I don't quite understand how the smell of a city can simultaneously disgust and nourish me. Marrakech was spicy, sugary, and sweet, and most definitely rancid. The smells were as overwhelming as the people who lived there. I have never seen such polarizing personalities as I saw in Morocco. People were either screaming at you, cussing you out for not buying their wares and shrieking at your indifference, or they were screaming with pleasure. Yelling things like, "America number 1!" and "America so good!" There was so much yelling, so many smells, so many colors, so much life. Snake charmers, salesmen, beggars, children running, laughing, screaming, cussing. Women making tortillas, selling spices, ferociously marketing their henna designs. Men jeering or cat calling or playing cards. Men praying. Monkeys, parrots, snakes, dogs, and thousands of cats. The streets smelled like skewers of meat, hot peppers, tea, amber, mint, sandalwood, piss, sugar, rotting food, dust, sweat, baking bread, and oranges. I have never been to a place I loved or hated as much as Marrakech and I cannot wait to go back. I was also happy with our tiny group: Me, Viv, and my new friend James (Vivian's friend from high school). The three of us were able to navigate quite well together, avoiding the biggest tourist traps and more dangerous areas, while also meeting hundreds of people and seeing amazing things. I don't think I'll ever forget the deafening noise suddenly becoming a deafening silence when I witnessed a funeral wake of a dead man process down the streets in front of me; it was so beautiful and so foreign

. I am infinitely glad that I went to Morocco, and I can't wait to return.