Social Network...

Have had my thinking brain on since we left the cinema with Sinalda.
The very talked about movie on Facebook has been the topic of many conversations recently.

Monsieur Mark Zuckerberg has created a site where people can connect from all over the world without a charge and find their long-lost friends or even further in my experience, keep in contact with people I may have met at a dark smoking area in a club or through the kind invite of friends sharing good times. All for it. It is a choice whether you wish to expose it or not. However, analyzing the character of the founder, in the most thoughtful way... Sure, a genius in his own right but has all this success brought him a state of happiness that I thought most of us search and long for? Then again... does everyone wish for joy?  Could it be that some are fulfilled by money and power alone? And that happiness becomes irrelevant?

"Now," asked Sinalda, "Would you close your Facebook page after seeing how mean the guy was? I shan't for one."
"Oh neither will I," I responded. "It has kept me in touch with so many friends, from childhood to now.  It made us think for sure."
"I guess you've to be shrewd to get that wealthy!" Sinalda noted.
"That may imply to most but there are always exceptions," I prompted.

What made me like him at the beginning was the fact that this project began with a brilliant idea and Mark was against advertising on his site as this was 'priceless' in his words.  But they say money talks!  It is most people's dream to be financially secure... Though at what cost?  So, you did well Mr Zuckerberg... On the money side. And good luck ta ya for the rest. Do people change? Just call me a 'forever hopeful', the guy is still young with many lessons to learn still.

Last night was spent at another magical wedding of two beautiful friends.  I was accompanied by my dear friend Dylan, through whom I originally met Rory, the groom. His beautiful bride Rosarita became an addition to my list of fabulous friends as soon as we met.
 
We were meeting at the grand church; The Brompton Oratory built in four years ending 1884, where I had been twice before to light candles. The first time was thirteen years ago; I remember the date so vividly as two weeks prior, on the Sunday Princess Diana, had passed away and the following Sunday was the news of Mother Theresa having left us in physical presence then the Sunday next, I heard the news of my... I am lost for words to describe her gentle soul... Grandma was gone.
It was less than a year ago that I re-visited to say farewell to my dear papa.
And now, I was there again, in this magnificent surround to shed a few tears of joy at the wedding vows on their special day. The priest was small in physique but so grand in his words of wisdom.  He talked of Love and more love... The importance of Joy and Happiness in our lives...  so close to my heart. More tears fled away. 'Haldita, get a hold of yourself girl', I kept telling myself when I realised there was the supply of only one tissue in my small clutch bag.

When we turned up at the glamorous hotel where the reception was held, every corner was a familiar face. So many of the friends I had made through the years of partying, were present and it was a case of big hugs and kisses at the joy of seeing them all and meeting more fun-loving friends of Rory and Rosarita. What a memorable evening. The tempting offer of the good-looking Federico to join the party-lovers to go clubbing after the wedding did capture my mind but I decided to head home.

The weather in London has turned from pleasant autumn to freezing degrees of bitter coldness in no time.  The best way to deal with that is to wear appropriate clothes!
One matter that comes to mind is the question of fur coats. As for foxes, I happen to constantly see foxes scattered over the city of London, especially in the late hours of the night. There have been times, I have parked my car in a parallel street to where I live and walking home, I would notice a pair of glowing eyes staring at me from across the road. With no one around, the best way to deal with the situation under the shimmering street lights was to smile... Even at a fox...  And pretend, it was a tamed pet, brought my hand up and waved at him: "Hello foxy!" while crossing the road calmly on my way home.
The foxes ARE tamed. They simply move on when they feel no threat.

My childhood friend, Sophie told me of an incident some years ago when she went to a supermarket before heading home on a bitter cold evening. She went on:
Before heading home, I realised we were missing some groceries so I went to the Sainsbury's with my mink jacket on. As I gathered the necessary products in my basket, this young, rough-looking man walked aggressively towards me and started shouting abuse at the cruelty of the fact that I was wearing a fur jacket. I looked at his shopping basket and calmly said:
"At least I'll be wearing this for years to come, how about you, who's gonna be cooking and eating the poor chicken in your basket in one go?!" That shut him up.

As for the banning of ivory, endangered species such as leopards, jaguars and chinchillas, whales, I totally agree, but wearing fur clothing in cold weather as protection goes back to the stone age.  In the latter half of the 20th century, producers and wearers of fur have been criticized by animal rights activists because of the perceived cruelty involved in animal trapping.  Most of the world's farmed fur is produced by European farmers; some 6,000 fur farms are in the EU. The ban on fur farming began in Austria and Croatia in 2007 followed by The United Kingdom and Switzerland and yet since the turn of the millennium, sales worldwide have soared to record highs with the sharp rise in disposable income in China and Russia. I like to question the psychology behind the behaviour patterns.

Years ago, we took a holiday in Seychelles and went on a fishing course one morning on a power boat. I was horrified when the 'not so large' marlin caught by the X, was dragged by the instructors from the sea onto the boat, to be beaten harshly with a stick on the head several times then dropped on the wooden floorboard to die. And please observe the number of sushi restaurants and the consumption of fish by humankind! Then, there are cows, sheep etc...

So what gives anyone the right to insult or as I have heard done, throw paint on fur coats of people wearing them, be it mink or fox?

Buenos Aires... Tango!

Taking my thoughts through the past, there are so many stories still to tell, some I still need time to get my courage together, to write.

Let's go back to South America... Rio was amazing in terms of beauty in nature. It was incredible how Brazilians looked hot in their swimwear and so ordinary in civilian clothes! Quite contrary to what one would imagine, looking at the likes of Gisele, the supermodel.  They were not skinny by any means, yet, when Hala and I visited the five-story store, selling primarily beachwear and gym wear in the Copacabana area, the bikinis were sold in size S mainly! Do you know how one gets offended by the offer of trying a larger size from the moody salesperson? It was fine in Rio... There was no Large size in that particular store, barely any Mediums!

We said goodbye to our wonderful hostess Alicia and Rena who had tears in her eyes as we parted and took the plane to Buenos Aires.

