Friday November 29, 2025

Mustapha, our intrepid driver, picked us up at at 6:00am. They should abolish 6 am, it’s so early.

He asked us to share our impressions and memories from the trip. We recounted as many as we could in the short drive to the airport. Just before we arrived, he told us he had a farewell gift for each of us. Such a sweet gesture! Small custom made key fobs with our names beautifully handwritten in Arabic. I almost burst into tears. All along, I had wanted to ask him to write my name in Arabic on a piece of paper just as a memento but never could find the right moment to do it. He did me one better and I shall cherish it.

He and I had an interesting relationship. I’m not sure what he thought of me but I thought of him as another adopted grandson. Clean cut, the youngest of 6 siblings and an admitted mama’s boy. It was pretty obvious early on that he was partial to girls from Italy. We asked him if he had a girlfriend, he said he had friends. But everytime we mentioned an Italian girlfriend, he blushed and said nothing. I offered to introduce him to my Italian cousin, he needed only to fly to Italy and I would make it happen. He said he was afraid to fly. There’s more to the story, I think.

Anyway, the flight home went smoothly, no line at the Marrakech airport, hardly any custom control to speak of. And when I arrived in Atlanta, again no lines, breezed through customs and was home a half hour after I landed. Mind you, it’s the Friday after Thanksgiving and only days after the government shutdown.

Thursday November 27, 2025

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am so grateful for the blessings that have come my way this year and for the wonderful people in my life. You know who you are and you know I love you.

This is my last full day in Morocco, tomorrow I head home, so here goes:

Jeff and I got up early to buy sfenj, a yummy pastry that is a cross between a doughnut and a beignet dusted with sugar and served warm. We walked through a different part of the medina and discovered a row of restaurants one street over from the Ryad el Nil. The city comes alive around 8 in the morning, when shopkeepers set up their stalls and arrange their wares.

I am writing this in the courtyard of the ryad and 4 birds are “dweeping, dweeping” all around me, flying overhead and landing on the fireplace just a few feet away. They seem acclimated to people. My guess is that they are a kind of sparrow, Khadija pointed out their nest on the top of one of the door frames. As I write this, two of them are hopping amidst the plates set for breakfast. It’s so very sweet.

Later in the day:

After breakfast, we headed out with Rashid, our artisan tour guide. He didn’t look Moroccan and, in fact, is often mistaken for a Pakistani, so he knows firsthand how it feels to be treated like a foerigner. He even asked his parents if he was adopted. He wasn’t. He took us first to meet the woman who would show us how to make harira and bread, Moroccan style. While the dough was rising and the harira was cooking, we walked to a small studio where we painted wooden ornaments shaped like the hand of Fatima and camels.. Lastly, we met Khalid El Fassi, an amazingly accomplished artisan who carves detailed mosaics with one simple tool. Then back again to eat our delicious harira and freshly baked bread, yum yum! And pick up our hands of Fatima. In and among these three studios, Rashid took us to parts of the marketplace that tourists never see. Organized by trade: leather, wool, iron works, jewelry, clothing etc., it is organically arranged, meaning it is easy to get lost. I would never attempt this place on my own, not even Google maps will help!. At one point, I got separated from the rest and I heard Kylie’s voice yelling “FRANCAAAA, over here!” As I turned to look, three men standing behind her also yelled in unison: “FRANCAAAA, over here!” followed by “Good Price!” graciously pointing to their wares. We all burst out laughing. Vety funny, these Moroccans.

Our last stop of the day (and, sadly, of the trip) was the Jardin Majorelle, a must see botanical garden for anyone who loves cactus and tropical plants. It once belonged to Yves St Laurent and his business/life partner, Pierre Boulé. Very beautiful and the only place we stood in line to enter. Among the crowds, Mickey Rourke and his companion.

Tomorrow we head home. To say it has been an extrordinary 14 days would be an understatement. We covered a lot of territory geographically, admired the natural beauty, the ocean and the sea, the mountains, the intense blue sky, the stars, the desert, ate good food, drank mint tea, laughed a lot, interacted with folks who lovingly shared the culture and history of their country, felt their love and affection for us, hugged, stayed in charming ryads, hugged some more, made a ton of photographs, haggled some with shopowners, petted/fed every cat in sight, rode camels/quads/sidecars, listened to all kinds of music in the van from Adele to “This is Marrakech” (don’t ask). Maybe learned a few words in Arabic(?) Maybe Mustapha would beg to differ.

I am oh so grateful to Shauna, Jeff, Cade and Kylie for this once in a life time opportunity, casually offered over dinner a short time ago. They made me feel like a part of the family, they shared without reservation and looked out for me when walking uneven paths or climbing steep stairs was a challenge. It has been a profoundly life changing experience for me. To them, I say Shukran, with my hand over my heart. No matter what else happens, we will always have Morocco.

And to the exotic and magical country of Morocco and its people, with deep gratitude, I say Inshallah.

