It had been a few years since my last journey abroad. With my birthday coming up and some time to travel, I knew it was time to go somewhere new. To celebrate another year around the sun, I thought it would be a good idea to get out of my comfort zone completely. I wanted my first real solo travel abroad to be a challenging experience. I don't like travel when all the experiences are comfortable and pre-planned. I like the idea of seeing where you might end up without much forethought. Landing in Morocco with no place to stay the first night put that desire to the test.

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Getting off the plane, the heat was my first welcome to the country, besides a less than friendly customs agent. Stifling hot air and a crowd jostling to get out of the airport provided me with all the adrenaline I needed to postpone the jet lag until I could find a place to stay. I found my way through to the crowd and made my way to a train station adjacent to the exit of the airport. It was hot, crowded, and choked with cigarette smoke, I loved every second of it. Looking around the train station I was quietly happy to see a familiar face. On the last leg of the plane ride over, I was lucky enough to be sat next to two girls my age heading home after some time in Paris. In the stifling train station it gave me a small measure of confidence knowing that if I needed help, she may offer it to me.

 

After some internal deliberation, I decided to spend the first night of the trip in Tangier. The only problem is that I landed in Casablanca, and Tangier was a few hundred miles away. Thankful for modern technology, I found my seat on the newly built Moroccan bullet train and even managed to book a small hotel in the center of the old city. Two hours later I was walking around the streets of Tangier soaking up the sights and sounds of the unfamiliar. At some point finding my way through the narrow winding alleys, I started to feel myself become intimidated by my surroundings. With Tangier's checkered colonial past, you could make your way around with Spanish, French, or the Moroccan dialect of Arabic, Darija. Unsure of even my own ignorance, I managed to get where I needed to go with a few smiles, hand gestures, and broken words.

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Summoning a bit of courage, I went out to explore more of the city after a quick stop in my new room. My senses were almost immediately overwhelmed. After dark the streets were still full of life. Old men crowded in tea shops watching a local soccer game on a small tv, younger men roamed the streets with intentions unknown, and little kids loudly shouted and ran past me through the narrow alleys. I couldn't walk more than a few steps without smelling fresh mint tea or seeing unfamiliar pastries and meats in little markets that lined the streets. The streets were full of life while I felt my own liveliness fading quickly. Winding my way back through the maze of alleys and side streets I made it back to my room, thankful to have a place to rest. As I laid down, a small window welcomed in a cool breeze and the sounds of the streets below floated in with the fresh air. 

 

I woke up the next morning to the call to prayer echoing through the old city. I knew I was in the right place as I began to feel the raw energy of a full day ahead. Taking in all the sights and sounds of a new adventure at daybreak on the hotel roof, I could still feel the nerves from the night before somewhere inside me, but that feeling was quickly replaced by anticipation for what was to come.