Morocco the Sublime - Fes, the Spirit of Morocco

My favourite place in Fes - one of the most beautifully and ornately decorated gates of the old walled city of Fes. What makes it more memorable, other than its searing loveliness, is the guy who posed for the photo - volunteered, just plonked himself in front of my camera -- without being asked! ;)







Photos of a beautiful mosque and madrassah in Fes to come.

Missing him. For someone who believes that romance is a myth created by Hollywood movie and the American media, it's amazing how much I am missing him. And wishing he was here - accessible. Maybe there's some truth to the Hollywood hype :) Meantime, patience is a virtue.

Actually, I wrote that at least a week or two ago when I started this edition and kept it in draft. These past few days, I've come down to earth very much. Being swept away is good and all ... BUT hey, I'm here, he's there and I know close to nothing about him. So there. I've decided to move on - the real world beckons :)

Morocco the Sublime - Moulay Idriss

The town of Moulay Idriss seen from a hill. Matchbox county anyone? :)

One of the prettiest pictures I've had the pleasure to look at. Gave me the same feeling when I saw the isle of Capri from the hillside of Sorrento, Southern Italy (where incidentally I had the best pasta - arrabiata - in my life, thus far ;)

Morocco the Sublime - Arches & Doors

In all my travels, two places stand out in terms of architecture - Iran and Morocco. Sorry Europe, you don't make my list, although your Gothic cathedrals are pretty amazing.

Spanish architecture I haven't had a taste of -- Gaudian architecture would probably be a favourite, but that's just Gaudi and doesn't stand for Spain. And Cordoba, Alhambra and Granada are legendary only because of Moorish architecture.

So there I was in Morocco, the pinnacle of Man's gift to world architecture.

Persia probably gave more of its intellectual property to the world through its work in the Taj Mahal which is a wonder in itself ... but to me, Morocco stands heads and shoulders above Persian architecture. (The brother in law would be pleased :)

Several simple yet magnificent arches and doors which found me in Morocco :D

Epiphany

I have a really good friend, Celestian Monk, whom I spar with all the time. Our discussions and arguments around politics, history, society, capitalism, government, religion get us both agitated -- yet energised. Very few people can debate -- or are interested to. Celestian is an old, old friend. We used to do Literature Special Paper together at JC. It bored me after a while, reading which was a pleasure became a chore once I had to read tomes of novels/plays/poems at record time -- I dropped out and he stuck on to do the exams.

Celestian annoys me to no end as he is a journalist who thinks that journalism is God's gift to Truth & Mankind -- plus he's just probably born annoying ;) Actually, he doesn't just annoy me - his parents, his friends, even grand old men like LKY have known to have shouted at him. He's quite a legend :)

We were on Messenger on the subject of companionship.

Where I was the usual dispenser of advice, here the tables were turned. Today Celestian Monk said a couple of staggeringly insightful wisdoms:

i know you can't help it but (you) let you thots run to the future
but curb them la
don't preempt

ME: Just let nature take its course

i know
it's your way of protecting yourself
from disappointment
futile of course

well your reality cannot encompass God - he surprises us
so don't think so much
one day at a time

Nice. Especially, "well your reality cannot encompass God - he surprises us"

Ameen.

Tips for Stress-Free Days

So common-sensical we forget sometimes :)

Consultant Michael Staver, CEO of the Staver Group, offers these techniques for coping with stress:

• Start your day with powerful high-energy music. Whether it’s rock or country or jazz or pop, listen to music that ‘‘pumps you up’’ and makes you feel great about yourself.
  
• Set aside blocks of time to complete various tasks. During those blocks of time, do not allow yourself to be interrupted for other things.
  
• Make ‘‘Fix it, then forget it’’ your mistake mantra. Do not allow mistakes to ruin you. Do everything you can to fix a problem with a client or associate in order to make them happy. After that, do not dwell on what went wrong.
  
• Get an accountability partner to help you stay focused. Ask someone other than your spouse or romantic partner to fill this role. Make sure it’s someone you trust and feel comfortable with to just be yourself. You should meet with this person at least once a week to talk about your goals, progress, setbacks and thoughts on your personal and professional life.
  
• Use ‘‘comic memos’’ to ease anxiety at work. The comic memo technique involves attaching a funny cartoon to routine, boring paperwork that has to be distributed at the office. It’s just one way you can use humor to ease stress and bring mountains back down to molehills where they belong.
  
• Take a non-working lunch now and then — with others or by yourself. When you feel overwhelmed, go out to lunch with friends or associates. Make it a point to not talk about business. Talk about your hobbies, sports, or whatever you enjoy.

Destiny's Child

Reading Forbes' Book of Business Quotations now -- truly a treasure trove of delightful insights, wit and wisdom from time immemorial.

Here are a couple of quotes under the section Destiny. Kernels of truth.

It's odd to think we might have been
Sun, moon and stars unto each other;
Only I turned up one little street
As you went up another.
Fanny Heaslip Lea

No wind favours him who has no destined port. Michel Montaigne

We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours.
Dag Hammarskjold

Every man carries with him the world in which he must live. F. Marion Crawford

We sow out thoughts, and we reap our action; we sow our actions, and we reap our habits; we sow our habits and we reap our characters; we sow our characters and we reap our destiny. Charles A. Hall

Destiny. Kismet. Karma. Fate. What is it?

