What happens when you mix a visitor from the States + midterms + travel opportunities? Backlog! It’s a blog’s worst enemy, and I fell prey to it this month. Side note – you know you’re really slacking when your dad sends you multiple e-mails a) making sure you’re alive and b) complaining about your lack of posts.
So what did I do with all my time apart? First, I picked up my boyfriend from the airport in Sale, an adventure in and of itself. He got a brief introduction to Darija, the family and Moroccan cooking before we hopped in a car with three others and headed for the majestic hills of Chefchaouen.
This mountain town was a great place to start our trek. Even the ride there is both terrifying and beautiful. It rained all the way, so that some of the roads weren’t so much roads as mud baths, but we made it there in one piece. That night we hiked up to a mosque in the side of the mountain in time for the evening call to prayer. Imagine sitting arm-in-arm with some of your closest friends while the undulating voices of twenty or more muezzins rings out over the city at your feet. How can one moment be so beautiful?
On the way back from Chefchaouen, I used the most horrifying “Turkish toilet” that I’ve ever seen and enjoyed some of the greasiest fries. Once back in Rabat, Nick and I popped into my apartment to “refaire les valises,” only to find that our host family was once again repainting my room. That’s right; for the second time this semester, they moved aside all mine and my roommate’s belongings in order to completely redecorate. They anticipated our arrival with a huge meal of lamb and vegetables. After having such a small host daughter, I think what really endeared Nick to my host mom was his willingness to consume everything she put in front of him. So much for “popping” in.
One 5-hour train ride later, Nick and I found ourselves in Marrakech, at the heart of tourism in Morocco. By sheer luck, we wound up at a riad (Moroccan equivalent of a bed and breakfast) with a heater in the room and English television – two grand rarities in Moroccan hotels. The best part of our time in Marrakech was probably the great cat pictures I got; otherwise, things were a little too hustling and bustling for my tastes.
From there, we took a three-hour bus south to Essaouira. This beach town quickly became my favorite place in the country. Maybe it was our shared love of the ocean that made us feel at home among the locals. Perhaps we just needed a break from being constantly hassled after Marrakech. Or maybe it was the view of the sunset from the rooftop terrace at our hotel. Who knows? Whatever it was, we left on Saturday morning with heavy hearts, vowing to come back – someday.
After spring break, I got back just in time for midterms…and more traveling! Unfortunately this cafe is about to close (fun fact: apparently Morocco runs on daylight savings time, too! It changed Sunday, and I’m still feeling an hour behind), so that story will just have to wait.
The Littlest Barista Abroad 
THIS BLOG POST WAS WELL WORTH THE WAIT!
SHOULD THE TRAIN BE RENAMED THE “MARRA-CAT EXPRESS?”