The Last Hurrah

"The best trips are the ones where everything goes wrong," my brother said, a smile creeping across his face.

I just had to laugh. Wasn't that the truth? My brain began to go through the things that had gone wrong on our 10 day trip. A forgotten passport. A delayed flight. A care rental denied. Stopped by the police... three times. Ripped off by some Amazigh men. Getting lost for 12 hours. Leaking oil tank. Pushing back hiking a day. Being unprepared to summit the highest mountain in North Africa. Most painful descent from the mountain. Walking for 12 hours. Flat tire. Leaking oil tank... again. Eye infection. Day-late car return.

Phew. Whatta week!

Sometimes, words aren't enough. Sometimes, stories can't even begin to capture the experience. I'd try to explain my spring break and the amazing week I spent with my brother, but I'm sure that my words would certainly fall short. There were too many "you had to be there moments."

But in 10 short days we spent a night in the desert in Amazigh tents, explored ancient kasbahs, drove through the Atlas Mountains, climbed Mount Toubkal, spent time in Rabat and simply spent time together.

It's been five years since Rodrigo and I have been in the same place for more than a week together. Last time we were together, we enjoyed three short days and the time before... a little more than twenty-four hours. So ten days was a luxury.

And did we ever cherish it. We laughed and cried. We were silly and had intense discussions. We argued and giggled. We took pictures and recorded "commentaries."

Knowing that next time I see him will be at my wedding is a crazy thought. We knew that this trip was providing some sort of closure to a stage of friendship in our lives. Though we'd still visit and still see each other off and on... it'd be different. We both knew it.

It was our last hurrah.

 To see more pictures, you can go here.