At what point is our life decided for us? And at what points are we truly able to act and execute our own will? Are we ever independent of predestination and predetermination? The answer probably lies in the conjunction and nexus of the two. But the balance, the equation remains a mystery -- a wonderful mystery too ;)

What Women Want

Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I can remember, and remember more than I have seen. Benjamin Disraeli.

Spoke to the man yesterday. Man did not go on about missing me (surprising! since he wears his heart on his sleeves ;) In fact, it was simply friendly and there wasn't very much of a hint of any flirtation or deep devotion on his end. All very surprising from the man. Since I have now gotten used to goddess status ;)

Didn't get to scold him about the non-SMSing posture. How could I, right? Man has been in Jordan for many days, he can't SMS from Jordan as he's not on roaming there. He just got back to Beirut yesterday evening. Told me about what he's been up to in Jordan. So I said, maybe you've got a wife in Jordan you haven't told me about! He laughed hard. Love to hear that laugh.

I asked, how do you attend school & study if you travel so much? He laughed a little and said, books are in the car, so he catches up with reading when he can. His exams are in 10 days time.

He asked how I was doing. Well not much there - just work, a couple of movies. X Men which was pretty good. (But disappointing compared to the other two films which were excellent). He wished me the best for my birthday. Where was the over the top emotional effusiveness which I have gotten used to? Haha time to get unused to it.

It wasn't a very inspiring call. The line wasn't clear. Sometimes, we both talked at the same time. Plus he sounded clearly tired. Pretty forgettable.

Anyways, this is all starting to be a bit of a chore. And I hate chores. If the man wants to give me the sun, moon and stars, he should start with regular SMSing, regular emailing. Don't need to be so drama - what would I do with the sun, moon and stars? ;) SMSes and emails are more tangible forms of communicating - anything :)

I realise I have very little patience with people who say one thing and do another. I've sent that message out, let's see if the boy delivers.

Upon reflection, sometimes I wonder -- what do I really want. What do women want from men, actually? Conundrum. Hasn't been solved in a million years -- and likely to be a mystery for a million more :)

Have a wonderful day people!

Sirens Calling - Falling in Love

I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move. Robert Louis Stevenson

Travel to me is like a siren song, calling to me always.

I read the Classified Ads for travel ads on a daily basis, I surf favourite travel company websites ever so often to find out about what's available in the market out there. I can start up my own travel shop, if I want, armed with years of research in the market in Singapore. Heck, I even go to travel fairs for fun. I buy Lonely Planet guides sporadically to read -- and dream of getting to these places someday. When I was due to head to Canada for my friend's wedding cum vacation, we bought 3 travel guides in all! My to travel list is shrinking, thanks to the blessings of the Big Boss :D

Thinking, dreaming, researching and eventually going on the travels, that's what I am truly passionate about. It's the whole end-to-end travel experience.

I should've told Manama all that. Mine is close to a religious experience, beyond falling in love, it has become a consuming passion.

What I have seen around the world serves as a drug -- it eggs me on to the next frontier of experience. That's why after each trip, I plan my next ;) (Fortunately or not, after this wonderful Syria-Lebanon-Jordan journey, I have not made any plans for the next. Darned - Blame the man named M!)

Sirens. They and their songs are constantly close by.

When I am asked what I would like to achieve, immediately the answer would pop into my head: to travel the world. Not world peace, equality, end world hunger, stop wars, eliminate all evil from humans, free animals etc - but to travel. Quite terrible - I shall attempt to change and work towards World Peace (and win the Ms Whatever pageant ;)

Why I travel - in other people's words, as mine cannot capture the essence so eloquently:

I have wandered all my life and I have also travelled; the difference between the two being ... that we wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment. Hilaire Belloc.

How hard it is to escape from places. However carefully one goes they hold you -- you leave bits of yourself fluttering on fences: little rags and shreds of your very life. Katherine Mansfield.

And my fave:
To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world. You are surrounded by adventure. You have no idea of what is in store for you, but you will, if you are wise and know the art of travel, let yourself go on the stream of the unknown and accept whatever comes in spirit in which the gods may offer it. Freya Stark, Baghdad Sketches

The Joy of Travel? Or the joy of escape?

At the end of a long hard day, I am glad I can blog! Although staring at the screens are getting painful to the eye :P

I caught up with an old schoolmate for dinner on Saturday. Let's call her Manama (which incidentally is the capital of Bahrain - trivial pursuit ;) Manama is relocating to Vancouver, Canada (how I envy!) for a few years, and is catching up with old friends to say goodbye & good luck - closure.

It was strange how she opined (accused, rather ;) me of escaping in my travels, like other Singaporeans do. The accusation I have no issues about - everyone has the right to his or her opinions. But since we hadn't met for YEARS, I took slight offence at her jumping to conclusions about my motivations - travelling and otherwise. So if you want to accuse me, please accuse with knowledge of me ;)

For one, if anyone knew me, I don't exactly fall into the category of "Singaporeans." As much as I love this country, I doubt I am in any way the typical Singaporean. Two, I don't go on vacations, I genuinely travel and explore and meet people, go off the beaten track. That's why I can travel alone or in small packs (hound dogs ;) and not much on packaged tours which Singaporeans love -- for the best cultural experience in any place I visit.

