There She Goes Just A Walking Down the Street..

This is a small oil painting I did the other day... size is 9x12 inches and I did it using cardboard to apply the paint to the canvas. Since I dont have any pastel stumps here I made own using toilet paper rolls - yes I now use toilet paper - and the priority mail packages that people send me... nothing get thrown away in the Peace Corps. What I did was fold the cardboard until a got the point I was looking for and used that as my instrument along with my fingers in spots. I was looking for texture in this piece and I think I got that... plus with the canvas being so small and most of my oil brushes are large I was not about to "trim" any brushes. I haven't signed it yet so I may still go back into it once it sets up a little more.
I found the composition (image) either on a PCV site or just a random search on the internet... so I take no credit for the compositon (well swiya..I did change it some) but the rendering is all mine.
I have one more canvas left... and heading to Rabat soon to purchase more... it is expensive on my PC salary, but somethings I need others I dont... like meat.... who needs meat, i can survive on fruit, veggies, pasts and soups... hmmm maybe that is why I have dropped close to 30lbs... "humdu-li-lah" as they say in Sefrou.
salam-

Roasted Corn on the Cob and Other Sights

Roasting corn on the cob has become the latest sidewalk food here... the corn is cooked over an open fire on a stick and if you get one that is not burnt, then it reminds me of home swiya... only I would like some fresh butter... the salt they have.
In this sketch is the ever present souq bag... for 6-10Dhs yo can pick one of these up and do your shopping... I need to get another one.

These drawings are just ramdon woman and the a quick sketch of the push cart man... in every town in Morocco they are bzzf amount of push carts... men or boys who for a few Dhs will move anything from point A to B...

The Other Women...

I have been trying to capture the women of Sefrou in my sketches over the last month or so and mainly I have been focusing on the traditional dress versus the many western attire I see here in the Fes/Sefrou region. I do not wish to miss lead anyone into thinking all the women dress in the caftan... I just happen to find these women much more interesting to sketch. Also I live in a very conservative section of Sefrou (religious) and I would not wish to cause a stir by sketching the women in public... I try my best to be discrete when I draw people as it is part of the religion not to make representation of the human form... most people when they see my work never say anything beyond praise... but as i said I live in an area that is pretty conservative (from what i have been told) and it would be my luck to run into the one man who finds my work offensive.

As I mentioned most women here are still covered from head to toe... yet many wear the caftan so tight that every curve of the body is defined, or they wear 4" spiked high-heels that my women friends back in the States refer to as "CFM" shoes.... I will not explain, if you dont know then find out what it means. It is the juxipostion of being covered up yet still dressing to show they woman and he beauty that is in all woman... Then there is the in between... half-western, half-traditional... head scarf and tight jeans or sleeveless blouses or head un-covered and the full dress. One thing I have not captured yet is the mind-numbing colors, color combinations and wild designs that make the head spin... That will be my next subject...

The Weavers Live Down the Street...

Continuing the theme to capture the woman of Morocco...

Switched back to oil paint for this painting... I started this yesterday and I am about 4 hours into it... it came together rather quick and I think I will just suggest the wool on the left a little define the hand more and than put it to bed. I was inspired to this piece from all the women that SDB work with here with the Peace Corps. They spend hours a day... day-after-day working on these wooden loams creating these zrbiya in the hope that they will make a swiya l'flus for the family.

I have one more canvas left and would like to complete it or at least start it over the next week... then Ramadan is on the horizon and life will change here even more... night becomes day... day becomes night. Then I will need to get to Rabat to buy more supplies.

Hope you like my attempts...
salam-

The Waiting...

Waiting for call to prayer... this was the fourth call of the day which in my town takes place around 7ish these days. I saw this man in traditional dress sitting outside the bab of the mosque and his look was of a religious man and it propelled me to try to capture it. My thought was this could be the 11th century or 21st... as this man waits to pays his respects to his prophet and god he is in deep thought... I focused on his gesture... dispelling detail... minutes late the muezzin call comes..." Allah Akbar..." is repeated and the man slowly raises up, his walk to the door is deliberate... bends down to remove his sandles and disappears into the holy building... and I am left with the call trailing off and the low murmuring of praying from within. Iam not a follower, I have my own already... I am an observer... I take snippets and play with them.

Just Another Day...

Here are a few more scene from outside in my square, the first is of a teenager and his mom as they wait in the morning for a petite taxi to take them "uptown"... she was going at him verbally for a few minutes and every now and again he would look up with both the look of "are you done... and yes mmi". Finally the taxi arrived and "uptown" they went.

Next is the green grocery lady and she is having a slow day and the shade will be leaving her soon and the temperature on this day was in the high 90's and she is bundled as if snow will be arriving any minute. Unforunately her day never got better, a terrible wind storm swept into town later that day and everything was blown away... but in hindersight her bundled dress help beat back the dust and dirt that whipped through Sefrou that day.Later that day she was back in her spot her crates intact and new product... yet still no business.... Peace Corps is easy... Life in Morocco can be very hard.

Salam-

A Got Fever For...

Well actually I just have a fever and up until today it was raging and I was swiya concerned with my health over the last 24 hours. I somehow went over 11 months in Morocco with very little health issues compared to many of my fellow PCVs, it took going to Spain during San Fermin for me to get very sick. Somehow I came in contact and got a virual infection that put me down for the count over the last 72 hours. To recapture, last week during the opening ceremonies in which thousands of people are drenching in in sangria and who knows what, I came home from that party after some drink, food and too much sun and got violently ill, after that passed and I was never 100% and a day later had a sore throat and what seemed like a low-grade fever.... but I was there to run with the bulls and a little sickness would not stop me.

