excerpt from chapter IV. Day 25, Seville, 16.11.2023. I woke up under the clear blue sky as the hot Andalusian sun already heated the cobbled streets of Seville. I had slept on the hostel’s rooftop as there were no more beds available. Sounds of construction work came from down below — that protruding, squeaking and […]
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The beginning of chapter III. – On the Fisherman’s Trail The beach in front stretched for kilometres. The waves left a long, washed-up line of foam on the sand, slowly evaporating into the air, and under the cliffs, the foam floated in pools of stirred water, circling around the tips of rocks eternally in the
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My clothes were soaking wet when I entered a Chinese shop to buy an umbrella just outside the centre of Porto. The day didn’t start well. I woke up half sick and with a sore throat, after a restless night on a tight couch. I looked through the window and saw the grim reality of
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19.11. To Granada A green ocean of olive trees stretched across the golden Andalusian fields. Desert-like rocks stood in the sky, vividly imposing themselves above the plains. Now the terrain is hilly, and the green-olive ocean has no end. White villages in the valleys, white villages on the slopes of steep hills. Sharp rocks rise
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I arrived in Tagounite two days ago, after an almost 20-hour bus ride from Fes, through Marrakesh, across the Atlas Mountains, and through the barren valleys reminding me of the desert’s vicinity. I was welcomed by Hamza, a young Berber, owner of the house where I’ll be volunteering for about 2 and a half weeks
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