Wandering Around

During my last winter break, I embarked on a month long trip by myself that took me through Morocco and Spain before returning to Paris to start the final term of my exchange program. Surprisingly, the many hours I spent on transit between places are some of the most memorable experiences of my journey.

The most excruciating trip was the train ride from Marrakesh to Fez. It lasts about 8 hours and the way it best fit in my schedule was to leave in the morning, meaning I was on the train all day. Coming from the US, train travel remains a great novelty for me so I was very excited when I first boarded. I entered the train and picked the cabin that seemed the coziest.

The train set off and I sat in trance for the first hour taking in scenery of the Moroccan countryside. After going through Casablanca, Morocco’s largest city, the train got packed. All of the seating was taken. Even remaining personal space diminished due to the number of passengers that had taken standing room. There were still about 5 hours remaining.

I would normally get annoyed in such a situation, but what truly gripped me was the sense of isolation. I was noticeably foreign. From the way I look to how I was dressed, I clearly did not belong. The fact that most of the other passengers were traveling with some family members reinforced the loneliness, as I could not help but think of my family, in particular my mother. She has the tragic misfortune of financing my travels, but not partaking. How would she see Morocco? Would she have been equally astounded upon seeing the glowing red aura of Marrakesh? Would she have been just as frightened if we had gotten lost for hours in the medina?

I followed my curiosity as I started to wonder about my fellow passengers. How do they perceive the people, culture, and scenes of their country? How did they see me? Questions of perspective filled my thoughts for the remainder of the trip. I was unable to answer any of them, but I no longer felt alone.