Have leisurely lie-in and wake up at our beautiful riad at 9ish. After fab traditional Moroccan breakfast head into ancient Fez. The oldest living medieval city in the world, the Fez’s medina is a completely indecipherable labyrinth of covered passageways that make you feel like you’re walking around during the time of Mohammed. Turn down a slew of over-eager would-be guides (we were warned that even native Moroccans have a hard time navigating these alleyways) and decide to go it alone. Stumble into spectacular 14th century Koranic school adjacent one of the over 90 mosques in the old city.
Head deeper into the Medina and find amazing strands of tiny colored glass beads we decide to turn into necklaces. A little boy (10 or 11) attached himself to us and announces he will be our guide for the day. I shoo him off at first but he’s persistent. We decide we like his energy and let him be our little navigator. I think of my son Aidan back home – the same age – trying to escort tourists to make some cash for his family. Resolve to bring him back here and teach him a life lesson. Our guide makes his way around like only a kid who grew up running around these souks could. We’re snapping photos nonstop – this place is amazing! Then I notice something even more incredible. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cristina taking a photo of an old woman coming around a bend. As she snaps the picture I see our little Mustafa tuck a coin in her hand. Then I notice he’s been doing this the entire way, pulling coins out of his pocket and handing them out to the people we photograph. My heart dies.
Wake up to breakfast on the terrace and Chris getting us packed ready to go. Sad to be saying goodbye to our little home in Marrakech and our new friends, but excited to make our way to Fez. He warns us that Fez is much more conservative than Marrakech… While Marrakeck is a true African city, Fez is a wholly Arabic and very Islamic.
Wake up to awesome rooftop breakfast of fresh watermelon and prepare for our first traditional hamam treatment in our riad. Go downstairs to the impeccably restored 17th century marble and mosaic hamam, stripped down to nothing, and were laid down naked on warm wooden benches. Covered from head to toe in black Argan oil paste by bath woman who did not speak – English or anything else. Every inch of us scrubbed vigorously by hand with the roughest, most exfoliating mitt I’ve ever felt. Swore I lost a pound of skin. Rinsed off with beautiful copper bowlfulls of warm water poured ovr our heads from massive wooden buckets. Hair caked with desert clay and ENTIRE bodies coated with thick layer of Arabian herbs or “Les herbes de l’Arabe.” Left lying there for a few minutes before being placed in a fabulous marble shower where non-speaking scrubber rinsed our bodies until they were clean and unbelievably shiny. In an effort to capture the complete decadence of the moment, Cristina starts snapping photos of me in the marble shower. Scrubber is horrified but tries best to appear nonchalant. Not only do Muslims not believe in taking photos, but here is a crazed woman shooting a centerfold before her eyes. No doubt the topic of riad gossip for the next week.
Woke up to rooftop breakfast of honeydew, mint tea, Moroccan pastries and preserves. Chris grabs a chair and plops himself down next to us. Asks when we got in last night. We say we have no idea, and he snickers, “It was 3:30″ and asks us what trouble we were up to. We laugh and tell him about the bill, and that celebrities and royalty never carry money so we didn’t feel so bad. He’s horrified but dies laughing. Tells us he loves our energy in Marrakech.
Plane lands in Casablanca and after lengthy immigration line we’re escorted outside to wait for the shuttle bus which will apparently take us to the terminal where we’re to catch our train to Marrakech. Three buses go by and inexplicably do not stop. Actually one stops. And then it leaves without opening its doors. This is how things go here. Finally after waiting almost an hour we decide to walk it. We follow an older Moroccan man who says he can show us the way to get to Terminal 2. Roll heavy suitcases across African highways, jump fences, and arrive at our destination.
Wrapping up whirlwind North African tour with my best friend, partner-in-crime, and all around phenomenal mama Cristina Berusch. We took Morocco by the horns and are both inspired beyond words, returning with a completely new lease on life, work, and everything in between. The trip meant a lot to both of us – it was just as much work as it was play, inspiration, and rejuvenation. After a series of “you-can’t-make-this-stuff-up” moments on our way to Casablanca from New York, we decided to keep a journal of every day of our trip. The adventure was priceless and it will be posted here daily, as we wrote it…
Shout outs to Royal Air Maroc and that crazy wine, ONCF and the chip cart, Yacout, Christoper in Marrakech, Mustafa in Fez, Nafisa & Nass in Tangier, Alex in Casablanca, Mohammed VI and Mudawana, the Call to Prayer, Djemaa el Fna, Reglise and 45 épices, Harira, Djellabas, Mint Tea Madness, Jamie Jones from Madrid, the Strait of Gibraltar, Petit Taxis, Wafacash, “Zero Jeeram”, the Hassan II, stray cats, Allah, and all the donkeys that make every single thing in Morocco possible. As-salaamu ‘alaykum.
Unbelievable 1930′s footage of Havana, Cuba – birthplace of my DNA. It makes me cry black coffee tears to think I missed this era. A TOTAL TOTAL must see.
As I mentally prepare for our annual family trip to Wildwood on the Jersey Shore, I’m remembering how much I really really like carousels. And how much I LOVE carousel horses. I’d have a whole menagerie bolted into the floor in the corner of our living room if my significant other would go for it.
A recent late-night internet rabbit hole took me into the depths of carousel history.
Apparently the first carousels date back to the Byzantine Empire and were used by Turkish and Arabian horsemen for cavalry training. The early carousels had no poles – the “horses” were chained to the ceiling and swung out to the side by the centrifual force of the spinning carousel… And they were powered by real horses! How awesome is that? Almost beats Morey’s Piers. Almost.
I love old industrial cage lighting fixtures and fans. Just purchased a whole bunch for our redesign of the legendary Blue Parrot in East Hampton, set to reopen on Memorial Day weekend. Read more about the Parrot’s fabled history in this sad farewell by Forbes’ James Brady in 2005. After four years, The Blue Parrot reopens with a motley crew of former notorious patrons-turned-investors. So much fun to be able to work on this “Dirty Mexican” project from the ground up! Get the whole story »
Spent a good bit of time in a Turkish Hamam recently. While I’m quite partial to a dry sauna I have to say the Swedes lose this particular design face-off hands down. Modern or ancient, the Turkish Baths are pretty easy on the eyes.
Apparently, at one time the “backscrubbers” who worked in the baths were young boys who doubled as sex workers… and the punishment for a man entering the women’s bathing rooms was death. Slightly more civilized today, you can still get your rocks off looking at some of these arches. The Turks cut a mean ogee.
Pam Bristow is a twelve-year veteran of the Design, Fashion, and Communications industries. She has developed and executed creative solutions for both domestic and international brands in a diverse range of lifestyle categories. Her custom strategies include Concept Development & Ideation, Creative Direction, Interior and Environmental Design, Communications Strategies, Custom Publishing Projects, Strategic Collaborations, and Special Event Design.
A master “placemaker”, Pam has been creating and curating unforgettable, concept-driven environments and “jewel box” experiences for clients in the fashion, lifestyle, art, retail, and hospitality industries for over a decade.
Pam has a personal affinity for both emerging and established creative talent and has a proven history of success in the delicate marriage of art and commerce. Her area of expertise is in the creation of unique, culturally attuned, and highly tailored communications products that resonate with global tastemakers.
