Warm and Toasty

I thought a nice, warm picture from Ireland was in order to counteract the cold, snowy ones I posted the other day. This is the new Stanley cooker at the farm, and isn't it a beauty? Gosh, I love it. I resisted as long as I could, then, much to everyone's amusement, I started taking pictures of it. Nevermind the people we hadn't seen for a year, look at that stove! ;-)

Today my mom chose the winner of my ornament variation contest. Mags, your suggestion to add a bit of glitter to the edges was her favorite! Congratulations! If I weren't so lazy, it would have been fun to make a few and show the winner rather than name the winner, but I don't have any glitter, and it's cold outside, so this will have to do!

Snow was general all over Ireland.

We're back from this year's trip to Ireland! I don't have too many pictures to show, because I felt like I'd already taken so many of the pictures I wanted to take on previous trips, but there was one new thing this time around:

Snow. Lots of it. And what weird snow! It's like a giant beanbag chair erupted and spilled millions and millions of styrofoam pellets from the sky. (Not the most poetic imagery, but the best description I can come up with.) The little pellets stay separate until you squash them together...then they make the best snowballs ever!

We've never seen Ireland like this before. Flurries, yes, but nothing close to this. Schools were closed, the airport was closed, buses were running sporadically.

Still, with a little caution, we managed to do almost everything we wanted to do.

We wouldn't miss our fish and chips for anything in the world!

Hammam, Part Two

Yesterday when I left you, we were on our way to the neighborhood hammam. I should back up, though, and talk about this container full of goop. Whether or not I made it to a hammam, I wanted to try this olive oil soap called sabon beldi and the magical scrubbing mitt or kiis.

It's very gooey.

Very, very gooey.

I bought my tub of soap earlier that day in the Souk el Attarine, which is where most of the perfume-type vendors are located. Each little shop had a little pile of this stuff out front from which they'd fill the jars. We also bought a chunk of frankincense, some kind of sandalwood perfume, and a little myrrh for about $15. Good deal? I have no idea!

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The mitts I saw in the neighborhood shops and the souks were all similar to the one in the picture--bright colors and not very attractive. I kept looking for one that wasn't so gaudy, to no avail. I finally bought a plain white one at the Marjane hypermart on the outskirts of the city. You'll see how well that went in just a minute.

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SO...we all walked to the hammam: me, Gerry, and Adam from the riad. Once we got there, Adam shouted down the hallway of the ladies' side and a woman came out to see what he wanted. After a bit of discussion, he told me I was all set and to go along with her. I knew from my reading that she was a tayeba, the attendant who would be scrubbing me. (!!) I told Gerry "good luck" and went in.

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First thing I did was pay my 10 dh entry fee, which is about a dollar, at a little window set into the wall of the entryway. I don't know this for sure, but I suspect the same person has a little window on the other side where the men pay their entry fee.

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Down the hall and around the corner, I could feel it getting warmer. We came to a spot with a dressing area to one side, with shelves and hooks straight ahead. The attendant motioned for me to get undressed, so I took a deep breath and disrobed down to my underpants. Meanwhile, she was doing the same, hanging her clothes on the hooks and changing into what I guess were her "working" underpants. At this point, I admit, I was thinking, "What the HECK am I doing standing here in my underwear in Marrakech?" so I busied myself with folding my clothes, trying to seem like this was something I did all the time. Finally, she came over and started looking through my bag to see what I'd brought with me. I had the soap, little bottles of shampoo and conditioner, my towel, the wash mitt I'd purchased earlier, a comb, my wallet, and a spare pair of underwear. She put the towel and underwear on the shelf with my clothes, gave the wallet to the woman guarding the shelves, and then she pulled out the wash mitt. Well. Apparently I had purchased an inferior wash mitt, because she made a face, said something that sounded like "Bah!" and tossed that on the pile with my clothes. She went and got her own, superior wash mitt and motioned for me to follow her.

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I should probably pause here to say a few words about my tayeba. She was on the short side, kind of squat, very smiley, and I can only describe her as motherly. Once we got into the bathing rooms and I gave myself over to her, I felt very comfortable.

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The atmosphere in the hammam was very relaxing. The rooms were by no means fancy--just tiled walls, with small windows set high in the walls. It was very hot and steamy, and the light was dim. The smell of olive oil soap was strong. Although it was an older hammam, everything seemed very clean.

