feelin' it

With a warm sun, cool breeze, and more ravens than I could ever imagine, I was in heaven. So much so, that I jokingly asked Pedro to snap what we call a feelin' it photo— those cheesy shots of boho adventurers that are supposed to be inspirational and spontaneous but are totally staged. Recently we were scrolling through some photos on Instagram of very stylish travellers, each of whom had at least one shot of them posing with their arms outstretched, walking towards something exotic. I found it so phoney, so silly, but it had me thinking about the way we present ourselves and want to be seen to the world behind screens.

If you are a long-time reader, you surely have noticed the sharp decline in the frequency of my posting and sharing of sketches. I've spent a lot of time in the past year wondering why I keep this blog, and when I moved to Morocco I felt little desire to continue sharing my life online. I was having a difficult time adjusting to my new life, and really didn't have much to say about it. It's hard to pack up and leave somewhere you love, even if you feel that that place no longer exists. Turkey has changed so much under its current government, I scarcely recognise it.

So while I was feeling lost at sea and to be honest, a bit heartbroken over leaving Istanbul, it felt odd posting pretty pictures; I couldn't pretend I was having a great time when I wasn't. That's not to say that I haven't been happy here in Rabat, but these past nine months have been a rollercoaster— and I've had motion sickness. The little trips Pedro and I have taken to Essaouira, Larache, Meknès, and now the Ifrane area, have done much to lift my spirits, and I feel I am on the mend. Truly, there is nothing like a bit of exploring to get the heart back on rhythm.

Although we took this photo in mockery, I actually kind of like it. The moment was light—the air smelled of cedar and earth, and we were laughing.

cedar roses and dung beetles

Little pockets of sunlight illuminated mushrooms peeking through the dark forest floor, flowers glowed in their spotlight, and elegant cedar roses appeared to bloom beneath their trees. I began to collect the rosettes, sniffing them in hopes of catching some scent— and there was— an ever so slight smell of pine sap. We hiked on to the sound of raven calls, the beating of their glossy black wings. In a clearing I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, on the earth beneath my feet. Two formidable dung beetles were battling it out over a perfectly egg-shaped ball of dung. I watched them for a while, rolling over each other, the grooves on their backs rusty with dust.

the barbary ape

These elegant fellows are the only species of macaque found outside Asia, in the Atlas and Rif Mountain ranges of Morocco and Algeria. They are the same species that were introduced to Gibraltar, and interestingly, they are matriarchal— something I learned after noticing that several of the adults who were holding babies were male. Apparently the males are selected by the females for their ability to care for the young, which they raise collectively.



I'm generally not a fan of monkeys— creepy experiences with them in Nepal have left me suspicious, but these ones were so pretty and had no interest in us. Expecting that a threatened species might be hard to see on our own, we stopped by the Cèdre Gouraud Forest, were a troupe had grown accustomed to loud, selfie-snapping tourists flinging peanuts at them. It was a bit sad, but at least they seemed to be in good health...

Later, while driving down a winding forest road near Kharzouza, we caught a flash of gold crossing the road— twenty or thirty macaques! There they were, minding their own business, picking through the leaves and soil while giving us a lazy side-eye. We stopped for a while to photograph them from the car, not wanting to disturb them.



Look at how shiny and lush this guy's fur is! It looks so soft...