On an Epic Journey, the Sea Glass Stands Out
Arranging sea glass on the beach in Rabat. (Photo by Lily Patrick)
By Ruby Mae Heathman
Rabat, Morocco
So, what was your favorite part? That’s the inevitable question that ripples through the conversation after I finish explaining my study abroad experience. Last fall, I studied climate policy with the School for International Training in Morocco, Nepal, and Ecuador; my program spent a month in each country. Once I’ve regaled my friends, or family members, or coworkers, or classmates with shimmery stories of bustling medina backstreets in Marrakech, rice flour rangolis in Tihar, and trails of leafcutter ants at a monkey reserve, that same question always arises: But what was your favorite part?
I am sure they expect me to answer that it was my time sand surfing in the Merzouga Desert, or dipping my fingertips into a glacial lake, or taking a canoe up the Napo River to watch parrots on the cliff face. After all, my program literally took me from the Sahara to the Himalayas to the Amazon. How could one of those dramatic experiences not be my favorite?
So pretty much everyone is surprised when I say that my favorite moment of the entire three-and-a-half months was collecting sea glass on the beach in Rabat, Morocco.
Ruby Mae (right) and her friend Zoe collect sea glass. The beach is a short walk from the medina (historic quarter) in Rabat. (Photo by Lily Patrick)
In Morocco, we spent the first leg of the program with homestay families in the capital city of Rabat, a place far less familiar to non-Moroccans than its flashy tourist destination counterparts: Marrakech, Tangier and Casablanca. We had flown into Casablanca to start the semester and had three fast-paced—almost tumultuous—days there. Our schedule was packed with briefings on the social, political, and climatic aspects of the country. The city was full of flashing lights, loud traffic—and lots of stares; a group of 15 American students isn’t exactly hard to miss. It was overwhelming.
On our fourth day, we drove an hour-and-a-half to Rabat, where we would meet our host families and start classes the following day. Compared to Casablanca, Rabat felt sleepy, almost dreamy. Gone were the flashing billboards advertising gyms that had finally arrived in Morocco! and cell service plans. Gone were the multi-lane roads and illegible traffic lights.
In their place were carts selling sticky pistachio baklava, coated with honey and sugar-crazy wasps. White stucco walls interspliced with soothing hardwood. The medina spiraled outwards, cascading through cobblestone streets adorned with dozing cats and vegetable stands. I only spent eleven days in Rabat, but it was the first place I felt comfortable on the program. And I think, to this day, it is the place I would most like to return.
Tea time with Ruby Mae’s host mom: homemade cake and biscuits, mint tea, and a beautiful table setting to welcome her student guests.
The day classes began, we had the morning to ourselves—a rarity on a program so full of technicolored movement. For homestays, we had been divided into pairs. I was partnered with Julia, another cat-loving redhead, who is majoring in Environmental Studies at the University of Colorado Boulder. After a breakfast of mint tea, msemmen, and tea cookies and jam with our host mom, Julia and I decided to venture outside of our apartment, which was nestled in the heart of the medina. The sugary morning bite heightened our intrigue and apprehension as we explored the maze of medina streets alone for the first time. We watched with wide eyes as vendors held out glasses of ruby-red pomegranate juice and shuffled colorful scarves in our direction.
Rabat is a port city, so we knew there was a beach about fifteen minutes from our home. The shoreline is divided into two sections: one with smooth sand meant for swimming and surfing, and the other dotted with green tide pools and jagged stones. We met up with Zoe and Lily, two other students from the program, on the tide pool side.
The four of us sat and marveled as huge waves crashed over the pools, sending geysers of water into the air, already heavy with salt. After three days of nonstop motion—through the bustling airport, fancy Casablanca hotel, crowded streets, and unfamiliar homestay—sitting with my toes tucked into the sand, laden with smooth sea glass and opalescent shells, marks the moment I felt truly comfortable since leaving my home in New Jersey.
The rhythmic rushing of the tide enraptured us as we wondered at the piles of multicolored sea glass that studded the shore, sandwiched in the ridges and hollows of the beach. They glittered invitingly in the morning light. I imagined that these treasures had been tumbled to softness by the rocky tide pools before being spit up at my feet—a journey not too dissimilar from my own arrival in Rabat.
We were barely at the beach for two full hours, but time seemed to freeze as I let the salty Atlantic water lick at my calves and dampen my skirt. Zoe and I collected sea glass: brilliant shades of red, cobalt, green, rust, teal, and yellow. We arranged them on the crisp white pages of her notebook in swirling patterns. As I danced between the sandbank and the shoreline—where I found crab claws and moon snails—small pieces of shells and stone clung to my shins, creating speckled patterns around my freckles before stubbornly nestling themselves in the folds of my shoes.
Tide pools in Rabat at low tide one evening.
Pieces of shells and stone cling to Ruby Mae’s legs and shoes at the beach. (Photos: left, by Zoe Meister; right, by Ruby Mae Heathman)
Throughout the program, we were encouraged to embrace the discomfort that comes with international travel: unknown languages, lack of cell service, unfamiliar cultural norms, unreliable internet and GPS… and of course, this is important. Had I spent the entire semester within my comfort zone, I doubt I would have learned as much as I did. But there was something so important about that day on the beach in Rabat, the way the sand blanketed me like a reassuring hug.
Maybe “comfortable” is the wrong word to describe how that morning made me feel. After all, I still had to set up my SIM card, find lunch before class—and find my way to class. But as we collected our things to leave the beach, I knew that I loved Rabat. I felt sheltered and secure in a way that made me so excited for the rest of my time in Morocco, Nepal, and Ecuador. I let that hazy feeling envelop me with salty fingertips and guide me back through the whirling medina streets—past streetcarts selling dates, past cats snuggled onto the seats of motorcycles, past my homestay apartment and doting host mom—right into my first class of the semester.
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Ruby Mae Heathman is a junior at Colorado College, where she majors in Environmental Studies and minors in Art History and Spanish. During the fall semester of 2024, she participated in a School for International Training program focused on climate policy and grassroots organizing, spending a month each in Morocco, Nepal, and Ecuador.
Ruby Mae is particularly interested in community connections to the environment, and was enamored by Rabat’s love for its public beaches. She has many places she would like to travel to next, but Ireland and a return to Morocco are at the top of her list.
* Photographs by Ruby Mae Heathman unless otherwise indicated
Published April 10, 2025
Ruby Mae in the Merzouga Desert. (Photo by Lily Patrick)
