There was an article in the newspaper travel section today about Morocco. I found myself happy to see pictures of places I'd seen, and grateful again that my daughter's path encouraged me to follow. Actually, all four of the kids have gotten me places I might no have gone. The middle two got me to New York for years, where I saw great art and had great food. The oldest got me to the midwest and introduced me to the Minneapolis Art Museum, the Detroit Institute, and the best farmer's market I've ever seen. Our youngest gave us an entree into Philadelphia, where we saw art shows and the liberty bell and constitution hall. We visited her in Paris. We visited the other daughter in Spain, then Prague, then Morocco twice. And our first trip abroad was with all four kids to visit the older two's stepmom and brother, in Ireland. We saw London, Scotland, a bit of Wales and Ireland, and we've been back to Ireland and England to visit.
So we owe the kids a lot. We've done traveling on our own as well, and I usually say my favorite trip was Egypt, but Morocco is right up there. I loved the medinas, the souks, the riyads, the roman ruins, the storks, the friendliness of the people, the food. When my best friend and I visited, my daughter set us all up with a cooking class in Fez, and that was truly a feast. I love every single craft they have in the souks, and the light, the mosaics, the desert, the mountains are spectacular. My friend and I rode the trains, which are safe and efficient, and our time in Marrakesh was magical. We'd sit on the rooftop of our riyad and see out over the old city. It was a maze of streets, but we were off the big plaza and somehow always found our way back. My daughter and her husband helped us find rugs in the mountains, and I have a Berber blanket straight off a camel in my living room, draped on my sofa. I have two red leather poufs, and charming ceramics. Great memories.
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