Bring on baby

Nursery is done, and Lil P, as he's currently know, is nearly done cooking. Some pics while we wait.




Amy did a little artwork for the walls. The rug is one we picked out for the nursery in fall 2006, during our trip to Morocco.

Mo, Mo, Morocco

It was a year ago this evening that I sat atop a sand dune in the Sahara and watched the sunset, as shown in the photograph at the top of this blog and below in a painting by our friend Jim Torson.

To commemorate the anniversary of the trip, Amy made us a great dinner using spices we picked up in Chefchaouen.

Then we watched Hitchcock's "The Man Who Knew Too Much," which was filmed in Morocco, and includes the original version of the famous song "Que Sera, Sera."

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Words to live by, no?

Rhythm of the neighborhood

When we went to Morocco last September the one thing I was determined to come home with was a drum.

Well, I struggle to understand how almost an entire year has gone by since then, but I have got my money's worth and then some out of the little fish-skin topped instrument I brought back from Marrakesh.

Abdul hosts drum circles during the summer months at Mint Tea. I have no training, and no skills beyond a natural interest in and love for music. And really, that's all you need. We gather at 6:30 on, roughly speaking, the nights of the full moon. A bunch of folks from the neighborhood and beyond show up -- all ages, ethnicities, backgrounds -- and we just play. And play. And play. We sit on the sidewalk outside the store and, I swear, if you let it, if you let yourself get lost in it all, you can feel the stress come out of your fingertip each time your hand comes down to deliver another beat in the song.

We usually go for around two hours. My hands are numb when I get home and usually sore for two days afterward. And only part of that is because of hitting my drum's hard ceramic edges. The rest is just from getting so into it that you just zone out and play hard.

So, the third weekend of August is always our neighborhood festival - the Uptown Village Festival. We spent a good amount of time today walking up and down Main Street, checking out the classic cars and various vendors. Tonight, HBO was taping a comedy special in one of the stores, but I was counting the minutes until I'd get to go play that drum.

An African band played until 8 and then afterward a bunch of the regulars from Mint Tea's drum circle took over the festival's main stage and got to it. We played from 8 to 10, when we had to stop for the sake of people nearby being able to sleep. But man, what fun.

We started all out of rhythm, with no lead emerging to set the course. But, slowly, sort of like as discussed on a great podcast, "Radio Lab," I listened to last week, one emerged. And when it did, when we all came together -- 10 or so strangers on a stage in the middle of the street in the dark, with people walking by and looking at us funny -- it was a beautiful thing. Strangers climbed on stage and joined in. Others stopped to dance in the street. Some just paused and smiled. But it was one of those magical little moments that reminds me why I love this neighborhood. Abdul and I, I was thinking, could just as easily have been playing on Jemaa el Fna in Marrakesh, amid the snake charmers and all-night food vendors and barbers.

Sorry, no pictures. I was too busy playing. But there's one more drum circle scheduled at Mint Tea this year -- on Aug. 28. Maybe then I'll take some pictures. Either way, I'm looking forward to it already.

Faith in travel, II

The New York Times has a great story and photos up today (Sunday in the print edition) on Fez, one of our favorite cities from the trip we took about six months ago to Morocco.

It includes this passage:

Fez seems to have stopped marking time several centuries ago (cellphones and occasional soccer jerseys aside). And like the water clock, this mazelike city of minarets, shrouded figures and forgotten passages can seem impossible to decipher — yet tinged with a deep enchantment.

“It’s a mysterious place,” said Abdelfettah Seffar, a craftsman and cultural entrepreneur, as he stood on the roof of a beautiful but dilapidated 18th-century Moorish estate that he is restoring into a vast guesthouse and arts center. “It’s even a mystical place.”

Mysterious and mystical, indeed. Our friend and fellow traveler Jim Torson opened his show of Morocco-inspired paintings last night in Vancouver. It captures about as much of that essence I imagine is possible to do on canvas. (If you're a Vancooterite, or even live just across the river, it's worth a trip to Northbank to check it out. And for those who may have seen his Springbox show in the Pearl last month, I have to say, this one is even better. Many more pieces of his work.)

Nice to catch up with many of our friends from the trip, drink a lot of mint tea, nibble some of Fatna's real Moroccan cookies and do a wee bit of drumming. (Hope there will be more of that as the weather improves.) But the best part, in my book, was seeing so many people pour through the gallery over the course of the night and find connections to that stunning and magical place half a world away, all through the beauty of a Jim's art and Abdul's generosity in putting the trip together in the first place.

