     Something spicy
                  is going on
                           in Morocco . . .

tuscany

. . . to dine on sensual flavors, shop for fine fabrics in the souk, and take midnight swims by candlelight. Put the finishing touches on your magic carpet, my friend, and get ready to fly. Morocco is waiting for you!

Our first day began with the staple of Moroccan cooking: couscous. An outdoor kitchen had been set up in the late morning shade of a courtyard. Our teacher was a young woman named Bahija; her dark hair tied up in a white kerchief. She seemed shy, but melted into earnest expressiveness the moment she began to speak.

" You have to work the couscous ... make sure it doesn't form lumps," she explained, spreading the dry granules on to a round platter and moistening them with fistfuls of water and a splash of vegetable oil. Her hands moved quickly over the plate, rubbing the granules lightly between flat palms as if as each one needed to be gently coaxed into action.

In between tossing chunks of aubergine, pumpkin and courgette into the couscoussier, Bahija taught us how to make two of the traditional accompaniments: tfaya, a sweet onion and raisin confit spiced with pepper and ground ginger; and a brilliantly fiery harissa made with home-grown chillies, garlic, paprika, caraway and cumin.

We became Bahija's faithful acolytes, watching her every move in awe,
and scribbling down notes.

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morocco

Peggy's Journal

Crickets serenade me. I sit alone in a garden by candlelight. Candelabra on my table, candelabra standing in my view beyond the table, candles in glass stretching into the darkness. Peace. Stillness. Just finished a swim by moonlight. Refreshing gin and tonic was waiting for me in the company of locally cured olives. The stars were my company along with my beating heart. How did I get here? Dar Tamsna, rich colors of the earth in every texture. One lives from indoors to outdoors, with magic carpets underfoot. Roses. Did I mention the roses?

Morocco is a place where the love affair happens in a glance. You might be suspicious because it can happen so fast, but you want it to be true. Stendhal syndrome (fainting at the sight of too much beauty) does not only happen in Italy. One gets more than overwhelmed at the beauty and diversity that Morocco offers. Such a range of history – alive and well! Donkeys are pulling carts, vendors sell live chickens hanging upside down in each hand, boys carrying trays of sweets to sell, snake charmers, buggies, even camels are ready and waiting on the side of the road. That September trip we were featured in the Discovery Channel’s "Ultra-Marrakech" with a camel ride through the desert, destined for a "camel picnic". We drank champagne and ate luscious dates and almonds under a carob tree.

It was designed by our host, Meryanne Loum Martin of "Jnane Tamsna", a guest house in the countryside of the Palmeraie Tamsna sprawls with enough breathing space to walk through scented gardens (designed by her husband, ethnobotanist Gary Martin) on your way to table or to the pool. The rooms are spacious, and exquisitely decorated. Service is gentle and exquisite. Clothes are cleaned daily, and aromatherapy keeps your nose and well-being insanely pleased. And if that is not enough, you’re fed organic juices from the garden after you’ve had your ‘hammam’ . . . turkish style bath, where you have been scrubbed and bathed to perfection.

Rose pedals are thrown around on tables and pillowcases just because. Because they grow in abundance and are so much a part of the atmosphere... Whether trying to eat couscous with your very clean rose-watered hands or riding a camel, one thing is for sure. You can’t imagine not having this experience. You have to breathe a little deeper just to let it all in, and let yourself receive such aestheticism.

The experiences are powerful wherever you go . . . walking through the Medina, hiking in the Atlas visiting Berber villages, or learning about Argan oil, and goats that graze in the argan trees.

The people are warm and gentle and happy to see us. Because we are Americans. They love us. I have been nine times since 9/11, including 9/11, and have always been met with deep kindness. They often ask, “Where are you from? Are you French? Italian?" When I finally say "American", they say, ‘BIG WELCOME!"

One evening in the Medina, I walked the road three times and could not find my friends' Riyad. It was getting dark . . . Many people were helpful in trying to find the right person who knew the Riyad where I was staying. One fellow was stopped on his bike and he spoke English. He went straight away to call the number, and said, "Don’t worry Madame! The world is small, but God is great! Stay right here and I will hurry back!" Sure enough, he returned with the right information and took me safely to the door. Exploring other cultures helps one to find the humanity outside of one’s own narrow world.

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