MARRAKECH: THE CITY OF THE MAGIC DOORS

Oh, I’m in love! I’m in love with a pink city that comes alive at sundown. In the mornings, the sweet African breeze is cool and crisp. I'd wake up before 5A.M. every day, and hear the call to prayer from my balcony. The sun had barely started to shine and the glow of my computer screen tints my face in blue. As I type out morning e-mails and messages, I feel content with where things are at in my life. This is the best place to be in the moment in, and I don't waste time being outside of myself. I can hear the birds chirping from the riad and the streets are less busy.

The best part of the day is starting it out with thé de menthe in the morning. I have at least six cups because I love the fresh mint so much that now it’s a part of my routine. Do it over again for lunch and dinner, and in my friend's shops. I wish this was a practice I could bring back with me to America.

As you walk through the labyrinth, you get some sights! Stray cats roam the streets like lazy royalty, there are beautiful iron doors with pastel colors or stark black and white patterns. I did not cross a door I did not love for its rustic, artisanal qualities. The streets are cobblestoned and many of the walls of he labyrinth have been worn down by the desert’s climate. Many of the patterns seen overhead are in lace. What a Romantic place! Agrabah has come to life!







The shops open form 11A.M. until 10P.M. In some cases, some shops close at 11P.M. or midnight. The shopkeepers are always active, and they will remember you. I have never quite seen hustling game like they have it in the Middle East. The people of the Medina are expert hagglers and hustlers. Both Mom and I learned a thing or two about closing a sale simply from interacting with them.

Another highlight from Marrakech is the attention that you get. It doesn't matter if you're clearly not responsive, it won't discourage them from trying. Everybody gets it, it's hard to avoid when you're passing by the streets.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” “España?” “How many camels?”

I don’t think I’ve ever received so many compliments in a day. These people will do anything to lure you into their shop and sell you something!






At first, you can easily get overwhelmed by the hustle and the noise. I sure was! It took me a full set of 24 hours before I felt more confident navigating the labyrinth of the Medina, and two full days to feel comfortable being out past 8p.m.

The next we found ourselves walking through the door of our riad at 1:30a.m., arms heavy with two handira and accompanying pillow cases. I was glowing with excitement. These marriage blankets are made in the mountains by Berber women, commitments to their marriage. With growing popularity, they have started to produce these blankets in other colors, but the traditional ones are the white ones. Those were also really gorgeous.

I ended up purchasing three: an XL black one, a medium white one and a small purple one. I can't tell you which one I love more! It is simply impossible to. They are all gorgeous, but my white one will be the one getting the most use.

Haggling the prices for the handira blankets was an experience. Well, finding them was, as well. We went around the entire Medina looking for the right style and scale. After combing through shops and piling blanket after blanket atop one another, we met the charming Mouad. Sitting at the 4th floor of this Moroccan artisanship superstore, the piles flopped on the floor as we sat around, drinking the most delicious mint tea I had during my time in Morocco.




Another quiet source of magic in Marrakech is their garlands. I have a tendency to notice light patterns wherever I go, so these shops were quite a delight. After admiring tea sets, bridal dresses and marriage blankets, the one regret I have is being unable to bring some garlands back. They were all so gorgeous!

The shopping here is unparalleled. Truly. I still dream of some of the tea sets I saw while hunting for my handira blankets. I think we lost count of how many times we came back to the Medina. Something else that we enjoyed that I didn't get to take a photo of is the dried fruit and nuts vendors. I'd delight in some grapefruit juice and dried apricots for snacking and keeping cool. Soooo good!




With each new blanket that flopped onto the floor, I cheered. Those handmade patterns and sequins delight! I saw them in all colors and sizes, and ended up going home with a large black one and a medium white one with some of the most beautiful little details I have seen on handira to date. Now I regularly flop around my bed and delight in the magic of my marriage blankets. I found a third purple one to drape over my couch, and it delights my day every morning when I first walk out of my room.

