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Thailand, January 2017

2/25/2017

2 Comments

 
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Jan 8  Too Much Shopping for Jewelry Elements
Our hotel staff welcomed us like old friends, and we were so relieved to finally stop traveling and be here. The monks at the temple across the street have added a loud speaker, so that we hear their chanting even better, twice a day. They have been saying sutras for the King of Thailand who passed away in October.
 
We have been running around, getting shopping and fabricating work done. The money goes so fast!  Always on the hunt for something interesting, I scored some very old and unusual shaped glass earrings from Nagaland.  They are modern looking in the way of blocky, ancient rock axes, suggesting a much more ancient design idiom.  These earrings are from present-day northeast India and western Burma, and are destined to become pendants. We have also spent some time in the Afghan and Indian shops looking for rock crystal beads.  And of course I have been visiting the many silver shops looking for new jewelry findings. Between the pieces I am having fabricated and what I am finding, I feel excited about my direction. Today at the Chatuchak market I found a plastic cell phone cover with a scatter print of realistic brown roaches. Very proud of my score.  
 
As I mentioned, Thailand has lost its beloved King.  The country is in deep mourning and the mood is somber. People are dressed in black, gray, navy, or small quiet dark and light patterns. We see black and white bunting, sometimes black with silver. There are vignette portraits floating on a black ground. There are billboards of the King, studies in gray surrounded by paintings of soft gray clouds. There are huge billboards with Buddhist themes and reminders to aim toward heaven, that life is a cycle of death and rebirth and to remain steady in uncertainty. I am reminded of the passing of my father often- he died a week before the King.  People say the mourning here can continue two, maybe three years. While there is this mood of adness, it is not uncomfortable being here.        Below, Evening chants at the temple. 
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Jan 9   Our Neighborhood
Hi All,  it is about 6:30pm and the monks at the temple and monastery across the street from our hotel have been chanting for thirty minutes already. They will end around 7pm or so.  I am really going to miss the beautiful, moving chanting.
 
I thought I'd tell you a bit about our neighborhood. Our hotel is our hive In the midst of a neighborhood that is one of the world's gems, silver, jewelry and beads epicenters.  Unless we are going out to the sprawling weekend market by Sky Train get most of our work done within a mile up, down and off the small sois (alleys) on either side of New Road.  Our peregrinations by foot and rarely by Tuk Tuk take us as far up river as The River City Mall and then back down to our modest hotel.
 
This neighborhood is dense and seriously overbuilt. There are a few trees but mostly this is as urban as you can get.  Electrical and telecom wires hang low, tangles of squid ink pasta. During the day, the traffic is horrendous. You are endangered just crossing the road. People hesitate and wait to cross, forming small herds for that "safety in numbers" mentality.  It's a game of chicken with two distinct yet very different strategies. Either just walk out and hope they stop, or defiantly stare them down and cross. Either way, we are never certain they will stop. And now even the unevenly paved sidewalks are not safe. Today I was walking slightly ahead of my husband and suddenly a blazing motorcycle on the sidewalk!!! buzzed past us. If I had turned to say something or even shifted my market bag from the left to the right it would have been all over. 
 
Anyway the reason we seemingly risk our lives is to visit the many shops that infest this area. Even though we walk past many of these, you have your Indian tailors, the Euro beer and coffee shops, the many massage parlors with the bored staff sitting out front on the steps checking their cell phones.  You have all the food carts selling grilled wieners and cocktail sausages on sticks, satays, fruits, rice sweets, fresh squeezed juices, and tempting grilled chicken.  Then you have the lottery ticket sellers, the stamp enthusiasts and amulet sellers, the post office, the arrangers of flowers and garland offerings, stores that have been closed and shuttered for years, the bronze and stainless cutlery shops, the Muslim kabob and halal food stops, the bazillion Thai and Indian silver sellers, the numerous Indian precious and semi precious gem bead sellers, and the many Afghan shops selling all the same hand hewn beads, concocted instant artifacts that were supposedly dug out of the desert hundreds of years ago, as well as exquisitely crafted enameled and silver show pieces, alongside slightly junky clunky jewelry made in Nepal.  They even have faked Native American Navajo turquoise necklaces and faux Moroccan amulets, “coral” and “amber”, and suites of CZ diamond jewelry. And they have great stuff too!  Like crossing New Road, you just can't be sure what's going to happen next.  You have to go out and hunt for it.  
 
