Tag: Morocco

Escaping to Morocco, via the Magic Carpet of Memory: COVID-19 Isolation, Day 62 (I Think)

May 4, 2020

Once upon a time, I lived in Rabat, one of Morocco’s four imperial cities, an ancient place with origins dating to at least the 12th century. The old city – the medina – perches on a rocky point, sided by the Wadi Bou Regreg and the Atlantic Ocean. Across a bridge sits Salé, settled first … More Escaping to Morocco, via the Magic Carpet of Memory: COVID-19 Isolation, Day 62 (I Think)

In the Scent of Cinnamon, a Whiff of Medieval Humoral Theory

April 9, 2019

Purple bougainvillea flowers hung thick and rope-like over the sand-colored walls, their little white hearts nearly pulsating in the blazing noon heat of Rabat, Morocco. The door of The English Bookshop stood half-opened. The stern English proprietor stood behind the counter, his thin pale fingers reaching into scuffed cardboard boxes, filled with the newest shipment of books … More In the Scent of Cinnamon, a Whiff of Medieval Humoral Theory

Gleaning the Lessons of Wandering

July 17, 2015

This summer is different from all other summers. This summer I’m signed up for a weekly basket of local, organic vegetables from the rented land of some starry-eyed young farmers. And this week’s bounty included four cucumbers ranging from Lou Costello plumpness to Bud Abbott skinniness, six carrots resembling the clown-twisted balloons available at all … More Gleaning the Lessons of Wandering

Memories are Made of This

August 25, 2013

Just a picture, in memory of my brother-in-law, who passed away August 23, 2013. Rollo Taylor, a giant of a human being. “The world is a great book, of which they that never stir from home read only a page.” St. Augustine (354-430) (Augustine of Hippo) © 2013 C. Bertelsen

* A Cuisine Created by Slave Women: A Review of Kitty Morse’s Mint Tea and Minarets, and a Brief Word about Dadas**

January 8, 2013

Dealing with the death of beloved parents takes a great toll on people, leading them on journeys of self-discovery often not possible while parents still live and breathe and exert influence on their adult child’s life. Rarely does settling up an inheritance take sixteen years of patience and hair-pulling, constantly reminding the bereaved of their … More * A Cuisine Created by Slave Women: A Review of Kitty Morse’s Mint Tea and Minarets, and a Brief Word about Dadas**