I have one phrase which sums up my overall impression of Morocco: chaos with a laissez-faire attitude. Everywhere I looked, there was destruction amidst construction. Proficient commerce thrived in makeshift shops, where merchants of beautifully hand woven textiles managed negotiations on sales with a sense of playfulness and professionalism. Directly next to their stalls, you might find the local money changer or the poultry purveyor–supplied with baskets of live fowl cooped together much like “fresh” fish swimming in restaurant tanks like those found in San Francisco’s Chinatown, awaiting their certain fate.

This laissez-faire/live and let live attitude I observed reflected in the acceptance the Moroccans appear to have towards their adherence to religious practice. The people on the whole are deeply religious, even though some choose to close up shop and rush to the Mosque at the call to prayer, others pause where they are kneeling on a small rug and chanting their alms to the Almighty, while many others continue on with their daily routine, hearing the call to prayer mingled with honking car horns passing and the noisy, bustling streets filled with various modes of transportation.

I found the mesh of tradition and modernity remarkable.

Some people chose to wear the traditional fashions that have been worn for centuries of long-hooded caftans called jelabas, paired with slippers, while those sitting or walking beside them donned contemporary garb of skinny jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. And, even with the prevelence of cell phones many people use pay phones which are as readily found throughout the city as Starbuck’s coffee shops are in Seattle.

In conclusion, I found Marrakech, Fez, and the Atlas Mountains to be places where the past and the present meet with warm-heartedness, sharing stories over a cup of mint tea.