{"id":28,"date":"2021-05-25T10:14:53","date_gmt":"2021-05-25T10:14:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/justonelittlehitch.com\/?page_id=28"},"modified":"2022-08-12T03:09:21","modified_gmt":"2022-08-12T03:09:21","slug":"gallery","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/justonelittlehitch.com\/?page_id=28","title":{"rendered":"The Gallery"},"content":{"rendered":"
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The Three Stooges and me in Cochem. They were pretty hip\u2014for 12-year-olds.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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My home away from home, working and sleeping and digging life among the books<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Not sure what’s cracking me up. It’s just a donkey cart in Alicante, Spain.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Sitting in front of a Moorish castle somewhere in Andalusia, Spain (Alicante?)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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At the Generalife in Granada, Spain. I’m not sure what book I’m reading, or if I just used it as a prop to look smart.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Aussie Geoff (with camera, of course) and me waiting for the ferry to Ceuta and onward to Morocco. That’s the Rock of Gibraltar behind us.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Mysterious Volubilis, a Roman settlement in Morocco. In the 1970s, there were no fences or guardrails. You could roam through the ruins at will.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Everywhere I go, including Fez, kids follow me. I’m the Pied Piper. After this photo was taken, the three-year-old boy in red sweater lit up a ciggie and puffed away.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Didress, our guide in mysterious Fez, at the “donkey garage.”<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Mal and me inspecting piles of leather at a tannery in Marrakech.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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In front of a medressa (Koran school) in Marrakech.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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With the old men in their djellabas in Marrakech. (I’m on the left. But you knew that, right? Right?) The Katoubia Mosque is in the background.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Trying to be Byronesque on the backroads of Morocco’s Anti-Atlas Mountains.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Eyeless in Gaza? No, shirtless in Ourzazate.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Geoff and me searching for Peter Lorre and Rick’s Caf\u00e9 Americain in Casablanca. (That’s Mal’s finger on the lower horizon.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Why we stopped to see another camel, on the road to Tangier, is beyond me. I hate camels. They’re shifty, untrustworthy liars.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Mal and Geoff unpacking the Citro\u00ebn at the campsite in Dos Hermanas, south of Seville, just before disaster struck.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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A typical last-minute campsite. This one was on the hillside just above Trouville, France.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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You might not think a djellaba works in London, but the hippie on the far right seemed intrigued.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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The White Cliffs of Dover\u2014a suitable backdrop for leaving England.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"template-fullwidth.php","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-28","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t