Blog

This past weekend, I traded my usual routine in Rabat for a visit to Safi, where my friend and fellow Fulbrighter, Catherine, is living and teaching. The train ride was long — about five and a half hours — but it was the kind of journey that lets you settle in, read, stare out the window, and watch the landscape shift from coastal city to open fields to the quieter stretch of Morocco’s Atlantic coast. By the time I arrived, it already felt like a small adventure. Catherine wa

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