Into Africa

Sometimes the best way to get over heartache is a hard gear switch. It wasn’t really planned that way, but arriving in Marrakech catapulted us into a world so foreign and so stimulating that we were propelled forward into our next chapter. We soaked up street life and retreated to our riad (Airbnb) when our senses needed to rest.

Our riad was a divine, peaceful sanctuary. Reaching it required navigating an unbelievable maze of narrow, twisty alleys that were too much for Google Maps. In the mornings I would awake to the sounds of birds. Several times a day we would hear the city light up in prayer. We lounged and homeschooled on the roof deck.

I love that my first-time-to-Africa is also my kids’ first time. Shared experience. The chaos reminded me a bit of big Asian and Indian cities, but somehow less intimidating. Or is it? Maybe I’ve changed? My globe-trotting years were 30 years ago when the world was much more disconnected and a torn copy of the Lonely Planet was your only source of information. There were fewer tourists. I was a frugal backpacker. I was younger and blonder. I was probably, er, more interesting to the locals ;) I wander through the streets of Marrakech and no one takes a second look. No one begs. No one heckles to sell me anything. No one even wants to barter. Really? No complaints I suppose. I had several very friendly interactions with kind street vendors. There is always beauty amid the chaos.

Breakfast was served every morning in our riad. This level of service and hospitality almost confused the kids. I had a less hard time; the coffee was otherworldly. I still consider myself a newish coffee drinker (started ten years ago) and find it amazing that it can be soooooo good sometimes while soooooo bad other times. The range certainly evokes appreciation for the moments when it’s sensational to me.

We got stunning henna from a local woman in her house. She served mint tea & Moroccan goodies while teaching us the traditions of henna. She had a Men’s Book of Henna that included scalp designs for bald guys. Too bad Justin was in Northern Europe for bike races.

The most memorable moment perhaps was when we wandered into an artists’ studio and gallery. It was felt quiet, spacious and ancient. Several artists’ work were on display. The fellow overseeing the gallery was a calligraphy artist. We had a lovely chat with him mostly in English but a little French too. Whether he was the ultimate Moroccan salesman, a charming guy, and/or a deeply religious man with an artists’ soul it almost doesn’t matter. He was kind and spent time with us. Talked about calligraphy and showed us some of the basics. Talked about the harmony in the spaces between letters. He wrote our names with handmade bamboo calligraphy pens, dipping them in handmade pots of ink. Talked about Islam and its beauty and some of its values. In a few gentle sentences he made the point that it gets a bad rap (in our corner of the world), but it’s not meant to be like that. Trying to make sense of things in my early 20’s I read “Religions of the World” and I remember thinking they all had so much goodness and love at their core, and they weren’t all that different from each other. And yet they all go so wrong too. Humans. Love.

A few days in Marrakech and we’ve reached our big city limit. Actually I’m realizing I like a big city day or two and the rest of the family prefers zero :) Noted. Onwards to the Atlas Mountains. A Big Birthday is around the corner for the energizer bunny.

On the way here we got a great view of the Rock of Gibraltar. Bye Bye Europe. Window seats rule. They are the gift of watching maps come alive. And bearing witness to our one and only amazing home planet.