The Afghan guys are mainly related, many distant cousins or married to cousins, etc. And they have incredible memories. I can go in a shop and a totally different salesperson will show me more of what I looked at two days before, shown to me by someone else. I can go into a shop and they remember what I bought four days ago, or even four years ago, and they remember the price I paid! And we have the fabricator of my designs and the little cafe where we love to eat lunch.  We always miss our daily, often hot and sweaty, tiring roaming about here. Like bees we always return to our hive to escape the commotion and sensory assault.

Below, the Beach Bar in the rain
 
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Jan. 12  The Beach
Bangkok is an intense place- a densely packed city with layers of shops, sidewalk stalls, high rises, and serious traffic.  We walk miles in a day going through our rounds.  After 5 or 6 days of this, plus employing the degree of scrutiny that I use in selecting my purchases, and the sleepless nights from a combination of jet lag and jewelry designing imagination and excitement, I need a break.  So we get our running around and initial buying done for this leg of the trip and go somewhere to give my fabricator time to make up my designs.  I also need to spend time thinking about exactly what I want to make and also carefully consider what other elements I might need to purchase when we head to Chiang Mai and return to Bangkok. We travel to a small, undeveloped part of Phuket that is off the beaten track.  There is not much here - a few hotels and condos, one outdoor restaurant, no shops, clubs or tourist attractions.  In this serene environment I am able to iincubate my designs and plan my next jewelry line. Our main activity is to head to The Beach Bar everyday for some really delicious fresh Thai seafood.
 
The huge Buddha still looks down upon us on the mountain high above Phuket town harbor.  White puffy clouds, layers of gray, the jagged black-green hills and dull turquoise sea. Buddha becomes camouflaged against the rising clouds - a dragon, three pandas and a lion in a canoe, a poodle lying on its back, dissolving into blue. Buddha returns, surrounded by a luminous pale gray mist. 
 
There are some changes here. The large and medium-sized are gone. What has happened to them?  And no hermit crabs either. Last year we saw so many good sized crab holes and trails, and at night so many pretty good sized ones scuttling about. Now- none at all. This worries me. 
 
There are plenty of international travelers here. Some who speak English ask us how we feel about the US election result. The Thai are too polite to ask. We drink our beers and eat quietly. I feel like I am wearing a scarlet letter. A for American. 
 
Jan. 13
Now I know what happened to the crabs. Up the beach past the Beach Bar, a new hotel has been under construction for over a year.  Now the work is in earnest and the workers are laboring late into the evening. You can see the welding flares and hear the heavy clang of steel beams from the bar.  
 
When we sauntered down to the Beach Bar for dinner, the tide was unusually low. All the low lying volcanic rocks and dead corals were exposed. About 50 blue-shirted construction workers were crawling over the rocks as far as our hotel and beyond, to left and right, with their sticks and bars prying up the rocks to expose any little creatures - small shrimp, shellfish and crabs. 
 
These workers make about $8 to $9 a day. Small clumps of workers walk back to their beach camp with plastic bags containing their booty.  The bags are mostly empty after an hour of searching. Maybe 4 or 5 people share a bag.  They have been collecting and eating anything they can find off the beach for about a year now. Almost nothing is left.  Their hunger, their need, their impact on the natural environment has changed this beach for a long time. One question answered, many more arise.
 
Jan. 17  Big Run For It at the Beach Bar
As usual we sauntered up to the Beach Bar for a beer and dinner. Oh my, the crispy panko-crusted pounded shrimp cakes were divine, served with pickled cucumber and thin, diagonally-sliced big red Thai chili as a relish. Then we had a new-to-me version of Panang red curry with super fresh, barely cooked prawns. The legs were partially trimmed but still attached so the body juices added greatly to the dimension of flavor. That was garnished with thinnest sliced kaffir lime leaves.  Along with that we had a fried rice in pineapple, again a wonderful version with plenty of curry aroma without the overbearing flavor.
 
