In the beginning ...

When its you and the water, nothing else matters. 

There is a complete joy and visceral reaction I feel being anywhere near the water. It is part of this world, part of us, part of me and such a world unknown to most . This was a trip like no other I've experienced. It encompassed seven days in Mexico with five of them being on the water or at our sandy camp as we kayaked around Espiritu Santos, an uninhabitable island that is a nature preserve.

Some of my fellow travelers had experienced this journey before, only 10 years prior, and the other newbies and I were hungry for more even before it began. The night we arrived we drove the 2.5 hours from San Juan del Cabo airport to La Paz, on the Sea of Cortez. The drive as it winded through the desert landscape up and down what they call mountains was easy enough with glimpses of ocean along the way but not much else. We stopped for a cerveza at a road side tienda just making it before they closed. People were friendly but people are usually friendly when we travel. I feel like it is a big misconception about the world that people are unfriendly. We're all just humans trying to figure this wild ride out and provide for our family while making new memories along the way. 

We pull up to this, our place of residency for the first and last day of our trip, Posada LunaSol. This started out as just a kayaking company, Mar y Adventuras, and they would take you out to the island and do the adventuring part less stylish. With success over the last 15 years they were able to expand into a full hotel with a perfect pool, a rooftop patio, and an eating area where they provided food to varying degrees. I loved all the potted plants, mostly cactus in the most color pots. Everything about this place was great! 

I didn't know what to expect in the beginning, a wonderful adventure or disaster at sea but I was ready for it and looking forward to some much needed time away from the fast pace that is my life. The first day out we took a panga, the local name for a small power boat with a roof for shade but also for carrying kayaks, to our campsite at Esenada del Candelero. This ride alone was worth it all. The water so clear and a hue of blue/green not seen in the PNW, anywhere. The wildlife so present and healthy, birds soaring overhead and dolphins swimming below the surface. The sky went on forever with not even a spec of clouds to be seen. It was paradise, at least it was mine for the week. 

The beach camp was fully set up when we arrived. I mean the kitchen, a dinning area with shade, two toilets, and all our tents. All we had to do was unpack our bags, which they also brought on the panga and enjoy the scenery. We got time to relax while lunch was being prepared and soak in the beauty all around us. There was a cooler full of Tecate too, which went down like water as we absorbed the sun.

 

The food was the most unexpected thing on the trip. It was all amazing and freshly prepared in the kitchen tent by the cook, Martin, with the help of the other staff, Angel and Alejandro. Everything had been so thoughtfully planned out and the recipes could have been in a for sale cookbook. I would have bought one along with others from the trip. There was even a daily Happy Hour at 6pm which included a snack and cocktail in a pot. The first night we had a tuna chipotle dip and Pina Coladas.

 

 There were no fires either since the island is protected and you'd have to carry all the supplies with you. It is a dry desert landscape almost all the way to the beach and to easily perishable. The moon was on it's way to full so we were never in need of light. We sat around the table well into the wee hours enjoying each others company and chatting about the world around us. What a magical place this big ball of dust really is. We heard stories from Miguel and Marco about the history of the island and how people used to live here regularly with next to nothing. What luxury we had around us even though Pit and I forgot pillows. 

 We awoke to coffee on the beach. Since everyone is not the same pace of riser that I am, I got to enjoy a few moments of silence and some inward thoughts paired with movement. I watched more sunrises in that week than I had in the last 10 years. It was heaven, at least my kind of heaven.

After everyone had drank up the coffee and we'd eaten yet another glorious meal, we prepared to kayak. The first few days were easy little paddles around our base camp maybe reaching 5 miles in length and took a few hours. Everyone got a feel for being on the water and paddling with their partner. The more strenuous days of working the water were ahead of us.

 

I was surprised the first day out how hot is got on the water. I was thinking I'd be wearing my bikini but most of us were in long sleeves and a life jacket (mandatory). There was even a spray skirt that I wore most of the time to protect my legs from burning because the sun was so intense. During out paddles out we were followed by the panga. This was for safety but also became useful for a beer delivery system. 

