I never had the opportunity to travel growing up. As one of eight children, I had never even stepped on a plane before my sophomore year of college. Hence, embarking on an international flight, by myself, with a final destination in a country whose language I didn’t speak, was daunting, to say the least. Despite this, I’m so thankful I had the opportunity to do so because I otherwise would have never taken a trip to Morocco.

With a flight costing sixty euros roundtrip from my home in Spain, I remember excitedly thinking about how I was going to gain another international experience for the cost of what a semester before would have been a day trip to St. Louis. Instead, three of my close friends and I caught a plane to the beautiful city of Marrakesh, a bustling and diverse imperial city in western Morocco. The four days I spent in the “Magical Red City” were indeed magical. I was blown away by the traditional architecture and cultural beauty: from the glorious, spiritually captivating mosques, to the ever-confusing winding alleys of the city market, to the intricate patterns and vibrant colors of every traditional Moroccan decor piece I saw. We spent our few short days combing through what we could, only taking breaks to drink copious amounts of tea and eat ungodly amounts of tajine. The people we encountered were exceptionally kind and gracious, and a combination of both our local guides and random street vendors made the trip not only possible, but incredible (and they never let us leave empty-handed).

For two days of our trip, my friends and I decided to go with a local guide to a camp outside the city. A long six-hour van drive later, we found ourselves perched on top of camels as we waltzed, somewhat clumsily, into the Sahara desert. Along our route, we learned much of Morocco’s history, and we passed through many small villages along the way. After seeing the sunset on top of our camels, we eventually arrived at a quiet campsite nestled between two impressive sand dunes. A small but carefully constructed traditional site was laid out for us, and we spent the night with locals who had built the camp to show tourists the traditional ways of their lives. They prepared us the food they had grown up with and showed us songs and dances that were special to them and their rich history that had been so long in the making. Coupled alongside other international tourists who quickly became our friends, we spent the rest of our time bonding with the Hollanders, Frenchmen, and Moroccans in our group. A truly unique and beautiful experience, we gazed at the stars from a sand dune after hours of dinner and dance. As our night came to a close, I remember laying in my bed in a traditional Moroccan tent, in a captivating campsite in the Sahara desert, in the magnificent country of Morocco, and feeling incredibly thankful. For not only having the opportunity to travel, but for having the opportunity to experience such a glorious country and its rich culture.