The sky became dark and heavy clouds loomed, moving menacingly in our direction. Surely it was going to be a pelting rain any minute. The stocky, general-like owner of the Beach Bar predicted we had some time and no need to shift to his open aired, raised platform palapa-like covered area - just yet.
 
The light from the setting sun was fantastic, then suddenly the wind shifted and we got rain.  You have never seen his staff move in such practiced maneuvers to get everything inside- small square boxes of Thai Kleenex masquerading as napkins, the oilcloth covered tables, plastic condiment containers, and of course the patrons, their chairs and food. We sat near the steep steps up into the refuge.  The owner's 5 year rapidly produced a plastic semi-automatic weapon and plastic helmet, then started his imaginary assault, obliterating every boat and catamaran in the harbor.  In a few seconds the heavy visqueen window shades had been rolled down, the one next to us dripping onto a live power strip. Just as quickly as the rain and drama all started, it ended. But the party atmosphere rolls on, although the storm moved on.  

​Below, Shopping at the Bangkok Chatuchak weekend market
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Jan. 19  Update from Chiang Mai
After a few days at the beach, we fly up to the northern city of Chiang Mai. Our fabricator needs two to three weeks of working time, so we still have days to go before heading back to get my finished work.  We stayed at a new to us place with a name meaning place of the spirit or peaceful spirit. A great place to think and design, when not out looking for design elements. The gardens are every bit of beautiful serenity, lush with fountains, koi ponds, tall bamboos, banana trees, intricate pink ginger plants, all sorts of bushes, vines and everywhere orchids in small baskets wired to the timber bamboo and banana trees.
 
Chiang Mai is a critical stop in our shopping trip, for here we get new silver and antique silver from Southeast Asia. Every year the pickings for old treasures are slim, with the prices much fatter. One of our dealers of many, many years introduced us to a new person- an intoxicatingly beautiful and exotic Akha woman with her long, thick black hair upswept into a twisted bun and fastened with traditional heavy, antique silver pins. Oh how I wish I could look like her with her smooth caramel skin, that amazing hair and charismatic soulfulness that so many tribal people possess.  I found some stunning pieces from her. There was so much more I could have bought, but my wallet is getting empty.
 
It has been years since we went through the bustling night markets. Endless rows of little stalls and hawkers spill out all over, making the "sidewalk" areas quite sparse. From hill-tribe woven and stitched handicrafts to t-shirts of all kinds, to minute paper shade lamps and paper-covered string lights, handmade woven mat shoes and slippers, luggage and backpacks for over-shoppers of all ilk, or even bottles of honey, and hand-made soaps.  And the many massage places, fish tank pedicure places, bars, restaurants and food stalls. And the lady boys handing out handbills for the evening show.  You name it- it's here somewhere.
 
Jan 25  Back in the Hive
Yesterday we arrived back in Bangkok from Chiang Mai. Ahhh, back at the hive.  The mission is to collect all the work started three weeks ago and to buy anything I thought about after time to reflect and design. And of course we are in Bangkok to work our way back home. Procrastination is rampart at the fabricator's workshop.  And of course we will be leaving soon which makes getting the work done even more urgent. The completed work I saw looks great but he has an all-nighter coming.
 
The next day the rest of my work was delivered, minutes before we departed for the airport.  It all looks so great!  I am so full of enthusiasm to get started on my new White Light collection.  If only I could work on the plane!

