By: Cloe Medina Erickson
“Where do you think we should park the car?” Kris asked as we rounded the last hairpin turn before Ism Suq came into sight. It was ten in the morning on a Friday at the end of February. We had officially moved to Zawiya Ahansal a few days before. Our souls were saturated with the stress and exhaustion of the previous weeks’ work of packing up our house in Montana, the long days of international travel with a young child, an additional week of buying a car and associated paperwork in Marrakech, and a long day of residency bureaucracy in Azilal. We needed purification. The mountain gods had summoned us and we were going to spend the day skiing Jbel Azourki, a peak that rises over 12,000 feet and lays only a 40 minute drive from our house in Aguddim.
View original post 3,102 more words