My whirlwind adventures to places outside the London city borders continues. I'll begin first with a wonderful day southeast of London in Windsor and Eton with friend Julia.

There is, of course, the castle, the sometimes weekend home of the Queen (who happened to be in residence when we visited), and a whole lot more.

We started at The Crooked House, a lovely little coffee house built in 1592 that sits next door to Guild Hall where Camilla and Charles were married. Apparently it gets its famous tilt from being built with rather green wood; I can tell you that while the exterior has a decidedly obvious tilt, the interior has level stairs and a lovely view of the high street. Julia and I decided we needed to firm up our day over a hot chocolate and good conversation. Plans set, we would visit the castle, the chapel, and, if the weather held up, perhaps a boat ride along the Thames.

We started first at St George's Chapel, built starting in 1475 by Edward IV and completed in 1525 by Henry VIII. The medieval architecture is lovely; it appears, at least to me, deceptively small on the outside. Inside it is narrow and vast. There are ten monarchs buried there, including Henry VIII and the his wife Jane Seymour (the one between the two Annes). The Queen Mum, who passed away in 2002, is also interred there. I must say, there was something quite overwhelming about standing in front of those graves. Having seen the birthplace of Henry VIII when visiting Greenwich in London, I had come full circle with seeing his grave . . . the history of England, these buildings dating back ages, well, it’s got the wow factor to the nth degree.

(Speaking of history--LOL--Jonathan Rhys Meyers, my Henry VIII obsession, has a history of rehab for alcohol addiction. He has just recently (March) checked out, so says the NY Daily News.)

About Windsor Castle, our next stop: it was first built from timber on a hill overlooking the Thames by William the Conqueror, following his invasion of England in 1066. (As you would suspect, it was later rebuilt in stone.)

The first “attraction” as you enter the castle: Queen Mary's Dolls' House. It was built on a scale of 1:12, and actually has working lifts, running water and electricity. Amazing, eh? It took 1500 craftsmen three years to complete. This is all true: the carpets, curtains and furnishings are all copies of the real thing. The bathrooms have plumbing, including a flushable toilet and toilet paper. Writers Rudyard Kipling and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote special books which were written and bound in scale and painters provided miniature pictures. Heck, even the wine cellar is filled with the wines and spirits of the real thing. The question in my mind is, did Queen Mary ever play with this three-foot high structure filled with miniatures?

Several of the state rooms were open for display--opulent in colour, art, furniture and fixtures, I walked through thinking that this royal family has a great deal of wealth--Rubens and Van Dyck graced several walls, and various gilt and silver, china, armour and weapons adorned each of the rooms Julia and I walked through. Some were more lovely than others; the simpler rooms, with long, narrow windows and sparse furnishings, were the most lovely.

Pause: the armour on display had Julia and me comparing our height and concluding that men in the time of wearing it were quite small! Not necessarily a bad thing, but how interesting that we’ve become a physically taller people in the centuries that followed.

Time for lunch--Julia chose a lovely venue in the Harte and Garter Hotel where we were given a window seat to watch the Windsor shoppers and tourists stroll by. The food was delicious--I had the cod, and Julia tried the pasta special. We both decided to have a glass of wine to complement the food and conversation. We laughed as the weather turned a bit wild and everyone scattered when the grey clouds suddenly showered the area with heavy drops, and we decided to stay for a coffee until the weather turned a bit more amenable to continuing our walk. Naturally the conversation was the best part of lunch--while Julia and I both work at the same office, we rarely get the chance to catch up, and it was wonderful to talk family, friends, and a little “shop.”

Perfectly sated and with the weather clearing, it was off across the Thames to Eton, to admire the famous college and stroll the high street. While stores were all open and competing for tourists in Windsor, Eton High Street was relatively quiet and many shops were closed . . . still a lovely walk, though not many places to duck into and admire! We did have a fit of hail as we headed back to Windsor, though it was brief and made us laugh as moments before it was sunny (though very gusty) and moments later the sun was peeking out again! The change in weather sealed the deal to take a short boat ride to get a different perspective of Windsor Castle--from the water. There is actually something more majestic and commanding about seeing it from that view rather than catching glimpses of it amid the shops or even upon approaching it on the level ground from the rail station.

A warm hug at the train station and Julia was off to see her daughter (who lives nearby) and I was heading back to Central London, just under an hour away.

