Exotic, mysterious, intriguing. Perhaps like the city itself....
Images inspired by the Glamourai's sojourn in Marrakech.
Photography: Jamie Beck & Kevin Burg // art direction & styling: Kelly Framel .
See all the images right here.
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PS The editors at Amazon have just released their list of the Best Books of 2012 so far. *Very* excited that my book, Marrakesh by Design was selected in the category Crafts, Hobbies, and Home! Have you picked up a copy yet?
It started off innocently enough. It was Saturday night and I was out with this girl and this girl at a new wine and cheese bar in Marrakech called (cough) Cheese Me.
It was small and modern and had a very special chandelier.
Karim, the co-owner, had enough charisma for all of Marrakech.
Cheese Me's simple and very affordable menu was written on a blackboard,offering delicious cheeses, desserts and a short wine list. We ordered.
And there was a clinking of glasses.
And that's when she told us. About the jinn or genies (those spirits written about in the Koran, and respected and feared by many Muslims).
She had been (of course) in the Algerian desert. It was night time. Now every good Tuareg nomad knows perfectly well that you mustn't ever fall asleep near a fire because when the last embers fade away, that's when they come. The genies.
She heard them. Their feet tap, tap, tapping.
Back and forth, back and forth the genies walked. Pacing. Why right above her sleeping bag.
She was astonished.
Suddenly -- salacious creatures as they sometimes are -- one of the genies tried to get into her sleeping bag.
She resisted, sliding deeper into the sleeping bag, her hands holding it closed.
She tried to remember how to say Help in Arabic and French, but nothing came to mind. She tried German but these particular genies didn't seem to speak that language. So she squeaked a tiny little Help in English.
Thank goodness, it worked and the genies fled. (I think her talismanic rings might have assisted, too.)
So next time you find yourself in the Algerian desert....
remember this cautionary tale.......and pray for English-speaking genies....
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Cheese Me
68, Rue de la Liberté, Gueliz
Marrakech, Morocco
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I had never understood it before.
Morocco's city of Fez.
Its alleyways had seemed strange and uninviting.
Its people had seemed cold and imperious.
Its treasures had been somehow hidden to me.
Fez had held me at arm's length. And although I longed to love it, I never could.
But suddenly with a new guide, I had new eyes.
And (oh, yes!) I saw its charms, its allure, its thousand year old beauty...
Its potions....
Its simplicity.
Its color
It's craft.
Its artistry
And yes, its inviting nature....
Suddenly, Fez was, well, illuminated.
And there were the beginnings of a thousand year old mystery revealed.
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I'm in Fez -- that Moroccan imperial city more than a thousand years old. I'm here at the Sacred Music Festival. The Festival's theme this year is Re-enchanting the World.
I'm waiting under a tree so large that a spreads like a lacy canopy overhead.
I'm waiting for a girl in a violet ruffled dress. Waiting with hundreds of others.
Suddenly, she's there, Rocio Marquez.
She's accompanied by Christian Boissel, a French pianist with red shoe laces. Together they are interpreting the poems of the Divan del Tamarit, by Spanish poet Frederico Garcia Lorca.
The pianist's eyes fill with tears, as he perfectly recites Garcia Lorca's poems in French for the audience.
But all eyes are on her. On her, Rocio Marquez. Her poise so striking, and her face magically lit.
She sings, and it's all there. Love, death, heartbreak, jealousy, faith. Grenada and Cordoba evoked like a heartbeat, like a pulse.
Her voice holds a note, so fine, so far, so controlled that I can only wait... wait for her to breathe again. And when she does, it is filled with a sort of grace.
I am re-enchanted. And I'm not alone. The 70 year old man nearby murmurs his appreciation. She's a delicacy, he says. Praise God, praise God, he says, over and over.
And then it is over.
She stands.
Perhaps the world's most beautiful girl in a violet dress.
In Fez, a city a thousand and more years old.
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