Gallery in the Sky: MB6 Street Art in Marrakesh

Gallery in the Sky: MB6 Street Art in Marrakesh

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My favorite mural by Dotmaster of the MB6 :Street Art exhibit representing to me roses in the desert, something I’m thankful everyday in Marrakech, and the power of art to create community and love. Photo by Cindy McCain

Some use walls to keep people out. Others use them to invite people in.

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The Dotmaster started painting on the streets of Brighton in the early 90s. His work has since been featured in Oscar nominated Exit Through the Gift Shop and in Martin Scorsese’s Tomorrow. Photo by Ian Cox
Dotmasters working on his mural MB6 Street Art photo ©_Ian_Cox_2016 (1)
Work in progress Photo by Ian Cox

 

“Inclusion rather than exclusion is the driving force behind the festival,” says MB6: Street Art Curator Vestalia Chilton of ATTOLLO.  Responsible for a myriad of murals in the medina created for the Marrakesh Biennale Edition 6, Chilton said the global collaboration began at the Marrakech TED Talks a year ago.  There she asked Vanessa Branson, founder of the Marrakech Biennale in 2004,  if she’d be interested in adding street art to the event ranked in the top 20 Biennales worldwide.  The answer was yes, launching another first for Morocco.

Already a big year for the country, 2016 began with Morocco opening the world’s largest solar farm in the Sahara, and in Essaouira, unveiling North Africa’s largest mural (6400 square meters) painted by Italian street artist, Giacomo Bufarini aka RUN.

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RUN’s Essaouira mural, largest in Africa, illustrates two people on opposite sides of the stream–one playing music, which the city is known for, and the other listening.  Courtesy of Vestalia Chilton

The 6th edition Marrakech Biennale–Not New Now– running until May 8 with free admission  celebrates the city’s artistic and cultural leadership in building bridges between the Islamic world, the Pan-African diaspora and the West.   The event is overseen by Reem Fada, Curator for the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi, who believes the multi-disciplinarian approach connects local and international audiences to “new ideas and artistic visions from Morocco and abroad.”

 On display for MB6: Street Art in the Marrkaech Medina, the “Galery in the Sky,” are murals by Mad C (Germany), Dotmaster (UK), Giacomo RUN (Italy), Dag Insky (France), Kalamour (Morocco), Alexey Luka (Russia), LX.ONE (France), Lucy McLauchlan (UK), Remi Rough (UK), Sickboy (UK) and Yesbee (UK).

On a press tour led by Vestalia and a lunch interview at Kosybar following (video below), I saw the gifts left to the city and learned more about the genre.

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Creative contrast Photo by Cindy McCain

A study in contrasts, the works convey not only innovation and change but also universal, timeless values.  They juxtapose human diversity with commonalities.

“Street art has no ego. If people like it, it stays. If not, if goes. One mural is already gone,”Chilton explained.

Once  graffiti artists on the run, painting where they weren’t allowed, this new generation of contemporary urban artists are critically acclaimed agents of restoration rather than rebels.  The independent spirit and creativity of the underground scene which produced works accessible to the general public in urban environments has risen to become the biggest art movement since Impressionism.

Alexey Luka MB6 Street Art photo ©_Ian_Cox_2016

The work of Alexey Luka, progressive Russian artist, can be enjoyed in the square of Café des Epices. His work have been exhibited in Moscow, Saint Petersburg, Amsterdam, Lyon, Paris, Portland, Rotterdam, and San Francisco, and Rome. Alexey is a member of the creative association ‘Artmossphere’ which organized the 1st Moscow Biennale of Street Art in 2014, supporting Russian street artists and graffiti writers. Photo by Ian Cox

Worldwide acceptance has led to commissioned  public works and inclusion in high profile galleries and art festivals.    Mainstream culture and media has created demand for the sale of  originals and multiples, which allowed street artists to break into the art world with access to galleries, museums and auction houses such as Christies and Sotheby’s.

Morocco’s Renaissance Man and the Biennale’s Native Son, Kalamour, has been passionate since childhood about drawing, photography, painting, and music. His paintings and sculptures have been exhibited in Canada and his home country. Also an award-winning video artist, Kalamour’s releases have been featured at festivals in Morocco and Portugal.

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Kalamour at work Photo by Ian Cox
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Kalamour’s work on Cafe de Epices Photo by Cindy McCain
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Gallery work by Kalamour Photo by Cindy McCain

British born artist Lucy McLauchlan (below) has work in galleries and museums and on multi-story buildings throughout Europe, gigantic billboards in China, on walls outside Moscow’s Red Square, and on New York subway tunnels. She deeply respects nature and uses etches of leaves and other elements of her environment in her paintings.