Upon returning to camp, it was Happy Hour again and the nights events unfolded. It was easy living in a rustic environment paired with great friends, new and old, our bellies filled with fresh fish tacos, and the stars overhead. We packed up the next day and hit the water early to paddle 17 miles to the other side of the island. Yes, you heard right, 17 miles to get to where we were camping. It seemed impossible but it was glorious. 

We were going to Bonanza Beach. It was a 3 mile long beach filled with beauty. Of course when we arrived camp was set up and we were all ready to explore our surroundings. After the 17 miles, most of us were just ready for Happy Hour. 

 

A life that was

Thoughts of you engulf my consciousness. 
I'm reminded of all you were and all you wanted to be.
I'm in awe of your strength, your courage, your love.
I feel the pain of your absence like a cold, hard downpour I can't escape, no cover to be found. 
I'm drowning while the world watches and there is nothing to be done but be wet. 
I put on a smile, cause who likes to frown but it feels raw, forced, bleak ahead. 
I'm trying. 
I'm trying to make sense of the senseless, the unattainable, the reality that is. 
If only I had a moment to connect again ...

If only I had a moment to connect again

I would hold you up,
like the sky holds the stars on a dreary night. 
Safe and secure up there in the vast darkness  
with room to shine their light so very bright upon the world. 

I would listen to your fears, your hopes, your dreams 
like the sand hears the waves at the ocean's end.
Constantly present, but never predictable,
quietly awaiting the next whispers to be spoken.

I would wrap you up in a blanket of love
like the sun does each morning with her gleam upon the surface.
Never wavering in occurrence and always there behind the clouds
bringing life and warmth to the world. 

You're gone and as the days fade on, 
I'm left to bare the pain, to bare the sorrow.
I'm trying

Baja adventures are coming ...

I've been to Mexico but not like this before! 

Kayaking around an island off the coast of Baja, Mexico for a week is my kind of travel. Nature, physicality, secluded beaches, wildlife, water play, sunshine and friends. Doesn't get any better than that, right? 

There are nine of us adventuring around the island. The group can hold up to 16 so there might be some additional like-minded travelers along for the ride. I love meeting new people and kinda hope it's a full trip. Part of travel, for me, is meeting folks from different backgrounds and places. Everyone had a story to tell and people are so very interesting. The amount of difference in the world is vast and when you get right down to it there is just as much similarity among us.

We are going to circumnavigate the island above, Isla Espíritu Santo, while camping along the way at pre-determined locations. This island is a nature preserve, so it's uninhabited and protected. We will gently be using the beaches as camp sites and the island with its pristine waters as our playground. You probably figured that there will be kayaking and lots of it. Each day we will rise and hit the water for two-four hours of paddling through the majestic waters to reach our next destination. There will be day hikes and strolls, the opportunity to swim with seals and other wildlife, fishing in the wee hours of daylight (if the want arises), and plenty of time to relax and enjoy our surroundings with each other. A few of the travelers in our party have done this trip before, years ago, so it's been nice to get their first hand account of the awesomeness this trip beholds.

It's not like we are roughing it either. The outfit we are going through, Kayak Baja, does most of the heavy lifting. They will be taking our camping supplies, food, and personal items along with them in their small boat that goes ahead of us kayakers to set up the next location's camp. We have to put up our own tent but meals and drinks are included and waiting for us upon arrival. Paddling, of course, is most of the trip but if your having a rocky day, you can lift your paddle into the air and hitch a ride on the boat. 

I'm looking forward to so many things about this trip; the natural beauty, laughter among friends, some splashing about and a place to really breath deep. Life is such a gift and I'm hoping to take it all in. I'm eager to practice yoga on the beach while listening to the waves of my breath and to just be truly grateful for the experience. I hope to connect with our fellow travelers and share life stories. 

Today

Today is all we have.

A temporary moment in space, passing far faster than we take notice.

A spec of life, on a ball of dust, floating amongst the stars.

Think about it. Really.

The one place that we can breath, the only place that we can grow.

