Travel: looking for the best doors to capture

Travel: looking for the best doors to capture

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A simple wooden door made from fence palings – whatever does the job. On the road to Freycinet, Tasmania.

What is it about doors? I can’t stop photographing them. Below are just a few of the recents I’ve slammed but I’ve been shooting them for years.

The beautiful coloured doors of Ireland, especially Dublin – all shiny and bold. There are many reasons stated as to why the doors were painted different colours, my favourite is that the doors were painted by women so that their drunken husbands would come home at night and recognise their houses!

A great essay on  the origins of the architecture and the door culture of Dublin can be found here: https://www.irishcultureandcustoms.com/ALandmks/DoorsofDublin.html

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Adding colour to the neighbourhood and a safe place for a cat to sit so it can skeedaddle inside at the sound of danger. In Essouira, Morocco.

We have doors for privacy, decoration, boastfulness, to keep the elements at bay and to protect ourselves. I have walked past doors and wondered what’s going on behind this one: drama, joyfulness, creativity, poverty, sadness and some doors hide wickedness, mayhem and cruelty. There are great and grand doors that have watched kings and queens pass through to their death or to exile; doorways that elephants have rumbled through carrying spices, jewels and goods that countries and indeed populations had never seen before; doors that have opened to the brightest brains in the halls of universities; doors that have been slammed in the faces of the idealists and the revolutionaries and doors that have had some of the finest music ever written sounding behind them. It’s best I mind my own business and take them at face value and remain curious.

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So old, so lovely. Faded glory in Tangier, Morocco.

IMG_0745Going grand with this beauty in Rajasthan. After a few drinks it’s fun to play the axe throwing game.

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You can’t go past Morocco for the best doors, especially the one’s painted to match my hair. Most of these are the doors and doorways to riads. Often rather modest doors and when they are opened you step into another world, a world of a royal palace or grand mansions with orange trees and fountains and amazing tiles . . . stepping into beauty and calm.

DSC01894And all hail the circular door, small, compact and fits snuggled into round doorways. This is a home of a Hobbit outside the town of Matamata in the north island of New Zealand. There’s a large population of the small folk here and a few humans have been sighted too.

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This bold and beautiful door hinge is on a door in one of the old buildings in St Gallen, a city south of Lake Constance in northeastern Switzerland. It couldn’t be pried off even with a Swiss Army Knife.

 

IMG_6014These two gals drove a pretty fierce bargain as to the price of getting this shot. Even when agreed on a price we had to renegotiate as there was two of them . . .at the Red Fort, Jaipur, India.

 

On the left, the doors do two jobs, they shut for privacy and they hang goods for sale. On the right, the 20th century brought roller doors to the world.

I always thought that red doors were the ants pants of a style statement but the blues got me in Morocco. The diversity and gradations of the colour is seductive and ever pleasing.

DSC03324Oh, this . . . 

DSC03382This mighty archway with its thick walls is an old stables house for a palace outside Fes, Morocco. 

IMG_5583Now we are in the Red City of Marrakech. This weird little stitched up door looks rather irritated or almost like a fake door . . .

IMG_6423This cutie is in a small village on Maui, Hawaii called Paia (Pay-ee-ah) which is a bit like Nimbin but less functional (no atm or chemist). But plenty of surf shops and ice cream parlours. Dates back to about 1927.

E7D91744-FF9C-442D-BE45-D3FF6CFA0C85A bit of fun for very short people in Long Beach, California.

DSC02642And an almost ‘moonish’ gate in Hanoi, Vietnam. Door to a busy buddhist temple. Closed until the keepers have their cigarettes and coffee. Enlightenment is patient.

IMG_6757Doors, door, doors and more doors at the Marriott in Anaheim, California. Same, same. same. Doing the same job as all the others.

IMG_6008Lurking at the Red Fort, Jaipur. Waiting for a surprise visit from a Maharajah . . .waiting, waiting, waiting.

IMG_6109Out in the countryside in Rajasthan, where doors are thick and strong to keep out the wild tigers . . .true.

FFC0ED87-6FF2-4B72-9616-54495A094DFDhttp://www.incredibleindia.com

http://www.bypriorarrangement.com

 

Travel: Make mine Marrakech

Travel: Make mine Marrakech

 

Marrakech Morocco, it’s bold and it’s beautiful. Colours collide here and eyes and ears are put to an endurance test. Every morning I woke up in the Red City, I fell in love with it, over and over again.

