For those of you back home, here is a VERY brief overview of our trips to an amazing archaeological find. Take this information with a grain of salt, as they say, for I am not an expert. Consider this merely a solicitation for further exploration. It’s an ancient city just outside of the town of Moulay…
Louis C. K. has an insightful comedic bit about being a white, middle-aged, English-speaking, American male. He discusses the uncomfortable intersection of guilt about having all the unearned privilege each of these identifiers offers him while simultaneously being grateful for having them. He admits that, if he was given the choice, he would certainly choose to have…
Though my town is relatively small, it has a serious road safety problem because of a major highway that runs straight through its middle. Traditionally a group of villages spread throughout the oasis that surrounds what used to be a river—but that is now dry most of the year—much of the town has grown to envelope the thoroughfare. “Centre,”…
Oh my, what a lovely little country. While driving through rural Luxembourg, I thought, “This is what suburban America strives to become.” Every village looked like it was straight out of a planned community brochure. Every little village is pristine, spotlessly clean, immaculate. Every little village is picturesque framed by green rolling hills. Every little village…
Reason 1,750 Why I Love Morocco: Apparently, ambassadors, at least the Angolan one, take the well-being of their citizens and their spouses very seriously. Hamdulillah.
Our hotel breakfast options are much different than typical American fare. Olives, cucumbers, feta, and Turkish tea are standard. Yet another reminder of how accustomed we become to routine. Below are images of breakfast at Ottoman Hotel Cağaloğlu.
Reason 1,843 Why I Love Morocco: No matter what you need, there’s always a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy.
Moroccan street vendor selling pomegranate juice.
Reason 1,800 Why I Love Morocco: A large glass (not plastic, even though it’s a street vendor) of delicious, freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice is only $1.50.
Living in the United States, I never imagined living in Africa, yet here I am at the tail end of year three. When I’d imagined a life abroad, like most Americans, I suppose, I imagined European destinations. There was always something in the back of my mind, a sense of the unknown, that made the…
This weekend, Nissrine and I joined a group teachers from the school on a safari into Quiçama National Park. The park is about an hour south of the Angolan capital, Luanda. It’s a massive game reserve. Within the center of the park is a group of what seemed like decent, air conditioned bungalows along with a…