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Lucy McLauchan Medina Mural Photo by Ian Cox
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Lucy McLauchan originals Photo by Cindy McCain

 

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Mad C Photo by Cindy McCain

Just outside the gate of Dar El Bacha is the work of the most famous participant in the project, MadC. Despite being booked five years out, Claudia Walde enthusiastically joined the Marrakesh project and created a fan frenzy on social media. Her mural was created with seventy cans of colors. Born in Bautzen, GDR and currently based in Germany, she holds degrees in Graphic Design from the University of Art and Design, Halle, and Central Saint Martins College, London. Her two books on sticker art and street fonts published in 2007 and 2011 are praised for their anthropological insight into the graffiti art movement. Her name, derived from her childhood nickname, “Crazy Claudia” encourages all to live their creative dreams.

Giacomo Bufarini RUN working on hi mural MB6 Street Art photo ©_Ian_Cox_2016
Giacomo Bufarini, RUN Photo by Ian Cox

 RUN, Italian-born Giacomo Bufarini, is a beloved muralist of international street art. His Marrakesh mural is outside Palace Bahia. A lover of travel, the London resident’s epic-sized murals distinguished by detail and complexity, colorful faces and interlocking hands, stretch from here to China and attest to his playfulness and commitment to communication. His characters speak languages of diverse audiences, and while painting in Essaouira and Marrakesh, the artist impressed Moroccans with his willingness to take time for friendly chats. His measure of success? He says if a child likes his work, he is happy.

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Photo by Ian Cox
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RUN Photo by Cindy McCain
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Another Favorite by RUN Photo by Cindy McCain
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Photo by Cindy McCain

One of the most dramatic moments of the tour was turning a corner off frenetic Mohammed V into an alley car park and seeing the works of LX.ONE and Remi Rough canopied above.

LX.one working on his mural MB6 Street Art photo ©_Ian_Cox_2016.
Photo by Ian Cox
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Mural by Surrealist Sickboy Photo by Cindy McCain

 In one week eleven painters completed the MB6 Street Art exhibition, but their contribution to the city and the world that enjoys it will be appreciated long after.  Below Vestalia, joined by a member of her team, Elena Ivanova,  speaks warmly of Moroccan hospitality, kindness, and the human spirit inherent in this city and this global collaboration.

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Map of MB6 Street Art

 

 

 

 

Spanish Steps Offers Camino Tours and Beyond

Spanish Steps Offers Camino Tours and Beyond

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Photo by SpanishSteps.com

When in doubt, just take the next small step.

–Paulo Coelho, The Pilgrimage

Whether wanting to explore Spain (and other countries’ roads that lead there), pursue a personal dream, ponder in peace, practice wellness through hiking or yoga, learn language, hear stories from travelers around the world, Spanish Steps leads the way in offering options.  I fell in love with Spain last year, and experiencing that gorgeous country with Spanish Steps is now high on my Bucket List.

After hiking with Mònica Fernàndez, a talented Spanish and English teacher, through her native region of Galicia, in Southern Spain, and in the Sahara, I am excited to learn she will co-lead tours below with other dedicated members of Owner Judy Colaneri’s  Spanish Steps staff including co-guiding with her husband, Alessandro Martinez,  October 12-19.

All Camino tour dates in Spain, France, and Italy can be found here. Tours fill up fast so if interested take the step that leads to more here.

May 12-19, September 4-11, October 12-19 Camino 100

May 29-June 5 Camino Portuguese

June 6-12 Camino Finisterre 

June 25-July 2 Walk & Talk at Fuentes de Lucía

 

 

 

 

 

Dream Riad in Marrakech for Weddings, Writing, Wellness

Dream Riad in Marrakech for Weddings, Writing, Wellness

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Making a grand entrance must have originated in Marrakech. Crossing that first threshold from the manic Medina into a roofless riad respite– blue skies or stars above—is a moment no one ever forgets. I am still thrilled every time I follow surreptitious streets snaking through the medieval city… duck archways and dodge motorbikes, donkey carts, and darting cats… then knock on a heavy wooden door that slowly swings open into a secret, peaceful place.

But for me, entering the world of Riad Emberiza Sahari was epic.

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One of those surreal experiences when so much of what my heart loves to see, hear, taste, and touch materialized like magic. Here classic French Elegance, Hollywood’s Golden Age Glamour, and Desert Dreams meet…a rhapsody in blue.