Upon arrival, we checked into our trendy boutique hotel in the Palermo, residential area of the city. We unpacked and got ready for a kind invitation for a Thanksgiving dinner at our dear friends' holiday apartment, whom we had met previously in London and Miami. Tommy from Miami and his partner Tobi introduced us to their Argentinian neighbours who invited us to the theatre the following evening. A gay musical!

Another night, dinner was at the Faena Hotel with Tommy and Tobi; which was a repurposed grain warehouse, now, lavishly designed by Philippe Starck. We developed a taste for the Argentinian red wine, Malbec produced in the Mendoza region and those deliciously tender steaks. Due to this reason, with the best of intentions to visit the night spots, we hardly made it out after the late dinners.

We visited Malba, the Museum of Latin American Art, where paintings of Frida Kahlo; one of my heroines and others from modern masters such as Jorge de La Vega partially covered the high walls. Here is a picture taken of the outside as there was no photography allowed inside.

 

We changed hotels after four days and moved to the Recoleta area.  Our hotel room faced the Cementerio de la Recoleta; where many Argentinian presidents are entombed but most visitors go to see the resting place of Maria Eva Duarte de Peron, aka Evita. We were almost desperate to find a local, non-touristic tango cafe downtown but were told by the locals that such a place no longer exists.

The most memorable day in Buenos Aires was spent at the San Telmo Sunday market; filled with bohemian charm. Artisans, musicians, and street performers gathered to share their treasures and talents with the public on the pedestrianised cobblestone streets.

We managed to find two seats at an outdoor restaurant, under the warm sunshine and watched the colourful passers-by from all corners of the world as so many different languages were spoken.
As the afternoon fast approached, we heard a hoo-ha and clapping from the small main square. We approached the crowd gathered around a couple dancing tango. The male dancer explained the movements of tango in Spanish and they danced passionately into a sweat of heat.

As we had arrived late, it was difficult to see the performance in full, so my attention got diverted to the two couples sitting in the opposite direction to where we were standing. My eyes sparkled at the site of the very good-looking man in the middle. I told Hala: "Com' on sis. Let's move to the other side."
"Now what Haldita?" This was my sister's well-observed comment as she was deeply taken by the performance.
"Look at that gorgeous guy sitting opposite," I continued, "I just wanna have a closer look at him."
"Do you ever stop? And then what?" Hala puffed in the air and followed.
"I just like observing beauty; be it in a painting, a scenery or a person!" I replied innocently. "Then nothing."
As we pushed our way through the crowd, I noticed a familiar face sitting next to the attractive man.
"Hey Hala, isn't that guy some famous American actor?" I observed.
"Oh! Yes. We've seen him in so many movies." Hala noticed.
"That's right. Shame we can't remember names!" I said as I got right behind the seated couples.  I must admit that my eyes hardly left the profile of the bearded man sitting in the front with his 'babe' of a girlfriend all over him.

When the act finished, the male tango dancer announced that a famous Italian actor was in the audience and his arm stretched towards the man I was staring at and called him to the stage! As I definitely had no idea who he was, I approached the 'other' famous American actor and asked to take a photo with him. He was charming and agreed as I asked Hala to join us. I also chit-chatted with him briefly! It was only the following evening at dinner with our friends that it was revealed that Willem Dafoe, the famous American actor was in Buenos Aires filming.

"Wait a minute," I interrupted Tommy. "We saw him. In fact, I have a photo to prove it." And hence brought out my camera.

From left to right: Glada Colagrande (Willem's wife), the tango master, Willem Dafoe with another famous facial expression and the gorgeous Italian actor! It's good I am not a photographer for Hello!

Our travels took us further to Punta del Este in Uruguay. And who did we meet there? Aha...

Beirut... Fantasyland!

When I get asked which is my favourite destination out of all the places I've been, I answer:
"It's hard to have a 'favourite' city, island, food etc for me.  Every experience, especially in travel, has its own 'flavour' and beauty, so to name one place... I'd say one of my most memorable trips was to Beirut.
The people were friendly and welcoming, the food was delicious, the sites were... visual history and the city has been rebuilt with charm. There were still a few older buildings amid the new sites left derelict with bullet holes as a reminder of the hardship the citizens went through over the years of war and destruction.

There was certainly no sign of war in this city when I visited.
It all began when my dear friend Aisha suggested we all go on a holiday to this magical land.  Through many years of hearing my mother speak of the 'Old Lebanon' when she and my father visited... At the time it was called 'The Jewel or Paris' of the Middle East, based on what a fabulous city this was. The site-seeing, shopping... In fact, I recall the twin pink/burgundy, velvet dress with the white lace collar my mother brought me and Hala all those years ago when we were so young.

Now, was a chance to finally visit a city I had literally dreamt about some years before.
Once Hala and I arrived in Beirut, we checked into our hotel where all the 'shi-shi' Lebanese would spend their afternoon by the pool, manoeuvring their latest bodies in the most fashionable bikinis and swimsuits; men and women alike and eye-up one another to see what the latest gossip was. Fascinating.

However, I must add, Aisha had left to book her ticket too late and could only find a seat to arrive a few days after us. She had kindly put us in touch with her adorable sister, Aida, who knew the city well, to meet us on our first night of arrival and direct us to the hottest spots to visit.

The first choice was the Sky Bar, placed at the time, on the rooftop of a tall hotel. I believe the venue has changed place since but is still as hot.  So we thanked Aida after meeting us 'downtown', which was all newly built in an elegant old style, at an 'Entrecote' restaurant which served the very special sauce imported from Paris. Aida was loving and went through the whole list she had prepared before we met the latest places to visit.

Our first choice that evening was to take a taxi to the Sky Bar as recommended.
At the entrance to the outdoor bar, stood a man with a 'guestlist' in hand. He began speaking Arabic to us and as we stopped him in explaining we are tourists, he spoke in English and welcomed us into the bar.  We looked around at all the dressed up, made up and fun-loving crowd, hearing sounds of laughter; the place was buzzing.
Placing ourselves at the bar, we ordered our cocktails from the friendly bartender who said that place is reserved for us on every night of our stay! The Lebanese charm was already getting under our skin.