Wednesday November 26, 2025

Spent the morning leisurely walking around Ait Ben Haddou. It’s easy to understand why it attracts tourists and filmmakers. It’s photogenic, literally impossible to take a bad photo here and reminiscent of the American pueblos. It can, though, be treacherous at times. The paths and stairs leading to the top of the city are steep and rocky, and even inside the kasbah the floors have minor shifts in elevation, especially when moving from room to room. It makes for easy tripping and one needs to pay attention at all times. And no, I did not fall. Shauna, Jeff, Cade, Kylie and Norendin all made sure of it with a helping hand or arm when necessary. Which was very much appreciated.

Came back to Marrakech to our sweet Ryad el Nil. Khadija Ait Zan Zoun, our hostess, came by with her little son for a few minutes. The 4 birds who live in the courtyard greeted us with dweep? dweep? I don’t know what kind they are, probably sparrows of some kind. Will check when I get home. Shauna did laundry, we made packing plans, I took a long hot shower to rid myself of a layer of Ait Ben Haddou dust on my skin and in my hair. Also caught up on my blog a little bit.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. We will spend it doing an artisan tour, part of which will include a lesson in how to make harira soup and Moroccan bread, both of which I could eat everyday. I have really enjoyed the cuisine here, as Moroccans do different things with the same ingredients I customarily use. Bought some spices in the hopes of learning to make some of their signature dishes, especially fish.

Tuesday November 25,2025

This morning, we said good bye to the Agafay Desert and Mustapha drove us through the Atlas Mountains to Ait Ben Haddou. Our tour guide Norendin was waiting for us. BTW, Ait Ben Haddou means Tribe of the Son of Haddou and Noredin's name means Light of Religion. Interesting way to learn Arabic, one word or phrase at a time, though it is pointed out frequently that Arabic and Amazigh (the language of the Berbers) are not the same language. Norendin, for instance, grew up learning Arabic and French in school and then learned Amazigh as an adult. Plus Italian, plus English, plus German. He has been an extra in at least 12 Hollywood production that were filmed here, including Gladiator, King of Persia, Game of Thrones, to name a few. Very pleasant man, sweet and helpful.

While we were with him, our luggage was taken by mule to the Kasbah Tebi where we spent the night. I'm telling you, Shauna does nothing halfway.

Norendin showed us around the old city, through which a salt water river flows(!) He said there is a salt mine nearby but I was unable to find anything about it on the internet. He pointed out the tamarind tree (Tamarindus indica) The leaves have a salty taste and are used in salads and the wood is used in construction. The houses date primarily from the 17th century and are made with hand built bricks, a layer of clay mixed with straw, and painted to match the color of the original city. This is another UNESCO location. The city began in the 11th century, a fortified village called a ksar to serve as a stop on the trans-Saharan trade route between the Sahara and Marrakech. An earthquake in 2023 demolished part of it and most of the residents moved out into the new city adjacent to it, where there is running water and electricity. It is very dusty and windy here, the men wear long robes that zip up the front, with hoodies to protect against aforementioned wind/dust. I want one.

I am writing this by candlelight at the Kasbah Tebi and it has very little electricity. The power is dying on my computer so this may end abruptly.

Monday November 24, 2025

Today Kylie and I rode a sidecar with our driver Munir through the streets of Marrakesh. What a hoot! Before we got started, Munir showed us a map of the neighborhoods and explained the sequence of the areas we would visit ending with "and lastly we will visit the oasis where the camels are, we'll drop you off and you can get a camel ride back to the city." With a straight face. I looked at Mustapha and knew he had set it up. We burst out laughing.

We saw the city from a lower point of view, zipped in and out traffic tailgating like crazy. I asked Munir about that and he said they do it for a reason. Since the red lights are so long and the green lights are so short all drivers pull up close to each other in order to maximize their collective chances of getting through a green light. I guess it makes sense. There were many times when I could easily touch the car to my right or directly in front of us. We finished our ride outside the medina at the oasis ...where the camels are.  And the extremely wealthy with their obscenely large houses.

Then on to Oxygen Agafay, a beautiful complex of tents in the desert. Spent the afternoon relaxing by the infinity pool and watching the light change on the Agafay Desert all around us. Had a lovely dinner by fire lamps and being serenaded by a local folk band. One of them passed around the Fez, a felt hat with a tassel, and challenged us to try to spin the tassel. There is plenty of video of us trying, it's harder than it looks and we all got a good laugh.

We stayed up as long as we could to see the night sky but I pooped out early. We slept together in a spacious tent, with one queen size bed on a platform and the three of us each slept in very comfortable beds arranged in a U shape in what would have been the living area. Awoke early enough to watch the sun rise from the canopy bed outside. It was pretty chilly so Shauna thoughfully stacked pillows and blankets for the three of us as we watched the sun rise over the desert. She is spoiling us.

Tomorrow Ait Ben Haddou (Tribe of the Son of Haddou) where Hollywood movies were filmed like Gladiator, King of Persia, Laurence of Arabia and many more.

