“Back home, at university, in my original Design Study Statement, I wrote that I would evaluate the use of water features in the Moroccan medina urban public realm, with a view toward deriving a metric of understanding their physical and cultural components.
“I must be frank. I almost failed this self-directed Moroccan design study.
“My time in Tangier took me to some deep places—some I had seen before. Others? Most peculiar…I didn’t know where I was. And others still where I was glad to be.”
But that is CJ’s tale; this prequel is my story.
A weak breeze and a few late wisteria flowers prepared me to be charmed by the view of the Strait of Gibraltar the way I like it–a safe distance, a comfortable distance away from that strangely aggressive magic, that throbbing aura of Joseph Conrad’s Africa. The more I thought about it, the more I could feel that hot African breath prickling the back of my neck.
I had been strolling lazily, inspecting the Gibraltar hotel where I was staying. I walked through the Barbary Bar out onto the shaded Wisteria Terrace. Nobody was sitting out there. Off season. Siesta time of day. Perfect quiet for me, perfect for daydreaming–my way of searching for the orange gardens of the Hesperides.
Curious Tales The Prequel is free to read on Kindle Vella at this link (https://bit.ly/3Hv6p2p)
On the twelfth day of Ramadan, Maalem Hamid and I arrived at the shop about 8AM. Maalem Hamid finished the outstanding work. I watched him do the final touches. I helped where I could; but I was tired and mostly watched. He did a lot of detailed tooling; his assistant did leather stamping.
When they finished the first book, the maalem proudly offered it to me for examination. I took it. I hefted it. I felt it. I inspected it. I paged through it. Yes, it was beautiful–content aside, it was every bit as delectable a product as I could have ever hoped for.
About two in the afternoon, when he had finished the details, he wrapped the five books in thick brown paper himself. Then he ceremoniously presented to me the final five books. I placed the balance of what was due for his services in his hand. Then we shook hands. He was proud. I was proud.
And honestly, it had been such a pleasure to watch the exceptional craftsman handle his tools, and produce such a refined result in appearance, in touch, and in technical strength. I thanked him.
He walked with me to the Place El Hedim where I took a Petit Taxi. He and I both waved until he was out of sight.
Almost sunset when I arrived in the Ville Nouvelle. Lights on in Tom’s place. Knocked and showed them one of the final copies. My time in Morocco was up. Over the past six months, Tom and Marcela had given me shelter every time I needed it. I owed them.
Arranged to have dinner together at a 5-star Ville Nouvelle hotel restaurant the next night.
I spent the day packing. I took Marcela and Tom for dinner at the Hotel Transatlantique with a full-blown late-night Ramadan Iftar buffet special, filled with more options than I could list. It didn’t make much difference to me because all through the Iftar dinner I was dreaming not just to be home for Christmas, but of a White Christmas.
***
Christmas Now
The morning of the fourteenth day of Ramadan–couldn’t believe it–my personal last day of Ramadan–my last day in Morocco!
Tom drove me to Casablanca airport. We left early in the morning when it was still dark. Three hours on the road–a Moroccan autoroute. Raining and gray, low clouds all the way. The earth was sucking in all the moisture. Plants looked happy. The ride, though, was a slog.
I was emotionally depleted. My last Moroccan memories like the first–sensually extravagant. We had parked and I was walking. Just at the pedestrian entry to the airport terminal–my sense of smell was assaulted by–clusters of Eriobotrya japonica trees in flower–excessively sweet to the place where fragrance meets odor. Goodbye Morocco.
Finally, I was off the ground. Casa-Brussels-NYC-home. I was outta there! Phew! Never thought it would happen. Relief.
But then there was also sadness. Ma’salama. I’ll never be the same. But then I mentally blinked–twice–reset.
Wonder what Santa will bring?
Back home. I paused in transit in New York, had to go through passport control and customs. Outside, it was snowing. Thanked my lucky stars to be standing there where at least I hoped I could live happy in the land of the free. The country where we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our heads.