At last, a first

Six or so years after moving to town, and a few months after finally moving - at least temporarily - to working days - I made it to what's known as First Thursday. It's an art-gallery walk in the downtown area that has been so successful various other Thursday night art walks have sprung up elsewhere in town.

Quentin and I met up after work (Amy was at the restaurant late) and headed to Springbox, where a friend, Jim Torson, is showing. Amy and I met Jim and his wife, Sally, on our trip to Morocco. Jim's an artist, and he's created a beautiful collection of paintings from scenes and memories of his travels. In addition to seeing Jim again, I got to catch up with a few of our other Morocco traveling companions.

The show is well worth a look. For me, it brings back lots of wonderful memories of our trip. For others, it's a striking glimpse of what makes Morocco and its people so special. We just might have to find a way to get one of Jim's pieces for our house.

He's showing at Springbox throughout March. After that, his show comes to North Bank, on Vancouver's version of First Thursday in April.

Mexico slide show

I so liked how our Morocco slide show turned out that I've gone back and created one for our Mexico trip, too. It can be found here, now, and permanently under "Mexico: 04.06" on the Escapes and Escapades section on the right-hand rail.

In the thick of winter, maybe these pictures of sunny Mexico will brighten otherwise dreary days.

Enjoy.

Why we travel

The New York Times has an appropriately headlined travel piece up, Under Morocco's Spell. The story is longish, but check out the audio slide show if you're just after the essence.

The story is based in the High Atlas mountains, which we crossed during our drive north from the Sahara into Marrakesh. Stunning doesn't begin to describe the vistas.

At the end of the slide show the reporter says:

"We live in complicated times and you read the paper and get a sense of a very dangerous and threatening world. And then you travel abroad and you meet people who defy all expectations and any over-simplifications that you might develop sitting at home by yourself in America."

Not to sound too preachy about it, but that's exactly the sentiment that sticks with me from our travels this year.

In April, we visited Oaxaca in the days before Easter, when it was rich with religious symbolism and pageantry. Shortly afterward, the city turned into a riot zone with protesters beginning a months-long occupation of the zocalo where we sat and ate fresh pastries and listened to the scratchy whisk-whisk of people using brooms made from twigs to sweep the promenade clean.

In September, we flew into Casablanca in the days before Ramadan. Three years earlier, Islamic extremists' suicide bombings had killed more than 40 people in that city. Terrorism-related arrests continued in the days and weeks before our trip. But despite some concerns people raised going in, the joy of why we travel - the beauty of defied expectations and unraveled over-simplifications, if you will - unfolded before us time after time in our two-week journey all over Morocco.

It was true in the High Atlas. It was true in the Rif. It was true in the Sahara and in the souks. The fear of the unknown, of assuming the worst of anything unfamiliar, is so prominent in this increasingly isolated post-9/11 world. But its fallacy was never more clear to me than when we sat on a rooftop in Fez at sunset, 14 Westerners utterly transfixed and silenced by the beauty of the call to prayer slowly starting, building volume, echoing around that ancient city and into our brains. The reverberations were powerful enough to shatter any preconceived notions of Islam.

So, for me at least, that's the why we travel: To shed some of that baggage we allow ourselves to be burdened with at home. Without fail, we come back lighter for the experience.

Housekeeping

As you can see, we've redesigned the site. Here's hoping it's better organized and easier to follow. I was sick of the old, original look. Plus, I just like how the photos pop off the new black backdrop.

Beyond the changes in color and typography (both straight from a Blogger template), new features include:

• Neighbors - links to some family and friends
  
• Escapes (and escapades) - links to this year's Mexico and Morocco trips
  
• Tags - a key-word organizing system to search posts by content

Also, Amy has started her long overdue foodie blog over at The Dinner Hour. Check it out. She'll be writing about food, its role in culture, kitchen tips and tricks and, of course, translating her knack for making up a dish on the fly into easy-to-follow, step-by-step recipes.

Leave a comment here or there to let us know what you think.

In other news:

• Finally got to see James McMurtry in concert. Fitting that we went with friends Mike and Susan, who introduced us to his music in the first place. Line of the night, upon introducing "Choctaw Bingo," "This is for all the crystal methodists in the house..." The man may live in Texas, but he's got Oklahoma down pat.
• We're off next weekend for a crabbing trip at the coast with friends.
  
• More to come on Morocco. The day-by-day retelling was boring even me. So instead, I'll be writing about highlights from various cities as the mood strikes, as with the recent piece on Marrakesh. Look forward to the stories of my new scars - plural. See, this guy wanted to barter for Amy...
  

The magic of Marrakesh

We've been back for around two weeks now, and Morocco is still as fresh in my mind as the smell of just-squeezed orange juice served in the sprawling main square of Marrakesh.

