The only time my hometown steals the spotlight is when a hurricane slams into the Florida shoreline. For someone who wants to be a foreign correspondent, Sanibel Island is an odd place to hail from. The tiny barrier island of some 6,000 residents sits on the southwest coast of the Sunshine State, tucked away from any major news hubs but in prime hurricane territory. Luckily, whenever the big storms hit in the summer, my family would take me traveling around the world. We’d cross our fingers, hop in the car or on the plane, and hope our roof would still be there when we got back.

After surviving the category four winds of Hurricane Charley in 2004 and a brief run-in with Tropical Storm Barry in 2007, I decided to take on the Windy City. I enrolled in Medill claiming to want to report internationally. Secretly I’m just looking for the best spicy food around the world. I pepper everything in the States and can’t stand too much salt. Don’t let my skinny frame fool you – I really love eating. I started freelancing as a food photographer last spring and have been known to accept payment in edible form. I’m going to Morocco for eight weeks this summer. I’d like to find great news stories, sure, but also some delicious French-African-fusion culinary delights. Mmm…

I started thinking about studying abroad a year in advance. At that point, I didn’t know I’d wind up in Morocco, or that I’d be studying Arabic on a Critical Language Scholarship from the U.S. Department of State. But one thing was clear: I didn’t want to spend another summer unemployed on Sanibel Island doing chores for my parents.

It’s not that I was miserable last summer. I spent more time placing bets in poker than placing bricks in my driveway like I was supposed to. I hung out with my island friends, going kayaking, swimming, and fishing. Imagine lounging under a coconut palm on some quiet beach and you have a good idea of how things work on Sanibel. Of course, my dad’s a real estate agent, so maybe I’m biased. I didn’t mention the heat or mosquitoes.

I’m not sure about coconut palms, but I’ll get plenty of heat and mosquitoes in the seaside city of Tangier.  That’s where I’ll be spending eight weeks from June to August getting to know the darija spoken variety of Arabic and playing pickup soccer. I’m excited to study Arabic at the American School in Tangier and party with some real footballers as the World Cup takes place across the continent. Life north of the Sahara will be hot and intense—I hope the food will be that way, too. I’ll keep you posted.