Looking at the swimming pool, I noticed a young man in his early thirties, dark in complexion and small-built, in a t-shirt and jeans, wearing a flap cap hiding most of his face, making his way in and sitting on a stool close by.  He was sheepishly looking around when our glances met from under his cap. He smiled and I smiled... There was no choice! I approached him and began speaking in English. His name was Mahdi. He told us of his routine visits to Beirut on holiday on weekends and was... what I call... a cool dude.
He most politely invited us to his suite and told us about his life in the US while Hala and I entertained him with our stories of travels. He generously ordered two trays of food from room service which showed further hospitality and we left him packing for his flight back in the early hours of the morning.

After a short sleep, we spent the day by the pool; observing and being entertained by Amro; the George Clooney type of looking boyfriend of a lady lying on a bed behind, so busy in gossip, that she barely glanced our way. Amro happened to have attended the same finishing school in Switzerland as we had,  with so many friends in common. He was particularly well-groomed for a man and recommended us his manicurist and wax lady who could come to our hotel room for her services!

On the second night of our visit, we went downtown again to a Latin bar. It was not very busy and we were told the place gets packed later on in the evening. It was about 11 pm and Hala was feeling tired.  We noticed a group of about six young men and women dancing to the salsa tunes, with two of the girls in the bar. They were jolly and one of the boys sat next to Hala and began talking.
"And who are you?"  Asked Hala.
"Oh!  Fadi.  I'm your typical Lebanese bastard,"  were his exact words. "I'm here with my friends." And he directed his look on the rest of the jolly dancers.
We had to leave.  There was an exchange of mobile numbers as we headed back to the hotel with a taxi driver who tried to charge us at least three times what we should have paid.

Upon arrival in our room, Hala went straight to bed. But the warmth of the city and its people kept me from sleeping.  So... I texted Fadi!  He called immediately and offered to pick me up by car at the hotel and take me clubbing.  Brilliant.
As I went down to meet him... I must explain that his words of being a 'typical bastard' sounded more like a front to hide his naughty but gentle soul... He sat in an average car (don't ask me what model, I haven't got a clue) in the passenger seat with his very good-looking, toned-up friend Hud in the driver's seat. I opened the back door and sat in the car when I looked up at their smiling faces eyeing me as two school boys in a candy shop!

"So, Haldita, nice to meet you," Hud began the conversation, "what would you like to do? What kind of music do you like?"
"But where are the girls?" I asked.
"They had to go home. They've curfew at midnight," answered Fadi.
I turned to Hud and smiled at that gorgeous 30-year-old face and replied: "Oh! I don't know.  Just show me the fun spots in your city. I'm a new tourist. Let's go dancing somewhere with Arabic music."
After discussing a few options between them, partly in English, and partly in Arabic, they came to a conclusion as to where to take me dancing. It was already about 2 am when our quest for clubbing in Beirut began.
They parked the car almost right outside the entrance of a hallway which took us to a high-ceiling club, the walls covered in dark, burgundy velvet curtains, with a large chandelier above, playing what I can best describe as Arabic House music, so much fun to dance to with my new buddies.

We went club-hopping to another spot and finally got in the car at about 4.30 am, the boys seemed a little agitated.  Hud said:  "Haldita, do you want to see the mountains outside Beirut?"
"No way... Really? I've heard so much about the mountains here." I exclaimed.
"Fadi has a family home in de mountains, we could pick up the keys and go there, but..." Hud, now sitting in the passenger seat, turned to face me, and began: "Haldita, Can I talk open viz you?"  Seemed no answer was needed so he continued: "I've an offer for you... You have a choice. You can have us both for sex! Or you can choose, me? Fadi? As you wish."
I simply could not stop myself from bursting out into laughter after a pause of disbelief.
"This is quite an offer, I must say. Can I be very frank with you too? I'm totally flattered and you know this has been a kind of fantasy of mine." I noticed their boyish look of anticipation, as to my reaction in the words that followed.
So I continued: "But sorry boys to disappoint you. I'm not gonna have sex with you. Not with both of you.  Not with either of you!" I was still laughing.
"But why?" Hud was on a mission to convince. "You see out of 160 girls, no one ever said no to me!"
"Well, I've news for you, I'm not gonna be no 161 tonight!  But why don't you pick up two girls at the next club and we all go to the mountains. Pleaaase. I'd love to see the mountains." Now I was on a mission.

As our conversation of bargaining progressed and Hud's already fit chest grew bigger with pride, I noticed two girls standing on the pavement of the wide street, downtown and a few, mostly white fancy cars standing by them in a queue chatting to them. It was clear that they were working girls, out to choose customers.

I turned towards Hud who seemed quite full of himself by now, ready for a challenge and said: "Com' on Hud, you said you can pick absolutely any girl up. Let's see you in action with the girls here. Show me your skills and pick those girls up.  No money."
"Really? Do you want me to pick them up? Have a look." Hud was on a roll.
He uttered a few words to the girls in Arabic. One, small built in a knee-long dress and high heels, her long black hair and fringe had hidden most of her face. The other was more butch-like, in jeans and a t-shirt and short curly hair.
The stronger girl answered something back as I saw them approach our car!
Fadi got out and offered me the front seat while he sat back with the girls. I must have had the biggest smile on my face as they all began talking in English. The small girl never uttered a word and almost fell asleep immediately on the shoulders of her friend; Adara did all the talking.
"I couldn't be bothered viz de assholes tonight." Adara began. "Good to meet you."
We introduced one another and the boys mentioned their plan of driving to their mountain house.
"Absolutely," said Adara, "let's go."

Hud drove and asked questions about Adara's life and what triggered her into prostitution.
"I had a step-father... he raped me as a child. So I ran away from home and followed a destiny which I didn't want. But that's life." Adara explained.

We drove through mountainous roads which were turning dry with patches of green plants scattered across the many high hills we crossed. The morning blue sky fast replaced the darkness of the night.

Hud parked the car, while Fadi got out to open the lock on the barbed gate. As we all stood outside the entrance, the boys struggled with the keys and realised they could not open the lock. So they pulled the partially barbed wire open and let us in, bending one by one, through the opening.
In the middle of a vast piece of land, quite dry in plantation, standing by a tall tree, was an old house on one floor.
The key worked this time and we entered a living room with almost torn damask curtains and a few pieces of furniture as in a Louis ran down sofa, an armchair and a coffee table in the middle.  A little dusty, run-down, fading paint, old style grey square tiles on the floor, worn with footsteps over the thirty-something years the family owned the country house.