We took a day to go to the desert of Palmeraie, delighting in camel rides and stopping to drink some water. It was some of the best fun we’ve had in months. When we were done, we got dropped off in the new city of Gueliz. There, we found some really excellent restaurants and a modern Marrakech that we couldn’t help but fall in love with. We kept repeating how impressed we were with what Morocco has to offer, and how much we enjoyed the culture despite how different it is from our own.









I took great enjoyment from kaftan hunting at the Medina. Isibella asked me to bring her back a dress, and I had a great time haggling with vendors. One of them recognized me in the street randomly and greeted me as you would a long time friend.

We went to the Yves Saint Laurent Museum and to a few castles. I think my favorite exhibit was that of the Berebere people and how they accessorized themselves.

At night our usual go-to place to have dinner was this Spanish restaurant, where we’d sneak wine and delight in candlelit dinner. We became friends with the owners who shared their life stories with us and greeted us with gusto every evening.

Witnessing sun down on a rooftop in the Medina is something else. I’ll never forget the contrasting pinks and teals in the night sky.







The walk back to our riad every night was hustling and bustling. The markets take on new life at night. Many a time we would find our way back at midnight without concern for our safety even though we traversed the streets of Marrakech alone. It is truly a wonderful, magical place.

On our last day in Marrakech we took a tour to the Atlas mountains to visit a Berber village. I got to hang out with the locals and they taught me how to make argan oil for any ailment you can think of. I saw some more handira that I fantasized about taking home and ended up hiking the Atlas mountains.

The hike was extremely dangerous. There were no ropes to help keep you grounded and the rocks were at times slippery. I found myself asking, “why do I do this to myself?” when I had to go up a thin metal latter that had nothing but rocks after. I only made it because the tour guide helped me get through it.

It was well worth the risk though in my opinion. I found peace in the Atlas mountains. After visiting the waterfall, I fell asleep in a nearby resting area with blankets and pillows. I woke up to silence and the feeling that everything was falling into place. I found myself at peace with myself. No noise, no concerns or burdens. No self-loathing. All of my problems and dramas had gone away for that moment and I felt truly happy. I sat there meditating and enjoying the African breeze, marveling at the sacred grounds I tread.




Still today I can close my eyes and go back there. I remember the way the light of day hit the boulders and the shadows it cast because of it. I remember the clear water of the waterfall and how refreshing it was to sit by it, contemplating my life.

The answer is that I say yes to adventure because it helps define me as an individual. I’ve done some amazing things and found happiness because of it. My happiness is not dependent on others most of the time, but rather in the amazing events I experience. I am a very solitary person, but I find joy in sharing my blessings with others when they wish to participate.

This trip was so good for me. Still today I find myself craving mint tea and feeling the African breeze on my face. These pictures are enough to last me for a while, though, and for that I am thankful.








The lace city delighted me with its mint tea and wild, wild streets. Oh, to traverse the maze of the Medina is a dream come true. I miss it all the time, but I'm glad I got to experience its magic first hand.

It's also kind of sad, but I lost my moonstone necklace in New York on my way back from the trip. Many times I thought to give it back or pass it on, but I wasn't expecting to part with it this way. I kind of wish I hadn't brought it, but that part of my life is over so I chalked it up to time claiming it when my time with it was up. Kind of an emotional conclusion to a venture of self-discovery. I wonder where it ended up.

Edit: I have since replaced the moonstone necklace. Now it only has my initials, and all feels right.

Thanks for stopping by! Have a wonderful 2018!
♡♡

MUSEUM OF DEATH

I spend a lot of time contemplating death. Most of my romantic partners would agree they’ve had this conversation with me many times. Don't get me wrong, I don’t fancy murdering somebody, or even hurting people in the least. Death is a natural concept and it's an inescapable one for the entirety of us. It can be synonymous with the unknown or the biggest mystery, but eventually we all come to experience and understand it. However, I do think about what happens to us after our hearts stop beating and consciousness fades from the brain after the fabled fireworks. I see it as a scary transition. A couple of years ago I was mentoring under The Roaring Dark, who is a very knowledgeable death worker. The course has since gone cold, but it's still something I keep present in my day to day. I know that time doesn't stop for anybody and that I need to make the most of my life. I can’t explain where my obsession with death comes from, but I can tell you right now I have spent exponentially more time contemplating it than the average person does. I know this to be true.

