Anne Marie Heywood, A Weekend in Marrakech
My most wide-opening experience abroad revealed itself with two weeks left when I decided to hop on a plane to Marrakech, Morocco. I never experienced the infamous “culture shock” of abroad, most likely because Western Europe shares many similarities with the United States. Morocco, on the other hand, was unchartered territory. I knew Moroccan culture was “different” but could have never prepared for the moment our driver stopped in the middle of a dirt road, said “we’re here”, and opened the sliding doors. To my left, two donkeys stood still while two men loaded their carts. To my right, a rundown building for an unknown purpose. Ahead, donkey carts and bikes racing toward me. Behind, cars and motorcycles weaving between the donkey carts and bikes. Me? Plastered against the van unsure how this was the best place to stop. Regardless, I had no choice but to put one foot in front of each other and join the weaving chaos until reaching Riad Equity Point. Young, middle-aged and elderly locals all navigated their way through the hectic streets on foot, donkeys, bikes and cars.
I stepped into a local rug store to escape the chaos for a moment. The shop owner presented his best rugs, each handmade and one-of-a-kind. He transitioned between English and Arabic fluidly, depending on who he was addressing. Later, a couple entered the shop and he instantly switched to French. Noticing my awe, he turned to me and said, “Do you want to hear something you won’t believe? I can’t read or write. But I can speak five languages.” My privilege to attend Santa Clara University shone bright in that rug store as I remembered education is not universal, and it ought to be. I returned to Barcelona with a greater appreciation for every minute spent learning in and out of the classroom. Education is a gift that must become a norm.
