~ wander.essence ~

morocco: a short walk through todra gorge

wanderessence1025 March 1, 2020

After our walk through the oasis at Tinghir, our driver Saeed picked us up in the van to take us to Todra Gorge. On the way, I put my hands over my shoulders on the back of my seat to stretch my back, and Father Anthony, sitting behind me, told me that by the look of my fingernails, I needed to take more calcium. I said I had a big container of calcium and vitamin D on the counter in my kitchen at home, but I always forgot to take it. He said if I didn’t start taking it, I was going to get osteoporosis. I said, “You’re talking to a brick wall, because if I don’t pay any attention to my doctor, why should I listen to you? You know, I don’t care much for unsolicited advice. One thing I’ve learned through the years is that you should mind your business and I should mind mine.” This is something I’ve learned the hard way in attending Al-Anon. He finally dropped the subject, but my traveling partner reiterated Anthony’s remarks, as if she were the arbiter of good health. As if my life were any of her business.

Todra Gorge

Why is it that people are such know-it-alls? And why do people feel compelled to offer advice when no one has asked for it? Don’t people know that to offer unwanted advice is making an assumption that the other person is incapable of making her own decisions? It’s an insult of the highest degree. If I go to my doctor, of course I am asking for her advice, and she’s right, I should take my calcium, but I forget and don’t have a routine for it, and so I don’t take it as I should. I already know this and am reminded of it every time I go to the doctor and get reprimanded. Every time I visit my dentist, my dental hygienist also reprimands me for not using a water pick. It’s the job of health professionals to give advice, and by my showing up at their offices, I am submitting to, and even asking for, their advice.

To have random people off the street give me advice on how to take care of my health, how to eat, how to drink, how I should dress, how I should behave, how I should love my family members – the list is endless – this is the ultimate insult, as if I don’t know these things myself. For whatever reason that is solely MY BUSINESS, I don’t do things as well, or as consistently, as I should. Or, alternately, I do them just the way I should. It is MY life and MY business, and no one else has any excuse for intruding.

The road from Tinghir passed palm plantations and Berber villages, then high walls of pink and gray rock closing in on the road. The gorge was lined with palm oases and ruined kasbahs.

Todra Gorge

We got dropped at Todra Gorge, which is a massive fault dividing the High Atlas from the Jebel Sarhho. At some points it is just wide enough for a crystal clear river and single-file trekkers.

Todra Gorge

I felt that Todra Gorge was nothing special, with a wide road alongside a river in a steep gorge, an abandoned hotel at one end, and various commercial vendors selling rugs, scarves, droopy-crotched colorful pants often seen throughout Asia, jewelry and musical instruments, notably small finger cymbals. A Berber man played a flute while Gabe from our group clicked a rhythm with the finger cymbals.

Todra Gorge

Abandoned buildings and terraces sat at one end of the gorge.

Todra Gorge

Todra Gorge

My traveling partner complained that the rock climbers all around weren’t properly outfitted with helmets and proper climbing shoes. I was so glad to learn, once again, her ideas about how other people should be behaving.

Todra Gorge

Todra Gorge

Back at the hotel, we sat in the dining area and were served the dinner we’d ordered earlier. I had a Moroccan soup with chick peas and a little vermicelli and a Berber omelette cooked in a tajine pot with tomatoes, onions and peppers. We also had a little pastry, multi-layered with white icing, chocolate drizzle and strawberries, along with sparkling water. I felt like I’d been eating way too much food on this entire trip.

I started teasing Father Anthony about the calcium. He said I’d already chewed him out once and he got it. He and Susan continued to press me that I should take calcium or I’d be sorry. I felt like they were on the attack. I said that luckily I am healthy and Anthony would probably be long gone before me (he’s 76 after all), and he and Susan said not necessarily, and they both agreed they knew absolutely about what a person should do to be healthy. I said, “You two are so judgmental!” The others in the group tried to distract us from the growing tension. Shortly, I got up and went up to the room, I was so pissed. Self-righteous people who think only their way is right annoy me to no end.

I could not wait to get out of this group, and I wished I had come alone on the group tour because then I could just wander off on my own without always ending up stuck with a person who seemed to rub me the wrong way at every turn.

*Monday, April 15, 2019*

anticipation & preparation: baltimore, maryland

wanderessence1025 February 28, 2020

I didn’t have much time to prepare for my trip to Baltimore, as it was a sudden decision, but I did manage to read a little about some places to go during my visit. I decided I’d try to visit the Baltimore Museum of Art, The Walters Art Museum, The Basilica of the Assumption, the George Peabody Library, and the American Visionary Art Museum. I also hoped to walk all around the Inner Harbor and to Fells Point. Of course, I also wanted to visit Fort McHenry National Monument and Historic Shrine so I could get a stamp for my Passport to Your National Parks. I would also meet Terry, my roommate from nursing school, for dinner one night. Besides that, I’d be open to any other opportunities that presented themselves.

Baltimore Inner Harbor & the Aquarium

I had read a couple of books set in Baltimore long ago (see books below with star ratings). Anne Tyler is a famous Baltimore author, and I found one of her books, Clock Dance, on my shelves, unread. I would take it along. I would also take American Nomads, which I was reading and wanted to finish by the end of February. I hoped to laze around a bit and read during my escape.

