Carla, Shelby and I resided in the beautiful home of Abdullah, Hajirah, Lamira and Maya for our Azrou homestay.
Our host family adopted us excited to share a homemade meal, the best food we had in Morocco, and show us our comfy beds to fall into.
The beds were converted from their decorative plush Moroccan couches, which outlined most of the rooms in the house.
Our host sisters and father traveled to many of our programs with us and were always there to help with a translation or show us the best shops or anything else that we needed really.
Our host mother was mysteriously wonderful. She fed us past fulfillment with some of my favorite dishes on the trip and was constantly sharing hugs and smiles.
Living with a family of an unknown world provided an insight that no tour guide or travel book could have satisfied. I wanted to do homestays for the rest of the trip after our experience there.
At least I thought that until the day we had to say goodbye to our Moroccan family.
If I had to get myself through another intense emotional detachment as that one, I would be inconsolable through the trip. A sudden rush of gratitude and affection swarmed me the day we had to leave.
Sadly, we had to rush our goodbyes when leaving their house, because our group was running late.
Abdullah wanted to show us his carpenter shop next door, but we didn’t have time. We had to pluck our laundry from the clotheslines on the roof terrace in such a hurry that Hajirah just gave up on folding them for us as she laughed.
Abdullah slowed us down before leaving. He said that if we were to return to Morocco including any family member of ours, we are always welcome in his home. Then multiple times he said he would miss us.
I learned then that simple phrases have the largest impact when that is all you have to express the amount of emotion and appreciation you want to say.
On that tearful note, we tumbled down the stairs and tossed our stuff on the bus and gave the warmest hugs we could in short time. It was a strange feeling as if I was saying goodbye to my own parents before going off on new adventures.
A few days later, a group of us were eating ice cream on the streets of Rabat our last night in Morocco when Lotfi, our coordinator for the Moroccan part of the trip, received a call.
He smiled and handed me the phone.
Abdullah’s voice came over the speaker and in French he wished us a safe flight and to say goodbye one more time. After tearing up, again, and saying my own goodbye, I passed the phone to Carla.
Lotfi’s lovely smile bloomed as he said Abdullah called asking to talk to his daughters one more time before we left Morocco.
Our host family adopted us excited to share a homemade meal, the best food we had in Morocco, and show us our comfy beds to fall into.
The beds were converted from their decorative plush Moroccan couches, which outlined most of the rooms in the house.
Our host sisters and father traveled to many of our programs with us and were always there to help with a translation or show us the best shops or anything else that we needed really.
Our host mother was mysteriously wonderful. She fed us past fulfillment with some of my favorite dishes on the trip and was constantly sharing hugs and smiles.
Living with a family of an unknown world provided an insight that no tour guide or travel book could have satisfied. I wanted to do homestays for the rest of the trip after our experience there.
At least I thought that until the day we had to say goodbye to our Moroccan family.
If I had to get myself through another intense emotional detachment as that one, I would be inconsolable through the trip. A sudden rush of gratitude and affection swarmed me the day we had to leave.
Sadly, we had to rush our goodbyes when leaving their house, because our group was running late.
Abdullah wanted to show us his carpenter shop next door, but we didn’t have time. We had to pluck our laundry from the clotheslines on the roof terrace in such a hurry that Hajirah just gave up on folding them for us as she laughed.
Abdullah slowed us down before leaving. He said that if we were to return to Morocco including any family member of ours, we are always welcome in his home. Then multiple times he said he would miss us.
I learned then that simple phrases have the largest impact when that is all you have to express the amount of emotion and appreciation you want to say.
On that tearful note, we tumbled down the stairs and tossed our stuff on the bus and gave the warmest hugs we could in short time. It was a strange feeling as if I was saying goodbye to my own parents before going off on new adventures.
A few days later, a group of us were eating ice cream on the streets of Rabat our last night in Morocco when Lotfi, our coordinator for the Moroccan part of the trip, received a call.
He smiled and handed me the phone.
Abdullah’s voice came over the speaker and in French he wished us a safe flight and to say goodbye one more time. After tearing up, again, and saying my own goodbye, I passed the phone to Carla.
Lotfi’s lovely smile bloomed as he said Abdullah called asking to talk to his daughters one more time before we left Morocco.
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