With two weeks in Morocco there were days that felt longer than others and then moments that flew by.
Morocco felt wild — the kind of wild I had been searching for a while. It was an experience that pushed me, reminding me much of my time in Jordan a few years back. There were medinas that provided hours of getting lost, sights and smells unfamiliar to my senses, and a culture so foreign to home that I felt like I was traveling again.
Morocco is not a spoon-fed destination, no matter how pretty a photo may be on social media; it’s a place that is raw and a complete sensory overload. There were times that were challenging, like encounters with unwanted attention, and it often meant brushing it aside to focus on the joys of Morocco. But with those moments came moments of joy, like waking up to sunrise in the Sahara, or tasting sizzling hot tajin in the medina of Marrakech. It was very much a trip that required a labor of love and what you put into it, you received back.
If there was one component to traveling through Morocco that was unexpected, it would be indeed “time.” Getting from one destination to another required countless hours in the car, with stretches that expanded over a day. It required a commitment to seeing places in hopes that 10 hours in a car would be worth it — and almost every place was. I don’t think I had spent that much time on the road, even in my own country.
One of my favorite parts of being in Morocco was being immersed in a Muslim-majority country. It’s so different from home, and a token that what we see on the news is often not an accurate portrayal. It couldn’t have been a more timely trip, rather a breath of fresh air and a reminder how powerful travel can be to find how we are all alike — all humans with emotions, struggles, and needs no matter race or religion. The Call to Prayer rings out in the morning and the evening, and it seems as though everything stops — it’s truly an indescribable feeling to hear it echo through the streets.
Coming to Morocco was not another place to cross off the list. Rather, it was somewhere that you could feel so moved that one would be inspired to come back. Two weeks didn’t feel like enough, and I would jump on a plane to come back in a heartbeat.
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