We travelled as four into Morroco. Our van broke down in Saragosa, Spain, we fixed it in Tangier. My main memory is the little bumb we did when arriving at the port in Tarifa in south of spain. One night in a hostel right at the Strait of Gibraltar that disconnects Europe from Africa by only 13 km.
We leave early in the morning, barely a jog from the hostel. We step onto the ferry, leave the van in the belly and enjoy the ride. There is an old american memory anchored in this part of the world. Jimmy Hendrix, the beat generation all had reported on the oriental promise it holds.
After some relaxing days in the high atlas, with hikes and camping, I travelled off towards Marrakesh, buzzling City of سوق . Find a sweet stop at Essouria and travel back to the inner Atlas.
Cities like Fes and Meknes
It takes long busride to get here, one of them peaking at 12 hours. The latter one a city with little tourist ambition remains still as daily life sweeps through it lightfilled corners.
As I made my days through the city and tried to capture something that felt more life like than the globalized frontlines of Hallo, Guten Tag! Möchten Sie … etwas kaufen? to kind hearted, warm, people, genuine exhaustion and a secret place for pride.
The photo marks an especially composite time in my life where i was not anymore and had not yet become. As Covid-Sars 2 had hit society with no remedy and little outlook for what would happen next, i do not want to determine what the future is gonna look like.
Days in quarantine pass as if walking through spilled honey. Time pressures my mind and yet days go by without change. The temporarilty of theatre had made it difficult to chronicle the moments of past sucess as little more than a picture or video.
With only traces available, i want to favour what is documented best. In this way, this blog does not cover the enteirety of what i work or do as a hobby. But only what i liked the most in either one of them.
I spent the first day in Istanbul looking for new shoes. After nearly a month of walking on greek roads my blue 5 Euro linen sandals would just not cut it anymore. Spending 2 hours through busses, taxis and whatnot i found new, good boots but no way back. An Imam literally appeared out of nowhere to help.
I am not entirely sure how he knew or where he got the time to accompany me back but he had guessed right. I wasn’t able to get back to the center even half an hour into the return travel. But here I was, this bridge and then the right, two steps up and simply straight until the sign. And this time, it came with another surprise.