Morocco; a mystery

In less than 2 days time, Lucy and I will be embarking on a journey to an entirely different continent.  Morocco makes the 8th country I have visited, making Africa the third continent in which I have set foot.  It is hardly imaginable at the moment, that I will finally be taking a journey I have long awaited, so much so, that its dream-like quality rivals that of my moments before moving to France.  By this point, I have become accustomed to life in the western world, be it France or America. These countries no doubt have their jolting cultural differences, but I am ecstatic to have the opportunity to experience a culture for which Christianity is not foundation, and english is not one of the two main languages.  Morocco is very much a mystery to me, a sort of exotic fairy-tale land.


From photographs, I have gathered an image of its culture as one snatched from history and transplanted in the modern world. Cars are forbidden and donkeys are common; food is cooked using ancient techniques and colorful pottery; leather is dyed in natural elements and worked into the hide with hand and foot.  The people speak a language that I seem entirely incapable of pronouncing, and I find my tongue exhausted with frustration and jealousy at its incapacity to create the musical tones known as the Arabic language.  Carpets for sale coat the walls of streets, their colors rivaled by the nearly over-stimulating tile designs covering almost every other surface.  The sights and sounds of the local market are more than welcomed by the senses, yet sanctuary is only one side-street away, where a hidden niche-of-a-café serves calming mint tea, toujours fait maison.

This dream is about to become reality.....someone pinch me please.