I can't get the country - that city, specifically - out of my head.

I was sitting at work last Friday, about 4 o'clock Portland time, watching the rims fill up and knowing a long night was ahead of me. My mind drifted back to Jemaa el Fna, where it was 11 o'clock.

I imagined Amy and I, sitting at the cafe we'd visited days ago, perched on a raised patio overlooking that giant square, sharing a bottle of wine we'd managed to scare up from a friend with connections. Ordering on paper because the waiter speaks French and we know nothing beyond "Oui." Watching the blur of humanity drift back and forth in every direction at once. Listening to the buzz of thousands of voices, picking up bits of conversations left and right in the late-night, fast-breaking revelry of Ramadan. Arabic here. Berber and French there. Some Spanish and German in that direction. Tidbits of Dutch behind us. And, at our little table for two, laughing as we realize we are inadvertently bouncing from English to Spanish to the little bit of Arabic we know.


Then later, warmed by each other and the wine as the desert air cools, we stroll through the square itself, people-watching up close. So close you brush shoulders, smell new aftershaves and catch flashes of eye color deep in the throng. Surrounded by people in every direction, alive and full of life, as midnight nears. The snake charmers and fortune tellers, just waiting to spin their magic, it seems, directly into your soul. The restaurant barkers, the call of their voices no match for the aroma of their food, but both working to lure you to their table for another in an endless menu of dishes whose spices are sure to dance on your unfamiliar tongue. The musicians, their rhythms rolling out of the drums and pinging off the banjo strings, washing across the onlookers and working into our ears, flipping some switch in our brains and involuntarily setting some part, any part, of our bodies into motion -- hips swinging here, a head nodding there, maybe just a toe tap, tap, tapping halfway around the world from all you knew before.


Now, back here, I find myself reading all sorts of pieces about the place I just visited. Stuff I'm sure must have run all the time before, but stuff I never noticed.

Maybe it's my little attempt to keep a piece of the Moroccan spirit present in me today rather than tucked away as a memory to be recalled in some distant tomorrow.

Here's a great quote from one such piece, a profile of Spanish expatriate novelist Juan Goytisolo, from The New York Times Magazine:

"People ask, 'Why do you live in Marrakesh?'" Goytisolo told me with a chuckle. "I ask them, 'Have you seen it?'" In Jemaa el Fna, Goytisolo explained, he finds all the heterogeneity that is in danger of disappearing from Western cities. "In the '70s, when I was very poor, I was offered a permanent teaching post in Edmonton. I realized I would rather starve in Marrakesh than be a millionaire in Alberta."

So as all the pressures, the demands of work, the stresses of life try to creep back into my brain, here's hoping that Moroccan mojo helps fend them off and keeps me balanced in ways I wasn't before the trip.

Perspective, I suppose, is everything. And my view from Marrakesh is mesmerizing.

Slideshow: Third time's the charm... I hope

Well, damnit.

I can't get the slideshow to embed in a posting. Worse still, for some reason Blogger's not letting me delete the two bogus attempts to embed it.

So for now, you'll have to go view it on the Flickr site where I built it:

Morocco '06 slideshow

(Thanks to Quentin for the great tip on batch-processing the photos to resize them for the Web. Saved a ton of time.)

To repeat, here's some notes for your guided tour:

The 150 pictures - we edited down from 700-plus, I swear! - run in this sequence:

1. Casablanca
Scenes from Hassan II Mosque

2. Rabat
Begins with a bureaucratic-looking building

3. Children from around the country
Awwwww...

4. Chefchaouen
Begins with landscape shot of this town, famed for its blue-washed walls, in the mountains

5. Volubilis, Meknes and Fez
Begins with the ruins of Volubilis, then on to the gate and market of Meknes and then to the skyline view of the overwhelming, ancient and mosaic-filled Fez

6. On the road
If only I could pair this up with a good travelin' song

7. Sahara and the south
Starts with Amy at an oasis, followed by me playing in the world's largest sandbox

8. Marrakesh
The sign makes clear you've arrived at our favorite city

9. Essaouria and Casablanca
The gulls at the coast swarm Essaouria's "Castles Made of Sand," then it's back the Casablanca for one last night before flying home.

You can set the display time between 1 and 10 seconds, to take as long (our family) or as little (everyone else) as you'd like with each image.

Enjoy.

Day 1, cont.: Rabat

After visiting the Hassan II Mosque, we drove about an hour north to Rabat. With around 1 million people, it's considerably smaller than Casablanca. And being the nation's capital, the city has a certain bureaucratic feel to broad swaths of its newer streets and architecture.



