Love . travel . write . eat
There’s something mysterious about an empty, well-worn path. I actually kept looking over my shoulder thinking someone was there. Nope. Just the ghosts of hundreds of thousands who came before me.
But I feel as though I have lost an important connection to the energy of Marrakech by being here. I’ve sold out to luxury. I am no longer traveling. Rather, I am entombed in rich idleness.
Possibly the most well-educated and historically detailed of all our guides, he was also the most pretentious, eventually claiming, after a point of feeling quite comfortable with us, that he was a direct descendant of Mohammed.
So, I had to scrap the idea of going deeper into the heart of Morocco, due to time and lack of resources, but I sold the Audi and by God, I'm going to Spain this summer. I am excited about two things: summer camp for the boys and mine and D's voyage into the south... Continue Reading →
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