Sunday, 28 August 2011


when i put my hand on the back of my neck i can still feel the moroccan sun. it's red, dry, and feverishly hot. maybe i was sunburnt and that is my souvenir.

i took my camera out for only one day in morocco, to ourika valley. we climbed mountains to reach the waterfall, where locals and tourists cooled down and danced around. there was an incredibly adorable boy (in the purple t-shirt and smile) who completely stole my heart, we talked in minimal english and french, which was token to the point where i still don't know whether he is from france or the netherlands. i think he said he was seven. on the bus ride back to the city he moved his baba's bag so he could sit next to me across the aisle, my heart pretty much melted.

marrakech is full of people and travellers, the food is delicious and cheap. i really liked bread rolls with fillings of egg, rice, and olives and onions, they are so good to eat for supper. breakfast was amazing and i really can't begin to describe what i ate every morning because i might break down and cry at its awesomeness. there was also a stand by a busy street that sold the thickest smoothies, blended from lots of fruit and little milk, it would come in a huge dirty jug, but no one minded, because it would be the yummiest thing you have ever tasted, and only 50 cents.

i guess that's it, you can tell these people live on very little, but their hearts are far from small. that's what i loved most about this place. other's happiness became my own, and the place calmed me.

on my last morning, i climbed the stairs to the roof of the riad and nestled myself on a sofa under the open air, it was dark but stars decorated the sky, in the distance the koutoubia mosque shone and blanketed the medina in a thin layer of golden light. i wanted to freeze time in this ancient red city. i was so far away from all i knew, i began forgetting things.

when i was a child i moved around a lot, at least once a year, to a new city always, and before going i would cry to the people i am leaving, why are you sending me away. but when you are young, you grow and flourish where ever you are planted. whenever i would arrive at my next destination, i would talk the way these new strangers did, forgetting the old dialect i spoke in, play the same games these new friends did, and forget the names of those i spent months with.

you create a new future because it is the innate way for you to survive, and you begin to forget life before hand, as if life had only begun in this new place. that was how morocco was starting to make me feel, it captivated me, and i had spent so much time being immersed in another world that priorities began unconsciously shuffling.

but i couldn't freeze time. the moon was soon pushed away by the rising sun, and i headed downstairs to leave.

now it is all just a warm memory in my mind, and i hope dearly it stays.

Friday, 26 August 2011

Thursday, 25 August 2011

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

postcards from italy

many times i thought i was in a dream. surely no place can be this beautiful — over and over again.

my body turned to a light, feather-like cloud each time the air (thin as it was) vacuumed into my lungs. and the stillness of the landscape made everything look as flat as cardboard. i thought if my arms reached out far enough, i could rip each scene off the wall.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Monday, 15 August 2011

Sunday, 14 August 2011

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

lost in the post

i have always liked traveling by myself, you arrive as you can, go as you please, yet the places you feel most alone, are always the cities with many others. i liked my time in berlin and barcelona, because i could feel the culture and sense of community on my skin even as an outsider. but in london, the only thing i felt connected to was the tate modern, and in madrid it was the reina sofia. the cities were a giant silhouette to me otherwise. oh bagels from a bakery called beigel in london, i went there twice a day every day it became a little creepy.

the places i fell in love with, would have to be italy, portugal, brittany in france, and morocco. more photographs to come i promise. here are the very few photos i took of passing cities.


beautiful berlin is your name from now on, because in the words of sinéad o'connor, nothing compares 2u... uuuuuuuuu. it feels though all the congenial forces in the world gather and bake cakes from rainbows in berlin. i would return here in a heartbeat and plane ticket.


copenhagen is like an elegant, perfect, rich cousin that everyone wish they could visit so they can play with all her dolls and stroll in her gardens, and maybe speak to her. but the price they need to pay to reach her glorious castle is too much... for a travelling student, anyway. and even when you do finally make it, you realise you never liked dolls in the first place.


i almost cried at my incompetence of not being able to buy a bus ticket from a machine for half an hour. i had to take a long walk, clear my head, eat a bounty bar before the epitomist steps of how to buy a ticket in the czech language came to me. the city is breath taking nonetheless.


sugar and spice and all things nice.


apologies for the obligational eiffel tower photo, this place kind of broke my heart. i will come back and see you again, properly perhaps.


i turned 21 in barcelona. i kept forgetting my birthday, nothing unusual. below is fruit from la boqueria market, the place is wonderful, fresh juice, candy, happiness... and with it you travel to sit on the longest park bench in the world designed by the craziest architect ever, looking over barcelona in its entirety, and the feeling becomes pretty euphoric.