As I was on the plane heading from Toronto to Morocco, I was very much excited and nervous as it was my first time travelling alone without my family. Very much outside of my comfort zone, thinking about travelling for approximately 14 hours (layover in Paris for 3 hours) and having to go through customs all by myself was what I feared the most. As we arrived in Morocco, we began to line up to go through customs. Every minute that went by made me dread that I would be next.
As it was my turn to walk towards the booth, the customs officer decided it would be a good time to take a call, which increased my fear. At this point, my ability to hear anything remotely nearby was very much an issue. As the officer was talking to someone on the phone, completely ignoring my existence, another officer appeared. Thinking this would get me to finish this process a lot quicker, completely ignoring me, they began to have a conversation in Arabic. As I was the last one to complete this process, at this point, my fear disappeared and was replaced by frustration. Finally after a long time of waiting, the officer decided I had waited enough and asked if I was Indian or Pakistani. Completely irrelevant to what he had to ask me, I said: “No, I’m Canadian, my parents are from Sri Lanka”.
Once he had dismissed me, I ran fast away from the booth. Although it was not a pleasant experience entering Morocco, it could have been worse. As this disappointment only lasted for a minute, once I had stepped out of the airport my excitement emerged once again. Morocco, from only the view at the airport, made me realise that little things should not matter, as from that day forward this trip would be a memorable experience.