Anyways, I was bemused by Manama. I defended myself a bit, but since she was doing most of the talking of the evening (she was the one leaving ;) I left her to her own perceptions. She was slightly bitter about Singapore, people, maybe the world in general, so best not to pick battles with her ;)

But Saturday was also full of laughter. WWW & I caught up over a meal at Marmalade Pantry for my birthday treat. YUMS! And we watched MI 3 which was BEYOND LUDICROUS, I promptly fell asleep 10 minutes into the show.

WWW was sweet. Got me 4 books on top of the meal & movie treat for my birthday :D Two of the books were on travel - A Guide to Athens; The Joy of Travel, an athology of travel tales; an anthology of macabre tales (think Addams Family ;) and --- an illustrated book on Love. Why the book on love -- coz I maybe in love, she says. HAHAHAHA

The books were a good read! The travel book was like a children's book, with plenty of pictures and few words so it was a fast read ;) Well, with my state of mind, why wouldn't I read this right?

On the book on Athens, she said, "Hint for you to go to Athens with your new boyfriend." ERRRRRRRRRRR what new boyfriend? ;) What impure thoughts she's putting into a holy Moslem gal hehe

The Joy of Travel book has been promising. Enjoyed the Foreword and the first story on Rome by Bill Bryson. He's SUCH A RIOT!

Will share insights on The Joy of Travel & Bill Bryson soon :)

PS I stopped reading Romeo & Juliet :D

Words to live by - Anna Quindlen's Commencement Speech

There are speeches and there are SPEECHES. This is a giant. If this was a tree, it would be a giant redwood in the middle of a giant redwood forest. Wonderful words to live by, a true gem.

Next speech I want to post is that of Ho Kwon Ping, who delivered it at my very own commencement for my first degree in 2004 ;)


ANNA QUINDLEN'S COMMENCEMENT SPEECH
MOUNT HOLYOKE COLLEGEMAY 23, 1999

I look at all of you today and I cannot help but see myself twenty-five years ago, at my own Barnard commencement. I sometimes seem, in my mind, to have as much in common with that girl as I do with any stranger I might pass in the doorway of a Starbucks or in the aisle of an airplane. I cannot remember what she wore or how she felt that day. But I can tell you this about her without question: she was perfect.

Let me be very clear what I mean by that. I mean that I got up every day and tried to be perfect in every possible way. If there was a test to be had, I had studied for it; if there was a paper to be written, it was done. I smiled at everyone in the dorm hallways, because it was important to be friendly, and I made fun of them behind their backs because it was important to be witty. And I worked as a residence counselor and sat on housing council. If anyone had ever stopped and asked me why I did those things--well, I'm not sure what I would have said. But I can tell you, today, that I did them to be perfect, in every possible way.

Being perfect was hard work, and the hell of it was, the rules of it changed. So that while I arrived at college in 1970 with a trunk full of perfect pleated kilts and perfect monogrammed sweaters, by Christmas vacation I had another perfect uniform: overalls, turtlenecks, Doc Martens, and the perfect New York City Barnard College affect--part hyperintellectual, part ennui. This was very hard work indeed. I had read neither Sartre nor Sappho, and the closest I ever came to being bored and above it all was falling asleep. Finally, it was harder to become perfect because I realized, at Barnard, that I was not the smartest girl in the world. Eventually being perfect day after day, year after year, became like always carrying a backpack filled with bricks on my back. And oh, how I secretly longed to lay my burden down.

So what I want to say to you today is this: if this sounds, in any way, familiar to you, if you have been trying to be perfect in one way or another, too, then make today, when for a moment there are no more grades to be gotten, classmates to be met, terrain to be scouted, positioning to be arranged--make today the day to put down the backpack. Trying to be perfect may be sort of inevitable for people like us, who are smart and ambitious and interested in the world and in its good opinion. But at one level it's too hard, and at another, it's too cheap and easy. Because it really requires you mainly to read the zeitgeist of wherever and whenever you happen to be, and to assume the masks necessary to be the best of whatever the zeitgeist dictates or requires. Those requirements shapeshift, sure, but when you're clever you can read them and do the imitation required.

But nothing important, or meaningful, or beautiful, or interesting, or great ever came out of imitations. The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.

This is more difficult, because there is no zeitgeist to read, no template to follow, no mask to wear. Set aside what your friends expect, what your parents demand, what your acquaintances require. Set aside the messages this culture sends, through its advertising, its entertainment, its disdain and its disapproval, about how you should behave.

Set aside the old traditional notion of female as nurturer and male as leader; set aside, too, the new traditional notions of female as superwoman and male as oppressor. Begin with that most terrifying of all things, a clean slate. Then look, every day, at the choices you are making, and when you ask yourself why you are making them, find this answer: for me, for me. Because they are who and what I am, and mean to be.

