I wasn’t sure how to title this month’s post because I have many thoughts swirling through my mind. The other day, I was watching a documentary about people riding motorcycles around the world, and it got me thinking about roads and pathways. As I crossed a street, I felt the urge to kneel down and splay my hand out onto the ground, as if I could feel all the places and people it connected. In that moment, I experienced a sense of wonder, contemplating how this very ordinary road I touched leads to so many destinations, from the bottom tip of South America to the farthest reaches of Canada. Perhaps I am longing for an adventure like the journey I followed in that documentary, or simply recognizing how connected we are by roads. J.R.R. Tolkien's book, The Fellowship of the Ring, comes to mind, where Bilbo Baggins says to Frodo Baggins, “It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and there is no telling where you might be swept off to.”
This month, my great uncle passed away at the age of 95. He always encouraged me to make art, as he too enjoyed painting and collecting it. When I was very young, he nicknamed me "Sunshine," sarcastically, because my personality was more like storm clouds and rain. I’m grateful for his persistence and encouragement when I needed to hear it. It became hard to keep up with him in his later years, especially after my daughter was born; there’s never enough time or patience. I’m trying to keep that in mind now that I’m 50. I’m lucky to have what I have, to be in good health, and I’m striving to live more in the moment while narrowing down what I hold onto and what I reach for.
I mentioned the connectedness of roads, and the passing of my great uncle also makes me think about our connectedness on life’s pathways. The older you get, the more you see people come and go in your life—not just through death, but simply because that’s life. Meeting and parting ways, knowing that not everyone will be a part of your life every day, is a part of this journey. Just like that moment I had touching the ground, I can now reflect on all the individuals I’ve connected with, many of whom I will likely never see again. Some of these interactions were just a spark in the grand scheme of time, yet they still had a lasting impact on me.
One example is the time I went backcountry hiking in the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco with my husband. We signed up for a five-day excursion where we would hike in the river valley of Berber territory with a local guide and two porters. When we met our guide, he didn’t speak any English, and outside of speaking Arabic and Berber, he was primarily fluent in French, with a little bit of Spanish. At first, we thought this might hinder our experience, but my husband knew a little French, and with lots of gestures and patience, we were able to have a great time. I don’t know if it was because we were younger tourists (we were 24 years old), but our guides were very playful and interactive with us. We would pass other trekking groups, most of whom were older European tourists in larger groups. It was just Tony and me with the three guides, and I can recall a moment when we camped near another tour group. We had a nightly tradition of playing a game of Uno after dinner, and that night, we had all the other guides and porters joining us to play.
Another fond memory is when we were wading through waist-deep water in a river. Youseff turned and looked at me, motioning for me to put my camera into my plastic bag before moving forward. I assumed we were going into deeper water and did what he said. He watched until the camera was completely sealed in the bag before he turned, took two steps, and then said in French, “Oh no, Hassan and Aisha, the rapids are going to get you!” He then proceeded to dip his arms into the river, splash us, and a water fight ensued. We were all soaked when we got to shore, but with the dry, arid climate, it didn’t take long to dry off. That five-day trek is actually one of my favorite travel memories, and I remember crying as the bus pulled away when it was time to say goodbye. We still receive a message from Youseff every New Year’s Day. His messages are short, but it’s great that he still reaches out after all these years. Maybe we had a lasting impact on him as well.
-love and light
The following pictures are from our hiking excursion in the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco in 2004.
Image 1- Campsite near a Berber village. Larger tent was the dining tent/ supply tent. Two smaller tents, one for me and Tony and the other for Youseff. The porters Mohammed and Said slept in the dining tent. We had two pack mules as well.
Image 2- Youssef showing us traditional Berber wear for men. Maybe part of a wedding costume.
Image 3- Tony with Mohammed after Mohammed showed Tony how to wear traditional head wrapping.
Image 4- Our nightly Uno Game, played with Spanish rules. I need to also mention that while traveling with them and with our mild language and cultural barriers Youssef gave us new names that would be easier for all of them to remember. I was Aisha and Tony was Hassan.
Image 5- Youssef walks ahead of us through the Ourika River. He would often be singing to himself while walking as we followed behind him. Mohammed and Said would stay on an upper trail with the pack mules and would meet back up with us at the camp spot of the night. We had one day where the mules got away when we needed to leave and because it took so long to get them back they had Tony and I ride on them to make up for the lost time we needed to hike it. Youssef was quick enough to hike on foot without a mule to ride.
Image 6- This was right after the water fight in the river with Youssef. Pictured left to right, Said who did most of the food prep and cooking. Mohammed porter and all around helper and Youssef our beloved guide. All were and I hope still are incredible humans. This was at a time when people in the USA were becoming fearful of Muslim people but out of the many countries we have traveled we both agree that they have been the most genuine and kind hearted.
