Christmas Road Trip

Thom picked me up in Bernardsville on Christmas Day for our road trip to the Folly.  Tom, Audrey and Zoltan, in from Seattle for the holiday, wore the scarves I bought in Fes.

This ornament came from the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, a stop on the road trip Christine and I took last spring.  Road trips are a big part of retirement!

After stopping in DC to get Christine, we drove his Mercedes and her Mini Cooper down to Lake Worth in tandem with an overnight stop in Fayetteville, North Carolina, near Ft. Bragg.  Thom first put the top down in Georgia.

We passed the world's largest cigarette in Richmond.  Light traffic sped our journey south on I-95 but finding a place to eat Christmas night was a challenge.  Even McDonald's was closed.  Next year, we'll pack our own food.

2019 Holidays: Best In Show

Much has changed since I started photographing holiday windows thirteen years ago. 

Barney’s, which first inspired my efforts with “Happy Warholidays,” closed this year.  Lord & Taylor, last.  They leave an enormous void in both the wildly creative and traditional approaches to bricks and mortar marketing.

But while technology taketh with one hand, it giveth with another:  my new i-Phone made it easier than ever to take pictures of the light shows that seem to adorn every new commercial development, including the bottom of the World Trade Center!

 

Look at 'em all!

The Last Tagine

Abdul took us to Bistro La Saveur, another riad in the newer part of Marrakech, for our final dinner.

I had the superb roast breast of duck, much better than the espresso martini.

We enjoyed a very merry evening.  It's amazing how quickly you bond with an international group of strangers.

On Sunday morning, Thom and I rushed to the YSL Museum before departing Marrakech.

The guards ushered us into an exhibition of homoerotic work by Jacques Azema, a 20th century French artist unfamiliar to me.  The internet doesn't offer much about him, either. Here's a self-portrait.

I liked the exhibition enough to buy the catalog.

This entry would have been much longer if the YSL Museum had permitted visitors to photograph the permanent exhibit of the designer's dresses.  Its beauty brought me to tears.  Really.  Another gallery paid tribute to one of YSL's muses.

Some fanciful sketches were also displayed.

More succulents outside the museum.  I shot this cactus fruit in portrait mode.

We shared a cab to the airport with Cole and Jeannie, who live on Haight Street in San Francisco.  They met at a Goth bar and eventually made a pact:  for every Nine Inch Nails concert Jeannie attends with Cole, he has to accompany her to Tom Jones!

Tom struck a pose at the Marrakech airport.  Little did we know we were on stand-by for our Casablanca flight.

All's well that end's well.  Royal Air Maroc found us seats at the last moment, but the propellers were a surprise.

Lost in the Medina

Souqs, fondouks and mosques are common sights in the Marrakech medina.

Thom was less than thrilled with the quality of merchandise.  He's carrying his bag of biscotti.

Most souks sell souvenirs for the tourists who mob Jemaa el-Fnaa, the main square where snake charmers and chained monkeys offer a theater of live cruelty.

Uncaged birds seemed less offensive; nor did their owners demand tips for photos.

King Mohammad VI sees everything.  He's ruled Morocco for more than two decades with a personal fortune of more than two billion dollars.

We wandered around for a couple of hours, observing daily life.

Without cars, you don't expect traffic jams.

More bikes.

We eventually stumbled upon the photography museum where an historical exhibit illustrated how little the medina has changed since the medium was invented.  This cat watched us enjoy mint tea, lemon water and smuggled biscotti on the roof.

We did find a nicer shopping area near the museum.  

I bought a meta sweatshirt at Max and Jan.  It was either that or "Rock the Kasbah."  The young salesman claimed he knew the Clash song, but I didn't believe him.

The artwork at the hotel reminded me of another leather souvenir I picked up for $10.  The owner of the souk declared "You bargain better than a Moroccan."  I'll bet he says that to all the shoppers!