Skip to main content

Morocco: Marrakech, Fes, Chefchaouen, and Casablanca.

Each of these cities amazed me in unique way; the sunshine in lively Marrakech, the stunning view of Fes at night, and Casablanca's Mauresque architecture. But Chefchaouen was the city that made the many frustrations, wild taxi rides, and never ending bus voyages worthwhile:

Marrakech

Marrakech

Garden of Yves Saint Laurent

Garden of Yves Saint Laurent


Breakfast in Fes


Chefchaoen
When I caught my first glimpse of Chefchaouen against the mountains, I felt like a six year-old on Christmas morning who had spotted a giant box with their name on the tag.



Walking down the winding blue streets that imitated streams, I could hear French, Arabic and Spanish spoken. The blue maze-like medina sector was lined with the dichotomous Spanish and Moorish architecture. These bright blue walls symbolize the both the sky and heaven.

Now that I have returned to France, I often see grey skies and it seems to be an unspoken rule to wear nothing but neutral colors. My bright yellow rain-boots have grow accustomed to receiving critical stares. But some days, the sky clears, and the brilliant blue reminds me of Chefchaoen. ~

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I'm Definitely in Texas

I'm currently in Georgetown. I just had a barista ask for my name, then ask me to repeat it, then create a completely new spelling. "MADILLAN." After YEARS of seeing the most creative efforts of the coffee industry, this 20-something-year-old still managed to impress me. But hey, i get it. My name is quite a handful. MADELEINE MCILHERAN doesn’t exactly sound like the name of a lullaby. Unfortunately, after having recorded this completely original name in sharpie on a plastic cup, he then thought to ask me how it was spelled. Luckily I have this part of the usual exchange down. "That's close enough." (I will miss seeing the correct spelling of my name regularly.)
1 comment
Read more

Transition

"When you become a teenager, you step onto a bridge. You may already be on it. The opposite shore is adulthood. Childhood lies behind. The bridge is made of wood. As you cross, it burns behind you. "If you save what you write, you still won't be able to cross back to childhood. But you'll be able to see yourself in that lost country. You'll be able to wave to yourself across that wide river. "Whether or not you continue to write, you will be glad to have the souvenirs of your earlier self." ~ Gail Carson Levine
Post a Comment
Read more

I'm Actually A Happy Person

The generation made only of skin, bones, and that which can be injected into the first So that we can make believe even after we’ve kissed adolescence goodbye We can play pretend Pretend that our reality is what we wish it were Though we should be holding back a bitter, abrasive laugh Should be finding it hilarious How we make believe our reality is one thing But through our actions we unceasingly choose to let our circumstances choose the shape and size of our world How we act as though it is only logical that our past should define our present But our present define our future? “You just don’t understand” As long as we aren’t drowning, we’ll let the ebb and flow of mundane living continue to wash over us, coming in, Now out, Rocking us gently back and forth Now suffocating Now letting us up to gasp for air A lullaby so patient, so constant We lose consciousness to the fact That we’re slowly drowning But so long as death doesn’t come before Friday,
Post a Comment
Read more