In Ruins

After two days in Marrakech, I was feeling pretty overwhelmed.

Not only was it hard to see these poor donkeys everywhere in homemade harnesses, pulling heavy loads on unkept hooves and then sitting in the sun all day without food or water, but the humanity was starting to get to me. The constant badgering and pushy sales tactics was really too much. I got a bit dismayed- was all of Morocco going to be like this? I don't think I could have done two weeks if it had been, but no, it wasn't. It did get better.

But first it had to get worse.

Thinking an hour in a hamman would do me so good, I found a nice one to sweat out the toxins. It's basically a steam room, and then this woman takes a scrubby mit, slathers you with various clays and exfoliants and gives you a good brusque rubdown before dousing you with cold water. Fun, right? Except 20 minutes after my treatment, I started vomiting uncontrollably and my entire body swelled up and broke out in an itchy red rash. Something that got slathered was not doing me good at all.

So I spent the next couple weeks covered in itchy red hives and scabs, which multiple pharmacy visits and Claritin did nothing to help. Really attractive stuff here. There will forever be a lack of pictures of me enjoying myself on this trip. Being ill in the 3rd world is never a good experience. If it's not life threatening, just deal with it.

But I'm tough. Eh, tough-ish. Plus, women are supposed to be covered from head to toe at all times, so it didn't really matter that I looked like a leaper. Huzzah!

Back to Marrakech, where the air was so clean, I felt like I was smoking a couple packs of unfiltered cigarettes every day.

At night especially. As soon as the temperature dropped, the smog set in so thick it was hard to see more than a couple blocks ahead.

The Square at night turns into a series of open-air restaurants, all with the same menu. Lots of Tangine to be had.

There are tons of Mosques in the city, but you are only allowed in if you are Muslim. It kind of limited the amount of cultural sites open to Westerners. Kutubiyya Mosque is the largest, and almost 900 years old. The stonework was really spectacular.

The Saadian tombs are also worth a gander.

Exploring the ruins of Badii Palace. There was nothing really there but stray cats and nesting storks, but the sheer enormity of the site was impressive.

The skyline was made of minarets, satellite dishes, and the Atlas mountains.

Tiptoeing Quietly Through Marrakech

While Marrakech is one of the biggest cities in North Africa, if you have a few dirhams in your pocket, you can find quiet. While parks and trees are non-existant in the medina, you can find some peace in the inward-facing courtyards of former palaces and mansions of the well-to-do.

The architecture and the decorative aspects of the palaces were stunning. Many of them were hundreds of years old. Morocco has the distinction of being very close to Europe- it's only 10 miles of water between Spain and Tangier. Because of that small separation, this became a bit of a cultural crossroads. Arabic, Spanish, Berber and Jewish influences are seen in the art and architecture. The French occupied most of the country for 100 years, so after Arabic, everyone speaks French and almost all the signs and documents were in French.

The Marrakech Museum was housed in a former palace. The size and grandeur of the chandelier rivals that of the Paris Opera House.

My favorite was the Ben Youssef Madrasa. A former Islamic college started in the 14th century, it was almost completely empty and open for exploring. It was denuded of furniture, but a quiet spot by the pool in the courtyard was completely peacefull, with the occasional tourist taking breaks and naps in the bright sunshine.

Watching the light move across the courtyard in the late afternoon...

I was in love with the zillij tile work, and the flowery Arabic script that lined the entire courtyard, interrupted only by a grand door.

The keyhole-shaped doors. Everywhere in Morocco, this was the standard shape of the door frame, with huge ceder, oak and brass doors fitted in them. I could see myself ganking this design element for future, personal use.

Despite it being fairly hot in the sun, the moment you moved into the shadows or the thick walls of the building, it became almost unbearably cold.

Back to the streets, to play a game of dodgebike.

Marrakech

Arriving in Marrakech is a bit of a shock to the system. I don't think I had actually seen the sun since leaving New York in November, and suddenly, what might this giant yellow fireball be? Also, there are scooters darting and donkeys pulling carts and I'm pretty sure that car we just passed is on three flat tires and a rim but still being driven.

Djemaa el Fna is the huge square, and the center of the city. It's pure insanity, day or night. Snake charmers, dancers, singers, storytellers, monkeys in diapers, henna artist, and even small children boxing each other was all seen within the first 10 minutes of wandering around.

Like everyone who has ever been here, we got totally lost in the narrow, twisting streets of the Medina. Everything we found and saw was pure happenstance.

The thousand-year old souks were sprawling and packed with people, and scooters without mirrors were weaving their way through the crowds. An amazing symphony of noise and colors and smells.

This wasn't the place to go if you wanted a relaxing break from it all (and no alcohol to make things easier to deal with either). We were constantly being harassed and hassled. If you stop to look at the map, dozens of children offer to show you where you need to go (for a fee), if you are going away from a shop that a merchant wants you to stop in, you are told that the "way is too dangerous" and they will try to hook you in. It was hard to take a breath without uttering, "Non, merci" or figuring out who to trust.

