Moroccan Tea Memories
If I wrote about everything in my daily life that reminds me of travel, it would be impossible, and you would think I was absolutely crazy. Almost every moment of my waking existence are thoughts about travel. For example, every time it rains here in Chicago, like today, I think about the places in the world that I have been rained on. In Istanbul it was absolutely pouring when Carla and I got out of the cab from visiting the Chora Museum. We ran like hell for cover, and because it was a deluge we were soaked within an instant. We laughed our hearts out, and although I ruined my white pants, I was thankful for the everlasting memories of that day being drenched in the Istanbul rain. Then in Rome, when I was walking with my umbrella in hand while it just started to rain lightly, I cried at the spectacular beauty surrounding me while walking along The Forum because I could not believe I was actually in Rome! Also, in Florence by the Ponte Vecchio bridge, it rained really hard but I did not have a care in the world. I made the best of it by finding a cafe nearby as I sipped on a beautiful glass of Montepulciano while sitting outside under an awning while listening to the Italian rain drops fall. I truly experienced what “music to my ears” meant that night as I listened and watched the world go by.
And on and on my mind goes. I link almost everything in my waking life to travel, and this morning I was made to ache for Morocco. I bought a new kind of tea, and when I was preparing it, my mind and my spirit instantly went back to Morocco. After every meal when I was staying in Safia’s house, we were served tea in her beautiful veranda overlooking the green grass and the palm trees. Every day was sunny and beautiful, and every tea moment was a guilty pleasure, especially because I wasn’t used to servants tending to our every wish and need. The Moroccan tea was served with a pretty linen napkin wrapped around the handle of the silver tea decanter, with pretty cookies on pretty plates, with pretty colorful tea cups. Some jasmine flowers were often served to flavor the tea, and I can still smell and taste its wonderful aroma along with the fresh mint smell of the Moroccan tea. While the maids served us with a gentle synchronicity weaving in and out of the veranda, I felt like a true royalty!
While my mind and body are back in Chicago as I sip my tea, my spirit is still in Morocco…and Istanbul…and Rome…and Florence. I wish to be traveling the world again making wonderful memories. But of course, my upcoming travel days will never be soon enough…