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Welcomed warmly by owner Alexandra Richards, I could hear past the streaming foyer fountain Mancini crooning “Moon River” to a chirping courtyard chorus. Named for the Emberiza family of birds indigenous to South Morocco and considered sacred in Marrakesh, the boutique hotel that took two years to renovate was guarded by these feathered friends. They had comforted Alexandra who moved from Melbourne and found the process, like other expats building a new home in a foreign country, fraught with frustrations. A Barrister of Queen’s Counsel, the highest appointment and level of professional recognition in Australia, the Human and Civil Rights attorney is, no surprise, a strong, smart Leading Lady of her new life. But she is also a woman of beauty, style, wit and grace and reminds me of Big Screen legends like Lauren Bacall and Faye Dunaway.

When I asked what moving to Morocco taught her, she replied:

“One thing I have learned here is to ‘never say never and never say always.’ I believe Talleyrand said this of politics and war. I would say it of everything here.”

 

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To a musical mix of Moroccan, French, and Frank (Sinatra), I wandered the riad as slowly as the turtles who live there, delighting in the details—gorgeous artwork, antiques, bedding, and baths. As I climbed the stairs to tiered terraces, then the rooftop, I could imagine Truman Capote working or Holly Golightly playing here. Riad Emberiza Sahari is a venue for artists’ retreats, weddings and social gatherings, solo or romantic escapes, and the ultimate girls’ getaway. Offerings include excursions, cooking classes, massages, yoga, or meditation.

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Alexandra and Kate, a friend who lived near her in Melbourne though they never met until each moved to Marrakech.

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As darkness descended the riad became even more magical–the pool and fountains dancing, flickering,  reflecting lights and candle flames to classical music.  We talked at table under orange and lime trees about our love for our children and for this strange, irresistible city.

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I would return months later for Kate’s birthday and always look forward to seeing Alexandra. She inspires me as a woman of reinvention, as one who followed her dream and created an oasis where others can rediscover theirs.   Riad Emberiza Sahari is the manifestation of who she is and what is right with the world– a dramatically beautiful, comfortable, and peaceful place.

Alexandra: “I agree with Winston Churchill that ‘Marrakech is the most beautiful place in the world.’ But a place of great beauty AND great ugliness, a place of contrasts and contradictions. Therefore it never lets you alone and you always know you are alive.”

 

 

Amazing Animal Sanctuary outside Marrakesh

Amazing Animal Sanctuary outside Marrakesh

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Since meeting Charles Hantom and Susan Machin, Directors and Founders of Jarjeer Mules, last year at Café du Livre, I have wanted to see their sanctuary– a retirement home and nursery for aged, abandoned, and disabled equines and a learning center for visitors of all ages.  See their story below of how stray dogs changed their mission from building a guest house to sheltering and rehabilitating donkeys and mules.

With a history of helping people–Charles, a retired solicitor honored by the Community Trade Union for his service to iron and steel workers and Susan, a practicing barrister, representing vulnerable adults in the UK– they now rescue animals, sharing the love by teaching empathy to children who ride the older donkeys and providing adults opportunities to be involved from near or far.

My coworker Fiona organized a van for us to travel 24 kilometers out of Marrakech toward the Atlas Mountains–a gorgeous ride.  When we arrived, ten dogs, barking and tales wagging, met us at the gate. Inside twenty donkeys and four mules were having breakfast.  Curious to see what we brought them for dessert, they nuzzled in to eat carrots, apples, and sugar cubes.

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Above is Jerry who arrived as a tiny orphan, was attacked by a dog, but with extensive surgery and constant care survived and now thrives.  Read his story and that of Alan, Sally, Tommy and the the whole herd here.

Before the ride back, we enjoyed mint tea and biscuits from a peaceful, pretty patio as puppies rolled in the grass.  I have always loved the country–as a kid in Kentucky visiting family on weekends and as a newlywed living on a thoroughbred farm.  I was out of practice and more skittish than the mules for fear of being kicked, but I’m really glad I went.  Yet another reason to love Morocco.

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January in Marrakesh

January in Marrakesh

 

“If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”
–Percy Bysshe Shelley

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It’s January, and my Facebook feed is a flurry.  A snowstorm has hit the US–including my home in the south– leaving all covered in white.  Here temps have been in the 70s and climbed to the 80s this weekend.  The Atlas Mountains that were covered in snow all last winter are bare.  But on the rooftop of The Pearl, aptly named, all is winter white.   At the perfect place for lunch and a panoramic view, roses, bougainvillea, and snowball bushes bloom.

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Namazake, the Japanese restaurant on the top floor, serves on the terrace.

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I had been here once before with my friend, Synnove, who chose the rooftop for dinner last spring. The sushi is delicious, but in this beautiful hotel just having a drink provides a feast for the eyes.

