Yesterday as we walked the souks deciding where to dine, these varying rooflines of a courtyard caught my eye.

I’ve been awake since 5:00 am after Mr. Rooster began his crowing for the day which continues until sundown.  Without the option of puttering around the kitchen, I stay in bed, reading my mindless but entertaining activities on my phone.

At 7:00 am, Tom started laughing in his sleep.  Who laughs aloud in their sleep?  Only Tom, my personal Good Humor Man.  Quietly, I whisper, “What’s so funny?”

Through more fits of laughter, he mutters in a groggy voice “I was sleeping and laughing?”  We both laughed.  He proceeds to tell me about his funny dream, about his former job of 42 years on the railroad and the laughing that was a part of his everyday. 


We’re curious what lies behind the many doors in the Medina.  Are tourists occupying this riad or locals?

As we lay there, in idle chatter, the call to prayer and the rooster’s crow wafts through the air simultaneously and we laugh some more. 

As the high from the laughter runs through me, rampant thoughts run through my mind as I finally get up ready to start my day, Tom following behind.  I ask myself, “What am we doing in Morocco?  Why are we so comfortable being nomads traveling from country to country?  Why does it not bother either of us that we haven’t seen a doctor or a dentist in almost over 16 months with nary a concern or worry?”

The answer is not simple.  It doesn’t necessarily go back to the days when we decided to embark on this year’s long journey as we acquired a newly discovered adventuresome streak perhaps meant to defray our fears of aging and becoming complacent.


There are endless styles of roof lines throughout the Medina.

Our reasons have evolved from a desire to “step outside the box” to those more meaningful in our minds; a profound desire to challenge ourselves, to experience life on our terms, and to feel “free.” 

In reality, don’t we all spend the better part of our lives performing tasks and conforming to a strict code of expectation with the ultimate intent of providing ourselves with comfort, security and a sense of well being?  Our lives are no different.


This kitten was tiny, no more than 60 days old, on its own to search for food and shelter.

The thought of avoiding the responsibility of placing the green trash can in the correct spot in the driveway each week to comply with yet another “rule” motivated us. Avoiding the necessity of blowing the snow to clear the driveway late at night after a long workday motivated us.  The avoidance of weekends and vacation days spent at Home Depot with yet another project in mind, motivated us.  For us, there was no joy in these tasks.

But, there was joy in the laughter, the companionship, the sense of exploration, the discoveries in new surroundings, the meeting new people, the learning and the stimulating our brains in a way that we’d dismissed long ago as mainly for the young. 


After hundreds of years of wear and tear, the stones crumble in certain areas, leaving an open spot for trash,  Overall, the souks are very clean.

Our bodies continue to age as an inevitable aspect to life itself as we occasionally grumble to one another about a newly discovered wrinkle or dark spot that magically appeared overnight.  But, our brains bespeak the delights of the young, full of wonder, excitement and adventure, none of which we foolishly embarked upon placing our aging bodies at risk, ensuring that we may be able to continue on.

It’s ironic that both of us were in the same state of mind to be primed for this life we live and yet, we’d never once discussed “traveling the world” in our old lives.  It only became a mutual “dream” the day we decided to do it. 

The consistent shades of pink and orange are seen throughout the Medina and souks.

At times its not easy but then again, we never expected easy. In an odd way we feel that we’ve only just begun, as we dream and plan into the future with the excitement and enthusiasm of a child on their way to Disneyland. 

“Home is where the heart is.”  Corny?  Sure.  But its true.  For now and for three more weeks from today, our home is in Morocco and our hearts…are firmly in place.

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Photo from one year ago today, April 24, 2013:

Little did we know as we stood on our veranda, the degree of the impending storm we were about to enter as we crossed the Atlantic Ocean.  For details of the story on this date, please click here.

We spotted five stray cats hanging around this motorbike. The lanterns were for sale.

Our last Easter in Minnesota was in 2012. In a way, it feels as if it was many more than two years ago and in other ways, only yesterday. 

As we post here each day, we purposely don’t discuss intimate details of our lives with our children and grandchildren in an effort to respect their privacy. Not doing so, in no way diminishes the love we feel for each and every one of our four adult children, their significant others, and our six grandchildren.

Many have asked, “How could you leave your family?” It wasn’t easy.  

Stray cats seem to be comfortable around all the crowds and activities in the souk.

It was a decision wrought with a modicum of guilt, apprehension, and fear. How could it not be? Guilt for leaving them and apprehension and fear that they’d be angry at us for going away, so far away, unreachable at times.  We understood that as we took this risk.

Tom and I, a blended family, both had children as teenagers. Our lives were not unlike the lives of other parents with grown children and grandchildren, filled with dreams and expectations on all sides, some fulfilled, some perhaps unrealistic.

