A Month in Morocco: Gato Marroqui

In Morocco I spoke more Spanish then I ever did on any of my countless trips to Mexico. For some reason it felt easier. I’m not fluent, but I’ve also never allowed myself to really dig into practicing the language because conversations with native speakers make me nervous. But with Moroccans I found myself willing to dive in. I remembered conjugations I hadn’t thought of … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Gato Marroqui

A Month in Morocco: Berber Hospitality

My guide through the Rif Mountains was Habte. For four days I called him Abdi. It wasn’t until our final day together that I realized I had been blowing it. As I watched him write his email in my journal, I said, “Your name is Habte? Not Abdi?” He replied, “Yes, it’s Habte. Tourists have trouble hearing the difference so it’s no big deal.” I … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Berber Hospitality

A Month in Morocco: Blame it on the Hash

Since I brought along my sub-zero sleeping bag, I didn’t think sleeping in a hotel without heat would be a big deal. But when I noticed the thick blankets the hotel provided, I was a little concerned. And boy did it got cold. Wicked cold. So cold that when I finally stopped shivering in my cocoon I didn’t want to get out for anything. Not … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Blame it on the Hash

A Month in Morocco: Getting Used to the Hustle

I was alarmed by the chaos of the Tangier bus station. Hawkers stood outside ticket booths, aggressively hollering destinations. I wasn’t sure how to pronounce the city I wanted to go to, Chefchaouen, so I stood in the middle of the ruckus and waited for someone to notice me. It didn’t take long, maybe 45 seconds or so. And soon I was in the window … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Getting Used to the Hustle

A Month in Morocco: From Fear to Vulnerability

“A journey is a person in itself.” – John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley Moroccan men look tough. And though I know this is a ridiculous generalization, fact is I wrote it in my journal. In Tangier I had landed in a place quite unlike anywhere I’ve ever been. I was out of place, high-strung and mysteriously frustrated. But mostly I was confused by the face … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: From Fear to Vulnerability