Journey to Fez: The Unspoken Lessons of Connection
It is 7am in the Saharan Desert and I just dismounted a camel named Mini Cooper. Today there is one destination in mind: Fez. Anticipated travel time: seven hours. Buckle up! Except we can’t…the seatbelts are broken in the backseat. One taxi. Three Americans. Two Germans. One Moroccan driver. The space between us clashes with a symphony of Arabic, French, German, and English, a sound both beautiful and intimidating. My rusty French and the driver's nonexistent English create a delightful communication barrier. The first two hours are spent asleep, our necks hanging at deathly angles and our mouths catching flies. We are jolted awake by a sudden stop and followed by a consuming cloud of dust. “COFFEE,” our driver exclaims. There is no confusion about the intention of this stop–we are all in need. Thirty minutes of browsing leads me to the back of the store - a mother cat and her kitten nestled together. The entire shop seemed to gravitate towards them, their pitches raising as they...