 
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Antique Akha earrings on hand made foxtail chain, Akha hair pin and triple strand hand made foxtail chains.
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Food cart in Bangkok
2 Comments

Thailand 2016

6/3/2016

1 Comment

 
 January, 2016
Report from the Bangkok Jewelry District
Greetings from hot sweaty Thailand.   I have been pushing myself to prowl through the Bangkok jewelry district. Too many shops, too many enticing windows beckoning with every kind of gem, bead and artifact (new and old)...  So excited, over-stimulated, exhausted and brimming with ideas that I could not sleep!  Arising early and spreading out my new loot, I created ideas for new pieces and took raw materials to my fabricator to make up some samples. He is just up the street, and after our meeting we lunched at our favorite tiny cafe.  Our table had a giant bouquet of purple orchids placed in a crystal vase. Each table had giant bouquets of some type of flower. One was all violet mini-carnations, another baby roses, extravagant lavish displays, each.  Good people watching here as well as great music, art everywhere and big wooden floor to ceiling doors open to the air. And the food is delicious- yes, another component of the owner’s elegant business model. Outside the shop are several street cooks making chicken soup or grilled weenies for the various artisan jewelry and metal smiths working in this neighborhood. It is an odd juxtaposition of jewelry fabricators and people of leisure who lunch, along side hungry business people. While we were eating our chicken satay, we saw two men rolling in tall, thin extremely heavy and flammable tanks of oxygen or gas down the side alley - rolling them around and around on their ends, even rolling them over the hand made traffic bumps. One guy was wrangling two of these tanks, holding them close at their necks but continually twirling each in opposite directions -all the time rolling them forward. Quite an act!   
 
Another day
Today we made a surgical shopping expedition out to the Chatuchak weekend market via the fabulous Sky Train. It is pristine and air conditioned- not a piece of litter anywhere, no graffiti at all. One way fare to Chatuchak Park costs about $1.25 per person. To get there we walk by stores fronted by row after row of all kinds of fruit and vegetable stands, sellers of cooked foods and sweets, floral garland offerings and lottery ticket sales. These individual entrepreneurial operations spill out onto the sidewalks, in front of the storefronts, so that all that is left is just a single person footpath. In season are white pomegranates, the much maligned garbage- stinky, spiky durian, green-skinned super sweet tangerines and tiny bananas the size of your thumb.  The backdrop is a melange of filthy streets, shiny new high-rises and cranes, huge TV screens broadcasting ads like Snail White face cream, tattered billboards, rumbling city busses with no windows and hoards of motorcycle taxis lined up against the curbs.  It feels like Bangkok was a source of inspiration for many of the street scenes in the futuristic movie “Blade Runner”. 
 
We arrived at the weekend market before the massive crowds arrived. Half of the stalls were not open, but everyone we wanted to shop with was already there and open. One of my favorite silver sellers had some really nice stuff.  People have repeatedly told us how slow tourism is here lately.  It started about 5 years ago with the political unrest and military coup. Not to mention how fearful people are of venturing too far from home these days. But our hotel is full and we see lots of foreigners enjoying their lives in this great city of Bangkok.
 
One of our best market finds, besides all my beautiful silver, was a small corner shop selling realistic, tiny mini Thai food carts. So charming!  We could not resist the intricate miniature details of the satay cart- complete with a grill full of painted "glowing embers" and teeny porcelain side dishes with "peanut sauce", a chopping block and microscopic cleaver. We also got a coffee cart and a Pad Thai cart. All that and more we shipped off at the post office this afternoon. 
 
The most striking sight of the day was truly a timeless one. We first heard, then spotted a man making a rhythmic metallic sound by swiveling to and fro a small metal hand cymbal in his left hand.   On his right shoulder he balanced a long stick with two tall square old oil containers suspended at either end. The front container was full of sticks of wood.  The container behind him had a fire burning in the bottom and there was a tar-like smell eminating from it. What was it?  He is the dyer of black.  Bring your stained clothes and for a small fee he covers them with the tar-based hot black dye.  Who knew?  
 
Well, we hit it hard in Bangkok and will pick up our metal-smithing work tomorrow afternoon. Sunday we leave for a few days at the beach. We saw the stick and soon we get to eat the carrot.
 
