Fes, Chefchaouen, Tangiers

From the rooftop of our pension in Chefchaouen.

Zach and I flew away to Morocco for Semana Santa. We began by meeting my dear Molly in Fes. We then took a bus to Chefchaouen and finished with a brief stay in Tangiers. Molly is in Morocco with the Peace Corps and I'm hoping to visit her site in September--away from the tourists and bustle of the cities.

This was Zach's first time in Morocco and I think it made a great first impression. The food is incredible, the people friendly, and he especially loved the tea (green tea with mint and lots of sugar). I enjoyed traveling with a man and in smaller, more european cities--almost no harassment in the streets this time.

This gentleman was the definition of dapper.

When shooting from the hip, I occasionally get lucky. I'm not sure this guy knew I was taking his picture.

Beautiful details of the entryway of a mosque in the medina.

We visited the Tannery. It was smelly, interesting, and ancient. I bought beautifully made shoes.

Lying out the skins to dry.

The men put the skins in the pits and agitate the mixture with their legs. Hard, stinky work that can't be easy on your skin.

Molly and me, enjoying the sour smell of the tannery. Molly has her mint at hand to provide relief from the smell.

The white pits are lye, I think. The others are dyes and other chemicals.

One of the women at the bus stop is in camouflage.

Turkish toilet. Kind of a brilliant idea, actually.

Summer palace within the medina. Beautiful gardens and a museum full of artifacts.

My new shoes.

From the terrace of Cafe Clock--bohemian hangout of Fes.

Minaret of a nearby mosque.

Rooftop of our hotel in Fes.

Molly taught Zach and I how to cover our heads. I looked remarkably convincing as a Berber housewife (sorry, no picture of that one). It was so lovely to giggle and joke with Molly in addition to the arabic phrases and cultural wisdom she shared with us.

Berber woodworking in our room in Chefchaouen.

Out the door of our pension.

In our pension, looking up through the interior.

Morocco's very popular king, Mohommed VI.

Pigment for paints. I think they mix the pigment with plaster and paint their houses with it, which helps create the frosted-cake effect.

Abraham invited Zach and I into his shop to show us his wares. This man knew how to make a sale... flattering, pontificating, talking really fast, and administering creepy besos every now and then... But we did get tea out of the deal.

Abraham gets inappropriately close. He loved the way I smelled. I hadn't had a proper shower in three days. Eeeew.

Abraham points out the "jiggy-jiggy" herb. "No one, no two, no three... FIVE TIMES.... I have fourty-four years and I do it every way." I've never been so embarrassed in my life.

Beautiful mosque.

Sunset on the roof. I helped Zach take this shot with my camera. He got to learn the magic of SLRs on this trip. Teaching photography is magical.

The young women, especially little girls, are cooed over by their fathers, brothers, uncles, and friends. It melts my heart to see the fathers chatting away with their daughters, hand in hand, as they stroll along. In a country where women are often uneducated (especially in the rural areas) and given few options for their futures, it's good to see the smiles and laughter and womanhood without the stigma of a muslim nations beating down their women. You don't have to be in a muslim country to find domestic violence, nor do you have to be in a christian country to find happy families. I need a reminder now and then that happiness has thousands of definitions--and seeing the linked arms of brothers and sisters, mothers and sons, or the jokes between husband and wife are the best kind of reminders.

Children's theater in the street.

Zach looks fetching in his Berber desert garb.

Chefchaouen cemetery. You can see the wall of the city in the distance.

Market day in Chauen. Women sat along the walls selling mint and cilantro, re-used bottles filled with milk, and various vegetables from kitchen gardens.

Smurf-tastic cousins.

Everyone thought we were married, which actually worked out well for me. There were fewer crude remarks when I was with Zach. And he's a great travel buddy--he laughs at my stupid jokes and is up for anything.