The craftsmanship was outstanding though. The leatherwork, the metal-smiths, the jewelry, the rugs, the pottery. It seemed as though there wasn't a square inch of free real estate anywhere, and anything you wanted could be had for a price.

It might have been the most overstimulated I've ever felt.

FO: Sylvatica

Before I get into the rabbit hole of all the travel adventures, here's a sweater I made. LOOK.

Once upon a time, there was a really great online yarn store called Flocks of Yarn. Sadly, they went out of business. Happily, I am an opportunist. I bought up all the Fibre Company Road to China Light for a really steep discount.

If you get a chance to get your hands on some, please do. It's a blend of alpaca, silk, baby camel and cashmere. To die for. Obviously, not cheap.

I did bring this with me to France and decided to start an epic sweater with it. I choose the Sylvatica from Twist Collective, which I've been wanting ever since it came out. I love short-sleeved light sweaters. I generally have a couple of light sweaters like this in the wardrobe rotation. They are less casual than a t-shirt, and they look great paired with skirts...

....Or hiking boots and pants, if you happen to have been banging around in the mountains that day.

I loved the lace pattern in the front, but found it kind of silly to have one mirrored in the back, so I left that out.

I still need to find buttons for it. I'm thinking tiny pearly pink ones will do nicely.

I'm wearing a sports bra in these pictures, so normally I fill out the top portion a bit more. But, eh. That's traveling for you.

Yes, I love it. It's soft and drapey and I've worn it quite a bit already.

The only thing I might do differently is the arm scythe is a bit snug, but after a couple of wears it seems to have loosened up. It's infinitely wearable, and just a good all-round sweater to own.

I did have issues getting gauge, and knit this a few inches before realizing it was going to be enormous. I ripped back, did some math, and then cast-on for the smallest size. I also worked this in the round instead of flat.

While a sweater with fingering-weight yarn on #3 needles takes quite a while, I think the results are worth it.

The pictures were taken in the tiny mountain village of Chefchouen. All the buildings in the medieval medina are painted blue! It was a really beautiful place, and I'll have lots more about it later.

Bonne année!

Hello, Happy New Year!

I'm back from a really good long adventure. It was hobbitesque even, and I'm still sorting through the 1500 pictures that I took and the stories that they tell, and just kind of recovering mentally from the whole thing.

So, here. Before it gets to be April or May and while we are still currently in galette des Rois season (PS- they are nothing like that bastardized version from New Orleans that I love, but more on that later), here are some pictures of Paris right before Christmas.

I caught these people, with their pretty man-mannequin, trying to hail a cab up near Pigalle. The menfolk were stressed, but the woman was just laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Christmas shopping is the same everywhere. Awkward, tiring, and stressful enough to convince me the giving handmade gifts is the way to go.

They do embrace Christmas with gusto here. There is no Halloween or Thanksgiving to kick off the festive season, or to distract and steal thunder from Christmas. It just changes overnight, and suddenly it becomes Christmas. The department stores are slathered in LED glows and bows and the grocery stores have a huge section of Champagne and chocolates that I've never seen before. I developed an alarming habit out of Baru chocolaté covered marshmallows with a good glob of salt caramel sandwiched in there for good measure. I'm almost glad they stopped stocking them at the local Monoprix, but that doesn't keep me from hopefully searching for them each and every time I'm in there. If you ever see these babies in the store, my advice is to buy them all.

The lights were amazing. I had it in my head that there would be more pure, white lights and traditional decorations. Oh, how wrong I was. It was all neon. The Champs-Élysées looked like it was auditioning for a role as the "new Las Vegas".

There was a huge Christmas market that lined both sides of the Avenue starting at Concorde (oh, there is no "happy holidays here. Just the un-PC Christmas to shake things up.). It was a touristy overkill, but I was happy being a tourist since I felt like I had been avoiding all things holiday-like for almost all of December as I am a well-documented scrooge in the sense that I think we should be happy and giving to people all year around and it's just too bad that it's socially reserved for this one time of year.

These aren't my best shots as, quite naturally, it was raining, and balancing big camera with umbrella in a crowd wasn't the easiest activity for someone with very limited athletic ability.

The holidays are apparently just too much for these gingerbread men. So young. So much delicious potential.

Oh, and the parties. Americans love to be entertained and any excuse for a gathering is a good one, and we know a whole lot of expats that get an odd homesickness this time of year. Only one thing will help ease the dark-day blues: Cheese, and lots of it, with a healthy dose of vino thrown in. While the goat cheese that announces spring is a little scarce right now, there are plenty of good aged cheese that are perfectly ripe right now.

Another ex-pat friend of ours helped us to discover the joys of Alsatian Charcroute:

A huge pile of homemade sauerkraut topped with unthinkable amounts of roast pork, pork belly, and a vast variety of sausages slathered with a healthy bit of spicy mustard.

It was also a great way to load up on pork products before an expected drought. Where I ventured next there would be a scarcity of bacon:

I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday and that this coming year is amazing.