Have you ever had it happen that you tell the abridged version of a story so many times, you start to forget the actual details of what happened?Read More
There is a certain fact about myself that may seem rather obvious, but is something that I come face-to-face with on a daily basis. I am never going to be Moroccan. I can learn Darija to the best of my ability, I can learn how to cook tagines and couscous and know where to get the best zlefa de bissara in the city, know how to haggle with shop owners and carry on a decent conversation with my taxi driver. I could, I suppose, dye my hair darker, wear a djellaba every day, wear thicker make-up, but really none of this is ever going to make me native to this country. I will always be an outsider. A foreigner. Gauwria.Read More
Living in a foreign country often involves picking up certain new habits and customs, nestling them into your daily life. Upon moving to Morocco, the first word I learned in Arabic was Salaam aalikoum.
My mind has been churning lately with all that is to come this summer, planning, making lists and sketches, and getting over-enthusiastic about packing. Sometimes I find it hard to wax on and on about life when I am so busy feeling it. Every time I try to write in these past couple days, all that comes out is something akin to poetry. Snippets and snapshots of these slow moving yet full days.Read More
“Nothing evokes melancholy like cities do” -Tara Isabella Burton, The Geography of Melancholy, American Reader …And oh, the melancholy of Tangier. I have always loved that word- melancholy. It sounds particularly poetic and romantic to the ear, and yet to feel it is quite another matter. Lately this city has been sucking me into a lazy, slouching form of this feelingRead More
“It can be safe to say that when we learned to speak to, and listen to, rather than to strike or be struck by, our fellow human beings, we found something worth keeping alive, worth possessing, for the rest of time.” -Eudora Welty. Growing up in Minnesota, language was something I generally took for granted. I never had any problems communicating what was needed, asking for help or using my words to connect with others.Read More
Early on in my traveling life, I realized that I have a strong aversion to the word tourist. It evokes, to me, the image of someone who is on the outskirts, gawking and snapping photos of what is within. I have always preferred trying to dig a bit deeper wherever I am, learning the customs, rhythms and language that are local to a place. This characteristic has served both positively and negatively throughout my travels and living abroad. At my best, I converse with locals, impressing them with colloquialisms and walk around the city as if I know it by heart.Read More
While millions of pumpkin spice lattes are brewing in America, here there is only the slightest change in breeze temperature to signal the seasons changing. This is about the time of year when a bittersweet sort of homesickness kicks in. The longer I live in Morocco, the more wildly these feelings seem to fluctuate.Read More