It was the first time that I found myself immersed within a culture that was different from my own in almost every aspect. The people, the language, the religion, the type of lifestyle - EVERYTHING was different. But by no means different in a bad way. Morocco is indeed much poorer than the U.S and the standard of living is also much lower, however; I was surprised to discover that the quality of life could be considered more or less the same.
This sort of revelation I expected from a country like Italy where, despite higher unemployment rates and lower standards for career advancements and high salaries, the people nonetheless seem genuinely happier than a lot of Americans. But in Morocco, I did not expect to confront a people who were so unbelievably hospitable, friendly, and happy to just ... be.
Personally, I couldn't communicate very well with anyone considering the fact that I don't speak Arabic or French, but I was lucky enough to be accompanied by a friend who has been living there since August and has in many ways become very integrated and adapted to the type of lifestyle there. He recounted innumerable occasions in which he would be confronted by random people on the streets, strike up a conversation, and after 10 minutes have exchanged numbers and received a mandatory invitation to dine at their house anytime he felt like stopping by.
Now this is not to say that Morocco doesn't have its fair share of problems - poverty, being incessantly hassled to buy some sort of product, widespread attempts to rip-off consumers to name a few - but every place has its pros and cons.
I was even more struck by the influence that Islam has had on the cities I visited. I have never been to a place where the majority of the population is Muslim and by this I was overwhelmed in every sense of the word. I simply didn't know what to expect. The style of dress is very conservative, everyday phrases are infused with Muslim blessings, and bars and alcohol are scarce as they are forbidden by the Islamic codes. Moreover, the role that women played in society and the overall lack of choices and opportunities that most of them have was inconceivable.
But getting to hear the call to prayer five times a day was a phenomenon that was both incredibly bewildering and beautiful at the same time. We would be sitting on the terrace of our hostel watching the sun set and suddenly, around 8:00 the call would begin. The Muslim song would echo through the city in waves, bouncing off of the nearby mountains, and reverberating throughout every building reaching your ears just in time to send shivers up and down your entire body. Everything seemed to stop still in time. It left me with an extraordinary sensation of tranquility as if everything were at peace in the world. I grew up going to Church for countless years, but never before in my life did I witness firsthand the ability of a religion to captivate the hearts and minds of an entire population in a matter of seconds.
I was left with an unquenchable thirst to be thrown into other places and cultures as equally diverse as this one. It only took two cities in one country to instill within me an indistinguishable sense of exhilaration, awe, and wonder. I realized just how large the world truly is and how small I am in comparison. I have since been left with the itching and inexorable desire to come back after I return to the U.S. to finish my last year at school. To come back to Italy, Morocco, and the millions of other places the world has to offer. I have dangled my feet in its waters and now I want nothing more than to be entirely submerged.
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