In that respect, it reminds me a lot of Sacramento, the capital of California. The city probably has no business being the capital but for strategic reasons it is the capital. For the average visitor, there is nothing of note to see or do outside of the obvious sightseeing.

One of the many sites in Rabat which are nice but not really interesting.

Most locals in Morocco do not speak highly of Rabat because it lacks the history and character the rest of the country has. It is very European and that tends to turn people off. No one wants to see the European side of Morocco, they want to see the African side of the country.

The people in Rabat, however, more than makeup for the lack of intrigue the city contains. One chap in particular, Rachid, made the trip worthwhile.

Local antiques dealer Rachid shows us around his shop

Rachid loved Bob Marley, surfing and collecting antiques and upon first glance you would have thought he grew up in the West Indies and not Morocco. We met him in a juice shop after he overheard me and my friend speaking in English.

He managed to teach us a thing or two about Arabic and Drja, the local Moroccan dialect, and we helped him with his English. It was a win-win situation. He then proceeded to show us around his antiques shop which was incredible. How some of this stuff ended up at an antiques store in Morocco I will never know but he had some outlandish items for sale.

At the end of the day he gave me and my friend a pin to commemorate our newfound friendship. All the pins were old campaign pins from the states, but it is really a nice gesture, especially considering we did not buy anything.

Rabat may not have a whole to offer but Rachid will never be forgotten.

The Hassan II Mosque is the third largest mosque in the world and a sight to behold

The Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca is impressive to say the least. It is the third largest mosque in the world and something all people, regardless of religious background, can marvel at for its stunning architecture.

Located on the water, the mosque towers over the Atlantic ocean serving as a reminder of the significant differences across the pond. If one were to travel westward from the Hassan II Mosque to America, there would be talk of burning the Qur’an yet as an American standing at an Islamic shrine, such speech seems non-sensical.

There is a beauty in Islam one cannot deny, even if that person comes a different religion. One does not have to be a Christian to marvel at the work of Renaissance artists despite the fact most of the work deals with biblical themes.

The only downside to the Hassan II Mosque is the fact it is relatively new and seems like it is more for show than anything else. Rarely do residents of Casablanca go there for prayer and it was built more as a shrine than a mosque.

The area around the Hassan II Mosque leaves something to be desired.

The mosque was built in the 1980s and the area around it is still being developed. It is fairly erie seeing this massive holy site in a fairly inauspicious neighborhood. It would be the equivalent of the Sistine Chapel being built in some sleepy suburb of north Rome.

There is construction going on all around the mosque to vitalize the surrounding area but as of right now it is most people are bussed in to take a tour of the mosque and then whisked away to a more friendly area of Casablanca. The Hassan II Mosque is a brilliant place to visit but upon retrospect lacks the character of other Moroccan historical sights.

My hand full of small thorns. It hurts a little bit.

Yesterday, whilst playing soccer, I fell down on bush that was covered in thorns. At the time, I noticed a stinging sensation but brushed them off since we already down a goal and time in the game was running out.

Last night, however, I noticed there was still a little pain and the thorns were still stuck in and agitating my skin. I spelt on it hoping everything would be better in the morning but it was not.

I did not have the time, or desire, to remove them this morning and have been since laboring around with my right hand in pain. It would not be so bad but every time you run into a person you know there is an obligation for some sort of hand contact.

Rather it be a hand shake or high-five, I can not avoid having people touch my thorn covered hand. In a simple 20-minute walk to the cafe, I saw seven people I knew and all seven times there was some sort of hand contact. I tried using my left hand once but it was so awkward that it was not even worth trying again.

It was the first time I realized just how important one’s hand is in greeting people in Morocco. They are a people who enjoy their high-fives and hand shakes.

The most recent encounter of this hospitality came from a family that raises and maintains horses in Meknes. They also happen to be champions horse riders. The father, two of his daughters and one of his sons have all been recognized for their exploits in horseback riding.

Youngest daughter Meryam shows off her champion horseback riding skills

Seeing Meryam run up onto a horse and perform a dazzling set of tricks which would make most people queasy was a sight to be seen. The father Rachid, but who we all have taken to call Baba (Arabic for father), gave us all lessons on riding horses.

Baba, with family dog Rosa in tow, take one of the horses back to the stables

However, the hospitality did not end there. We were welcomes with open arms to share tea with the family and have discussions which ranged from tattoos to Meryam’s love of Real Madrid midfielder Kaka. It felt like being a part of the family.

