Sleepy or stormy?
Mary Murphy
January 7, 2016
After the hustle that was the souks of Marrakesh, it was a refreshing change to wander about the souks in the medina in Essaouira where
After the hustle that was the souks of Marrakesh, it was a refreshing change to wander about the souks in the medina in Essaouira where
I’d be hard pushed to choose between a day by the sea or a day at the races. So any day that I can have
The Man Who Knew Too Much, Hitchcock’s 1956 thriller, with Doris Day and Jimmy Stewart opens in Marrakesh. Ten years later, in 1966, Our Man in Marrakesh aka Bang!
The High Atlas are something special. Yes, the valleys and the rivers are spectacular and the scenery is jaw-dropping, but it’s the Berber villages that
I wouldn’t think twice about eating from a market stall in Dublin or Budapest or London or anywhere in Europe, but move me to another
I need to learn how to say no. A firm, authoritative, no. One that brooks no argument. It doesn’t need an exclamation mark. Or any
I can sit for hours and watch the world go by, blatantly staring at the teeming masses that flow back and forth as I sit
Way back in the early 1980s, when faced with the choice of moving to Dublin or making the 20-mile commute up and back each day,
What moves those of genius, what inspires their work is not new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has already been said
The cows I’d gotten used to. The dogs, too. But turning a corner and coming face to face with a camel while monkeys cavorted like
