I had never heard of this little town in Morroco where we made a day trip. It is on the Atlantic Ocean, known for its blue and white buildings, rather like Greece, and it turned out to be a real pleasure to visit. It had a European feel to me and I totally forgot I was in Africa. It was at one time occupied by Portugal and the ramparts were designed by a Frenchman leaving it looking like another harbor town, St Malo, in France.

A view of the town behind the ramparts

Even most of the boats there were blue

I liked this blue heart above a blue door

Many of the inhabitants there wore blue as well. This lady had a colorful bandage of some sort on her foot.

I can’t tell you how many photos I took of blue doors.

The blue ocean crashed against the rocky shore.

In the harbor, besides dealing with fish, they were busy building boats, all of wood.

The many colorful ceilings around Marrakech are not done on site but more easily at ground level.

Closeup of his work.

This is a huge square in the medina which is busy day and night.

Have you kissed your cobra today?

Some tagines being cooked over burning charcoal. I’m not sure what the tomato on top means. I am new to tagines. You put a mix of things in the dish, cover it and three or four hours later you have tender juicy meat and veggies. I had chicken with preserved lemon slices and green olives. Maurice had lamb with apples and potatoes.

There is an area right outside of Marrakech called the Palmeraia. There were once 150,000 palm trees there brought over originally from Arabia. They are being torn up for the buildings and golf courses going on there and it all was rather like Scotsdale, Arizona. Chiroc has a house there as does Paul McCartney.

In Paris you see dogs tied up outside while the owner goes in for some coffee, but in Marrakech its the donkey.

This was a very common sight in the city. I wonder who old this little man is?

A riad is how many homes were built-and still are-in Morroco. There is always a courtyard open to the sky that the other rooms of the house surround, four plant beds and a central fountain. Our riad was called the Riah Sahara Nour. I liked it much better than a hotel as it felt like we living a little like the locals and weren’t in a sterile hotel. Their website: riad sahara nour - Marrakech It is owned by a nice French couple who live there. My only complaint was that I never really got warm, even with a gas heater, as it was January but I’m sure it is great in the summer.

Our room was in this section under the dome. They added the second story bedrooms. This riad is on the edge of the medina, the old city, near several mosques so you hear the calls to worship early in the morning. I always went right back to sleep.

The courtyard when you enter-an oasis of tranquility

A view from one of the rooms with stained glass from Iran. The riad had beautiful pieces of art and rugs that I wanted.

The fountain will marigolds floating in it.

If you would like to read my entire journal entry you can find it on Trip Advisor at

Morocco forums: My (very long) Trip Report - TripAdvisor

Maurice asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Did I want perfume? No, I have plenty. How about jewelry? I love jewelry but except for my watch, one necklace and my wedding ring, I seldom remember to put on that stuff in my jewelry box. How about some clothing? I really have enough. You can only wear one thing at a time and I want to get a few things on sale when they start in January.

So, what did I ask for? A trip to anywhere. I would rather travel than anything else. So, Maurice asked me where did I want to go. I have a list that I am slowly checking off of places I want to see before I die. It is long and I know I will never get to all of them, but I am sure going to try. I had been thinking for a while that it is a shame that we aren’t seeing more of Europe since we are living right in the middle of it but the first place I thought of was Morroco. I’m not a big fan of deserts, I hate how Muslim women have to cover up and I don’t like religions-most of them-where men have all the power, and Morroco is in northern Africa, not Europe, but that is where I told Maurice I wanted to go. At first he wasn’t very enthusiastic but, because he is a sweetie, he looked into it and we just returned from Marrakech,in Morroco.

It was fabulous. I have so many photos. I have a very long diary that I kept but I think I will just post photos and tell a little about each one. If you ever get a chance to go to Marrakech, do not hesitate. Go

Much of Marrakech is pink. The medina, the old walled city, if full of mysterious alleys, called derbs if they dead-end.

One of the many lovely entries found all of the city, as well as in the ancient 11th century wall surrounding it.

These are piles of spices for sale. I have no idea how they get them into these shapes, but I like them.

These are storks. They have nests, as far as I know, just in one part of the city, on top of the walls of an old ruined palace. They made funny noises like castanettes by clacking their beaks together quickly. Maurice was surprised to see them as they are mainly seen in northern France and Europe but they’ve been around Marrakech for a long time. They made big messy nests on the corners of high walls. This one looks like it has someone’s shirt in it.

There is a chain of stores in France, Picard, which sells gourmet frozen food. There are very few things that I have bought there that I haven’t liked. We have bought fois gras and baked it and it was fabulous. I got my stuffed turkey for Thanksgiving there-wonderful. I use many of their vegetables and desserts. What I like is that every month they have something new to try. This month it was food from Thailand. I love variety. They also sell frog legs lined up on little scewers. I’m not a fan of frog legs but this looks really handy if the need ever arises.

Some of their best things are desserts. We recently discovered a really wonderful ice cream made with champagne.

Here’s the box

It comes in these cute little containers looking like champagne bottles.

Here’s a spoonful. It has raisins in it, rather like Rum and Raisin ice cream. It really is tasty.

I am not an easy person to live with, especially since I’ve gotten older, not to mention divorced and then remarried. I was never very strong in the patience department, but I’m really not a patient person now. I’m easily irritated and won’t watch TV shows, especially news shows, if it is a repeat of information. I can’t stand television shows where people yell at each other and will leave the room if Maurice happens to be watching one. I really didn’t think I would ever find anyone who would want to marry me again after my first divorce. I liked being alone, I liked being in charge of the remote control, when I ate, what I ate, all of that.

So, I was surprised when Maurice wanted to marry me. He had to wear me down but we did finally marry. Maurice is a really sweet man who seems to like my various moods and even gets tickled at things I get upset about. I truly feel like I can be the real me, that I don’t have to hide my feelings or moods as I did in my first marriage. My best friend said to me after she had been around Maurice and me that I was more the real me with him than I had ever been before. I thought that was cool.

Meanwhile, I was going through life, doing my thing, when I was brought up short by my sister. We were in NYC and had had our palms read by a sidewalk psychic. One of the things the psychic said to me was that I was keeping alot of emotions to myself and that I wasn’t showing Maurice enough love-I was holding back. When talking to my sister about this, because I wasn’t sure if that was the case, she told me that she thought I was too hard on Maurice, not kind, rather attacking, I guess. My first thought was, “I am?” He seems happy enough to me. Am I being nasty to him? So, I’ve gone back to really watching my responses, trying to be polite and kind with him, not sure what kind of person I have become.

I was talking with my best friend about all of this and reminded her of what she had said about my being more myself with Maurice than I had ever been before. Then the thought came to me, “Maybe my real true self is the screaming bitch from hell!” I’ll have to think on this some more.