The small girl headed straight into the first bedroom she came across and took refuge on the bed, falling asleep straight away.
The boys, Fadi laid himself across the antique sofa, while Hud sat on the armchair after Adara had chosen to kneel on the aged carpet, rolling a smoke on the scratched glass coffee table. It was all so surreal. I left them chatting in their native language, while I left the room, into the wilderness of the mountains ahead, the clear deep blue sky, the sun which was now rising from behind the hills in front of my eyes. I looked up at the sky and I prayed.

"I thank thee My Lord for your love. For the openness in spirit, you have granted me. For being open to the adventures life is throwing my way and for sending me the blessing of meeting these good souls who are helping me on my path of growth. How blessed am I?"
The tears of gratefulness covered my happy face.

I came back to the living room when Hud looked at his watch and stood up to say: "It's getting late, let's get back."
Adara left to wake her little friend up and they kindly dropped me at the hotel before going their way.
Never to be seen again.
But the memory of that eventful morning is a video, kept in my memory, for only my eyes to recall and for you to read and imagine.

This was only the second night in Beirut! Seems a whole book can be written of our adventures to follow in the next two and a half weeks to come.

One day... One day... I shall go back to Beirut. Here to follow on the stories still to tell.

Serious matters.

I drove to visit my sick friend who had the over-friendly flu which has got a large percentage of the population ill in this city and everywhere. Don't these viruses get worse and stronger every year?

"I've something to tell you Haldita.  Please close the door." Gina whispered. "I'm pregnant!"
The sudden news of Gina's pregnancy came as a shock.
"Whattttt?" Was my immediate response.  "Are you sure darling?"
What a question to ask! No, she is just kiddin'. So to tell you a little about Gina; she is another one of my many twenty-something-year-old friends who is bright, holds a good job, has a good family and is well-travelled.

Of the more sensible questions, I asked: "Does George know? How is he by the way?"
"Oh!  We broke up the week before." Gina said with an expression of open eyes, slightly biting her lower lip on one side, bending her head to the other and pulling her shoulders up as in 'what to do'.
I looked at Albert across the room, who in turn shook his head in confirmation.
"Were you feeling sick at all?" I felt the need to ask the appropriate questions.
"Just a little,"  Gina replied.
"Have you talked to George since? Are you gonna tell him?" Couldn't stop the questions following.
Gina replied: "No.  We broke up and no, I shan't tell him. Not now anyway. Perhaps in years to come if we decided to stay friends."
"You know," I continued. "I always wondered how I'd react, had I got pregnant from someone I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with. What's the right thing to do? What rights has the 'father' towards the decision of keeping the child?"
"Yes, I know what you mean," were Gina's words. "Had we been together, I'd felt obliged to tell him.  But since we have broken up, there's no point.  I'm not ready for a child."

Albert who had been there discussing the matter with Gina before I arrived, had a say: "If you wanted to keep the child, I'd say go ahead and have it. But since you don't, abortion is the only way."
Gina turned to me and asked: "Haldita, what's your opinion on abortion? Do you think it's wrong?"
"No way Darling.  It's like taking out a tooth." I said.
"But... there's a lot of emotion involved,"  we said simultaneously.
"Yes, but it's a hard one." Gina was in deep thought.
"It's as hard as you make it out to be. As in everything else in life." That was my input.

I continued: "The times I was growing up, this was a major issue. Most girls would have to hide any news of pregnancy and some got up to dangerous ways of getting rid of their offspring. In some countries, the fact of losing one's virginity was a major family disgrace, let alone being pregnant with a bastard!"
"Nowadays, with women having stronger roles and say in society, they also have a choice. And why would one bring a child into this world with a doubt in their mind? The world's hard enough as it is. I personally have no problem with abortion. Even if only one of the parents isn't ready." I rested my case knowing that I still have no idea how I would have reacted, had the situation arisen.

Albert then said: "We were watching a program on teenage pregnancy before you arrived, Haldita. It was sadly hysterical. These young girls 13, 14, and 15 years of age were pregnant and they showed the fathers who were present. One 22-year-old couch potato in one instance, who laid around, jobless and clueless!"
"And this was just one of them," Gina picked up. "The girls were from middle-class families, who went to college and had plans for their future, only too young for motherhood. But the guys were a disaster! They were clearly not ready for what was to come."

My last words on this... Don't keep an unwanted child. The wanted ones have enough issues growing up. And this is just my opinion. You are absolutely entitled to yours and would love to hear them if anyone cared to comment here!

My mother would say:
"What's abortion for if you've issues about bringing them onto this troubled world?"
As she believes: "What's divorce for if two people don't get on! Should they destroy each other for a mistake they made earlier in life?"
And: "What's marriage for, except for a damn signature to help make two people miserable in the belief of possessing one another?!"
I Guess Mum gets her points across well but I like being a romantic and believing in the reverie of love and romance; even if as a childlike fantasy. I'd be lying if I said otherwise.

I did however, tell my kids in later years, perhaps around 10 years old, not to believe in the stories of Cinderella and Snow White etc and 'The Prince Charming' riding on a horse... as they were only 'fiction'. The fact that marriage is a 'happily ever after' thing... Is just a story, it doesn't quite happen that way in real life! But for the 'very' few. Be prepared for reality!

As for the controversy against gay couples adopting babies, I had to give the matter some thought when it made the headlines.
To think in 'real' terms, it came to my attention that through observation of gay couple friends, they have been kind, over-friendly, live well, look after themselves, and most of them quite articulate. And they absolutely get attached to their pets. All this puts them in a 'caring' category of parenthood as to some straight parents. I did say some. And if it is the sexual worry of gay men with younger boys... It seems this could happen in the church and I am only being truthful from what I keep hearing through distasteful jokes etc over the years. It also happens within families, where the uncle or the stepfather etc disturbingly continues years of sexual abuse and hidden encounters with the young children in the family. These situations sadly happen everywhere but they are tabooed... Not many, still at this age, care to bring them up.

Last but not least, why do parents behave so irrationally at times? As do children?
What effect do the mother and father's constant quarrels have on children growing up?
Why do we put ourselves and our youngsters through torment? What makes 'rappers' so angry as to want to shout in aggression about family abuse, beating of the mother, and constant rows with words of hatred from parent and child alike? And what... But what can be done to help?

