Even though I’m sitting still, here in the Fez airport during my last hour or so in Morocco, my mind is swirling with all kinds of thoughts. Morocco has been such an experience. I never thought I would go somewhere like this completely on my own, and I’m so glad I pushed through my fear and just did it.That’s one of the many things I’m learning, even though I might have “known” it already, it didn’t really hit me until I let myself do it: doing things I’m scared to do will make me so much less scared in the future. I feel like I can do anything now. After some of the shit I’ve dealt with and come out victorious on the other side, I feel like I can go anywhere alone. How can anything in the world scare me now that I’ve done what I’ve done?

Even though Chefchaouen was a disappointment in terms of the weather, I’m still glad I went and was able to see at least a bit of the city. I was able to imagine what it could be —what it usually is —a beautiful hilly town in the mountains, where everything is painted blue, where you can get incredible photos. Guess I will just have to come back!

Most importantly, I met someone there that I never would have run into otherwise. I certainly don’t believe in fate, nor do I believe that everything happens for a reason, but I’ve also come to realize that the world has been giving me what I need at just the right moment I need it, and not a moment earlier or later. I don’t think this is a higher power; more than anything, I think it’s me. It’s been out there all this time, and I’m just not going to see it until I’m ready to receive what it can teach me.

Okay, this was super vague, so let me explain. I was still having a really hard time dealing with the kitten situation, and the animal situation in general. And then in Chefchaouen, I started talking to an English guy working at the hostel. When I asked him why he was living here, he kind of got a little embarrassed, and then said, “because of a kitten I found.” I was like…that’s incredible. And then he told me his whole story of how he found a sick little kitten that was missing an eye and tried his best to take care of her, and once he let her back to where he picked her up, he never found her again. It ate him up inside, and he just wanted to help, but he realized (in much the same way I did) that there are literally no resources to help animals in Morocco. There is literally one privately run shelter up in Tangier, and that’s it. So after this guy traveled a bit more, he moved back to Morocco to start figuring out how to start a shelter. Right now it’s in the tough stages because he needs to find a place to rent and figure out the legal stuff; once that’s done, he’s relatively confident he can raise the money and keep it running, especially because Chefchaouen is such a tourist town.

All of this really resonated with me, especially because one of the things that he brought up was that no one – especially tourists – seems to care. But I care, so much. And I have never met anyone else that cares about the animals the same way I do until I met this guy. We exchanged information, and I hope I’ll be able to help him with his mission.

The rest of my time in Chefchaouen remained pretty uneventful. Most people there just sit around and smoke weed, but unfortunately for me, I don’t like what weed does to me. I played some cards with the friends I had traveled there with (I learned how to play Shithead – so fun!) and…went out to get dinner. Super exciting stuff. OOH except I met a cat and her tiny kitten in the restaurant and bonded with some locals over how CUTE THEY WERE.

The next morning after breakfast I went with a German girl to the bus ticket office to see if we could get on the 10:30 bus to Fez. Things in Morocco are not clearly marked, and after stopping in about five different place, we finally found the office. But we couldn’t get tickets there, because the computer was down. Of course. SO we had to go all the way to the bus station and hope they still had tickets left. We cut it really close – we arrived with only ten minutes or so to spare, but they luckily had enough for the group of four of us. As it turns out, we needn’t have rushed, because the bus didn’t get there until about 10:50. (Please note that I used the word “needn’t” in a sentence.)

Upon arrival in Fez, I split a cab to my hostel with a couple of American girls that I met on the bus. Well, first we asked about eight taxi drivers what they were charging (we got everything between 50 and 100 Durhams – way too much). Eventually we found a guy that offered 30, and we didn’t even bother to haggle because that was a fair price and only about a euro apiece. The girls were super cool, and we all ended up in the same room together which was sweet, and then when I went out to walk around, I ran into them eating dinner, so I joined.

There was this little eleven-year-old local boy who started talking to us, and I couldn’t decide if he was one of the cutest, funniest things ever, or almost scary in his confidence. He had tons of attitude, spoke a bit aggressively sometimes, and seemed to think he knew everything. But it was more than just this. He had the beginnings of the same kind of attitude that so many of the disrespectful men in this country have: arrogant, rude, and entitled to whatever he wants. And not to be all Judge Judy over here, but it gave me insight into why men are they way they are here. It starts from such a young age; it’s what’s expected.