Sunday November 23, 2025

I am writing this on the high speed train to Casablanca. This morning, Latifah and Habiba served us another splendid breakfast of coffee, homemade yogurt, that yummy avocado drink and homemade pastries in the communal dining room. We could hear birds chirping through the secondary courtyard which is open to the sky. Our charming bedrooms face towards the central courtyard with a skylight, which shuts out most of the street noise. It's an exageration to say "street," as it is actually only pedestrian traffic except for an occasional motorcycle. Interestingly, the city is active at night and wakes up around 9 am. Last night we passed a street band playing just outside the medina, one of the band members put a hat with a tassle on my head and motioned to spin my head around. I couldn't risk getting dizzy so I declined and gave him a tip. When I saw him later that night, he recognized me in the crowd and yelled "I love you" across the plaza. Uh huh.

I had mixed feelings about leaving the Riad Zohra and Latifah & Habiba. They are so gracious and sweet and kind and generous I wanted to adopt them. Latifah showed me pictures of her family, a very beautiful 17 year old girl named Nade (Nadine), 2 boys, 11&10, both soccer players, and her handsome husband. They live nearby, so we had the Riad pretty much to ourselves. We "spoke" using a combinaton of français and a lot of hand gestures/smiling/laughing/giggling. Google translate helped us to pay the outstanding balance with an impressive combination of Euros, Dollars & Dirhams to save us from having to find an ATM. What a mathematical exercise that was, Latifah had some difficulty understanding that a 100 dollar bill was the same (la même chose) as five 20 dollar bills. Once we settled all that, she was relieved, telling me it was a grande plaisir and invited us to come back soon. She promised she would even learn English, haha. We kissed and hugged each other and as we walked out the door, she placed her hand over her heart and said "I love you." She waited until we turned the corner before going back inside the riad. Such a sweet and genuine gesture, I am telling you, girls should rule the world.

Just pulled into Kenitra. Next stop Rabat. This train is very quiet, plush, smooth, ultra modern and equipped with a cafeteria, WiFi, compact restrooms, designated private areas for telephone conversations and other amenities. Obviously very fast, Rabat came and went. Next stop, Casablanca. Punctual, too.

Mustapha picked us up and took us to the Hassan II Mosque located literally at the water’s edge. It is a monumentai building with a dizzying and seemingly endless list of statistics: third largest mosque in the world (the other two are in Saudi Arabia). 6 years to build, employing 30,000 workers, capacity of 20,000 people with another 80,000 outside in the Grand Plaza, the columns are carved with quotes from the Koran, starting from right to left. The ceiling, heavily decorated and ornately carved, recedes (OMG!) to reveal the sky above, an unbelievable feat of engineering. Very impressive building.

Late this afternoon, Mustapha drove us to Marrakech to a quaint place called Riad El Nil. The hostess had a delicious dinner ready for us which was so nice as we were all pretty tired. Getting out of Casablanca and into Marrakech, the traffic was pretty intense, today being Sunday. Helter skelter, chaotic keystone cop kind of driving, plus tailgating made for some very nervous moments in the car. I think I understand why they pray five times a day here.

Saturday November 22, 2025

Riad Zhor, Tangier

Just took a long hot shower after an intense day in Asilah and Cap Spartel, a short drive up the coast from Tangier. From the top of the lighthouse at Cap Spartel, we can see the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. Amazingly, Spain is clearly visible since it is only 9(!) miles away. Breathtaking. Jeff’s pictures of Spain were so sharp that he captured the windmills on the hills. Stayed long enough to watch the sun set over the ocean. So, so beautful!

We spent the earlier part of the day walking around in Asilah, a charmng mix of Andalusian, French and Spanish influences everywhere you look. Had lunch in the wonderful Restaurant Dar Al Maghrebia at the recommendation of Shauna’s friend. Very yummy!

I think Kylie has photographed all the cats in Morocco. She is an avid animal lover. She found a litter of kittens with eye problems. Shauna, with the help of a veterinarian in the US, bought some medication at the pharmacy, and then not only found the litter but enlisted a local man to follow up with applyiing the medication as needed. They are awesome.

Mustapha quizzed us on something he told us earlier in the day and none of us knew the answer. We’re terrible students. He asked us what the people of Tangier called the city of Tangier. I volunteered “ uh…Tangier?” and he said No, you were not listening! It’s called the Bride of the North. I’m writing this here because I know he is going to ask us again and I want to shock him with the correct answer next time. I think we should put together all the Arabic words we have learned on the trip and string them together to make a sentence. That would really knock his socks off. Only problem is we haven’t learned any verbs. Or enough words for that matter. Nevermind.

Tomorrow we take a high speed train to Casablanca. Mustapha will meet us there with our luggage after we have toured the city. Looking forward to it!

I am thinking that if I had any poetic talent at all I could write a limerick, something like this:

“There once was a girl name Franca

Who wanted to go to Casablanca

A pilgrimage to the city she made

With the help of Shauna, Jeff, Kytie & Cade

??????????????????????????????????