Another day
Hi dear friends. We are hoping you are well and that the weather has gotten better.  Yesterday we flew from Bangkok to Phuket, then drive about 90 minutes to “our” beach. Our small hotel overlooks the Gulf of Siam and we sit on a fairly shallow bay. At high tide the water is beautiful, but at low tide one sees a coral reef cemetery. All that is left are worn gray nubs, which is really sad and indicative of the tragic endangering of coral reefs everywhere.  The palms are beautiful and the sand is fine and soft. 
 
We walked up the beach near sunset and encountered a happy bar/ restaurant just hopping with a lot of Thai and Chinese customers. The bar/ restaurant just before it was quite empty. A sort of sad looking approached us with puppy dog eyes and a menu. We said "maybe later" and continued walking. After a few steps our hearts melted and we sat down at this sad little place. We had a wonderful beer and dug our feet into the soft sand, watching the sunset and a beige sand dog shift from place to place. We ordered egg rolls, thinking if the food is bad and that is why nobody is here, how bad can a spring roll be?  Hahahaha. If your idea of a spring roll is all slightly fermented cabbage and squishy grease, then here is the Michelin star place for you. We looked around and realized there was one customer that looked a lot like Putin, another with ginormous beer belly, and then a table with a lone pretty, young woman. She sat there all evening smoking. The "cook" is a huge slob with a cigarette dangling from his big fish lips. I guess you can tell we will not be going back there. The sad waiter is probably days away from losing his job due to lack of business, poor guy. 
I guess i will never get a job working for the Chamber of Commerce. But I did stop to think that every place has its own vibe and subculture that tourists float above. Will report back.
 
Another day
Hello All. We are trying hard to keep on our island parrot heads when the world, once again seems to have gone mad. This time the Sultanahmet square where John and I walked so many times. It is another tragedy and I hope we don't become numb to them. 
 
After breakfast we took a long tail boat ride around the bay.  The boatman is wiry and small, weighing in at maybe 90 pounds. He looked sharp in his navy blue Underarmor underwear and iridescent blue mirrored sunglasses. He told us about the tsunami 5 years ago, how he had taken a Dutch couple fishing at 7:30 and the tsunami hit at 8:00. He said the violent waves lasted 8 hours so all that time he circled and waited to come ashore. When he did nothing was there. Luckily not so many people in this area lost their lives. Our hotel was built subsequently to the disaster. 
 
For dinner we will drag our sorry selves up the beach past the bad egg roll  place to the happy place. John has mastered the art of settling into the sand the back legs of the plastic chairs. If you just sit down, the front legs sink in more deeply than the back, so than you feel like you are in an ejector seat. His skill is essential for beach grazing. 
 
​Another day
The sun is aiming at our room like a giant spotlight, as it prepares to put on its spectacular evening light show. Today was a lost day in a zen way, except for the jewelry designs that are incubating in my dream time. It has grown still now, but earlier there was a steady breeze, which made for delicious relaxation. We walked up the beach for lunch to experience again the crispy super fresh, fried calamari crusted with bits of tiny garlic cloves and pepper. Maybe I don't want to know what they drizzle on top of this squid, but I suspect it is clarified garlic butter that takes on an almost caramelized effect with the crunchy garlic coating. A serving of this costs about $2.75. The music is something like Thai Karaoke Superstars Sing Hits of the 70s. They are pretty good. "Islands in the storm, that is what we are, and we can ride it together uh huh".  "lemon tree wary pretty ". “Puff the Magic Dragon+. Thai people like sweet, bittersweet songs. I like that. 
 
One of our waiters is from Serbia, living with the family that owns the cafe, He is to study Thai for a year. He is unfortunately, about 6'2" and ducks continually under the ridged roof hut where we are eating. His passion is rhythm and blues and 50s music from the South. He spoke passionately about how Jamie Fox expertly played Ray Charles in the movie.  A much older, red faced man sits at the table nearby, nursing a beer while his twenty something wife fidgets her right leg nonstop. He is to her right; her right leg is crossed over her left, her right arm a barricade or fort, stretched across the table.  
 
The sun has set. It is 6:30. Night to all.
 
