A Travel Photography Story of Human Connection During Ramadan

When we set out that afternoon in Fez, Morocco, we thought we were simply heading to dinner.

Our guide, Miriam, had arranged for us to experience iftar with a local Moroccan family—a common cultural activity for travelers visiting Morocco during Ramadan. At first, we weren’t sure what to expect. Would it feel performative? Or staged for tourists?

But the moment we stepped through the door, all doubt dissolved. There was no performance. No formality. Just a family opening their home to strangers, and a room filled with kindness, ease, and quiet joy.

For those unfamiliar, iftar is the evening meal that breaks the fast during the holy month of Ramadan. Each day, Muslims fast from sunrise until sunset—abstaining from food and water as an act of spiritual devotion. Iftar marks the sacred moment when the fast is broken, traditionally beginning with a date, followed by a nourishing meal shared with loved ones or guests.

That night in Fez, we were honored to be those guests.

We gathered around the table, where bowls of harira—Morocco’s signature Ramadan soup—were served steaming hot. Rich with tomatoes, lentils, chickpeas, and warming spices, it was hearty and deeply comforting. Alongside it were boiled eggs, chebakia (rose-shaped pastries soaked in honey and sesame), and fruit tarts topped with whipped cream. One of the most surprising and satisfying dishes was bread stuffed with spiced meatballs, a modern twist on tradition that felt homemade and heartfelt.

As the rain tapped gently on the roof outside, conversation flowed in French, English, and laughter. The room felt intimate—like having dinner with friends you didn’t know you were missing.

And then, something small caught my eye.

Among the everyday objects and family trinkets, there was a small sign. It simply read: LOVE—written in English. A soft, quiet detail. But it struck me deeply.

That word—love—summed up the entire experience.

In a world often divided by language, faith, or geography, that rainy evening reminded me of something simple and essential: we may live differently, but we all long for the same things. To be seen. To be welcomed. To feel at home—even when we’re far from it.

That night in Fez wasn’t just a meal. It was a reminder that travel isn’t about checking boxes. It’s about connection. And at the heart of every meaningful journey is one truth: we all want to love and be loved.