If anybody out there wants to give it a shot, I’ll post it here. I’m just drawing a blank on the last line right now. It’s late and I need to go to sleep.

Friday November 21, 2025

Mustapha drove us to the Tangier airport to pick up Cade and Kylie. On our way there, he tried to teach us how to say airport in Arabic. Who needs to know how to say airport in Arabic? A picture of an airplane works well. “Restroom, please” would be much more useful, especially for me. We practiced saying Toilet Aafak (sounds like TWALET AFAC with a lot of guttural action) but by the time we walked into the airport, we forgot the word for “please.” We are terrible students. In our defense, it sounded too much like AFLAC, that commercial none of us can get out of our heads. Besides, the images of a man and a woman under the word “Toilette” works really well. Mustapha was so disappointed in us.

Cade and Kylie looked pretty tired but managed to walk around the Medina and see a little bit of the city. We ate a late lunch in a rooftop restaurant and from there, we could see Russ.… Spain. Which also means we saw the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. Beautiful views of the city all around us, blue sky above. Tangier is very much a cosmopolitan and modern city, with the same vibe as the French Riviera.

Thursday, November 20, 2025

Another wonderful day in the land of a thousand delights. Walked with Jeff to see the sunrise over the cemetery in Rabat, and the lighthouse nearby. Very dramatic cloud formations, waves crashing against the dark rocks, a spectacular sunrise and a complete rainbow, “if you like that sort of thing” Charlie would say. OMG. Walked around the Kasbah just to enjoy its big open space.

Had breakfast in the courtyard of the Riad Dar Lazlohra, an elegant Moroccan fare with a yummy(!) avocado smoothie, light & dark pancakes, oranges sliced in half dusted with cinammon, assorted breads, marmalades and coffee on the prettiest dishware you ever saw.

Mustapha took us to The Chellah or Shalla, a fortified Muslim ancient archeological site, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It was spectacular! It might have been a Phoenician trading emporium in the first millennium BC. Later it became the site of Sala Colonia, an ancient Roman colony. In the late 13th century it was used as a necropolis for the Marinid dynasty. By the 15th Century, it declined, having been damaged by earthquakes and looting. Many layers of history and cultures all tangled together in one place. Really fascinating place.

Interestingly, the area is also home to a good number of wood storks, with giant nests atop many of the ancient ruins. The Muslims consider them sacred and the Moroccans consider them symbols of good luck & fertility. There are many other kinds of birds in the gardens adjacent to the ruins, a lone pea-hen among them. I heard so many different kinds of bird songs, it was amazing.

On our way to Chefchaouen, we visited Volubllis, a Roman archaeological site near Meknes. It’s another UNESCO World Heritage site, famous for its ruins, including a triumphal arch, capitol, and well-preserved mosaics. On par with Pompeii, only less well-funded. This place is very much worth seeing and very much worth preserving.

Chefchaouen, the blue city on the side of a mountain, is a lot like Collodi. You are either walking uphill or downhill. Today I walked 14,903 steps and climbed 22 flights of stairs. Mustafa told us the name of Chefchaouen comes from the Berber word for horns(?) not sure I get the connection, will have to google later. The city was once a Jewish settlement, and is painted blue to distinguish it from Muslim communities which are green. There are not many Jews left here anymore but the townspeople continue to paint their homes blue. We stayed in the Taj Chefchaouen, a hotel with a spectacular view of the city below and the sunrise.

Tomorrow we pick up Kylie and Cade at the Tangier airport.

I’m tired so I will say good night. Later, I will write about a sweet encounter I had with 2 of the women who work at Chellah.

Friday November 21, 2025

Yesterday morning, at Chellah, I had to use the restroom, a small building down the hill from the entrance. There were two Muslim women, one cleaning, the other sitting just outside the door. When I came out, I gave them a small tip as is customary here. Sukran (thank you), we smiled, hand over heart and I went on my way. I returned about an hour later, and when I came out of the stall, gave them another tip. They started to refuse it, motioning that I had aleady paid. I said yes yes, they must accept it. They smiled, laughed, Sukran Sukran. I said Sukran with my hand over my heart gesturing back to them. They said something in Arabic as I left, smiled and waved goodbye. So sweet. I think women should rule the world.

Moroccans do not fit any stereotypes of how the rest of the world sees them. They identify not as Arabs but as Berber, from the Amazih. Need to get more info about their ancestry. They are very nice, friendly, willing to help, grateful, smile easily and love to laugh.

Shortly before I wrote this, I received a perplexing group text from the grandkids discussing.... hair loss. Forgive me, I still think women should rule the world.

Some funny signs:

No Smocking

Penat butter

creaps (for crepes)

Wednesday, November 19, 2025

The drive to Rabat was longer than expected, mostly due to road construction/detours. We stopped for breakfast at La Perla, a restaurant just outside Souira Kedima with a great view of the water. They made the best bread I have ever had. I asked Mustapha to tell the owner that it was the best bread I have ever tasted and he said you tell him. In Berber. I said please tell him, he said you tell him yourself, the owner speaks English, haha.