Books set in Baltimore:

The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler ****
Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler ****
Clock Dance by Anne Tyler (currently reading)
A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler
Saint Maybe by Anne Tyler
Redhead by the Side of the Road by Anne Tyler
Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler
Digging to America by Anne Tyler
Noah’s Compass by Anne Tyler
Morgan’s Passing by Anne Tyler
Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
The Clock Winder by Anne Tyler
Celestial Navigation by Anne Tyler
A Patchwork Planet by Anne Tyler
The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler
Vinegar Girl by Anne Tyler
The Beginner’s Goodbye by Anne Tyler
An American Summer by Frank Deford
Ten Indians by Madison Smartt Bell
Charm City by Madison Smartt Bell
Charm City: A Walk Through Baltimore by Madison Smartt Bell
Charm City by Laura Lippman
The Beautiful Struggle: A Father, Two Sons and an Unlikely Road to Manhood by Ta-Nehisi Coates
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot
The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton (1965-2010)
The Corner by David Simon and Ed Burns
Chesapeake by James A. Michener
111 Places in Baltimore That You Must Not Miss by Allison Robicelli
Walking Baltimore: An Insider’s Guide to 33 Historic Neighborhoods, Waterfront Districts, and Hidden Treasures in Charm City by Evan Balkan

Streets of Baltimore

There are a number of movies set in or filmed in Baltimore. The ones I’ve seen have star ratings in the list below.

Movies set in Baltimore:

Marnie (1964)
Diner (1982)
Tin Men (1987)
The Accidental Tourist (1988) ****
Avalon (1990)
He Said, She Said (1991) ***
Sleepless in Seattle (1993) ***** (parts filmed in Fells Point)
Homicide: Life on the Streets (1993-1999)
Liberty Heights (1999)
The Sum of All Fears (2002)
The Wire (2002-2008)
Hairspray (2007)
He’s Just Not That Into You (2009) ***
Putty Hill (2010)
I Used to Be Darker (2013)
The Shape of Water (2017) ****

Street art in a gritty neighborhood

Finally, I prepared a small journal with my intentions.

my journal and travel guides to Baltimore

inside my journal

my intentions for Baltimore

I would head to Baltimore from February 21-23, 2020. 🙂

Fells Point

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“ANTICIPATION & PREPARATION” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about anticipation & preparation for a particular destination (not journeys in general). If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments. Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, March 26 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, March 27, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the 4th Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂 If you’d like to read more about the topic, see: journeys: anticipation & preparation.

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

call to place: baltimore, maryland

wanderessence1025 February 27, 2020

My husband was heading off to Ohio for another of his biannual gatherings with his high school friends at the end of February, and he suggested I should go somewhere on my own. I couldn’t think of many appealing places to go at the end of February (other than to fly to a Caribbean island or somewhere south), so I decided I’d visit Baltimore, Maryland, nicknamed “Charm City,” for a couple of nights. As Baltimore is only a little over an hour from where I live in northern Virginia, I’ve only ever gone for day trips. This time, I planned to visit some of the big museums and enjoy some time to myself to explore, try out some restaurants, and read a lot in a nice quiet hotel room.

Sailing ship at the Inner Harbor

I’d already booked my hotel when I got a call from Terry, once my roommate at Riverside Hospital School of Professional Nursing. I’d attended nursing school for a year from 1975-1976, during which time I decided nursing wasn’t for me, and I returned to The College of William and Mary to complete my education. The whole reason I even went to nursing school was because my boyfriend at the time, Paul, lived near Riverside Hospital. I had been living at home and attending William and Mary the year before, and I hated living with my parents. They weren’t willing to pay for me to live in a dormitory at William and Mary because the college was only a 30-minute drive from our house. So it was my escape to freedom.

I hadn’t seen Terry since I left Riverside 44 years ago. She had graduated and gone on to become a nurse practitioner. She had contacted me through a mutual friend and fellow nursing student who had also attended my high school, Lori. Terry currently lived in Annapolis, Maryland, not far from Baltimore. It just so happened she was going to be taking a class in Baltimore on Thursday and Friday, so we arranged to meet on Friday evening for dinner.

Barnes & Noble and the Chesapeake at the Inner Harbor

I’ve been to Baltimore before and written about it in various places:

Baltimore is the most populous city in the state of Maryland. The city’s Inner Harbor was once the second leading port of entry for immigrants to the U.S., as well as being a major manufacturing center. Now it has shifted to a service-oriented economy, with Johns Hopkins University and Johns Hopkins Hospital the city’s top two employers.

Baltimore Aquarium

With hundreds of identified districts, Baltimore has been dubbed a “city of neighborhoods.” At the beginning of the 1970s, Baltimore’s Inner Harbor had been neglected and was occupied by a collection of abandoned warehouses. The nickname “Charm City” came from a 1975 meeting of advertisers seeking to improve the city’s reputation. The Inner Harbor has since been transformed and enlivened.

However, Baltimore is still a poor city, and has many gritty and unsafe neighborhoods. I had explored some of these in the visit I wrote about above: the hardscrabble side of baltimore, when I went to Baltimore with a photography group for a Privateer Festival.

Baltimore Inner Harbor

Famous residents have included writers Edgar Allan Poe, Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. Du Bois, Ogden Nash, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dashiell Hammett, Upton Sinclair, Tom Clancy, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and H. L. Mencken; musicians include Billie Holiday and Frank Zappa; baseball player Babe Ruth; Speaker of the United States House of Representatives Nancy Pelosi.

During the War of 1812, Francis Scott Key wrote “The Star-Spangled Banner” in Baltimore after the bombardment of Fort McHenry. His poem was set to music and popularized as a song; in 1931 it was designated as the American national anthem.

The Bromo Seltzer Arts Tower

Baltimore has more public statues and monuments per capita than any other city in the country, and is home to some of the earliest National Register Historic Districts in the nation, including Fell’s Point, Federal Hill, and Mount Vernon. Nearly one third of the city’s buildings (over 65,000) are designated as historic in the National Register, which is more than any other U.S. city, according to Wikipedia.