There’s a place in Los Angeles that I can’t quite get out of my head. I had read about it in articles a couple of years ago and knew it was worthy of exploration.

This site was previously a recording studio, where Pink Floyd and other artists produced their music.

As soon as I stepped into the exhibit, I was overwhelmed. Across the room was John Wayne Gacy’s original artwork. To my right, his shoes and handcuffs. Handcuffs he used on kids. To my left, photos of Richard Ramirez, his smut magazines and a shirt he wore while in prison.  Your head gets filled with noise. I had a hard time concentrating, there was something pulling at me from every direction. Following instinct, I veered to the left to begin the experience. Letters kept in binders, photographs and original drawings. Richard Ramirez is the serial killer I have researched the most, so I looked into his corner of the exhibit first. There is a questionnaire he fills out that is very funny, it shows his humor in writing. I had the impression of having seen mix tapes, but my memory is blurring. Their wide and crazy eyes stare right back at you unabashedly through their photographs, so it’s hard to focus with so much being thrown at you. I definitely consider this experience to be an overwhelming one.

Next there was plenty of material from John Wayne Gacy, The Killer Clown. This guy is my nightmares embodied, I haven’t been very fond of clowns since I learned of his existence. Niki said his shoes stank. I saw the madness in the strokes of his art. I stood there staring Pogo who stared back with an air of kindness the art bestowed upon him. I’m not sure how I feel about serial killers depicting themselves in a light of kindness, but then I also know it’s a matter of perspective. I can’t speak for their own perspectives on their psychological makeup.



Moving along, my eyes fell on an electric chair and the decapitated head of Bluebeard Henri Landau, the lonely hearts killer of Paris. After this, what comes is a bombardment of slaughter, sex, torture, suicide, funerary processes, shrunken heads, mass suicide, war photos, public decapitations, crime scenes, suicide machines, taxidermy, creepy famous pets, children's coffins (gag! I could not approach this part of the museum at all! No sir!), The Many Traces of Death movie, the list of horrors goes on. There was even a sprinkle of spirituality in a Mexican Day of the Dead altar space. The exhibits were crammed one over the other, collaged together and filling the walls up almost entirely. It's all so overwhelming that at times you will experience nausea depending on how compassionate or numb you are.

I can compare this equation to stepping into the room of a recluse who takes delight in researching the macabre, collaging their entire room in the contents until there is no more space for a pin or sticker. This place is jam packed with morbid imagery and trophy photos documenting serious crimes. They have real belongings of the murderers, and even actual beds and personal items from the Heaven’s Gate cult of San Diego. That exhibit kept me frozen in place for a couple of minutes.

The museum staff came up to ask me if I was okay a couple of times. I didn’t say much, but I did my best to smile at them. Apparently people pass out in the museum, and their fall is called a falling down ovation in jest. I'm not kidding!

You all know me to be an empath. I think what I was met with initially were leftover feelings of shock by unsuspecting people that come into the museum unaware of what lies in it. And it only got heavier the deeper I went. I think that I gave out when I reached the room of Charles Manson and the Black Dahlia murder. I was so saturated with the previous rooms what my body could not process the gore of the crime scene photos. Afterwards all I could do was look at and take in the morbid images. I made a mental note to return another day, but I definitely wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have my partner in crime with me. She has the same sense of curiosity as I do while not being thrown into the creepy macabre fan girl group. Gross.

Scouting through the museum must have taken us a little over an hour. We didn’t zoom through the contents and tried to hover long enough to gain an understanding before continuing. There were about three exhibits I couldn’t stand to be around very long, mostly because I’m not a sadist. I can't stomach cruelty towards kids in any form. They're pure souls.