I shall get back to the subject of parenthood and children. How we could work on those relationships.

Here are further major subjects which I feel are neglected and tabooed by society and especially governments all over, which I would love to bring to your attention.

Shall we discuss Sex,

Drugs,

And Rock & Roll?

Mental illness,

Pharmaceuticals

How have governments messed up our planet so hopelessly?

Menopause.

The subjects are endless.

Words... from the heart

I sat in the writing course... (Oh!  Mustn't forget to mention that I was early and the first one to arrive for both Saturday and Sunday morning classes) and what a pleasure it was to spend two absolutely fulfilling days in the company of intelligent, witty writers with individuality in each of their skilled methods of wording.

I just have to thank our most gracious teacher; Victoria for making her classes such a pleasure to attend.  Never imagined classes can be so much fun!  Also for introducing a fellow powerful writer,  could we say 'writers'? We did say almost 'anything goes in writing'! Perhaps I am pushing it too far!  Just my character.
As for the inspirational meeting with Bernardine, your encouragement is much appreciated.

Salar and I were chatting online the night before the workshop and he wrote:
"What's your plan this weekend?"
"I'm so excited.  It's not Fabric.  Going to a writing course!" I said with a big smile on my face.
"I'm reading your blog. You don't need lessons. Just write." Salar is so cute.
"Lessons are precious. If you can add to your knowledge, learn the lesson... And learn it well." I said this as I try to overcome my obstacles of... Well, actually, I don't do obstacles. If my heart is there, I follow my dreams... As and when.
And thank you Salar for your kind words. You are adorable.

My first poem tonight, since I last wrote at the age of sweet 16.

You said I love you
I rushed to the streets
The walled room would have prevented me from flying

The Magic in Nature...

Ok... Where are my glasses? Oh! On top of my head. Good start.

I experienced an extraordinary site yesterday from my bedroom 'to floor' window which opens to a balcony that I can only describe as the 'Romeo and Juliet balcony'... Alas, my Romeo has not arrived...  Yet! It is necessary to live with high hopes.

These were my feelings at the time.
My goodness, it is absolutely pissing down with rain here on this autumn, picturesque London afternoon.
I opened the windows to watch the rain, pouring down buckets or better still as though an ocean has opened from the grey cloudy sky above.  The auburn, yellow, orange and some still green leaves which are left on the branches, are fighting for their last days of life on the trees before being absorbed into the muddy grass.  The rain was so strong with a gust of wind blowing the leaves straight to the ground from the force of the pouring heavenly waters.

My thoughts diverted to the poor souls out there in this weather ...  The cyclists, the mothers picking up their springs at school, anyone out there who had to walk under this heavy storm.
"But Dear Lord,"  I asked, looking up at the grey sky, in the cosiness and warmth of my boudoir.  "How are these people coping with such an unpredictable blast?"
Sometimes there are no satisfying answers to the questions we wonder about and ask.

We get mad ...  We shout and behave at times 'totally out of character' ...  Oh yes ...  We all do.
Perhaps nature has a human temperament, as do animals, and behaves accordingly.  It is a pattern that obviously differs from nature to human to animal but the explanation of nature going mad as we do, makes sense.  It does to me anyway.

As my wandering mind was enjoying the sight of the falling rain, I looked further left and ...  To my total astonishment... Patches of blue, but I mean very blue sky appeared through the light, white clouds.
Absolute magic.
The sun is out.
The clouds are fast disappearing in front of my wide-open eyes.
The birds are singing.
The sirens of police cars and ambulances are fast disappearing as the clouds did.
Oops! Wait a minute... There is one other siren being heard in a far distance. Well, life does go on and on.

The message to me all day was... Despite sunshine or rain... Be thoughtful and smile.
I made a 'triste', sad (was showing off my French there! haha), rainy day into the sunshine and the sun literally shone upon us all.  I also made another pact with myself... don't let the weather rule your life!  Take charge and make the best of whatever nature throws at you... with grace.
And today, I walked under the rain; all prepared; in mind as clothing... and it was fun!

Through the self-development courses I did, there was one apparent factor as to how to obtain a state of being... As in how to keep the happiness going... Repetition.
If I keep repeating the words... Smile, Love, Laughter, Joy, Happiness. It is the most therapeutic way of releasing my emotions through words that could hopefully in return bring on the same feeling to anyone who wishes to read them.
No matter how many 'feel good' books we all read, there are never enough words to satisfy our thirst for finding that happiness we truly deserve.
My advice to you is... Never and I mean never give up!
Think well and think high... But think Good things.  Simple... Good or Great.

That's all folks! I just Love Buggs Bunny.
I'm gonna download some photos from my Rio trip now.
Tomorrow is another weekend of a writing course and a gathering on Saturday night with friends.  

Ciao for now

I go where the current flow of life takes me... Sintra, took my breath away!

My story is forever based on believing... and Hope.

It's been quiet moments after the family left. There is a void temporarily in my being which I cherish as much as the joy of being surrounded by loving family and friends.  Reality is reality, nothing can be done about it. Only to face it, accept it and let it go. We each have different paths to lead.

I have lived a life in the fast lane for so many years and still do, which I hope will go on for as long as I shall live, but for now it is the appreciation of the time I spent alone... Me, myself and I, reflect on all the past. Good and bad. Happy and sad. What have I learnt? It's like putting issues on a scale and weighing them up and down. And... Making the necessary changes. Solitude, walking in the streets, through the parks, is another form of meditation. I try to put matters in perspective and give credit when due. It is not my stubbornness that comes in the way, because I know there is a good trait in there! But I call upon the angels to help me with my decisions, in terms of thinking real and pure. Life takes its course. Some things are best left aside till further notice.

Now... Let me take you to one of the most romantic places I have been.
About two years ago, Heidi called to ask me if I would join her, Berto (her husband), Anna and a couple (their friends) on a trip to Lisbon.
"Baby, you've to come.  It's my birthday," she pleaded with persistence.
"I've never been to Portugal." And of course, I agreed to go.