Here was our introduction to something we'd see across Morocco: Ville nouvelle versus medina. Or, more simply, new city versus old city. Each town's original core - the medina - is like a city unto itself, often nestled behind the walls that centuries ago offered protection. Crossing those walls, we learned, was like stepping into a different world.


The streets inside the old cities are narrower, more congested, but not with cars. Instead, people are everywhere on foot and on bike. Horses, donkeys and people haul all sizes of two-wheeled carts. Everything seems to be in a constant state of motion. There's no block-by-block grid. And the buildings, if not actually tying on to the ones adjacent to it, look as though they could slouch against one another for support if too exhausted to stand fully erect after centuries of use.




Although nondescript from the street, the buildings were generally astonishing on the interior, as we observed at our lunch stop, the Center for Cross-Cultural Learning. Our guide compared it, in a sense, to the princple of the veil many Arab women wear. The outside world sees little of the wonders within.


After filling our stomachs and resting a bit, we heard a presentation on Islam that gave us a good base of knowledge for the rest of the trip. We were fading fast after so much travel and so little sleep. So soon the group headed to the first hotel, got cleaned up for dinner and got to sleep.

Day 1, cont.: Casablanca

We hit the ground running, heading from the airport directly to the Hassan II Mosque, whose 689-foot minaret is the world's tallest.

The site is considered the apex of North African Islamic architecture.

Overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and named for the former king, the site was built between 1986-1993 with money raised by public subscription.

It made for a stunning introduction to the Muslim world, spinning into a discussion of the principles of Islam and the importance of mosques in the layout of cities.

Day 1: Portland to Casablanca

From Seth's notebook:

The sun has just risen before us - filling the cabin with a pink-to-orange-to-red glow at 30,000 feet - minutes before we're to land in Morocco.

What a welcome to Africa. And what a way to shake off the groginess from 24 hours of travel. We left our doorstep at 3:40 a.m. Saturday, lifted off the ground at PDX at 6:10 and now are about to touch down in Casablanca around 7 a.m. the next day. It's sure to be a whole new world to us.

I've been reading the 9/11 issue of The New Yorker on and off during the trans-Atlantic flight. We've heard a lot of subtle and not-so-subtle concerns from people about this vacation. And the international terminal of JFK might well have been the most diverse place this Oklahoma kid's been until, well, a few more minutes from now. I've started into a timely article by George Packer, who is also from Oklahoma if I remember right. It includes this passage to bear in mind as we start this trip:

"Islamism has taken on the frightening and faceless aspect of the masked jihadi, the full-length veil, the religious militia, the blurred figure in a security video, the messianic head of state, the anti-American mob. At Islam's core, in the countries of the Middle East from Egypt to Iran, tajdid and islah (revivial and reform) have helped push societies toward extremes of fervor, repression and violence.

But on the periphery, from Senegal to Indonesia - where the vast majority of Muslims live - Islamic reform comes in more varieties than most Westerners imagine. At the edges, the influence of American policy and the Israeli-Palestinian siege is less overwhelming; and it is easier to see that the real drama in Islam is the essential dilemma addressed by (Mahmoud Muhammed) Taha [whom the article is about]: how to revive ancient sacred texts in a way that allows one to live in a modern world."

Judging from what I've seen so far -- from the adorable boy wearing a "soccer champ" shirt sitting with his mother and grandmother, both with heads covered and wearing full-length jalabas, or the woman in the flowing sunny yellow robes and head scarf complete with the Georgia Tech logo - I have to agree.

Here's to the beginning of what's sure to be an amazing and eye-opening two weeks, for us and others, I hope.

Meet our guides and driver:

MOUDEN ABDESLAM
A childhood friend of Abdul's from Chefchaouen, we call him Abdeslam. He is president of a professional guide association in Chefchaouen, where he still lives. In his late 30s, he's married with one child, a son. He speaks Arabic, Berber, Spanish, French, English, for starters.

ABDELMOUGHIG AKDI
Our friend in Vancouver, the inspiration behind this trip, goes by Abdul. He owns the Mint Tea import store in our neighborhood with his wife, Jenna. In his late 30s, he's married with one child, a son. He speaks Arabic, French, English, and maybe a little Berber and Spanish.

OMAR
A friend of Abdeslam's who lives in Tangier, he is our driver for the trip. Abdeslam wanted him, in particular, behind the wheel after working with him in the past. He's married with one child, a son, whom we'll meet along the way. He speaks Arabic and French, and a little Spanish.

Morocco: We're back

We're back. We're tired. And we're so happy we went.

