A Month in Morocco (Final Entry): My Foreign Home

I asked the shop owner if she wouldn’t mind explaining the significance of the Portuguese rooster motif. She locked her arms on the checkout counter and leaned forward, eyeballing me over her glasses. “Yes, I would mind. It’s a stupid story. If you really want to know, it’s on a poster in the corner. Have at it.” I read it, and she was right. As … Continue reading A Month in Morocco (Final Entry): My Foreign Home

A Month in Morocco: To Be a Better Man

I napped while the train rolled north along the west coast. As the steel wheels lumbered along rust-pitted tracks, I dreamed of men shouting at me in Arabic. I woke up confused—and a look out the window made me think of Baja. Trash fires dotted the sandy, barren stretches while kids on ratty bicycles rode along the parallel tracks, throwing rocks. The ocean was flat … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: To Be a Better Man

A Month in Morocco: When in Rome…

I arrived in Volubilis at 8am. The heavy Mediterranean fog mixed with smoke from brick factories shrouded the ghostly columns on distant hilltops. Not until I was about to leave did the clouds finally burn off and offer a panoramic view of the 2300 year old ruined city that once housed more than 20,000 people. The sun brought to life intricate bath mosaics and mythological … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: When in Rome…

A Month in Morocco: Vacilando

In the Fez train station I read Steinbeck’s Travels With Charley while occasionally looking up to watch people. Transportation hubs always offer a sense of relief. They’re filled with temporary people from all around the world and the expectation to comply with local customs is largely eschewed. The three shops in the station are bathed in neon and have westernized names: Smoothie Rail, Venezia Ice, … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Vacilando

A Month in Morocco: Topped Off With a Kiss

It’s 4:30am when my bus arrives in Fez. A taxi brings me to the hotel I stayed in two weeks ago, but a scribbled note taped to the locked door says they’re full. I’m not surprised— it’s Christmas Eve and I’ve already noticed an influx of tourists. I shoo a couple cats off the stoop and nestle into a corner that smells like piss. I’m … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Topped Off With a Kiss