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The early foreign travellers to Morocco called Marrakech ‘Morocco City’. The city of old has expanded over the centuries since its origins but it is those beginnings that have kept it as mesmerising and traditional as it was in the past. It’s still a marketplace.

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It is the ‘Red City’, soaked with the natural red ochre pigment that is the walls and buildings dominating the city, souks and medinas, but there are other colours too that fight for space – colour is king in Morocco. A variety of blues and bright yellow and pink fight for your attention.

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To try and give a blanket narrative on this magical place is like trying to cover an oval of brilliant blooms with a handkerchief. Following are observations, ideas and suggestions of how to experience the beauty, colour and movement of Marrakech.

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Playing the market

Marrakech has Berber rather than Arabic origins as it was originally the meeting place of the Atlas tribes. It was the centre of the past for gold, slaves, ivory and leather brought to Morocco by caravans from far away empires via the desert port of Timbuktu. The visiting and trading population swelled the city’s souks and its way of life.

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In the heart of the medina (a medina is a distinct city section in north African cities, typically walled, it has narrow lanes and streets that are maze-like), is the wide open spaced Djemma El Fna or Jemaa el Fna (this has many spellings) – the city’s main market where all aspects of north African life is on view and the space becomes a theatre. The main souks are to the north of the market place but this is where the action is.

The epicentre of Marrakech is Jemaa el Fna, weaving its chaotic magic all day and all night.

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The famed “night market” at Jemaa el Fna is a bizarre microcosm of entertainment, food, and tradition. Since the mid-11th century, this plaza has been the beating and sometimes bloody heart of Marrakech’s old city. A thousand years ago, executioners plied their trade here (hence one translation of the plaza’s name to mean “assembly of the dead”). Today, the only gore you’re likely to see is from the skinned sheep’s heads ready for barbecue that await the market’s hungry patrons. The market is eminently intriguing in all ways – in a can’t-look-away kind of way.

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You have to keep moving at a steady pace throughout the market to avoid the snake charmers because if you stop for a brief moment to look at the reptiles, you’ll find one or two wrapped around your neck and shoulders. They’ll stay coiled there until you pay up for the experience – or else you might choke!

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There are fortune tellers, water sellers, jugglers, acrobats, garment makers, sellers of strange things in bottles and one stall that I cannot ever unsee – the man selling the teeth.

Day and night this middle-aged man sits on a folding chair at a card table presiding over a mounds of teeth. Some of the teeth have been worked into half dentures, delicately displayed for toothless shoppers (and generally the people of Morocco have terrible teeth due to to amount of sugar they consume daily).

Where did he get all these teeth?

A charming sight is the water sellers dressed in colourful garb as they have been for centuries with pompom hats fringed with coloured wool. In the local dialect they are called Gharrib and they carry goatskin tar lined bags holding water. They are mostly wandering entertainers these day but the Moroccans consider it lucky to drink the water they sell (see picture above).

After wandering around and if you aren’t stopping to eat a barbecued cow’s head, or skewered chicken feet, go to a café on the perimeter of the square, grab a cold beer and watch the amazing dance of pedestrians below as they shape shift thought the market.

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Colour and culture

Take an historical tour of the Bahia Palace and the Saadian Tombs are exquisite examples of refined architecture and tradition. Bahia (Bahia means brilliance) Palace was built in the 19th century and captures the the essence of Islamic and Moroccan style.

DSC03632It’s interesting to explore the layout and see the rooms of the harem which includes a vast court with four rooms built for Si Moussa, the grand vizier’s wives and many more for his 24 concubines. School rooms for the great many offspring that were produced on a regular basis.

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A visit to a souk is mandatory. If you’ve run out of spending money – sell a kidney. Beautifully made shoes and leather goods, carpets, embroidered caftans, spices, brass and copper goods are begging to be snaffled up.

In the early morning when the traffic is cool and calm, hop into a caliche (horse-drawn carriage) and let your destination be spectacular Jardin Majorelle, with its abundance of giant bamboo, yucca, palm, cypress and banana tree, bougainvillea and otherworldly cacti. These earthy, natural colours contrast vividly with the cobalt blue façade (called Marjorelle Blue) of the villa lovingly restored by Yves Saint Laurent.