Then on to Safi where we bought some pottery.

The first place we visited in Rabat was the Hasan Mosque and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V. It overlooks the River Bouregreg and the cities of Rabat and Sala. Basically Rabat is two cities divided by a river, like BudaPest. The grounds of the mausoleum, never completed, were very beautiful, and the sun light…the Moroccan sunlight… made it holy.

Checked into the Riad Dar Lazlohra, a veritable haven of peace in the heart of the Medina. My dollhouse room is so adorable, I feel like a princess. Bed upstairs and sitting area/bathroom downstairs, very compact, very well designed with touches of Only in Morocco. The staircase, made of wood, has built-in closet/armoire/drawer for maximum storage. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight, I’m so excited.

Dinner at Dar-rbatia was a typical Moroccan meal of several courses: mixed salads, pumpkin, baba ganoush, eggplant, carrots, a tagine of chicken each plate more delicious than the next. The place itself was a step back in time with tables and chairs so low that Jeff’s knees were higher than the top of the table.

Another fabulous day. It’s late and I need to go to bed. In my adorable bedroom.

Tuesday, November 18, 2025

Overslept this morning! Jeff and I had breakfast at the Dar Nes and then headed out to retrieve yesterday’s purchases I inadvertently left at the rug shop. Walked through the market, we each bought a sfenj, a kind of Moroccan doughnut served warm, and to my utter delight, we found a tiny lamp shop selling the kind of lamps like the two I have at home. I fell in love with one especially after the shopkeeper explained the symbols on it represented happiness, infinity, freedom and abundance, pius two more I can’t remember at the moment. Later in the day Mustafa took us near Diabat, whose claim to fame is that Jimi Hendrix had spent a little over a week there in 1969. It is also where Shauna & Jeff had reserved a camel ride. Mustafa insisted that I ride, too, this was our conversation:

Mustafa: You no ride camel?

Franca I no ride camel.

Mustafa Why not?

Franca Because I’m afraid of heights

Mustafa It’s no high

Franca I don’t care how no high it is, I am not riding camel.

Mustafa ok but it’s no camel, it’s dromedary

I had almost the same conversation with Mohammad who lead Shauna and Jeff’s camels. He says you hold leash I say no, you hold leash, he says no scared, I say yes scared and I walked along at a safe distance from the camels as he lead them across the widest beach I have ever seen. It was breathtaking, the ocean, the beach, the sand dunes, the city skyline behind us and the intense blue sky. So gorgeous! Halfway, Mohammad says fatiguée? I say pas fatiguée, he points to the space behind Jeff on the camel…uh …dromedary and says et vous? I say pas moi. He hands me the leash and tells me to hold it for “just a second” and he walked away with the camera and took pictures of me holding the freaking leash. I couldn’t figure out how to say HURRY UP in French so, of course, he took his time. I think he enjoyed it. We walked all the way to Diabat on the beach talking about, among other things, the camels, Cappuccino, 45 years old and James, 7 years old. I really expected them to have more Arabic sounding names like Borat or Hussein. Diabat is a hippy/teenagers hangout of sorts, with a couple of bars and roads for quad bikes. Two rams butting heads in the middle of the street stopped traffic for a while, there is desert as far as the eye can see in every direction and they choose the middle of the only road that leads to Diabat for their little confrontation.

Mustapha took us to the sultan’s palace nearby, or what remains of it, and I took a few more photos as the sun was setting, and then my phone died.

15,267 steps today not sure how many that is in camel steps.

Another spectacular day in Paradise. Tomorrow we leave for Rabat.

Monday November 17, 2025

Morocco, Day Two. Plopped out of my little bed this morning and looked out the window and, lo and behold, the Atlantic Ocean was still there, sigh.

Had a leisurely breakfast in the courtyard of the Dar Nes. Fresh rolls, croissants, home made yogurt, orange juice, coffee and a lovely little crepe-like pancake called baghrir, served warm.

Met Mustapha at noon and he drove us to meet our tour guide. One block away. We could have freaking walked there but Mustapha insisted. Our tour guide was Essaid, pronounced Sigh-eed. Very lovely man, very knowledgeable, very patient and very proud of his native city. He explained that the city was established in the late 1700’s. Essaouira means “a well designed city” Fitting as the sultan at the time gathered architects from Europe and Morocco to design it from the ground up. He wanted the city to have an International flavor and be a welcoming place. Medina (the city inside the walls) was designed by local Moroccans and everything outside the city was designed by French, Spanish and Italian architects. The city was originally known as Mogador, which means little fortress. Mogador now applies to a group of islands off the coast of Essaouira, once upon a time a prison like Alcatraz and, during epidemics, also a place to quarantine. It is currently a nature preserve and off limits to visitors. The city and environs are protected by UNESCO.

