If only I was equipped with a telescope so I could determine the first night of Ramadan myself, because time was passing by and it was the first of August, but no Moroccans seemed to be buzzing about with the spirit of the holy month.
The taxi driver looked at me in a panicked state and exclaimed, “Quran! Quran!” Frantically attempting to communicate with me in Arabic, he hoped that we would at least understand each other through a commonality of faith. I nodded in agreement and felt a sense of relief.
Somehow the stars seemed to be aligned just right, because my fortune could not have been better. I embarked on my dream to live in Muslim countries during the month of Ramadan this year.