When I first came to Morocco, I didn’t expect to stay. I came with a mission, not a plan—to support the cannabis farming communities in Ketama as they prepared for the coming wave of legalization. What I found there was a world of resilience, complexity, and people who genuinely wanted to do things better—for themselves, their families, and their future.
I spent my holidays in the RIF mountains—learning, listening, helping wherever I could. Not as an expert, but as someone who understood systems and knew what legal transition could look like. I met with associations, cooperative leaders, even local government representatives. And almost every time, someone would say:
“If you really want to help, you need to apply for residency.”
Why I Needed the Carte de Séjour
At first, I brushed it off. I thought, I’m just here to volunteer. But I quickly realized that being a foreigner without residency made collaboration difficult. Renting an apartment? Complicated. Opening a bank account? Not possible. Being taken seriously in meetings or gaining access to certain spaces? Often met with polite dismissal.
If I wanted to stay. If I wanted to contribute. If I wanted to live something real—I had to become legal.
So I applied. Or at least, I tried to.
The Residency Maze
Here’s the thing no one really tells you: getting your carte de séjour isn’t impossible—but it can feel like it if you’re on your own. There are forms in French, interviews in Arabic, documents you didn’t know you needed until it’s too late, and a rhythm to the system that you only learn through experience (and a few mistakes).
I had the motivation. I had the background. But I didn’t have the local know-how.
It took time, trial, and the kindness of a few people who helped translate, guide, and explain what the process really involved. And eventually—paper by paper, meeting by meeting—I got it.
Why I Stayed
Getting my residency card wasn’t just about staying in Morocco. It was a turning point. A decision to invest, commit, and become part of something instead of watching from the outside.
It opened doors—literally and figuratively. I could finally rent a long-term apartment, register for local services, and be recognized as someone who was here not just for a moment, but for the long haul.
For Anyone Thinking About Staying
If you’re in Morocco and thinking of applying for your own residency, know this: you’re not alone. And you don’t have to do it alone.
That’s why I created Welcome to Tanger City. To help others avoid the confusion I went through. To offer the kind of support I wish I had. And to remind people that making a life here is possible—with the right help, heart, and guidance.
Need help navigating the process? Want to turn your Moroccan journey into something more permanent?
Contact us here and let’s walk the path together.