The days seem to move slowly, 

lazily enjoying their time like the sun fading on a hot summer's night.

Passing in grace or at least trying for it.

The years, now those fly by without hesitation. 

A ride that ends to quickly and for some, before it really gets started at all.  

Tomorrow is neither promised or assumed.

 It is a gift to wake up alive 

 To breath in the air, to see through the eyes, to feel anything, 

to feel everything. 

No guarantee or assurance, only hope for more.

Endless possibilities await the stirrings of tomorrow.

Ideas take shape, wishes emerge, plans get created.

Hope fills us up to the brim, allowing creativity to overflow.

Unafraid and unabashed, it washes us over,

eager for tomorrow's bounty.

Yesterday is already gone. 

To late to change or choose, a distant recollection of thoughts,

our choices burned into memory.

Forever etched into the song of our being 

The silence brings peace, it also bring pain

The pain, the hurt, the frustrations.

It is all just a glimpse into our larger existence. 

It reminds us that there is purpose.

Not blindly going about, unaware of all 

but joyfully present in the life we are living
Today

Dengue Fever in Cambodia

When most people think of Dengue Fever they think of a debilitating viral disease of the tropics. It is transmitted by mosquitoes, and causes sudden fever and acute pains in the joints. It is not treatable or preventable so lots of people around the globe suffer and some even die from it. No need to worry though, I'm talking about the band, Dengue Fever.

Dengue Fever in Cambodia 

Their music is like nothing I'd ever heard before. It is a blending of 60's and 70's era Cambodian pop with a hybrid of surf and psychedelic classic rock. Their music is packed full of "lost" sounds, mostly Khmer covers that had been forgotten. The Cambodian genocide during the reign of Pol Pot in the late 70's almost wiped out this music as well as 3 million people. It is such a vibrant piece of cultural history, deviant in its survival through such devastation and Dengue Fever is keeping it alive.

"Sleepwalking through the Mekong", a 2009 Documentary featuring the bands trip through Cambodia was the first exposure I had to this beautifully moving music. Before our whirlwind trip through SE Asia in 2011 we watched it. I was captivated by the sounds, by the feelings their music invoked within me. I feel in love with her voice and just everything about this mixture of people and their production of music. It gave me a longing to see the country, to feel connected to it, to remember all that could have been and was lost, to not forget the music. That is what good music does, right? It transports you somewhere else, to a moment in time, a place you have long forgotten, a hidden connection we all feel to something greater than self.

Adventuring around Angkor Wat 

It was the music of our journey.  A five week adventure through four SE Asian countries; Thailand, Loas, Vietnam, and Cambodia. More to come on those adventures later. When we finally made it to Cambodia after almost a month of traveling we learned that Dengue Fever would be playing at a hotel in Siem Reap. I couldn't believe it, a chance to see them in person. When we tried to get tickets for their show, we found out that they were sold out except for hotel guest. Since we already had hotel reservations I wasn't sure we were going to get to see them. My partner, Pit, is amazing and loves me more than I thought possible. He surprises me everyday with the love he showers upon me and this situation was no different. He knew that I wanted desperately to go so he booked us a room at the hotel the night of the show and got us tickets to see them live.

Stage setup before the show

We were the first ones there. No big surprise to those who know me, I hate being late to anything. We got seats right up front, which were more like pillows on steps that faced forward and grabbed a drink from the bar. The people flooded in. It was a packed house and rightfully so, their music was different, a blending of sounds from times long since gone. The music was beyond my expectations and absolutely mind blowing in person. We had the time of our lives; dancing the night away with strangers in a foreign land to music that touched my soul. 

The reason I'm sharing all this now is because I just came across the photos from that amazing journey back in 2011. A picture really is worth a thousand words. While I was scrolling through the shots, my iTunes played Sleepwalking Through the Mekong. It was the first song I'd ever heard of their's and it still took my breath away. Her voice, as haunting and as touching as the recent history of Cambodia. As I sat there this morning with my coffee in hand, I was transported back to that jungle. A place that made me feel deeply and want to move with music that I could feel in my bones. 

