When we left for Morocco, other than having watched travel videos and the "Casablanca" movie as part of our preparation, I had no idea how this country would enter my heart and stay there. Well, considering my personality and addictions, a few hours after our arrival, I became overwhelmingly in love with their scenery. Why? Almost everywhere/every place was filled with rocks. The first "rock" photo I took was next to the Casablanca mosque, the Atlantic ocean covering them with waves when the tides rose.
After the Palm Sunday event several days later, we were taken to a Berber Village in the Atlas Mountains. We had a very interesting and lovely time in the "motel" connected to a very sweet and special family. The next day, a Tour du Maroc bike racing event took place a few miles way at Imintanout and we were taken there. It was a lot of fun. Would never have expected something like that. So, here are a few photos:
Then life changed -- Again! We were given a picnic some distance from the house. In fact, several miles. We rode in a Land Rover, then walked through a village, wandered around and about, and...
we arrived at a river shore. A donkey was already there and had been the delivery vehicle for our food.
The river was non-watery. And that's how, in my head, I began grabbing my souvenirs for my prayer group.
You see, I wanted to give them something special, something about Morocco that they could never break, lose, or misplace. I also didn't want them to wonder where it came from, so I knew a rock could be referred to as a "Mo-rock-o". And hoped they would grin a bit.
That lacking-water-river was near the housing area in the village, so I didn't have to grab all of them and drag them away after the picnic. But the plan was planted in my head and heart.
The next day, before we were leaving, I was able to finish collecting the rocks and, since we had given most of our clothes to the village ladies [something I always do when going to a different country], my duffle bag had plenty of space. I had about 30 rocks the size of my hand, and wrapped them in any of the clothes, towels, etc., that I still had. The rocks were colorful and textured and layered and lovely. [ And I brought a couple just for myself. How could I have not done that???.]
Anyhow, that's my story about Mo-rock-o. Hope you chuckle a bit.... And, BTW, I chuckle, too... always grinning when walking through my yard, and enjoying my national and international souvenirs.