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My hammam-mother (that's how I've been thinking of her) led me to a spot in a room with one other woman. She sat me down and went off to fill buckets with water which she then pushed across the floor to me. I sat sneaking peeks at the other bather, who, I have to say, was a gorgeous young girl. After mixing hot and cold water to a good temperature, she wet me down by scooping water from the buckets, then she dipped out a handful of black soap and showed me how to scrub down with it. Happy to have something to do, I threw myself into smearing myself with goop while she went to refill the buckets with more hot water.

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The next twenty minutes or so was spent on scrubbing. First she had me lay down with my head resting on her thigh and scrubbed my upper half with the kiis. At one point, she took my hand and had me feel the skin that was coming off on my stomach. Let me assure you, never before have I been exfoliated like this! I looked up at her with a surprised look and probably said something like "Wow!" She smiled and nodded and went back at it.

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Next, she sat me up and scrubbed my back (heavenly) and face, then she manuevered me into position to do my legs and feet. This had the potential to be the most uncomfortable part of the experience, as I was basically straddling her, but she was my buddy by then.

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After a good rinse from the buckets, she started rummaging in my bag, looking for something. I guessed she was looking for shampoo, so I pulled out the bottle and pointed at my head. Yep, that's what she wanted! Getting my hair washed is always a treat, but this woman really knew what she was doing. All that scrubbing must result in strong fingers, because my scalp was a-tingle. Then she combed my hair out, dumped a whole bucket of water over my head (which made us both laugh), and washed it again.

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After a final bucket of water over my head, she stood up and handed me my towels, so I knew I was done. The other attendant handed me my things, and I headed for the benches in the changing area. Another thing I'd learned from my reading was that you should not go outside with a wet head in Morocco, so I made sure I wrapped my hair up in a towel before I left. All that was left was to tip the attendants (about $4 for the tayeba and 50 cents for the one who watched my things), offer my thanks, and say my goodbyes.

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As I emerged from the hammam, Gerry was waiting for me outside the door. We were oddly quiet on the way back to the riad, I think because we were both so relaxed and a little awed by the experience. We are both SO glad we swallowed all our misgivings and went ahead and did it. In fact, I've been dragging my feet on writing about the experience, because I wasn't sure I could do it justice. There was something...spiritual...about it. I'll leave it at that. :)

Hammam, Part One

Usually, when we go on a trip, I don't do a whole lot of research ahead of time. I'd rather just get there and try to meld into the place and see what we stumble across. But with Marrakech, the short amount of time we were going to be there combined with our utter unfamiliarity with the culture led me to do a bunch of reading beforehand. I wanted to hit the ground running, so I read everything I could get my hands on at the library and spent hours reading entries at tripadvisor.

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One thing that really intrigued me were the descriptions of the hammam or public bath. It sounded so interesting and authentic, so unlike anything I've ever done...but would I be brave enough to walk into one, take off my clothes, and let someone scrub me like I've never been scrubbed before? And could I convince my husband to do it too?

Keep in mind is that there are different types of hammams, everything from the humble neighborhood bath where the locals go to full-on luxury spas located in the big hotels where you can go as a couple and get fancy facials while wrapped in fluffy towels. Gerry and I decided to aim for somewhere in the middle. We wanted somewhere semi-authentic, but tourist-friendly.

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But then there was just so much to do, it didn't look like we were going to have time. Hmm. Or was I just telling myself that because I was intimidated? I knew the answer to that: I was scared to death!

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Well, I didn't like that one bit. I was finally in Morocco, this was something I really wanted to do, and who knew if I'd ever be back? "Gerry," I said, "let's talk to Adam [the owner of the riad] about going to a hammam." And so we did. Adam was ready with the name of a lovely place, the kind of place we had in mind. But then, as I was looking through the brochure, I was thinking, "A brochure? Do I want to go somewhere with a brochure?" No. So we went back to Adam and asked, "What about the hammam we passed in the neighborhood? Could we go there?"

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Adam=awesome. He conferred with one of the riad's housekeepers, and they decided the best time for us to go would be right after sundown. It was the first night of Ramadan, so this would be a quiet time. Then he made sure we had the change we needed for admission and tips, and off we went.

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The entrance to the women's side.

The doorway to the men's side is on the left.

Curious about what happened inside? Come back tomorrow to find out!

What I Drag Home on My Summer Vacations

Soap.

In fact, I don't think we've had an American bar of soap in this house since...

well, not for a long time.

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Taous from Morocco

La Toja and Heno de Pravia from Spain

Spuma di Sciampagna and Marsiglia from Italy

Monsavon au Lait and Le Chat from France

Magno from Spain

Imperial Leather from Ireland--with the magical little sticker that never comes off!

