A baby giraffe was spotted today near AUI’s classroom buildings. Surrounded by adoring students, he happily posed for numerous photo opportunities.
Raise your glasses, dear readers, and pay attention, for today marks a special day: not only is it my wonderful creator’s birthday (hey, Mama!), but it is also the day that this blog begins to feature real people. Over the next weeks, students and members of the Ifrane area community will share here thoughts on their everyday lives, concerns and dreams.
The first person who agreed to speak with me is Rashid Oumichi. A 24-year-old vegetable seller from Ifrane, Oumichi works at the marché, the market students and village citizens rely on to keep ourselves fed, hygienic, clothed and clean cut.
As you may have noticed, this blog is mostly devoted to food, landscapes and cats. While these images may seem innocent, they’re actually evidence of a big problem I’ve been trying to deny when it comes to my photography.
Dear readers, I have a fear of rejection.
While I’m completely happy to take pictures of subjects like noodles and kittens, who probably couldn’t care less about their images being posted online, I’m deathly afraid of asking individuals who might say no.
A photojournalist whose work I admire very much recently pointed out that this fear is somewhat bulls***. She told me I needed to include more pictures of people in this blog and, to meet the journalistic code of ethics, ask their permission as well. So, in order to work on this fear and my fledgling Arabic, I decided to employ her suggestions on a weekend trip to Fes.
Here are my first attempts, dear readers: the Fes medina from a different perspective.
After spilling out of the Grand Taxi Saturday morning. T., E., Darling and I hangrily (scientific term) rushed to the nearest restaurant to avoid clubbing each other for the succulent meat we hide beneath smooth flesh. We found a BBQ joint rivaling Arthur Bryant’s, where we consumed kidneys and hearts. Here are the chefs who saved us from a gruesome fate.
At Fes’s hillside medina, the friendly A. crushed sugar canes and lemons for us to drink.
Within the medina’s pinball hustle, a striped little boy enjoyed meeting a donkey.
A young merchant selling multicolored nougat and sesame seed candy fearlessly advertised his wasp nest (note: I did not ask him to do this).
And a woman hustled through a relatively deserted alley reminiscent of the Hodgson Burnett’s secret garden.
Next time, I will try to collect the stories of these individuals.
If you have any questions or suggestions regarding visuals or text, please let me know!
Hello! I’m sorry for the shortness of this post. Midterms have not been kind this past week, and have driven me to act in hermit-like ways. So, instead of experiencing new and exciting Moroccan things to share with you, I have been delving into the worlds of Senegalese music and Lebanese masculinity. In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of the moon over E’s favorite rock climbing place:
After spending a lovely morning with Gh., T. and I again traversed Fes’s medina labyrinth to find her a coat, boots and haircut. We entered Mellah, the city’s mediaeval-styled Jewish area, and found Boutique Arizona. While a degenerate English-language version of the Romanian “Dragostea Din Tei/Numa Numa Song” played in the background, two giggling teenage boys helped us find a beautiful coat that made T. look like someone out of Game of Thrones. I got a knockoff gold Adidas gym bag, which is sort of really cool and made me feel royal, as well.
On a hot, steamy Saturday in October, T. and I ventured to Fes for winter clothes. Joined by the valiant Gh., a friend from Rabat, we met at the Jnane Sbile gardens…