Day 129: Hay

My camping buddie at Hay this weekend.

Day 128: Mesquita

I just found this rather majestic photo of the Mesquita in Cordoba and don't know why I didn't post it before.
So better late than never...

Day 127: Promenade

But not the Portobello kind. This may be the last Morocco photo now. And the last blog from me for a few days. Back soon, hopefully with some good pics of British summer time. Adios.

Day 126: Chives

Day 125: First Allotment BBQ

Today it's all about the thing.

Not necessarily great pictures.

But a great thing. The first allotment BBQ of the year. And this one was slightly different. Sausages cooked on the BBQ, in the tagine, with onions, garlic, cumin, ras el hanout, tomatoes, mushrooms, orange pepper and flaked almonds. Then we placed the tagine on a brick in the centre and all ate from the one plate, scooping with pitta bread and drinking chilled white wine from a plastic cup. Great summer days indeed.

Day 124: Dandelion

I feel bad because I'm very much stealing this style from Mr. Craigie.

But let's say it's less stealing and more of an 'homage'.

Day 123: Soufian

Day 122: Doorway

Day 121: Creme Alsagar

Day 120: Tiles

Day 119: Water carrier

Water carriers used to sell drinking water in little cups that hang from their tunic. Apparently, the 'drinking' water contains some secret hallucinogenic ingredient.

Day 118: Candlelight

Day 117: Chin Chin

Happy Friday all.

Day 116: Friendship

Day 115: Djemma El F'na

This place just came alive at dusk. All the food stalls are wheeled into the square every evening about 4pm. By 6.30 it's crazy busy.

If you can add the sounds of drums and snake charmers and the smells of barbecued kefta and calamari, you'll get a better picture of what it was like.

Oh and if you look really closely, you might be able to spot the man selling individual false teeth.

Day 114: Bread

Dipped in honey or olive old for breakfast.

The dough is pressed to the walls of the clay oven like naan in a tandoor.

Day 113: Tea pouring

Cont'd from last post...

Because from where I was standing there was an awful lot of chatting going on. Oh, and drinking of tea.

Mint tea, "Moroccan whisky", was served with great flourish, usually from quite a height. The pouring of tea was very much the domain of the head of the household but also something of a competitive sport. Who could pour the highest and cleanest - there was quite a skill to it.

So moving on from topsy turvy labour divisions, the mint tea was always lovely, always refreshing but I didn't quite appreciate how much sugar was in it until I saw the equivalent of two sugar bowls going into the pot! So lovely tea or teeth - you decide.

Berber coffee was also interesting as it was served with thyme. I really wasn't sure about the idea of it at first but I actually really enjoyed it.

Day 112: Division of Labour

So let's talk division of labour, people.

Berber women cook. Before they can cook, they need to fetch the firewood for cooking. Great bundles of sticks and branches strapped to their back, brought down from the surrounding hills. In order to have anything to cook on the fire with the firewood, they need healthy well fed animals. Again, back to the hills for further enormous loads of long grasses. Then they need water. For the plants to grow and the animals to drink. So multiple trips in a day to the river to fill up the buckets. The largest bucket held about 20 litres and this lady carried it (semi) effortlessly - she only needed to do this trip four times on this particular day because there were two extra pairs of hands helping to fetch the water.

Well, Ok, yes it was more like just the one extra pair of hands as, admittedly, I was doing a fairly good impression of Margo from the Good Life. In my defence, the rocks were quite slippy in flip flops.

So yes, the heavy, physical work is definitely the woman's domain in the Berber household. Now I'm not one for advocating traditional labour roles but I was really quite shocked at the amount of back breaking work these women had to do in a day. I wouldn't be able to manage a third of their workload and what I did manage would only be achieved through a fair amount of tears and probably a tantrum or two.

Then there arel the domestic chores - the cooking, serving and clearing up the dishes. It is true that there are probably several women in the house that can share the tasks - in this place we stayed there were three generations, so really four women and girls doing the work.

But I have to ask, where exactly were the men when all this work was taking place and what exactly were they doing?

See next post....

Day 111: Night life

I haven't really blogged many pictures yet that show how vibrant Marrakesh was, especially in the Djemaa El Fna after sunset.

Here's a couple more.

Day 110: More fish

For sale at the harbour in Essaouira

Day 109: Car boot

I must be one of the very few people who ends up paying 50% MORE than the original asking price at a car boot sale.

But that's what happened on Sunday. I wasn't buying Action Men, by the way, I was buying another set of Russian President dolls (but I've already blogged a picture of these, so don't want to repeat myself), so here's a picture I took of other things on sale at the car boot.