We spent a splendid two days exploring the historical city of Lisbon.
The first sunny day, we took a taxi to Rossio; one of the city's main squares since the Middle Ages!

Walking through the pedestrianised shopping streets, we saw the 'Elevador de Santa Justa.  Constructed by 1902; originally powered by steam, then converted to electrical operation in 1907.

We walked up a hill to get to the Castle of Sao Jorge.
It became the Royal palace in 1255, renovated around 1300 by King Dinis I.
The castle's period of neglect then came to an end, after two major earthquakes in 1531 and 1788, when a well-needed extensive renovation was undertaken in the 1940's.

For such a small capital city, the sites to visit were endless.

One evening, dinner was at The Hard Rock Cafe, with a car hanging upside down, almost on the high ceiling!

After dinner, we visited the nightclub by the river called 'Luxe'.
Very elegantly decorated on two floors with different djs playing on each level.
Heidi and Berto being newly weds, were all smooched up. Anna and I wondered around until I found myself lost on the dance floor. Fine by me. I continued people watching and dancing.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a table of about 8 men in a celebration of some sort. As I watched, one of the men spank the other on the left cheek bottom, they noticed me and  their stare turned my way, smiling at their action. So... I had to intervene.
I got closer and through a gesture of a slapping hand in the air, asked if I could do the same!
Ayayaya... They looked delighted by the idea and the good-looking trendy man in a white shirt and jeans offered the left cheek of his bottom by bending close to me. It was not to be missed.
I spanked him gently.
"Harder. Harder." Came the shout of his companions all gathered around, thrilled as 'school boys'.
So I hit harder.
"Now my turn." Offered the cheeky victim.
I gathered he meant, his turn to spank me! Oh dear, Haldita. What situations do I get myself into?!
Guess fair is fair. Had to pay my dues.
The same man then came closer and offering his body said: "You can do anything you want to me now."
With all the ideas going through my naughty mind, I put my right hand under his loose white shirt and tickled his stomach, going up to his chest.
His mates were all clapping with excitement!

At this stage, I heard my name being called.
"Haldita... Haldita. What's happening? Let's go." Heidi was there to save me from further mischief.
It was time to go and I was dragged out of there, sulking as a child, leaving her playmates behind. 

On the last day of our visit, we drove to Sintra, half an hour from Lisbon. I had no idea of the state of reverie this place was going to take me! The magnificence of 'Quinta da Regaleira'.

The origins of this Quinta (palace and estate) date back to 1697, when Jose Leite purchased the tract of land at the old quarter of Sintra. Through the decades, it passed hand in hand.

At the beginning of this century, Carvalho Monteiro, a man of great culture with a law degree, invited Luigi Manini, a great Italian architect (1848-1936) to design and build the house at Regaleira.

A fabulous assemblage of styles and constructions of gardens, wells, towers, statues, mysterious grottoes with exceptional characteristics gave an air of magic to the whole surround.

The project was completed in 1910 by Manini.
The Quinta da Regaleira was purchased in March 1997 by the Sintra Town Council to be opened to visitors.

There was an element of surprise on every corner we turned. A memorable day, repeated ten months later with Sinalda. I had to go back and feel the magic of the place again.

Before I leave, the words of a friend touched me deeply today. He wrote to me...
'To combine passion with imagination and curiosity can be electric.'

RESPECT

I have nothing to hide behind... My shield is my love... It comes with respect. There are always boundaries; however large or small. Don't unduly step out of your boundary or I bite! How do I bite? I go silent and disappear as fast as I appeared.

Every situation or person is placed on our paths with a purpose. It may be to strengthen you, offer you an opportunity to resolve or forgive the past, give you an idea in the spare of the moment which could be life-changing, love you for who you are... and on and on. Concentrate on making your life purpose, your goal... Peace and Happiness. Bring on your own joy; live a life of satisfaction and fulfilment. It's not that difficult, I promise. At least... Try!
I went to my second fencing lesson last week with a different attitude.
'This is gonna be good.'
'I'll concentrate on having fun, no need to conquer. Learn technic and enjoy!' The only way forward.
And as it turned out, I did enjoy my class. Julianna the teacher asked if I had been practicing at home!
Sure... Not! Nevertheless, I am grateful she insisted that I join.

It is all about one's attitude. Having said that... There is a, however!

What is loyalty?  In this modern age, the good old values of human behaviour are fast being replaced by greed, more than ever.  It is easy to meet people and want to believe they come from a good place within. However, there are always those who are opportunists. They will be your friend when it suits them, only to sell that friendship at a drop of a hat to the next possible buyer. As though, the rules of the jungle have reversed. Animals are getting tamed and as for us humans... the law of the jungle rules!  I guess we are animals after all.

Money talks amongst most. It gives power and boosts the ego of those who constantly have a need to prove themselves to others. I have no agenda against wealth. Nor against capitalism.  Some of the most giving and generous people are amongst those well-to-do people. What I am getting at, is Respect with a capital R.

You know how it is, when you need a message, it comes to you through a page in a book or the words of a song? We went to Supperclub again on Friday with Connor and a dear friend we met through him; Shane. Shane had been away, on a long hike, visiting an orphanage in the Everest base camp.
"Can't wait to hear about your trip," I said impatiently.
"It was definitely enjoyable. The trek was challenging both physically and mentally and I did suffer from altitude sickness. But seeing the smile on those young faces, was most rewarding."  Answered Shane very modestly.
"That's why they chew those coca leaves in South America." Hala continued: "They brought us coca tea as soon as we sat to rest while trekking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. It helped me immensely with the altitude."

Life is not all about taking, we have to give something back.
Well done to you Shane.

We spent a pleasurable evening dancing and I kept bumping into friends unexpectedly. It was like having a party 'chez moi'! A big thanks to dear Jeremy who makes me feel so at home there.

Now to get back to my point... As the last song to end the evening, the DJ played Aretha Franklin's song; respect. 'All I want is a little respect'. Due to its popularity, in the 1970s, Franklin's version of the song came to exemplify the feminist movement.

It is easy to wrong others for our shortcomings. But before you judge, gossip or make someone wrong, stop for a moment and think whether you yourself have not acted in a similar way, given the chance at some stage in your life? I got judged recently by a friend who made me wrong for something she does constantly... A very personal matter which is of no hurt to anyone, it puzzled and upset me. Then came on the song... 'Respect' and that is all I am asking... Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It's all about Respect. Especially to our elders.

