Negotiating With Nomads

 Few things for me are more full of short-term pain and long-term pleasure than spending too much money to buy something I didn’t want. Because almost always, once I’ve finished smacking myself on the forehead for being so stupid, I realize that along with the purchase comes a good story at no extra charge. And then, the unwanted thing becomes a cherished memento. So it was that one morning in Essaouira, I was sucked into a nomad’s trinket shop. Continue reading “Negotiating With Nomads”

Eat, Pray, Love In Morocco: An Evening at Khadija’s Kuzina

Here’s an article I wrote for Journey Beyond Travel, about one of two cooking classes I took in Essaouira, Morocco last month!

Eat, Pray, Love in Morocco – An Evening at Khadija’s Kuzina

A Bientót, Morocco!

I’m sitting in the back of our taxi as we drive, looping inland and then back to the Atlantic coast heading north from Essaouira. We’ve just begun the seven-hour drive to Salé, where we will spend our final night in Morroco. The sky is overcast. Forests of thuya wood stretch from both sides of the road, as far as the eye can see. As always, Yvonne is sitting in the front seat so that she can talk to the driver in French. I am half-listening, half writing.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe trees become scrub as we get closer to the sea. Unburdened donkeys graze by the road, no work this morning. Small herds of sheep and goats populate the hillsides, their keepers always nearby. Low stone walls make corrals for the occasional horses or cows. We mount a rise in the road, and suddenly the ocean appears, calm, the beach an endless stretch of sand. Continue reading “A Bientót, Morocco!”

Jimi Hendrix, Where Art Thou?

ess-kitesIt was so windy in Essaouira the evening we arrived that my hat flew off of my head as I exited the car. That much wind was exceptional, but it isn’t called the Windy City for nothing; this coastal town and its tradewinds are world-reknowned for kitesurfing. The typical weather during our visit was cool and overcast in the morning, even foggy sometimes, while afternoons were sunny and breezy. It was much more like San Francisco than hot Casablanca, which is 200 miles north. Continue reading “Jimi Hendrix, Where Art Thou?”