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There was a boulevard in Marrakech named after his grandfather -- a man who had put his life on the line for a noble cause, fought off marauders of a terrible kind, and protected those who needed it most. You know the sort: a risk-taker, a gambler, a hero.The grandson was a lawyer, by profession. The type who used to fly first class from country to country, meeting clients, brokering deals, and doing the complicated things that lawyers do. But he was more than that,much more.
02/25/2010 --- The 4th Fez Festival of Sufi Culture will be held from 17 to 24 April in the palaces, riads and Andalusian gardens of the city of Fez around the theme "Mysticism and poetry”.
The festival will , according to the Association of Fes Festival of Sufi Culture, continue to show Morocco as the land of the ancient home of Sufism and promoter of dialogue among cultures, but also as a bridge between the East and the West, symbolized by the mediating role that Morocco has always played, especially in its modern history.
The United States population is undoubtedly diverse. In the last 20 years, there were huge increases in the percentage of women, immigrants, and people from various ethnic groups and different cultural backgrounds. Fifty percent of America's workforce is now of another ethnicity or culture! In some areas of California, multicultural workers comprise 70 percent of the workforce. In Oxnard, or Santa Ana, California, Laredo, Texas, El Paso, Texas, and other U.S. Cities, multicultural workers account for 90 percent of the workforce. There are staggering increases—700- 900%—of multicultural populations in Tennessee, Georgia, Iowa, and other places.
A buddy of mine once told me he thought Arabic script looked like someone had taken a sharpie and held it against a wall while driving along side it on a motorcycle (this from a guy learning to speak and write Chinese...) -- interesting mental images aside, people do seem to be fascinated with Arabic scripts, the way the letters connect or stand alone, the beauty of their symmetry or the way they can be rendered into such emotive calligraphy.
There are lots of fonts available in Arabic now, but few that hybridize the Latin script with an Arabic or Persian aesthetic; now the guys behind Talib Type, however, have devoted their talents to designing three fonts in what they style an "intercultural type research project... exploring the effect of globalization on contemporary global graphic design."
Today, again, I felt the story of my life. It started the day I looked at a fountain in Fes. The water is running, a bubbling sound. The sun is high overhead and the shadows short. I look into the zillij and understand everything. How did I not know? How do they not see? The story of my life and all the lives ever lived or living. Tomorrow is a memory and the future’s left germinating in the past.
On your way to Morocco? Hmmm...what to wear?
Perhaps it’s better to ask what not to wear in Morocco.
Much simpler, as there are really only two rules:
1) Be careful of going too native
I had an email from a mother recently. She and her 17 year-old daughter were coming to Marrakech and were determined not to be “ugly Americans.” Internet research had indicated that Moroccan women wore caftans, and with that in mind, could I suggest an online caftan purveyor, so they could hit the ground running.
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Folk ballads, soul and urban blues …of the desert, Hindi Zahra, a young Moroccan singer of France, explores, with nostalgia and success, various music genres. Hindi was born in Khouribgha (Morocco), her music is an ancient blues, jazz original and Eastern vibrations.
Film by Moroccan Artist Mohamed Ezoubeiri Mohamed Ezoubeiri
This
is a two year project that is very close to my hearth because it brings
together people and the places I love, moods in which I grew up.
It highlights daily events that seem innocuous; the film gives them an importance that might be otherwise overlooked.
It is composed of three parts 'Hands', 'Bread' and 'Urban trailer'.
The first 'Hands', filming people through their hands in the process of performing daily tasks.
The second 'Bread' is a metaphor for life through the rigorous process
of making bread. "This clip reminds me that we must be resourceful,
particularly in the current difficult economic situation. The power is
in your hands. Using everything we have at our disposal is wisdom. The
woman is seen using all the pieces of dough "until the last drop," ....eft
Here's the thing: I don't like artificial flavors. I prefer the genuine article -- the real deal, the bonafide, the true. Because life is really too short, isn't it? So forget the make believe. Forget the supermarket fakery, the Stepford Wife veneer. Even if it's painful...say no to lying to yourself and to others. Say no to pretending that things are different than they really are. You might be surprised at what happens. It might taste strange at first. But then again, in the long run, it's likely to taste better.......... and be better for you....