Saturday was fireworks at Battersea Park to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night which is an annual celebration held primarily around 5 November in Great Britain. A group of us gathered to watch the display across the Thames with thousands of spectators lining up all along. The traffic was at a standstill and the fireworks were splendid. Watching it always makes me feel like a happy child.

We came home for a rest before Hala and I headed to meet up with old and new friends, yet again, at our favourite club. What a special night with Luciano; the fabulous DJ blowing our minds with his music. The house DJs Terry Francis and Craig Richard were outstanding too.  Oh, what a night!

Angel, my mum and Hala were leaving on Sunday. I don't like saying goodbyes. We have spent a very precious time together.

It pays off to try and work out any family issues. It is my biggest reward in life, to be close to 'loved' ones.

A visit to sunny Israel...

How about taking you on an adventure, on a trip...

It was a few years ago in November that we were thinking of a destination to visit, to top up our tan and soak up more sun before winter hit us. Hala went holiday hunting and returned home with a smile and said: "Hey Sis, I've a great idea for our autumn sun and exercise with Club Med at their resort in Eilat."
"Hala, you mean Eilat as in Israel?" I questioned.
"Yes. As you can be fussy, Linda at Club Med reassured me that the place has been newly refurbished and it'll be still warm at this time of year to swim comfortably." Hala was persistent.
"Then, brilliant darling. Let's do it." My mind can be so easily set with fresh ideas.
But I was not quite settled into the idea as we did not know anyone there. So, I went online to check out the resort. While doing so, the naughtiness took the better of me and I drifted the mouse to an online dating site for Israel. Oh Oh!

Going through a few profiles and photos, I made a selection and contacted a couple of guys who in turn got back. One was Haim in Eilat and the other Yuri in Tel Aviv.
Haim seemed to be simple, straightforward and 'nice'. Not quite one to stimulate the mind but pleasant enough to perhaps meet.
Chatting to Yuri, on the other hand, was fun and exciting. He was sharp. Here is how.

Texting to and fro.
Yuri: "Can you send a recent photo?"
Me: "Is it my body or my face you are after?"
Yuri: "Neither... It's your wit I'm after!"
Me: "Baby... That's not gonna come out in a photo!"
Yuri: "It's in the eyes."

Mmmm... I thought. Now this is up my valley.
Before taking off, our ongoing texting continued.
Yuri: "Are you getting ready?"
Me: "If u mean for u...  No need to get... I am ready. But how do we meet when you are in Tel Aviv and I'm in Eilat?"
Yuri: "We'll sort something out."

Upon arrival at Ovda airport; a large warehouse-type of building, in the middle of the desert on the border with Egypt and Jordan, Hala and I were questioned by the customs for two and a half hours while other travellers made their way out. The same questions were asked over and over again by two big, tough young ladies followed by their chief, a harsh-looking older man with not a trace of a smile on his face, who came to us and said finally: "We were going to send you back but there are no more flights for today, so we shall let you in. We called you another taxi. But for now, you have to go and wait outside as we're closing the airport and all leaving now."
How gracious!
Grrrrreat... Thanks, buddy!
The sun was setting behind the hills. A mini-bus pulled outside the fenced area as we watched in disbelief, sitting on our suitcases in total bewilderment, as the staff left the vicinity. It was just Sis and I, on a hill, with miles of desertland around us and oh, with the border of Jordan in sight. 

"If only our friends could see us now! We're mad." Hala said.
"Think they'll flip if they were here. Guess we're adventurous!" I smiled back.
Our waiting came to an end before darkness set upon us, and the taxi arrived. Phew.

It was a week of sun, swimming and... not very friendly faces! The only people we really connected with were the sweet girl serving at meal times who took in our friendliness and smile with a kind gesture of looking after us so well. And the older French couple with whom we had a few laughs over supper.

My first date was with Avi who arrived to pick us up at the ClubMed in a truck! Yep. 

I had mentioned that I shall be accompanied by my sister as a chaperone. 

He drove us to a bar in town and told us about his life in a Kibbutz. His life was based on agriculture. He had two kids with a partner but from what I gathered, they lived their lives individually as they pleased within the community. Interesting but certainly not my type. He drove us back to our domain and my goodbye felt more like, don't call me, I'll call you. 

During the next few days, Yuri and I talked and texted until he was intrigued enough to fly down to Eilat for the afternoon just to meet me. Cool.
The Sunday midday arrived and I went to greet him at the entrance of the club. As I stood in my bikini and a wrap, my eyes covered by dark sunglasses, I noticed a tall, dark stranger standing by the guard with a polo shirt, dark trousers and a briefcase, looking across at me. You would think he had come for an office meeting, only by the sea. Well, he had. Just a different kind of meeting. It was an interesting rendezvous, to say the least. 

At the end of the week, upon return home, at the Ovda airport, we were questioned yet again for two hours.
A younger girl who seemed sweeter than any other we had come in contact with in customs asked me: "How long have you lived in England?"
I answered with a smile: "Da'ling, I went there most probably long before you were born!"
She was becoming too friendly it seemed, so she was replaced by another girl for further questioning. Not enough... They kept asking whether we had met anyone or talked to anyone outside the ClubMed. Frankly, it was none of their business.

Finally, an older lady who must have been 'the chief' that day comes over to me, holding my British passport in her left hand, flicking it close to my face, she asks away:
"Have you been in touch with anyone here in Israel?" She asked abruptly.
As I caught Hala's stare, with a 'What are you gonna answer to this?' kind of look, without any hesitation, I answered:
"No."
"What were you doing in Lebanon six months ago?"  She then asked.
Oooops... Had not taken into account that the Lebanese stamp on our passport could have been a problem! But it was the umph time this was being asked of me by the customs. What the heck.
So I answered in all honesty: "I was partying every night till morning. It was so much fun!"
The woman in charge turned a different page, she then asked: "Do you know what's happening in Israel?"
I was surprised and asked accordingly: "Is there anything happening in Israel? I just spent a week here, sure didn't seem like anything was going on!" 
By now, the woman was looking at me with a look of 'Honey, you're not a blonde', (with all due respect to all the lovely blondes, just an expression), 'You're not 6 foot tall and neither are you skinny', so... 'what's wrong with you?'
So I continued: "Honestly... I don't watch the news, don't read newspapers, have no idea. I just love travelling."
Well, I made her smile as she handed me my passport and said: "It's ok. You can go."