Sunday that same weekend found me entertaining--tea at the flat for Jyoti and Lubo, her fiancée. Jyoti has been wanting to meet Mirepoix, and I joked that I needed to approve of this man in her life, and so a date was made. I am waiting on the several photos Jyoti took of me and the Girly-Girl, and in between Lubo and I chatted about the recession, the US, immigration, and life in general. I must say it was rather fun to have visitors; I’ve decided I should entertain more. This is quite a lovely flat, though I have been having thoughts of moving to a smaller, less expensive place should my contract gets renewed (stay tuned).

The title of this post alluded to near AND far--the latter being a short hop, actually, (just three hours) to North Africa and the amazing city of Marrakech. Friends, do put this city in your list of places to visit, and you must stay within the walls of the old fortified city (the medina). The maze of alleys and narrow roads filled with small shops and leading to the square (or parts unknown) is what makes staying in the medina an adventure--and is best suited to having a guide. The four of us--Claire, Kelly, Taron and I--had decided at dinner a few weeks before that we’d hire a guide to help us navigate the medina and to chaperone us in the Djemaa el Fna, the famous square a short walk from our doorstep. What we hadn’t anticipated and were extremely grateful for was our guide Jamal’s willingness to help us find restaurants, haggle at the silver markets, take us to restaurants few tourists see the inside of, escort us to museums and palaces, get us a good price for a horse carriage ride--well, I think you get the idea!

The riad (guest house) in the medina we stayed at, Riad Maizie, was lovely--beautifully decorated in tile and traditional fabric, with those lovely Moroccan cut-out doors of wood beautifully painted, and windows with intricate scroll work. Riads traditionally have rooms arranged around a central open-air courtyard which allowed for family privacy and protection from the weather in Morocco; the term is Arabic (ryad) for garden. I must say ours was out of a picture book--every room was filled with colour and art. The courtyard was cool and inviting, particularly after a long day of walking in the Moroccan spring weather--one day it registered 30 C. We enjoyed many cups of mint tea, a Moroccan specialty, from that vantage point! We received a lesson in making the tea from our house manager, Abdul: the tea is made with green tea, first boiled, then with fistfuls of fresh mint added and the tea re-boiled.

Perhaps our favourite place to relax, though, was the terrace, where we had breakfast each morning and a feast for dinner on our last night--a table in the centre gave us a view of the nearby rooftops (with many satellite dishes) and the sky. Cats lazed on sofas around us--there are cats everywhere, it seemed, in Marrakech. There is a lovely covered sitting area to escape the sun and fall into a good book or just take a nap. Flowers and plants in beautiful pots surrounded us; birds flitted in and out, sometimes stopping to pick at the unripe bananas on the tree within the courtyard. This is a microcosm of heaven, I think!

We began our Marrakech tour with a walk from the riad back to the square, where our guide Jamal took us to another riad for some dinner. If you go to Marrakech, go hungry--the portions of food are tremendous. “Salad” was bowls of different vegetables: aubergine, cabbage, chopped tomatoes with herbs, olives, lentils, and more, all wonderfully spiced and aromatic. And bread. There is Moroccan flat bread, French bread, fried Moroccan pancakes for breakfast, etc. Bread is primarily used instead of utensils, though at one small place that Jamal brought us to our non-Moroccan heritage was obvious and within a few minutes forks were brought to the table. I‘d have given it a go to try eating with bread, even with my lamb tagine, but I’d probably make a mess of it.

Dining is an experience that is completely wonderful sensually in Morocco--the food is colourful, smells wonderfully, and there are so many flavours on the palate. I will admit, though, after several days you begin to feel guilty for the amount left behind.

Wine or any alcohol is difficult to come by within the medina--some riads will offer it with meals, and most cafes and restaurants do not serve it. (I believe the guiding principle is that alcohol cannot be served within the view of a mosque.) Outside in the new part of the city there are hotels and many restaurants where alcohol can be easily had. Honestly, we didn’t miss it much, though it was delightful to have a glass with our feast at the dar Moha, a well-known restaurant in the new part of Marrakech. A set-price menu with wonderful selections for starters and mains found us trying some unusual things--pigeon pastillas, an odd combination of savoury/sweet (as these are usually topped with cinnamon or sugar)--and leaving others behind, like the serpentine. It was all quite good, and the venue was modern and beautiful--we were seated near the outdoor area overlooking a pool, and we could easily see the clear sky from our table. It is a very romantic place, and one I’d recommend no matter who your companion(s).

