student who practices English. Rachel doesn’t eat alone unless she chooses to; she finds that a single woman with a curious smile will always be invited to join. She orders rfissa—a chicken and lentil dish that reminds her of the slow cooking she learned from her grandmother in Louisiana. Food, for her, is not fuel but a diary entry.
After eating, she pauses for fifteen minutes to write field notes. This is her only scheduled moment of reflection until evening. She records sensory details: the texture of the woven palm roof, the clink of tea glasses, the way the light falls on tile. These notes become the backbone of her blog posts and, she says, the only souvenirs that matter.
Afternoon Deep Dive: Craft and Community
Rachel reserves afternoons for hands-on experiences. On this particular day, she arranged a private weaving workshop with a co‑operative of women in the outskirts of Marrakech. She spent three hours at a loom, learning to dye wool with saffron and indigo. The workshop cost 200 dirhams (about $20), plus a small tip to the teacher. “Always ask if you can pay the artisan directly,” she advises. “It ensures the money stays in the community.”
She believes that solo travel is most transformative when you create something rather than just consume sights. The rugs she buys are not just decor—they are memory maps. Back in her riad, she lays out the woven strip she made that afternoon, still smelling of dye. “This is my real Morocco,” she says quietly. “Not the photos, not the stamps. This.”
Evening Wind‑Down: Solo Dinner and a Bath
As dusk softens the city’s edges, Rachel returns to her riad for a shower before dinner. She doesn’t dine at the riad’s restaurant; she walks twenty minutes to a family‑run darija spot recommended by the weavers. The host seats her on a low cushion near the kitchen, and she eats seffa with her hands, dipping the sweet couscous into buttermilk. She never uses her phone at the table. “If you’re alone and afraid of silence, you’re missing the whole point,” she says.
After dinner, she takes a long bath with rose petals she bought at the market. The riad provides a kettle of hot water and a dish of local olive soap. She reads a few pages of a novel set in the same country she’s traveling in—on this trip, it’s The Caliph’s House by Tahir Shah. The practice helps her stay inside the culture’s atmosphere, even in her downtime.
The Evening Reflection
Before sleep, Rachel lights a small candle on her bedside table and dictates voice notes into her phone: observations from the day, ideas for future posts, things she wants to remember about herself. She writes down three gratitudes—not generic, but specific. For example: “Grateful for the woman who showed me how to tie the scarf differently so it stays in the wind. Grateful for the taste of cumin I didn’t know existed. Grateful for the tiredness in my legs that means I walked further than yesterday.”
She turns off all screens by 9:30 PM. The last sound she hears is the fountain in the courtyard and the distant hum of a city that never entirely sleeps. Tomorrow she will wake again before sunrise, because the light will be different, and she wants to catch it.
Practical Takeaways from Rachel’s Rhythm
If you’re planning a solo trip and want to incorporate Rachel’s approach, here are three concrete steps you can take, starting with your next departure:
- Choose a daily theme. Instead of a checklist of sights, pick one sensory focus per day—textiles, water, sound—and let it steer your movements. This creates depth without overwhelm.
- Schedule one hands‑on experience. A cooking class, a workshop with a local craftsperson, or even a guided walk in a non‑touristy neighborhood. Pay the person directly when possible.
- Create a digital sunset. Decide on an hour each evening when you put away all screens. Use that time for writing, reading, or simply sitting with your surroundings. This is where the real integration happens.
Rachel’s day isn’t a template to copy. It’s a window into what happens when you treat travel as a conversation rather than a checklist. The bohemian dress and the polished heels aren’t opposites—they’re two ways of showing up fully. And showing up fully is the only skill you truly need to travel solo anywhere in the world. Next time you pack, ask yourself: what am I carrying that I don’t need? What am I leaving behind that I might?
