There and Back Again
Tonight, as I finished scarfing down a quarter of a chicken with fries around 9pm with the mother here in Rabat, I had one of those "I can't believe I was there today!"-type moments.
This morning, I was roaming the Roman ruins of Volubilis, situated 33km outside of Meknes. Looking out over the amazing Meditteranean countryside (Gabe, my Mom and I all swore it could have been Tuscany), I had one of the most peaceful and de-stressed times I've been able to manage here. It was something about the combination of the history of the place, the beauty of the surroundings, and the knowledge that this would be one of my final days in Morocco that added up to a surprisingly reflective experience.
It's said that when the British transported Greek ruins back to England, the poet John Keats looked at the ruins like "a sick eagle looking at the sky." Although my reaction wasn't quite so poetic, there's something about treading through ancient streets that gives one a sense of permanence and impermanence here. There's a sense of tangibility that everyone always craves - to be in what's familiar, to touch, to hold, or to be near someone. At the same time, as evidenced by the rock-strewn landscape, devoid of the original Roman Carrera marble (it was plundered by the Sultan Moulay Ismail for his grand palace in Meknes in the 18th century), in the grand scheme of things, nothing lasts forever. Be it my trip to Morocco, or even what's left of my 20s, 30s, etc. Being here has really taught me how to hold on to what I can, remember what I can't, and hopefully gain some perspective on what I should value in the future.
This morning, I was roaming the Roman ruins of Volubilis, situated 33km outside of Meknes. Looking out over the amazing Meditteranean countryside (Gabe, my Mom and I all swore it could have been Tuscany), I had one of the most peaceful and de-stressed times I've been able to manage here. It was something about the combination of the history of the place, the beauty of the surroundings, and the knowledge that this would be one of my final days in Morocco that added up to a surprisingly reflective experience.
It's said that when the British transported Greek ruins back to England, the poet John Keats looked at the ruins like "a sick eagle looking at the sky." Although my reaction wasn't quite so poetic, there's something about treading through ancient streets that gives one a sense of permanence and impermanence here. There's a sense of tangibility that everyone always craves - to be in what's familiar, to touch, to hold, or to be near someone. At the same time, as evidenced by the rock-strewn landscape, devoid of the original Roman Carrera marble (it was plundered by the Sultan Moulay Ismail for his grand palace in Meknes in the 18th century), in the grand scheme of things, nothing lasts forever. Be it my trip to Morocco, or even what's left of my 20s, 30s, etc. Being here has really taught me how to hold on to what I can, remember what I can't, and hopefully gain some perspective on what I should value in the future.
posted by Isaac at 3:12 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home