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Today was a good day.  On the walk home, Kate pulled me into Dino for a treat.  We may not have snow, but we have ice cream.

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IMG_0595IMG_0597IMG_0581Happy January!

Singing in the Dark

Singing in the Dark

Six months after Whitney Houston’s death, the movie, Sparkle, a twelve-year project she co-produced, was released. It was a remake of a movie she fell in love with as a teen. The movie she’d hoped would be her comeback was her swan song. The girl who began in gospel, who struggled, who died…a woman loved by many…  reminds me here that when I spin in dread, doubt, or desperation, too disoriented in the dark of uncertainty to look up, God, thank God, is always looking down.

Apparently not only March can come in as a lion.  December and January have, for me, roared. Fraught with some of the hardest decisions I’ve been faced with in years, one I knew was coming, one I did not,  I’ve felt terrorized at times.  Sad others.  Confused most.  And yet the last two days I awoke singing this:

I sing because I’m happy,

I sing because I’m free.

His eye is on the sparrow,

And I know He watches me.

Maybe it’s because yesterday, like every Saturday morning in Morocco, I opened my eyes to blue skies and birds on my balcony. Here it’s already spring. Tiny finches with nest-building bits in their beaks—a piece of string, a snip of vine—are busy. Yet they perch and sing, rest and rejoice.

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Today I awoke early again before sunrise. Focused on the future, I didn’t get enough sleep last night. As on the fifth day after I moved here, happy until circumstances threatened my peace, I climbed the stairs to the rooftop. Sixteen months ago as I watched the sunset my sense of safety, of protection was restored. Today as I watched the sunrise, I felt the same way, and I knew clarity will eventually dawn.   I must dwell in patience.  In faith.  I needed to look up as far as I could see, knowing I am seen.

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When I came down, I watched as I did yesterday two women sing, Ethel Waters and Whitney Houston. Again they made me cry with comfort, hope, peace.

When I was in high school our early church service and teen band needed an organist. I volunteered. I’d never played the organ—only the piano—badly, but I have always been curious, loved challenges, and taken literally the verse that says with enough faith, mountains can be moved. My grandmother and I, like Jay Gatsby, were born with “a romantic readiness” –a stubborn belief that faith makes all things possible. So with the same tenacity with which I tried out for my high school dance team despite wearing a brace for scoliosis (yes, like the one Lisa Kudrow wore in Romy and Michel’s Class Reunion which got all the laughs), I took up the organ. (And I made the team though I now half-cringe, half- marvel at the girl busting moves for an entire year in such a contraption. Thank you, classmates, for never making fun of me.)

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The first piece I learned for my organ debut was “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” It was chosen by my piano teacher, my Aunt Artie, who had long ago given up on my practicing scales and gave me a crash course in chords. The words to that song, carried on the wings of a homing pigeon, reached me in Africa this weekend.  They call me to new adventures…at home.

Psychologists say we change every seven years–that seasons of growth are the natural order. Seven years ago I started this blog and called it “Cindy McCain’s Rich Life”–first as a reference to being confused with the millionaire Heinz Heiress and almost- First Lady which landed me on MTV Canada–second, and more importantly, because I did and do believe Life is Rich.   How did I feel rich then?  In gratitude I counted the ways…

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  1. Abundantly blessed with family, friends, faith
  2. Abundantly blessed with hopeful romanticism and full moons from Italy to Tennessee
  3. Sumptuous...Dolce Vita
  4. Highly seasoned or very sweet, full-bodied…chicken tikka masala, tres leches cake, chocolate, Malbec, limoncello
  5.  Mellow or vibrant tone…Sinatra, salsa
  6. Warm and strong color… Irish beef stew, sangria
  7. Highly amusing, entertaining, unexpected… most days

Life was rich then and now.  Since moving to Morocco–a milestone in letting go and letting God take me to places inwardly and outwardly more incredible than I ever imagined–I’ve focused mainly on travel on this blog.  Still, my main purpose for writing was and is to express gratitude for and find joy in this journey we call life.

Much has changed since January, 2009.  Much hasn’t.  Sometimes I’m full of faith–fearless.  Others I look too far ahead and am thus afflicted (as Southerners used to say) with the paralysis of analysis.  Though most of my time on this continent has been full of sunshine, illumination, light and learning, over the last month I’ve felt at times where I was seven years ago (and seven years before that) when in the belly of Mammoth Cave. Again I have just enough light to see the next step.  Sometimes I panic, let go, and grope the wall though I’ve never  really felt alone.  I know change is coming  and though I have no map and can’t see what’s ahead  when I fly home this summer–where I will work, where I will nest–  I know my Guide is watching me.

