Marrakech and the Western Sahara, Morocco

This is not how I expected to start this blog but: I am in Morocco and, God is here.

To my surprise, my main impression of Morocco so far is of God made visible by the people – like those painting books we used to have as kids where you painted an apparently blank page with water and a coloured picture appeared. What ever happened to those books?

Marrakech is somewhat unnerving. The square in front of the Souks is filled with snake charmers, men with monkeys on chains, story tellers watched over by owls, henna tatoo artists and general chaos. The call to prayer clears the square and souk owners wash from bottles of water  but most stay in the hope of a sale.

We spent a night in the Sahara. We drove over the mountains from Marrakech and then took dromodaries out to a ring of bedouin tents as the sun set. My sandals were loose and I was worried I’d loose them as we rode through the desert so I took them off and somehow the sunset ride through the desert, the feel of my bare feet against the dromodary, the songs the caravan leaders sang as they led us through the desert all made it feel so timeless and spiritual.

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