This is the hard work of your life in the world, to make it all up as you go along, to acknowledge the introvert, the clown, the artist, the reserved, the distraught, the goofball, the thinker. You will have to bend all your will not to march to the music that all of those great "theys" out there pipe on their flutes. They want you to go to professional school, to wear khakis, to pierce your navel, to bare your soul. These are the fashionable ways. The music is tinny, if you listen close enough. Look inside. That way lies dancing to the melodies spun out by your own heart. This is a symphony. All the rest are jingles.

This will always be your struggle whether you are twenty-one or fifty-one. I know this from experience. When I quit the New York Timesto be a full-time mother, the voices of the world said that I was nuts. When I quit it again to be a full-time novelist, they said I was nuts again. But I am not nuts. I am happy. I am successful on my own terms. Because if your success is not on your own terms, if it looks good to the world but does not feel good in your heart, it is not success at all. Remember the words of Lily Tomlin: If you win the rat race, you're still a rat.

Look at your fingers. Hold them in front of your face. Each one is crowned by an abstract design that is completely different than those of anyone in this crowd, in this country, in this world.

They are a metaphor for you. Each of you is as different as your fingerprints. Why in the world should you march to any lockstep?

The lockstep is easier, but here is why you cannot march to it. Because nothing great or even good ever came of it. When young writers write to me about following in the footsteps of those of us who string together nouns and verbs for a living, I tell them this: every story has already been told. Once you've read Anna Karenina, Bleak House, The Sound and the Fury, To Kill a Mockingbirdand A Wrinkle in Time,you understand that there is really no reason to ever write another novel. Except that each writer brings to the table, if she will let herself, something that no one else in the history of time has ever had. And that is herself, her own personality, her own voice. If she is doing Faulkner imitations, she can stay home. If she is giving readers what she thinks they want instead of what she is, she should stop typing.

But if her books reflect her character, who she really is, then she is giving them a new and wonderful gift. Giving it to herself, too.

And that is true of music and art and teaching and medicine. Someone sent me a T-shirt not long ago that read "Well-Behaved Women Don't Make History." They don't make good lawyers, either, or doctors or businesswomen. Imitations are redundant. Yourself is what is wanted.
You already know this. I just need to remind you. Think back. Think back to first or second grade, when you could still hear the sound of your own voice in your head, when you were too young, too unformed, too fantastic to understand that you were supposed to take on the protective coloration of the expectations of those around you. Think of what the writer Catherine Drinker Bowen once wrote, more than half a century ago: "Many a man who has known himself at ten forgets himself utterly between ten and thirty." Many a woman, too.
You are not alone in this. We parents have forgotten our way sometimes, too. I say this as the deeply committed, often flawed mother of three. When you were first born, each of you, our great glory was in thinking you absolutely distinct from every baby who had ever been born before. You were a miracle of singularity, and we knew it in every fiber of our being.

But we are only human, and being a parent is a very difficult job, more difficult than any other, because it requires the shaping of other people, which is an act of extraordinary hubris. Over the years we learned to want for you things that you did not want for yourself. We learned to want the lead in the play, the acceptance to our own college, the straight and narrow path that often leads absolutely nowhere. Sometimes we wanted those things because we were convinced it would make life better, or at least easier for you. Sometimes we had a hard time distinguishing between where you ended and we began.

So that another reason that you must give up on being perfect and take hold of being yourself is because sometime, in the distant future, you may want to be parents, too. If you can bring to your children the self that you truly are, as opposed to some amalgam of manners and mannerisms, expectations and fears that you have acquired as a carapace along the way, you will give them, too, a great gift. You will teach them by example not to be terrorized by the narrow and parsimonious expectations of the world, a world that often likes to color within the lines when a spray of paint, a scrawl of crayon, is what is truly wanted.

Remember yourself, from the days when you were younger and rougher and wilder, more scrawl than straight line. Remember all of yourself, the flaws and faults as well as the many strengths. Carl Jung once said, "If people can be educated to see the lowly side of their own natures, it may be hoped that they will also learn to understand and to love their fellow men better. A little less hypocrisy and a little more tolerance toward oneself can only have good results in respect for our neighbors, for we are all too prone to transfer to our fellows the injustice and violence we inflict upon our own natures."

Most commencement speeches suggest you take up something or other: the challenge of the future, a vision of the twenty-first century. Instead I'd like you to give up. Give up the backpack. Give up the nonsensical and punishing quest for perfection that dogs too many of us through too much of our lives. It is a quest that causes us to doubt and denigrate ourselves, our true selves, our quirks and foibles and great leaps into the unknown, and that is bad enough. But this is worse: that someday, sometime, you will be somewhere, maybe on a day like today--a berm overlooking a pond in Vermont, the lip of the Grand Canyon at sunset. Maybe something bad will have happened: you will have lost someone you loved, or failed at something you wanted to succeed at very much. And sitting there, you will fall into the center of yourself. You will look for that core to sustain you. If you have been perfect all your life, and have managed to meet all the expectations of your family, your friends, your community, your society, chances are excellent that there will be a black hole where your core ought to be.Don't take that chance.

Begin to say no to the Greek chorus that thinks it knows the parameters of a happy life when all it knows is the homogenization of human experience. Listen to that small voice from inside you, that tells you to go another way. George Eliot wrote, "It is never too late to be what you might have been." It is never too early, either. And it will make all the difference in the world. Take it from someone who has left the backpack full of bricks far behind. Every day feels light as a feather.

