“His was over the water,“ a quote from the Quaran, inspired Morocco's most famous mosque to be built half over the Atlantic Ocean. Like a faithful home, the mosque allows God's worshipers to contemplate his sky and ocean. The intricate relationship between land and water is exemplified in its prayer halls where you pray over the ocean while looking at the sky. Through its granite walls, it invites you to join the magical Arabic quest.

CMA Airport: 20 steps and not a single clue about what this Moroccan Easter trip had in store was exposed. On the way to Casablanca’s famous Hassan II Mosque, I absorbed the serene beauty that North Africa’s busiest port city had to offer. Upon reaching the mosque, it was quite evident what Morocco, its flamboyant past and phoenix-tailed magic, could do to one.

The world’s third-largest mosque and home to 45,000 visitors per day, Hassan II Mosque, shows off its thousand-year-old, sun-glittered courtyards and ocean-mist floors. Worth blowing one’s own trumpet are its enormous prayer halls. Made up of gorgeous glass floors, it lets you view the Atlantic breaking over the rocks beneath while praying to the almighty above. Huge Arabic gates are situated all around the immense courtyard and large lotus-shaped ablution fountains are carved around the mosque’s gates.

Covered in green, blue, cream, gold, pink and purple marble, the mosque is the perfect welcome to Morocco. From intricate mosaics and graphite columns to centrally heated floors and retractable roofs, it invites the elderly to join hands with the youngsters and gives us an insight into a country full of colors, dreams, and passion.

The lingering smell of boiled vegetables, grilled meat and cardamom seeds greeted me like a long-lost sailor returning home. A hot, sticky wind blew over my face, and I instinctively took out my phone and opened the weather app. I was in the middle of a 37°C Moroccan souk, and all I knew was that a strange, magnetic force kept pulling and pleading for me to discover the wonders that lay beyond.

I looked around and found an unoccupied chair coated with a thin layer of dust and oil from the air. Hesitant for a while, I finally forced myself to sit down. There was utopian chaos all around: young gentlemen looking for places to park their bikes; women bargaining in various languages (of which several were foreign to me); shopkeepers shouting cheap deals to attract customers; and little kittens, dogs and birds singing to their own tunes.

I bought a cup of special Moroccan tea from the shop behind me, only to discover that it contained mint. I reluctantly took a sip of the piping hot tea from the little earthy pot made of red clay. Within moments, I was pulled into a never-experienced roller coaster of emotions. The aroma of cool, refreshing mint filled my nostrils while the strong taste of the rich tea warmed every nerve in my body.

It was a feeling of completeness, a feeling of being forced to sleep on a slab of ice while hot air circulated all around the room. As the tea reached the very depths in my heart, I straightened up and carved a wide grin upon my face. This was it, the taste that drives travelers crazy, the taste that drives the lost back home, the taste that drives nomads forward while they voyage through the dunes. This was the taste of paradise.

A gram of Arabicness, a pinch of Andalusian, an ounce of Sub-Saharan influence topped with spices from the Mediterranean and a little vibrant European touch. Mint, oregano, parsley, peppermint, fenugreek, nutmeg, saffron, cloves – name the herb or spice and your taste buds will find them. Fish, beef, chicken, lamb, mutton, and eggs – lift the cover and you will see it!

Earthen pots made of red clay, cooked in warm ovens, bearing the weight of meat, spices, and vibrant herbs. Cooked on high flame and heat, this Moroccan delicacy satisfies your taste buds as if you have found the taste you have been waiting for for years. Tagine is a gem, common, but worth a thousand yeses.

The meat as tender as puppies, the gravy as savory as your favorite soup, the couscous as fluffy as cotton. And your taste buds feel as though they were on fire, not because of the spice, but because the mouth-watering taste takes you into a different dimension. A dimension which one may possibly never forget. A dimension which has only one gate of entry. A dimension which will always have its own space in your memory.