My Marrakesh

Marrakech: and a Moroccan tale of thanks

Dear friends,

We’re harvesting olives at Peacock Pavilions today.  Yes, harvesting. So it seems appropriate that it’s Thanksgiving in the US. 

 

I am not going to lie to you – it’s been a challenging year for us in Marrakech.  The stress on my family has not gone unnoticed.  We’ve worked our way through bounced mortgage checks, prolonged building frustrations, weeks of illness and inexplicably crashing computers. 

 

But it’s also been a year filled with excitement -- I've literally watched our Peacock Pavilions start to look like a place where I might belong.  Like, well, home. 

 

And for that, I am profoundly grateful. 

 

So, today, here’s wishing you the ability to look past all your troubles – big and small – and remember that life is beautiful.  Because we are – yes, you and me – the lucky ones.

 

With love,

Maryam in Marrakech

 

 

Marrakech and Kashmir: and a tale of dreams and patience

Here’s the thing:  making your dreams come true isn't a speedy process.  In fact, I’ve devised a mathematical equation to represent this accurately.

 

Estimated time necessary to make dream come true + time to deal with obstacles you never thought of  + time to make the extra money that you didn’t realize you needed – bouts of good fortune that arrive out of nowhere – compromises you make along the way that weren’t at the heart of the dream anyway = Real time to make dream come true

 

Do you follow?  If not, let me put it in other words:  Making dreams come true takes more time than you think.

 

So patience, yes, patience, is a highly desirable trait.  It turns out that it’s just what your grandmother told you (or mine did, anyway).

 

Recently, I had an epiphany along these lines watching the pashmina weavers of Kashmir.  You see, they understand intrinsically that beautiful things (much like beautiful dreams) can’t be hurried.  Because ultimately, it’s all about you and the loom, or rather, you and the dream -- the quality of the product depends on the quality of the design, the materials, the effort (and dare I say, the love) you put into it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

(My grandmother would have nodded her head approvingly.) 

A Marrakech tale: or a philosophical recipe for making dreams come true

Dear friends,

No one told me that this Marrakech dream of mine would take so long and would cost so much. 
No, no one told me that I would spend my days hoping but my nights worrying.
That along the way that there would be casualties.  That there would be feelings hurt, relationships ruined, workers let go, and bank accounts depleted. 
That there would be moments of panic, sheer panic.  The kind that's left me gasping for air and grasping for money. 

No.  No one told me. 

But I've figured something out. 
Making dreams come true isn't about brilliance.  (After all, the world is filled with brilliant people who sit in cubicles year after year.)   
Making dreams come true is only about two things:
    *the willingness to risk  (Will you risk leaping into the unknown in pursuit of your dream?)
    *the strength to persevere (Will you continue to believe - in the face of all obstacles - that your dream is worthy?)

Because it always seems impossible....until it's done.  

Or at least that's what I whisper to myself, each and every day.  And today, that's what I whisper to you, too.

With love,
Maryam in Marrakech

Marrkech; and a Zid Zid Kids tale of ghosts and goblins.....

Oh, I know it's late.  But it's taken me a few days to recover enough to tell the frightening tale...

The day had turned into night by the time we climbed in the car.  We were  traveling across Marrakech to the city's industrial zone.  It was rumored that ghouls were gathering at the new showroom of Zid Zid Kids.  The designer owners had seemed nice enough when we had gotten together in the past but apparently..........they had hidden a darker side..........

At the door Darth Vader greeted us in French and motioned us in with his light saber.

Black widows hung from the ceiling.  But that was just the beginning....

Inside.......a macabre setting awaited us...

 The dead had arisen from the grave, you see....

 
and told ghostly stories to anyone who would dare listen.... 
including deathly pale brides sucking arsenic-flavored lollipops...

 
At the bar a haunted pumpkin asked me if I would care for a Bloody Mary...

And the devil tried to talk me into selling my soul "for the right price"....

I watched in horror as the designer hostess busily supervised.....

 
....children bobbing for poisonous apples....

 
Oh, we barely escaped with our lives....

Thankfully, Darth Vader was off duty when we made a run for the car.....

 

PS Desperately seeking someone traveling from the US to Marrakech during November.  Please let me know!  Thank you:-)