My Marrakesh

Life: and the disaster chronicles part 3

It started out with a new computer.  A clean white sexy Sony, compact and perfect for a girl who travels.  The only problem was that the software (Vista 64 bit) meant that I couldn't get internet in Morocco.  So I took it with me to the IT specialist.   He explained he would downgrade the software and then internet would be no problem.  Oh it would take some time, of course, what with the copying of the files, etc. 

I went to get the computer.  The conversation went like this:

Him:  Let me show you where your files are.
Me: Great.
Him:  See, right here.
Me: Okay, I see where my photos are.  Thank you.  Where are the rest of my files?
Him: What?
Me:  You know, the rest of my documents.
Him: But I thought you only wanted me to save your photos.
Me: What?
Him: Yes, that's all I saved....your photos.  You said your photos were important.
Me:  But everything...everything else.....
Him: Sorry, I only saved your photos. I thought you didn't need anything else.
Me:  But....but...all my work, all my training materials, all my book notes...
Him: Oh.  Sorry.
Me:  You can get my files back, right?  Please tell me....that you can get them back.
Him:  [blank look}

Let's just say......that I have been crying for most of the last 8 hours. And I am writing this message on my husband's computer.........

Image from here.

Cairo, Egypt: and a tale of a slipped away girl

Too busy to write, too busy to blog, too busy to photograph.

Busy, busy. In Egypt. On assignment.

But admiring strange & stylish interiors.

Roaming the magic of the Cairo souks.

Coveting handmade Egyptian goods.

Noticing juxtapositions.

Wondering about lives so different than my own.

And hoping to see you sooner next time.

 

See more of my whereabouts & shopping adventures on Twitter right here:-)

Marrakech: and a tale of fireflies and love letters

Do you remember when you were little and you used to trap fireflies in a jar?  Magic, *a spark* in a jar.  All yours....if only for 5 minutes and then the spark would wane.   And you knew......oh you knew (despite briefly hatched plans) that you had to let the fireflies go......... back into the night.

I was cleaning out boxes over the weekend and I found it -- a picture.  Taken  on the fly by my husband's point & shoot in the days long before I had a camera. My son's bald head, his pursed mouth, his tiny jean jacket. And there I am, shiny cheeked, triumphant, hair wisps and dark eyebrows everywhere, looking so.... young, gazing at his little boy body on my lap.  

And my heart leapt, leapt, for the baby that he was and it leapt again for the the girl that I was.  And I knew that I could never have that moment again.  Ever.  But it was something, that photo.  Yes, it was something. 

It was....a love letter.

And so I embark - nine years later, on the journey of creating a photo essay on my rascally boy exactly as he is now, right now.  His spark, his magic.  His wild beauty.  I will take 1000 photos.  I will choose 20.  In one little book - his 9 year old self.

I know I can't keep fireflies in a jar. 

But I can try.

Marrakech: and a tale of truth and tribulation

Dear friends,

Oh I know you’ve not seen me around here so much.

But I’ve been busy, very busy. My days rush by like the blur from the car side window on the highway.  There’s my job, you see: oh, talking to important people about important things like strengthening local government in Mali and building civil society in Morocco.

And then there’s the book. OH MY....the deadline’s soon approaching.  Houses to scout, photos to shoot, text to write.

And then there's the rest of life.

Like children who need caring.

 

Like a house/guesthouse that needs decorating and goods for clients that need sending.

Like food that needs preparing.

Like a Marrakech olive grove that needs tending.

Like an empty garden that needs planting.

And the truth is that I am just managing to hold it together.
Just.

And the fact is that every night I look at my To Do List and I feel defeated.
Really.

And I wake up each day with determination to set things right. 
But I don't.

So I am hoping and wishing for a miracle.  Every minute.

Please let me know if you have any to spare.

With love,
Maryam in Marrakech