We are nearing the one month mark of our return from Morocco, and so we turn to these: images that keep us close to an experience that is quickly fading from our daily reality. We still sometimes say "shokran" instead of "thankyou," and will occassionally burst into giggles while saying "Scuse me" and recalling the sweet way Tahara insistently repeated her five-word English vocabulary. But it is difficult to keep a daily vigil of remembrance of Morocco when we are immersed in a completely different context, where characters like Omar or patterns of daily life (like waking up to the dawn [View Full Entry]

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I suppose it is to be expected that we finally feel like we are getting good at living in Morocco as soon as we are bound to leave. With only seven days left it seems as though we are just mastering some of the basic tasks of daily living. I refer mostly to the fact that I just successfully pulled off a feat of rather impressive qualifications. From the moment of my arrival in my new home in Fes I was immediately in love with my rooftop room—gorgeous views of the medina bowl during the day (black smoke rising from the [View Full Entry]

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For Meg's last weekend in Morocco we headed to Chefchaouen, a quaint mountain town just five hours outside of Fes, known for its brightly painted blue buildings and its drugs. Despite its reputation as a mecca for drug-tourists in Morocco--and the constant pestering that it brings from local youth trying to make their share of profit--the town is actually quite charming. The medina is small and the lanes wind up and down the mountain, past houses that have been whitewashed and painted in varying shades of Smurf blue. There isn't much to do in Chaouen (as it is called by the [View Full Entry]

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Siham is hunched over a bowl of harira, her mother snoring under a blanket on the cushion between us, an Egyptian political talk show playing in the background. “I have an idea,” she says in her high, femine voice (well-suited to her small frame and perfect for high-pitched Berber singing). “A small idea.” “I think that everyone who travels cherche something. You understand me?” My sister and I nod encouragingly. We are facing her from the opposite segment of the couch, tucking our feet under the blanket that we share with her father. Before we can [View Full Entry]

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Today marks another of the sad partings of our Fassi household: Anna, Mohammed and Elias are on a train to Casablanca, where they will catch a series of flights that will deposit them in Baltimore, Maryland. It's an exciting change: for the first time since Elias was born two years ago, he will get to live with both his father and mother in the place that he calls home most of the time. But of course it's also mildly heartbreaking to think of Anna (leaving her djellabah behind), Elias (without Tahara to feed him or Omar to play with) and especially [View Full Entry]

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It was a quad-continental re-union. Meg flew from India to hang out with MC and I in Fes, and then the three of made our way (via Barcelona) to Madrid, where we met Katie Wang, recently arrived from New York. The four of us set about to explore the city that lives in the shadow of Barcelona; we found it more charming than we expected and spent most days wandering the streets and navigating the metro map. The trip was made possible by Katie Wang's Thanksgiving break from teaching, so we set about to have a (somewhat) proper Thanksgiving at our [View Full Entry]

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photos from Barcelona. and now, on to Madrid... [View Full Entry]

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Two days ago I quickly posted a blog about the world being small, and then I rushed off with Meg (who had recently flown in from India to travel with us) and MC to the Fes airport to catch a flight to Barcelona. We flew for less than $30 on RyanAir, one of the many super-cheap airlines that is helping make the world an easier place to explore. The seats were plastic and didn’t recline and the pilot was clearly new at doing things like flying in a straight line and landing, but we made it in one piece, admiring the [View Full Entry]

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The world is vast and unexplored, but it is also small. And no matter how many times I’ve heard the phrase repeated and overused, I still always shake my head in amazement when life proves to me that it truly is a small world. Like the time I was walking across a bridge into the ruins of Angkor Wat with my mom and I saw the girl who was once my best friend from camp. I hadn’t seen her in over five years and there she was, walking across the same bridge in Cambodia with her family, the other only Western [View Full Entry]

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It’s a fragile thing, my relationship with Marrakech. Classic love-hate. I am here for the third time in less than a month, this time with my mother and sister in our last few days together before my mother returns to the states. The first time I was here was over two weeks ago. My sister and Elizabeth and I arrived from Fez, and in 24 hours I was sure I was thoroughly charmed, if not quite fully in love. After the three of us left the city for a few days in the mountains we returned, and that first feeling of [View Full Entry]

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