I checked and they just so happened to have a new album being released at the end of this month and also just so happen to be touring through the PNW. I'm stoked to say I will be seeing them again, live in Portland sometime in February. Sure, it isn't as an exotic location as seeing them in Cambodia but I am looking forward to being transported back there, through the music they bring together. I'm also in need of some serious dancing! I need to shake, sweat, move about the energy within. 

Kona bound ...

I'm ready to get away

to drift in the waves

to lay in the sand

to be in the warmth of the sun 

We leave in a few weeks. I get so excited leading up to getting away on a plane. The first time I went to Kona I feel in love with the little town and the magic of the island. A great big rock in the sea surrounded by nothing but water, deep water. A dream of a life waking up here on a little spot, snorkeling my days away, and playing in the rich dirt of the land. Fruit trees to coffee, I would love a little tropical farm. 

There is so much to do but nothing needing to get done in this place. It is the perfect situation for me. The possibilities are endless as to how you fill your time with no expectation of well, anything. It still feels like a lost world, the beauty amazes me and the seclusion is wonderful. I've been to this place before but still find wonder in all its abundance.  

Not everyone can sit on the beach for hours on end in the infinite blaze but that I am someone who can. We will do this every day making it a ritual of sorts. Living in the Pacific Northwest (PNW), a place of great beauty but little sunshine, I will take all the glorious sunshine possible. I would bottle it up and bring it home if I could in pretty little yellow bottles. Instead, I bring home macadamia nuts. They seem to have the same effect on people, who knew.

Sitting still can be a hard thing to do for most people, me included but I find peace of mind turning inward and just listening to my breath, mimicking the waves, as I sit there for hours. There is nothing more pleasing than a few deep breaths on the beaches of this island. I'm starting to realize that peace is not necessarily a place to be or thing to have but a feeling that generates way down in the belly, somewhere lets say close to the soul.

I'm looking forward to the night snorkel with some giant manta rays the most. Yes, I'm talking in the water at night with big beast of the deep except they are gentle giants with no teeth or stingers that wont eat you. They just fly through the water, right up to you in fact, eating plankton attracted to the lights your holding. They have wing spans of up to 12 feet and gaping mouths that a small child could fit into. I won't lie, I screamed the first time one "belly rolled" me. It is like nothing I've ever done before and something I hope to do many times again. It's almost as good as my dream of getting into a shark tank.

After the night snorkel. It gets so cold the ride back

The night snorkel is just one of many water activities that we enjoy while on the island. We have our favorite snorkel spot to hit up during the day, most of them being close to Kona to limit the drive time. Two step is probably the best all around spot, while Captain Cook Monument is magnificent but takes much more effort to get out there or a chartered tour. I recommend at least one whale watching adventure. Getting to see the Humpbacks up close is so enriching and important for ocean preservation. We've even since a "pickle" before, which is a baby humpback jumping out of the water. It really does look like a pickle. We are going to get up on paddle boards this time around too. We own them here in the PNW but the ocean has a motion all its own.

It is a big island and the water surrounding it is not the only thing that as attractive qualities. Whether it's into an old lake bed covered with lava or down a steep ravine to a black sand beach, the hikes are endless. Some are more remote seeing only a few other adventurers along the way, while others are inundated with tourists. I never consider myself a tourist really, I don't like the word, it seems so trivial, so passing. Instead I'm someone looking for an adventure, a temporary local so to say. Doesn't it sound better? The hikes sometimes don't even have a destination but instead are loops that allow the walk, the trail to become the journey.

I will reflect this time around. Slowly enjoying the time to think, the time to breath, the time to appreciate all that is life. Taking time to be grateful for all that I have and all that I've lost this past year. It was here that I got the news my little brother, Skyler, was diagnosed with cancer. It was here I first felt helpless in the situation. The last few days on the island, I talked with him often but there was nothing I could do to help, to make it better. He told me to enjoy myself and have fun. He was so selfless even in his final days. I will always be reminded of him when we travel here. You might be gone little brother but you are far from forgotten! 