Essaid took us around the medina, the port, the harbor, and marketplace pointing out the many ways the shared history of the Jewish, Muslim and Christian cultures were integrated in the buildings and the food. It is very much an International city. Arabic, French, Spanish and English are spoken here. The people are warm, friendly and have a great sense of humor.

He picked out fish at the fish market and then took us to a place where they cooked it to order. Served it with chopped tomato salad, cucumbers, and a colorful variety of olives with harissa dressing. Best sole and sardines I ever had. And I don’t even like sardines. He showed us that the most efficient way to eat fish is with our hands and then wash them at the sink by the entrance before we headed out. Later he took us to a restaurant for a plate of cooked octopus. So… yes… technically we had two lunches. Also delicious, very tender and flavorful. He wanted us to try the local pastries but we just couldn’t eat anymore. He took us to the spice store, the high end jewelry and rug shops. We will go back tomorrow for some serious shopping as it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the endless number of shops here. One in particular, Galerie Jama, was perhaps the most beautiful shop I have ever seen, actually more museum than shop. The owner, a charming old world gentleman named Mustapha, has an amazing collection of Moroccan artifacts. All three floors, were chock full of the most beautiful antiques and rugs I have ever seen. I asked him if he needed anyone to live in the building for him. For free, of course. He laughed and laughed.

We said good-bye to Essaid around 6, about three hours after his tour was officially supposed to end. I hope he enjoyed our company as much as we enjoyed his. He made our day truly unforgettable.

And oh yes, I walked 11,490 steps today.

Saturday, November 15, 2025

I leave for Morocco this afternoon. It’s still an out of body experience to write, and then read, that sentence.

Yesterday as I was driving down Moreland Avenue on my way home from exercise class, a hawk flew along side my car for about a block before it landed in a tree. It was so close! I love seeing hawks in the sky and think of them as a good omen, a sign from Charlie. As I approached Ormewood Avenue, another hawk swooped across my car, maybe brushed against the windshield and then flew off unharmed. I don’t know what it means to see two hawks within minutes of each other but I like to think that it was an auspicious sign, a blessing, a happy sendoff. Come to think of it, we also saw a hawk through a window in exercise class and we all gathered for a moment to admire it. That’s three hawks within an hour. It feels good, and it’s a great way to start this journey.

Sunday, November 16, 2025.

And indeed it was. The 4,499 mile flight lasted exactly 7 1/2 hours. Getting through the Atlanta airport security was a breeze, as was getting out of the Marrakech airport, no delays, no long lines, no hassles. It was almost too easy. Mustapha, our trusty driver picked us up promptly at 7am. The view on our way to Essaouira morphed from early morning darkness to a landscape drenched in the colors of sunrise, a rainbow or two and several sun dogs by midmorning. No kidding. It rained a little bit on the way, which I didn’t mind at all as the area needs rain. Where there should be rivers, there are parched red riverbeds. And old olive trees densly leafy and so dusty, I didn’t recognize them as olive trees.

We arrived in Essaouira early which gave us a chance to explore the city (cats everywhere!), eat lunch at KSOU, a roof top restaurant, and then get settled in the apartment, La Skala. Our place is colorful and spacious, every room has floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Great views of a jagged shoreline, waves crashing against the rock outcroppings, tiny fishing boats in the distance, noisy gulls overhead, a great blue heron or two, horizontal strips of clouds across the sky, maybe rain way off in the distance. Yeah, it’s beautiful here.

Close to sunset, Jeff and I headed out to the end of the port, ostensibly to watch the sun set and the fisherman with today’s catch. We had heard about small stands where fisherman sell fresh fish, cook it on an open fire a few feet away, and serve it at primitively built picnic tables. Elegant it is not but delicious and reasonably priced, yes! We had a generous plate of shrimp, octopus, sardines and orata, dorata to them and bream to us. So good, so simple, we may do this tomorrow night, too. Bought a banana and nutella crepe for Shauna and, of course, Jeff and I split one. Just because. After all, it’s our first day in Morocco.

Jet lag, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.

November 3, 2025

Some time ago, I invited dear friends to dinner and they, in turn, invited me to Morocco with them. Funny how dramatically the trajectory of one’s life can change in an evening. Ever since, my life has been a frantic flurry of written lists scattered all over the house: things to buy, things to do, things to find out, things to learn, things to pack. For a trip between November 15th and November 28th, there’s a lot to do. To say I am excited would be an understatement. You know that scene in “Love Actually” where Laura Linney’s character hands the house keys to her date and then quietly does a gleeful happy dance behind the door? Well that’s me, all the time.

This will be a trip of many “firsts” for me. First time on the continent of Africa, first time in Morocco, first time in a Muslim country, first time where I am unable to read/speak/understand the language, first time seeing the desert, first time experiencing the Atlantic Ocean from the other side, first time seeing the Atlantic Ocean AND the Mediterranean Sea at the same time, first time seeing the night sky from that part of the world, first time away from home for Thanksgiving with my family, first time traveling in the month of November. First time I am going on a bucket list adventure without Charlie. Bittersweet.