After the experience I was definitely stunned. The museum staff attentively asked us what we thought about the museum and we lingered for a few minutes more to chat.



It felt like I had so much white noise in my head that it cancelled the free flow of thoughts. We contemplated what we had just seen over burgers at Shake Shack and talked about our normal lives as if unphased by the museum.

In the days following the museum visit I have felt heavier and heavier. There is so much gore now permanently lodged in my mind that I don’t know how I feel about it. Alas, it can’t be helped. But I had a very interesting experience with that place, and if you ever find yourself in LA I recommend that you try it if you are in the proper company.

Lastly, please don't take your children. This is no place for them, even though the concept of death is inevitable. Spare them the trauma.
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TROPICAL KALEIDOSCOPE

This last trip to Puerto Rico has been a soothing balm to an aching soul. I genuinely enjoyed myself in the very best of ways. Being around friends that understood me made me very happy. Their presence in my life brings color back, and the hues inspire to keep moving forward. Parties, cemetery walks and savory food wrapped in the summer balm. Something about it all enticed me, and made me feel called to explore it all further. Down the rabbit hole we go. In my past I think I had closed myself off to happiness and to live fully, particularly because I put others first even when they were not reciprocating. I turned a blind eye and then I pushed it too much, with no surprise there was a lot broken up. Myself included.

During this trip I had some very real magic encounters. People that have been in the periphery my life started coming closer and opening up in ways I never imagined possible. I also bonded with some of my long-forgotten tarot cards. Then I went out with a very enticing guy and I broke the seal on a temporary break from Caribbean nightlife. I met new people and as an act of magic my soul acquiesced in its original home. It was a bittersweet delight to take some edibles and have interesting experiences in my old room while I cleaned my closet of past life clothes, receipts, bags, gifts, jackets made by ghosts, and memories. I said goodbye to my old self and put a very abrupt end to my hoarding. Kill the memories. As if by magic I felt called to clean out my old closet, and that was a journey in itself.

But there has been more than one journey going on simultaneously. I am getting reacquainted with the world around me. My relationship to the outside world is changing. It's a lot to get used to, with absolutely everything rearranging itself. The Rubic's cube is set in motion. My life is new to me again. I feel myself on the verge of a completely different trajectory. It's scary and exciting at the same time. I'm not used to it.

Everybody has been so wonderful to me. I can't tell them enough how much I appreciate their warmth, support and love. Even in the face of a crippling depression I find that I have pulled a glamoured veil over myself and fill my heart with light. When we cross paths, you pass by a magician in civilian's clothes. That is the magic of illusion. Glamours delight!






By the end of the trip, I came out radiating joy. I also made great progress in calming my inner tempest. My takeaway has been that I had no reason to fear to begin with. It was all a matter of time for everything to fall into place, no matter how painful the process may have been. Now that I’m back, I look forward to spending more time connecting to my motherland. I want to be a part of its happenings and I want to smash the negative memories that had remained. They don’t hold me captive anymore. Not all of that progress is up to me, though; but in what is in my control I intend to make the most of it.

I feel my path changing, trading concerns and fears for newfound confidence. Releasing old complaints to make way for more progressive ways of thinking. Life has splendor and color back, even with all the ups and downs of the path. And despite dragging old feelings of loneliness, I feel more loved now than I ever did before. Kill the feelings of loneliness too. They don’t serve a purpose.




I walk out of this experience with an uncharted map, and the possibility to make my own waves or ripples depending on what I feel like that day. When the situation calls for it, solitude. My vision changed. I changed. As I get acquainted with the new me staring across from the mirror, the context I am in changes as well. This kaleidoscope of newfound feelings lights my face with a different color every day. I love deeply.

Thank you Puerto Rico, your warm reception has paved the way for great new adventures. I am honored to witness your folklore and radiance despite having a riotous past. Cheers, to a new adventure on the horizon and just short of two weeks. I look forward to come back and kill the loneliness.

See you soon,
♡♡