Coming home


We spent a few glorious days camping in Southern France. It’s a great story (especially the canoe biff on the rapids) but isn’t today’s.

On the return trip through Spain, we began to see signs on the autoroute in Arabic and see cars that were packed high. Though we were hours away from the ferry crossing (Spain is just north of Morocco and separated by the Mediterranean Sea), we realized that we were not the only ones returning home.

This is a well-travelled path for those Moroccans that live and work in Europe. Many of our neighbors have relatives that live in England, Belgium, France, etc., so we are well aware of those family members who are missed. As we travelled along (slowly, due to having car trouble…a story for another day!) we passed a car with an oven strapped to the top. We heard a friendly horn honk from a car who passed us as they saw our Moroccan license plate. We felt like we were part of this summer homecoming as we neared the ferry.

Everything–including the kitchen sink. Do you see it?!

When Moroccans who live abroad return, they usually come bearing gifts. There are probably multiple motives for these gifts–the generosity of their hearts, status in showing that they have a good enough job to buy presents, cheaper prices on quality things, not wanting to shame their family, obligation, and love.

They made it!  The car with the stove that we saw 3 hours ago on the road.They made it! The car with the stove that we saw 3 hours ago on the road.


The line waiting to drive into the ferry.


And we are off! This is probably as close to taking a cruise as I’ll get, so I enjoy standing on the deck and feeling the breeze and taking in the sights (about an hour ride). That is the rock of Gibraltar in the distance.

DSC_0694As we crossed over onto Moroccan soil, the day was ending. How appropriate for reentering “the land of the setting sun.”


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