In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott describes the process of writing to that of watching a Polaroid develop. Once the photo has been taken the image remains unclear for what often feels  like a painstakingly long time.

As with writing it’s only the faint shadows of a story that first emerge. The image and words are monotone and lacking in details but with perseverance, and in my case often, frustrations, the arduous process slowly starts to reveal a complete picture with stunning details, vivid colors and a scene that you couldn’t have even imagined.

When you try and look at the Polaroid before it’s fully developed or finish a story without working it out and giving it the time it deserves then you miss out on much of the detail that gives the piece life.

I can’t help but think that this analogy also works with traveling too, probably because I’ve been doing a lot of it lately and while reading this part of the book I was sipping Rum Punch while the Caribbean sun wrapped me warmly. I give you permission to roll your eyes in my general direction.

With each recent trip I assigned the adventure an already formed Polaroid without my even realizing it. I had set aside expectations and pre-conceived notions of what I should expect and what I planned to glean from the trip before I had even packed my bags.

On many of my recent trips I spent the first few days frustrated that the reality didn’t resemble the image that my Polaroid so clearly displayed. I fussed over failed expectations and tried my best to control the outcome until I finally realized (and realized again, sometimes it takes me awhile to learn a lesson) that I need to allow this experience to tell me it’s story rather than force one on it.

Once I allowed myself to simply experience I was open to changing of plans, fully experiencing the beauty of that place and the differences of culture. I was able to clearly listen to the story of the trip and the blurry scenes of the Polaroid began to reveal themselves into an image that exceeded my previous shallow expectations.

While I realize that it is nearly impossible not to enter in without some expectations, my hope for future trips is that I can quickly forget my Polaroid in order to make way for the one that is yet to be revealed.

Atlas Kasbah, Agadir

Anticipating what is said to be one of the worst snow storms that Seattle has seen in decades I find myself sitting on the couch, waiting for the snow with a beer in hand and falling deeply back into the images from Morocco. I have so much more to share with you all and I feel that if I don’t do it now it may never happen as February brings with it a new set of fun excursions. (!!)

Using my journal from that trip as a guide I’m reliving the details. At the end of each day I made a scattered list of all that that day entailed. I’ve learned from previous experiences that I tend to quickly forget the details and it’s in those where the real journey lies.

Each day was packed full of new sites, new sounds, and not enough sleep, leaving little time to write so what I do have written down is quite cryptic but it’s enough to help me return to that place.

On the fourth day we woke up at the Atlas Kasbah in Agadir. The stucco-like facade covered an exterior that resembled a castle. The surrounding landscape reminded me of the Umbrian region of Italy where I would look out over the cliffs of Orvieto and see vineyards, monasteries, and long winding roads leading to places I wanted to explore. Here the rolling hills weren’t covered in grape vines but of Argan trees and plants that looked prickly even from the distance of where I stood. The varying brown hues and absence of much green was a welcoming reminder that I was indeed in Africa.

The Atlas Kasbah is the dream of a husband and wife team. The kasbah is welcoming and immediately sets the scene of a place for respite and rejuvenation. I encouraged such behavior and found myself laying by a pale blue pool in the middle of November having just had a traditional Moroccan spa treatment. I lay back in the chaise for a moment soaking in the warmth of the sun and this rare moment of complete and utter relaxation.

You see those moments are a distant memory when three children are my daily routine. I was torn between the desire to just sit in that moment or record a few of the details in my journal as a way to sort of safe-keep that moment so I could live off of it for the months to come.

I anticipated the points in my days when I would need to stop and find a piece of that sun-filled happy place in order to find perspective in the midst of a messy house, screaming children, and an uncooked dinner.

Briefly I wrote of that hot sun and how the gentle breeze would interrupt at just the right moment, never allowing you to get too hot but making you miss its warmth before it returned. It took only a few seconds but I wrote of the pool and the vibrant gardens, the rosy orange glow of the kasbah at sunset, and the smell of Moroccan basil – softer and more subtle than our varieties. Then I lingered in that place cementing it in my mind and appreciating every aspect of it.

The scribbled details weren’t much but as the snow threatens and the kids perform their nightly regime of warding off sleep I am so thankful that I wrote.

Our last two days were in Marrakech and it is here that I vowed to return to this country. It seems that in every foreign country I visit it is always the city that I most love. The energy of its people, the sounds of excitement and life, and the smells; so inviting, yet so different.

