I am in Marrakech! And why and for what. What a devil brought me here. I could have enjoyed the full moon with Rainbow family in the valley called Paradise. But not. I chose Marrakech and my farther destination Merzouga. Fine. Since the morning I had some strange feeling that Rainbow maybe later but not this time. I got a ride with Carlos, Mohamed and Yunes to Marrakech. I remember this city while I have been here before four years ago. Maybe it looked exactly the same. Maybe peoples behavior was as I experienced it today. Maybe there were drunk men asking you for a money for their poor children, maybe there were teenagers who course on you when you refuse to give them a cigarette. Maybe all that was already here four years ago. But at that time I haven't been to Tetouan, Chefchauen, Guelmim and Merleft. I haven't' met friends who invited me to their families houses where I was experiencing normal daily life. Where respect is not only the empty phrase and where people on the street leave you alone because they know you are a human as them. At that time I haven't met them and image of Marrakech I had in my mind till this evening shall remain as before. But on this trip, which is actually not my trip any more, is not my travel, is not the period of time when I am out and then I have to come back to my house in Europe and continue my work. This is a choice. Of living, of experiencing, of thinking. This is a choice where I want to go and with who. Which path to take and which ignore. I don't become Moroccan, I don't become Berber, I don't become Saharoui. I am myself but I live here. And maybe those are the last images that I see in my life. Maybe there will be not returning. Maybe I have no place to come back. I move forward. As we laugh with Mohamed that Allah didn't give me too much talents but he said: go go go go! SO i go. I go farther and farther. I make a thousand steps forward but at the same time I try to to make few inside. To see who I am, and who I will never become. As Carlos once made conclusion: I am where I live. I extended this to proverb: I live where I am, I am where I live. I think those two sentences can express at least a little bit me who become. I live here because it is my present life. I don't forget about my past. But I don't want it to rule me completely. My passed is good. As all of us. But there is only few who can say that present for them is enough. I think I can consider myself as a person who after he wakes up and makes few steps is smiling that is still alive. That can still share the beauty of this world with the mass. Yes with the mass. When you enter the street people are smiling, or more they are laughing. They laugh because they are alive. They have their problems but they stay positive because they know that you have to take it easy as if in the evening your life would finish. They trust god that he knows how much time has left for them. They enjoy themselves in a group. In the mass. And that is the most incredible phenomenon for me. They are all poor. They don't have computers, macbooks, plasma Tv-screens, they don't have cars. They travel by 6 in a cab. And they still can find optimism and respect for life when you talk to them. They smile, they are opened. If they can they would give you the last glass of water while dyeing from the suffer, if only by this way they could survive your life. Life. The most precious treasure of our existence. They know that. They know how to protect your physical side to stay alive as long as possible. They don't eat Hamburgers, even if they know how to make a really good kebab. The bread from their houses taste something different. Smells the grains and the fields. Smells the Sun and the wind. That is exceptional and unbelievable. They drink strong tea. Never coffee. They don't smoke because it kills. They use thousands of herbs, none of antibiotic. And they keep smiling when they are eighty.

And now I am in Marrakech. This second one. That I didn't know. The one where I encounter the man from Vienna and he tells me that all boys in India are gays, because he was there for one year and he knows. When I try to tell him that Moroccan people are super nice and I have just visited some friends, he answers with anxious that they all want only our money. When I explain to him that I want to stay with one family in the mountains for two months and learn pottery, he makes a gesture that for sure I have a daughter to fuck, thats why I want to live there. Our conversation was very very strange. I told him that maybe he was in India one year but he doesn't know India, the same as he stayed in Marrakech and he doesn't know Morocco. After this sentence he excused me and left to sleep. Maybe better for both of us. Who was right and who was wrong. Maybe none of us. Maybe we just see the world differently and that's it. After he left I could enjoy the full moon that was probably as bright as in Paradise Valley where I was supposed to be at the moment and maybe have conversation with the people who feel and see the world more similar like me. Rainbow never finish. There is always the rain and the Sun that provokes the colors. Next one Inshallah is mine.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!ATLANTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

:)

http://www.couchsurfing.org/group_read.html?gid=955&post=4810326


ulalalalalalallalalalaaaaaa

From Sahara to the North Pole

Tromso be prepaired!!!!!

Jeg kommer tilbake Inshallah!!!!! aaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu


But first Sahara and endless landscape and much more!!!!!


See you guys in a month!!!!

Faces of Maghreb

Tetouan

I sit in a small room somewhere between the first and the second floor. Behind the window voices whisper the melody of Maghreb. I live over one of the Medina's tiny streets. Dormitory is simple. Two beds, one small cupboard. In the corner someone put the pottery lamp. Again it makes me thinking why I am here. Why I have already met all those extraordinary people on my way. Why since the beginning in this realm I have been offered help from Abraham and Mohammed and one hour later just cheated by local guide - Mustafa. Why while crossing Gibraltar I could have felt more like in Norway. Why instead of reflections of ancient Greek's, Rome's or Arab's ships I had image of little Island on the North Sea. Why I situated myself with dogs in fully covered snowy mountains, in the kitchen where after work we used to eat the common food and drink Mack Ol to ease us falling asleep. Why I could have seen all beautiful people that I had met and felt them so strongly inside my heart. Why?

Maybe there is no answer, maybe I will never learn how to make pottery or ceramic. Maybe I will never become the master of clay. But already I know for what reason I am here.

To discover my passed life again and look with smile into the future. Understand peoples behavior and unity that I believe in so much – exists. I am here because I dreamed about the Sun and summer.

But when I was getting closer to my infinitive aim I saw the snow and Northern Lights. All world so much connected. Each place so unique. Each moment so important. And some may say: - I would like to be there, there is so beautiful. The World is beautiful in itself. Either Tromso, either Brussels, either Bielawa, either Granada, either Tetouan. All of them are beautiful in their only unique sense.

And now I go outside on those obscured little streets where the roofs sink in bright blinding light, where the people hide themselves inside their long monks suits where I stay open and hopefuly ready.


- Parlez vous francais? I wanted to ask anglais but the vision of getting closer to the teacher of pottery was so fascinating that my mind just switched the words. I am in Artisan School. Young boys study handcraft professions. It is warm morning. The clouds still hanged over the mountains are frightening with density. I try to explain to Ali that I want to learn pottery. After few sentences Ali disappeares in unknown direction. I remain with the young scholar. The boy is mixing the clay. Now he can use the hammer and large pieces of material, instead of collecting the little ones as before he was told by the teacher. It provokes the whole process to be done much much more faster. I observe him with curiosity. After he finished he showes me the works of Art Students. By accident he brakes one piece of minor art product. Aware of his did but with sparkles in his eyes he startes to repair two pieces looking from time to time by the doors whether the teacher is not approaching. Few minutes later smile is coming back on his face and he begins to color his drawing. I decide to act. I find Ali and talk francais to him. Finally he understands what I am looking for and he calls his friend Abderkala – my future teacher. We discuss the rules, dinero, managna and I become a scholar.


- Bsaha, Bsaha, Bsaha!!!!!!!! I try to sleep but Nordil is shouting his appreciation of delecting tea. Disadavntage of my room is that I live close to so called ”living room” of the house. Smoking kif and drinking tea are major activities of Nordil daily life.