Apple soda is delicious. Especially with a chopped meat sandwich--turkey, onion, cilantro, cumin, cinnamon, hot sauce, and cayenne pepper on a fresh baked roll or flat-bread.

I love stray cats.

The soundtrack of Morocco is punctuated by the yowls and hisses of the real rulers of the streets. Basking in the last moments of sunshine for the day on a rooftop terrace, the haunting sound of the call to prayer would echo through Chaouen's valley, each mosque's sing-song voice layering over the others in a strange tapestry of sound. We'd watch the women hang laundry on rooftops nearby, or the men slip off their shoes at the entrance to the mosques, and it wasn't difficult to imagine the city as it was hundreds of years ago.

The most beautiful bus ride ever: the mountains and greenery, roadside pottery stands, roaming shepherds and soccer matches, and the sun slowly sinking before us.

Rif mountain town.

Tangiers skyline at sunset. Tangiers was pretty lame in comparison to Chaouen and Fes, and we were only there for one night. But driving through it was fascinating--it gave a whole new definition to the word "teeming."

Shukran, Maroc, Bismallah.

"If you find yourself caught in love...

Send a prayer to the man above." --Belle and Sebastian

I just got back from a Solochics concert. The band is comprised of two faculty members at my school, an alumnus, and one awesome drummer who is american born but spanish by nature. The crowd was full of people I work with, people I know through people I work with, and friends and family of the band mates.

Looking out at the crowd as Trish crooned and wailed out the lines to "Find Somebody to Love" I watched the newly reunited (after an ugly separation) married couple dancing cozily, the pregnant belly of the guitar player's girlfriend and high school sweetheart, the joyous dancing of the bass player's wife of ten years or more, the wild-girl dancing of the friend whose boyfriend always stays home, the patient hovering of the man next to the friend who dumped him because he needed to get his life together, the bittersweet reunion of the friend with her on-again off-again boyfriend near the bar, the sweet glances of the woman waiting for her boyfriend to propose.... And I felt the sway of the crowd press the body of the man behind me against my back--a guy who has flirted with me since I moved here.

Trish's voice packs a punch, and Livio watched her with a healthy dose each of sadness and pride--the breakup still raw. Through all the rejection and awkward moments, it's easy to forget that when love and lust are involved someone has to hold the power. The Solochics jammed to tunes full of feminine strength and sexuality while the men in the audience stood in awe of the women dancing and singing around them. The women who've dumped them, who've caught them, who've held their interest or supported them through years of friendship or marriage. My male friends keep telling me what tonight became so obvious: we ladies have no idea the havoc we reap.

Augusto Emerita circa 1 AD

Susan and I spent the San Jose puente in Merida, a small town in Extremadura near the Spain/Portugal border. We marveled at roman ruins, ate way too much rich food, and enjoyed greek yogurt gelato. And it barely even rained--lucky us!

Check out the stork on the roof. They were everywhere and reminded me of the blue herons back home.

Plaza de Toros.

Susan makes a great bullfighter.

Standing in the entrance to the amphitheater. It was sprinkling a little.

Temple of Diana cat.

Me, being Diana for the Temple of Diana.

Huh... Someone doesn't like tourists.

The theater. Amazing reconstruction from original pieces.

The amphitheater was way cool too.

Roman ruins aren't as interesting when you're little.

Mosaic floor.

Roman oven foundation.

Burning myself on the oven. I also have a picture of me sticking my head in the oven like Sylvia Plath and another with me baking bread (with actual baguette that I was carrying around for a snack). Surprisingly, this one was the most flattering.

The foundation of the bath house. The arches would have held up the floor and let hot air circulate beneath the floor.

The original painted walls of a roman house. I was amazed at how long the paint lasted. I wonder what they used for red and orange--usually that's the first range of colors to fade and blue is the last.

The theater at night.

We stumbled upon a balloon release symbolizing the 1000 reasons why not to have an abortion. It was a cool idea (though I'm more pro-choice than not) but I couldn't get past the ecological implications. I wanted to shout at them about all the creatures that would choke and die from ingesting the balloons once they fall back to earth.