And in that spirit....a recipe for real Vanilla Extract.
No one told me that this Marrakech dream of mine would take so long and would cost so much.
No, no one told me that I would spend my days hoping but my nights worrying.
That along the way that there would be casualties. That there would be feelings hurt, relationships ruined, workers let go, and bank accounts depleted.
That there would be moments of panic, sheer panic. The kind that's left me gasping for air and grasping for money.
The sumptuously understated guest house Dar Seven in Marrakesh, owned by a certain Italian prince and princess, is a study in muted tones that manages to be both riche and yet comfortable.
Sometimes life takes the strangest turns. Especially for middle aged American girls (event,this) American girls living in olive groves in Marrakech.
And perhaps that's why a stylist is here, a director is here, a casting agent is here, and quite a few other people wielding large equipment are here . And perhaps that is also why an ad agency has been calling me to talk contracts.
I am feeling sad. I am feeling blue. I am feeling weepy. A massacre of sorts has taken place on our land of depressing proportions. You might have thought otherwise – but it is not all happiness and light here at My Marrakesh. Far from it, I am afraid.
If you have been following this story, you will remember, that in the beginning there was the land. And on the land there were the trees. But for me, you see, it was the other way around. It was all about the trees. I thought I would order up a little land with my trees, a little coffee for my cream. But now, the coffee tastes sour. What have we done?
She was on the back of her friend’s motorcycle when he told her. About the brothels. What? She said, the wind whipping through her hair. And that was how it started. The next day she asked her driver. Oh yes, he said. There are several, he added. How much does it cost to....to go to one? She asked. It depends, he said, on, you know, ….. the services. And on the color of your skin -- if you’re black about $10 or $15, and if you’re white, $50 or even $100. She hesitated before asking, Do you…..do you go to them? He looked away before answering. No, no, he said. I don’t do that sort of thing. Then he turned on the radio.
Lory Hess 02-22-2010 22:21:25-- -- -- Is the folk tale dying? Will mass media wipe out the oral tradition, replacing that living and evolving heritage with ephemeral entertainment?
Jilali El Koudia is afraid so. Born into a rural family in the ancient cultural crossroads of Morocco, he experienced his mother's telling of folktales as a vital relief from daily hardships. Now a prominent writer and translator, he feels it urgently necessary to preserve the tradition that nurtured him, before it disappears. From a number of narrators, primarily older women, he has collected the thirty-one tales in this brief but rich anthology, and offers them for us to enjoy and marvel at in our turn.
There's certainly no shortage of excitement, as our heroes and heroines dodge jealous stepmothers, man-eating ghouls and unscrupulous sultans on their way to "happily ever after." Most of the tales begin with a fraught family situation: jealousy, betrayal or revenge provoke a crisis, which usually leads to an encounter with magical beings or events.
Stefan Franzen Hindi Zahra is the new face of a young generation of emancipated, cosmopolitan songwriters in North Africa. Her album "Handmade" is due to be released in late February. Stefan Franzen caught up with Hindi Zahra in Paris
Magical, poetic and unique soundscapes: "Handmade," the album by 30-year-old French-Moroccan singer, Hindi Zahra, brings together a fascinating potpourri of the most diverse musical genres |
|Born in Khouribga in southern Morocco, she describes herself as an inveterate nomad: "From the time I was a small child I was out on the road with my parents and coming into contact with the whole spectrum of Moroccan music every day, everything from the songs of the Berber women and Gnawa chants to rock. The music of the Tuareg, too, Egyptian music and Bollywood was something I had a particular soft spot for."
Behind all of these influences it was the voice of her mother that provided the underlying melody. Among the Berber, singing has always been the preserve of the women and every family has a least one female member who sings.
Salma Hayek Posing at Mamounia Hotel in Marrakesh, Morocco
Marrakesh's Troubling Transformation into Luxury Hot Spot
Feb. 4, 2010 —Salma Hayek is one of the first to arrive. In her black sling pumps and shoulderless Gucci dress, she ascends the marble steps to the lobby. There, she passes by buckets of white roses, a map of North Africa from 1923 and anterooms full of plush velvet sofas before stopping beneath a hand-painted wooden ceiling. "Wonderful!" Hayek says, stretching her arms out. "There's so much history everywhere!" Then she explains how she has now installed a Moroccan parlor in one of her homes. It's November 2009, and the occasion is the gala re-opening of La Mamounia, Marrakesh's historic luxury hotel. Hayek has flown in from Paris especially for the event, where she joins Juliette Binoche, Jennifer Aniston and Paloma Picasso.