Another day
Hello everyone,. 
Well, goodbye digging ones feet in the sand while imbibing in beers at the Beach Bar, watching sand dogs dig to China for crabs then flop into their excavations for afternoon naps, goodbye to the subtle snap crack pop of tiny crustaceans tossing over shell shards seeking their minuscule nourishments as the water trickles out to sea at low tide. 
 
Another day
Hi everyone. After a long damned travel day we arrived in Chiang Mai and to our hotel around 10 PM last night.  The report here is brrrrr. Quite oddly and unseasonably it has been raining here and is really cold. Imagine puffed up pigeons clustered in bunches, people wearing hoodies, jackets, scarves, caps and mittens in northern Thailand! We thought we'd be perspiring but nope, shivering. The only transport we could get this morning to the antique silver shop was an open air Tuk Tuk. But still, it is cute here. I scored big with my shopping, scooping up buckets of old, old and vintage treasures. 
 
Another day
Hello All.  We two busy bees buzzed back to the hive in The Big Mango last night. Ahh compared to Chiang Mai, Bangkok is at least 10-12 degrees warmer and not raining at present. We knew we had to buzz off and get back to our little corner of the big city to patch John up in preparation for our long upcoming flights and layover in Seoul. I also retrieved work from my fabricator.  Excited and exciting- cannot wait to get started on my new line of jewelry with diamonds and old, old silver.  Reminds me of the Joan Baez line, “Diamonds and Rust”. 
 
But before we left Chiang Mai I finished my antique jewelry and old coins, ingots buying (excellent!) and we had to eat some gai yang, sticky rice and som tam salad from our favorite place. Of course it is outdoors, only sheltered by a giant tree inhabited by a small family of fat, well fed and easy going large rats. They know a good thing or two, and have no need to bother us.  Part of the "charm" of an outdoor restaurants cohabiting with nature...  Anyway, if you can imagine us each wearing at least 5 layers of clothes- 2 tank tops, a tee shirt, a long sleeved shirt, sweater and shawl for me- still freezing and huddled at a small oil-cloth covered picnic table. The gai yang BBQ chicken had been marinated in garlic and lemongrass, then perfectly grilled over charcoal. The tart, sweet garlicky green papaya salad freshly made, with pieces of long green bean, tomatoes and roasted peanuts. The dipping sauce a sweet and fiery combination of red and green chilies, with palm sugar and fish sauce. It was great. 
 
We returned to our meat locker of a room and hunkered under the covers. No relief as even the bed did not warm. What to do?  Break out the Johnny Walker Black and crank up the iTunes- old Linda Ronstat, Leonard Cohen, Eddy Louiss jazz organ.., this helped greatly!  We bought the last two tickets out of Chiang Mai on the last flight last night. It cost a lot more, but whatever, to get back to the hive.
 
We start the long trip home tomorrow night.
 
I am happy to say today is departure night because I have jewelry to make and ideas that have percolated that must come up for air.  But John is in mourning. Our plane departs shortly before midnight. So goodbye hot pink iridescent cabs, goodbye broom and whisk seller honking a handheld bulb horn and pulling his cart like a hermit crab smothered in utilitarian objects.  Good bye ice cream bicycle cart with cooler box plastered with colorful stickers, goodbye fruit man's cart with fresh mangoes, green mangos with hot chili dipping sauce and sweetest pineapple. Goodbye rich peoples' many thousands of dollars, post-wedding fireworks show from the Peninsula Hotel over the Chaophraya River that jolt us out of bed and remind us that we are returning to the land of fear.  
 
Goodbye my favorite silver sellers and antique jewelry sellers, my dear fabricator, his workers and all that provides bounty for my business in Bangkok. Goodbye lively street action- people coming from or going to work at all hours, eating street food at all hours, sidewalk smoking and gossiping, monks chanting at 4PM from the temple across the street, children singing amplified good morning sings from the Catholic school the next alley over.  So long non-stop activity, an integration of local residents and so many from throughout the world who also love the pink cabs, mango sticky rice and warm, sweet Thai people. 
 
