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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

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

One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is how comfort shows up in daily life here in Morocco. Not the big, dramatic moments — the travel stories, the long train rides, the weekend adventures — but the small habits and familiar rhythms that ground my days. The little things that make living in a new place feel less like an adjustment and more like… life. It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement of being somewhere completely new. But it’s the everyday comforts th

From my rooftop, the city feels different. Quieter, even though it isn’t. I can still hear the hum of cars, the call to prayer, the clinking of dishes from the restaurants below — but it all blurs together into background noise. Down on the street, there’s always something happening. Two restaurants side by side stay busy late into the night. Across the street, there’s a hanut , one of those small corner shops that sells everything you need — water, eggs, chips, tissues, SIM

When October rolled around here in Morocco, something felt off. Back home in Maine, this is my favorite time of year — crisp air, colorful leaves, cozy sweaters, apple picking, pumpkin carving, and every kind of fall food imaginable. But in Rabat, the traditional New England fall isn’t really a thing. There are no hayrides or cider doughnuts, no rows of pumpkins outside the grocery store, no smell of fallen leaves in the air. I found myself missing that sense of seasonal chan

One of the first things I’ve noticed about Rabat is that the city has its own rhythm, and it’s not quite the same as what I’m used to...