Sweet

I must be on drugs. Coz I am blogging and reading Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet at the same time. Drugs!

Spoke to the man last night. It was cordial, friendly, except for the parts where he reiterated I really miss you a couple of times ;)

Clarified the blood thingy - there is NO Arab proverb of that sort. It's just M. He said it meant, I was in his heart :D Anyways, I sent the message, no more bloodword please, it was scary. Man laughed. He got the message ;)

I kinda miss his SMSes though. He's been travelling - Jordan, Syria, just got back to Leb Saturday. And he's really not an SMSer - why not?! Aaargh

Highlights:

• He said that SMS is not the best way to communicate. So he'll unclog up his hotmail, and we'll communicate better that way. Ain't as instantaneous as SMS, but more channels are better than one. Although with his travelling, don't think email would be convenient or regular either.
• He also said he didn't wanna SMS me coz he didn't wanna wake me up from sleep. He's unsure about what's the best timing to reach me, or how many hours ahead/behind Sing is. SIGH! Boys so need training - didn't tell him, go check the Net ;p
• He checked out flight prices to Sing. Verdict: Too expensive. More ex than flights to Australia. (Of course they would be - Singapore doesn't have a million strong Lebanese community unlike in Oz!)
• He asked when's the best time to go to Sing (anytime, we always have summer, and it's one of the best cities in the world to hang out in ;) and if US$2,000 was enough for Sing. Err, babes, US2k is a heck of a lot. Unless he means to stay here for months on end hehe
• Said he was gonna send me flowers. AWWWWWW. Shouldn't have told me that - now I'll be expecting some ;)

Lowlights - not sure we spoke at the right time, but he sounded a bit stressed talking about coming down to Sing. Which is not what it should be about. Don't want him to feel pressured about ANYTHING.

Keeping it real
We both have to keep things in perspective -- that we met for ONE day. One pretty wonderful day, but still ONE day.

More so today than any other day. Coz I didn't sleep very well, thinking about him. (Women are such suckers! Or maybe just me hehe)

So I will be reading Shakespeare's Macbeth (one of the Bard's brilliant-est plays, so dark, so tragic, but oh so real), in addition to Romeo & Juliet. Cannot afford to have the head in the clouds -- or be on any kind of drugs ;)


M, have a good week ahead, sweetie!

Paradise Now

WWW & I watched the Palestinian film Paradise Now today. It won this year's Academy Award for Best Foreign Film, and deservedly so. It was simply brilliant.

About the journey of two Palestinian young men who volunteer to be suicide bombers. Extremely poignant, deals with the issues holistically, the boys battled many internal demons before deciding to do what they did. One of the most cogent, incisive films I've seen to date, close to perfect in its execution. 90 minutes of exceptional film making.

The emotional tenor was very strong, but the film doesn't become preachy or overwrought. In fact most of the characters do not even cry -- there is just much sadness and resignation in their eyes. Perhaps a very apt metaphor for Palestine.

There was another scene where everyone was walking about near an Israeli checkpoint, going about their day, and there was sounds of fire. They all momentarily crouch, just a few seconds, than they stand up and continue walking, continue their day, and continue their lives.

Also very poignant is a sub-plot of one of the young man, Said, who falls in love with another character, Suha, and how he sacrifices his feelings and potential relationship to do what he staunchly believes was right for him, right for his people. That to me was one of the more painful moments/sections of the movie. (Maybe because of my current high ;)

Acting was superb - the actor who plays Said is so grief stricken he does not smile at all in the entire movie, not even in the presence of Suha. The two actors who play Said and Khaled are very handsome, and Said has the loveliest piercing brown eyes. The script was taut, did not gloss over the complexities of the whole situation, in fact, it had a firm grip of the issues and explained it simply, factually. Well done!

Must watch. A 5 out of 5.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime

From our friends Ruth & Graham from Rockhampton, Queensland, Australia whom we met in our most brilliant journey to Israel/Palestinian Territory & Egypt many moons ago. Fortuitous.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person. When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a Godsend and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

Thank you for being a part of my life, whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime.

Morocco the Sublime - Colours of a Berber market

Here's a wonderfully colourful traditional Berber market which happens every Monday. Berbers from surrounding villages come to this central location - I forget where - to trade. Another wonderful, exotic taste of Maroc. Click on the images to see larger pix.

Coming up -- lovely doors & arches of Morocco.

Morocco the Sublime

You can guess from the title that my heart belongs to Morocco over Iran. Moorish architecture is more subtle, more homely, not so loud and grandiose. Plus it's the home of Casablanca, Tangiers, Marrakesh and FES!

Fes is one of my most favourite places on earth -- next to Jerusalem and Maldives :D

If there is one place in Morocco you must visit, let it be Fes! Truly the cultural capital of Maroc.

Some memorable images of Maroc - many more to come :)

Sherry Shiraz, these are for you!


Pantaloon men guarding one of the king's 15 (or something in that region) palaces. National palace of Rabat.


Watermen in traditional costume in a Casablanca square. Tip them if you want to take photos!