Studio, friends, see you soon. 
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Shopping for antique jewelry elements, Marrakech 2015

10/19/2015

2 Comments

 
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​September 10
We took the dark ’o-thirty flight from Paris to Marrakech. A pre-arranged driver met us at Menara Airport and drove us to the edge of the old walled Medina.  Because of the Medina’s narrow lanes, driving in with a car is more than a challenge. At Bab Laksour, our closest gate, our baggage was transferred from the car onto a charming hand-painted, hand-drawn cart.  We diligently followed our cart man along the cobbled streets with their increasingly narrowing lanes until we reached Palais Lamrani, our "home away from home". We could stay forever in this beautifully renovated 1920s riad!  A young couple from France and their family lovingly restored the old mansion as it had been, but with all the details that make for comfortable modern-day accommodations. 
 
At Palais Lamrani, as you pass through an elegant but rather low key door from the bustling street, you enter into a paradise of a tranquil, dimly lit tile mosaic reception room furnished with antique furniture and original art, textiles and even a Victorian era stuffed peacock (full feather regalia intact)!  Then a few steps later you begin to see the light and leafy shadows of the two-story, open-air courtyard- a mature garden with orange and banana trees, date palms, cut iron work lanterns - magical. The deep verandas and hallways envelope the courtyard.  Two sitting rooms are lavish and elegant in art deco decor. A gleaming grand piano reflects the ornate grillwork of the nearby window, lots of art and history and travel books, antique original paintings - and they trust us with all this!
 
I spent the afternoon shopping for antique jewelry elements. To reach one of my favorite shops takes a bit of time and effort.  There is no quick or easy way to meander through the souks- it is a strictly on foot job.  One has to work hard to avoid a collision with one of the many annoying motor bikes that go whizzing by, or to gawk and walk smack into a hanging haunch of meat in an open-air butcher shop.  Or become entranced by some gorgeous or cute object and consequently, fall into conversation with the shopkeeper (who speaks sufficient business language in 8 tongues and has already spotted you and assessed your native country from a mile away).  You have a much better chance of not getting lost if you have repeated your path multiple times.  And then, if you are not paying attention and you miss a landmark, you can still look up and say, wow- none of this looks familiar.  So many things!  So little time! 
 
Once my amulet and old jewelry elements shopping starts, It is possible to spend a lot in a nano-second and to completely lose track of time!  I kept repeating to myself, look carefully and examine, go slowly and take your time… My saint of a husband grows impatient after several hours, with due reason.  Luckily we were tired from the early hour we had to get up for our flight, so we quit shopping and went back to our beautiful room for a nap. Out of financial danger- for now.  Sensory Overload! ​ Exhausted.
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September 11
Beautiful dinner last night in the dreamy, other-worldly courtyard of our riad.  ​In the morning, we are out again and shopping- which means navigating in, scanning, examining, asking and discussing, sorting and rejecting, choosing and making piles from which to glean and refine for just the best, most interesting pieces.  By the time I have my triple-sorted pile of old coins, a pile of amulets, a pile of old chain elements, and perhaps some coral and old beads, my fingers are filthy, and I am dripping with sweat and feeling poor- having exceeded my budget by three times.  But I am thrilled with what I have found and so excited to start making new things when we get home.  The ideas are coming fast.  I can hardly sleep due to excitement about getting back to work!  Inshallah, as they say so often here- “God Willing”. 
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September 12
The cocktail hour is approaching, as I sit on the little patio and reflect on the day's activities. I have already laid out the day’s loot of jewelry elements, having detailed the costs, made mental notes on what else I might need or what might work with a piece I have in mind, still to hunt out.  
 
We spent the morning in the Mellah, or Jewish quarter to buy Moroccan saffron grown in the Atlas Mountains. Saffron is actually the stamens of a type of crocus- each plant has just a few, so many plants are required to amount to much flavoring. It is actually more expensive than gold, but luckily you don't need a bar of it to make something taste good.  
 