I found it hard walking as with every step I found an image that I wanted to preserve. The colors filled me with inspiration in shades of blue and orange. I picked up a few items in the souk to help me relive fragments of Morocco and its culture – a tagine, spices like harissa, and ras al hanout, mint tea, and a pair of vibrant orange pointed shoes that I wear around our house daily.

At the end of our day we found silence and calm at the Four Seasons. I snuck deep into the bed eagerly anticipating the nightly Facetime date with my family. Over the phone I kissed and hugged each of my kids. I talked to a very tired husband who spoke freely of how excited he was that only two days separated us. I was excited too but also fearful.

Right after the page in my journal detailing the scene surrounding me and the warm Moroccan sun I wrote, “I’m afraid to leave for fear I’ll never return.”

It goes without saying that I missed my family it’s just that I wasn’t ready to leave. I wanted them to fetch a plane and meet me in Morocco instead of me heading home.

What better way to leave a place than not wanting to leave? The memories of that place are forever set to induce a pleasant longing. When you talk to others about it your entire face lights up and your insides swell. It becomes a mission, of sorts, to encourage others to venture there and demand they take you with them when they do go.

I do hope to return, but for now I am living in the details and in the feeling of never wanting to leave that place.

*update* The snow came and we’re at about 5 inches or so. For Seattle that’s life changing.

*Also, I made a blurb book from images from my trip. Many you’ve seen on the blog. The reason I tell you is more of a suggestion of what to do with travel photos. Instead of sitting on my computer I now have a beautiful coffee table book to peruse at my leisure and to share with others. As far as I know you can purchase the book if you want but I don’t make much, if any, money on it. Just wanted to share.

*Finally, thank you. I feel as if I forced you all to sit through my travel slideshow but rather than fall asleep and roll your eyes (well, maybe some of you did that) I was overwhelmed by the gracious responses to these posts. Thanks so much for encouraging me to share.

*Last thing, I promise. I was graciously sent to Morocco by the Moroccan tourism board. All photos and words are my own.

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The coastal town of Essaouira. Famous for kite and wind surfing. One of my favorite stops on the trip with rich history, stunning beaches, vivid culture and friendly camels.

I’m thankful for the experience of a new culture. For the reminder to maintain simplicity in order for life to be most fully lived.

I’m thankful for preserved lemons. Floral and tart, fragrant and salty. For a new flavor being welcomed into many of my current cooking adventures.

top: the remnants of chicken tagine with french fries

middle and bottom: moroccan mint tea served multiple times throughout the day

I’m thankful for a family that lets me go explore then welcomes me home with love and excitement.

I’m thankful to be home.

I’m thankful for color. Currently, I’m most thankful for this blue.

rooftop pool at L’Heure Bleue

I’m thankful for a camera and its ability to capture a glimpse of the beauty I experienced.

a master woodworker placing indigenous wood into this intricately designed table top

I’m thankful for rest. For renewed inspiration, creativity and the hope of what’s to come.

I’m thankful for the ride from a camel and the chance to view his lashes from on top.

I’m thankful for our differences and how a better understanding of them makes us all better people.

I’m thankful for the opportunity to share with all of you. Your presence here is a joy that my meager words always fail to express. Thank you for being a part of this place.

Happy Thanksgiving.

*I was graciously sent to Morocco by the Moroccan tourism board. All photos and words are my own.

Mazagan Beach Resort

When I first came to Morocco I expected this to be an incredible opportunity for me to be able to say that I came. I didn’t have plans to return and didn’t expect to make any. By day three I was plotting my next visit – where to take the kids and what would I show my husband first. Having just finished day five I am considering sending a plane for my family so I never would have to leave.

Over the coming weeks and months I anticipate this blog will be heavily influenced by this trip. Just the food alone is enough to leave me inspired for years. In these posts there will be more details from the trips and I will attempt to share some of the culinary magic that happens in this country.

For now I have some more photos to share from the second day of our trip.

From our time Oualidia, home to first class oyster beds. We enjoyed a paella made brilliantly yellow with Moroccan saffron and loaded with local seafood. Above there is a salad (possibly my new favorite) of tuna, tomato and avocado which is then finished with a balsamic dressing.

From the town of Safi which is home to the oldest pottery kilns in Morocco.

Afternoon and evening in Essaouira. The end of day 2.

*I was graciously sent here by the Moroccan tourism board. All photos and words are my own.

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