Earlier in the week, I happened upon a school as the children were just getting out for the day. They were running and screaming and hugging each other, and it was delightful – until I walked by a group of boys, around the same age as this other kid, eleven or twelve. They all started trying to talk to me, objectify me. At the age of twelve. I’m more than twice their age, and they still had the confidence to say to me “you have nice eyes” and “you’re so beautiful.” Like, great, I’m glad your kids are so confident, but a) it’s only the boys and b) that’s gross, sorry. I feel like I’m not explaining myself well here, but it really bothered me because I felt like the boys just weren’t taught to respect women. The end.

The rain finally caught up with us in Fez, so I headed back to the hostel to do adult things like shower and wash my hair for the first time in a week. While I was there, I learned that one of the unofficial hostel cats had just had babies in the two days I was away, so I snuck upstairs to the cupboard where they were to look at them. THEY WERE SO TINY. It was incredible to see all their colorings and markings already, even though they were only about a day old. Then I ordered my airport taxi through the hostel, and went to bed early.

This morning, my airport taxi was supposed to arrive at 8:30. At 8:45, it still wasn’t there -which didn’t surprise me because this kind of thing seems to be a trend in Morocco. Still, I wanted to check to make sure it was coming, so I asked the manager to call the company. Turns out that after I had booked the taxi through the hostel, they had FORGOTTEN TO CALL TO BOOK IT. Even though I paid them a deposit and everything. Like. What. Luckily, I had given myself tons of extra time at the airport because I heard that you sometimes need it here, and they ordered me a new one that came about 20 minutes later. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT, GUYS. The regular taxis aren’t licensed to go that far, and the bus is unreliable, so literally the only way to get to the airport is this special taxi. GOOD THING I GAVE MYSELF SO MUCH EXTRA TIME.

Anyway. I’m at the airport now, heading to Barcelona for my last few days. I’m mostly just excited to be able to drink the tap water and also maybe to be able to flush my toilet paper once in awhile.

Even though I’m sitting still, here in the Fez airport during my last hour or so in Morocco, my mind is swirling with all kinds of thoughts. Morocco has been such an experience. I never thought I would go somewhere like this completely on my own, and I’m so glad I pushed through my fear and just did it.That’s one of the many things I’m learning, even though I might have “known” it already, it didn’t really hit me until I let myself do it: doing things I’m scared to do will make me so much less scared in the future. I feel like I can do anything now. After some of the shit I’ve dealt with and come out victorious on the other side, I feel like I can go anywhere alone. How can anything in the world scare me now that I’ve done what I’ve done?

Even though Chefchaouen was a disappointment in terms of the weather, I’m still glad I went and was able to see at least a bit of the city. I was able to imagine what it could be —what it usually is —a beautiful hilly town in the mountains, where everything is painted blue, where you can get incredible photos. Guess I will just have to come back!

Most importantly, I met someone there that I never would have run into otherwise. I certainly don’t believe in fate, nor do I believe that everything happens for a reason, but I’ve also come to realize that the world has been giving me what I need at just the right moment I need it, and not a moment earlier or later. I don’t think this is a higher power; more than anything, I think it’s me. It’s been out there all this time, and I’m just not going to see it until I’m ready to receive what it can teach me.

Okay, this was super vague, so let me explain. I was still having a really hard time dealing with the kitten situation, and the animal situation in general. And then in Chefchaouen, I started talking to an English guy working at the hostel. When I asked him why he was living here, he kind of got a little embarrassed, and then said, “because of a kitten I found.” I was like…that’s incredible. And then he told me his whole story of how he found a sick little kitten that was missing an eye and tried his best to take care of her, and once he let her back to where he picked her up, he never found her again. It ate him up inside, and he just wanted to help, but he realized (in much the same way I did) that there are literally no resources to help animals in Morocco. There is literally one privately run shelter up in Tangier, and that’s it. So after this guy traveled a bit more, he moved back to Morocco to start figuring out how to start a shelter. Right now it’s in the tough stages because he needs to find a place to rent and figure out the legal stuff; once that’s done, he’s relatively confident he can raise the money and keep it running, especially because Chefchaouen is such a tourist town.

All of this really resonated with me, especially because one of the things that he brought up was that no one – especially tourists – seems to care. But I care, so much. And I have never met anyone else that cares about the animals the same way I do until I met this guy. We exchanged information, and I hope I’ll be able to help him with his mission.

The rest of my time in Chefchaouen remained pretty uneventful. Most people there just sit around and smoke weed, but unfortunately for me, I don’t like what weed does to me. I played some cards with the friends I had traveled there with (I learned how to play Shithead – so fun!) and…went out to get dinner. Super exciting stuff. OOH except I met a cat and her tiny kitten in the restaurant and bonded with some locals over how CUTE THEY WERE.

The next morning after breakfast I went with a German girl to the bus ticket office to see if we could get on the 10:30 bus to Fez. Things in Morocco are not clearly marked, and after stopping in about five different place, we finally found the office. But we couldn’t get tickets there, because the computer was down. Of course. SO we had to go all the way to the bus station and hope they still had tickets left. We cut it really close – we arrived with only ten minutes or so to spare, but they luckily had enough for the group of four of us. As it turns out, we needn’t have rushed, because the bus didn’t get there until about 10:50. (Please note that I used the word “needn’t” in a sentence.)

Upon arrival in Fez, I split a cab to my hostel with a couple of American girls that I met on the bus. Well, first we asked about eight taxi drivers what they were charging (we got everything between 50 and 100 Durhams – way too much). Eventually we found a guy that offered 30, and we didn’t even bother to haggle because that was a fair price and only about a euro apiece. The girls were super cool, and we all ended up in the same room together which was sweet, and then when I went out to walk around, I ran into them eating dinner, so I joined.

There was this little eleven-year-old local boy who started talking to us, and I couldn’t decide if he was one of the cutest, funniest things ever, or almost scary in his confidence. He had tons of attitude, spoke a bit aggressively sometimes, and seemed to think he knew everything. But it was more than just this. He had the beginnings of the same kind of attitude that so many of the disrespectful men in this country have: arrogant, rude, and entitled to whatever he wants. And not to be all Judge Judy over here, but it gave me insight into why men are they way they are here. It starts from such a young age; it’s what’s expected.

Earlier in the week, I happened upon a school as the children were just getting out for the day. They were running and screaming and hugging each other, and it was delightful – until I walked by a group of boys, around the same age as this other kid, eleven or twelve. They all started trying to talk to me, objectify me. At the age of twelve. I’m more than twice their age, and they still had the confidence to say to me “you have nice eyes” and “you’re so beautiful.” Like, great, I’m glad your kids are so confident, but a) it’s only the boys and b) that’s gross, sorry. I feel like I’m not explaining myself well here, but it really bothered me because I felt like the boys just weren’t taught to respect women. The end.

The rain finally caught up with us in Fez, so I headed back to the hostel to do adult things like shower and wash my hair for the first time in a week. While I was there, I learned that one of the unofficial hostel cats had just had babies in the two days I was away, so I snuck upstairs to the cupboard where they were to look at them. THEY WERE SO TINY. It was incredible to see all their colorings and markings already, even though they were only about a day old. Then I ordered my airport taxi through the hostel, and went to bed early.

This morning, my airport taxi was supposed to arrive at 8:30. At 8:45, it still wasn’t there -which didn’t surprise me because this kind of thing seems to be a trend in Morocco. Still, I wanted to check to make sure it was coming, so I asked the manager to call the company. Turns out that after I had booked the taxi through the hostel, they had FORGOTTEN TO CALL TO BOOK IT. Even though I paid them a deposit and everything. Like. What. Luckily, I had given myself tons of extra time at the airport because I heard that you sometimes need it here, and they ordered me a new one that came about 20 minutes later. BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT, GUYS. The regular taxis aren’t licensed to go that far, and the bus is unreliable, so literally the only way to get to the airport is this special taxi. GOOD THING I GAVE MYSELF SO MUCH EXTRA TIME.

Anyway. I’m at the airport now, heading to Barcelona for my last few days. I’m mostly just excited to be able to drink the tap water and also maybe to be able to flush my toilet paper once in awhile.