Nomad's Notes from somewhere on the road

In late April I flew to Abi and Min's wedding in Washington, DC, and from there to Morocco for 15 days. This was not my first trip to Morocco. In fact, I set this blog up initially to record my 2009 trip to Spain and Morocco. (You can read about that trip and see some photos if you go all the way back to the beginning or click on the panel on the right for 2009). I loved Morocco and when I heard that Margot Taussig Pinkerton and Arnie Zann were leading a photo workshop there, I was eager.

Then, as the time grew near, I wondered if I would be disappointed. It was so good the first time, would some of the magic have worn off? Absolutely not. I love Morocco and would go back again, stay for longer, and if I weren't so poor with languages, I'd even consider living there.

What is the appeal? I've tried in the photos posted to give you an idea of the diversity of the land, the beauty of it, the rich culture, spectacular crafts, architecture, and great food. But the real joy is the people. It was still Ramadan when we arrived. We were warned people might be a little testy If we experienced "testy" we need to send all Americans for some classes in behavior, in gracious manners, in respect for people, and gentle humor.

For those of you who like looking at photos, there are plenty here. Some of you may not be as into that, and the photos are broken into categories so you can look at the things that interest you most. Regardless of how many posts you look at, I suggest that you read the text and then click on the first photo in each category. This will enlarge the photos for far superior viewing. And also because, like Facebook and other sites, blogs do sometimes cut off part of the photo when viewing in the site format. Some photos may show in a couple different posts....I did the posts over time and could not always remember what I had posted, or the photo was great for two different stories of Morocco.

At the end of each page, there is a prompt to go to previous posts, or you can go back to the top and pick them by topic.

I recommend you all head to Morocco.

If you have questions or comments leave a post at the bottom of any page. Or, email me. Please NO FACEBOOK MESSENGER. Every time I have used it I end up getting hacked. Don't know why, but if you are a friend, you have my email and we can communicate that way or text.

A few favorites:

Click on first photo and you will see them as a slide show and enlarged. These are small for viewing.

Why do I travel? There are lots of reasons I suppose but the most important part is that traveling causes me to learn more about myself, understanding there are different ways of doing things (and learning that the way we do it at home is not always the most valid), and seeing that we have more in common than we have differences.

So, while I loved the food of Morocco, the varied landscapes, the beautiful crafts, the spectacular architecture with its arches, soft corners, integration with the environment, doors, and scary stairways, it was the people who made the trip.

Margo and Arnie, the workshop leaders (Barefoot Contessa Photo Adventures) were adamant about not sneaking photos of people, of asking for permission. Exception were made when people were far away, especially it their faces were not visible. In other cases we did ask for permission, even if it was as simple as pointing to our camera and waiting for a "yes." And if there was no affirmation, then we found something else to photograph. It makes sense. I know I had plenty of photos taken of me when I worked in Yellowstone and Glacier, especially when I was in uniform, with my bus. I knew it went with the territory. But it can get to be old if it happens every time you are loading your camel or donkey, arranging the fruits in your stall, or hanging up clothes on the clothesline. If we were purchasing, or made arrangements to have tea or a meal with the family, then photos were welcome. In other instances, we gave them something for their time. Sometimes they were fine with photos for just the chance to chat a bit.

I do have a photo here that was unintended. I was photographing down a long, narrow passageway in a medina (walled part of a city). A mother and son were almost to the end when the light would hit nicely. Their faces would not show. Just as I was ready to shoot, a woman leaned out her door and tossed soapy water into the alley. I didn't know she was there and didn't expect the shot. In fact, I expected it would probably be out of focus and not useable. But it wasn't. Sometimes we are lucky. Because of my position leaning against a wall, I don't think she even saw me. Had she, I would have apologized.

On my last day in Casablanca I was eating lunch at an outside café. A shoeshine man came by. My shoes did look pretty awful. I knew I only had a rather large bill, by local standards, but I asked the waiter if he could give me change. He said yes, but it would take a little while....I saw him talk to someone inside and then jog down the street to a couple of shops. He came back with change. In the meantime I had asked the gentleman who was going to polish my shoes if I could take a photo. Since I do not speak Berber, Arabic or French beyond hello, thank you and other simple transactions, I pointed to my camera and then with my hands indicated I wanted a photo of him shining my shoes. He shook his head. I set the camera down. But then he put his hands in front of his face, and indicated no, but pointed to his hands with the brush and my shoe and smiled and said "yes." And so there is a photo of my shoes being polished.

Even as he was polishing them I knew they were not going home with me. I jettisoned some clothing, the shoes, and toiletries to make room from treasures. I sent the items I was jettising to the desert to be distributed to whoever could use them.

Here are some of the faces of Morocco. Clicking on a photo to enlarge will allow you to see the detail and appreciate the scene better than these small images..

Weaving is an ancient and honorable art. Wool comes from sheep, goats, camels, and donkeys. They also provide meat and milk. Agave plants are striped for their long, silk like fibers which are used for scarves and the purse I purchased. The first set of photos show weaving from the wool on the hoof to the weaving, to selling and to washing family rugs in streams.

carding the wool

Weaving a light weight blanket\coverlet

Weaving agave strands which have a silky sheen to them

These women were washing rugs in a stream. They were delighted at our interest. Here the rugs were placed on a plastic tarp and then walked on to help get dirt out.

Lis, one of the photographers in our group, took off her sandals and helped with the washing.

The wash houses in Chefchouen are quite elaborate. The river runs over cement causeways where carpets and blankets can be spread without the tarps. Inside the wash houses are scrub boards for smaller items. On my previous trip to Morocco one of my fellow travelers and I did some of our laundry on the scrub boards here and then took it back to our lodgings to hang on the roof to dry. On this trip there was less activity at the wash house (perhaps because it was Ramadan) but there are some blankets carpets drying on the roof of the wash house.

Leather is another art in Morocco. Again, the same animals provide the hides. The city of Fez is famous for its tanneries. When you enter they give you a sprig of mint to hold under your nose because the smell can be quite disagreeable. However, it was a fairly quiet afternoon and the smell wasn't bad when we were there..

click on this to see mom's smiling eyes.

As I look through my photos and think about the trip, I realize there was plenty of laughter, from out own group , our laughing guides, to people we met in our travels. I think kids take on a lot of responsibilities, but it is also clear the families and communities are affectionate..

This young man worked in a small gift shop with quite a few antiquities. Here he is getting something off the roof.

Pottery is also a well practiced art.

Overlooking Fez. This was the last day of Ramadan. Many gathered with picnics on the grounds of mosques and in parks to break the final fast. These young men are on the cemetery hill. A loud blast (cannon?) went off at the official sunset time.

And best of all the funny, caring, conscientious, warm guides: Hamid, Mouhammad, and Aziz