The Western Kingdom

I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. It’s always been somewhere in the back of my mind. But it never quite turned out the way I thought it would. Until this year. This year everything fell into place. Everything happens for a reason, right? So this year, I started to belive in destiny again. And the stars.

It started out stressful. I got stuck in a major traffic jam on my way to the airport. On a Sunday of all days. Phone calls. Trying to make up for lost time. Running through the airport building with all my luggage. And in that moment I was thanking the skies for learning how to travel light. Because traveling light makes the running so much easier, you know. Chasing the last minutes before bag drop closes. But I made it. I actually made it. It took me a few minutes to catch my breath. And then I finally smiled. All blushed and sweaty I finally smiled. And even though those moments were tense, I knew, deep down, I would make it in time. I made it. I was going to Morocco. From my window seat I watched my home continent, my Europe, disappear. I was flying in the mystical embrace of the African continent.

Expectation is the root of all heartache. I realized that long ago. It’s what kills you the most. From the inside. Quietly. Because you spend too much time thinking about how your life should be, instead of focusing on what actually is. Focusing on here and now. And therefore I had no expectations of Morocco. Trinidad taught me well (link). But I had this subconscious feeling that something major and fateful was about to happen. In the desert. On a deeply personal level. This is what the deserts do to me. They help me transform. They are my happy place. They call out for me. They are so inviting to me. And is there a more majestic desert in the world then the mighty Sahara? I don’t know. I just know it’s something out of this world. And that there, deep in the heart of Sahara, my expectations came true.

The plane landed and for the first time in my life I was on the African soil.It was in the evening and the sky was covered with thick gray clouds. It was windy and not very warm. The hot African sun was nowhere to be found. For the second time this year I remembered the books about Angelique and her adventures in Morocco. I’m following into her footsteps, I thought to myself. As I did once before, in Paris. Oh yes, February in Paris was magical. I smiled. Everything will be alright.

Morocco surprised me. In every possible way. The illusion I had of it was smashed into pieces and a new one was built. It showed my its treasures in its self-assured manner. Displayed its diversity. And even though it is very popular with people (a lot of tourists) it never disappointed me. Maybe it was the people I traveled with. The people who share the path with you in that very moment. Who, at some point in time, come into your life and share their destiny with you. Even though it’s just for a brief moment. But still. I admit, I like exploring the world by myself. Sometimes. But I also like to share these moments with other people.

I believe that in life, some things are just meant to be. Meant to happen. Destiny, I guess. It’s a never-ending puzzle of life: billions of coincidences, fated moments, places and strangers, who in time cease to be that. And that is why, after Morocco, I believe in destiny again. And the stars.

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