Today me and my sister – like the season veteran nomads we have become – finally moved out of our hotel for greener pastures.
Our hotel in the Jemma el Fna was an earthy hotel with a balcony overlooking the square. We were escorted on the first day of arrival by a helpful young gentleman for a modest tip. The hotel was decent with all the modern amenities you could expect in a tourist city like Marrakech.
The hotel was in fact as authentic as you can get not exactly a ryad but 10/10 for location, and service. The hotel was in fray of it all. A stone away from the historic Koutoubia mosque, and Bahia palais.
For the first few days I was encouraged to share my travels on social media but I was afflicted by something else entirely….anxiety (but back to that later).
What had brought me here was in fact deeper than what people expect a series of torments, questions that have been forming gradually pushing me over the edge like a tsunami.
From the outside it looked like eccentric Ayaan was having another one of her spontaneous trips. The story however runs deeper than you think.
All my life I have felt deeply. Growing up I was a very shy kid. The kid who would only put their hand up when absolutely necessary .You know that kid at the back of the class who only raises their hands to say something something so eye-wateringly deep you pull back the sting of a tear in your eye. Those melancholic souls that drifts through the corridors unnoticed…yeah that kid.
I always nursed secret passions, deeply held beliefs you know that kid who has the thorough political or religious stance from a young age who you think has got it all figured that one kid who would die for those beliefs.
Parents lament their intensity, teacher keep a cautious eyes out (not all, some are warmly encouraging. I had a deeply intelligent English teacher who encouraged me). These kids are unusually precocious.
I kept to mydelf.
This is where it began the restlessness for something more.