What we did during the day: the crumbling ruins of El Badi Palace, once supposedly one of the world's most beautiful buildings. Much of it was destroyed when the Saadian dynasty fell and Marrakech was ransacked; today there are spaces filled with orange groves and other native trees and plants. We also visited the Museum of Marrakech, which is a restored 19th-century riad with tile and scroll work that is truly stunning. The centrepiece of the museum is the huge covered courtyard, which has a large, ornate chandelier above you.

Jamal also took us to a spice market/pharmacie where a gentleman spent time explaining to us herbs and spices used for cooking and medicine. All very interesting, and several products were purchased. Our funny moment: realizing that after sampling a deep inhale of the nigella seeds (used for clearing one’s sinuses/snoring and not unlike Vick’s Vapo-rub), some of us had a bit of residue under our noses from the dark seeds!

We all had our hands “henna-ed” with our name and pretty detail while there; it was amusing to hear “hello Donna” from some men we passed. We did get quite a few remarks when walking through the medina from the shopkeepers; perhaps not a surprise as we were clearly foreigners! (And clearly from Britain, as one remark we heard was about fish and chips.) I was pleasantly surprised that the vendors were not pushy--while they would call to you to look at their wares, they did not press. Perhaps having Jamal as our guide made the difference.

Women who saw us pass gave two distinctive looks: the older women generally put on a small smile if you looked at them, and younger women (girls, really) would often stare with a plain expression. It was hard to interpret; I don’t think it was meant to be rude, and perhaps our lack of traditional clothing, sometimes bare arms and always bare heads, and simply foreign “look” made the younger set puzzled.

There is so much more--our morning “wake up” at 5 am was the call to prayer (the adhan)--a harmonious chant from mosques near and far. We learned that the first prayer call of the day adds: ``Prayer is better than sleep, prayer is better than sleep.'' The call to prayer is repeated 5 times in the day, and our guide Jamal, a very religious young man, would leave us wherever our travels took us to join. Hearing “Allahu Akbar” (God is great) at 5 am can be a bit disturbing, especially the first time when we weren’t sure what the heck it was, and yet it is such a part of the Moroccan culture that I personally didn’t mind the arousal from sleep to listen to the muezzin begin the adhan. The mosque closest to us, oddly enough, seemed to begin just a little later than those surrounding and the muezzin’s voice boomed from the minaret. Google adhan and take a listen on line; it is in some ways haunting, and quite entrancing in its harmony when you are placed near enough to several mosques to hear the prayer from all directions as we were.

And the square! By day it is filled with snake charmers, elderly women offering henna, water sellers, orange vendors, and musicians. There are stands and stands of dates, fruits, nuts, and other Moroccan fare. By night, the square has several food stalls and, from what we could see, many more people out to enjoy the experience.

Snake charmers are an interesting lot--they call you over with snake in hand to have you pose for a photo, and while many people watch, few are brave enough to get near the snakes or the charmers! (I suspect the poor snakes are drugged, though who knows for certain.) Kelly decided to be the bravest of all of us and settled in with snake around her neck to get photographed with the charmer playing his instrument (traditionally made from a gourd, known as a been or pungi) while two snakes in front of her wriggled. The snakes swayed in time with the music, which is supposed to have a hypnotic effect. It was quite amusing for all of us, and Kelly seemed to be enjoying it up until the very end (when perhaps the thought of “doing it wrong” as the snake handler told her made Kelly realize it was time to give back the reptile and move on).

And more: Jamal took us to Jardin Majorelle, a beautiful oasis in the middle of the new part of the city where bright blue and yellow pots held flowers, cacti and assorted plants and trees. On a very warm day, the shade provided by the trees and flowering shrubs can be a lovely respite. After strolling a bit and snapping photos we found the café and sat out of doors for a light lunch. There were some interesting concoctions on the menu--I tried what the waitperson called the spicy ginger--it was an avocado shade of green, and, oddly enough, served tepid rather than cold. Still good, but I couldn’t help but think that having a chill on it would have made the drink more refreshing.

Given the miles we walked in two days, we’d decided to take a horse carriage ride back from the garden to our riad, and naturally Jamal did some bargaining for us and off we went down the main street to take in a fabulous view of the Koutoubia Mosque, built in the 12th century, and the largest mosque in Marrakech. At over 200 feet high, it dominates the view down the main street, making it a photo opportunity that Jamal gladly snapped with our cameras from his seat with the carriage driver. (Is there nothing Jamal wouldn’t do for us?)

