Morocco bound: Part 1. Baked beans and the unfortunate Jelly Baby

Morocco, here I come again but this time with my intrepid younger brother Christopher.   One of Christopher's evening carers, who helps him get ready for bed, has been off work since December looking after her mother who is ill.  So, when over the Christmas holidays Christopher asked me 'What will I do now?", followed by a daily reminder of " I need a holiday", I thought that a month in Morocco was a good solution.  It would also buy us time to get someone to take over the evening shift on Christopher's return. 

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It's in my blood

People often ask me where I’m from. It’s usually that first friendly exchange while traveling. “I’m from Northern Ireland, ” I say. I sometimes get the reply, “But you look Spanish or Portuguese”. Here, in Morocco, I’m told I look Moroccan; in the Philippines, I looked Filipino.

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Almost Morocco

This is a blog about my love for medicine, traveling and my younger brother Christopher, who is also my best friend. You might have noticed from the photo that Christopher has Down Syndrome. We have had some of the funniest adventures together; there have been tears and laughter, feelings of being let down and feelings of being looked after.

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