I landed in Marrakech yesterday late afternoon.  Three flights and almost 16 hours later I passed through San Francisco, New York and Lisbon to arrive in this city.  I have a few days in the Medina before I move to another part of the city where I’ll be taking an art workshop led by Nick Wilton of the SF Bay Area.  

That other part of the city is the new city.  A wall creates the inner and outer, the new and the old.  You’re either in or out.  

Inside, the city is like any bustling city, yet here you can see layers of history played out in real time.  It reminds me of my days in Salvador, Brazil where there are pockets of an era on every corner.  This is the mix I love.  Sleuthing to understand as new layers peel back or cover up.  Except here we’re talking centuries.

This is a city of veils and reflection.  You’ll miss it if you go too fast.  Peach colored walls and pavement softly embrace you and ease the morning light and afternoon sun.  In the evening the walls provide a warmth enclosing the city.  Imagine a city embraced by captured heat and verdant gardens which I’m beginning to explore.

Windows, like the eyes are hard to see through.  They have curtains, carved wooden shutters that are divided into a top and bottom, glass and an ornate grating.  Gradations of openings that visually taunt.  I pass windows and doors partially exposed and I am dared to look in.  Who can pass a door opened just a bit?  Is than an invitation for the outside to come in or the inhabitant wanting to not be forgotten?  
Interiors are illuminated darkness created by the use of metals, mirrors, lights and shiny satin fabric.  A small tiled pool in a courtyard reflects the directed sun light coming through the open ceiling three stories up.  

And then there are the scents.  I haven’t yet figured this one out but so far I’ve identified rose.  That was easy.  My room was tastefully scattered with rose petals when I walked in.