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The French fashion legend said he ‘found colour’ in Morocco and made it his second home. The Musee Yves Saint Laurent Marrakech is a joy, a revelation and to see the exhibits is an emotional experience. The building is made from local bricks and the architecture is formed like the fabric of a dress with the curve of a draped cloak. There’s a rotating cast of 500 fashion items of clothes, and 50,000 pieces of accessories on display to be absorbed.

Saint Laurent dedicated his later years to this museum and created the extraordinary Berber Museum and stocked it with glorious, historical garments and accessories from the diverse Berber community that he had collected in his travels over the years.

Shuffle through the medina to fill your heart and soul with the essence of Morocco and once you’ve had your fill of the sights and sounds, the people and the donkeys crowding the medina’s alleyways step back in time to the 12th century. Count the 19 grand gates surrounding the medina – the grandest of all being the Bab Agnaou. And before you leave the distant past behind, walk the grounds of El Badi Palace, a 16th century ruin (but in very good shape) that still has an orchard growing ornamental oranges.

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Close by to the museums and gardens there’s a small local and French designer section of new buildings promoting modern, collectible goods and there’s a cool café to calm the shopping ardour.

A taxi ride back to Jardins de la Medina a superior riad (a type of traditional Moroccan house or palace with an interior garden, courtyard and fountain) to shake off the heat of a heady Marrakech day and perhaps take a dip in the pool set in luxurious gardens or maybe a spa with hammam (a traditional cleansing ritual), steam bath and traditional Moroccan beauty treatments.

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Marrakech has centuries old layers to be uncovered and enjoyed. So much of its history is on display and open to touristic scrutiny but remember it has secrets – just think about the streets lined with orange trees, so pretty and not quite what they seem.

The trees are for ornamentation only – you can’t eat the fruit.

The author travelled to Morocco with http://www.bypriorarrangement.com

This story was first published by https://letstravelmag.com/

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I have to fess up – I did not drink the water.

 

 

 

How to sip and glamp

How to sip and glamp

 

In the gentle grip of the grape. 

Rustic but refined, this experience sets you in the middle of classic Australian terrain – generous glamping and a spectacular cellar door next door. Everybody needs good neighbours.

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 Was I having sheep dreams? I wake to the sounds of a variety of bird song, some chirpy, some a little glum, some positively raucous. Then the bleat of sheep. But I was in the middle of a vineyard. I stepped outside and on a narrow path through one of the vineyard rows I spied a line of sheep, cream coloured except for one black sheep being led by a haughty alpaca. In front on the lawn was a duck and two rabbits. To my right I turned to see the soft glaze of an early morning mist still settled on the land looking all the while like a scene from a Hans Heysen painting. Where was I again?

I’m standing on the deck of a splendid ‘glamping cabin’, one of two sitting on the edge of 17 hectares, 900 metres above sea level in the Nashdale Lane Vineyard, just outside the western NSW city of Orange.

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To the left I see the rather cool building that is a repurposed 60-year-old apple packing shed, now a rather fine cellar door with large windows drawing in the view of the surrounding rolling land, neighbouring vineyard, a few wandering cattle and the view to Mount Canobolas.

I give a silent nod of thanks and respect to the the mountain – it’s because of this extinct volcano that the rich, fertile land gives guts and glory to the wine grown here.

Take a sip

Nick and Tanya (Ryan-Segger) Segger (below) took on this property in 2000 and have turned it into a productive, all Australian owned winery. Wine and cellar door is the core business of this property with small groups turning up for serious tastings and considered purchasing.

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Wine tastings of the full range of wines include:

Whites –  “the social” blanc (Pinot Gris, Riesling & Arneis blend), Pinot Gris, Riesling, Fumé Blanc (lightly oaked Sauvignon Blanc), Chardonnay.

Reds – “the social” rosé, Pinot Noir, Tempranillo, Shiraz.

The labels are creatively designed, with a delicate graphic edge. The necks of the bottles have coloured stripes that indicate the type of wine the bottle is housing.

After a relaxed and comprehensive wine tasting in the afternoon we at Nashdale Lane Wines we head to our accommodation for the night. The glamping cabins are large and impressive (there are two only, which adds to the exclusivity of the destination).

