Marrakesh: and a tale of Sofia Coppola's Moroccan idyll - a Marni commercial for H&M

There's something about Morocco that gets under your skin.  It's not because it's all lovely (because there's plenty of gritty, too).  But it has a certain quality that's, well, unforgettable.  Something like that song you can't get out of your head or that perfume that still lingers in the air or that boyfriend who continues to provoke feelings long after you've broken up.  

Morocco stays with you.   

It stayed with film maker Sofia Coppola.  She came back to Marrakesh to shoot a new commercial for H&M and Marni.  Filmed at my friend Freck Vreeland's house in the Palmeraie, with its beautiful pool designed by Freck's wife, Vanessa.  {Freck said Sofia was the kind of person who could hear a sneeze from across the room and always said "Bless you"}.

Listen to Sofia's back story shooting the commercial here.

Cairo: and a tale of a man with {maybe} 2 or 3 wives: Part 2

(The blog post below is a follow on to this blog post, which begun the tale:  Cairo: and a tale of man with {maybe} 2 or 3 wives.  If you haven't already, please read first.)

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How are you, Ahmed? I asked.  We were driving as usual.

 I’m fine. I’m very fine. I’m well, he emphasized {just in case I didn’t believe him}

I’m good up here, he tapped his temple. Because I’ve decided not to marry any of my brother’s wives.

What happened? I asked.

Well, since my brother died, my wife has been terribly worried that I might marry his wives.  She  hasn’t stopped crying.  She cries in the morning and she cries at night.  I don't know, maybe she cries in the afternoon, too.

I like my wife. She’s been with me all these years. I don’t like to make her cry. So I’ve decided not to marry any of my brother’s wives, he explained.

 Well, that’s decided, then, I say.

He went on:  Besides, the truth is that I don’t like my brother’s Palestinian wife, Fouzia. It’s just problems, problems, problems. It’s just talking, talking, talking. If it’s like this now, you can imagine what it would be like if I actually married her, he said, shaking his head at the craziness of it all.

Her parents live in Saudi Arabia. Fouzia needs to go live with them. And as soon as possible, he said emphatically.

Right, I said firmly in agreement.

Ahmed didn’t say anything for some time. Then he continued. Did I tell you… Fouzia is a very good cook? Very! he exclaimed. You know how those Palestinian women cook? Those special things they can make? Chicken prepared in a sauce. The beef….so so tender. And the rice?! {He groaned in pleasure at the thought.} And she prepares everything so quickly! Honestly, she’s a better cook than my own wife.

 Well, I know how you love to eat, I laughed, pointing to his big belly.

Ahmed laughed back. Yes, it’s true, he said. I love to eat. I look forward to my dinner all day long. Fouzia has this way of making potatoes. Small ones. I swear, I can eat them like candy….they’re that good! Next time, you come back to Egypt, I’m going to ask her to make you some, so you can see for yourself, he said delightedly.

But Ahmed..... didn’t you say that you were going to send Fouzia to Saudia Arabia to live with her parents? 

Yes, yes, Ahmed murmured. Then he looked out the window and was quiet.

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Read Part 3 of this tale here.

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Marrakesh: and a tale where I need your help

Dear friends,

I wanted to let you in on a secret.  Years ago, when I started this blog, I was running a prisoner rights program.  As someone with a career in international humanitarian work, I felt strongly about what I was doing.  But the issues I worked on were often sad and heavy.  I needed some beauty of the everyday kind -- big and small -- to balance me.  And so it was that My Marrakesh was born.

I didn't know then how much this blog would come to mean to me.  That the small tales I recounted here would be my connection to a great big world filled with people who would take the time to come visit me.  I tried to be someone worth visiting.  To share something here on this blog that was original and true to myself, with words and images that were my own. I told you about large setbacks and small victories.  I shared personal things from my past.  The people I encountered who touched me. The journeys I took far afield, where I met individuals who were so very different and yet, in some ways, the same.  I talked about my experiences as a mother, daughter, and wife. My struggles to be a better person, and to not falter in the face of unkindness. I shared my adventures in design and my efforts to turn a strange city into a home. I tried to cheer you on, to encourage you, and to share my recipes for things that were meaningful.

I've tried not to waste your time when you came to visit me on this blog.  I've tried to be worthy. I hope - in some small measure - that I've succeeded and given you moments of pleasure, thoughtfulness or escape.  That I've prompted you to go on your own journeys or made you wish that you could jump on a plane.

If I have, I want to ask you a favor.  This blog is a finalist in the 2012 Weblog Awards in the category Best Blog in Africa.  Would you, could you, consider voting for My Marrakesh?  It would mean so much to me.  You need only vote once.  Each ballot must include votes for three different blogs in three different categories.  (There are so many excellent ones out there, including Young House Love {with a book soon out from Artisan Books}, Appartment Therapy, The Huffington Post, Smitten Kitchen, the Sartorialist, and so many others!)

If you have just a minute or two, I would be so thankful for your vote in the Africa category.  Any mentions on Facebook, Twitter or blogs would also be gratefully received.  Voting is right here.  Thank you so much:-)

Love,

Maryam in Marrakesh

 

Marrakesh: and a tale of my book, Marrakesh by Design

I didn't mean to fall in love.  No, I didn't mean to fall in love.  You see, prior to Morocco, there was Namibia.  A place where the sun was so strong that I had to squint to see the stretches of desert, colorless and stark.  The cities and towns were quiet and organized, neat and tidy.  Everything seemed to have its place.  Even the sand dunes were perfectly arranged.  

And then..... then came Morocco.  And with it, all of its gorgeous madness. All of its colors, all of its patterns, all of its textures. Its souks bursting to overflowing. Its houses opening to secret gardens and fountain filled courtyards.  Arches and tiles cascaded as far as the eye could see. Rooms were decorated with a kind of seductive loveliness that was as tantalizing to me as the endless cups of Moroccan mint tea    

And I wanted to share some of that with you, you see.  I wanted to give you some Marrakesh.  So you could put it in your pocket.  So you could take it home with you.  So you could add a little Marrakesh to your own living room or bedroom or kitchen.  If I couldn't lure you to Morocco then I wanted to lure Morocco to you.

So here it is.  Yes, here it is.  My book.  Marrakesh by Design, to be published by Artisan Books.  

Available now for pre-order.  At IndieBound.  Amazon.  At Barnes & Noble.  Please, oh please like it.  {I think you will.   I wrote it -- and photographed it -- with you in mind:-)}