Do I really live in Marrakech?

Right now I am sitting on the deck of the house that my in-laws rent at Chincoteague in Virginia every year. It is humid, cloudy, warm and very beautiful. The drive down here was so far removed from anything with which we have become famililar in Marrakech that it is difficult to remember or even imagine that we live in Africa. I often forget that we live in Africa, so different is Morocco from the National Geographic images of Tanzania and Kenya that we grow up associating with Africa - yesterday I heard my father-in-law saying on the phone to one of John's sisters that "they're going back to Africa next week" and it was quite a shock to remember that that's where we really live!

Are you interested in hearing about Chincoteague or are you only interested in Marrakech? I suppose blogs should be consistent, and it is true that my husband's avid fan-base when he was bored stiff working in an office in Dublin and talking about our quiet life there completely evaporated when his life became exciting and exotic (new readers appeared then though). I warn you though, my readers, that I won't be in Marrakech forever and I do plan to keep my blog after we leave and adopt a new theme. Well, you can let me know if you want me to tell you about Chincoteague and in the meantime I will show you some of today's photographs.