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“THE CALL TO PLACE” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about what enticed you to choose a particular destination. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments. If your destination is a place you love and keep returning to, feel free to write about that. If you want to see the original post about the subject, you can check it out here: imaginings: the call to place.

Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, March 25 at 1:00 p.m. EST. My next “call to place” post is scheduled to post on Thursday, March 26.

If you’d like, you can use the hashtag #wanderessence.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the fourth Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

morocco: a stroll through the tinghir oasis

wanderessence1025 February 25, 2020

After visiting all things Berber in El Khorbat, we left the town. We pulled off at a cliff overlooking an oasis of palm trees and mudbrick villages. Some aggressive guys were selling scarves, mostly Pashminas. They had quite a nice selection and I ended up buying two (a red cool patterned one and a pretty purple one) for 150 dirhams each (around $15). I got ripped off for sure. My fellow travelers gave me grief about buying more scarves, but I didn’t care. I was happy with my purchases. 🙂

Overlooking the oasis

An hour later, we settled into Hotel Amazir in Tinghir. The hotel was lovely but the rooms were basic. The upstairs lobby was nice enough but the basement dining area was especially inviting, overlooking a lovely pool surrounded by palm trees; the pool sat above an oasis and a burbling stream.

Hotel Amazir

Hotel Amazir

lobby at Hotel Amazir

outside near the pool at Hotel Amazir

Hotel Amazir’s pool

At 5:00, we met for a walk through the oasis. We started by wandering through the deserted town of Tinghir.

Tinghir

We descended into a recumbent green valley stretched out between two rose-gold rocky mountains. We strolled on a path cut through small farms, under effusive palm trees and alongside watercourses (called falaj in Oman). A delightful breeze tickled our skin, making the walk exceedingly pleasant; it was one of the highlights of our entire time in Morocco! As I often felt when I lived in Oman, it was refreshing and exhilarating to walk through greenery in the desert. I felt content to relive my multitudes of walks through mountains and date palm plantations. All I needed was my friend Mario along. 🙂

Walk in the oasis near Tinghir

Walk in the oasis near Tinghir

cracked ground underfoot

watercourse in Tinghir

oasis near Tinghir

We came upon some mudbrick ruins; it was like encountering old friends.

ruins in the oasis near Tinghir

oasis near Tinghir

ruins in the oasis near Tinghir

We walked on a path shaded by palms, with water flowing through the watercourses.

watercourse in the oasis

palms in the oasis

date palms in the oasis near Tinghir

palms in the Tinghir oasis

I was of course taking pictures of everything, and Chai, the pediatrician from Thailand, started taking pictures of the same subjects I was photographing. “You my teacher,” he said, with his impish smile. I assured him I didn’t know much about photography, but he kept following and teasing me as we photographed the same things. He repeated, “You the teacher!” He had an expensive-looking camera, so I assumed he was more professional than the amateur photographer I considered myself to be. Our lighthearted interactions made the walk even more pleasant; he was such an innocent and endearing companion.

Tinghir oasis

Tinghir oasis

Tinghir oasis

We strolled past local people gathering crops and carrying them in fabric bundles on their heads or in carts pulled by donkeys. They seemed gregarious with one another; their laughter danced and cartwheeled across the garden plots.

Tinghir oasis

Tinghir oasis

Tinghir oasis

More ruins tumbled down the brown mountain on one side of the oasis, and poppies swayed in the breeze.

Tinghir oasis

poppies in the farmland

our group walking along – taken by someone in the group

Tinghir oasis & ruins

Tinghir oasis & ruins

I loved the sound of the date palms rustling overhead in the breeze, and the earthy smell of the crops.

Tinghir oasis

Tinghir oasis

Tinghir oasis

the village

pretty flowers

Tinghir oasis and town

little pretties

magical grasses

flora in the oasis

Donkeys brayed and squealed as we made our way across the fields. Their sing-song bellows faded behind us as we climbed over 100 steps to the top of the village. From there, we had great views of the oasis, the farms, towns and ruins.

looking across from the town

looking across from the town

In the village, Saeed picked us up in the van and took us to Todra Gorge for our last short walk of the day.

*Steps: 13,835, or 5.86 miles*

*Monday, April 15, 2019*

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“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose.

One of my intentions was to write about how I reveled in an experience. Did I bask in the light, the breeze, the rustling of leaves on the trees? Truly possessing a scene is making a conscious effort to observe closely.

It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation. You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose. You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, March 9 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, March 10, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired. 🙂

Mari, of Mari’s Travels with Her Camera, wrote a piece using a sentence she found from a random book to tell of two beautiful German towns, Bremen and Bremerhaven.
- Breman and Bremerhaven

Thanks to all of you who wrote prosaic posts following intentions you set for yourself.

morocco: merzouga to el-khorbat

wanderessence1025 February 23, 2020

At breakfast this morning in Merzouga, Father Anthony asked about my background, and I summed it up for him. For some reason, he said I was a “battler.”

We left our hotel at 8:15. As we drove, we were surrounded by reg, or hard-packed desert, with sagebrush and small brown mountains in the distance. Plastic bags and refuse were scattered all along the roadside. We had to brake quickly for a pack of dogs.

We stopped for gas in Mecissi at the 212 Petrol Station. We drove on a dirt road through the small town that seemed under an invasive kind of construction. Pink and coral buildings sported green metal doors. Rubble was everywhere. A donkey plodded along carrying a man and a huge load of greens.