This island is magic, not the hocus pocus kind but the real shit. It has so much beauty draped across the mountains, laid among the reefs, and wrapped within the beaches. It is a sanctuary for souls, for people looking to escape the daily routine of life, and for those who just want a simpler existence. It is a healthy retreat for me to explore and dive deeper into life. 

Time...

The world is not the same.

Time seemed to stand still for a while, a hazy fog that I couldn't escape. 

Days running into each other like bummer cars at a carnival mindlessly moving. 

Now it rushes by with no relent, a snowmelt feed stream in the spring. 

Time is such a relative thing to us living, 

our whole lives are measured by it.

I can't help but count the days since you died. 

I'm in prison marking the walls until my release or your return, 

all the while knowing both are futile. 

I can not help it. 

We rush around, 

trying to make sense of the senseless,

day in and day out,

putting standards and motives on everything.

Time is endless and it passes 

with or without us.

When I stop long enough to stand still, 

I feel you next to me.

I know you are not gone but everywhere now.

You became apart of Time itself. 

I try to be slower, 

mindfully moving through the maze of life. 

Appreciating all the moments that make it up,

being thankful for the short time I got to spend with you. 

The world is not the same
 nor will I
ever be the same.

Gratitude...

An action. 

A constant choice to be reminded

 of what is wonderful around you,

within you.

To see all the good within the bad, 

to listen to your heart through heartache

and see flickers of the light within the darkness. 

It is always better 

to love more than you hate, 

to give more than you take. 

To be a little softer than you were before

and spread it like a wild fire.

I am grateful 

for my breath, that flows through me

bringing life to my senses,

for my body, that reaches for limits

I did not think I could attain,

for my thoughts, that push me ever forward

into the world of not knowing,

for my heart, that holds me up when 

I feel like falling down.

Travel and the least expected...

This trip as been amazing! Such wonderful things to see and experiance with so many amazing people and far off places. It makes me so grateful for my life, for all the things I got to do and memories I got to make. Getting sick is part of travel at times, for everybody, anywhere. The different spaces we live in around the globe have different beauties but also very different bugs. I'm not talking flies and mosquitos but parasites, bacterias, and viruses that our bodies are just not used to fighting off. That alone can keep people from traveling, from experiancing the beauty of a place, of the world. I try not to let that fear get in the way and instead proceed with caution. Tasting, nibbling, or at the very least enhaling deeply, my way through our travels. You never know until you try right, and people's diets are so varied amongst the world's inhabitants. 

That being said, I love to eat and I have a senstive stomach. I know it's not the best combination but I find a way. It's hard to not want to really get in there, try things that you've never had or heard of, explore the culinary delights of that new place you've begun to fall in love with. The smells can be intoxicating, emitting from the restaurants, throughout the streets and alleyways, and from open windows above with the sounds of families enjoying themselves inside. So much of a culture is wrapped around what it eats. Food, it brings people together and is something we all need. The temptations are ever present during travel, a battle from within; do you let your apprehensions to what the outcome could be stop you or do you dive right in, mouth first into the delicious, steaming plate of grilled meats and god knows what kind of salad and await the reprecussions?

Somewhere along the way I picked wrong. I thought I was being careful with food choices, washing my hands frequently, and we even used bottled water to brush our teeth, but unfortunately I was not careful enough. I got sick, really sick, I'm still sick. Traveling through Morocco is an experiance I will always hold close to my heart. The simple pleasures, ancient old crafts, the landscape, and the people with their ability to find smiles through such hardships. It changed the way I see the world and my privileged place within it.   

