Kobi feels guilty for leaving his mother. He left for the US for “one season selling ice creams, Mom,” and returned to The Holy Land a degree, three languages, two and a half kids, and ten years later. And now, this little trip of ours was meant to be ‘one year, Mom,” and look at us entering year three with no end in sight. Kobi is the first of six kids and he has a very special bond with his mom. So, while I perfect the art of burning sticky rice on our balcony of the Binh Yen Hotel in Dalat, Vietname, he’s dreaming of taking his mom to her homeland Morocco.
So, Kobi dreams of going to Morocco with his mom; I’m dreaming of bigger boobs. I think Kobi will win first. And then there was that dream dream I had that Israeli supermodel Bar Rafaeli was going to give us $50,000. I met Bar on a beach and acted really normal towards this sexy goddess of beauty. I generously helped her out with some problem she was facing in life, and she offered us the money to buy an RV for a year across Europe. I then decided to ask her for $100,000 to cover gas too, but woke up. So, last I know, in November I will serendipitously walk into Bar on a beach and she’ll give us the money, which logically leads me into Marrakesh….
Kobi wants to go to Morocco, we’re huge on dreaming crazy dreams, and Bar will obviously be giving us the money soon, so we might as well start our research into where we want to go.
Morocco’s third largest city, Marrakesh, (you’ll love this) means “Land of God.” I already like it. And reading a bit of what there is to do there makes my heart drool.
“Gabi, you’re traveling the world already, do you really droll over travel destinations?”
I will allow my wise and passionate lover Rumi to answer:
“Two there are who are never satisfied — the lover of the world and the lover of knowledge.”
And of course, he’s right, and ok, fine, he’s been dead since 1273, but that doesn’t lessen the embers of our passion. I know you love me, and I love you, and Rumi, so, let’s move on.
What We’ll Do In Marrakesh
1- Turns out there are tons of bazaars called souks in Marrakesh. (In Hebrew, we say “shouk.” So close!) Of the many, the most famous souk is called Djemaa El-Fna. There, day and night, besides the normal local bazaar stuff, Djemaa El-Fna has street dancers, snake charmers, acrobats, and soothsayers. I can imagine us there, every day, just hanging out, breathing in the exotic awesomeness of it all.
2-There are these super-cool houses with internal courtyards called Riads. Wikitravel.org says this about riads:
Most windows are inward facing towards the central atrium. This design of property suits Islamic tradition as there is no obvious wealth statement being made externally, no windows to peer through. Entering a Riad is like discovering an Aladdin’s Cave in comparison to its non-descript exterior. They are great places to stay and offer an intimate and relaxing retreat.
3- And, as nature-lovers, there are tons of day trips out of Marrakesh into breath-taking nature. We could endlessly explore the High Atlas Mountains, the waterfalls and treks in the Ourika Valley, and snowy peaks of the Oukaimeden.
Clearly, we won’t be able to drop into town. It’s not like us. We like to settle down, to get to know the locals, to live like a local. We could do a hostel, which we barely did in Central and South America but hugely did in South East Asia. But, no, no, I think we would get one of those good Marrakech apartments which are very affordable.
Ok, I’ve Drooled Enough.
The short of it is this:
My grandparents were from Mother Russia, Poland, and Czechoslovakia; Kobi’s parents come from Syria and Morocco. Our kids are international mutts who now, entering year three of world travel, will be international explorers and citizens too.
I think I’ll do like Mrs.Yabror taught us in English Composition I way back in Houston Community College when I was making a ton of money working as an ice cream truck driver off The Port of Houston. She always said, “You frame your essay with an introduction and a conclusion,” and so, in honor of the Great Yabror (who really was so great, and fought so hard for her husband’s fight against cancer), here is my conclusion.
My love, not my love Kobi, my other love Rumi, also said: “Let yourself be drawn by the stronger pull of that which you truly love,” and I feel that is part of what having a bucket list is all about. It’s about playing with the strings of potential, puttering around with that play dough just to see how it feels on your finger tips. And so, we will make it to Morocco one day, either all of us, or at least Kobi and my lovely mother-in-law.
So, Rumi also said this:“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.” And so, you clearly see why I’m so lustfully in love with him, and how dearly I miss him, and you understand that our role in life is to weave our myths, so, dear friend, what is your myth? What will you unfold? What adventure will be your legacy? What are you leaving behind love? Tell me, tell Kobi, tell Rumi, and most importantly, tell the deepest crevices of your soul.
I love you.
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