It's one of my favorite souvenirs.

It's small, cheap, useful, consumable, and it's not fragile.

And when it's time to choose a new bar for the tub, we get to remember where we've been!

Moroccan Cuisine

After dropping off our things at the riad, we headed to Djemaa el Fna. Of course we did. Read anything about Marrakech, and it's inevitable they'll mention this famous square.

If there was anything my husband was looking forward to on this trip, it was the food stalls at D-e-F. I wanted to go shopping in the souks, he wanted to eat goat head. Well, he never did get around to the goat head, but he sampled a few things that first night as we wandered through the rows of stalls which sprout up every night. One thing he was told not to miss: snails, shown above.

Because rows of virtually identical stalls are arranged side by side, the vendors relentlessly try to engage you. Menus are thrust in front of you as you pass, and shouts of "Excuse me!" or "Do you know Jamie Oliver?" ring out from every direction. Jamie did indeed visit Marrakech:

In the end it wasn't a menu, an invitation, or an inquiry about my nationality that got my attention. It was french fries.

As we walked past this stall, the proprietor was emptying basket after basket of freshly cooked fries into a bowl. I had my tush on his bench in an instant.

As it turns out, it was sort of the Moroccan version of a fish and chips shop. Okay, maybe I was just starving, being fresh off the plane and beside myself with excitement about finally being in Marrakech, but...

...those fries were delicious. Freshy cut, piping hot, generously salted. That's my kind of Moroccan cuisine.

Speaking of Moroccan cuisine, a special thanks to the two wonderful ladies at the riad who keep the place sparkling clean and whip up the fabulous meals, Oumhani and Zakia.

Riad Slawi

I have to admit, as much as I wanted to travel somewhere new and different, I was a little hesitant to book our trip to Marrakech. Would it be hard to get around? Where would we stay? How would we function without speaking the language? And then I found Riad Slawi on Trip Advisor.
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The glowing reviews of the riad and the personal anecdotes people shared about the helpfulness of its owner, Adam, reassured me and convinced me to go forward with my plans.

Riad Slawi lived up to our expectations. It is a beautiful and very comfortable guesthouse. Adam was extremely helpful with information about the city, including guidance on things like how much to pay for a taxi ride. He never made us feel like we were asking dumb questions, although I think sometimes maybe we were! Adam seems to have a talent for adjusting to the needs of his guests.

We were served breakfast in the courtyard each morning. One day it was a variation on pancakes called msemen. Oh, they were good! We were visited by a few small birds, hoping for a taste of breakfast.

The riad was spotlessly clean, which must be a trick to pull off, considering it's built around that open courtyard. I wouldn't want the job of keeping it clean, but what a wonderful thing, to have an outdoor space like that!



Thank you to everyone at Riad Slawi. Add us to your chorus of fans!

Welcome to Marrakech

Okay! Time to talk about our vacation from our vacation: Marrakech!

Our plan was to spend a relaxing week on the Costa Blanca in Spain, but the call of Morocco was too much for me, and I ended up planning a short visit to Marrakech in the middle of the week. Have you ever packed up and gone on a trip when you're already away somewhere? It's very weird!

We arrived in Marrakech at about 6:30 pm. I took the photo up top on the tarmac at the airport. I think we were already sensing that there was something very different about where we were. It was hot, about 111 degrees, but with very little humidity--not the kind of heat we're used to!

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After making our way through immigration, we headed towards the exit to find our taxi driver. There weren't too many drivers with signs, and we didn't see him at first. I was starting to think, "Oh boy, he isn't here. What are we going to do?" but then I spotted him and felt a huge sense of relief!

He led us outside to a parking lot FILLED with taxis. There are two kind of taxis in Marrakech: grand and petit. We relied on the petit taxis to take us everywhere, as we had limited time. As long as you have an idea of how much a trip should cost and agree upon a price with the driver ahead of time, this is an easy option.

The airport, shown in the picture above, is beautiful. I didn't get the greatest picture, but it's made up of lacy panels, and the effect with the sun shining through them is lovely. Googling images of the airport brings up some wonderful shots such as this one.

And then we were off! Wow. Just wow. I wanted something different, and this was certainly that. The architecture, the clothes, the plants...it was like the atmosphere itself was different. And traffic was crazy. Taxis, bicycles, scooters, the occasional donkey cart--just weaving in, out, and around with seemingly no rules. I turned to Gerry and said, "My eyes are on sticks!" That would continue throughout the visit. I didn't want to miss anything and didn't know where to look.