In Casablanca, Morocco, I was so sick Pit took me to the hospital. Those moments that turned into minutes will be forever etched in my memory. I was not only fighting some sort of infection internally, unbeknownst to me at the time, but I was in a third world hospital in a country where very few spoke English. I believe people are innately good and mean well but that doesn't always translate to our expectations of them. We went into a dark room through an open doorway, a street cat curled up on the floor under the counter window, where a women didn't seem that thrilled to see us, we'd reached Emergency Admissions. Pit tried communicating, she jotted down some information from my passport and I was whisked down a short hallway into a smaller room. People stared, maybe they'd never seen an American before and I knew I didn't look good. The nurses didn't understand me either, I started to cry, I was so afraid. When everyone around you is speaking French, it was a French colony for years, or Arabic and you're feeling like crude and you don't understand, its so hard to not fall apart. Pit was my light. I tried the best I could to explain the symptoms through basic hand gestures and was then pointed to follow another nurse to another room, a few doors down, deeper within. Barred windows were broken in places letting a slight warm breeze blow in. I could hear the traffic just outside & the stirrings of the other patients. The room had three other beds, all full. I got shown to mine and left for moment. My heart raced, I didn't know what was going on, I felt so horrible. Pit told me it would be okay. I didn't even want to sit on the bed, it had seen better days. The seperating wall between the patient spaces was filthy, splatters of dried blood and bodily fluids visible to my eyes. Everything was dirty. This couldn't be a real hospital, a place people went to get help. The nurse came back with a syringe in hand, ready to poke me. I protested, I didn't know what it was. I couldn't keep the tears from falling. Pit was my light, reiterating that I would be okay. I took the injection of whatever it was, potassium probably, and hoped for the best. I believe people are innately good and they wouldn't hurt me on purpose. That was it, no tempature check, no blood pressure, no blood samples to see what was actually going on inside, not even any real verbal communication between us. I got four prescriptions, no idea what they were at the time, and left the hospital to find a pharmacy. We walked a block, maybe two and found it. The pharmacists assisted us a little with archaic markings on the boxes to help us decode the instructions. Luckily we go a cab on the way back to our hotel that spoke some english and he helped decipher the medication as best he could. 

The next day we flew to Barcelona, Spain. I didn't feel any better but thought lets let the anitibiotics work their magic, took a shower, skipped eating, and went to bed. I awoke with pain throughout my whole body, my fever present almost 5 days now, something ravishing my innards. Pit found a hospital and we were on our way early. I was relieved to think it had to be better than what I experianced just two days before, but I was still scared. I didn't know what was wrong with me & I'd never felt this sick. After hours in the emergency room, being poked & prodded, blood tests, & talking with many emergency room doctors through broken English I was admitted to the Hospital de Barcelona. With no more information than I needed to stay & that I had an internal infection, I was staying put. At least I had drugs to help the with fever and the pain. 

The room was clean and private. The staff was attentive and sweet but Spanish speaking after all I'm in their country. Thank goodness I know some Spanish and my doctor, Dr. Ignasi Coll of internal medicine, speaks pretty good English. He has kind eyes, the kind that soothe without needing to say much. I've had tough moments in the hospital filled with doubt, fear, anxiety, the implacable desire to come home and be surrounded by familiar anything. I'm still here, going on day three with a needle in my arm for what seems like consistent antibiotics and fluids. I hadn't eaten in almost 3 full days, until this morning. I received toast and a piece of lunch meat ham for breakfast. The view is nice, 14th floor and I can see a tiny fragment of the Mediterranean Sea. Pit and I got to watch a lighting storm in the distance from my window just this morning. I'm starting to feel better too and hoping to get out tonight or tomorrow morning to embark on our long journey home.

I've never been so sick that I actually thought about how much I wanted to live, how much I have to live for, and how much good there is in the world that I want to be a part of. I've been shown my frailty in a very personal way and its hard to sit with. Earlier this year, I watched my little brother lose his short battle with cancer at just 21 and that has been very hard to sit with too. Our lives are so transient, fleeting into the eternal sublime, nothing being guaranteed. We are not all handed the same beginnings, the same privileges, but we are all susceptible to the same end. Moment by moment we choose to dive right in or hold back, temptations ever present. I'm going to dive in nonetheless, cautious yes, but unafraid of the impact it could have on me and more excited for the possible impact it could have on everyone else. 

A small window into the passing of time ...

The energy stirs, coldness creeping in, the light is no where to be found. Fog hovers over the rippled water, hugging it tightly, moving closer to where I sit. The stillness is comforting, a long lost friend that I'm all to familiar with. The wind softly rustling the leaves at a distance, a slow dance between the two. 

