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

Mali photography: and a global tale of mothers and babies

She had named her baby Timbe, or the Second, in the Dogon language. 

Timbe had cooed through the workshop, passed from hand to hand, fed on demand, napping here and there.  The mother, Aissata, told me that – like all her colleagues -- she brought her baby to work. The mothers organized among themselves to make sure that the babies were cared for and happy, each mother nursing her baby when needed.  The male co-workers came by and tickled the babies on their bellies.  I told Aissata that in America, women didn’t bring their babies to work -- that it wasn’t really allowed.  She patted me sympathetically on the arm and said, I’m so sorry for that.

And I said I was sorry, too.

 

Mali photography: and a tale of a boy and his cows

He was a boy.  He was a boy like other Malian boys.  But he had a herd.  A herd of beautiful cattle.

He knew their faces.

Perhaps he could even read their minds....

  

Mali: a tale of the mayor who had and had some more

He was a mayor of a town in Mali, somewhere along a highway that started suddenly and stretched until forever. 

He shook my hand and he told me that this one, she was his wife and the other one, she was his wife, too.  And there was another behind who...........was his wife, too.  And then the little ones came and he laughed and said that this one, she was his grandchild, and that one, she was too.  And the tiny one there, well, she was, too.  And then he told me that there were more, many more.   And he smiled the biggest smile and stretched out his arms as far as they could reach.