Tomorrow I'll show you where we stayed.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Just wait 'til you see what I did on my vacation from my summer vacation.

Getting Dressed

The last time we were at the beach, I just took a tee shirt to pull on over my swimsuit. It was a regular tee, not a huge oversized version, and I found myself feeling really exposed walking through town dressed like that. With this in mind, I decided my next vacation sewing project needed to be a beach cover up.

[Fighting hard not to make a self-deprecating remark about my pale legs. I'm always bothered that people preach against the dangers of sun exposure, yet everyone seems to get some color in the summer.]

As usual, I dug out every pattern that might work. I had vintage styles, voluminous muumuus, sundresses, and wraps, but I couldn't seem to come up with a fabric/pattern combination I was happy with. Then Simplicity patterns went on sale, so I succumbed to the siren song of JoAnn's, and came home with Simplicity 2363 and Simplicity 2702. Both pull on over the head; both have pockets; and both use about 2.5 yards of fabric, which is generally the amount I buy when I'm just buying fabric with no particular project in mind.

Even though I never wear sleeveless, I thought the sleeveless version of 2702 would do as a cover up. Much rummaging later, I emerged with one of my prize lengths of fabric: a lightweight printed cotton brought back from India by a friend. (She is going to be so surprised--I finally used it!)

Commence pattern layout...you know, maybe sleeveless isn't such a good idea. Sure, it would be okay for the beach, but I'd get more versatility out of it if I added sleeves. Hmm...maybe I could even pair it with those pants I made and wear it as a kind of tunic. Versatility=good thing when packing for vacation.

This was a lovely pattern to sew. Unlike some other reviews I read, I didn't find the sizing to be off. I chose a size based on chest measurement, and I am happy with the fit there. I took about three inches off the bottom, because I thought that looked better with the pants, and I moved the ties down about an inch. I really like how the "bib" part in the front is made of two pieces. I usually have trouble getting that kind of neckline to work correctly. I don't know the official name for ithat, but you know the type: You're supposed to sew the V, then cut to the dot, etc. Mine always come out with a little pucker. This eliminates all that rigamarole entirely.

So this is going into the suitcase. I can wear it different ways, it packs light, and it dries quickly. It's a good thing. --wink--

America's Next Top Model

As promised, here are pictures of Gerry modeling the Frankenpants! I thought, "A HA! The tables are turned! Now he'll see how weird it feels to pose for pictures in the things I've sewn!" But, no. He took to it like a duck to water. Figures.

Frankenpants

Okay, no excuses. I've been slacking. I've just now, three weeks later, finished the project I started early in the month: Frankenpants!





My husband, Gerry, had been shopping for a pair of lightweight pants to wear on vacation. He'd been contemplating some options online, but when he saw the pair of linen pants I'd made for myself, he realized I could probably make him a pair as well. He asked for a few more details: front and back pockets, cargo pockets, and a fly.


I started by looking through my stash of patterns and found Butterick 6885, which includes a pair of drawstring pajama pants with a fly. I figured I could work with that, but JoAnn's had Simplicity patterns on sale for $1.99 right then, so I headed up there to see if they had anything better. One of their patterns for scrubs looked promising, but it was out of stock, so I kept looking. Finally I decided to buy Simpllicity 5581 and use the pocket pieces to turn those pajama pants into cargo pants.

I also added a little more hardware (three buttons instead of one and some D-rings) and back pockets which close with velcro. For the waist, I used my favorite technique from Simplicity 7092 which combines elastic with a drawstring. Although I had some fabric in my stash which might have worked, I bought this lightweight ripstop cotton for 60% off. I spent about $16 to make these, including the fabric, thread, buttons, D-rings, and extra pattern.

Ger is not around right now to pose for photos, but I will certainly share some when I get a chance! I'm so pleased with how they turned out, I want to add some pockets to MY pair now!

Destination

I guess it wasn't too hard to figure out that the clothes are for a trip and the destination is... MARRAKECH! I have dreamed about going to Morocco since I was a teen, when a spread in Seventeen magazine was set there and featured all these exotic clothes in beautiful shades of blue. I wish I could find a copy of that magazine.

We are actually spending most of our time in Spain, but the proximity to Morocco proved too tempting this time, and I started to investigate a little side trip. Thanks to some very inexpensive plane tickets and a well-recommended place to stay, we decided to take the plunge!