Aziz sang in the front of the van “Ayawow!” and we tried to sing along with him. Black-robed women walked among date palms. Vegetable markets and an Alimentation General offered food for sale, while the Pharmacie offered drugs. The local mosque was pink with green doors. We went over a very bumpy road, so dusty that even the date palms had turned brown. Mudbrick walls deteriorated all around us. The farms were small family-run plots of onion fields.

Hundreds of small hills popped up all around us. These bumps were apparently an underground irrigation system – wells 25-30 meters deep, connected to each other all the way to the oasis. They weren’t being used currently because of a drought. It took several months for each village to dig its own well. As electric lines appeared, Aziz told us the water table was deeper here.

We could see the Anti-Atlas Mountains, which are full of silver and copper mines. We passed a Trilobite Museum, featuring extinct marine arthropod fossils. Houses were in various states of completion, roofless, with large reddish-brown bricks. Villas expanded in size. Again, more black-robed women and pink villas. One mosque was terra-cotta colored with a gold-edged minaret. The spreads of date palm plantations reminded me of Oman.

We stopped at Cafe Touroug for coffee. Bougainvillea cascaded down the front of an open air cafe with colorful plastic chairs under a thatched roof.

Cafe Touroug

We passed the famous goats in the trees. Mario and I had seen a lot of those in Oman, but here, according to Aziz, people forced them into the trees so tourists would stop to take pictures (for a price). They were too far from the road to get a decent photo.

We stopped in El Khorbat, where we listened to Berber music and I bought a turquoise Berber scarf. It was a festive time.

Berber musicians in El Khorbat

Berber musicians in El Khorbat

We ate a fabulous lunch at Musee des Oasis Gite Restaurant: cool gazpacho, meatball tagine, fries, and apples and bananas with yogurt and fig sauce.

our lunch restaurant in El Khorbat

meatball tagine

apples and bananas with yogurt and fig sauce

view from the restaurant

garden at the restaurant

painted rocks at the restaurant

painted rocks

We then visited the Musee des Oasis that taught us a few things about Berber history.

Musee de Oasis

Musee de Oasis

In the Berber oasis, handicrafts were undertaken to fill local needs. Ironwork was a labor undertaken specifically by black people. The silversmith’s work was a specialty of Jewish people. Carpentry and saddle making were both done exclusively by men. Women wove carpets and blankets and embroidered shawls, as complementary activities to their housework.

carpentry and saddlemaking

weaving

Rope manufacturing

pottery

carpet

Each tribe had a special mode of dress and ornamentation. Men dressed in wool or cotton gowns, the jellaba, or sometimes a cloak called azennar or selham, complemented with a leather shepherd’s bag and a dagger. They tied a black or white turban on their head.

Women wrapped up with a shawl embroidered with pictures of their tribe. The shawl covered the body and often the head, and sometimes even the face. Tattoos on the face showed tribal membership. They wore a lot of silver jewelry. Nowadays, tattoos are disappearing and jewelry is often made of gold.

men’s jellaba

women’s clothing

men’s clothing

bags for men

clothing for men and women

The Jewish population had a synagogue and a Hebrew cemetery in every Hebrew village. Their activities included trade, money lending, silverwork, and other handicrafts. Most of the Jewish population immigrated to Israel in 1967 as a consequence of the Six-Day War.

The Islamic population had a mosque in each village for noon prayers on Fridays. There was usually a cemetery near the village, where the dead were buried wrapped in a white cloth, without a coffin, and laid on their right side to face Mecca. Two stones on the ground showed the position of each grave.

Musee des Oasis

The basics of the diet were wheat flour, corn, flour and barley. The women typically baked bread and made couscous for dinner. For lunch, they ate vegetables and pieces of meat cooked in an oil sauce with spices added. In the north Atlas, this mixture was prepared with a conic lid named a tagine.

Otherwise, in ancient times, people cooked with clay pots, which are now substituted by aluminum pressure cookers. For breakfast, people eat bread with oil and drink tea.

Henna, an herb exported all over Morocco, was applied to wounds and skin illnesses (not always with good results), and it is today used by women to dye the palms of their hands, their feet, or their hair for aesthetic reasons and for good luck.

food preparation

food preparation

We walked around the preserved mudbrick buildings, which again reminded me of Oman.

mudbrick buildings

mudbrick buildings

mudbrick buildings

mudbrick buildings

mudbrick buildings

gathering spot

gathering spot

gathering spot

Finally, I came across some paintings that showed the design and decor of a typical Berber home.

drawings of Berber homes

We left El Khorbat at 2:20, and had another hour to our hotel in Tinghir.

El Khorbat

On the way, we stopped at a Pharmacie as Susan had a tickle in her throat and René had developed a head cold. We left the little village with its Boulangerie and Patisserie. All around was red dirt and a rock desert.

*Steps: 13,835, or 5.86 miles*

*Monday, April 15, 2019*

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On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Over the Border.

morocco: a lazy day in merzouga

wanderessence1025 February 20, 2020

Our little encampment in the desert didn’t have any bathrooms nearby, so in the middle of the night when I woke up needing to use a facility, I had to traipse across an expanse of icy sand under a canopy of stars. I found the vast and silent sky and the sameness of the terrain disorienting.

I had heard what sounded like a whippoorwill before I dozed off, and again when the sun rose. A lively goodnight and good morning. It had been freezing all night, but as soon as the sun came up, the tent heated up like a tagine fresh out of the oven.

