Gone to Edinburgh

We have left to Edinburgh. It is a round trip of sorts, even as neither of us have ever been there.

Our families are from there; but, they hardly mentioned it to us.

In a sense, we are discovering Scotland as most Americans would be likely to do... as a vague department of the ambiguously and synonymously named UK.

But, that would be insulting to the Edinburgherishianese- who, unfortuantely, do not have the best weather or recent liberation histories; but, who apparently do have the distinction of the sexiest accent in the British Isles.

At any rate, Edinburgh and the people of Scotland can take pride that they have produced some very bright lights in the history of western thought.

So we go there as American shadows of Scotland past. Who knows what we will turn up.

It takes a cartographer and a philosopher to bring us to this point. We were not nearly the broad minded aesthetes nor such capable ambassadors before our honey service year began. Yet, we go their cap in hand, ready to give thanks for our ancestors hard won successes, their confidence, their willingness to travel intellectually and physically and be in new places. It is our final effort at discovering the places we have always known yet never been.

When we get home, I have promised my bride a dinner at the Windsor Court. She, in turn, has offered me a steamy blue weekend in her adopted hometown of Clarksdale, Mississippi.

We still have no technological device from which to edit and post our blogs.

Please stay posted. Our journey together just began.

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Family Heirlooms

Our friend is a kind man; a generous man. When we are out in the souks, struggling to keep pace with his long brown legs, I rarely understand the words that float into heavy airless stalls, nestle among great stacks of weighty carpets, or reverberate in spaces filled with brass and copper. But I understand the smiles and friendship and the joy felt by his friends and acquaintances that we pass. El Sharif is a respected man, a man to be admired. He has held the American Dream in the palm of his hand and seen his own face reflected in its glossy sheen.

And yet, his heart is Moroccan. He is concerned with cultural preservation and traditional art forms. He performs as an ambassador for those who have the privilege of spending time with him, sharing his intimate knowledge of Mococco’s rich culture and history. He actually appears to enjoy having the silly Americans tag along, and our appreciation seems to be sufficient reciprocation.

His model of generosity is one to emulate. Along with cash offerings to those we encounter, El Sharif also passes out smiles and jokes and laughter and intimate banter to those we pass. The impact of these heartfelt interactions is tangible; the dark stalls brighten with beaming grins and conversation. His ability to reach out and connect with those around him, as he winds through the dense markets is a language he has been practicing since he was a child, spending time in the carpet markets with his father. It's a family tradition, like so many that we encounter in this part of the world. 

Knowledge and networks are family heirlooms here in Morocco, with the same imperfections and sentimental values that we associate with our antique armoires and family jewelry. They are cherished and honored and passed down through generations, collecting dust and stories and worn edges.

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