So this is how it happened. I saw a miniature version of the Russian President dolls at one of the stalls. I have a slight penchant for them and you don't see quality ones on sale very often, especially not in the UK. I asked the seller how much they were and he said £2. I faffed around deciding whether to buy them, plucking up the courage to barter, getting the money together. Then returned to the stall. "How much are the Russian dolls again, £2?" I asked again and his mother digging in the boot of her car shouted out "No, No, The Russian dolls are £5".

Now. Ordinarily I would have kicked up a fuss given the original price of £2. But just then, she turned round and I realised the mother was non other than the legendary Mary Moriarty -prominent Leith figure and formiddable proprietress of equally legendary Port o' Leith bar. She can perform the superhuman feat of breaking up fights between drunk and beligerent sailors, whilst dressed in full evening gown and pearls, without upsetting a hair on her impeccably coiffured white head (this isn't a pub I've been too a lot, I should add, but I used to work round the corner from it so it was an occasional Friday evening post-work drink venue). Each visit was memorably hilarious, normally ending with someone dancing shirtless (not me) on the bar.

It's famous for sailors leaving memorabilia when they leave so I figured this is where the dolls came from. She agreed to sell them to me for £3 and for that, I didn't bother to barter. It's a little piece of history so £3 is a pretty paltry price to pay, no?

Day 108: Elections and other momentous events

OK, I know this sounds like one of those 'face of Jesus in the marmite' moments but don't you think that the shadow on David Cameron's left hand shows him clearly crossing his fingers?

Come on, no? Yes? It does, doesn't it?

Can't he make all the promises he likes with his fingers crossed and not follow though on them, I think it does?

Well I'm going to start that conspiracy theory anyway, especially if we wake up tomorrow to find him grinning from the doorstep of Number 10.

I'm wishing we could just suspend democracy for the next 5 years and institute a panel of economic and apolitical experts who can navigate our way out of this fiscal disaster without needing to worry about vote-pleasing sound bites and partisan politics.

I've voted but I'm depressed about the whole thing. I won't be watching any election coverage for that reason but I will be waking regularly through the night to check on this.

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=086W5QOEo1UTJlkdVtsM3hipWGYHPIhz3

Brighid's brother, Domnall and his climbing partner Lucille are, as we speak, making their way to the summit of Everest, hoping to reach the top sometime in the night or early morning and make their way down to safety before the weather turns tomorrow afternoon.

I've been completely hooked on Lucille's blog and I wish them a successful and safe next few hours.

Day 107: Florence

Very late back from concert tonight so quick post of a not brilliant but good enough picture of the fabulous Florence and the Machine.

She rocks!

Day 106: Goatskins

Drying in the sun.

Day 105: Medina

All nature of vehicles pass down these narrow alleys, often at speed.

Day 104: Zaytuna

I love the Moroccan zaytuna cloak, or djellaba, not sure what the correct name is for them. But they kind of make me think of Tintin in the Crab with the Golden Claw.

As you can see, quite a bit of photographing from behind. Often without looking through the viewfinder. Just snap from the hip and see what comes out!

Day 103: Reed canopy

Generally, people weren't very happy about having their photo taken in the street so you had to be careful. In this photo, I was actually taking a picture of the shafts of sunlight coming through the reed canopy above and this lady walked into the shot. So morally/ethically I think I'm ok this time.

Day 102: Mohammed of the Dyers Souk

The Marrakesh souks are all divided up by trades, I guess it used to be the same in the old town of Edinburgh 200 years ago - Hay Market, Flesh Market, Fish Market - they all get their name from the trades that used to be peddled there.

In Marrakesh there's the blacksmiths' souk, the tanners' souk, the dyers souks, musical instruments, slippers, carpets, dried fruits and nuts, etc. You turn a corner in one of the narrow passageways and suddenly you switch from a lane full of people hammering leather to one full of people blowtorching iron bars.

In the Dyers souk, newly dyed scarves/wool balls hang out to dry in the sun.

Mohammed of the Dyers souk liked this picture I took of him and wanted me to send it to him. His address is Mohammed of the Dyers Souk, Marrakesh. Hmm. I hope it gets there.

Day 101: Ladies crossing the square

Day 100: Beltane and Broccoli

Beltane Festival on Calton Hill tonight.

Just a little tangential posting whilst I'm still in the middle of sharing my Morocco photos. I couldn't decide between this and celebrating the first allotment meal (purple sprouting broccoli, spinach, pine nut and Parmesan pasta), so I shall just share both with you.