Weaving Magic

Dreams really do come true (I always remember that whenever I travel). I am too grateful. 

Morocco boasts some of the friendliest people I've ever met in my life. People go the extra mile to try and make you feel at home, be it preparing a feast for your lunch at a moment's notice, greeting you warmly after only meeting you once, or giving you the best that they have. 

And today, the kindness was shown once more. 

        To start off, the merchandise here is often hand-made. So when I saw these breath-taking rugs...well I just had to see how the heck someone can manage to create something so perfectly symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing.

              Though the pottery is absolutely, mind-numbingly magnificent, I could still see how, with a lot of time and talent, you could manage to paint onto the bowls and pots, etc. The rugs, however, completely blew me away. I had no idea how they were made with such perfection and color.

So I vowed to go back and ask. And they did much more than just answer my question. They didn't tell me much about how they made the rugs. 

Instead, they decided to show me. 

I was lead past the bike (in the photo above) through a hallway and out to the back of what looked like 4 buildings that formed a square. There were old bikes lined against the walls, and I felt like I was in some kind of vintage French movie. 

It smelled like a form of fresh linen. but not quite...I can't exactly explain it. But if I had to "fresh rug" comes to mind, but that phrasing makes no sense whatsoever. There were piles of rugs lining the shelves outside the rooms and inside the rooms of the building. Every color. Every design imaginable. Balls of thread hung on the walls.  

And then I stepped inside a room where an old man was weaving together a rug before my eyes. It was most definitely second nature for him after having done this for so long. But nonetheless, it was astounding to see what ease he made the designs...

He told me how the designs were formed, where the thread came from, how much he loved to weave because it reminded him of helping his father when he was a child. I absorbed everything, and honestly didn't want to leave...the work was hypnotizing.

And the kindness didn't even end there. He asked me what I wanted him to make him, and told me the many options I had to choose from.
I custom ordered a woven jacket with my favorite color: blue. 

So today, I got to watch an old, kind man weave magic into a rug. I got to watch a store owner answer my simple question of "How do you make these" by leading me to the place of production. I got to experience that overwhelming feeling of  curiosity and amazement you feel as a child with your face pressed against a window looking in at all the toys in a shop you pass by.  

That custom made jacket is going to be so much more than just a couple of strings stitched together. It'll remind me again of that kind, old man's face. 

And like his nostalgic returns to his childhood memories when he weaves, the jacket will take me back to Morocco, to gratitude, 

                                      to magic.