A Marrakech tale: the Peacock Pavilion painters: are you one?

When we set out to build Peacock Pavilions, I didn't know much but I knew I didn't want a guest house like the others.  It's not that there is anything wrong with the others, mind you.  But I wanted a guest house that felt not like a guest house but like a home filled with unique spaces.  Here are some:

The room of the Sufi Seamstress
The room of the Moorish Muse
The room of the Visual Voyager
The room of the Silent Scribe
The room of the Golden Gazelle

You'd have to see these rooms to understand.  But they're curious.  And maybe even a little special.

In my quest for specialness, I've had the incredible good fortune to be assisted by decorative painter Melanie Royals from Royal Design Studios and two flocks of the loveliest painters,  collectively known as the Peacock Painters.  I might just be the luckiest girl in the world.

Melanie is holding another painting retreat at Peacock Pavilions in May. This time we are painting a magical Moroccan tent and doing some other fun projects.  Perhaps you'd like to join in?  Not only will you learn about amazing ways to make your own home beautiful, but there will be plenty of shopping, eating, camel riding, etc.  This is Marrakech, after all.  It's sure to be a trip you'll forever remember! You can read all about it right here. 

 
I say, throw caution to the wind and come if you can.  Isn't it high time for an adventure?

PS For more information or to register, Email theresa@modellodesigns.com

Kashmir, India: and a crewel tale of book making

Dear Friends,

I've missed you.  I feel like I've been away for, well, forever.  But books are special things, you see. They are filled with words that have to make sense page after page together.  Oh my. 

It reminded me of when I was in Kashmir, watching the crewel workers.  They were quiet when they worked.  No raucous music.  No chatting.  No outbursts or demands. Because the stitches counted. They had to pay attention.  They had to watch where the needle went in and where it came out.  They didn't want to make mistakes because they wanted it to be just right. 

I want that, too. 

I think I can learn a thing or two from the crewel workers of Kashmir.  About stitching.  Or perhaps, about writing. 

But for now, my book manuscript is in to my editor.  Thank you for your sweet wishes and support.

love,
Maryam in Marrakech

 
 

 

Kabul, Afghanistan: and a shopping tale -- part one

Oh it was a little wearying.  All this talk of the Taliban.  The endless warning messages in code from the security company of where not to go.  The obligatory clearance of all meetings in advance.  The bodyguard's surreptitious patting of his loaded pistol. The reminders to wear the personal tracers at all times, just in case....just in case you should disappear.

But beyond the barricades, beyond the barbed wire, beyond the checkpoints and badges and flak jackets....there was beauty.  The kind you could touch and feel.  The kind that you could pay for, pulling crumpled bills out of your wallet.  The kind that you could pack in your suitcase and would remind you -- perhaps for forever -- of this place.  A place that was unlike any other, forgotten but yet on the nightly news. 

It was a handmade beauty.  Stitch after stitch, bead after bead, gem after gem.  An assurance of all that Afghanistan was and all that it could be.  A hidden detail.  A secret promise.  A whispered sign of better days to come, if you could manage to see it (somehow) through the smog that shrouded Kabul.

Just squint your eyes.  There, there (!) it is.

 Intricately crafted pom poms in the prettiest colors, made by hand.

Hand strung carved beads made from stone.

Hand beaded silk blouses.

Metal vessels etched with birds and deer by hand.

Intricate wool tassels hand tied with tiny shells.

 Hand woven scarves with long fringe.

  Hand knotted Afghan carpets.

Hand embroidered little bells.

Marrakech: and a tiny video tale of Peacock Pavilions