By this time, towards the last month of our trip, the Rujulah Retreat attendees and some friends from Canada had arrived in Fez. One day, my mother and I took our friend to visit some of the graves and mausoleums of the saints at the Bab al-Futuh graveyard, overlooking Fez. We had already been, but she needed a guide and we were always up for an outing. 

The climb was much harder than it looked. There isn't a walkway, just footpaths visitors had created over the years, and the terrain was rocky and treacherous. Though we began our trip early, the sun was still hot, and soon we were sweating and thinking longingly of water. 

​The trek was well worth it for the view alone though.

Our first visit was to the grave of Abdul Wahid ibn 'Ashir, a premier scholar of law. I memorized part of his famous poem on Islamic creed as a little girl. We would not have found his burial grounds were it not for our guide (one of many who work the graveyards as guides).

Then we were off, climbing higher and slightly eastwards, when suddenly my mom cried out, squinting into the sun's glare. She had spotted someone she later swore she had been wondering if she would meet. It was a little old lady who, on my mother's most recent previous visit to Fez, had guided her directly to many of the greatest mausoleums.

They greeted each other cheerily, and the lady led us on, now going on a slight descent, for which we were grateful for. At last we came to a building with the characteristic dome designating it the final resting place of someone of high importance.

It was the gravesite of the brother-saints, Yusuf and Abdulrahman Al-Fasi. It was a beautiful place serene and cool under a cloud of jasmine and a towering tree, and completely empty.

The descent down was very quick and quite fun. We refreshed ourselves with fresh lemonade from a rolling cart swarming with fairly harmless though quite terrifying looking bees.

I, my parents, my sister, and two of the daughters of my Sheikh went on a spur-of-the-moment road-trip to Al Hoceima, a city in the north of Morocco on the coast of the Mediterranean. The route we chose was on snakelike roads, winding and twining and clinging to the edge of the mountains, roads upon which drivers roared down and around corners like there was no such thing as oncoming traffic. It was both a terrifying and absolutely brilliant drive.

The last time I saw clouds like this was in Istanbul, Turkey. It's a double cloud shadow, which i think means that the highest part of the cloud is casting a shadow on its lower part.

And then we crested one final hill, and below us was Al-Hoceima, a city like pearls strung along an azure coast. It was really pretty, is what I'm saying.

We arrived in the evening, got our hotel rooms, broke our fasts, and went to sleep. My sister and I spent the night on the balcony, listening to the sea. At dawn, the daughters of my Sheikh and I went down to the beach for a little morning meditation and recitation of the Quran, and then waded in the water. 

​There were jellyfish!

The water was crystal clear and warm...

via Instagram

By midmorning we had packed up and left. This time, we took a route along the coast back to Fez, passing through some of the most incredible terrain. The earth was red as Mars in places, and the hills looked like they belonged in an alien world.

Around the middle of Ramadan, my family and I and a group of international students we'd befriended went to pray tarawih (supererogatory prayers done in Ramadan) in the Kairaouine. Praying under the stars, surrounded by hundreds of people, was an incredible, mindful experience. 

Afterwards we headed out to do some mausoleum visits. Some, but not all, would be open late on Ramadan nights. 

We went first to the mausoleum of the Muslim saint Ahmed Tijani. We begged entry as they were just then locking the doors and we were graciously welcomed in. It was empty save for its caretakers and the disciples of the saint. Every inch of it was resplendent with intricate design, but it was not at all overwhelming, almost organic instead. 

Finally, we came upon innocuous if pretty doors of what seemed to be a shop. In fact, it used to be a store when one night the owner dreamed of the Prophet (ﷺ) entering his shop. This inspired the owner to turn his shop into a zawiyah; a place dedicated to the remembrance of God and his Prophet (ﷺ). It is only open for mawlids; a celebration specifically for the Prophet's birth (ﷺ). In the Muslim tradition, all dreams of the Prophet (ﷺ) are visions of his actual presence.

I'll leave you with a short, inexpertly shot and edited video I took after praying...