We come and we go like the ripples on the stream, so love me tonight because tomorrow is made for some

Kasbah de Oudayas, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudayas, Rabat - Fishermen


Kasbah de Oudayas


Kasbah de Oudayas, Rabat


Rabat Medina, Residence

Love is just like a faucet it turns off and on. Sometimes when you think its on baby, it has turned off and gone

The look she gives Lester Young is priceless

Like any good newsworthy event of the 20th century, one of the most touching pieces of jazz history happened in front of the television cameras. On 5 December 1957, CBS aired a jazz special, The Sound of Jazz, which brought together many of the living jazz superstars. Billie Holiday was to sing the song "Fine and Mellow" in a casual group setting. Holiday was close to death, though still one of the most attractive women in the world in her ponytail and plaid slacks. She had been courting a serious love affair with heroin for many years. Accompanying Holiday was a myriad of horn-playing legends. Of particular interest was the tenor sax section, which was comprised of Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, and Lester Young.

Lester Young and Billie Holiday were the Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris of the jazz world. The music the two of them made together was so achingly beautiful and so perfectly in synch it seemed impossible that they were not lovers. As with Gram and Emmylou, the exact nature of their relationship remains somewhat enigmatic. Young was the one who gave the nickname "Lady Day" to Holiday and she in turn called him "Prez". Since the late 1930s, the two had made incredible music together and spent a great deal of time around the other. But they had had some sort of rift, perhaps over Holiday's drug use, and had not spoken for years before the television special.

Prez, who had wrecked his body with alcohol, was in such ill health he couldn't stand for the duration of the six-minute song. Holiday launched into the song and each sax man took a turn. Gerry Mulligan was first and played a solo in double-time. Webster was next, blowing a beautiful, breathy chorus. And then it was time for Prez. When it was Young's turn he wearily stood up, and locked eyes with Holiday as she sang a song with lines like "Love is like a faucet / It turns off and on". As Lady Day sang, Prez hit every note exactly in time with her and they took off like two eagles riding an air current as they rose higher and higher, way out of that studio and those television sets, circling around each other, Prez blowing the notes that sustained her as if he was the body to her soul, and then they came together in mid-air, as mating eagles will, and plummeted hundreds of feet earthward together, before breaking off and flying their separate ways. People in the control booth had tears in their eyes. It was the swan song of a bittersweet affection. After the show, the two had some brief backstage conversation and then they bid goodbye. They each had less than two years to live. Prez would die alone in a New York hotel, his body finally calling it quits. Not long after that, Holiday would be arrested on her deathbed for heroin possession.

Everybody's got a thing, but some don't know how to handle it

But I am worried.

A Dangerous Woman to a Point

Djma El Fna, Marrakech. Main square in Marrakech Medina. Food stalls, musicians, beggars, glue sniffers, story tellers, magicians, monkeys, snakes, europeans, noise.




Djma El Fna, Marrakech


Djma El Fna. This guy was like "take picture, take picture". Then he was like "pay me, pay me." I gave him a little money but he started following me and I had to scream on him. Very annoying, and he's not even that photogenic. I could have gotten this for free by taking a picture of a Black Israelite on 125th Street.


Djma El Fna, Marrakech


Djma El Fna, Marrakech


Djma El Fna, Marrakech


Djma El Fna, Marrakech. These food vendors can get really aggressive and when I refused to by their food they heckled me and told me I was too skinny.


Cafe on the edge of Djma el Fna where I had a cafe au lait. There's like a million Europeans there.


Hotel Fantasia, Medina, Marrakech. I hitched a ride to Marrakech with a French guy and two American girls. They were heading up there for a friends party but staying in the Ville Nouvelle. I chose to stay in the Medina and wander around. It was my first time staying at a hotel by myself. Hotel Fantasia is a Riad, which means its an old mansion transformed into a hotel. My room was super tiny, no frills, only 150 dirhams, which is like $19. There was no bathroom in the room, but shared bathrooms in the hallway. It was a water closet in every sense of the word. The shower and toilet were one in the same. I can't tell you how weird it was to pee over a hole. It took me like 5 minutes to do it eventhough I really had to go. And instead of toilet paper you take the showerhead thingy and spray yourself. So uncomfortable, and slightly icky. So I tried to find another hotel, couldn't find any singles so just hopped on the train and headed back to Rabat. But the night I was in Marrakech I went to this girl's party at this club. And let me tell you the Moroccans at this club flipped the fuck out over salsa. There was a live band that sung mostly salsa songs, also some really awesome Moroccan songs, and random American stuff like "Celebration." But yeah they were really into Salsa, and could dance to it too. Also, in another random moment they played a New York house song from the 90's and these Moroccan kids start breakdancing. Surreal.

Look both ways when crossing the street

No new pics today. Went and signed up for Arabic language classes. In Morocco they speak a dialect of Arabic called Darija. It's a mixture of Berber, French, and Spanish. Actually lots of French mixed in. For other Arabic speakers, say in Egypt, Darija is almost intelligible. But Darija speakers can understand Arabic, so its a one-way street so to speak. After signing up for classes I went to the supermaker La Belle Vie. It looks like any American grocery store. The products are all either French or Arab. I bought my usual soy milk, cereal, Orangina etc. But downstairs is an entire liquor world. I was the only female down there, other than the checkers. It was mobbed with men just getting off of work. There was every type of liquor imaginable, so much for this being a Muslim country. I luckily found my favorite red wine, Coted du Rhone, which I am happily sipping on now, you know to calm my nerves. I had a near death experience where a motorbike ran into me. Luckily it was just a light tap and I am no worse for wear, just a slight tire print on my jeans. People drive absolutely insane here. They drive down the wrong way on a one-way street, and on two-way streets they routinely cross over into oncoming traffic. Its every man to himself, and that goes for pedestrians too. So yeah I'm enjoying a glass with some yummy patisseries that I picked up at this store. They make the best pastries here. So now I've found two places where my language skills are no impediment, the cafe (its pretty easy to say cafe au lait and croissant du chocolat) and the patisserie (where its acceptable to point at what you want.) C'est bon.