Ksar Merzouga

I talked with Father Anthony over a breakfast of a hard-boiled egg, pancakes with honey, coffee and juice. He said it was hard to travel with people who snore; as I snore, I took a bit of offense to that. I said there were a lot of reasons that made it difficult to travel with people. He thought it was likely that my traveling partner slept easily, and I said not really; she had left the tent and slept in the lobby and couldn’t seem to sleep when it was cold. She also admitted she was a light sleeper. He went on to say that she seemed so accommodating and I agreed, she was, but almost too much so, as if she were trying too hard to please. I said I admired people with a strong sense of themselves, and it was true she had that in some ways, as she seemed determined not to lighten up and have a drink, not to ride the ATVs because it ruined the dunes, and not to stop complaining about the trash everywhere we went. I also spoke my mind, but I had my unique issues. I admitted that the thing that annoyed me most was an utter lack of a sense of humor. I do best around people who make me laugh and who laugh with me.

Ksar Merzouga

Ksar Merzouga

After breakfast, I sat on a lounge chair under the shade of a small palm tree and read The Forgiven for a couple of hours. It was nice to sit by the pool, such a pretty royal blue against the mud-colored stone of the hotel. Water ran along the edges of the pool like a fountain, and the sound was soothing. It was a shame I hadn’t brought my bathing suit.

Ksar Merzouga

We waited until about 1:20 for the young foursome to return from their 4×4 excursion before we could go to lunch for a Berber pizza. Once we were all settled into the van, Aziz informed us we’d go listen to music after lunch. I was a bit annoyed because I hadn’t signed up for that and felt we should have been told ahead of time. My traveling partner said, “Whatever the group wants.” I felt the opposite, I preferred to be told things ahead of time; I never liked things sprung on me. I’d have decided to stay behind had I known. The lunch took forever and I grew impatient but at least I had wi-fi and was able to chat briefly with my husband.

We had rice with cold veggies and then the Berber pizza stuffed with veggies and beef, finished off with apple and orange slices sprinkled with cinnamon. A Berber guy in a blue robe and a turban served us under a thatch-roofed balcony with views of the desert. The dunes were hazy in the distance.

Gabe told us that the night before, they had started dancing in the common room and some Arab girls (16- to 24-year-olds), not covered, were dancing in their own group nearby. The father became passive aggressive and turned off the music on the boom box and put a damper on the whole thing. He remembered it was the culture for a father to be protective of his daughters.

Merzouga

Merzouga

Merzouga

In the afternoon, I lay on cushions in the common room and read The Forgiven and fell asleep. It was a nice relaxing day but also quite boring. I had a warm orange Fanta. Meanwhile, my half bottle of red wine and my bottled water were cooking in the tent. I had nowhere to keep them cool.

I was hoping to pay extra and get my own room today, but the hotel was fully booked. I would gladly have paid to get out of that tent for the night.

I was hoping things would get better with the tour. I was so ready to be done with it. I really hate group dynamics although individually each person was nice enough.

Ksar Merzouga

I sat in the lobby and tried to get wi-fi, but had no luck.

Ksar Merzouga

Ksar Merzouga

Ksar Merzouga

Finally at 6 p.m., we went out on our camel ride, which I wrote about here: morocco: of the desert, dromedaries & berbers. That was the saving grace of the day.

I had dinner with Susan, Anthony and René. I shared the rest of my red wine with René and Gabe. Anthony complained that my voice woke him up last night and asked me to please keep the volume down. I didn’t much care for being reprimanded; besides, if my voice had woken him up, he must have gone to bed very early indeed as I went to bed early myself.

There were times when I liked Father Anthony, and other times when he rubbed me the wrong way. All of the young foursome despised him and complained about him whenever he wasn’t within earshot. I found him a mixed bag, delightful and off-putting.

I was a real grump on this day, I knew. Sometimes it just couldn’t be helped.

*Steps: 15,944, or 6.76 miles*

*Sunday, April 14, 2019*

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“PHOTOGRAPHY” INVITATION: I invite you to create a photography intention and then create a blog post for a place you have visited. Alternately, you can post a thematic post about a place, photos of whatever you discovered that set your heart afire. You can also do a thematic post of something you have found throughout all your travels: churches, doors, people reading, people hiking, mountains, patterns, all black & white, whatever!

In this case, I focused on our desert accommodation and our lazy (& boring) day in the desert.

You probably have your own ideas about this, but in case you’d like some ideas, you can visit my page: photography inspiration.

I challenge you to post no more than 20-25 photos and to write less than 1,500 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, March 4 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, March 5, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first, second, and third (& 5th, if there is one) Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

on journey: a long drive from fez to merzouga

wanderessence1025 February 19, 2020

Leaving Fez around 8:30, we had an 11-hour drive ahead through a hilly green rural area dotted with small villages, ruins, and mosques topped with minarets. Patches of yellow dandelions, yellow broom, olive trees, laundry strung up on a hillside, and pink flowering apple orchards painted the landscape. We were on the Plain of Sais, an agricultural plateau between the Rif Mountains and the Middle Atlas. Apparently this place has an abundant water table from the mountains’ rainwater.

We drove through rocky terrain, where donkeys were foraging for a bite of grass between stones. Ladies in robes and hijabs were having a picnic amidst boulders on a hillside. Hilltop views showed small gnarly trees and neat farms below. A roadside stand enticed with terra cotta pottery and tajines.

We soon found ourselves in a rock-strewn landscape of no agricultural value. Stone walls surrounded derelict deserted concrete buildings. We passed a large apple orchard and cork oak trees, the skin of which was used to make corks for wine bottles. Aziz told us the snowy season was normally November to January but not this year, and that mountain lions roamed in the hills. We passed some shepherds, alert for wolves who attacked sheep; the mountains also were alive with foxes, wild sheep and wild pigs, The latter were problems for farmers as they dug holes in their farmland, so the Ministry of Forestry came to kill them sometimes.

We stopped in Ifrane, a town of chalet houses built by the French, who tried to make it look like Switzerland. Moroccans call it the Moroccan Switzerland. It apparently has a ski resort, the Michlifen Ski Station. In summertime, people come in droves to escape the heat of Fez and Meknes. It is home to the famous Al Akhawayn University, a small university based on an American-style liberal arts curriculum that attracts wealthy students from Europe and the Middle East.

Aziz in Ifrane

By 10:15, we left Ifrane and drove over rocky hills and past single donkeys tied sporadically to stakes in the ground. Aziz told us villagers took their donkeys to the road, caught transport into town, shopped, then came back and took the donkeys home.

We stopped briefly at Azrou to see the macaque silvanus (known as the Barbary ape, but which is really a monkey) and the cedar forest. I couldn’t capture any decent photos of them because they were too quick.

Mischliffen

Chai and Edward at Mischliffen

cedar forets at Mischliffen

local rider at Mischliffen

At 11:30, we left the OiLibya gas station and rest stop. We would stop for a picnic in another hour and a half. We saw sheep, donkeys, horses and goats. People here were half nomads, or transients, who moved from March or April to the high mountains and when it got cold, they descended back into the valley.

a stop at OiLibya

our van

me with Saeed, our driver

Natalie, Christian and Saeed

We stopped at a nomadic woman’s plastic tent house with a stove and chimney, kettle, chickens and a log fence. She didn’t know her exact age but figured she was 80-something. Her son and daughter-in-law lived nearby and brought her food. They didn’t get along, so she chose not to live with them.

a local Moroccan woman

horses on the woman’s homestead

one of the woman’s chickens

It was cold and windy up in green rocky mountains dotted with sheep. We stopped at an overlook overflowing with trash. Some pine or cedar trees were on the hilltop.

At 12:09, we had our first glimpse of the snow covered High Atlas Mountains, across a dry desert with what looked like sagebrush. We bypassed the Meteorites Hotel & Restaurant and some goats, along with Restaurant Lamana Lavage (car wash). We drove through a mudbrick village built on red earth with its own mosque, situated amidst farm plots and apple orchards abloom with pink flowers. Laundry was strung on lines, and donkeys and sheep wandered through the village. It reminded me of the Navajo reservations in Arizona and Utah. This was near Parc National Haute Atlas.

glimpses of the High Atlas

By 12:53, we were in Midelt, where there was a Le Petit-Jardin Garden Center, Cafe Nice, and Turka Simply Kebab, a Pharmacie, Restaurant Paris, Credit Agricole du Maroc, Pieces Auto, and biosnack. A dry river bed cut through the town, and the minaret was a pretty turquoise and stucco. A police station reminded citizens who was in charge. Another tall minaret stood sentinel on a hill. The outer town looked derelict, while the inner part was neat and clean. On the Boulevard Hassan II was Cafe Adnane and Art de Lapidaires.

At around 1:15, we stopped in Asima at a nice new grocery store to get makings for our picnic.

grocery store in Asima

As we drove on, we found a caravan of army vehicles parked along the road, with tanks and other military equipment interspersed among jeeps and trucks. Men in camouflage dotted the landscape as they watered the bushes, peeing in plain sight.

Broken glass and debris marred a landscape occupied by donkeys. It was the end of the spring holidays so people were returning home to their towns. We drove up a winding mountain road behind two oil tankers labeled Afriquia. Juniper trees lined the road.

mountain road

We saw large bee colonies, honey with lemon thyme, and a forest of pine trees. The highest point of our journey was 1907 meters. Then we descended, passing a deserted animal park, with debris everywhere.

Near half past two, we stopped in Gorges da Ziz for an hour-long picnic lunch alongside a river. Our feast was laid out on newspapers: sardines, tuna in tomatoes, lunchmeat, cheese, avocado, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, bread with a special sauce made by Aziz with mustard and chili sauce. We had fruits such as kiwi for dessert. It was lovely sitting outside along the wadi and the feast was delicious. A falaj ran along the river; the landscape reminded me of Oman and made me miss it mightily. Brown mountains were all around the wadi.

picnic at Gorges da Ziz

our picnic lunch

picnic at Gorges da Ziz

picnic at Gorges da Ziz

Close to 4:18, we passed through the mountains, past a lake and dam, the Barrage Hassan Ad-dakhil.

our views from the bus

After Errachidia, we began to look for the Oases du Ziz, the land of the kasbahs. We passed through a land rich with date palms, olive trees, and figs used to make Moroccan tequila. We stopped to look over the oasis of date palms in the valley and the mudbrick towns or kasbahs.

The Ziz Valley marks the historically important Ziz River (Oued Ziz) and the passage through the High Atlas to the Middle Atlas.

Oases du Ziz

Oases du Ziz

front (r to l): Christian, Theresa, Yulian, Tammy, Sue, Gabriel. Back: Rene (face covered) and Aziz.

me at Oases du Ziz

Oases du Ziz

kasbahs at Oases du Ziz

kasbahs at Oases du Ziz

We stopped for a bathroom break at Restaurant Ennakhil, and many of our group got coffee. People seemed to drink coffee at all times of day here.

coffee break at Restaurant Ennakhil

We arrived at Hotel Ksar Merzouga close to 7:00. We were ushered into oven-baked tents with no electric outlets, just a dim light in a colored lantern strung from the tent ceiling.

our tent at Hotel Ksar Merzouga

tents at Hotel Ksar Merzouga

tents at Hotel Ksar Merzouga

After checking in, we showed up in the dining room for a buffet dinner. The salad selection was excellent: beets, green beans with sauce, tomatoes, aubergines, cold corn, and lentils. I also had kafta tagine. I opened the bottle of red wine I’d bought in Fez. Susan had only a tiny glass, so I shared some with Chai and Yulia. Father Anthony was about to have a glass but remembered it was Lent.

