The City of Happiness

"How long will you stay in Marrakech?"
" Oh, just two or three nights."
A knowing smile, a wave of the finger. "No no. You will stay longer, a week, maybe two weeks. You will like Marrakech."
And so it was seven nights and we did fall in love with the City of Happiness.

The square is beginning to fill. Drums are rousing the flames of the kebab stalls' grills to life. The whine of the snake charmers flute is pulling down the sun. Orange juice sellers are calling to passers-by. Sunburnt tourists with hennad hands and dazzled eyes. Families with small children reaching for flashing and squeaking trinkets laid on the ground. The call to prayer rings above the smokey meat haze, echoed by the clinking of snail shells being spooned into porcelin bowls. It is at once the whirl of a carnival and the calmness of a warm summer evening. K sighs and calls it one of Earth's magical places. I agree, saying it is the world's best food court, which for some reason makes her laugh and shake her head. And yet, it is true. Just as Marrakech has opened itself up as a place to rest and rejuvenate, the Place Jemaa el Fna has nourished us.

Attending to the infected toe with our good friend, Dr. Nick.

Writing postcards in the park.

Palais de la Bahia: Ourselves so much in transition these days, it is not surprising that the doorways and archways of Moroccan architecture tend to draw us in. The ornate and colourful fixtures serve to make the segue from one space to another an inviting prospect and call on us to reflect on the beauty that can exist in change.