Well to jump ahead upon return to Morocco my fever climbed and I could barely get out of my own way... so I did what a Flynn almost never does.... I called the PCMO (doctor) and explained what was going on and the doc (let me say here that the PCMO is about the only thing in PC that functions on all cylinders) they told me to get some Amoxil and to take it and keep them posted on my condition. Which may not sound like much, but believe me when you are here it is a lot.

The last 72 hours after running a high fever, my head pounding and face hurting, having trouble breathing and in general wondering which section of my body the infection would attack next... this has been as sick as I can ever remember in my adult life but other times I was in the comfort of my home in the States and had the availablity of a hot shower, clean sheets a doctor who could see me the same day and someone to make sure I had food to eat... in Morocco things can go from bad to worse in a very short span... so I am happy to say that today I am feeling better, stripped my bedding and hand washed them and hung them out, will take a bucket bath and I hope to go shopping as food in my home is running out. Yet I know I am not well yet and must control my urge to get back to a normal day... so rest is still my major activity for the next few days.

Thanks to everyone for the well wishes

Madrid and Pamplona

"Your not a moron. Your only a case of arrested development"... to quote Papa Hemingway from "The Sun Also Rises".



At times I felt like a moron as I waited to run with the bulls during San Fermin Festival in Pamplona, Spain. Standing in a vomit, urine and stale sangria amongst thousands of would be runners that stench keep me from breathing through my nose. The sight of drunks puking just feet away made me wondered WTF is going on here. Yet I could not leave nor did I want to... the idea of running with the bulls has been with me since I read that novel oh so many years ago. What I never imagined was the craziness of the party that this town turned into for a week plus. the party NEVER stops... as we headed into the streets to run with the bulls there was a constant flow of people still going from the night before, drunken "children" trying to find there way to a place to sleep... under a tree, park bench... anywhere.


The first day in Pamplona we located our apartment and headed out to get the lay of the land... the next day was the "kick-off" to the San Fermin Celebration... there is no way to discribe this madness, one would have to be there and even then it was surreal.


July 7th: The first day of the run we got there early found a place to meet the bulls or so we thought, about 45 minutes before the run the police began to push over two thousand people about the length of a football field in less than 20 minutes... I MEAN PUSH... about a dozen cops just moved us and after a minute or so I knew we were not going to run today as we strayed to far from the cut off point. It was a learning experience.


July 8th: This time aware of the cut off line Bill and I got there early and stayed put.... as the time ticked down to the finally minutes we got seperated (more on this later) and then the sound of the first rocket... get ready.... then the sound of the second rocket.... the bulls are loose. I wait and make sure my shoes are dry and at the first sight of the bulls cresting the road I take off ... people are falling everywhere and I am trying my best not to be taken down by a runner... as the bulls are 20 feet away I am looking to get to high ground... spotting an opening on the fence I jump up as the bulls pass... a police man beckons me to climb out and i shake my head and jump down to chase the bulls into the ring... but as the second wave of bulls passes I know I will not get there in time... moments later I hear the final rocket and I am yards from the gate and will not get in.... masi muskil I have run with the bulls.... or more like I have ran from the bulls and then ran after the bulls. It was a great feeling and I was smiling ear-to-ear afterwards and wanted more.

This photo is of me and my friend Bill... Bill got kicked out minutes before the bulls were set loose for taking a photo (no camera allowed) so he is bummed and I am beaming. It was a high that lasted for hours.


July 9th: Bill, Justin and myself leave early to run with the bulls, Bill is down to his last day and has to run today or we may not leave HAHAHA, Justin can't leave Pamplona without doing it now and me... I am swiya sick but need to be there for my friends and what the heck I can do it again...

So finally tally... Ran with the Bulls twice and came out with many stories. Pamplona during San Fermin is a world class party and it you are young and ready to go at it 24 hours a day for a week this is your town... me I can't nor do I want to any longer, But I had a great time!!!


Back in Morocco now... fighting a sinus infection and fever and missing Europe!

Something In The Way She Moves..

I saw this little woman with her hand on her hip walking by the cafe next to my home... I scratched her in first as quick as I could as she was not going to stop for me... so like a snapshot in my brain I jotted down her general shape and attitude... from there I place the men in the cafe in the background to complete the picture.

There are a few cafe here that women enter but never outside on the sidewalk... In Morocco the women are harder to draw as they are always in motion on the streets, where as most men sit for hours in the cafe... so this is a very common scene in Morocco... it would be even more so if she was loaded down with bags and a child.

Everyday People...

More sketches of the people of Sefrou... I live in the BenSaffar section of Sefrou, it is more or less the center of the city and either from my home, the cafes on the street I sketch the people as they move about their daily lives. As the heat of the summer climbs the people are slowing down and I am doing my best to capture snippet of time, the first is the l'bid rajl (egg man)... he comes out every night and sells his eggs until almost midnight... the other is a woman waiting for a petite taxi in the early morning... the days heat is already in the low 90's at 8:00AM and dressed in typical dress I wonder how she is able to stand the heat covered in heavy clothes from head to toe... yet it appears she is fine.
Maybe being born into this climate the body has adjusted over time to the oppressive heat and humidity... I for one coming from New England melt away each minute of the day, wearing shorts, sandles and light shirts I still feel as if I live in an oven and slowly I am cooking.

What I would not give to be near the ocean or have a sniff of a breeze come in from the mountains, I am told Sefrou is not that hot and should be happy i am not further south where the temps average in the low 100's... it is the humidity that is pulling the energy out of everyone.