A day that I will never forget, by Lindsay Baerg

It’s hard for me to put into words my experience in Morocco. It is certainly a day that I will never forget.
As we embarked onto the ferry, I was very uncertain of what to expect. While waiting in line to have our passports stamped, I listened to different conversations; a mom talking to her little boy, sisters bickering, two friends laughing and swaying side to side with the rolling waves of the boat. The Spanish sounded more foreign and the blending of French, Arabic, and German seemed alien. My stomach became uneasy, maybe from the rocking, but more likely from the unknown ahead. I walked outside and inhaled the sweetness of the salty air as well as cigarette smoke from the elderly Spanish lady standing beside me. Spain was no longer in sight and we were cruising full speed ahead toward Morocco. Tangier began to emerge from behind the early morning fog. Large buildings outlined the modernized city and small houses covered the sprawling hillsides. As the boat began to slow, people shuffled towards the exits and funneled out. Meghan and I strode off the ferry and into Morocco.
We quickly located our guide, Abdeslam, a middle-aged man who he smiled ear to ear and exclaimed how excited he was to show us his country. Once in the car, we began the two and a half hour journey to Chefchaouen, a small town in northwest Morocco in the Rif mountains known for its blue houses. After leaving the city of Tangier, the landscape became much more barren and the houses few and far between. The road gradually became windier and narrower as we approached the town. I knew we were close when more and more of the buildings we passed were blue. After a long drive, we finally arrived. I stepped out of the car and looked up. The mountain range engulfed the sky and the bright sun illuminated the blue hues of the houses. The call to prayer rang and the sound echoed through the blue alleyways. It was hard to believe I was actually here. I was in Morocco, in a town that I had only seen pictures of online, with only Meghan and our guide. I had a sudden moment of panic as I really began to understand how far away I was. Yes, the culture in Seville is very different from the United States, but nothing like this.
On the car ride back to Tangier I looked out the window at the small houses passing by. People lived in these houses; the stunning blue houses in Chefchaouen, the houses next to the landfill, the houses by the dam, the mansions near the king’s property in Tangier. These people wake up every day just like the rest of the world and Morocco is their home. I am grateful that I got to experience it, even if only for the day.