He just laughed as he turned the wheel with ease at the last possible second to avoid the car in front of us. He found my fear hilarious and I suppose somewhat charming. And so I knew he would continue to drive 160+ kph on that beach highway narrowly avoiding collisions with every "slow" car he passed, since it entertained him to see my reactions. This is what I had gotten myself into that weekend in Rabat, and I loved it.
I suppose this post serves as a sequel to the post about Casa Blanca from 2 months ago. In my post about Casa Blanca, I mentioned meeting a cadet from the Meknes Military Academy on the train. Well, as it turns out, I kept in contact with that cadet since we had so much in common, both being cadets at our respective countries' military academies. I will call him Kamal (another very common Moroccan name) for the sake of this post. Kamal and I talked on social media for many weeks after our first meeting on the train, comparing lives at our respective military academies and helping each other with our languages. Kamal was majoring in English at the army academy, so our friendship grew easily and naturally.
I met Kamal for the first time in person on the same day as I saw Mohamed for the last time (from the "The Murky Waters of Human Relations"). And so naturally I was wary of spending time with Moroccan men. However, Kamal surprised me. We had so much in common and it became very clear to me that Kamal was a fundamentally good person with good intentions. I found it interesting that even though our countries were so different, it seemed as though cadets were the same breed of person world-wide. Kamal expressed a strong reluctance at the thought of returning to his academy every weekend on Sunday night. He always stressed about his uniform and looked forward to sleeping in and not shaving his face on the weekends. He showed me pictures of him working basic training as our equivalent of a flight commander over the summer. I saw perfect SAMI beds in his pictures and him yelling at the basics. The only difference was, at his academy there were only male cadets. So he found it fascinating that I was a female cadet at my Air Force Academy and we never ran out of things to talk about online or in person.
Kamal lived in Rabat, the capital city of Morocco, but studied in Meknes were the army academy was. He had hinted in passing several times that I should come visit Rabat one weekend, and he would be my tour guide. At first, the idea seemed insane to me. Why would I want to travel by myself to a city I had never been to before to spend time with a Moroccan cadet I barely knew? But after a few more weeks of friendship, I was really warming up to the idea. Kamal told me all the ways that Rabat was so much better than Meknes, and that I really needed to visit. So as my curiosity to see Morocco's capital city grew as a reflection of my growing fondness for Kamal, I decided I would take Kamal up on his offer. The only problem was getting my trip approved through 4 levels of the chain of command. I could imagine the conversation: "Sir, I want to travel by myself with a Moroccan cadet to Rabat.... Yes, without the other boys in my program... No, I would stay alone in a hotel room... " etc.
It was bleak enough that I almost gave up on the idea. I spoke with the trip cadet-in-charge, who did not disguise his disdain for the proposition. He told me I shouldn't even send up a trip request for something like that. I had all but decided against the idea, until I realized that the only reason people thought this was a bad idea was because I was a woman travelling without the group. If any one of the boys had wanted to travel alone, no one would have batted an eyelash. And even though I understood that my trip CIC only had my safety in mind when he said the trip wasn't a good idea, I knew I had at least to try to get the trip approved. The thought of spending the weekend with my now-best friend here in Morocco and breaking away from the Academy group for a while was just too tempting to ignore. So I spent a whole day sending emails and making phone calls to different levels of my chain of command, until I ended up calling the defense attache here in Morocco.
I did a lot of convincing and explaining and reassuring to different authorities here in Morocco and stateside. But if there's one part of my personality that can always be relied upon, it's that I never give up when I know I want something. I can be quite ridiculous when I want something badly enough. But the more difficult the situation became, and the more it seemed like I should just throw in the towel and go with the academy boys where ever they wanted to go for the 10th straight weekend, the more determined I became to get my way. And finally, after hours of communication, I got my trip approved. I breathed a sigh of relief and felt like I had accomplished some great feat, even though it was just a tourist trip to Rabat. I just couldn't bear the thought of not being able to do something that I knew a male cadet would be allowed to do. And I don't regret my decision to go on that trip for one second.
And so it was because of my bulldog-like stubbornness that I ended up in that Toyota Corolla going 160 kph on a Rabat highway. We were blasting Moroccan and American pop tunes and chatting incessantly in a variety of languages. We were quickly developing a language hybrid between the three languages we shared (English, FusHa, and Moroccan darija), and had inside jokes that no one would ever hope to understand but us. I found myself feeling like some early 2000's tween sensation in a travel-abroad chick flick. And everything was like that the whole weekend--RomCom perfect.
Kamal and I drove all over Rabat that weekend, stopping for him to show me interesting tourist destinations and his favorite places to eat and walk on the beach. Kamal's mom called him several times, checking to make sure I was enjoying myself and that he was acting like a gentleman. I got overly excited when I understood an entire conversation between Kamal and his mom in darija over the phone. I got to meet Kamal's younger brother and it was very clear that the two of them were the best of friends. Kamal's brother drove on his motorbike to meet Kamal and I at a restaurant for dinner Saturday night. I told Kamal about my "Moroccan Bucket List" item of wanting to ride one of the motorbikes that I always saw racing around Moroccan streets. Luckily for me, Kamal was willing to oblige me. I laughed hysterically on the back of the motorbike as we drove the long way back to my hotel. I swear Kamal did everything he could to scare the jeepers out of me on that motorbike ride and I had a death grip around him the whole time.
These are the types of experiences that make me feel so incredibly blessed and lucky to live the life I live. I know that what I did might seem stupid and impractical to a lot of people reading this, but I think that's how the best (and worst) experiences come about in life. I didn't travel 5000 miles away from the safety of mommy USAFA to be as safe and secure as possible--I came here seeking experiences like the experience I had in Rabat. I also believe I've made a friendship with a member of an allied military force that could potentially prove to be invaluable some time in the future. Many people do not know that Morocco was actually the first foreign country to recognize the United States of America as a sovereign nation after the Revolutionary War with Great Britain. And I am happy I get to be a part of this long military alliance.
If there's any message I want to get across to the readers of this post it is this: don't ever give up when you know you want something. Don't let anyone tell you it's impossible or too dangerous, if it's something you know you want to do. You never know what experiences you could be missing out on if you only ever do "what makes sense." If I always followed what was easiest and safest, my life would not be nearly as rich as it has become. That isn't to say that my stubbornness won't ever bite me in the behind--it very well might. But there are somethings that are more important and more valuable than comfort and ease of life. And it's never too late to start. Time to start checking off some "bucket list" items, friends. Risks and struggles alike, it will be worth it.
بسلامة اصدقاء
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| Beach in Rabat |
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| An old ship that was turned into a restaurant that is docked to the harbor. |
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| Best part of the trip. |
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| At the mausoleum of Hassan |
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