First, let’s be clear, since I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. There is an extensive coastline along Morocco’s most southern coast that, as of yet, I am not allowed to enter as a current Peace Corps volunteer. I want to visit Dakhla and Laayoune, insha’Allah, but I can’t. Not yet. So, this is…
Sometimes, it’s nice to just get in a car and take a mountain drive. There’s nothing like the freedom to explore an area at one’s own pace, stopping at scenic viewpoints, lunching at an out of the way café, eating pomegranates while watching the sunset, or hanging out with shepherds watering their sheep. Unfortunately, Peace Corps…
“Without cafés and newspapers, it would be difficult to travel. A paper printed in our own language, a place to rub shoulders with others in the evenings enable us to imitate the familiar gestures of the man we were at home, who, seen from a distance, seems so much a stranger. For what gives value…
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…
Reason 513 Why I Love Morocco, especially after being abroad: There is a camaraderie, a genuine friendliness among people, even toward strangers. Just asking a question at the airport in broken Arabic gets a warm smile and friendly touch on the shoulder.
Tangier, Tanger, Tanja (طنجة), whatever you call it, is a city full of intrigue and secret histories, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Yet, despite our investigation and openness to experience, it was much like every other large city. To be fair, the mystique was surely exaggerated in the first place. As a…
On Friday, we went to a bath house to experience a Turkish bath. There is no bath, per se, at least in the Western understanding. Rather, the term refers to the way one is washed and massaged by an attendant from head to toe. We were a bit nervous. We had looked at several, but…
Reason 604 Why I Love Morocco: A man can look definitively masculine despite wearing what the West might see as a dress.
Am I a tourist? What makes a tourist a tourist? How long must one live in a place to not be a tourist? Is it merely a state of mind, or something more substantial? If I wasn’t born in a particular place, will I forever be a tourist there? I have done my fair share of…
Athens is angry, it seems. It’s a tempered anger, for the most part, but it is lies always below the surface. One always has the feeling of underlying tension, not with each other, but with people and social systems in power. This is most evident in the ubiquitous graffiti. In Greece, especially in major cities…