Last flight…after gathering my luggage, I looked around and thought, I am starting again. LittleWing was the first I saw, then Kate and Sam–they all met me.
Kate joked, “Look who got a Med sun tan.”
Sam observed and, with a smile on his face, gruffly asked, “Did you order this winter wonderland snowstorm?”
But Sachy was the first to wrap her arms around me–eyes all aglow–a huge smile on her face as she ran up to greet me. Hugged me hard and in my ear she whispered, “Home for Christmas!”
I stepped back, looked deeply into her eyes. It was her, Sachy, in real life, in front of me. Could this be? I held Sachy by her shoulders and said, “Lovely weather for a sleigh ride!”
I put my arms around her again, pulled her ever so close and, in the tightest of hugs, I whispered in her ear, “This is not a dream–my heart is warm–I couldn’t have done it without you!”
***
CJ made it home; but Morocco, unbeknownst to him, lingered.
***
If you wonder what actually happened during CJ’s six months in Tangier, pick up the eBook, Tangier Gardens–out of the classroom into the real world–via plant portals, here: https://amzn.to/3HLrtyv
La Baie de Tanger–the beach at Tangier with the medina and Kasbah in the background. No wonder CJ thought he had it made for his term-abroad design study.
What could possibly undo the beauty of this landscape, its plants, its gardens, its sun and sandy beaches?
Or is the question, rather, what could enhance this outstandingly beautiful landscape?
CJ had his hands full.
He tried to explain it in a series of short stories about his six months in northern Morocco. He called his very short stories tales.
Tales?
Tales because in Morocco, for the first time in his life CJ couldn’t distinguish between fiction and fact.
CJ’s tales are the reveal.
***
Those very short stories are, for the first time, being released on Vella everyday between now and Christmas Eve.
The first three episodes are FREE and 16 tales have already been posted. Find them here=http://bit.ly/3B9rJXE
ENJOY!!
All 43 tales will be found under one ebook cover titled Curious Tales and via KDPselect will be offered for FREE on the day of launch likely in the first half of 2023. Sign up here to be notified of the launch date to get all 43 tales for free=https://bit.ly/3q5lcaq
***
If you wonder what actually happened during CJ’s six months in Tangier, pick up the eBook, Tangier Gardens–out of the classroom into the real world–via plant portals, FREE on Smashwords here: https://bit.ly/3SIAfma
The popularity of landscape photographs these days is the result of our lives being so turbulently fast-paced that we humans have an unquenchable existential thirst. We try to satisfy that thirst by absorbing in a one second glance at a landscape photo the peace and inspiration so essential to a fulfilling human existence. But we do not have the time to go out in the real life landscape to actually bathe our souls in it.
***
Do you agree?
If so, maybe you’d like to read the landscape stories I write.
Went to sleep hearing the rainfall on the roof. It wasn’t cold, but late autumn coolness everywhere. The falling rain eased me into sleep.
Oh, that first snowfall of the winter…oh, that first snowfall of the year.
There’s nothing quite like it. Waking up to the first–clean, bright, yet not glossy–the best white.
Yesterday’s Autumn.
Yesterday like that.
Today…
Joy on high–the first snowfall!
In life, natural things have always attracted me, so I look for them and write about them
I am a nature lover and a landscape aficionado.
I am curious about all things green—the environment, plants, gardening, horticulture.
And because I am intrigued about the multi-cultural, mystical history of people and plants, I have lived in North Africa, Europe and the Arabian Peninsula.
The great and prosperous 1950’s USA cities are now, 70 years later, looking more often like this.
Decaying, falling down, not habitable. The big tree of hard working people, families and jobs that supports great and prosperous cities–cut down in its prime. Sad.
My secret pleasure? I find it when I see clouds forming and escaping from the mountains.
clouds
When the temperature, humidity and barometric pressure are amenable, I can see the mountains breathing.
*
This pleasure from nature, the landscape, the topography, the plants…that is the heart of CJ’s discoveries in my novel, Tangier Gardens, where the student becomes mesmerized by the northwest Africa landscape and Tangier gardens. Interested? Buy the book.
