Is there an overtourism problem in Morocco?

Morocco isn't Venice or Barcelona — there's no nationwide overtourism crisis. But it would be dishonest to say there are no pressure points, because there are, and they're growing. Marrakech in particular has boomed: its medina, Jemaa el-Fnaa, and the Instagram-famous spots can feel genuinely overwhelmed in spring and autumn, pushing up rents, crowding locals out of their own neighbourhoods, and straining water in a region that can ill afford it. Chefchaouen, that photogenic blue town, sees a similar squeeze for its size — narrow lanes packed with day-trippers chasing the same five photos.

The desert gateways have their own version of the problem. A handful of dune areas now host so many camps that the wilderness and silence people came for is harder to find, and the environmental load — waste, water, vehicle traffic — concentrates in small, fragile zones. None of this means you shouldn't go; it means where and when you go matters.

The good news, and I mean this sincerely, is that Morocco is enormous and beautifully varied, and most of it sees few foreign visitors. The Middle Atlas, the Anti-Atlas, the Atlantic coast south of Essaouira, the eastern oases, countless small imperial towns — these are quiet, welcoming, and often more rewarding than the headline sites precisely because they aren't crowded. Every traveller I redirect off the beaten path comes back grateful.

So my practical advice is threefold: travel in shoulder or low season when you can; spend more nights in lesser-known places and fewer in the crush; and when you are in the busy spots, behave as a guest in a living city, not a consumer of a theme park. Spreading visitors across the country and the calendar is the single best antidote to the overtourism that does exist, and it gives you a richer trip into the bargain.