Independence and self-reliance are two qualities I’ve valued for as long as I can remember. Today, I like to consider myself to have a decent amount of both. I was raised by a mom who always encouraged me to make my own decisions and gave me the responsibility of acting on them. With her careful guidance in discovering my own judgment, I feel very secure in the choices I make and the person I am today. However, as a side-effect, I suffer from a severe case of “I can do it myself” syndrome. This isn’t usually a problem and is enjoyable in most cases– such as picking up new hobbies. I’ve taught myself to crochet, skateboard, paint, and right now I’m trying to figure out the guitar. I like it this way and it’s always worked out– but that changed the moment I emerged from the Casablanca airport, and falsely gave my capabilities more credit than they deserved. My self-reliance has always been defined by American standards, and the fact that I wasn’t living in the U.S. anymore changed that definition.
The first moment of realization came when we were planning a weekend trip to Chefchaouen. Known as the Blue City, it’s nestled within the Atlas Mountains and awkwardly situated away from major roads, rail stations, or convenient bus routes. My roommates—Anna, Jaci, and I (Hi!! They read my blog)—took charge of planning transportation, organizing tickets and transfers, and getting everything under control.
Luckily, we hadn’t made any purchases before mentioning our plans to one of our program directors, Oussama. His reaction was not what we expected: “Are you joking?!” he asked, disbelief plastered on his face.
…Not exactly the response we wanted. But this also meant Oussama had a simple, not-complicated-at-all solution to our problem, right? Wow! We were silly for not seeing it sooner!
Wrong. As it turned out, the best way to get to Chefchaouen from Meknes was also complex—and something we couldn’t have figured out on our own: a series of public taxis from one station to another. And then another. We had dismissed the idea of taxis early on, assuming they were too expensive based on pre-booked private taxi prices. But by following Oussama’s advice, we reached our destination without breaking the bank.
Transportation became another hot topic of discussion during my voyage from Meknes to Madrid. I love living in Meknes, and my only issue with the city is that we don’t have an airport. If we want to fly, we must take a train to another city: one hour to Fes, two hours to Rabat, or four to Tanger. So, here I was, on the train to the Rabat airport when I got a text from Jaci: “I don’t know what your plan is, but Hamid (our Arabic professor) says you should get off at Salé Ville (Rabat’s sister city across the river) because it’s closer to the airport than going all the way to Rabat.” Unsurprisingly, Hamid did me a huge favor. Not only are Rabat taxis more expensive in general, but Salé was, in fact, significantly closer to the airport. I ended up paying 30 Moroccan Dirhams (~$3 USD) rather than 100-150, solely because I got off the train one stop earlier. Once again, I would never have thought to stop at Salé to get to the Rabat airport– but a Moroccan would!
I finally learned my lesson while trying to plan my weekend solo-trip to Essaouira (which I intend to write about shortly). Traveling by myself was a new idea to me, and I was excited by the independence and spontaneity that it proposed. I was going to choose what I wanted to do without any input from anyone else, because isn’t that what solo-travel is all about? I searched through blogs, articles, and AI-generated lists for the perfect Essaouira itinerary, but what I found was obsolete to me. Every option was either a.) an activity common to all Moroccan cities:
- Walk around the medina
- Go to a traditional Moroccan hammam
- Eat Moroccan foods
or b.) expensive:
- Book a camel ride
- Take surfing or kite-surfing lessons
- Wine-tasting at the Val d’Argan vineyard
- Join a guided tour
While I love exploring the medinas, souks, and markets of different cities, I really wanted to experience everything unique to THIS city. I did cave and pay for a surfing lesson, but that occupied a significant percentage of my budget. I became frustrated because I knew why these were the only options showing up: I was searching in English and reading American/European blogs. They were directed at tourists only visiting one or two Moroccan cities on vacation, not for a student who’d been here for nearly three months. These itineraries are created to represent, not just the city, but Morocco as a whole. This is when I remembered that Essaouira is one of Oussama’s absolute favorite places, so I resolved to ask him. He was more than happy to help, and sent me a list of his favorite sights, live music, restaurants, and places to watch the sunset. I am incredibly thankful for his advice, and that I’d thought to ask for it.
I keep having to remind myself that independence doesn’t mean refusing help. Of course I knew that– its a lesson we’ve all been taught since elementary school– but tangible applications have made that lesson a lot more real. I’ve found that my values as an individual conflict heavily with the main purpose of studying abroad. I can’t fully embrace a different culture while ignoring the wisdom of those most familiar with it. Not only have I learned a lot about Morocco through this realization, but I’ve also learned about myself. Recognizing when I need help is another form of self-reliance, one I now aspire to cultivate. Even when I return to the U.S., where I’m more comfortable and knowledgeable, I want to keep pushing my ego aside and accepting help when needed. If you know me, you’re probably laughing at this because you know how much I struggle with it. But the truth is, asking for help doesn’t mean I’m losing my independence—it means I’m human.
DU Abroad 