Seven Secrets about Life Venice Shared

Seven Secrets about Life Venice Shared

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And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never been.–Rainer Maria Rilke

I preferred one waltz with a beauty to a lifetime with someone less rare.–Marlena de Blasi, author of A Thousand Days in Venice: An Unexpected Romance

I wondered if I’d feel the same after seven years, Venice. Were the times proof that you are my first love or just flings? And there have been so many others. Like Casanova, you have had throngs of lovers; for me, your rival was only St. Petersburg last year.

Each time you pulled me close with seductive strength but stayed guarded. Dignified, decadent, detached. Silently allured me to taste your beauty, to wander your world, to seek and find exactly what my soul craved. You led me down streets that ended, forcing me to retreat and start over. Or were you teaching me to find other paths?  Promises, then departures; neither ever felt permanent.  You’re the romance of unrequited love, the sighs of all that’s unfulfilled and ever longed for. The ecstasy in the moment and the promise that maybe one day…

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And then I saw you, poignantly the night before New Year’s Eve–a time to look back and  peer forward–as I stood on the deck of the water taxi. You appeared through the mist and cold.   Luminous and lavish.  Still standing.  And I?  Still feeling.  Alive.

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You are no Don Juan. Like Elizabeth who married England, you carry a great burden for all who love you. With grace buoyed by hope and faith, you beckon us to enjoy the time left on this earth before all goes under.

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And yes, Venice. Though I fell in love with Saint Petersburg last March, you seem to be still The One.

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An Italian friend once told me I’m simpatica—that I understand what it means to live The Life and that I’m a woman meant for a Grande Amore.  I was definitely fashioned from birth a romantic, and the entire country of Italy has always felt like a soul mate. With many questions in 2016 looming, returning to a place that is meant to be wandered was, like the “fit” that is Morocco, a choice made for me, not by me.

Some call it serendipity, others destiny. I call it God. Marrakesh was exactly what I needed when I stepped off the plane sixteen months ago. Starting 2015 with the loves of my life, Taylor and Cole, in London was the best NYE ever– a blessed beginning of one of the most amazing years I’ve ever experienced. And likewise, watching fireworks from the Bridge of Sighs— choosing to exhale in trust and love rather than weariness and worry—I watched 2016 light up the sky.  A sight I’ll remember the rest of my life.

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I knew I’d love hearing church bells and Buon Anno spoken in the most beautiful language on earth.  How do I love thee, Italy? Let me count the ways.

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Paradoxically,  Venice is unified by bridges and divided by dead ends. As with life, without warning a seemingly good road can suddenly plunge one into dark depths.  Or maybe each halt teaches the art of retracing, rethinking, then rerouting a new course.

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The Ponte dei Sospiri, or Bridge of Sighs named by Lord Byron in the 19th century, is a place of blissful beginnings and tragic ends. Prisoners who crossed the Rio di Palazzo to the Doge’s Palace prison were said by the poet to sigh as they looked upon Venice’s beauty a final time. Yet couples who kiss on a gondola under the same bridge at sunset as St. Mark’s bells toll are said to be blessed with eternal love.

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Italy and life abroad continue to teach me.  Here’s seven secrets Venice shared for 2016…

 1)  Wandering can do wonders for the soul.

“Not all those who wander are lost.”–J. R. R. Tolkien

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‘It was one of those architectural wholes towards which, in any other town, the streets converge, lead you and point the way. Here it seemed to be deliberately concealed in a labyrinth of alleys, like those palaces in oriental tales to which mysterious agents convey by night a person who, taken home again before daybreak, can never again find his way back to the magic dwelling which he ends by supposing that he visited only in a dream.’–Marcel Proust

Like the Marrakech medina, Venice is constructed as a medieval maze of mystery and adventure.  Jasna and I  enjoy wandering both.  I’ve learned since moving to Morocco that when I let go and relax, God always brings peace and sometimes the world brims with bliss.   So when Jasna pointed at the Giudecca Canal restaurant and said, “Let’s eat there, it’s pretty”– neither of us having any idea we had chosen for lunch a historical literary hub– I accept it not as a coincidence, but as a gift.  Both English majors, we were thrilled to learn that Hotel La Calcina, (aka Ruskin’s House) was where creatives such as John Ruskin (who I studied in a Victorian prose graduate course) lived and Ranier Maria Rilke (one of my favorite writers), Marcel Proust, Bortolo Giannelli, Giuseppe Berto and Francesco Maria Piave gathered. A muse to many, Venice fed free spirited expats Lord Byron, Robert Browning, Truman Capote, Ezra Pound, Ernest Hemingway, Charles Dickens, and Thomas Mann and continues to inspire art today. A magical place to christen a new year of writing.

