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This past weekend, I traded my usual routine in Rabat for a visit to Safi, where my friend and fellow Fulbrighter, Catherine, is living and teaching. The train ride was long — about five and a half hours — but it was the kind of journey that lets you settle in, read, stare out the window, and watch the landscape shift from coastal city to open fields to the quieter stretch of Morocco’s Atlantic coast. By the time I arrived, it already felt like a small adventure. Catherine wa

From my rooftop, the city feels different. Quieter, even though it isn’t. I can still hear the hum of cars, the call to prayer, the clinking of dishes from the restaurants below — but it all blurs together into background noise. Down on the street, there’s always something happening. Two restaurants side by side stay busy late into the night. Across the street, there’s a hanut , one of those small corner shops that sells everything you need — water, eggs, chips, tissues, SIM

When October rolled around here in Morocco, something felt off. Back home in Maine, this is my favorite time of year — crisp air, colorful leaves, cozy sweaters, apple picking, pumpkin carving, and every kind of fall food imaginable. But in Rabat, the traditional New England fall isn’t really a thing. There are no hayrides or cider doughnuts, no rows of pumpkins outside the grocery store, no smell of fallen leaves in the air. I found myself missing that sense of seasonal chan

Over the past several weeks, my project has started to take shape through classroom visits, conversations, and community connections. I’ve had the opportunity to speak with high schoolers, university students, teachers, professors, and women working in STEM fields. Each discussion adds a new perspective to my understanding of what influences young women’s pathways into science, technology, engineering, and mathematics in Morocco. Originally, my research focused on what was ha

If there's one thing I've learned in Morocco, it's that food isn't just something you eat - it's something you share. It's a conversation, a gesture of welcome, a sign of care. Meals here don't feel rushed. They stretch out, often over hours, with pauses for more tea, more bread, more laughter. When I first arrived, I thought a dinner invitation at 7:30 meant we would eat around 8:00. Instead, we sat down closer to 9:30 - and didn't leave until after 11. It's not about gettin

This weekend I headed north to Chefchaouen and Akchour — two places that feel like they belong in completely different worlds, yet are only an hour apart. Chefchaouen, known as the “Blue City,” really lives up to its name. The walls, doors, stairs, and even flower pots seem painted in every possible shade of blue. I spent most of my first day walking through the medina, weaving between small shops filled with traditional clothing, Moroccan trinkets, and trays of freshly baked

When I was preparing to move to Morocco, modesty came up in almost every conversation. “Make sure to bring clothes that cover your...

This weekend one of my Fulbright besties, Talia, and I took a day trip to Fes (not Fez - you will be corrected). It’s about a three-hour...