After dinner, we sat out by the pool for a bit then went into a big communal area lined with wool cushions and I drank another glass of wine. We were waiting for a belly dancer and drum players, but they never showed up so I went to bed. It got cold quickly as the sun went down, turning the fine sand icy underfoot.

long shadows on the desert at Merzouga

I felt on the outside, which I often do in groups. There was the clique of the four young people, Susan utterly disconnected, the Chinese girls huddled together, Father Anthony keeping to himself, and Edward and Elizabeth focused inward. I felt we had such a dull group that I might die of boredom before the tour was over. Everyone seemed utterly self-absorbed and no one ever asked anyone questions about themselves. I am not a fan of cliquish group dynamics. Luckily I was able to read my book, The Forgiven, in the dim light in my tent.

I don’t know why I ever go anywhere in a group. I much prefer traveling with a single good friend, my husband, or by myself. 🙂

*Steps: 8,481, or 3.59 miles*

*Saturday, April 13, 2019*

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“ON JOURNEY” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about the journey itself for a recently visited specific destination. You could write about the journey you hope to take in the year ahead. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.

Include the link in the comments below by Tuesday, March 17 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Wednesday, March 18, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, once on the third Wednesday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

rome: continuing the “heart of rome” walk past the trevi fountain & the spanish steps

wanderessence1025 February 16, 2020

After enjoying my gelato in the air-conditioned cafe for a good long while, I walked around a corner to get my first glimpse of the Baroque Fontana di Trevi, or Trevi Fountain. It was built to celebrate the abundant water brought into the city by aqueducts. Oceanus rides across waves in a chariot, pulled by horses and horn-blowing tritons, commanding the flow of water. A triumphal arch bursts with seashells, roaring sea beasts, and mermaids. Legend has it that if you throw a coin in, you’ll be sure to return to the Eternal City. It must be thrown with the right hand over the left shoulder.

I was surprised by how the huge basin is squeezed into the tight tre vie, a meeting of three small streets.

I didn’t bother throwing a coin in as I already felt it was unlikely I’d return to Rome.

Trevi Fountain

One man was sitting in front of the fountain with his gnarled deformed feet stretched out in front of him, and a cup for donations at his side. People were 6-7 deep around the front of the fountain. It was impossible to get an unobstructed view. I was able to get up to the edge from the sides and got a couple of decent shots there.

Trevi Fountain

Trevi Fountain

Trevi Fountain

building near the Trevi Fountain

It was quite a walk after that to the Spanish Steps, past Sant Andrea Delle Fratte and another obelisk and past the Keats-Shelley Memorial House to the famous steps.

fruit stand on the way through the Heart of Rome

In the square at the bottom of the steps was the “Sinking Boat” Barcaccia Fountain (1627-29). The half submerged boat brims with water, depicting the urban legend of a fishing boat supposedly lost during a 1598 flood of the Tiber. It supposedly ended up beached at this spot.

“Sinking Boat” Barcaccia Fountain

The 138 curving Spanish Steps, one of Rome’s iconic sights, lead up from Piazza di Spagna, forming a butterfly shape as they fan out around three terraces. They climb up a steep hill to the top, where another obelisk is framed between the two Baroque church towers of Trinità Dei Monti. Azaleas were in bloom between the steps making it quite pretty. The hordes of people made getting decent photos challenging.

Built in 1723 with French money, the steps are called Spanish because of the Spanish Embassy to the Vatican located here.

Spanish Steps

Spanish Steps

Spanish Steps

Spanish Steps

Trinitá DeI Monti and obelisk

looking down from the Spanish Steps to Piazza di Spayna

It was hot, so the climb up left me in a sweat. I walked all over trying to find the hop-on hop-off bus.

Walking through Rome

Il Sistina

I walked past the Convento dei Cappuccini, which houses six crypt chapels where everything is made of human bones. Between 1732 and 1775, resident Capuchin monks used the bones of nearly 4,000 of their departed brothers to create this macabre memento mori. Each crypt is named after the type of bone used to decorate (skulls, shin bones, pelvises etc).

Convento dei Cappuccini

Roman buildiing

Finally finding the hop-on bus, I took it back to the train station and meandered back to the Beehive Hostel. I laid down in my comfortable room at the Beehive with the windows open. Within minutes, I was asleep. An hour later, I woke up chilly, so I got under the covers and slept another hour.

At 7:30, I went downstairs to the cafe as Steve, the owner, originally from Denver, Colorado, made a delicious dinner: Beet, carrot and blood orange salad (also with onions and walnuts); Crostino with melted Pecorino cheese and sauteed mushrooms, Penna all’arrabbiata (slightly spicy pasta dish with tomato, garlic, red pepper flakes, and parsley), and biscotti for dessert. A 10€ donation plus a tip was suggested, plus 2€ per glass of wine (I had 2), so I left a 20€ total donation.

The people at our communal dinner were friendly and talkative: a German mother and her 17-year-old daughter, a young environmental scientist from California, a young lady from London, another from Germany who worked to empower women and who had lived in Ecuador for a year. She lived in Sangolqui south of Quito, on the outskirts of the city, smaller and safer, and she recommended I consider it as a base when I go to Ecuador. Finally, there was a pretty young woman from India who worked in film production. When I mentioned my son was a butcher apprentice in Denver, she said lately she’d been finding butchery quite fascinating as an artistic skill; she liked the way they prepared and cut the meat.

our dinner group at the Beehive Hostel

It was fun way to end my first day in Rome. When I shared about my 7-year-separation and teaching abroad, people talked about how different marriages work. I used my hands to show that before we separated, my husband and I were all jumbled up and intermingled, like a giant tangle with no boundaries, but after, we were like the picture below, coming together and going apart, sharing our lives but not all entangled:

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I went to bed close to 11:00 p.m.; I was fairly overwhelmed by my plan to visit the Vatican Museums the next day. I wished I hadn’t committed and debated whether I should just forfeit the 34€ I’d already paid and call it a sunk cost.

