I feel as though I too often say this on my blog, but WOW it has been a long time since I last posted anything. Between then and now so much has happened that I almost didn’t know where to start. There was Brazil, there were batches of film photos, there was an idyllic, blessed festive season with my family on a lake and then there was Morocco with Brent. I decided to work backwards for now, to start with what is still fresh in my mind, and slowly mulch my way through to that which has become a little less clear, buried beneath layers of memories still warm.

Morocco. A staggering 24 hour, air-conditioned flight from Cape Town through the middle east brought us to one of Europe’s playgrounds and to the polar end of our continent. We landed on New Years’ Eve and, after a bit of a fiasco at the airport over the car rental we had prearranged [for those interested, dollar car rentals charged us twice the amount we were told we would need to deposit, almost instantaneously stripping us of a third of our budget for the trip], B bravely took to the wheel on the other side of the car and ventured off into Casablanca’s traffic at dusk. Little did we know, but the next hour was spent preparing us for the rest of our driving experience in Morocco. We quickly realised that there was one rule on the roads there – that there are no rules, and you should expect every car to suddenly turn in front of you with out indicating.

One of the best things about Casablanca were the hosts we ended up staying with for those two nights, Maxime and Lavinia. From France and Italy respectively, they had moved to Morocco a couple of months before to change up their lives a little. We even convinced them to do a small couple shoot with us on our last evening with them. Casablanca taught us about how much Moroccans love mint tea, how many scooters people drive, that a cat is always a stray and that locals are suspicious of cameras.

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