The Mellah is undergoing transformation to restore many of the facades from iron doors to wood and to return much of the quarter to its former appearance.  So sparks are flying while welders work up on rickety scaffolds, piles of gravel and rubble have to be walked around.  This part of the city was and is still known for the jewelry makers and metalsmiths, passementerie embroiderers, and the spice traders. At one time thousands lived here, but the Jewish population is now reduced to around 200 still living in the Mellah. We were told most had moved to Israel.  

The markets were extremely lively today, not as sleepy as yesterday. As you exit the inner sanctum of your hotel riad, you start to pass the many stalls, mini-groceries, mosques, and the many unmarked doors that open into riads with their own courtyards. Here, families live their private lives apart from the hustle, noise and goings-on of the souks just several feet away.  But all is separated by those barriers that demarcate inside from outside, public from private.  
 
Right next to the butcher shop where three fat cats are waiting for their treats, can be found a pierced metal lantern shop, or a colorful leather slipper shop, or… the order seems random, even though there are neighborhoods or streets known for specific trades. The soft, colorful leather slippers (babouche) are to be worn inside the sanctity of the home.  Each pair is colorfully dyed and hand made. They might be turquoise or yellow-embellished with colorful embroidery, sequins or even little tassels. Then next to the slippers might be a stall draped with brilliantly colored, handwoven textiles, or ancient fossils and minerals from the Atlas Mountains and beyond. And of course there are the fresh vegetable stands where small farm growers proudly display little arrangements of eggplants and tomatoes. Another has huge piles of mint stacked on a cloth spread out on the ground.  Some vendors have motorbikes outfitted with wire cages to transport piled layers of eggs dangerously nestled in open-sided, corrugated cardboard.  Another farmer displays his lush, dark purple plums on a bed of lavender-blossomed alfalfa leaves. A casual masterpiece of contrasting colors and textures. 
 
How many miles did we walk today?  All these many sights, sounds and sensory experiences make me drunk with heavenly exhaustion. Saffron and a selection of riotously colored, striped handwoven shawls in hand- mission accomplished for the day. 
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September 13
Everything moves slowly on Sunday mornings. Only the doves seem to be enthusiastically going about their usual cooing and calling business.  Everywhere is peace and calm until about 11AM when the metal shutters start rolling up and motor scooters with shopkeepers start flying into the medina like attack bees.  Shafts of strong sunlight pierce the dark lanes into the souks- so you see nothing but a blinding ray of light and then make out an entire grouping of stalls brilliantly illuminated- vividly colored, gilded souvenir mint tea glasses, tangles of rusting iron and metal jetsam, oversized jars encrusted with faux silver and fake coral, picture frames and ornately studded leather bags... You name it, somebody here is selling it.
 
The call to prayer erupts everywhere, over loud speakers, yet hardly anyone stops what they are doing. The beauty of the overlay of live muezzins chanting from their various mosques fills the air like layers of incense and smoke from the aromatic wood shops. And then as suddenly as the call to prayer started, it is over, until later in the day when the chorus resumes. 
 
Today's mission- to purchase more afore-mentioned, all in one striped shawls/table runners/wall hangings- handwoven in fabulous color combinations that make sense in the untrained but genius design savvy of rural women weavers. Eye candy!  As of today I am glad we hauled along that extra suitcase. 
 
By the time we completed this transaction and I had dirty hands from sorting through a huge container of old silver beads, it was time to head back to the riad. We walked in a relatively new to us direction and did not get lost!  By now, it was quite hot and the once sleepy lanes of the souks were buzzing with activity. Families flaneuring, walking around for a look-about, men exchanging gossip, and plenty of tourists to watch, mostly from France and Spain. 
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September 14
Time to pack up and prepare for departure. Enough time to meet dear friends for lunch and afterwards, get horribly lost in the close heat of the souks before making it back to our riad.  Lists of the few remaining antique jewelry elements I needed are checked off, we settle our bill, scratch together the bits of remaining cash, plan down to the Euro what we absolutely need to get home tomorrow.  So goodbye Marrakech, all you dear people, and see you next year, Inshallah. 
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2 Comments

    Victoria Z Rivers

    Antique Jewelry Design
    ​Professor Emeritas, University of CA  

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