Morocco

Marrakech Morocco: and a tale of hot air ballooning with Ciel d'Afrique

It was so early that it was still night when I set off.  A ride and then another ride until I was a short distance from the red city of Marrakech.  The Moroccan hot air balloon men unloaded their equipment and then, after testing the wind, they began scurrying.  

Night began to become day.

_MJMy Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 1

Another balloon flew away just as the sun came out.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 7

Stretched out, my balloon was an astonishing size.  So big that I wondered if it might not carry me away forever.

_MJM23My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 2

An internal fire breather pumped the balloon up until it was, quite astonishingly, full. 

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 3

Oh.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 4 (2)

I climbed aboard.  And then gently, so gently, I floated away.

My French pilot's name was Maurice, of course.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 4

He had manned thousands of flights. 

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I felt safe as the ground fell quickly beneath me until  we were 3000 feet high.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 6
My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 10

The balloon's fire breathing heart kept us aloft.But mostly it was silent, perfectly silent.  I saw our shadow drifting along the landscape.

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I don't believe in God.  But at the same time, I wondered if perhaps this was what heaven was like.  It felt luminous, like I had a third eye.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 8

All too soon, after about an hour, it was over.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 9

But I won't soon forget.   

If you're coming to Marrakesh, perhaps it's time for your own encounter. {Tell Maurice I sent you to see heaven.}

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 15

Ciel d'Afrique, Hot air ballooning in Marrakech Morocco

Imm. Ali, Appt.4, 2ème étage. Route de Targa - Victor Hugo

Tél.: +212 (5)24 43 28 43, +212 (6)61 13 70 51

E-mail: contact@cieldafrique.info 

Marrakech Morocco: and a tale of hot air ballooning with Ciel d'Afrique

It was so early that it was still night when I set off.  A ride and then another ride until I was a short distance from the red city of Marrakech.  The Moroccan hot air balloon men unloaded their equipment and then, after testing the wind, they began scurrying.  

Night began to become day.

_MJMy Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 1Another balloon flew away just as the sun came out.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 7

Stretched out, my balloon was an astonishing size.  So big that I wondered if it might not carry me away forever.

_MJM23My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 2

An internal fire breather pumped the balloon up until it was, quite astonishingly, full. 

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 3Oh.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 4 (2)

I climbed aboard.  And then gently, so gently, I floated away.

My French pilot's name was Maurice, of course.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 4

He had manned thousands of flights. 

IMG_5809-002

I felt safe as the ground fell quickly beneath me until  we were 3000 feet high.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 6

The balloon's fire breathing heart kept us aloft.My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 10But mostly it was silent, perfectly silent.  I saw our shadow drifting along the landscape.

IMG_5824-001

I don't believe in God.  But at the same time, I wondered if perhaps this was what heaven was like.  It felt luminous, like I had a third eye.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 8

All too soon, after about an hour, it was over.

My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 9But I won't soon forget.   

If you're coming to Marrakesh, perhaps it's time for your own encounter. {Tell Maurice I sent you to see heaven.}
My Marrakesh blog Ciel d'Afrique 15

Ciel d'Afrique, Hot air ballooning in Marrakech Morocco

Imm. Ali, Appt.4, 2ème étage. Route de Targa - Victor Hugo

Tél.: +212 (5)24 43 28 43, +212 (6)61 13 70 51

E-mail: contact@cieldafrique.info 

Morocco: and a tale of a Vogue Magazine adventure

You know, I still find it astonishing, somehow.  Morocco.  No matter how long I live here, I sometimes still find myself taken aback by its otherness.

Like I'm an outsider, looking in.  Dressing the part, fitting in but never fitting in. Still fascinated. 

Vogue Magazine Morocco 1

Vogue Magazine Morocco 2

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Vogue Magazine Morocco 3

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It's the secret, of course.  Continuing to be surprised by something so familiar.  Like when you catch a glimpse of your long-married husband from across the room, and for a moment, you see him with new eyes. And there is a flutter, a beating of wings, somewhere deep within you.  

Images by Vogue Paris, February 2010

Photographers: Inez van Lamsweerde & Vinoodh Matadin

Marrakesh: a tale of Cafe Clock and The Last Storytellers

I grew up with a father who loved libraries.  We used to spend our Sunday afternoons in one nearby no matter where we lived.  I liked those libraries best which paid special attention to the children, with chairs, tables and shelves just the right size.  And, of course, I loved the books with their glossy plastic coated covers.  I took pleasure walking down the aisles, my hand brushing one spine after another, as if they were piano keys. But as much as I enjoyed reading the books myself, infinitely more thrilling was being read to.   My heart tipped open to those kind volunteers who would hold the books aloft and really tell us the stories -- their voices taking on dastardly characters with ease or haughty British accents when required.   I would sit in a chair just my size and be swept away.

When did that all stop?  Why?

I remember when I first went to the famed Jemma El Fnaa Square in Marrakesh.  It was there that I spied a huddle of Moroccans, hushed, just listening.  I peeked through their shoulders and saw an older man speaking in Arabic, his hands gesticulating, his eyes vivid.  What’s he saying? I whisper asked to a man next to me.  Is he selling something? I queried.  No, my neighbor responded.  He’s telling a story. 

Sadly, those Moroccan story tellers seem to be fewer and fewer -- dying one by one, and trumped by the internet, video games and texting. 

Café Clock opened today in Marrakesh, a sister to the well known Café Clock in Fez. There’s food of the simple and very good variety.  But more than that, there are master Moroccan storytellers.  And along with the storytellers are their newly trained young apprentices, some of them women, who will tell these Moroccan stories to you, yes, in English.  Every Thursday from 5-7 in the evening.

Moroccan StoryTeller Maryam Montague-001

Honestly, it’s all too wonderful. 

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Cafe Clock

224 Derb Chtouka

Kasbah, Marrakesh

+212 (0)6 55210172

PS If you can’t make it to Marrakesh {and even if you can}, purchase The Last Storytellers, by BBC journalist Richard Hamilton.  Richard is a passionate collector of the storytellers' stories.  Read his book to yourself.  And then read it aloud to someone you love.

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