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In just a matter of ten short days, I was able to connect with different people from many parts of Africa. This is the story of the time I went to Morocco and made connections with people who had gone through much more than I could have possibly imagined. It was Monday morning in Seville, the city I studied abroad in the fall of 2019, and the bus was waiting in front of a hotel where many students in my study abroad group huddled. I remained close to the group anxiously waiting to reach the tip of Europe. About two hours had flown past when we finally reached Algeciras, the city in which we would embark on a ferry to what would still be considered Spain, Ceuta. As we boarded the ferry my mind ran wild with anticipation wondering who I would meet, what kind of scenery I would be faced with and lessons I would learn from this experience. As I finally entered the ferry I walked to the side that had a railing and saw Gibraltar becoming farther and farther away and Morocco only coming closer. Once in Ceuta, we walked to the border that divided Spain from Morocco and thus began my journey of interactions with people. In the first city we stayed in, Tanger, we received many curious looks from the men at the tea shops and businesses who wondered what foreign country we were coming from. On the same day, we went to a woman’s center that had prided itself in creating an environment that taught the local women how to read, cook and sew. Works of art were on display for all visitors to see and purchase. In the second city, Asilah, we met refugee women who migrated from the Ivory Coast and Liberia wishing to one day make it to Spain. This was the experience I was anxiously waiting for. My group and I visited another center and sat with these refugee women and listened to their heartbreaking but eye-opening stories. I did not expect to meet such courageous women who sacrificed more than what they bargained for. I did not expect to leave Morocco with an overwhelming but humbling amount of information. These women exist and they live these lives that no one chooses to live but yet they do. Their stories will forever be engrained in my soul just as the wrinkles engrained in my palms. This foreign experience was not something I had a personal connection to, but because of that trip, I am now exposed to what many go through. I traveled throughout many more cities in Morocco meeting local families that lived in much simpler villages who enjoyed the lifestyle they lived and would not change it for the world. From the refugee woman to the local villagers I was welcomed by each and everyone with open and caring arms. I did not expect to be invited into the homes nor the life stories of many, but I was.