My National Geographic shot. This little gal lives in a house that is a few centuries old -- hence we came a-visiting :)


Olives galore! Maroc is a quintessential Meditarranean country. They love lots of lemon too!


Flower shop at Casablanca market. The market is across from the hotel where Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman shot the legendary "Casablanca."


Cats in the sun. Basking on a shop floor of Casablanca market. (Another potential Nat Geo picture :)

Images of Iran - Persia the Magnificent

Persian and Moorish architecture are probably the best I've had seen in my travels. Here's a taste of the beauty of Persia/Iran.

A mosque in Imam Square, Isfahan. "Isfahan is half of the world" so goes the saying. Incredible artistry and architecture.




















Even the bridges are built with aesthetics in mind. Tres belle!










PS took a lot of hard work to get this done!

The Start

The start was pretty intense.

The very first SMS I got from M was on 10 May, several days after I spoke to him, a few days away from the close of our trip.

Echoed the things he told me in the call: I was so happy to meet you. I can't forget you. I hope to see you again. I'll collect (so cute!) some money to visit you. I miss you so much.

I was pretty sceptical about this. Beware the sweet tongued men! How not to be cynical?

But as we are all ruled by the ego, I was secretly happy at the sort of impact I created hehe What an egomaniac!

Anyways during our very short call, after he said he really missed me, I said, then come visit me in Singapore. Don't go to Bulgaria. Let's see if that actually happens ;)

The other thing about that call - after a round of hello & how are you, I asked him if he'd gone drinking and partying at Monot Street (street with 300 nightclubs/discos/pubs in central Beirut) -- this was what he said, deep in thought (I could hear him think :) Yes, I did (PAUSE), although I promised you I wouldn't.

AWWWWWWWWWW.

DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMA

M's sms at 6.30am:

"If u find urself in dark room and the blood on the wall u have to know u are in my heart. M."

FAINT!

Can't the boy just tell me how his day was? ;P

Singapore boys never romance women this way. So I count myself lucky :D

My response to him: Hi sweetie (first sign of defences weakening), how was your day? Why are you up so late? You need quality REST. Come down to Singapore ;>

[He should just get the butt down to Singapore so that we can just chat and hang out and get to know each other. Let's keep it REAL.]

Anyways, I kinda freaked out coz blood just doesn't have positive connotations. Dracula, wars, violence. So Middle East?

Drama Mama reckons that today's message could just be some arabic proverb -- which may just have been lost in translation.

So I consulted the Oracle of Sherry, she who's from Arabia. I told her:

My other blog reader reckons that today's message could just be some arabic proverb -- which may just have been lost in translation. You know of arabic proverbs with dark rooms and blood in it? She doesnt think I should freak. Mayhaps this is his provocative way of getting me to talk to him ;)

This ultra-hilarious woman replied:
Lol! Dark rooms and blood. What kind of proverb, other than those in Transylvania, would have that? I don’t know of any but I do think it’s the arab man’s drama-mama romeo thing taking off. Just call him lah and settle your mind. Nothing to freak out over I’m sure but at least you’re getting to know more about him.

LOL!

I'll just give him a call. SMS is so limiting - and his email isn't working. Will fix him nice - baby, no more talk of blood please. Sun, moon, stars would be fine ;)

Besides it'll be nice to hear his voice :) And I don't want to faint from another DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMA sms @ 6.30 :D

The Boy is Mine

The moment you wake up
Before you put on your make up
I say a little prayer for you .....

So goes the wonderful little ditty :)

I woke up to a very pleasant surprise - the beep on my mobile, signalling I had a message. It was 6.30am, dawn was just breaking. Could it be from another country? ;)

It was from the Man:
"Hi beby sorry I got your sms late i was in jordan but u r in my mind & my !!!! .... So remember i hope happy dayes for you. m."

:D

It was more than pleasant, it was wonderful. Re-read message a few times before replying: Great to hear from you. Why are you up so late. Have a good rest and good week ahead. Etc etc.

Came back from the shower and Voila! another message :D Must be my lucky day - this boy is NOT an SMSer.

Message from Man:
"u know i am looking at the moon to see ur face. i feel my self in fast sweet dream and i hope the time to come back to do to say some thing ....."

The second message KILLED me. How sweet. Sounds pretty sincere. Quite an impact for a one day meeting ;)

Cannot tahan the grammar and the short forms though - i am quite a stickler for proper English hehe

More on "A Very Special Day"later on today, maybe tomorrow ... Coz today, I'll be watching the premiere of Da Vinci Code and catching up with a dear old friend :D

Maybe not tomorrow too - coz I have dinner with Nora Bora; Friday - with Ibiza Gal & maybe the gang; Saturday - lunch & movie with WWW, and afterwards with Donald Davenport .... must find some time to blog. So many unfinished blogs! So little time ;)

A very special day - long but worth a read ;>

A very special day.

That was how I started my journal entry for 2 May. Our last day in Lebanon, and our first day in Syria.

