Taken in Marrakesh

I really wish I'd known better. But now I do.

On my first full day in Marrakesh, a quiet Sunday, I'm wandering around the Medina. Sure, I seem a little lost, but that's my style. I'm not truly lost, just open to whatever comes my way.

A friendly guy strikes up a conversation in French. He's nice and offers to show me around the city for a few minutes. My gut says to just say goodbye and move on, but I decide to roll with it.

After a nice chat, he invites me for some homemade tea at his place, so I can experience the culture of drinking tea with a local. I hesitate at first, but he assures me his house is nearby, and he has plans later. It's just about tea time.

Being an adventure junkie, I think, why not? I know I can just tell him I need to leave if I want. Plus, sharing tea with a local is a unique opportunity. I know deep inside that experience could be a little dangerous, but I let my adventurous side speak louder.

Little do I know, this will turn out to be one of my scariest experiences while traveling the world.

We walk for a minute to his motorcycle. He says he lives on the other side of the Medina, and this is a quicker way to get there. I know I should've declined, but maybe I'm pushing the adventure too far.

In my mind, I'm thinking, “When am I going to be able to ride a motorcycle with a local again?” Lesson learned - never put yourself in a situation where you're not in control. Being a passenger, you're at the mercy of someone else.

I hop on, living on the edge, wondering where he actually lives. We're riding his motorcycle for a while now, and I imagine we're out of the Medina, and even out of the downtown.

Twenty-five minutes later, things take a dark turn. The man lives far, even past the airport.

We end up in a place with no public transport, no taxis, not even a proper road. I look around and all I can see is desert, the sun, and a few block cemented houses. What did I get myself into? Where am I? How am I going to get out of here?

I pull up my phone without him seeing, and quickly message my friend Francesca in Italy to keep an eye on my location. My text is short and to the point: "SOS. Watch out for my location."

Of course, she calls me right away. I pick up the phone, speak really fast English, saying: "Fran, keep watching my location, and if I'm not home in the next 2 hours, do something."

What could she do from another continent? I have no idea, but I'm sure she will figure it out.

Golden Tip: while traveling alone, always share your location with friends and family, and especially with someone that is in the same time zone as you. You don’t want to ask a friend to watch for your location when it is 3 a.m. for them.

We enter his place, and I notice a camera at the door. Quite odd. I decide to maintain calm and just talk to him.

So, I decide to act normal, like this is the most normal situation. At the end of the day, I'm with a local in Morocco, so I ask about the religion, the impact of Islam in his life, why he has a camera at the door…

He says his neighbors are all very nosy about his private life, so he added a camera to see when they're at the door listening to his conversations with guests.

So, he has lots of guests coming over? I think to myself. Or he does this to a lot of people and takes them back, not sure why. Or I'm another victim of whatever he's planning to do.

He makes Moroccan tea, shows me how to properly serve it, pouring the tea back and forth into a cup and back into the dish. I really do not care at this point, I just want to drink my tea and get out of there.

Tea time passes without incident, and I feel it's time to go. Before I say something, he comes to sit close to me and touches my leg. I freeze for a few seconds and do not know what to do. Usually, in our minds, we know what we would do when someone tries to assault you, but I realize that when it really happens, we freeze, we get awkward, we don't know what to do.

Of course, I cannot get aggressive against him, or make him angry. This man is my only way out of there.

But still, that's my cue to leave. I ask to use the bathroom. Inside, I find one of those bathrooms with no toilet seat but a hole in the ground.

I'm not in the mood to even attempt to use that. I take a deep breath, look at myself in the mirror, gather my courage, and step out.

To my not happy surprise, he's walking around in just a shirt and underwear. "Are you kidding me? I am not going to let myself be sexually assaulted by this disgusting man," I think to myself.

I need to trust my instincts. I need to be very polite if I want to get out of there quickly, especially because I'm at his mercy to drive me back. The first thing that comes to my mind is that I have an appointment to call my mother because we talk to each other every Sunday.

She's waiting for me and even tried to call me already.

A few years ago I made a protocol for leaving potentially dangerous moments like this on trips:

• Make sure to tell someone is expecting you in person or for a phone call. So if you don't respond they will know you are gone.

• Be polite and don't use anger or aggression against the person.

• And tell them you have personal or health problems. No one wants to do something with someone that has health problems.

I awkwardly smile and tell him a straight-up lie that's my desperate attempt to have him quit whatever he's trying to do to me.

I say I'm dealing with some health problems - I point to my crotch for emphasis - and it's not the right time for anything intimate. If he knows what I mean.

I'm hoping that even a disgusting predator would be afraid of catching a sexual disease or something. He backs off and apologizes. He says he'll take me back.

Thank goodness for divine intervention or whatever I did in there.

During the 25-minute ride back, I try to stay calm and positive. I need to get back to my place safely. When I'm still in his power, I have to try to remain calm and show him I'm having a good time. The last thing I want is to make a stranger Moroccan predator nervous. I still have my whole trip ahead of me.

He dropped me off and immediately asked for payment. Payment for what? For gas, the water bottle, and the tea, he said. I couldn't believe it. After such a terrifying experience, I was being asked to pay?

I refused. That set him off. He raged for 20 minutes, refusing to let me go until I paid. I held my ground. I wouldn't let myself be emotionally bullied after what I'd been through. I told him no, and that was my final answer.

Thank goodness we were in a public place. People were watching, seeing how angry he was. I thought about going to the police and reporting the attempted assault, his eyes got wide open when I said that and he shut me down. Being gay is illegal in Morocco, and I could get in some trouble as well.

He finally left after I gave him $2 for the water, which was all I was willing to pay. He snatched the money, walked away, then turned around and poured the rest of the water on the ground in a fit of childish rage.

My adrenaline was through the roof. I couldn't believe I'd been foolish enough to get into that situation. I looked to my left and saw a waiter of the restaurant that was watching our intense encounter the whole time.

He said that a man like him will fool polite travelers and do anything they can to get money out of them. And boy he did...anything to get money and more out of me.

It was a powerful lesson, not just for Morocco, but for life and all my future travels. Sometimes I think I can push the boundaries of how far I can go to get an worth telling experience.

But no unique experience is worth risking my physical, emotional and mental well-being. Safety always comes first...

I went to Marrakesh looking for culture, adventure, and stories worth telling. I got all three, just not in the order I expected.

I survived on politeness, lies, and a fake medical condition I invented in a stranger’s living room. So yes, the tea was authentic.

The experience was dramatically unforgettable. And next time, I’ll stick to guided tours and cafés where the worst thing that can happen is being overcharged for mint tea.