Each balloon had a note attached written by a child saying their favorite parts of being alive.

Letting the balloons go.

Watching balloons fly away.

Breakfast each morning was a nepolitana chocolate and zumo naranja natural. Yum.

This restaurant was so good we went there twice. It's a bull-fighting enthusiast bar and the tap is shaped like a bull head. So classy.

The bus ride was gorgeous: stormy clouds and fields of clover.

Bodega Osborne (sherry maker) has these billboards up all over Spain. They're my favorite part about taking the bus.

Jerez de la Fronterra

Susan and i traveled to Jerez for a long weekend in February. There was a flamenco festival going on and the streets were filled with beautiful dancers and gorgeous musicians. I rediscovered a love of flamenco through the incredible rhythms produced by these musicians and their dancer friends. Holy cow. And the audiences like to clap in triplets. The city itself was so beautiful that I was kicking myself constantly for forgetting my camera. Ug. But Susan generously let me steal her pictures after the fact. So this is Jerez through the eyes of Susan.

One of our good friends has a family apartment in Puerto Santa Maria, a short train-ride from Jerez. We stopped by for the day and enjoyed some yummy food. This is Susan eating "langrimas de pollo" or "chicken tears." I don't know how they made the chicken cry, but it sure tasted good. And our waiter looked like Tony Danza and flirted quite enthusiastically with Susan. You go girl!

Susan and I played cards constantly this trip. We'd stop somewhere for a drink and play some gin or table rummy. I didn't realize how much I missed cards and we're both rather competitive so it was intense.

Susan and I went on a tour of the sherry bodega, Gonzalez-Byass (also known as Tio Pepe's bodega). It is the most famous sherry producer in the world and the tour came with four different kinds of sherry to taste (including one full bottle to share). Yummy.

Susan and I were very happy.

One of the cellars is full of special vintages where the barrels are signed by celebrities from around the world. Picasso next to Speilberg? Some of the neighbors were quite ironic.

Aunt Jamie becomes Tio Pepe.

Aunt Susan becomes Tia Pepe too!

Sigh... I love salad.

For those of you who've read Like Water For Chocolate, a mexican novel full of recipes and romance, this is quail legs stuffed with rose petals in a rose petal sauce. In the book, the sister of the cook eats the meal and becomes so fire-y hot with love and desire that her body sets the shower house on fire and she runs away with a revolutionary general. The effect wasn't quite the same with me, but it was still incredibly delicious. (Blogger is being weird and won't let me get rid of the underline--even looking at the code I can't figure out how it's happening.)

Susan, checking out the flamenco festival schedule. We saw some amazing flamenco. The flamenco ballet was incredible. We also met a very interesting lady, Cristina, at this restaurant. She approached us asking if we were dancers. Yes, that's right, I've been mistaken for a flamenco dancer. My life is complete. She teaches flamenco in Minneapolis and we ended up running into her all over town. Eventually we gave in and had dinner together with one of her friends--entirely delightful. I love meeting new people.

Avacado, mango, and shrimp salad; lomo (cured pork tenderloin), and tuna cooked in sherry and garlic. YUM. Jerez has amazing food. One night we were the only customers in a cute little bar and the waiter kept surprising us, "sopresas, sopresas" and "una cosita mas." We were in total bliss. The meal ended with Pedro Ximenez sherry chupitos topped with whipped cream--and the entire experience wasn't even that expensive. We went back with Cristina and her friend a few nights later and experienced our first tastes of clotted blood and tripe (more sopresas). They were suprisingly delicious--cooked in sherry of course--and it made me happy that the entire animal was being used. The spanish truly know how to party.

A Few More Beginnings...

The other weekend I went to Jerez and watched some amazing flamenco. This is the third layer of my second flamenco painting. The other one is still struggling--this one has more potential.