Moving Through Morocco: Trains, Buses, Taxis, and the Road

I landed with a map that looked like poetry—blue coastlines, ochre plains, a spine of mountains splitting light—and I promised myself I would move through Morocco with care. I wanted a way of traveling that kept me present: slow enough to notice the arch of a doorway, quick enough to cross valleys by dusk, kind enough to the people whose rhythms I would borrow for a while.

This is how I learned to stitch a journey from public transport and open roads: the hum of high-speed rail, the reliability of long-distance buses, the easy algebra of shared taxis, and the sober attention a car demands. If you are here to feel the country at human scale, I will walk you through what worked—gently, honestly, step by step.

A Gentle Way to Cross the Country

Morocco rewards travelers who match its pace. Between Atlantic ports and mountain towns, I found choices that felt both practical and poetic. Trains carried me like a smooth sentence; buses filled the map where tracks paused; taxis braided edges together; driving gave me quiet stretches where the horizon did most of the talking. Each mode had its season and its hour.

When I stopped trying to crown a single winner, decisions became simpler. I asked: How much time do I have? How much silence do I want? Where do I need flexibility, and where is reliability the real luxury? Let your answers choose for you. This is a country where routes are options, not arguments.

Trains With a Heartbeat: ONCF and the Al Boraq Rhythm

Between Tangier and Casablanca, the high-speed service feels like a heartbeat under glass—steady, close, reassuring. I loved boarding with a reserved seat, watching olive fields and river light slide past. On other corridors, classic intercity trains link major cities with comfortable first- and second-class cars. Stations tend to be well signed, and departures run with the kind of confidence that allows you to unclench your shoulders and simply arrive.

Practical notes that made my rides kinder: buy ahead for popular departures; arrive a little early to find your platform calmly; keep your bag close without clutching it like a secret. Trains and stations are non-smoking zones; the quiet this creates is a gift to everyone on board. When the carriage fills, people make room with grace—snacks get shared, stories get traded, and a long ride becomes a small community for a while.

Where tracks end, the railway's companion buses pick up the thread. I learned to think of rail and bus as one combined system: tickets for a train-plus-bus journey can be purchased together, so connections feel like natural breathing rather than a sprint.

Supratours and CTM: Filling the Map With Reliable Lines

Long-distance buses taught me patience without taking my time. Two names kept returning to my notebook: Supratours, which meshes neatly with the rail network to reach places like Essaouira and desert gateways, and CTM, a national web that ties cities and smaller towns into dependable routes. Seats are assigned, luggage is tagged, and stations usually feel orderly rather than chaotic.

I bought tickets a few hours or a day in advance for peace of mind, especially when I was joining mid-route. Arriving thirty minutes early gave me room to breathe, find a snack, and watch drivers greet one another like colleagues starting a shared shift. Overnight buses saved me a night's stay when distance outpaced daylight, and I learned to pack a scarf and earplugs to build a small cocoon of rest.

When smaller operators tempted me with cheaper fares, I asked the only question that really matters on a long road: who takes better care of both the bus and the people inside it? The big, reputable lines usually answered with actions, not slogans.

City Moves: Trams, Local Buses, and the Comfort of Clarity

In Casablanca and the Rabat–Salé twin cities, trams glide through the day like orderly paragraphs. Platforms are clearly marked, ticket machines straightforward, and the ride turns traffic into background noise. I used trams for museums, markets, and the kind of errands that feel like living, not touring. In other cities, municipal buses and ride-hailing filled the gaps, but a good tram becomes habit fast.

Etiquette is simple: validate your ticket, stand aside to let people off, and offer your seat when the carriage asks for kindness. On busy lines, I kept my bag in front and my phone out of sight; not out of fear, just out of respect for my own attention. Clarity is a travel tool, and trams provide a lot of it.

Shared Taxis, Shared Stories: Grand and Petit

Grand taxis are Morocco's quick math for distance: six passengers, fixed fares between towns in the same region, cars that launch when seats fill. I learned to ask for the official fare sheet—the bulletin—before agreeing, and to confirm the currency softly. When I needed speed or space across longer stretches, I paid for two seats or hired the whole car. It was still humane, still efficient, and often wonderfully scenic.

Inside cities, petit taxis work by the meter—or by a pre-agreed fare if you board where meters are not used. Flag one by the curb, greet the driver, and name your destination with a landmark. The best rides felt like quick conversations about weather, football, or family. When I stepped out, I rounded up to the nearest coin and thanked the road for carrying both of us safely.