The only dark cloud over this out of body experience is the government shutdown, now in its 32nd day. I have heard the horror stories of friends who have traveled in the last week or two. Their flights were delayed for hours or worse, canceled. Fingers crossed it’s over by then.

November 6, 2025. The government will shut down airports to deal with the shortage of air traffic controllers. It will affect domestic flights only. So far, so good.

November 13, 2025. The government shut down has ended.

Monday September 29, 2025

On separate occasions, I ran into two women I had met in the last few months with whom I felt an instant and genuine connection. You know, animated conversations, similar interests. I was excited and happy to see them again, thinking we would build on what we had started. In both cases, I was greeted with a subdued, almost cold reaction. No happy chatter. Not sure what happened there, by now, I’m not even surprised anymore.

So when I went to the Atlanta Art Fair, I didn’t expect much in terms of meeting anyone new, especially since Melissa was not there on Friday. And it was difficult to maneuver the noisy crowds. The artwork was crammed in small booths, with not enough room to step back and view them properly. It felt disrespectful. I returned on Saturday with one of three friends I had asked to join me. The other two bailed at the last minute. I went to hear a panel discussion led by Melissa and afterwards spoke with one of the three panelists as we shared a weird and unwelcome connection to a certain notorious Atlantan. Caught up with Mark Karelson and his health issues and met his daughter, Katie, who is following in his footsteps. Saw the sculptor, Curtis Patterson, and told him how Charlie & I had gone to Savannah for his opening at the Laney Gallery in 2022. He was so touched that he invited me to visit his studio. Yes, that’s what I am talking about.

Afterwards, Alan and I did the East Atlanta Strut and popped in the ABV Gallery basically to kill time until Melissa’s party at the Dita. I expected to stay a few minutes as Alan, AKA my ride, needed to get back home to LaGrange at a reasonable hour. We stayed a lot longer, I met two women, whom I had met previously through Melissa but based on the aforementioned interactions, was prepared for a cursory exchange. It. Was. Amazing. The first woman is a lawyer who is getting a PhD from Harvard on African American Studies, a very lovely and serious person who approached ME (!) She told me that she and her mother looked at my website (OMG) and how much they loved my work (double OMG) We will get together soon, she promised me. I actually believe it will happen. The second woman I approached because Melissa’s Christmas gift to me was something she had made. I simply wanted her to know how special it was to me and that, though it was meant as a tree ormament, it hangs in the kitchen year round. We talked quite a while and at some point she asked me what I was working on. Wow, no one ever asks me that. I told her about Charlie’s portrait and her eyes filled with tears. I showed her the photo of it on my phone. She asked me what GDC means. Yes, I think she will drop by at some point, too. So they’re out there somewhere, my people, some hiding in plain sight.

Day 6, Sept 19, 2024

Still oh so excited to be in Paris, I got up early to look out at the world below. A blue truck, so large it blocked all traffic, was situated under my window. On the side of it in big yellow letters: Net’Cuv. I googled it as I had no idea what the crew was doing besides smoking cigarettes. It stands for Nettoyage Cuves, a kind of janitorial service.

I decide to take a shower, relax, and go out later in the day because I walked 19,000(!) steps yesterday. Also I will join Brad and company on a boat ride this evening and I need to pace myself and not get too tired. Halfway to the pier, I will stop at the Maison de Balzac and eat ice cream in the lovely garden with a view of the Eiffel Tower. Sounds lovely doesn’t it?

I went to the boulangerie around the corner for a slice of quiche for lunch. Hahahaha, there was a very long line outside their door. I went across the street instead to the fruit & vegetable market and bought strawberries, bananas and figs from my grumpy boyfriend. I even gave him exact change and he still didn’t smile. Had a nice fruit salad with yogurt at home, listening to Amy Poehler, Yes Please on Audible. Very entertaining.

What happened on the way to l'Orangerie also happened on the way to Maison de Balzac. It should have been a 25 minute walk, but with all the road construction, barricades, detours, it turned into a 1 hour 25 minute walk. My phone kept telling me to Proceed to the Route. Exasperated, I stopped for an ice cream and regrouped. I eventually made it to his house, which in his time, was in the outskirts of Paris but is now dwarfed by tall apartments. It’s a beautiful French country home with a view of the Eiffel Tower (built after he died BTW). His garden was and is wild & wooley as he never tended to it. No wonder, Balzac wrote 14 hours a day. Now the garden has is a lovely picnic area with places to sit, read, relax. Someone I met through Brad said he learned French reading Balzac. I'm intrigued.

Dinner on the boat was held indoors so we did not see the sights along the river like Charlie and I did years ago. Brad and I walked home afterwards at midnight.

In the course of the day, I had walked over 17,000 steps.