Shut Up I'm Dreaming of a Place Where Lovers Have Wings

Gnoua musicians, Kasbah de Oudaias. They twirl the tassles on their caps without moving their heads its really cool. Update: I got a "wow" comment from a stranger on my flickr page for this 2 minutes after posting. Word!


Old Medina, Rabat


Old Medina, Rabat


Old Medina, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Hassan Mosque, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Hassan Mosque, Rabat


Hassan Mosque, Rabat


Hassan Mosque, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Hassan Mosque, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Kasbah de Oudaias, Rabat


Hassan Mosque, Rabat

Satellite TV is a Mind Fuck

Woke up really early this morning. After having an allergic reaction to all the cigarette smoke at my cafe, I went home and took my satellite tv for a few spins around the block. After watching the Egyptian version of Starksy & Hutch from the 70s, what do I find but a dubbed version of The Bodyguard with Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner. Woh. Isn't that movie like universally bad. Maybe it is and that's why they played it at 8am. I also saw lots of Bollywood, Bollywood is huge in Morocco, some Italian porn, Arab music videos (one girl looked just like Fergie and was rolling around on a huge leather gold star bed/pillow with a lycra body suit with a huge slit down the front - c-l-a-s-s-y, and another was a Lebanese Beyonce circa the curly weave mixed in with the "Crazy in Love" video moves), Egyptian soaps, and uh yeah Italian porn.

Dijarnat

I just got back from a food orgy. It was dark and we took a taxi to the Medina. A man in a white robe and red fez cap lead us down the narrow alleyways. He stopped at an ornate golden door with a heavy knocker and knocked 3 times. Behold Restaurant Dirjanat. Originally a seventeenth-century mansion it is now a palatial eatery. Live traditional Moroccan musicians gently played in the main dining hall while a fire, kept alive by the ever so gracious staff, burned at the far end. I have never in my life seen anything more beautiful. Of course I didn't bring my camera (the picture above is a random one from the internet) but to do so would have ruined the ambiance. Every detail from the carpet, to the light fixture, plates, and glasses were delicate and exquisite. Before dinner they bring you warm rose water which they pour over your hands into a basin with floating rose petals. I had the sweet lamb tagine with raisins and almonds. The lamb just fell off the bone and the sauce was sublime. But let me not forget the starters, oh the starters! What rhapsody. We had the traditional soup Hairira which is a tomato based chicken soup with cilantro, lentils, rice, saffron, cumin, and cinnamon. This is actually the dish I made on New Year's Day. This is a staple of the Moroccan diet. During Ramadan they break their fast with dates and this soup. It is quite filling. But let me not forget the prince of the starters, the Pastilla. Oh the Pastilla how I love thee. Pastilla is made of ground pigeon (I know but its delish) and combines sweet and salty flavors. The pigeon is marinated in a broth then cooked in sweet and ever so flaky phyllo dough, brushed with butter, and then topped with ground almonds, sugar and cinnamon. I think I'm in love. We had a lovely bottle of wine and people watched all the glamorous diplomats and wealthy Rabatis in attendance. And at the end of the meal they brought over rose oil as a fragrance for our hands. What an experience. I think I'm starting to like this place.

Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction - Alice in Wonderland

today i went to the Medina by myself. the Medina is the oldest part of the city and where things are sold. i bought a gillette women's razor. they gave me a hard sell on the shaving cream.


this was a really narrow alley. but i just had to go down the rabbit hole.

Outside wall of the Medina.

many many people live in the alleyways.

It's really crazy when you think you're taking pictures on the sly and then when you look at it later like 2 people are staring directly at you like WTF?! In Morocco people really dislike having their picture taken.

There is a really hight illiteracy rate in Morocco. So people go to these men who type out all their letters and correspondences for a small fee. There is a lovely movie directed by Walter Salles called Central Station about people who do this in Rio.



I bought strawberries.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

There remain nothing but reflections now in the woods repopulated with absurd animals, with well-known plants - The Magnetic Fields by Andre Breton

I arrived in Casablanca this morning. Things are so surreal. At the international terminal at JFK I had an Aaliyah is freaking the fuck out moment. In an instant my euphoria and excitement turned into paranoia and severe panic. But I went ahead with my plans, embarking on a trip to a land where I knew not a single soul. What have I done? The country from above seemed like some a Dada painting where everything was distorted. In the airport there was a crowd of people from Mali in pilgrims clothes praying and tending to and endless stream of crying babies. I changed my money after getting thru customs and waited for the train from Rabat. On the train I missed my stop and had to try to use my, what I now know is my ineffectual french, while the man across from me in my seat put powdered opium on his gums. The apartment is nice and spacious. It's in the fashionable district of town. From my window there is a cafe where Moroccan men seem to spend countless hours smoking and drinking tea out of tiny glasses.

Just get me to the airport and put me in a plane. Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain.