the splendor of africa

How do I begin to speak about my time in morocco? It is like trying to explain the second law of thermodynamics and how it relates to the life of a recent college graduate. So, I will start there: it has been death-defying, exhilarating, the most inclusive and invasive and beautiful travel experience of my short life. The warm air swirls around me as I make my way through the plaza; beggars and thieves surround me but I am not scared, I have been here before. Guayaquil, Quito, Chetumal, every place like this has the same feel, at first. I thought it would be one of those trips again: moving through the world trying not to get robbed and holding your breath until it is over. But this time, surprisingly, it wasnt that way.

I have seen piles of multi-colored spices and persian rugs, fire-eaters and children begging for a meal, felt the wind of rushing mopeds, walked the twisting alleyways through centuries-old walls. It is warm here, my cheeks get rosy in the sun but the breeze makes the warmth comfortable like lying on your mothers lap. At night, the grand plaza comes to life, filling with fortune tellers and musicians and lost souls. I can afford anything and everything I would ever want here, and I havent met a nicer nation of people in any one I have been. Tommorow I am leaving the 13th century city walls to go to the city gardens, to lie in the grass and breathe in the splendor of africa.