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2)   Trust the journey. Relax, wait, move, live passionately patient in faith and hope. 

“I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”–Ranier Maria Rilke

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Christmas peace out

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 3)  “All great art is praise.” –John Ruskin

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4)    Be true to who you are and the One who designed you that way.  We are colorful creatures all.

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Waiting for 2016

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5)  Con Dio tutto è possibile. (With God all things are possible.) 

Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become. –John Ruskin

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Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.–Ephesians 3:20

In Venice everything seems possible.  I’m grateful for Anu’s invitation.  She’d  made plans to be there a week in an affordable hostel she found 4 minutes from St. Mark’s Square.  Jasna flew from England and I from Marrakesh to join her a couple of days.  My round trip ticket was $125–and our  triple room cost me 57 Euros per night.  And though December hit me hard with new challenges and I questioned my decision to go, I knew I may never spend New Year’s Eve in Venice again– particularly at such a price.  Thus, I moved forward  with plans prayed over and made in good faith.  I refused to let regret rob me of joy.  I let go and received the gifts of the trip from the moment a kind Italian man grabbed my suitcase as I was running to find a train to the last night when Anu invited me to dinner with her Italian family–sweetest people ever.

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I highly recommend Casa per Ferie La Pietà, more a hotel than a hostel, with a panoramic view from the terrace, a beautiful breakfast room, clean accommodations, and nice people.  I’d never stayed on the island before–usually too expensive–but here there is no commute by water taxis.  The three of us stayed in a huge room with restrooms/showers across and down the hall.  It is quiet, family friendly, and a great place to escape alone or meet other travelers.

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View from our room–one bridge from The Bridge of Sighs
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Anu
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Terrace view

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6)   La Dolce Vita (The Sweet Life) is family, friends, food and fun.

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.–Truman Capote

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Spritz Veneziano, an aperitif made of Prosecco wine, Campari, apple, and sparkling mineral water

 

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Christening running shoes with Prosecco on New Year’s Day

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Prashanth, Anu, Carmen, Sandro, and Marta

 7)  Dum Spiro Spero (While I breathe, I hope.)

Marta (pictured above and expecting her first child) told me her parents’ love story.  Her mother, Carmen, met her father, Sandro, in Peru in 1981 when they were both students climbing Machu Picchu with friends.  After three days together, each returned home–Carmen to Argentina and Sandro to Italy.  Because she didn’t speak Italian and he didn’t speak Spanish, they wrote letters in French.  In October Sandro returned to visit her family.  After fifteen days with her (plus the three in January), he proposed.  They married, she moved with him to the lake district of Italy near Como, and they’ve been happy since.  Oh how I do love a good love story.

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In Germany I let go of fear.  In Venice I remembered again all is well and will be well.  In 2015 God gave me the desires of my heart–beauty, adventure, and love of family and friends.  And though His love is all I need, He gave me the confidence to dare to dream…to believe again… that  somewhere in 2016 my Grande Amore, whoever he is, awaits.

“I don’t pretend to understand these feelings, but I’m willing to let the inexplicable sit sacred.” –Marlena de Blasi

Happy 2016…and for all my images of Venice and other destinations, please go to my photography site at cindymccain.photoshelter.com.

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Auld Lang Syne…Best Part of My German Holiday

Auld Lang Syne…Best Part of My German Holiday

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Age appears to be best in four things: old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read. –
Francis Bacon

It began as a house swap inspired by one of my favorite Christmas films, The Holiday.  My friend, Amy, would stay at my apartment in Marrakesh while I would stay in her apartment in Hamburg, Germany.  I’d also travel to see Arunima in Idstein, but she convinced me I’d be spending all of my time on a train. I didn’t want to be a bother, but she said I’m family.

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I met Mithu, (still Arunima to me) discussing old authors in my English class. She was my student and graduated high school in 1986– the last year I lived in Kentucky before moving to Tennessee. Though she hasn’t aged in three decades she was and is an old soul, still taking care of people she loves, still loved by many. The Super Student is now Super Mom. And a lifelong friend.

Thirty years ago she was my TA and Girl Friday (and Monday-Thursday), a pro at managing the yearbook staff, helping me with my paper load, and keeping a new teacher sane. She helped me pack up my life in Lexington and even visited me a few years after that in Nashville. In the time since we’d seen each other, she became a mom of twins in Germany who are now the age she was when I met her. Knowing I couldn’t fly home Christmas, she and her sons, Lucas and Max, graciously opened their home to me. And I am so grateful they did.

