I Never Rode a Camel

It's nearly midnight and I have Morocco on the brain. It would be easy to sit here and give a minute-by-minute account of my experience overseas. But I won't do that. Going to Morocco was supposed to be an exciting, life-changing move for me, which only lasted for two weeks. And it was two weeks of hell. I had a limited amount of funds and therefore couldn't explore as much as I had wanted. Yet, there are three things that I still kick myself for not doing.

1. I never rode a camel.
2. I never saw Oudaya at sunset.
3. I never went back to the library to get a picture of the bird of paradise flower in the garden.

#1 is pretty self-explanatory. I'm sure it would have been hard to track down a camel in the middle of Rabat,  the capital, which is on the Atlantic coast. But I didn't do much research to find one. # 2 would have been easier to do. Oudaya is a small, walled-off village overlooking the Atlantic, Rabat, and the city to the north, Sale. It's beauty is really indescribable. One of my friends took me there during the day and offered to bring me back on my last night in the city. But I was in a hurry to get to my hotel near the airport outside of Casablanca. And I was already suffering from what would become bronchitis. Not to mention the allergy medicine I had taken made me high. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to explore Casablanca and I don't remember it. #3 would have been the easiest of all. I had gone to the library but had to hand over my passport and my purse in order to be allowed inside. That was extremely uncomfortable. Who would expect to find a garden in the middle of library? Not me. And I certainly didn't expect to see my favorite flower, the bird of paradise, blooming right in the middle of it. My camera was in my purse. I told myself I would come back to get a picture of it but I never did.

Bird of Paradise

These three things still cause pain when I think about them. If I had to pick a fourth item, it would probably be the whole Casablanca incident. I can't allow myself to rehash everything that happened, nor can I drag others through my awful experience. The last couple of Septembers are so full of bad memories, that now I'm too afraid to tell anybody about good things that are happening to me out of fear that I'll jinx myself some how This should be my last post about Morocco or anything else related to the "horrible" month of September.

Until next time,

~Staci~