You should say yes to things more often, I told myself as I walked back to my hotel room in Taghazout, Morocco.  

 

I'd been in the country for a little over a week at this point, and I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that I was feeling at least a little lonely. I'd met a few travelers along the way, and found it fascinating how quickly people become friends when you're on the move in an unfamiliar place. There's always a mutual understanding between strangers, whether conscious or unconscious, that those chance encounters are fleeting periods of time and therefore so much more precious (something I have to work on applying more to my daily life). 

 

A few days prior I’d met a cash strapped American on the bus and it was a welcome relief from feeling alone. It felt even better to be able to share a cab ride afterwards. My experience with Moroccan taxis had been less than ideal and going to battle once more with company made me feel a little safer for the time being.

 

Rolling down the coastal roads at sunset on the way to Taghazout, I could see the creeping influence of big business. Large complexes of shops and new homes were in the early stages of construction. I said a quiet thank you to the developers for being too slow to make it there fully before I could see the little town in a more authentic form. The road was windy and the headlights painted the dust being kicked up by the few passing cars we encountered. By the time I made it all the way to Taghazout it was dark, but the town still felt alive. Men ate together in restaurants and vendors sold smoked meats and other street food out of little stalls along the road. The smells from the food combined with the warm sea breeze filled me with happiness. 

 

After some exploring, I made my way to the surf hostel that catered to the few people who ventured this far for a chance at some uncrowded waves. The hostel was run by a local family in a 3 story building. The only English speaker in the family was the daughter, and I became pretty dependent on her quickly to find where I needed to go. Despite my best efforts, my Darija and French was still poor at best. The last room available was a private room, and despite the lonely feelings, I wasn’t upset to have it to myself. It was just big enough to fit a mattress, and thankfully had a window that looked out over the town towards the ocean. Walking to the shared bathroom, I had a painful feeling of guilt when I found where the host family stayed. Behind a little curtain, the family all shared a few mats on the floor while all their guests slept in beds in rooms. A nice little reminder of how nice I’ve had it in my lifetime. 

 

The next day I walked down to one of the little surf shops in the town square and rented an old leaky wetsuit and a longboard well past its best days. I was just thrilled at the idea of surfing a good wave on a new continent. The right that works on good days wasn’t breaking, but there was miles of clean offshore beach break to be explored. After a decent session with no one else in the water, I started walking back up the beach towards the town. To my surprise, I was being waved over by a local looking guy around my age. “Hey bro!” “Bro come sit with me!” One of the most genuine smiles I’d ever seen accompanied his call. 

 

Within a few minutes I realized I’d made a new friend. Muhammed grew up in Taghazout and made a living running around town doing odd jobs. With the travelers that drifted through, he managed to learn a good bit of English, Spanish, German, not to mention his native Darija and some French on the side. Exchanging a few stories of the places we were from and the things we like to do, finding common ground was easy. When he found out I liked photography, he told me he knew the best spot in town for sunset. Always happy for a few insider tips, I was happy to have a new place to shoot and a friend to do it with. 

 

We met a few hours later in the square in the center of town. He was easy to pick out with his long curly hair and magnanimous smile. We started weaving our way through the seaside restaurants with linen curtains blowing in the wind as we raced the sun. Along the way we picked up a few more of Muhammed’s friends and before I knew it, I was just one of the boys. They even insisted that they take a video of me walking through town, just so I'd be able to look back later. At the end of the walk we made it to the edge of the seawall overlooking the coastline. We sat and talked and shared some coffee and cigarettes. I did my best to listen more than I spoke, and sat fascinated by the similarities of people I’d just met halfway around the world. Just me and my new friends.