close your eyes and open your heart

Just kidding, but seriously. Morroco: some say that it is deadly, but I say that it is deadly too. We'll get back to this.

Goodbyes at the eco-friendly building project proved to be bitter sweet. As Nick and I, late to the train station, rode through the foothills of the Pyrenees at breakneck speeds we quickly came to realize that we would miss the place, the people, and the ability to be set down. Chalabre, a small French village with its beautiful views of mountains and water had soon become home to not just us but also a growing number of traveling friends, of people just passing through. But even in this state of movement we all had found the common bond of basic needs met and had celebrated this find around the dinner table, around the workbench, around the setting sun and we had found all of this to be good. A friend of mine has this favorite line in a Ray Lamontagne song that goes something like this, "A man needs something he can hold on to, a 9 pound hammer or a woman like you..." and during our work at Jean Phillipe's a 9 pound hammer did just fine. but for every good vagabond there comes a time to move on, to cover more ground, to experience more life and for Nick and I the time had come.

Do you remember that seen in almost every movie, not the one where Arnold Swartchzeneger dives into a pool of water to avoid the explosion, but that other one where the characters are running after a train and throwing their luggage on piece by piece hoping beyond all hope that their legs can take that last leap to get them safely on board. It's not as entertaining when you're the one doing it. And this is how the next leg, the leg that would take us from Limoux to Asilah, from the south of France, to the Atlantic coast of Morroco began. We did make that train. (And just as before, you'll have to picture the miles flying by, by the words on the page, not by the lines on a map, so bear with me.) It took us as far as Carcassone, where we once again camped in the shadow of a castle, only to leave early the next morning. This next train took us to Barcelona, where we transfered to go to Madrid, where Nick sweet talked our way onto a train to Malaga. At this point we'd made it to the south of Spain, to the Meditteranean coast in fact, and although the day had been exhausting, the views at 300 kph had been absolutely breathtaking. Spain is a beautiful place, even when just passing through, with its vast expanses of vineyards in the east, various ranges of peak and valley, and mile upon mile of tree plantation. Needless to say we are looking forward to being back there. But back to Malaga. We tent camped literally on the Mediterranean, woke up refreshed, caught our train to Algeciras, had a series of very heartbreaking mishaps on the way, eventually made it there, caught our ferry in the knick of time to Tanger, and now we're back at the beginning.

Its amazing how situations can change as soon as you step off of a boat, but TIA mate, this is Africa. I won't say much more than the former international zone, a previous hotbed for spies, writers, musicians and hashish has not changed much since the 1970s and getting into its port at 9:00 pm, looking back, was a bad idea.* No worries though, just because Morroco is an Islamic state does not mean that grace does not abound for those who knock.

*listening to any red eyed, no teethed individual who is trying to get you to close your eyes and open your heart is always a bad idea.

So after 2 very full days of trains, sites, busses, boats and schedules we had made it to Asilah. At the moment, its 11:00 pm on a Friday night. I'm sitting at a cafe right outside the medina walls enjoying a Cafe au lait, reflecting on the time gone by, missing old friends, catching bits of conversation in Arabic, in French, in Spanish, in English and most of all happily watching life go by. In a place where the streets are designed for the people and not the automobile, for the marketplace and not the happy meal, for community and not self check outs life walks by at times quietly and at others quite noisily, at all times begging to be pondered. So as I ponder I will tell you that there are similarities and differences between this place and my home place, between this place and every other place, between these peoples and every other peoples, that we pick out what we want to pick out. That as I sit here I see only the similarities and only the differences that I want to see. But thats all a jumbled mess in my head right now, travel has a way of moving not just the body, but the mind and at the moment I liken the waves in the Atlantic that are clearly heard and a 100 meter walk away to the movements of my thought, so I won't bother you with all of that.

What's clear, whats certain is the realization that life cannot be lived without an undelicate, an unmeasured, an unplanned balance of some conversation and some silence, of some closeness and of some distance, of some going and of some being and of some coming back. And I can't help but remember the end of James 4 which reminds us all that the only certain thing we have is the ability of the One who sent us to move mountains. Nick and I will be moving on soon. Our hope is that we are still living lifes bounded by equal measures of sincerity, fire, love and mischief, lifes in tune with the spirit.

Asilah has been good to us, our hotel, for 7 dollars a night, gives us rooftop views to the ocean, the beaches are a nice respet from travel and the sunsets, the sunsets friends, are celebrations of color, of light, of time gone by...