Reason 1,233 Why I Love Morocco: Everything is possible with WhatsApp—doctor’s appointments, car repair, hotel reservations, fish mongers, taxi pick-ups, you name it. Of course, one must obtain the numbers first, but there’s always a friend of a friend of a friend whose brother knows just the man you need.
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…
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.
Reason 735 Why I Love Morocco: Nearly every shop, and many households, have water jugs outside for any passersby who may need a drink.
(Compare this to the privatization of water supplies in much of the West.)
Reason 1,049 Why Love Morocco: The tajine. Not the meal, but the cookware. I’m so integrated at this point that I don’t know how I’ve live my adult years without one. I use it every day. It’s a pressure cooker, a crock-pot, a deep-fryer, popcorn maker, and “microwave” all in one. It’s truly a wonder.
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…
Reason 404 Why I Love Morocco: I can sit in a crowded taxi with my arm around a strange man and his hand on my knee without all the Western fears of male/male intimacy.