A SHORT ODYSSEY

Medusa once had Charms; to gain her Love

A rival Crowd of envious Lovers strove.

They, who have seen her, own, they ne'er did trace

More moving Features in a sweeter Face.

Yet above all, her Length of Hair, they own,

In golden Ringlets wav'd, and graceful shone.

Her Neptune saw, and with such Beauties fir'd,

Resolv'd to compass, what his Soul desir'd.

In chaste Minerva's Fane, he, lustful, stay'd,

And seiz'd, and rifled the young, blushing Maid.

The bashful Goddess turn'd her Eyes away,

Nor durst such bold Impurity survey;

But on the ravish'd Virgin Vengeance takes,

Her shining Hair is chang'd to hissing Snakes.

These in her Aegis Pallas joys to bear,

The hissing Snakes her Foes more sure ensnare,

Than they did Lovers once, when shining Hair.

-Ovid, Metamorphoses, 800 CE

Thousands of years have passed since Medusa`s myth was brought to life. Crossing a myriad of stormy seas and desolate deserts, there is not a single corner of the world her story has not touched. Described as one of the most treacherous and venomous creatures in Greek mythology, her countenance gradually became the paragon of female maleficence, repulsion and seduction as time took its course. It was not until 1978 that Medusa`s mystical beauty and golden ringlets were restored. Inspired by the ancient legends and ruins of his homeland, Gianni Versace not only chose her as the face of his brand, but also sent her conquering the world with a new message: Epitomising strength, magnificence, power and splendour today, she may not be turning men into stone anymore, but enchants those who cross her path and dare to meet her glance. 

FOR ONE OF THOSE DAYS

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We all know them, we all have them and - let`s face it: we all hate them; The sun could be shining in all of its splendour, the radio could be playing our favourite song...we could have even just bought a new pair of shoes, but all of this doesn`t matter, because it is one of those days when we are literally just not feeling it. Our energy levels are low despite our good night`s sleep, our coffees are spilled the moment we touch the cup, and our toast keeps burning on both sides, no matter how often and hard we try. 
This all wouldn`t be a big deal had we not lectures and meetings to attend, errands to run and expectations to meet. Having to leave the house and being forced to face 8 million Londoners and a bunch of lost tourists on a day like this is probably the last thing we`d like to do, but we know that there`s no way we could just curl up in bed and pretend life isn`t happening. It is, and it`s very much breathing down our neck.

MOROCCAN DIARIES CHAPTER II: استكشاف - EXPLORATION

A wise man in Marrakesh once said: “Consulting a map upon getting lost is cheating life – there is a reason why you are here, why you stand where you stand, why you ended up at my front door…and the only way to uncover this reason is with a cup of fresh mint tea and a good conversation.”

                            

Prior to our departure and due to our excitement, Izabela and I had compiled an itinerary of all the sites we desired to visit, including the average visiting time, the opening-hours, the entry fees, the historical background of all dwellings and the weather forecast for at least the subsequent two months. There were, in fact, only few specifics we had not considered in our research, among others, the only information that would have been truly valuable to our journey. Both suffering from topographic illiteracy, it only occurred to us after our arrival in Morocco that we were quite unfamiliar with any type of geography concerning our trip.

Our new Moroccan friends were kind enough not to comment on our solecism when we asked for their advice. Gathered around a golden table in a room that smelled like cinnamon, they turned exceptionally quiet as they stooped over a map and gradually began to outline various routes and locations. The long silence that ensued caused Izzy and me to glance at each other. The only distinguishable noise was the delicate burbling of water stemming from the brightly decorated fountains adorning each corner. We had enough time to observe the boys` facial expressions that showed no trace of excitement or approval.

MOROCCAN DIARIES CHAPTER I: إلهام - INSPIRATION

Welcome to the first post of my Moroccan Diaries!

I promised you to take you to Morocco with me, to write about my experiences and to share all my travel secrets with you. I know, it has taken me quite a while to do so, and I apologise for that. I guess, I felt reluctant and apprehensive to capture my memories in words because I wanted to do justice to the magic of Marrakesh and its wonderful and welcoming people. I started and deleted a sentence more often than not as I felt that what I was about to say would not even remotely reflect the beauty, warmth and hypnotic atmosphere of the Red City. The reason why I decided to try one more time and to attempt to transmit Marrakesh`s vibrant colours, its exotic scent and peaceful beauty through writing is because I made a promise - to you, to myself, but mostly to those people I met on my travels. 

What you will find on this page then, is not a travel guide but a series of pictures and impressions gathered along the way. I will keep my word and mention all the places I visited while suggesting a few things to bear in mind should you ever go and see the city for yourself...but I have decided to change things up a little. Browsing through the internet and other blogs made me realise how many travelogues and posts tend to focus on their author, rather than the destination and its inhabitants. My adventure would not have been the same, had I not made the acquaintance of those rare and eccentric minds that made my trip worthwhile. So, my Moroccan friends-turned-into family including poets, artists, nomads, wise souls, survivors, students, mystics, adventurers, thieves and troublemakers: This is for you. 

THE MERCHANT`S DAUGHTER

        

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One of my favorite words in Arabic is " مسافرة "  (Musafirah), which is the female term for traveller. It was also the first tattoo I got myself when I turned 18. I decided to set up this blog for the exact same reason as I chose to get inked on my ribcage. The thing is, I am a traveller, I always have been. And before you roll your eyes, close the page and think "not another one of these "travellers". Not another one of these travel blogs", let me tell you: You`re right. I won`t deny the fact that there are thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of travel blogs out there. I also won`t pretend to be any different from the rest of them. On the contrary, I am truly convinced that we all share the same passion and an equal desire for experimentation, exploration, freedom, extravagance, knowledge and creativity when filling these blank pages with our thoughts. As much as I believe that each journey is experienced and perceived differently, I also think that every adventure, opinion and experience is equally worth to be written about, shared and learnt from.

DON`T TOUCH MY HAIR

Welcome to my page and the very first blog in relation to Art & Design dear readers. 

As a Liberal Arts student in London, I am lucky enough to be able to still my hunger for creativity and the arts, history, culture and aesthetics at any point in time and wherever it pleases me. Fact is, with its abundance of museums, galleries, cinemas, street art and so forth, the capital offers everyone a chance to explore a world beyond the mundane hustle and bustle characteristic of any big city.

The most wonderful thing about London is, how little effort is required to discover something new;  all that it takes is a quick glance around the next corner in order to walk into one of the city`s various art and culture venues. 

So was it, for example, wonderfully convenient for me to take the staircase from my lecture room which led me to Somerset House`s latest exhibition Hair by Sam McKnight. 

For any further information regarding the exhibition, please check out the link below: https://www.somersethouse.org.uk/whats-on/hair-sam-mcknight

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