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Getting to Marrakesh felt like part of the adventure itself. Four hours on the train each way gives you time to watch Morocco slowly shift—cities softening into countryside, colors changing, conversations fading in and out. It’s long enough to feel the distance, but comfortable enough to let your mind wander. By the time I arrived, I felt ready for something different. And Marrakesh is  different. Even as someone who’s been living in Morocco, it immediately felt touristy—and

I’ve heard about Moroccan hammams since I arrived — spoken about casually, recommended enthusiastically, treated as something both ordinary and essential. This week, I finally experienced one for myself. I went to Marsh + Mallow in Rabat with a friend, where we booked a manicure and pedicure, a hammam, and a blowout. The entire experience cost about $40 , which still feels a little unbelievable. This was a private  hammam, which is different from many traditional hammams here

There is something strange about realizing you’re in your last month somewhere — especially when that place still feels like it’s unfolding. I’m not leaving tomorrow. I’m not packing boxes yet. I’m still going to class, meeting people, riding the tram, walking my usual routes. And yet, everything now comes with a quiet awareness: this is one of the last times. The last month doesn’t arrive all at once. It creeps in gently. It shows up when someone asks, “When do you leave?” W

Let’s talk about something that people often ask me about, but that doesn’t usually make it into polished travel blogs: catcalling. Does it happen in Morocco? Absolutely. But here’s the part I wasn’t expecting — it has often been the most polite  catcalling I’ve ever experienced, and it rarely carries the edge of aggression I’ve felt elsewhere. Most days, it sounds like: “Hello, welcome to Morocco!” “You’re very beautiful!” “Hi — you look pretty today!” And my personal favori

Christmas looks very different in Morocco. As a predominantly Muslim country, the holiday isn’t widely celebrated here, and while that’s something I respect and appreciate, I found myself missing a bit of the seasonal magic that usually sneaks in around this time of year. So I did what felt like the best solution: I took a quick long weekend trip to Vienna to soak up Christmas markets, cold air, and twinkling lights. I even bought a jacket and scarf specifically for this trip

Over the past few weeks, my time in Morocco has taken me south — first to Ouarzazate, then to Agadir — two places that couldn’t feel more different, yet both left a strong impression. Ouarzazate I traveled to Ouarzazate with a group of fellow Fulbrighters to help run workshops at the cinema school there. Over two days, we watched two films with students and spent time discussing media, storytelling, and how perception is shaped through film. The conversations were thoughtful,

This weekend, I had the absolute honor of attending a Moroccan wedding — my friend Safaa’s brother was getting married, and their family welcomed me into the celebration with open arms. Safaa described it as a “humble” wedding, but to me, it felt extraordinary in every possible way. From the moment I arrived, it was clear that this was a celebration built on joy, tradition, and community. The women celebrated separately from the men, a custom that creates space for women who

Thanksgiving looked a little different this year — okay, a lot different — but somehow it became one of the most memorable ones I’ve ever had. There was no morning spent chopping vegetables in a familiar kitchen, no parade playing in the background, no rush to get the timing right on four different dishes. There wasn’t even the crisp Maine air that always seems to arrive just in time for the holiday. Instead, I found myself walking through Rabat in mild November weather, head