We'll write about the trip and post more pictures in the days and weeks to come. For now, however, here are some of our favorite pictures from the two-week trip.

Sunset in the Sahara

Giddyup.

Befriending the blue men guides.

Cooking on Marrakech's main square.

Rugs in Marrakech.

Tanning Fes' hides.

Cooking in the souqs of Fes.

Fes mosaic in detail.

One of Fes' main gates.

The markets - olive, anyone? - of Meknes.

Essaouria, which inspired Jimi Hendrix's "Castles Made of Sand."

Ordering lunch at a roadside cafe.

On the way to class.

The streets of Chefchaouen.

More from Chefchaouen.

Abdul's mom says goodbye from the family home in Chefchaouen.

Where do you insert the pump?

Forget Paris. We'll always have Casablanca.

marrakech day 2

day 2 in marrakech began with a tour of the souq - the maze-like market in the sprawling medina

saw everything from metalwork to ceramics to carpets to all varieties of animals - from beasts of burden hauling massive loads of goods to critters or parts of them bound for a plate somewhere for dinner in town tonight

plus we got to meet many friends of abduls

then broke off from the group for a nice lunch and people watching in the giant main square

then amy and i went to a private hammam -- a spa-like place where we had two-plus hours of steamrooms, scrubbings and massages

ahhhhh

we feel like jello

now we are hanging out at the riad before dinner

tomorroiw we drive to the coast and essouria

marrakech

we are now in marrakech
arrived here after a few days in the sahara, where we battled through some food poisoning but now we are well
had a beautiful drive through the high atlas mountains
whew
they take those curves fast
staying at another beautiful riad, a bed and breakfast type place tucked away in the bustling medina
tomorrow we are off for some more shopping in this city that has the largest market in all of africa
seth got his drum
also got a clean shave with a straight edge razor for 2.50 usd
watched drumming, snake charmers and monkeys in the square
on wednesday we head to the coast for a day on the beach
still having a great time as we near the end of the trip
cannot wait to share photos and stories
take care

Technical difficulties

The keyboards here are nuts. Because of that - and the fact we would rather go see more of Chefchaouen than the interior of one of its cybercafes, we am giving up hope of long-form blogging during this trip.

We are both keeping detailed journals, however, and will post from those upon returning.

The trip so far is better than we ever imagined. And we have great pictures, too.

The food has been amazing such as the lamb we had today where we watched the butcher cut it up. We are having lots of fun and feel safe. Our guides are great.

That is all from here for now. We are off to dinner.

Packin'

In order to pack light, I have now made three trips to Target, two trips to Columbia, two trips to REI, two trips to GI Joes, a trip to Walgreens and a trip to Safeway.

I've searched the pharmacy shelves and shoes stores for just the right medicine, shoes, and dozens of other American staples.

The absurdity of all of my shopping hit me as I spent time sighing in the aisles. I was looking for a gift to take to Abdul's parents, who will host us for a dinner in his hometown in Morocco. The typical hostess gift -- a bottle of wine, flowers, a candle -- seemed inappropriate or downright impractical.

So, I called Abdul's wife, Jenna, and asked her for a suggestion. She paused for a second, thinking.

"Socks," she said. "Something nice and warm. It's about to get cold there, and they have cement floors. Oh, and some nice smelling soap. They only sell two kinds of soap there, and one's this paste, it's yuck."

Socks and soaps. She went on to tell me that any gently-used piece of clothing would be nice to hand off to Abdul's sister.

Socks, soaps and old sweaters.

I suspect that if I showed up at an American's house with such practical gifts, I'd either make a great story for the hostess' next cocktail party, or I'd be made to feel sheepish as the socks sat on a bar next to Pinot Noir and brie. I can just imagine myself saying, "I just thought this sweater would fit you, and I'm kinda tired of it after three winters."

I expect I would be treated wonderfully with gift or no gift in the home of Abdul's parents. It's amazing, though, that socks and soaps could foster such a beautiful relationship with otherwise strangers.

I cannot wait to share a meal with them. Bowls full of food, glasses steaming with tea and baskets full of bread. And the socks and soap.
-Amy

Morocco itinerary, cont.

I knew this was going to be one long haul, but I hadn't run the numbers until today. From doorstep to doorstep, we're scheduled to travel 14,041.5 miles by plane and car. That's like traveling from Portland to Oklahoma City and back nearly five times. Minus a brief camel excursion, all our travel in Morocco will be via auto. And thankfully, we won't be doing any of the driving.

I've also updated the itinerary map with more specific day-by-day information so relatives, if they're so inclined, can easily pinpoint just where we'll be and when we'll be there.