___________________________________________________

After I returned to the United States, I found the boarding pass for the boat tour from Sept 27, 2018. It was a very different experience: Charlie and I sat outdoors next to a very interesting couple from New Zealand. There was a great live band who sang throughout the entire trip, including the Ave Maria as we passed under the Notre Dame. It sounds corny but it was very, very moving. Seeing Paris by night on a bateau is a must.

Friday, September 12, 2025

“I found myself adrift in grief, struggling with my new identity as a single person in isolation. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Or what to do next.”

I can totally relate. I started therapy for the first time in my life this month. It’s been over 2 1/2 years, 900 days or over 125 weekends. I thought that, with time, it would get easier, instead everything is much harder. I guess I spent the first two years taking care of the aftermath and now that I have more free time, I realized I don’t have anybody to do things with. My goal in therapy is to address this but I am momentarily sidelined because my therapist doesn’t know anything about me. She has given me a bunch of homework to fill out and books to read. Time to practice patience.

In the meantime, last night I attended a dinner sponsored by The Grief House at the The Little Feminist Farm, an idyllic place on the tail end of a residential road in Stockbridge. Quiet, only the sound of trees & birds. There is even a trailer on the property for overnight stays. Good to know because the drive home in the dark was too stressful for me. Who knew there would be so much traffic on I-20 at 9 o’clock at night?

There were 5 of us at dinner, all with painful stories to tell and despite that, I instinctively felt very much at home with them right from the beginning. They all expressed their grief so eloquently. I realized that I see my life as a split screen, represented predominantly by a wide swath of static white noise and on the edge a tiny bandwidth in full color. The swath is my everyday interactions (survivng, meaningless/superficial conversations, going through the motions, doing things by rote/habit, eating, sleeping, rinse & repeat) and the sliver of color represents the meaningful interactions and the moments of joy I share with a very select few. I know it will always be this way but my goal is to widen the color bandwith just a tiny bit and fight for more joy.

Saturday August 30, 2025

I saw this on Instagram this morning:

Mi sono innamorata di te perché nei tuoi occhi ho visto un qualcosa che non avevo mai visto prima. Nei tuoi occhi ci ho visto un me felice.

I fell in in love with you because I saw in your eyes something I had never seen before, in your eyes I saw me happy.

Yep, that pretty much sums it up right there.

Wednesday Sept 10, 2025

Yesterday I finished a collage titled “900 days Without You - Sept. 9, 2025.”

Thursday August 21, 2025

Exactly 50 years ago on this day, my father collapsed on the basement floor of my childhood home in NJ and died of a coronary occlusion. He was only 59 years old, making my mother a widow at 52. I was living in Kentucky at the time having just been fired unjustly from what had been my favorite job until then. My husband had moved out a few weeks prior and I was single and jobless in a town where there were few jobs for graphic designers. It was a very difficult time for me. And for my mother.

My father had closed the restaurant on Vandam St and had just finished converting the three brownstones into apartments and renting them. My mother did not want to manage the apartments. I offered to do it for her which would have been a job and my ticket back to NYC, my goal at the time. She refused, chose to sell the buildings and divest herself of all responsibility. As far as I can tell, she sold them right before the real estate market in NYC exploded. Had she waited, she would have been an instant millionaire. I had even suggested she keep one apartment as a pied-a terre. If only.

Slowly, I got my life back on an even keel. I sued for my state job at Kentucky Educational TV, won it, plus back pay. By then, I had moved to Atlanta with Charlie and a neurotic cat named Cassandra. We rented a crappy apartment, found jobs, got a dog and 2 more cats. I was an emotional wreck, fed up with the way I was treated in Lexington and just needed a clean slate. Atlanta and Charlie gave me both.

My Dad died before he could retire, collect Social Security, enjoy life and reconnect with his family in Italy. He often talked about going back to live. Over the last 50 years, I wondered what he would have thought of the Italy he left as a boy. And how much it changed since. I wondered if my Dad would have been proud of the person I became, of the choices I made, and of the life I built with Charlie. I like to think he would have been happy to know that things turned out OK for me. After all, he worked so hard all of his adult life to provide for us but did not live long enough reap the benefits. My mother remarried, had a nice few years with Artie until Alzheimer’s took him away, too. She lived to be 94, a widow for longer than her two marriages combined.

When I am in Italy, I stay in my Dad’s home town of Pescia and walk the same streets he roamed as a child. They stiill look exactly the same. I stand on the bridge over the river to enjoy the cold breeze descending from the mountains, like he used to do on hot summer nights. People ask me why I don’t stay somewhere more exciting. I tell them it’s because I feel completely at home there.

I am taking it easy today, mostly to honor my Dad, but also because I am coming down with a cold or flu. The thermometer is busted so I don’t know if I have a fever. To add insult to injury, yesterday I met with pest control about the noises emanating from the walls and ceiling of my house, Today the tree man gave me an estimate on trimming a couple of trees in the backyard. Plus I have property taxes and estimated income tax payments coming up. It’s going to be a very expensive fall. Notwithstanding important landmark dates, life and every day realities go on regardless.