I took a train to Meknes to meet a girl at a cafe overlooking an ancient city. Over coffee she explained that she had studied in Europe. Then, over pizza, she explained that she was the textbook definition of crazy.

I asked if she wanted to explore the old city with me.

We quickly got lost in winding alleys of clothes shops and vendors selling dates and raisins. Pursued by fake tour guides and dodging men leading sweaty mules, we arrived at a booth where a man asked if we wanted to go into the school.

What school? the girl asked.

Bou Inania Madrasa, he said. Built in the 14th Century.

We paid a dollar and went in to view empty corridors and darkened rooms, where over the centuries students must have sat learning classical Arabic to study the Quran. Sounds from the old city echoed in quietly. Dust muffled our footsteps as we climbed the stairs and made our way to the roof.

Looking up at the green tower of a nearby mosque and red roofs of the old city, I asked the girl if I could kiss her. Nervously, she said yes.

Afterward we left the school and the old city, found our way to the city walls and then went our separate ways.