It can be easy to become isolated when you do not speak the native language but somethings are universal. Some of the family spoke English while some of us spoke French and Arabic, Baba had a right laugh at me trying to count to ten in Arabic, but communication occurs naturally.

Rachid's granddaughter enjoyed having a few new faces to play with.

Rachid’s granddaughter did not need to know any English to play patty-cake, it is one of those things all kids learn. Sharing laughs, including Baba mimicking my sheer terror of being on the horse, is a universal feeling which can not help but make one feel welcomed.

It may not have been home but Rachid and his family made us feel as if we were home.

Studying abroad has caused life to evolve into a series of random adventures. For some, this life can be disjointed but for those with a sense of adventure, it is a magnificent way to live.

In America most things seem mundane. A walk from point A to B is always that and nothing more. Being abroad turns even the most routine activities into something more.

My week started with a trip running errands around town with a plasterer named Said. I had just met him and we ended with kite surfing in Spain. All of these events happened on a whim and highlight one of the most important aspects of studying abroad.

A person has to be willing to connect with the culture and its people regardless of barriers. The most profound barrier is normally the language, which can make communication difficult.

However, between the handful of Arabic and French phrases I know combined with drawings and hand gestures, everything seemed to work out.

A friend and I were walking home one day from class and stumbled upon Said plastering at a local construction site. Eager to get a closer look at the intricate work we walked right in — safety is not exactly priority in Morocco.

Said works on the intricate plastering pattern for building in Meknes. The process will take nearly two years to complete.

Said spoke very limited English but was more than eager to show us his work. A garbled combination of Arabic, French, English and hand signals allowed us to communicate back and forth.

We found out that he had been working on the plaster for two years on what would become a wedding chapel. The detail in the designs was amazing, a quality not seen in the States.

A closer look at the dome of what is to become a place of weddings and other family gatherings.

The adventure did not end there. Moroccans are quite hospitable and our new friend insisted on giving us a ride home. Entering the car we had no idea where things would lead but went with the flow.

After running a few errands with Said, which included making photocopies and picking up his son from school, he dropped us off. It was an incredible experience and a new friend was made despite having no common language.

A random trip around Meknes was just the start. Around 2 p.m. last Friday we decided to head to the train station for a weekend excursion with no destination in mind.

The first train to arrive was bound for Tangiers and we decided it would be nice to head to Spain. During the train ride we met a colorful Moroccan couple on the way to visit family in the city.

Despite speaking limited English, the couple helped us find cheap accommodations and offered to show us around the city. It is hard to imagine such a thing happening in America.

On Saturday we arrived in Spain, where more adventures awaited. The city we visited in Spain was called Tarifia and was known for its kite surfing.

After a whirlwind week, we made it back to Morocco with new friends, new stories and better understanding of the region. There is no need to have a grasp on the language because a sense of adventure will suffice.

There is no point in going abroad if you don’t interact with locals because that is the most important aspect of being outside America. Refusing to embrace the country’s culture is the equivalent of going to the supermarket and bringing your own groceries.

Limitless possibilities exist when studying abroad but you must be willing to go where the wind takes you. Sometimes the best plan is having no plan at all.

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It is just a fire near some power lines about 100 feet away from the apartment...that is not a big deal at all.

Sometimes I worry that i just may be taking on too many of the characteristics of my host country. Moroccans tend to ignore almost anything regardless of how dangerous it is.

It is not the worst trait to have – Americans get far too worried far too easily. However, after laughing at a fire burning within spiting distance from my apartment I think I may have lost all common sense when it regards danger.

Tuesday night before bed a quick glance out the window showed fire blazing near some power lines on the street. Instead of dialing Moroccan 9-1-1 or trying to find someone to stop it, we started laughing and taking pictures.

About 10 minutes later the fire department came and extinguished the blaze and no one seemed to care. Far different than the fanfare fires receive in America.

If this were to have occurred in the states, it would have been an ordeal complete with coverage on the 11 o’clock news. If anything it shows just how desensitized one can become to something which causes so fear back in home when abroad.

Will I call someone the next time I see a fire burning near my apartment? I can honestly say I don’t really know. This is Morocco…fires, much like owning barnyard animals in the city, just happen.

After a good burn, the fire was doused by the Meknes Fire Department