What else? We decided to treat ourselves to a spa experience--hammams are well known in Morocco--public baths where women take turns scratching each other’s back, as it were. We decided to go a bit more posh (aka private) and booked a spa at the Sultana, where we had a fabulous scrub down (“gommage”) that leaves your skin feeling smooth. That and a cup of chamomile tea while relaxing in a softly-lit room on a comfortable lounge . . . it’s as good as it sounds.

There was also shopping--none of us were inclined to haggle, a Moroccan tradition, and so we made a stop at the women’s cooperative where goods are made locally and are sold at a fixed price. I bought a bold, beautiful necklace there. There were simple, lovely linens, pointy shoes (of course), and other hand-made goods, but no silver jewellery, and so it was off to the silver shops. Jamal, being the supreme guide, gave us the low-down before we entered--how much it costs per gram and looking for the “stamp” that indicates it is real silver and made in Morocco, and then he escorted us into a shop where he clearly knew the owner. (Sidebar: Jamal seemed to know everyone!) I had my sights set on a pair of earrings and a bangle, and the shopkeeper immediately started showing me wares. Then came the hard part--what’s it worth? I had my price, and the shopkeeper said no. I told him I’d decided to just get the earrings then, a beautiful filigree pair that at 200 dirham (about £37) seemed a good price. The bangle being heavier I knew would be costly; I didn’t relent, sticking with my statement that I’d just purchase the earrings, and then the shopkeeper gave in and gave me my price.

On our last evening we decided to have dinner at the riad, and asked Abdul to arrange. Breakfasts had been wonderful--breads, fruits, good coffee, and according to Taron and Kelly, fabulous scrambled eggs--and so after the feast at the dar Moha something a bit more laid back sounded fabulous, particularly in a night-sky setting on the terrace.

I suppose we should have expected the same sort of feast--Abdul set a table filled with meats, fish, vegetables and bread, of course. Lamb, chicken, sole, calamari, vegetables and Moroccan flat bread covered the table. I think we were actually stunned by it, and we did our best to try it all. It was a beautiful evening--still slightly warm from the day when we began, and with so much to talk about and so much to eat, it was truly perfect, and a wonderful way to wrap up our trip together. Later that evening we moved to the courtyard for mint tea and late-night conversation with Jamal, who returned to look after us while Abdul ran some errands (we were the only guests staying at the riad, which was quite wonderful).

The morning saw us having our last breakfast on the terrace very early--scarves and sweaters were a must, but it was too lovely a setting to consider dining anywhere else. Settling up with Abdul, we thanked him for a wonderful stay, for his graciousness and his help in getting us taxis, a guide, and for taking good care of us with every meal. To our surprise Jamal showed up before we departed; we’d not been able to get him to give us a price for his services, and were left to our own devices to figure out what was appropriate. He told us he appreciated the chance to speak English (he’s quite good) and learn more about another culture, and it felt like we were leaving as friends. He had come to see us safely off and to bring us a gift--a scarf for each of us, a beautiful treasure from our time in Marrakech with him. (Clearly we did the right thing in our payment!) He plans to come to London in June, and we all hope to see him. He also left us each with a hand-drawn spelling of our names in Arabic--I am already scouting for a suitable frame. It felt odd not to hug him or shake his hand, but Jamal is very religious and touching a woman would have been offensive to him.

I am certain I am leaving out some detail--in the short time we were there we did so much and enjoyed each other’s company; there was a lot of laughter and tons of photos (follow the links below); I am so thrilled to have joined them when the original fourth member had to drop out (Kelly mentioned it at a pub one night and the next thing I knew, I had an Easy Jet confirmation). I hope to travel with this wonderful group again--there’s a big world out there, and all of us want to explore it.

I wish you the chance to do your own exploration, near or far, and to enjoy the moment wherever it is. Easter approaches and here in the UK Good Friday and Easter Monday as holidays make for a lovely long weekend as spring begins. I will look forward to sharing with you my first Easter here; it was last Easter that I told Kevin’s family I’d be moving to London, at least temporarily, and it was a mixed bag--Lee Ann upset that I was leaving, feeling like all of what was Kevin was disappearing before her eyes, and Jim, his stepfather, quite happy for me to have this wonderful opportunity. In the time that has passed we have spoken with each other often, exchanged cards, and remain close. I will remember that this Easter, and also think fondly of my mom, who died just before Easter in 1998. It is hard to believe that 11 years have passed, and while it is no longer emotionally raw, it is still felt with an emptiness at not having her here while I explore this exciting, amazing chapter in my life.

Until the next page is written of this chapter, then, warm holidays to you all.

Links to Taron’s and my photos:

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