Runaway Narrative

On a Thursday afternoon, I stood at my third-story hotel window and watched the busy but simple life in this Moroccan Mediterranean city pass by. I watched with a mixed sense of ease and wonder, which mirrored the energy of the tranquil yet bustling little world below. Though the breeze off the sea was something more than gentle, it brought with it the aromas of the local cuisine – fresh seafood, bread, and the occasional waft of the smell of chicken, beef, and shrimp on the

After having spent a year in the U.S. working and doing nothing outside of that job in order to save money, I finally returned home to Morocco. Living in the United States reduces almost everyone into a mere existence. Every day, the common man exchanges a third of their day to earn just enough to maybe pay all the bills each month. By the time I had spent a full week back in Rabat, I realized how much decompressing I still needed to do, and just how soulless and stressful li

Capturing the essence of a city can be a beautiful, enriching experience. It can also come with its challenges. One minute, you are capturing a candid moment between a doting mother and her child, or some random person dressed in eccentric attire who eats up every second of attention you give them (oftentimes at the expense of some spare change). The next minute, you are being cursed and screamed at for daring to acknowledge and want to capture a person’s uniqueness in a sea

It was 2023, Rabat, Morocco, and for days I had been watching the set up and preparation for something apparently huge - well at least significant. Big trucks hauling tents, outdoor lighting, hay, and horses rolled by, just outside my apartment - one by one - all throughout the day and most of the night. Traffic in general had increased almost exponentially as word had spread about what was to come. The excitement within the community was building. People were parking t

Being someone who hates having notifications just sitting there unopened, I grabbed up my phone in a manner that reflected my frustration and angst. It was a message like so many I'd received in the previous days; an offer to stay somewhere until I could leave again. (Please know that I will always be very grateful for each and every one of those offers- just to be clear.) Admittedly, I did ultimately dismiss them because no one ever before included pictures and a link. And t

Things did not work out for the Canadian and me. (Note: I refer to him as "the Canadian" not for any reason to belittle but out of requested anonymity.) In short, we were vastly different people on our own paths pursuing very different goals. If there were ever two people who stood in each other's way simply by doing their own lives, it was us. One might wonder just how we were standing in each other’s way during a global lockdown. Well, I’d found out that he was “

Within the next two days of posting my Coronavirus update video, it was mandated to have an authorization letter signed by authorities to be out and about. This letter, written in Arabic, contained a designated zone, or annex - as they called it, that you were allowed to be in according to where you lived or were staying. We were prohibited from leaving these designated areas by law. I was in Annex 1 - the medina and a very close proximity of no more than a few city blocks

In the span of just two days after posting my video in Chefchaouen—asking locals what they’d heard about COVID (the Coronavirus)—I would experience the first of many, many events set in motion by an approaching chaos. One that would reach every corner of the world and permanently change how it functioned. At the time, I was staying in a place that was, in truth, too small to be considered a riad, yet far too personal and home-like to be called a hostel. My room measured ro

Chefchaouen, the Blue Pearl as they say, sits nestled in the Rif Mountains of North Morocco, far removed from Morocco’s big cities. The vibe and unique beauty of this exotic location gives visitors the feeling of being quite literally disconnected from the rest of the world. As you walk through the streets leading from the bus stop, Chefchaouen looks much like any other small village in Morocco. Meaning, at first glance, there’s nothing significantly more charming or uniq

Once settled into my accommodations, I packed up a day bag with my camera, water, and my passport then made my way back through the neighborhood to the main street that led to my next adventure as a solo traveler. I was excited, full of wonder, and energized – ready to experience anything from speaking to people in a totally different culture, to the strangest street foods I could find (in fact, the stranger- the crazier, the better - to shopping in a place where bargain

In my previous post, I had just walked a magical mile to my hostel and got checked in. Now, let me take you deeper into the hostel and fill your imagination with the beauty of Moroccan décor. Welcome to L'hostel à Casablanca experience as I recall it at that time. When you come to Morocco, especially for the first time, you find yourself in awe of how the hostels and riads are not only decorated but alive with the spirit of their heritage. The tilework, the lighting, the

They say love finds us. It slips in quietly, usually when we’re busy chasing dreams or checking boxes on some bucket list, and we don’t recognize it until we’re already too deep to walk away, even if we tried. One minute we’re moving through life, confident in our plans, certain of what we think we want. The next, destiny, or whatever name you prefer for the universe’s plot twists—steps in, grabs the wheel, and drives us straight into something big and unexpected and beautifu