The airport of Marrakesh - Menara is part of the 13 best airports in the world, according to a classification established by the monthly "Travel and Leisure" magazine that is published by condenast in New York.
Located 3 km from downtown, the airport of Marrakech-Menara Airport is the second Moroccan airport in terms of traffic after Mohammed V in Casablanca. According to "Travel and Leisure, the new Terminal 1 at the airport is" an example of a successful marriage between traditional Islamic architecture and modern architecture. "
Another day here in Marrakesh. Another secret to tell. I think some of you might have guessed already. My secret is this: I’ve had plastic surgery. (This is the part where Geraldo Rivera moves the microphone closer…)
Yes, it’s not right for everyone but it was right for me. I suppose I could have chosen to live looking the way that I did. But really, why? Why try?
The Film Maker, Abdelkebir Brhili, is from Meknes, morocco. He lives in Denver, Colorado. He is a film/video/post production Graduate of the Colorado film school. He is an addict of final-cut-pro & after-effects. He prefers to shoot in DV and HD. The "Taxi Driver" Film is his first production. he shot it with a Canon GL2. The idea came to him when a friend, who drives a cab, who told him that he is tired of answering the same questions from customers ...which led him to a ... solution ........
The shape that most clearly represents Morocco in my mind’s eye is the eight-point star. It is a simple shape made by overlapping two squares. The hard-edged lines make it indicative of Moroccan patterns, which are known for their use of straight lines in contrast to the curvilinear arabesque of the Middle East. It has a feel that is both modern and ancient. What is the meaning behind this particular shape and what does it represent? (Note: this article was revised on March 24, 2008)
We all have one home, yet we view it from different perspectives. I truly don’t remember the book in which I came across this idea. But I can say with absolute certainty that the following is what the writer had in mind:
Some of us view their home as a cow they can milk whenever they want!
Some of us view their home as something valuable for which they are ready to die!
Some of us view their home as a cake they want to eat alone!
I'm too busy.
I'm too busy to blog.
I'm too busy to answer emails.
I'm too busy to sleep.
I have so many balls in the air that -- although I dart from side to side to try to catch them all -- one falls. And then another....
I long for the ability to do things well, to do things properly, to do things as they should be done.
But I settle for less. I settle for mediocre. Because I am too busy to do otherwise.
In my next life, I'll have time.
There will be hours on end ....
to pay attention to details. To making things perfect.
To embroidering. Fine little stitches, one after another.
Embroidering fabric.
Or perhaps...
embroidering my life.
After a few hours, I got tired of sitting down as shoe shiners, beggars, men, women and children walked by in search of an illusive stroke of good luck, or in avoidance of that inevitable sense of mortification pressed on them by reality. My oneirism as I ogled the swinging supple derrieres of pulchritudinous women dissipated. My glass of Moroccan coffee had been empty and cold for quite some time now. I paid and left the Atlanta café and walked toward the post office on boulevard Panoramique. I stood on the curb for ten minutes trying to hail a taxicab before one stopped. It bluntly peeled off the traffic and came to a halt inches away from me; so close in fact that if I hadn’t curled my toes in, it would have rolled over them. I opened the door and jumped in the back.
What's not to like about a country which raises the slipper to a higher art form? Seriously, I think that these Moroccans are onto something. I mean, it's nothing short of genius to develop slippers for walking outside as well as those for wearing inside. Hooray for Morocco! Morocco for president! Okay, I might be getting a little carried away but surely you understand my enthusiasm.
Take a look at these white slippers on the right. Aren't they lovely? Two years ago, I bought ten pairs in the Marrakech souk and gave them for Christmas presents. I wrapped them in cellophane, tied them with raffia and made special tags with images of Morocco. I swear, I was the most popular girl that year...
