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Morocco consists of incredible landscapes, vibrant towns, delicious, complex food, and friendly kids that will win you over with charm. My wife and I were resting after visiting Aït Benhaddou. The day was ending, with coffee shops holding very few locals, as most of the tourists had already left. Wandering through paths of the ancient bazaar had left us tired, but curious enough to carry on. Arid, sand-filled streets scuffled with footprints, led us down to the only school in the area. The school ground was clouded with dust from the scurried movements of tiny feet, some bare. School kids played soccer with a makeshift ball, a ravaged plastic bottle. We humbly watched, reminiscing to our younger days when simple objects used to entertain. I'd recalled seeing a small store (one of the those that carry almost every item imaginable in order to cater to tourists) with soccer balls hanging at the front door. We walked back hoping it was still open, and were pleased to see the the old keeper standing by the entrance waiting for patrons. I pointed at the ball above his head and asked how much in very nondescript Arabic...something I don’t remember today. The price ended up being a ridiculously low amount, which made me think about how it was un-affordable to some of the families, there were more necessary things in life. We walked back with excitement, tearing off the net that encircled the ball. The school kids were still there. I slowly walked up with the ball in my hand, pointing at it as I got the attention from my future teammates. My gestures to come and play were easily understood. The plastic bottle was discarded as I dropped the ball and kicked it to the closest teammate. The kids quickly reshuffled and adjusted to the new equipment and member of the team. As if a coach hollered from the sidelines, their new objectives and strategy, the shiny leathery skin of the new ball quickly turned dirty from the dusty playground. Without any words or agreement, I ended up on one of the teams. The European looking black metal gates were one goal net, while at the other end, 2 cans of soda spread out in similar distance to the gates. We played on as the summer sun set until the ball was kicked down a downward alleyway into some else’s property. Two kids went to chase, it while others dispersed in different directions, signifying the end of the game. Two of the kids came back with the ball to hand it back to me. I waved my hand in a no gesture. A gesture signifying the end and a goodbye. Both boys smiled, waved goodbye and ran off towards their homes. I think back to this every once in awhile to lift my spirits and ground me. And I wonder how many more games that ball was played with.