Oh, the patterns of Fez...
With a snore...
On the door....
On a chair...
For a dish....
So delish...
Oh more please...
more.....
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The Fez Sacred Music Festival: and a tale of Rocio Marquez
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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Marrakech: and a tale of Summer (& Moroccan carpets)
Embracing Summer with all its jumbled candy colors.
Reminding us that it mustn’t be business as usual.
But clear sunny days where gleaming pools beckon.
And making of cookies with freshly picked lavender.
And impromptu lunches with friends in bright printed dresses.
Or mid-week cocktails made with rose petal syrups.
The days stretch forever with twice the possibilities.
But soon enough soon enough those lovelies are gone.
So no idle wasting before glowing indoor screens.
And no taking for granted gifts from the garden.
And no turning down get togethers on terraces
no matter where they may be.
But mostly remembering that Summer's a thing of the heart.
Saying No to petty arguments and spiteful last words.
And No to bickering and ever so curt emails.
And never forgetting to say I love yous and thank yous.
But rather embodying the spirit of our favourite season
...........of generosity, of abundance, of gratitude.
Happy Summer, today and every day.
**************************
Throwing off the pale and elegant ivories and embracing color in Red Thread Souk with a set of fabulously hued Summer colored carpets.
Vintage Moroccan Boujad Carpet 459
Vintage Moroccan Zaiane Carpet 461
Vintage Moroccan Boujad Carpet 458
Vintage Moroccan Rehamna Carpet/runner 460 (sold)
Vintage Moroccan Mrirt carpet 453
Vintage Moroccan Boujad Carpet 457
Pls contact me at moroccanmaryam(at)yahoo(dot)com for pricing.
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PS So incredibly thrilled that House Beautiful named Marrakesh by Design one of the "7 top design books for 2012 that they can't put down"! (and calls My Marrakesh one of their "favorite blogs":-))
PPS Very excited that Heart Home Magazine has a review of Marrakesh by Design and an interview with me in their Summer issue! Subscribe (it's free!) and check it out now. (Many, many thanks to the adorable Heart Home Mag team!)
Marrakech: and a tale of the Loft Restaurant and Yehia
Let me take you out, I said.
He agreed. We had things to talk about, you see, important things.
We arranged to meet at Restaurant Loft, a new place in Marrakech in Gueliz.
It's the kind of place with a well stocked bar....
tea-pouring waiters....
and carefully arranged food....
It's the kind of place where people come and share their secrets.
Yehia was there already, waiting for me.
We had our appetizers.
Then we ordered our drinks -- mojito royale.
We would need those drinks because we were talking about Egypt. You see, Yehia was Egyptian but he lived in Marrakech.
We talked. We talked about revolutions and trickeries. We talked about battling evils and how to choose between them. We talked about chaos. But mostly we talked about disappointment.
There was another drink.
And despite the smiles, I thought I saw balled up fists.
Because happy demeanors can hide hopes dashed. Especially when you love something so desperately. Like a person, or an ideal, or a country.
And you see it go astray.
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18, rue de la Liberte, Gueliz, Marrakech
+212 (0)524-434-216