Memories of the past haunt,

like ghosts 

floating through your consciousness.

Lost in a moment, 

so long ago.

You can barley hear their voices.

Pain so real, 

it leaves you breathless.

To remember 

is to hurt all over again.

Then it's gone. 

A fleeting glimpse into what was,

a flash of what could have been,

abandoning your senses,

while awakening your soul. 

More stories from around Marrakech

Marrakech is a rich city in terms of history and culture. There is just so much to see and do that we just couldn't fit everything in. We divided our time up so we could see many spectacular things and spent much time walking through the souks.

We woke up early to get to the garden, looking to arrive before the bus loads of tourists. Yes, we are tourists too but we are staying in the medina, the old city, and are able to walk everywhere. Large groups of tourists are a good thing for this country and its people but not for us. The lines the bus loads produce are daunting. It was Jardin Majorelle, a botanical oasis created in the 1920s and 1930s by a Frenchman. It has plants from 5 different continents and lots of endemic bird species. It feels like a different world once you are inside the walls, its bamboo forest towers over us as we start to walk around. 

It had many water features, a museum which was being renovated, and a little cafe to enjoy coffee or snacks. There are pots everywhere filled with plants, let alone the ones in the ground. This garden is well looked after, probably because there is an admission fee charged. 

The blue that is throughout the garden is called Majorelle Blue. It is named after the garden's creator and is a clear, intense, fresh blue. The name and color was actually trademarked and is now used in pottery, tiles, and houses throughout Morocco. I was able to find some of its color powder in a spice market and am hoping to paint some pottery back home. 

I would live in this garden and could see why the painter wanted to create such a place to enjoy. It is a nice change of pace from the desert that surrounds you. So vibrant and colorful, filled with lots of water features and shady spots, with so much positive energy. 

 

Our next stop was the Ali ben Youseff Medersa. It is a very well preserved 16th century Koranic school. A place that as many as 900 students would come to study the Koran. Students of the Muslim faith came from all over the world to live here, learn verses, and pray. It takes your breath away to see it, such devotion; from the large framed entry way to the large open courtyard. The details so thought out and methodically placed, everything having a meaning and symbols of faith. There is intricate woodwork on the top, detailed plaster carved out in the middle, and mosaic tiles placed around the bottom. 

The sleeping quarters above were tiny spaces, not much room for anything more than sleeping. They were basic, think college dorm room but half the size and some without windows. There were these beautiful open spots though where you could see below or above and the detail, again so amazing. What time it must have taken to create and then you think they had to put it all together to make the space what it is. In the 16th century it was all manual labor, no machines or cranes to help you. That is devotion. 

This door on the second floor led up to an open space on the roof. It was all walled in, so no seeing out, but the sky was visible from above. Not sure what the space was used for but I like to call them the steps to heaven.  

We wandered around, taking it in, then walked around the corner to the Museum of Marrakech. It doesn't look like much from the outside and is small in comparison to the Louvre, but used to be a palace and was built in the end of the 19th century. It's large open atrium contains the largest centrally hung chandelier-esque ceiling piece I've ever seen! It wasn't one piece but instead consisted of metal plates decorated with fine geometric cuttings. It was filled with some paintings, photographs, and artifacts from around Marrakech. It was a nice blending of old and new things.  

We finished our exploring and walked through the souks. These are the marketplaces where you can find almost anything. I love the organization, with everything having its section and place, so you can easily find things. You can get lost, which is fun, just wandering around taking it all in. You have to always be paying attention though because scooters are everywhere, a mule could be coming up behind you carrying anything, and there are just people walking in every direction. Lots of tourists but also lots of local people making there way to and fro. It is easy to get distracted and shop keepers were always close by, trying to talk to you and get you to take a look. Since this country was occupied by the French until after WWII, most local people speak French here, as well as Arabic. Once we said we were from America, we got "hello" and "see you later alligator".

We continue our journey to Fez, another imperial city in Morocco.