When I had to go from the airport in Casablanca to the city, I decided that taking a taxi would be much safer than taking a train and bus: I was tired and I had my huge backpack.

My taxi driver is called Hassan and he was the first Moroccan person I had a real conversation with.

He immediately asked me if I was married or not (everyone is asking me the same boring question) and he tried to answer to all of my doubts.

We talked quite a lot about Italy, about how different it must be for me here, about how horribly people drive here (true).

I asked him about women here, because I have seen some of them completely covered up, some who just cover up their head, and some dressed like we do in Europe. I thought that maybe the father/husband decided, but he told me that they can choose.

He talked very highly about his king, because he is bringing progress to the Nation, but he doesn´t really like the other politicians.

We had some communication problems, but it was ok. He was very kind and very curious about what I am doing here (I am asking myself the same question), and I really enjoyed his kind company after my misadventure.

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