(By way of background, Ibiza gal & I were away for 15 days from 29 April for our Middle East jaunt - we visited Lebanon, Syria & Jordan. Came home on Day 16 - 14 May - in time to celebrate Mothers Day with the family, with yummylicious cake from Awfully Chocolate, briyani & seafood -- what I really missed being away from home, we ate so much lamb there :)

It was one of those long days on the road. But it turned out to be brilliant.

Our journey started at 8am at Quality Inn hotel at Tripoli, Lebanon (not Tripoli, Libya ;). Met our new driver, Maher, who I remembered as being very tall. Dark hair. He had a huge car - it was a Buick. We don't have such flashy humongous cars in Singapore. Hey, we were travelling in style coz Maher had even put in blinds at the back and side mirrors. Plus it was roomy inside :)

One hour drive to the lovely mountainside town of Bcharre (pronounced Ber-shar-ray), one of the loveliest towns I've had the pleasure to see in all my travels. Looked exactly like it came out of Europe. Snow capped mountains, the bluest skies, little waterfalls, little gurgling streams, gorges cut from the waters from the mountains.

We didn't sleep at all coz Maher kept a constant chatter on all things Lebanon - politics, history, society, you name it. We were very happily engaged -- especially after Melhem, who didn't speak much English and who was bohchup about his job.

From Bcharre, we went right up to the top to see the snowfields. People skied there in winter. Saw snowskis and the cable cars which ferried people up the hills. Still a bit of snow left -- pretty white icing on brown v-shaped cakes. The air was fresh, bracing.

A wonderful bonus
We drove down the hills and we thought we were on our way towards Baalbek via Beirut. But no! Maher took a little detour on this small road -- said he wanted to show us cedar trees. We said, hey, we've seen it from afar, that's enough. Ibiza gal said, I don't want to get lost. This was certainly turning out to be a Grimm Fairy Tale - Hansel & Gretel anyone? ;)

After 20 minutes of driving of dirt road, we came upon The Cedars. A little park where the remnants of the famous Cedars of Lebanon still remained. And what a BEAUTIFUL MAGNIFICENT sight it was. Worth the time, worth the scare ;)

Beautiful trees they are with verdant leaves -- they look like a cross between christmas and pine trees. But stand a lot taller. Magnificent. God's wonderful grace. (Sad there are so few left - overexploited to the point of extinction).

There was a hauntingly beautiful sculpture made out of cedar tree - what else - of faces carved from the wood.

You will see photos of these people! Bcharre photos are some of the best I took in the whole trip -- must be inspired, in more ways than one of course ;)

We thanked Maher so much for showing us The Cedars, which he totally insisted and we totally desisted. It wasn't in the itinenary -- and he just did that because he knew we oughta see it.

This was probably one of those surreal sublime moments where one feels at peace and calm with nature, in the face of such incredible yet simple beauty. I did. WOW just doesn't describe it.

We left The Cedars and drove down Bcharre towards Beirut, in utter contentment and gratitude. A little bit in awe of Big G's grand designs too ;)

On the way down Bcharre, eagle eyed Maher spotted something on the road. We stopped, got out of the car and he took something from the ground -- it was a tortoise. In the middle of the road. Must have been half scared to death by the vehicles. He placed the tortoise on the grass patch at the side of the road. He saves animals too! Hero ;)

It was a long long ride to Baalbek - 3 hours plus from Bcharre. The mountain pass a short cut from Bcharre to Baalbek was still closed due to the presence of snow. So we had to take the long long route to Baalbek. Which was probably meant to be -- because that gave us so much more time to talk to Maher.

Whom by this time, we grew incredibly fond of. He made us laugh with his silly, outrageous comments. He was very insightful and knowledgeable -- and I got my money's worth in getting his responses on Lebanese politics, Rafik Hariri, Syria, Lebanese society, religion etc Finally, after Melhem, here was someone whom we could communicate with!

Lunch at Chtourama Market was delightful. It was a colourful place with many visitors who pop by to snack and drink. Maher met so many people he knew there -- guess he's a regular. Plus looked like he was one of those friendly people, whom other people naturally gravitated towards.

There was George, a very funny Armenian man, who's second wife was a Muslim lady - why Maher told us that, we have no idea. But George was fun! He said outrageous things too and made us laugh.

While I was at the loo, a Jordanian man made eyes at Maher. Maher told us to look at the man -- and as soon as we were out of the store, he told us about it. We cracked up. Why anyone would think Maher was gay was anybody's guess. Staring at me -- I can understand ;)

More quality time to converse, discuss, debate, argue even on the road trip towards Baalbek. Maher talked about women with "bad morals" who stay out on their own and have their boyfriends over in their homes. All very underground. Too funny! Happens in Singapore - and better to be above ground about these things eh?

Maher's view is that people should be left to do what they want to do. We were outraged. What sort of society would that be? We fought tooth and nail about that position -- until Maher refused to address the issue. He changed subjects! Not exactly an admission of defeat -- he cant be defeated coz he's a lawyer to be. And sounds like he doesn't usually lose ;)

It was a lovely side trip to view the largest stone in the world, which was a stone's throw from Baalbek. Met the nice man who's making it his life's aim to preserve this stone. He runs a small souvenir shop. His young handsome son served us very strong bitter Turkish coffee - yikes! But thanks for the hospitality :)

Got one of the best presents of the journey for myself there -- a white t-shirt with a green verdant cedar tree and the word "Lebanon" in red under it. Also got a small guidebook on Baalbek.

