Three weeks of carrying a bag and camera gear is enough, but then it isn’t. Three weeks is the soft spot: the spot where you either keep going and never come home or the spot where you drag your body back to home. I feel like disappearing in a dark room for a few days just to be able to process the poverty, the beauty and the shifting realities that occur when one moves from one city to the next in a short period of time. Between Madrid, Casablanca, Rabat, Fez, Meknes, Erg Chebbi, Essaouria, Marrakech and Barcelona, I feel a little torn between what is real and what is not. Adding to that effect is that BBC World News was reporting the apocalypse, yet as I came home the only new I heard was of Jack Layton’s untimely death (which is sad and unfortunate for our country).
So what to make of a diminished thing? I suppose that today I will ride over to drop off about twenty rolls of 120 film to the lab, then I will be able to begin scanning tomorrow while I do laundry. My little hand-puppet friend, Donkey Ote, was picked up on a whim on our last evening in Barcelona. Ironically, he was made in Morocco. Sometimes you just need a silly purchase to bring closure to an adventure. I had hoped to buy a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots, but alas stores are not open on Sundays in Barcelona.What else did I pick up? Purchases had to be kept to a minimum due to Ryan Air’s minimalist luggage rules. I decided to go with spices and goods from the Morocco airport. Frankly, they had the best quality of goods. I did bargain for the wooden carved cookie bold. Definitely a unique piece for my kitchen. Oh, and the Berber blue scarf I bought…the dye seems to not like water or sweat, which is sad.
I decided to put together a brief series of clips from the video footage I shot on my iPhone 4. The song was the only original piece I had without words, so I excuse the melancholy feel – it is entitled “Despair 9” and I think I recorded it in my studio about three years ago on one of ProTools’ baby grand piano plug-ins.
At the end of the day, it is going to take about a week for me to process all of the desperate and beautiful sights that I have seen in Spain and Morocco. After having vomitted from heatstroke in the Sahara Desert I also have to seriously question whether I am still able to travel on adventures like this without putting myself through some serious risk to illness. While We Can…I just need to decide whether my time for such journeys is over.