I retired from my business in December of 2011. All of my life I’d dreamed of writing when I retired. With little fodder for writing, I allowed imaginary characters to run through my mind in hopes of someday writing a work of fiction. 

This cat was black and grown, an interesting combination for a non-calico.

My life of retirement allowed little noteworthy action for a story with our lives so like the comfortable lives of many retirees worldwide. Who’d want to read about our medical appointments, dinners for family and friends, and occasional trips to Costco?

In January 2012, as the New Year began, one morning, Tom broached a topic we’d avoided with his retirement date looming on October 31, 2012, “What do you want to do when I retire?”

I looked at him, as we both sat in our comfy chairs in the family room asking, “What do you want to do?” our typical response to such a question, asking the other the same question. How familiar, eh?

He thought for a moment turning to me and said, “Why don’t we travel the world?” I was shocked. I never imagined this from him. 

My response was simple and expected, “Let me do some research, do a spreadsheet, and see if it’s possible. I’ll have it ready in one week.”

And, I did. And one week later, we decided. On October 31, 2012, ten months later, we left our loved ones with heavy hearts, after selling and disposing of everything we owned, we left Minnesota. Leaving our head-scratching family behind, wondering how long it would be before we gave up and settle down, we left with a sense of excitement and adventure.

Sure, leaving them was hard and angst-ridden. And today, always a special holiday for all of us, we are reminded of how much we’re missing them and will continue to miss daily well into the future.

This black and white cat reminded me of a cat we had when my kids were young that had extra toes on all four feet, an anomaly seen in cats from time to time.

But, somehow, the missing them is a part of our lives that we embrace and accept. My oldest son lived away as an adult and has always been missed. This is not uncommon in today’s world. Many of our retired friends moved to warmer climates away from frosty Minnesota, leaving the family in their wake, to call, to Skype, to write.

Here we are, 18 months later, and feeling we have so much world left to see. The excitement coupled with the knowledge we’ve acquired through experience as we learn more each day has only spurred us on, to continue on.

The fodder? Ah, it’s grand! Although at times, our days are quiet and mundane as over this busy holiday weekend, too crowded in the souks to even venture out, we stay in our comfy riad with our delightful staff eager to make us one more appreciated meal which we’ll savor with gusto. 

No, there won’t be a baked spiral sliced ham, green bean casserole, cheesy potatoes, fruit whippy, fluffy biscuits, and bunny rabbit cake for dessert. Instead, we’ll have plates and plates of vegetables, beef tagine (minus hot spices) with chips (fries), and local bread for Tom. 

We’ll sit at the romantically lit dining room table served by three of the finest household staff in the land, grateful to our family for their acceptance of us living our dream, grateful for each other, grateful for our continuing health, and grateful that we had the courage to step outside the box to experience the “fodder” that makes writing here each day a rare gift indeed.
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Photo from one year ago today, April 20, 2013:

Here is the inside of our cabin on the Norwegian Epic one year ago. This cruise was the beginning of one of the most harrowing and exciting experiences in our lives when this mammoth top-heavy ship was caught in an outrageous storm at sea with 50 foot, 15.3-meter swells lasting non-stop for a full three days and nights. We almost had the ship to ourselves when neither of us was sick while many passengers and crew stayed in their cabins. We wrote here, we dined, we walked around the ship, although not allowed outdoors. More will follow on this storm in the next few days, perhaps with a video depicting the adventure. For details of the day, we boarded the Epic which was several days before the storm, please click here.

Another Kasbah as we drove through the High Atlas Mountains.

It’s Sunday morning. The WiFi signal is so poor that I had to write today’s post on a Word document, later requiring me to retype every word since the poor signal wouldn’t allow me to upload it directly to Blogger.com.  I tried more than 10 times, each time receiving a message that the signal is too weak.

In this little village, many stops contain various products with the scent of roses.

Also, I don’t like this computer, an HP, that I purchased in South Africa under duress when I dropped and broke my wonderful Acer. I miss it if one can miss a computer. The keyboard uses punctuation from other languages requiring extra typing to correct it.

What that a riad at the top of this hill?

Besides, the letter “i” is still not working properly nor do most of the other keys requiring me to press the keys extra hard. Need I say that this is more than annoying?

More villages off the road to the High Atlas Mountains.

May I whine more, please?

I miss drinking coffee. The only means of making coffee is using the hand-operated French press Tom has mastered. However, the coffee here is just too strong for my liking, even when he uses less. I’ve switched to Lipton tea bags which I don’t like when Earl Gray or plain black tea is unavailable in the grocery stores. I don’t care for flavored teas.

Every area had a nearby mosque as shown in the lower right in this photo. Most homes have electricity and the Internet which we hadn’t expected.