I met her last Fall in Marrakech, Delphine Warin. I had been searching for someone to teach me something about photography, and all roads in the Red City pointed to her. During our first lesson together, she opened her old Nikon and explained in lilting French about aperture and shutter speed. She then took my camera and put it in manual mode, saying simply, From now on, you will only be working in manual
And so that's what I did. And that's what I still do.
But beyond what she has taught me, I admire Delphine's own incredible gift. She has that rare ability to capture the soul, the actual soul, of a person; the part that hovers beneath the surface, far beyond the forced smile. The part that is accessible to few. Delphine takes her time. Her camera sometimes doesn't come out for hours when she is working; she is busy knowing -- really knowing -- her subject before the click of the button ever happens. She is a woman concerned with essence.
Delphine has just been feted in Paris for her new book, Les Yeux Grands Ouvert or Eyes Wide Open, a photographic portrait of blind mothers. The images and words are poetic and unforgettable. Here a few photographs of a Moroccan mother and an Algerian mother -- a tale of the seeing blind.
Today on Curious Fashion Week....an old, very old Tajik vintage cloak.
Surely, you have several cloaks in your wardrobe. They're so very romantic. Perfect for horse drawn sleigh rides and wearing with fur muffs. Or perhaps for attending the opera. As you can see.......terribly versatile.
And this one.......so very special. Why every single square inch embroidered. (Those crazy, amazing needle workers in Tajikistan. No one's told them that there's medicine for that kind of obsessiveness.)
He had a home in Marrakech. He had shops in Paris.He had design projects left and right. He had 350 embroiderers embroidering. (Sigh, so refined.)
His name was Ludovic (a Russian prince?) and she loved his lanterns. She had to have one ....or perhaps two.....or perhaps more....A meeting was called for.
But eek, what if he was terribly snobby? What if he drank his tea with his pinkie in the air? What if he carried a small white fluffy dog with a small white fluffy name? What if his home was oh so Architectural Digest? In that case, he might not welcome the likes of her.....
He was sitting at the top of the stairs fanning himself lazily. Good morning, brother, she said to him in Arabic.
He smiled and replied, Good morning, sister. It's been a long time.
She started the Moroccan ritual, How are you? Is everything fine? Is your health okay? How is your family?
Minutes later, she was in his shop.
The News and opinions of the MoroccoBoard.com contributing writers are their own and do not reflect the views of Morocco Board News Service. Please read Terms of Use
02/25/2010 --- The 4th Fez Festival of Sufi Culture will be held from 17 to 24 April in the palaces, riads and Andalusian gardens of the city of Fez around the theme "Mysticism and poetry”.
The United States population is undoubtedly diverse. In the last 20 years, there were huge increases in the percentage of women, immigrants, and people from various ethnic groups and different cultural backgrounds. Fifty percent of America's workforce is now of another ethnicity or culture! In some areas of California, multicultural workers comprise 70 percent of the workforce. In Oxnard, or Santa Ana, California, Laredo, Texas, El Paso, Texas, and other U.S. Cities, multicultural workers account for 90 percent of the workforce. There are staggering increases—700- 900%—of multicultural populations in Tennessee, Georgia, Iowa, and other places.
On your way to Morocco? Hmmm...what to wear?
; "Hindi Zahra (photo: www.hindi-zahra.com)")
The airport of Marrakesh - Menara is part of the 13 best airports in the world, according to a 
After a few hours, I got tired of sitting down as shoe shiners, beggars, men, women and children walked by in search of an illusive stroke of good luck, or in avoidance of that inevitable sense of mortification pressed on them by reality. My oneirism as I ogled the swinging supple derrieres of pulchritudinous women dissipated. My glass of Moroccan coffee had been empty and cold for quite some time now. I paid and left the Atlanta café and walked toward the post office on boulevard Panoramique. I stood on the curb for ten minutes trying to hail a taxicab before one stopped. It bluntly peeled off the traffic and came to a halt inches away from me; so close in fact that if I hadn’t curled my toes in, it would have rolled over them. I opened the door and jumped in the back.
He had a home in Marrakech. He had shops in Paris.He had design projects left and right. He had 350 embroiderers embroidering. (Sigh, so refined.) 
