Sherry and I recently returned from a trip to Morocco with WJC. It was simply an incredible experience and while it represented seven locations and thousands of miles, I am treating it as just two adventures (the trip itself #8 and the Dromedary ride #9). I’ll use this column to share two of the many stories.

The first goes to the purpose of the trip which was to explore the history experienced by the Jewish people in Morocco. The second is my personal journey through this trip. Read on!

The Jewish People In Morocco

My Personal Journey

When Sherry and I signed up for this trip, I had many misgivings. While I love to travel; seeing new places and meeting new people, I was concerned about several things which I did not have control over:

The purpose of this year of 65 adventures is to push me outside my comfort zone, and the cities we would visit were different that our previous trip. So, despite these misgivings, we signed up.

As it turns out, there was one more issue – I contracted a norovirus just 3 days before our scheduled departure. Luckily, my symptoms resolved before we got on the flight (and I did not pass it on to Sherry) but my body was simply exhausted.

We managed to survive the flight and the intense first day itinerary, staying up until nearly 11 the first evening despite minimal sleep. Then exhausted, we went to bed.

Like being in last place in the Amazing Race

That first morning, we failed to set an alarm, and our day began with a phone call from our tour director Ellizabeth waking us out of a sound sleep and asking if we were coming on the bus?

We felt a little like that last place couple in The Amazing Race. We scrambled to get dressed, grabbed some breakfast to eat on the run and got a taxi to meet the group, wondering quietly if we would be voted off the trip. We caught up to the group at the Hussein Mosque, which was one of the highlights of Casablanca, along with lunch at Rick’s Cafe.

It turns out that almost all of my concerns were realized. Although the restaurants did make an effort to accommodate my diet, almost all the food was served in tajines, mixed together like stew and difficult to discern. We were keeping kosher in a country with few kosher eating facilities. And worst of all, dinner did not begin until 8PM each night and did not complete till after 10. So we would be going to sleep on a full stomach each night, waking at six or seven for our next busy day.

Several of our group really liked to shop and I cannot tell you how many hours we spent in the walls of each of the Medinas (old cities).

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The amazing thing is despite all of my concerns, it was an incredibly great trip. Yes, I was tired, but for good reason. Somehow, my digestive system kept everything together. The showers were challenging and the schedule punishing, but our group gelled incredibly well, with everyone adding something to our experience together.

The tour guide, MoMo was incredibly knowledgeable and emotionally connected to the Jewish experience.

Our tour director Elizabeth was patient and adapted to the groups needs.

The locations were meaningful.

One of the most memorable moments included Friday night, when we attended services at a local Sephardic shul in Marrakesh. It always amazes me that I can follow along anywhere in the world, and feel one with the community. Sure, I faced the wrong direction when we stood for the last paragraph of L’cha Dodi, but the ruach in the room was strong and it felt like we were part of something special.

Later that night we had dinner at the home of the Yitzhak and Gloria Ohana. We ate, learned together and had an evening of song, pounding on the tables back and forth between the Moroccans and our group of American tourists. Our host seemed to glow in the energy, I was so proud of my congregation.

I also enjoyed our visit to Rabbi Pinto’s grave. Chayim Pinto was one of the founders of the Kabalist movements and we explored his home, with Synagogue above – with a quiet private prayer.

Each city was different. While I did not care for the dirty desperation of Fez, the governmental city of Rabat was exciting and contemporary. Marrakesh felt warm and inviting and Essouira could have been a town on the French Riviera. At times I felt I was in Europe and not in northern Africa.

Two adventures in one

So, this was two adventures in one. A trip exploring a part of Jewish history unknown to me before, and a introspective adventure to accept discomfort and find the joy. I am so glad we went.