Back in London, Yuri and I met a few other times on his business trips here.  We always got on well and had a good laugh.  On one trip, I went back to his room in one of London's top hotels and as we were getting cosy, I asked: "Now... Don't tell me you got a no-smoking room?!"
"Yes," he replied.
Then we got even cosier and I asked: "Do you happen to have any condoms?"
"No," he answered.
"So tell me, baby... Did they give you a special rate for a no-smoking, no-fucking room?" I said it.
That cracked Yuri up and we roared with laughter as I left the room.

Judge me all you want I say... I'm having a ball writing my memoirs. Thank you for the support of my amazing readers, friends and loving souls. When I get private mail from friends across the globe telling me how courageous I am writing so freely. I thank you for the depth of your understanding. Yes, my dear friends, it takes balls to be free.

Be Free.  

Be Happy.

Are you looking for obstacles... Instead of magic?

What a glorious weekend it has been.

It began with a dinner party at home on Friday. I have learnt to invite guests, more than the capacity of my living room allows as a quarter to half the people cancel last minute. That's fine.  We always have a good time with the ones who do turn up and miss the ones who don't... Well, kind of.

Let me talk to you about family.
Talking to many people over the years with an open heart, it has come to my attention how difficult it is to adjust to the behaviour of family members. Do you realise that the most difficult obstacles put our way through our dearest and the closest people to us? How many of you can honestly say that you never had a problem with your mother? Your sister or brother? Or your kids? Never mind, your partner!

I have been quite lucky as it has been an easy ride to have an understanding mother and great siblings who I have adored and loved dearly. A father who through time and my endless letters to him, came to understand and loved me with all my tantrums; the ones I could only throw at him and be forgiven for them. My father had reminded me many times how his father (my grandfather who had passed away years before I was born) had never kissed him. When I finally visited home years ago, after not seeing him for 8 years due to the political situation in our country, he was standing at the airport, crying. I would never forget his loving tears and the look in his eyes that could only express how much he loved and missed me.  This man had more love, understanding and feelings in him than life and family had allowed him to express. Could I forgive myself now, for the six months that I did not speak to him because he had made me mad with his 'what seemed at the time' non-understanding ways? Yes, I can. What has passed is past, guilt is the worst feeling to put on oneself. It does not serve any purpose. But our loving relationship continued on till I last saw him, a year ago.

Families are not easy to deal with. Just imagine we are born, even as twins, with different characters, different goals, and different feelings. Siblings don't have it easy. There is always a feeling of why did my parent do this for her/him and not me? Why do parents make differences between their children? Why is every member of your close family questioning your way and telling you what you should be doing as opposed to what you like to be doing? Can you see yourself acting in a way that you would not have normally done, despite what your mum or dad told you? Just imagine all the sagas of family life.
Then think of how to make that difference in your family.
'How much love and understanding can one have?' As much as one wishes. Are YOU ready to make those changes? Keep questioning your ways. You may surprise even yourself at the outcome of how changing your patterns to ones of more loving and caring can affect the whole picture.

Stop judging and making every decision members of your family make, wrong. Try and look at their views with more understanding of where they are coming from. Try to help each other through the obstacles and instead... Turn your relationship into magic with a loving heart.
Have I always had an easy ride with my family? No. But we have all been willing to learn from our mistakes and make more of an effort in having respect for our individuality and the paths we choose. It takes two to tango. So... sure, it is not just up to us, the other person has to be willing to make the necessary changes too. But we can begin by having more understanding and love.  The key word here is... Forgiveness.

Now to go back to the weekend.
Saturday was spent clearing up after the party with Hala and getting ready for the night out at Supper Club. It was Troy, our dear friend's farewell party which he had organised for a bed of twenty of his close friends, turning up for a fun evening. I say bed as there are no tables and chairs in Supper Club, but beds. To give you an idea, I took some photos of the acts performed while being served a four-course meal, almost lying on the beds.

Now this act... The actor removed his sleeves, stapling his arm which is bleeding in this photo.  Partially watching this act in disbelief, I had to hide behind Robby not to be further disturbed. Why? But why is it necessary to shock in this manner? I wonder how many people enjoyed watching this while chewing on the steak served for dinner?
'What is the world coming to?' Would be my mum asking.
In the above photo, he 'drank' or what other word could I use for someone taking a glass of liquid through a straw from his nose?!

Then came the next act. What Troy's brother, Tris called 'the biscuit'. Have a look. What would you call this?
Loved the shoes!

After dinner, in the tiny cage-like smoking area, I met the three boys dressed up for Halloween who kindly allowed me to take photos. I love the no-smoking ban. In fact, started smoking again since!  It is the best place to meet people. At least there is interaction amongst like-minded people.

Another impressive act was to follow.

The club got filled with new arrivals dancing to the great tunes of the fabulous DJ playing great dance music.  House, of course, is my favourite.  As Hala and I walked past the DJ who I had heard and seen there many times before, grabbed us each by our waist, in a friendly manner.  

He then took my hand to kiss and said: "It always makes me happy to see you here, you always smile."

Aaaahhh... How cute is that?  And this is not the first time I've been remembered for my smile.

When you smile... The world smiles back at you.

We all had to leave the club at 2 am as opposed to 3, as the clocks had changed every year at the last weekend of October. The energy around with the great vibe we were feeling was too high to end the night.  So... What next? The 'criminal sisters' with Troy and two other couples wanted more. The night was young... We continued on to our very favourite rave club till God's early morning light began to appear before we headed home for some sleep  A friend once said: "Sleep is overrated!"  

You will only get bored now if I told you we were invited out on Sunday night for a 10 pm dinner at Roko by a couple friends; Essy and his partner. Only to bump into Troy and Tris outside the restaurant and all came back to us for a nightcap.

"Where do you get your energy?" Charlotte asked as she called to get an update on the weekend.

"I get it from all the love I give and more so... All the love I get back." That was my straight answer.