faces in morocco.
When visiting another country, you take in so many things. The monuments, the sights, the streets, the food, the culture. But more important than all of that together, are the people. And once stepping inside a foreign country, it’s one of the first things that strikes me.
Lots of people were kind and wanted to make conversation. Lots of people assumed I was a millionaire and wanted me to spend money. Lots of people said my smile was like a flower, and offered to exchange thousands of camels for Avra’s hand in marriage. We laughed and had some wonderful afternoons there.
But, it was hard to come by a group of people enjoying the day out in the street. And that, after living in southern Spain for two years, was almost more shocking than anything. Men quietly sat at cafés facing the street and sipped their coffee or tea. But there were no laughs, there was no camaraderie, and there were hardly any women.
Often, people pretended to want to help us find our way, offering us directions and tips — and then at the end, would ask for money. I know these are the things you read about and expect before you go, but it’s impossible to really prepare yourself for the kind of poverty that kicks some of these people in the face day after day after day.
Cheers to new experiences and being reminded to never take your life for granted. Cheers to meeting new people and learning you can’t necessarily trust everyone. And, cheers to being fooled and fooled again because no matter what happened in Morocco, at the end of the day, there’s something to be said for believing in the good of people.