I miss our coleslaw. It was a staple we included at all of our home-cooked dinners. Surely, Madame Zahra would make it for us, except for the fact that I can no longer chance eating raw vegetables in Morocco. I’ve given up all raw vegetables including salads. I miss salads. I don’t want to get sick again.

The winding road.

This riad is wonderful, as is the staff. We have no complaints, only praise for it and for them. The souk, although crowded most days, is full of life and energy. But going through there almost every day becomes redundant, especially when guarding oneself against the fast-moving motorbikes, swerving in and out.

The views of the villages situated at the base of the mountains created beautiful scenery.

The shoving and the pushing of the often frenzied tourists in the souk, desperate for the next big bargain, has worn thin. No wonder the locals appear annoyed and aloof. They too must have become tired of the crowds.

At some points, the mountain rocks were less colorful than others.

We understand why the vendors bark out to us to come and see their wares. We have to force ourselves not to look, not to smile, to avoid eliciting a response. I’d love to offer a friendly “bonjour” (good day) but doing so always seems to indicate that we may have an interest in making a purchase.

The sky changed frequently during the seven-hour return drive.

Oh, that we could be among the local people in a less sales orientated environment reveling in their companionship and conversation. They are lovely people from whom we could learn much. We see this from the four-person staff of Dar Aicha, genuine warmth and kindness, far beyond their duties.

The roads and signage were more modern than we’d expected.

It’s not that I miss the US. Of course, we miss family and friends. The pace, the place, the traffic, the cost of living, not so much.

Much of the greenery was from olive trees with olives as an accompaniment to many meals.

I won’t get into the fact that I miss nature and wildlife. Everyone who reads here is aware of that fact. I cling to the birds flying into the riad through the open courtyard, my Mother Nature companions, always available for a nature fix to some extent.

Does anyone know what this means?  Please post a comment, if you do.

Now, we count the days until we leave for Madeira, Portugal. Today at 32. Grocery stores, food shopping, cooking our favorite meals with leftovers for the next day if we’d like, a better WiFi signal, restaurants with offerings befitting both of us. And then, there’s the perpetual view of the ocean from every window. We’d already seen the house in Madeira when our ship docked at the port in Funchal in April 2013. We loved it.

The river was not as deep as it may have been a month ago with the snow melting at the mountain peaks.

Although it may sound as if I’m unhappy here, I’m not unhappy. There are enough good things to avoid any real angst. Tom and I laugh, having fun every day. I’m finally beating him at Gin, for the first time in four countries.  He beat me in Italy where we first starting keeping a countrywide tally, again in Kenya and then in South Africa.  If my luck continues over the next 31 days, (we leave on the 32nd day) I may win Morocco.

The interior of the small hotel on the river. Although not for us, with the barest of amenities, it was clean and suitable for backpackers and those seeking a hostel type environment.

Happiness is a choice. I choose it. Occasionally angst creeps in for minutes but never for an hour or a day. It wafts away when we laugh, we talk and we plan for the future.

The river view from the veranda at the hotel.

We have our health. We have each other. We’re staying true to our budget. We have this wonderful house and it’s amazing people with us each day. We have much to anticipate, today, tomorrow, as we head out to further explore, holding hands, feeling comforted and safe at each other’s side.

The river view from the window in our hotel room.

We’ve learned a lot here in Marrakech. We’ve learned more about how we’ll respond in certain environments.  With much world left to see, we’re excited to plan our future travels, now more well-armed than ever with the knowledge that the busy city is not for us for longer than a few weeks.

With the upcoming two weeks each in Paris and London, three days in Boston, six days in Vancouver, British Columbia, 11 days in Waikiki, Hawaii, we’ll have all the big city experiences we’ll need for awhile. From there, the peace, serenity, and nature are at our fingertips in our upcoming plans well into the future, as we figure out where in the world we like to live next. We’ll keep you posted.

A map of our location on the wall in the hotel’s veranda.  The hotel was located at the far-right.

Health providing, we’ll continue on, only until we can’t do it anymore. Stumbles along the way? Sure. We accept that. Will we love everywhere we go? Most likely, not. We never expected to love everywhere we’ll live.

The challenge of discovery drives us with the hope and expectation (oh, foolish me!) that we’ll be happy and comfortable more times than not, just like the rest of us who have good days and bad, wherever we may live.   That’s life, isn’t it?
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Photo from one year ago today, April 13, 2013:

Tom eating frog legs which he surprisingly enjoyed for the first time. We were on the Carnival Liberty when we arrived in Miami where we were booked for another cruise on the same ship, referred to as a “back to back.” We didn’t love Carnival cruises as much as other cruises but the food was especially good.  For details of the post from that date, please click here.