Marrakech, Morocco

I'm still struggling to find the right words to describe Marrakech. It's, by far, the most foreign place DK and I have visited, both in the fun, exotic, the-world-is-so-big sense and in the otherworldly, where-am-I-and-how-did-I-get here sense.

We both miss it. Five days was pitifully short. Sigh. Next time.

And voila, my visual proof:



I somehow made it out of Morocco only buying two pairs of embroidered slippers, a tagine, some hand-blown drinking glasses, some fancy soap, a bag of dried hibiscus, a little bottle of argan oil, three geodes, and my glorious sequined wedding throw.

...Okay, I know that sounds like a lot, but seriously, that's not even one single airline carry-on's worth of stuff. I get a little mournful when I think about all the blankets and rugs and lanterns and ceramics and candles and spices I left behind.

Again: Sigh. Next time.