Boy were we hassled in Baalbek, site of ancient Roman ruins. Very well-preserved Roman columns, temples, niches, statues. These Romans were fantastic engineers, designers and architects. Thousands of years after the construction of these gigantic mini cities, the sculptures, columns etc still stand. What will be the modern (21st Century) world's legacy for future generations? What will immortalise us, I wonder?

This was one place in Lebanon we got hassled by touts selling guidebooks, caps, chewing gum etc. It was sad. M said that this area was neglected by the federal government, so it was much poorer than the rest of the country. This area was also predominantly Shiite -- we saw the lovely ornate mosques done in Persian splendour in the area -- so wonder if that has anything to do with the neglect.

We had an issue at Baalbek, which annoyed us. The local guide at the site didn't agree to the payment that the agency had allocated M to pay the guide, so we waited for some time before we started our tour of Baalbek. So M argued, we waited. It was over 5,000 Lebanese pounds. I walked to M and clearly annoyed -- at him too, said, Look we'll pay the difference, just let's not waste anymore time. M was not pleased at me -- he looked at me with a big frown. I walked away.

Took a picture of the entrance of the ruins -- massive Roman columns and marble staircase from ancient times leading to the main ruins -- which looked brilliant under the sunlight and the incredibly blue sky.

Baalbek is probably one of the best Roman ruins we visited -- or at least, one which I liked the most. Next to Apamea. Palmyra was incredibly well-preserved, but there wasn't a soul and magnificence about the place like Baalbek. I also liked Qalaat Samaan or San Simeon Cathedral in Syria.

Our guide was a grand old man who walked with a cane. Spoke with a crisp British accent. His teacher was English. Extremely knowledgeable of Baalbek -- when I was listening haha I was too busy taking photos, trying to get that elusive photo fit for the National Geographic ;)

Saw two cute cats basking in the sun ;) Didnt get to take too many photos of animals on this trip.

After Baalbek, we went to Aanjar - supposed Ummayad ruins. But the ruins were so Roman in style, the Ummayad kings probably worked over the Roman ruins. The whole town of Aanjar and its surrounds are populated by Armenians. Our guide was one, his name was Aswadur. which translates to "Given by God." WOW.

Anyways during the 1980s, the Syrian army invaded Lebanon and Aanjar was the first site they landed in. They made Aanjar ruins the site of the operations. They destroyed so much of the ancient lands then. (Such a bad neighbourhood!)

Another nice thing happened here. We were close to the end of our tour of the site and Aswadur was leading us to the entrance, last stop was the Baths. M was waiting there. Nice!

When we went to the Baths area, he came up to me, as if everyone else was absent, looked straight at me and asked, How's everything? Is everything good? Didn't matter what he said, what matters was he was there, by MY side ;) By then, I was sold - hook, line and sinker :D

Our lovely day together was coming to a close, and we both wanted what little time left to hang out, I reckon.

Then there was the drive towards the Syrian border crossing. 6plus and Ibiza & I were hungry. We had 3 pieces of lebanese sweetmeats left. 1 for each of us, including M. If we were hungry, surely he was too.

So I offered it to him. He asked me, you hungry huh? Yeah, pretty much. I urged him to take the sweet, he was driving - he probably was hungrier. What he said stumped me.

He turned to me and said, "You are so beautiful." Pause. Me - STUMPED. "You are hungry and you're thinking of me." He smiled, huge one. I don't recall what I said or did. This man stumps me ever so often ;) I had absolutely no witty comebacks haha

We met the wonderful Kamel Hakim at the Syrian border immigration. Mr Kamel must have been a looker in his younger years, with his grey eyes. He used to teach English (lit?) at university, now he tutors in English and his main job is in tourism. He was extremely passionate about his country -- understandably so, after being in Syria. We loved speaking to him coz he was full of recommendations, he spoke impeccable English (he was living in Toronto for some time), he told us interesting factoids about the origins of words, and he was so so so knowledgeable about Syria. Too bad we only had him for those few hours of drive to Al-Majed. Still, it was a blessing we found him at all :)

There was one time in the car when we were all quiet, and looking at the city. M turned back and just stared at me for a split second -- I could see from the corner of my eye.

We landed at Al Majed Hotel around 8pm in the heart of Damascus city, with its 450 mosques and 7 million citizens in the day. You should hear the competing calls of the muezzins during prayer times. Not really a cacophony, but different tones, accents, all calling the faithful to prayer. Didn't really gel, but wonderful nonetheless.

M's drive back to Beirut from Damascus would take 3 hours, but he was taking off at 200km per hour so he could get home in 2 hours. WE freaked out of course, fearing for his life. But he was cool about it -- he laughed, and said to ME, don't worry about me, I'll be fine, I'll live. Swear, the machismo!

The goodbye was odd -- there was very little closure. Coz he didn't know what to say and he was rushing. It was a handshake, I gave him the ang pow and he looked bashful and for once, was lost for words. Ibiza and I walked past the Al-Majed open air restaurant to the hotel with Mr Kamel.

A long but wonderful day.