A good few years ago I spent a few weeks in Morocco, hiking up the Atlas Mountains. It was a wonderful trip filled with transitions: from one place to the next, from sunlight into welcome shade, from one set of ideas to a new one, from one language to another.
It was early spring but already quite hot during the day, yet still cold by night. We walked all day, the sun burning down on us and slept on the roofs at night, the black sky punctured by twinkling stars, nearly close enough to touch.
The transition from day to night night came quite quickly, the temperature would drop and we’d go from hot and sweating, to cold in just a few minutes. We’d spend or days exploring the terrain and or evenings sitting on the flat roofs eating delicious exotic food and telling each other stories.
It was a wonderful trip, one that I still often think about, my mind filled with memories and my heart full of emotions. And on a day like today, when the Irish sky is dark and gray, heavy rain is pelting down on my windows I enjoy remembering the few weeks I spent up in the mountains with the Berbers.