
Why Morocco?
My father was an aircraft mechanic who often flew to Morocco in the 1950s to repair downed aircraft, probably at the Port Lyautey Naval Air Station near Casablanca. He sent us postcards of exotic-looking people leading camels through the desert and brought home cherished gifts of tooled leather and decorative brass. I was delighted to finally visit with NextTribe and learn more about this place of my childhood fantasies.
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