I knew reconnecting with this old friend would make my first Christmas away from my children bearable. She must have been exhausted after a weeklong business trip to Crete, and when she had time to decorate, cook, clean, and gift shop I have no idea. I do know that when she picked me up from the airport, same warm hug, same wry sense of humor, same kindness and ease, we picked up the friendship as if no time had passed. Now both adults, expats, single moms, we have even more in common.

Who knew in the ’80s two Kentucky girls would spend this Christmas together in Germany?   I will never forget walking into her quiet, peaceful home, advent candles glowing before a beautiful tree.

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Or wandering the quiet Sunday streets of Idstein, a town founded in the 12th century.  The oldest building, the watchtower below, was built around 1170, but became the “witches’ tower” around 1676 during witch hunts similar to those in Salem.

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Here mistletoe abounds.

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I will never forget talking the new Star Wars movie and books with Lucas and Max who are majoring in German and English (or playing Activity  which required game-challenged me to explain, pantomime, or draw the English translation of German words and phrases–like “pipe of an organ” or “beer crate” for my partner to guess).

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Or walking with Ingrid, the boys’ grandmother, in green fields flanked by a German wood and a pink sunset after she and Mithu prepared dinner. We returned to a cooked goose and white linen.

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Fresh apple pie, our Nachtisch (aftertable/dessert in German)
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Baker and Bearer of Roses

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Or being invited to the home of Patrik, Arunima’s boyfriend, where I had Christmas lunch with his mom and sister.

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Raclette on Christmas Day–simila to fondue, meat is grilled at table and topped with melted cheese

Or the night before I left, after a week of all the  food, food, food (to be said in the rhythm of Dr. Zeus) Arunima served,

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we relaxed, talked, and laughed over wine and a movie.  Prost! (Cheers!) to her visiting me in Marrakesh soon.

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As 2016 calls us to all look ahead in hope,

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I love that “Auld Lang Syne” (meaning “for the sake of old times”) reminds us to first look back in gratitude, remembering one of life’s greatest gifts, old friends.

Cologne, Germany Christmas Markets

Cologne, Germany Christmas Markets

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The Cathedral Christmas Market in Cologne

I am still with my friend’s family at their home in Idstein. Earlier this week I spent 48 hours in Cologne.

In this city in 1709 Giovanni Maria Farina, an Italian perfume maker, created a fragrance he named after his new home. He described to his brother the concoction called Eau de Cologne: “I have found a fragrance that reminds me of an Italian spring morning, of mountain daffodils and orange blossoms after the rain.” The original formula is still sold there.

But the highlight (literally) of the city is the Cologne Cathedral (Koelner Dom), the largest Gothic church in Germany and the tallest Roman Catholic cathedral in the world. The UNESCO Heritage site was built to house the bones of the three wise men, brought to the city in 1164. Started in 1248 and finished in 1880, it was dedicated to St. Peter and the Virgin Mary in the tradition of Gothic cathedrals in northern France. From 1880-1884 it was the tallest building in the world.

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Bones of the 3 Wise Men are enshrined here in gold.

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I originally planned to see in 24 hours four of the city’s seven markets–the Cathedral Market, Old Town “Home of the Elves” Market, Neumarkt’s Market of Angels, and the Harbor Christmas Market.  An ambitious plan, but it would mean booking a room for only one night. A solo female traveler, I wanted to be near the Cathedral Market, having read it’s the hub of celebration, to enjoy live music at night. I hoped to walk everywhere in safety day or night with no need for a taxi—even to and from the train station. I found a hotel,  in this perfect location on one of the websites with deals I typically use. However, my friend, Mithu, said rather than sprinting through the city, I should book through HRS (Hotel Reservation Services) because at their prices I could get two nights for the price of one. My room was 65 Euro. It overlooked the Elf Market and was one block from the Cathedral Market. Mission accomplished.

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The Elf Market Outside my window

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Breakfast

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Lunch (Mulled wine comes in a mug which can be kept as a souvenir or turned in for the deposit).
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Green cabbage–my favorite dish
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Dinner

 

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Live music, more food and Glühwein or “glow-wine” (the German winter drink of heated red wine spiced with cinnamon sticks, cloves, star aniseed,  citrus, and sugar) one could ever possibly eat or drink, and friendly folks were found at all four. With the Cologne-Bonn airport close by and train connections aplenty, it is a beautiful Christmas destination.

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Around the corner and up the hill…Cathedral Market

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I met a very kind lady, Lina, who sold the best cookies ever and is a Life Coach at www.aura-soma-wellness.de.