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Now, I’m not a camper but I am a glamper. This accommodation suits the terrain and has a rustic, familiar and distinctive Aussie short break attitude. And it promises a carbon-neutral footprint with the almost au natural experience of camping – with benefits!

Glamping here does not compromise on comfort and style. (Nashdale Lane Glamping Cabins are designed for couples only and children are not allowed.)

We step up on the outdoor deck (barbecue sitting patiently and ready for action) and unzip the front door. The floor is hardwood throughout and the entire construction is to a high standard of state-of-the-art fabric.

There’s a well-designed little kitchen with everything you need to whip up a gourmet meal. Coffee, tea, salt and pepper, muesli and local olive oil are at the ready.

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There’s a large couch, an eclectic selection of books and magazines, a four-poster bed with high thread cotton sheets and a romantic muslin net folded around the beams. I particularly loved the bathroom, smelling all woody and Scandinavian. The fab shower (which is hot and powerful) is in an open rectangular curve of corrugated iron. There’s a basin and toilet and a couple of windows to roll up for extra light.

But on this chilly night the star of the show is a wood fire (totally safe) and with the wood cut and supplied it promoted a roaring blaze, a heady scent of wood and mighty warmth.

And for a short couple of days we immersed ourselves in ‘disconnection’. Relaxation, frequent naps, pristine mountain air and the fully Monty of a glorious night sky thick with stars.

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The zipper on the cabin door was a little stiff as we tried to leave – was it the universe trying to tell us to stay longer?

(And back to the sheep and alpaca on the early morning walk: they are called the ‘lawn mowing team’, lent to the Eggers by a generous neighbour to keep the grass down in a gentle way.)

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The Cellar Door is open 7 days a week. Sunday to Friday – midday to 4pm.Visit:

Saturday – 11am to 5pm. Enhanced food & wine tasting available. 

Tastings are $10 per person redeemable on purchase.

To ensure delivering a great wine tasting experience, groups of six or more are encouraged to book ahead.

Visit https://nashdalelane.com

Nashdale Lane Wines are located just under 10 minutes outside of Orange, NSW. We can be found by searching us up on Google & Apple Maps or by entering our address 125 Nashdale Lane, Nashdale, NSW.

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Five local highlights

Five minutes from Nashdale Lane Vineyard to Orange and you are in the heart of excellent food, so try myriad gold standard restaurants and cafes – there are more  than you can poke a fork at.

  1. Mr Lim – we had the drunken duck and dumplings. The standout dish of the trip was sweet and sour pork – divine. $$$
  2. Lolli Redini – slow cooked wagyu beef, barramundi and a splendid souffle at this classic Italian restaurant. $$$$
  3. Visit the Orange Visitors Centre – lots of great info from really lovely, informed staff. And there are regular exhibitions on too.
  4. Drive to the top of Mount Canobolas for brilliant views of the city and surrounds.
  5. On the drive back to Sydney and a few minutes out of Orange, visit 2 Fat Ladies café and lolly shop. Freshly baked fluffy scones (so good) and a good cuppa are on offer for a superb morning tea. $$

 

 

The ultimate town of colour

The ultimate town of colour

I was so excited to finally visit the Blue Pearl – Chefchaouen in Morocco. Seeing images of the pretty town for years made me wary that I might be disappointed. No. This small city does not disappoint.

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How many words for blue? How many shades of blue are there? Baby blue, azure, cobalt, pale blue, indigo, sky blue, navy blue, teal, sapphire, cornflour, periwinkle, Marjorelle blue, powder blue, electric blue . . . this could go on for many more words. And many of these shades are seen on the walls of the building of Chefchaouen and indeed dotted throughout streets in other Moroccan cities.

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A bustling town high in the Rif Valley of northern Morocco, Chefchaouen sets itself apart from the dusty landscape in a palette of powder blue. The history of the settlement dates back to 1471, when it was a small fortress established by Moorish exiles leaving Spain to fight the Portuguese invaders.

As the Spanish reconquered Moorish lands in the late 15th century, Chefchaouen grew and prospered with the arrival of Muslims and Jews fleeing persecution.

The refugees whitewashed their houses, balconies and tiled roofs, and added citrus trees to the centre of their patios, creating a Spanish style and ambience.

But it was the Jewish immigrants who popularised the pale-blue wash, considered a holy colour in Judaism, that is now the town’s trademark.