*2nd half of day 1: Thursday, April 25, 2019*

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This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Corte Pequena.

art journal spreads: tiffany glass & road trip to nowhere

wanderessence1025 February 14, 2020

This year, I’m going to start adding some of my art journal spreads to my blog. I’m trying to experiment with more ways to make art from travel. Making art journal spreads and doing watercolors are some of the artistic challenges I’m setting for myself. Also, I’m interested in collage and drawing, using either pencils, colored pencils, pens or markers, and making maps of the places I visit.

Below is my first art journal spread for my Road Trip to Nowhere. This depicts my first day of travel, from Virginia to Chillicothe, Ohio, where I stopped to visit Hopewell Culture National Historical Park. You can see my “on journey” post here: on journey: virginia to cincinnati on a “road trip to nowhere”. This day of travel was on September 1, 2019.

Hopewell Culture National Historical Park

Virginia to Ohio

Virginia to Hopewell Culture in Ohio – September 1, 2019

Second, I did a pencil sketch of a Tiffany lamp, based on an exhibit I saw at the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley on July 28, 2019. After drawing the lamp in pencil, I outlined it in black gel ink, and colored it in with colored pencils and Midliner Creative Markers. I haven’t yet written about this visit.

Tiffany Lamp from the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley

Lastly, I made an art spread for the second day of my Road Trip to Nowhere, where I drove from Cincinnati, Ohio to Springfield, Illinois. I visited the William Howard Taft National Historic Site in Cincinnati, and then drove through Indiana and Illinois to Springfield, where I visited the Lincoln Home National Historic Site. This was on September 2, 2019. I haven’t yet written about this travel day.

Cincinnati, Ohio to Springfield, Il.

Cincinnati, Ohio to Springfield, Illinois

I’m not totally happy with these spreads, especially the last one, which I feel is too busy. I want to try to simplify and pare down on my next spread.

But I hope you’ll give me some leeway, as I’ve never been a visual artist, and until last year, I have never really drawn much of anything. 🙂

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“ART JOURNAL” INVITATION: I invite you to post a journal spread on your own blog about your travels. You can do collage, watercolor, acrylics, stamps, drawing or stencils — whatever art form your heart desires. These are my first art journal spreads and drawings, so I can only hope I’ll become more creative as I practice and play. I invite you to do the same!

If you’d like some ideas on creating an art journal, please see my page: on creating art from travels. I actually don’t have many ideas yet, but I hope to add more as I experiment with different art forms. Also, I would love to see any great ideas from the artists out there. Feel free to add a link to your own blog if you do bullet or travel journals of your own.

Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, March 12 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, March 13, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, once on the second Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

jude’s photo challenge: patterns

wanderessence1025 February 13, 2020

Jude of Travel Words has challenged us to experiment with our photography using different photographic techniques or topics. For February, she’s given us several aspects of patterns to focus on. Because I didn’t go anywhere this month where I could practice these techniques, I looked for images in my archives which show different composition choices.

Here’s from Jude’s challenge:

This month we are going to look at Patterns. Patterns can be found everywhere, in nature or man-made constructions. For a photographer, using patterns is key to a good composition.

They are made up of repeated objects, geometric shapes or abstract patterns, or colours and they may be random or ordered. Visual patterns in nature are often loose and organic – think of spirals, waves, rock formations, sand.

Being creative with patterns

Look for various types of patterns – squares, circles, triangles and so on. (2020 Photo Challenge #5).

bags of produce in Busan, Korea

plates in a Barcelona bar

peppers in Barcelona

radishes in Barcelona

pears in Barcelona

sake barrels in Japan

Japanese flip-flops

Japanese socks

Chihuly sculpture at Joslyn Museum in Omaha

Tiffany lamps at Museum of Shenandoah Valley in Winchester, VA

Shoot from a different perspective. Look up, look down or shoot from a distance. (2020 Photo Challenge #6).

A painterly palette in Busan, Korea

Floating flowers from India

dyes in Fez, Morocco

Lotus blossom in Washington, D.C.

Break the pattern, disrupt the continuity in some way.

Boseong Tea Plantation, Korea

Suncheon Bay, Korea

temple in Korea

fans in Barcelona

lanterns in Spain

jellyfish in Baltimore, Maryland

bicycles in Yangshuo, China

Use pattern as a background for a more substantial subject.

souq in NIzwa, Oman

Nepal

pottery factory in Nepal

The most difficult part for me is the last part of the challenge: using pattern as background for a more substantial story. Here I think of Steve McCurry, who is wonderful at capturing culture and people in the midst of patterns that identify the essence of that culture.

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In this case, I am simply participating in Jude’s Photo Challenge on Patterns. All are from my travels.

You probably have your own ideas about this, but in case you’d like some ideas, you can visit my page: photography inspiration.

I challenge you to post no more than 20-25 photos and to write less than 1,500 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, February 19 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, February 20, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first, second, and third (& 5th, if there is one) Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired!

Sheetal of Sheetalbravon posted about her trip to Aurangabad to see the amazing, and very photogenic, Ajanta Caves.
- FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) at Ajanta Caves!

Thanks to all of you who shared posts on the “photography” invitation.

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