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In Cologne but Never Alone: Reminded by Christmas to Fear Not

In Cologne but Never Alone: Reminded by Christmas to Fear Not

 

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Christmas is charged with nostalgia. I’m in bed looking out my window at the Market of the Elves in Cologne, Germany. Under tents and trees all lit up, replicas of funny bearded men beckon below. Elf statues are more numerous here than in pictures of Santa’s workshop in the book Mama Lou read to my sister and me when we were kids. I came to Cologne to find Christmas cheer because I knew I’d need it.

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I have dreaded the holidays for months. It is the first Christmas I’ll spend without my children with me.  My son graduates in May on my daughter’s birthday. Last year we had the ultimate Christmas reunion, but because flights from Marrakesh to Nashville are too expensive with the May trip, we decided I’ll be home for Christmas if only in my dreams.

Because flights are cheap to Europe, I decided to spend the holiday with a friend in Germany and take the train to the Christmas markets. My daughter said she couldn’t bear to think of me sad in my apartment alone and all the family wished me well. All my coworkers—international teachers who in their collective years abroad have traveled to every country on the planet it seems—said “No one does Christmas like Germany.” And so here I am in a city with seven Christmas markets—an amazing place (as you’ll see in my next post). Yet despite enjoying the music, live trees, winter air wafting with spices and mulled wine, I’ve also shed some tears.

Since moving to Africa I’ve had bouts of loneliness and fear. Through every trial God comforted me, strengthened me, grew me more into the woman He has always wanted me to be. I have found freedom, peace, joy that nothing from without can sustain—only his presence within. I have seen beauty and experienced adventure as gifts—love letters from Him–during this amazing season. I have been protected and contributed on this new continent,  feeling totally in His will and being blessed beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Still… despite so much growth…so much faith and thankfulness for how far God has brought me physically, emotionally, and spiritually throughout the course of my life and particularly over the last sixteen months… despite feeling closer to God than ever  and thus, like the Proverbs woman clothed in strength and dignity who smiles at the future … a woman who now lives most days without fear, regret, and doubt….that woman took a holiday. Today, thankfully, she is back.

While teaching The Life of Pi my eyes filled at the line, “All of life is letting go.” It seems I was brought to Africa to learn this truth more than any other.  I had to let go of so much to follow the life in Morocco God planned for me. Being close to family and friends; renting the home and leaving the job where I’d been secure for over twenty years; giving up comforts like water and wifi that never failed, a car to grab what I forgot at the store, a neighborhood and greenway where I’d walk my sweet dog, Ella.

Letting go is painful. Because our natural reflex is to hold on. We fear if we let go we’ll lose something rather than free ourselves to receive gifts God wants to place in our hands. Letting go means losing the illusion of control and stepping out in faith, believing, remembering this leg of the journey was God-mapped though I can’t see where it ultimately will lead. I’m realizing that distance doesn’t mean I’m asked to let go of family and friends. Though I can’t hug them during the holidays, they are with me in my heart, loving me on Skype and in spirit.

Letting go means losing fear—the greatest enemy of the soul. I believe with all my heart, “God does not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” I just don’t always live it. Like Linus, I’ve been able to drop my security blanket (whatever I contrive and hold onto thinking it will protect me against fallout of a fallen world) when I remember two simple words—a mantra in my Bible: “Fear Not.”

My Truth and Light

Yesterday as I walked along the Rhine River with God I thanked Him for being my wonderful Counselor, my Prince of Peace. I believe with all my heart He is Emmanuel—God with us. This morning I googled “Daily Devotion” to reset (as I must do every day) my mind to truth.  Only truth trumps fear. Up popped this post by Jason Soroski explaining the impetus for dropping what we cling to in fear.   I’m also grateful for his Part 2, which reminds me why, after letting go, I as a human, pick up my blanket again.  I’ve often felt like Charlie Brown–someone who wants to be perfect but never gets it right.  I’m thankful for this reminder that I don’t have to. I’m loved by One who will never leave me.

I came to Morocco believing the move would benefit my family, finances, future, and faith.  In the latter, I knew I’d find true freedom.  I haven’t seen where my story will end and thus fear sometimes still rears its ugly head, but the Christmas story  reminds me again that I am to fear not.

On the train ride to Cologne I saw beautiful woods and a river. I knew this trip was what I needed. Though the skies were cloudy and I was striving to trust in the dark what I’d seen in the light, God again was taking me on a journey that would make me lie down in green pastures…lead me beside still waters… restore my soul.

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And this Christmas I find comfort and cheer knowing no matter what 2016 holds, no matter where I’ll live, work, serve, that surely goodness and mercy will follow my all the days of my life and I’ll dwell in the house of the Lord forever.