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The city’s signature colour is a variety of calming shades of blue that lower your blood pressure in seconds. Known as Morocco’s “blue pearl” or “blue city”, the buildings in Chefchaouen are painted using a talc or chalk-based paint that looks so beguiling. I saw a woman with a fat brush attached to a long handle painting a wall and later found out that only the women paint the walls – no men do this work. I couldn’t get to the bottom of this particular feminised ritual – so if anyone knows why, please comment and tell me.

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The streets of the town aren’t wide, they’re not full of shops, the crowds aren’t thick and there’s less mania to the atmosphere than other touristy Moroccan towns.

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In the charming town, it’s easy to spend a day wandering and trying to find new angles of blue. Up and down stairs, along the main arteries, through the small winding passageways and the doors . . . oh, so splendid.

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The main square has open air cafes and restaurants where there’s no rush to move on. A slow lunch, a leisurely coffee, an hour or two sitting on a cushioned lounge and you’ll be happy, calm and certainly won’t get the blues – or maybe you will.

Writer Bev Malzard travelled with http://www.bypriorarrangement.com and wandered up and down and in and around and absorbed the glorious blues of all shades. She ate lunch at Cafe Clock Chefchaouen and despite the variety of cuisines on offer: Arabic, Moroccan, Middle Eastern, vegan friendly, she refused the camel burger and settled for a good old Yankee burger with meat and chips.

She travelled with : www.bypriorarrangement.com

 

Visit: https://www.cafeclock.com/our-food

Morocco gets on my goat!

Morocco gets on my goat!

This is not fake news or fake photos. There we were, driving along a flat, dry part of the western Moroccan landscape dotted with small farm houses and solitary argan trees (agania spinosa), endemic to Morocco.

I squinted at the tree in the distance, with its limbs spread out in the sun and great clumps of wooly white stuff mid branches.

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As we drew closer I doubled up with laughter – goats up a tree. I had never seen such a thing.

On top of a tree! Here, in the south-west of Morocco, in North Africa where the plants and trees are far apart and fewer, goats use their climbing skills to find their food. Here the animals have climbed up an argan tree to get to the fresh fruit at the top. They can climb an impressive 8-10 metres to do this.

The good oil

Argan oil is a plant oil produced from the kernels of the argan tree (Argania spinosa L.) that is endemic to Morocco. In Morocco, argan oil is used to dip bread in at breakfast or to drizzle on couscous or pasta.

Argan oil is rich in essential fatty acids, and has moisturising, anti-aging and antioxidant properties. … in short, it promises results as a powerful anti-wrinkle cream. (I hope this works!)

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Moroccan argan oil is made from the seed of the Argan tree), a native to the Souss-Massa-Drâa region of Morocco and Algeria. While the traditional method allows the goats to process the nuts first, as this softens the husk, some Berber women will hand-pick and open the nut to get at the seed.

The trees often grow to up to 8 metres and the goats have no qualms about moving along the thorny branches in search of the tree’s bitter fruit.

The argan fruit resembles a shriveled golden apple. The fruit is firm, has a thick peel and contains the fleshy pulp around an almond-shaped nut that looks like a dried olive.

The crazy tree goats love the pulp. They eat the whole fruit despite the fact that their bodies can’t digest the nut. Greedy goats!

The argan nuts pass through the digestive system of the goats and once they are excreted, people gather them from the droppings and crack them open to expose the seeds inside.

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The production and marketing of argan oil is a valuable resource for Morocco – economically and for education. Stats (compiled by the University of California) of enrolment data from 1981-2010 concluded that the rise in production of argan oil is directly linked to an increase in Moroccan girls being able to attend secondary school.

And back to goats in trees  . . . even after feeding their faces, the goats hang around on the branches of the trees just looking out at the horizon . . . excellent for photography and tourism.

Writer, Bev Malzard was smitten by the goats-in-trees phenomenon and grabbed a baby goat to cuddle while standing under the tree. She took the goat to Marrakech, bought it dinner, a new cardigan and a phone card. But nothing persuaded the animal to get on a plane to travel to Australia. Goat’s loss! Malzard is currently under arrest for trying to smuggle a baby donkey into Oz, will she never learn?

Travel to Morocco with http://www.bypriorarrangement.com

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