Taxi patience is a discipline worth learning. If a driver declines your destination, release it like a bird. Another will stop. Let the country's abundant alternatives keep you from forcing a ride that wants to be someone else's.

Keys to the Kingdom: Driving and Car Hire

Some days the only honest answer was the road. Renting a car gave me unhurried hours between cedar forest and sea spray, plus the freedom to pull over when a hillside asked to be admired in silence. Highways are smooth and signed; national roads are beautiful and ask for attention; mountain passes fold the map into three dimensions that reward steady hands and a humble heart.

I drove by simple rules: seatbelts for everyone; daytime headlights when visibility dipped; no night driving on unfamiliar rural stretches; no haste anywhere. Speed limits are clear—slower in town, faster in the open, and quickest on autoroutes—and patience costs less than a fine or a fright. Tolls are reasonable for the calm they buy, fuel prices fluctuate, and an international driving permit kept questions short at counters and checkpoints.

When I returned the car, I felt both larger and quieter. The country had passed through me at windshield speed, and I had chosen not to rush its lessons.

I wait by a tram platform as evening air softens the city.

Two Wheels and Open Valleys: Motorbikes and Scooters

Two wheels sharpen the senses. I saw more sky per minute, smelled more bread, heard more river. They also raise the stakes. A good helmet, gloves, jacket, and boots stopped being gear and became a promise I kept to the people who love me. I carried a small tool kit, a puncture repair kit, and the humility to call it a day when wind or visibility said so.

On quiet roads, I rode like a guest in someone else's garden: cautious on bends, patient behind trucks, eyes soft but alert for goats, cyclists, and sudden changes in surface. The point wasn't to prove skill. It was to get home safely with a fuller heart.

Safety and Small Courtesies That Carry Far

Stations and stops felt broadly safe to me, in the ordinary way busy places can be safe when you pay attention. I kept documents and money in a slim pouch worn under clothing, and my bag closed in front where crowds tightened. On trains and trams, I treated non-smoking rules as a simple kindness to fellow lungs and as a way to keep carriages restful for elders and children.

When strangers offered help, I accepted the kind that came with information rather than urgency: directions, tips, the poetry of local knowledge. If anyone insisted too hard, I smiled and stepped aside. Morocco is full of generous people and a few professionals of persuasion; distinguishing between them is a traveler's apprenticeship, and it doesn't take long to pass.

Mistakes and Fixes

I did not glide through every journey. A few small missteps taught me better habits, and each fix returned a little calm to the day.

• Boarding Late: I sprinted for a platform and boarded breathless, then discovered a second, quieter departure ten minutes later. Fix: Arrive early; leaving slowly is a form of arriving well.
• Assuming Every Bus Terminal Is the Bus Terminal: Once, my bus left from a company depot on the other side of town. Fix: Confirm the exact station name for CTM or Supratours, not just the city.
• Accepting Taxi Fares Without Checking: I overpaid by guessing. Fix: Ask for the bulletin on intercity routes or confirm the meter before moving.
• Packing for Weather I Wanted, Not Weather I Had: A coastal chill humbled me. Fix: Layer up; Morocco contains seasons that argue within the same afternoon.

None of these ruined a day. Each one made the next day easier to love. Travel is just a series of small repairs that keep wonder running.

Mini-FAQ for Smooth Moves

These are the questions I kept asking and the answers that kept me steady. Your trip will ask its own; let these be a first light.

• Train or bus between major cities? If the route is served by rail, choose the train for comfort and speed; where tracks stop, Supratours or CTM usually provide the most reliable buses.
• Do I need to reserve? For high-demand trains and popular buses, yes. Advance tickets help you choose the hour you actually want, not the hour that's left.
• Are shared taxis safe? They are widely used and efficient. Confirm the destination and fare before you sit, keep small bills handy, and share the back seat like you would a park bench—with awareness and courtesy.
• Should I drive? If you enjoy highways and scenic national roads, yes—with patience. Avoid unfamiliar night driving and give mountain roads the respect they demand.
• What about city transport? In Casablanca and Rabat–Salé, trams are clear and convenient. Elsewhere, local buses and metered taxis keep the day moving.

If you remember nothing else, remember this: choose the mode that protects your attention. The right transport is the one that lets you notice more of what you came to find.