just being

its certainly a normality that escapes the average "normality" concept that most people handle. its crazy stopping and letting it hit me: it is MY "normality" sort of, and i love it. 

i am sitting in the street, outside the big bank's building, where i had to close an account (and release some stress) but i arrived two and a half hours too late! the sun is thinking of letting the moon shine soon, on my back and a slight breeze refreshes me and my     l o n g     shadow that sinks in the creek, heavily transited by abbras, traders, tourists ... i am where the city has a soul,

where there are no tall buildings (xcept for the bank) and buildings are colors of sand and corals and have clothes hanging tightly in each arabic balcony - inhabited by hindis, pakis, iranis, everything but arabs! But it's the nice ones, the ones that smile very shyly at you when you walk by coz its probably one of those rare things that hear so much about but don't see as much: blue eyes, white satin skin, like the ones in the whitening lotions ads! 

earlier i walked towards and into this capitalist very famous french chain supermarket to buy tangerines -an addiction- , a pad to write some words, thoughts and feelings, and also coz i needed to use the ladies room. 

it was one interesting experience:not one for mass sale. 

the lady that cleaned, probably from the untouchable caste in India, treated me so well it made me feel bad, cleaned the floor for me and even gave me toilet paper! 

this is a different neighborhood, was my second thought. the first one: how bad it smells here! where i usually shop there are, huge 5*hotel kind of, lavatories that make even the shittiest sh..t smell like roses! this one instead smells like pee and makes me wonder what color will the water be when i open the tap to wash my hands. i still embrace the fear and do it -at this point i wish my yoga instructor could see me practicing apnea breathing, he would have been proud, I WAS!-

when i am walking out another of the employees, probably same caste, walks in. Cleaner Lady didn't wanna let OtherEmployee use the lav coz she had just cleaned it!! This to me was very surprising, and the only thing I understood. They immediately switched to some native dialect and started probably bitching at each other big time. OtherEmployeeLady fingering me, ,,, so I run! 

i like taking breaks from my posh financial tall shiny modern cosmopolitan, hi heels and overall b l o n d e neighborhood, hanging out by the creek where i can watch asia meet and mix with the orient. tourists and their compulsivity, packed in as many bags as they can hold, are funny, they just so much dont match the scene but give it a cool dynamic highlight. i am sure they dont really NEED all those things, nor the people they are buying it for, for hopefully some will be presents! 

to this sight i peel and eat the bright orange clementine that bleeds its juice down my hands and face, i lick my fingers. i realize that some of the fellow people hanging out by the creek look at me as if i am doing something obscene. i smile, blushed and sweetly. they smile back and go back to minding their own business. (tastewise it could have been better). yeah, a break is good every now and then. see it through a different lens, and it all changes. i feel so lucky i can see my aura shine. and my half monalisa half buddha smile shows so.

i think of jumping into an abbra to cross the creek, just for the fun of feeling the water of the little boat splashing my feet, for smelling the salt... but not til it's time to go say hello to Allah, hopefully there will be less people in the water and more in the mosques. and because on the other side of the creek there is the souk, and in the souk there is this cheap , plastic chairs, street shwarma's place. and coming to this area, and being so close and not doing so could get Allah and JC mad! so i will get one, just to be in peace... ;)

the airport is so close ::: seeing the airplanes come and go is so cool, they fly so low you can see the engines spinning and i have fun guessing which kind of aircraft it is or where is going, how many people are going, their profile, etc.. my stomach complains. abbra time:

i was getting the stuff (stuff=pad & pen) out of my purse, everything comes out inadvertedly -this is what we call a language barrier, i dont think this word exists but it is the one i need!- and like a madlady i scream "oh nooooo!" all my writing now laying on the wooden dirty by the sea birds shit  floor of the abbra # 122. the arab family with one kid , the abbbra driver, the two old blond , very  bleached blond anglosaxon ladies, the rest of the gentlemen turn towards me expecting something at least close to catastrophinc. well , surprise! it was -to their eyes- just my writings.but they stared with intrigue like it was a Qu'Ran or Bible's secrets REVEALED and wanting to know what it was... i could tell, I saw it in their eyes! 

after a hungry hard walk -hard not to stop and get tempted by devil's gold and diamonds and silver ... and hard to avoid all the street chanters from the markets "lady lady gucci, CD, LuisVuitton, fake bags, watches, etc"- i finally arrive to Shwarma's Place: where it all conveys: the silk, the gold, the electronics, the shoes, the perfumes, the kitchenware and if you ask for, probably thy will even sell you the moon. and it all ends here. in this little corner shop, where we all stop and have one, mine is falafel shwarma, and guava juice. an almost perfect ending for a perfect mood perfect afternoon. they just need to start selling  beer in the street! but, oh well, nobody ever said life is perfect!