A blog for my brother – who believes I never go “anywhere f*&%ing nice”
Last updated you on our time in Rabat, Jarrod, where I witnessed the politest political protest I’ve ever encountered and had the very best chicken tagine of my life. Despite my ardent declaration that “I could eat that tagine every day and never get sick of it, really, I could…” a small group tour waits for no woman, and I’m … Continue Reading →
Rabat. Rabat. No, it’s not the noise emitted by a pretentious frog who’s decided to adopt an accent for shits and giggles. It’s the political capital of Morocco. Yes. Political Capital. Two words guaranteed to make my heart rate slow and eyes glaze over. You mean it’s like the Canberra of Morocco? And we only have one afternoon there???? But … Continue Reading →
I can still picture your face, Jarrod, when I told you I was bound for Morocco. An expression similar to that of a weary parent who’s sighing “I’m not angry, just disappointed…” I promise the places you’d prefer I visit (eg. New Zealand, America…) are definitely on my list, but this time the lure of mint tea, medinas and mosques … Continue Reading →