A moment in Rabat

Last night I had a moment in Rabat. One of those moments that you want to capture and take with you for the rest of your life. A moment that a camera cannot capture. A moment that stimulates all of your senses.

I had been walking through a souk for around an hour with my befriended travel buddy from Sydney. The souk is full of narrow lanes full of stores of food, clothes and handy crafts. The architecture is distinctly Islamic, with Mosaics everywhere. The air smelt of incense and spicey food. The air was warm, but sligthly sticky. We were in a quieter part of the lane but could see the shoulder to shoulder crowded section ahead. Store keepers were bartering with locals in a mixture of Arabic and French. A cat was drinking out of a storm drain. It was around 8-30pm and the sun had set.

At this point the Islamic call to prayer started. A man in Arabic can be heard, his voice resonating and echoing down the narrow lane. The sound had no distinct source, it seemed to come from everywhere. The sound had a way to get to you. Somehow you could feel it rather than hear it.

After what felt like a minute, but could have been 10 seconds, the call to prayer ended. The Moroccans continued on with their business, but I walked away from the experience feeling somehow richer to be a part of it.