There is a lesson in every situation

And life back in Londres!  Why Londres as opposed to London... It must be the influence of my recent Latin American connections.

Fausto had returned from his two weeks in Cambodia and we were to meet outside Sloane Square station for a bite to eat. He delayed the meeting to an hour later, meanwhile, Lola called and popped in to see me. We did not have a chance to talk at a dinner she had given a couple of nights prior, celebrating Hanna's belated birthday. I texted Fausto to re-route and come over to me for dinner, while Lola asked Don to join us with a surprise guest who turned out to be Juan Manuel. My Girl who happened to pass by, also decided to stay which made the table of six complete for a light supper.

At Juan Manuel's curiosity on how Fausto and I met, Fausto simply said:

"Oh!  Haldita and I met, fell in love at first glance and she's the reason for my visit to London."

Looking at his tanned, strong features and how he so quickly came up with the story, for a moment, even I believed the tale.

"Ah!" Juan Manuel went on, "I know, you met in Caracas, or no... Wait a minute, I know, it must 'ave been Choroni."

Juan Manuel seemed so convinced with this conclusion, that we decided to play the guessing game.

But he was not quite persuaded by my response:

"So, what else is new?" I asked smiling.

But eventually, he decided to relieve him of the aggravation by telling him the truth of the matter. 

"We simply met through a mutual friend before Fausto's trip to Cambodia, in London."  

Hence, the drink around the corner with my friend soon turned into a small dinner party at home.  I love spontaneous gatherings like this.

During the week, I visited Troy at his new pub, where he was busy re-decorating the place, soon to become one of the city's gastro pubs.  

Last night, I called on Salar, in his new high-rise apartment in Canary Wharf and met his college friend; Rodolfo, now visiting London with his wife, Tatti, all the way from Sao Paulo, accompanied by their scientist friend; Roberta, originally from Lisbon. It was a stunning view from the glass balcony, watching the sun set over the tall buildings and the river Thames.  When I mentioned being invited by dear friends to many different destinations around the globe, Tatti sweetly added:

"So, now you're invited to Sao Paulo, you must come and visit us."

Later tonight, Salar messaged me to say:

'Hellloooo gorgeoussss'

Me: 'Had a few friends over for dinner. They just left.  EARLY

Salar: 'I went to see Batman and the only thing I could see was a friend of my friend's girlfriend's tits!'

'Aaaaagggghhh'

Me: 'Hahaha.  They were exceptional I presume. Or even simply good?'

Salar: 'Never seen something like that before ...  Will tell you more tomorrow'

Me: 'Can't wait to hear about them... Tomorrow 12... SW4.'

Salar: 'Hahaha.  Finally SW4'

I have come to realise, that a good reason for my being single is having so many wonderful friends, who keep my time occupied with their great company. However, a woman has her needs and I recall arranging to meet up with Henry one afternoon. We had been in touch through an online dating site for some time. There was a time, some months ago when we organised a rendezvous at a pub near me. However, Troy had called to meet up earlier at the park, we continued on to lunch in Charlotte Street and headed on to have more drinks at the Waterway in Maida Vale, when my mobile rang at 3.30pm and I picked up:

"Hellooo," I answered, "Oh!  Henry, it's you. How are you?"

"Haldita," Henry said coldly, "We were supposed to meet."

"What?" I questioned, "To meet?  But... Is it Tuesday? Mmm... Oh My God, it is."

"You forgot?" Henry asked knowingly.

"I'm sorry," I said apologetically, "I totally forgot. So sorry."

"That's alright." He was understanding.

However, with a few drinks down the line, I continued in a jolly mode:

"Oh! But I met up with my friend Troy and we had such a wonderful time walking in Regent's Park and continued on to lunch. I'm being honest here. Can't believe I just forgot. I totally understand if you don't want to meet again."

However, this attitude seemed to have the opposite effect on Henry and he kept on chatting with me on MSN and we finally arranged to meet up, at the same pub months later.

On the day, due to the pouring rain, I simply could not be bothered to leave my flat and when Henry called before the meeting to make sure of my appearance, I insisted he came to see me at home for a drink, without any expectations. I even explained how I could not come out in my suede, cream sandals in that ghastly weather.

Although, not quite convinced at first, he soon gave in to the idea. When he turned up at my door, there stood a tall, distinctive-looking Brit, with salt and pepper hair, in a dark suit.  Henry sat on the sofa, as far away from me as he possibly could and sipped on his drink, a slight twist of intimidation visible in his manners. No element of surprise to me, as I tried to make him feel comfortable, conversing on various topics.  

As the afternoon progressed, I seemed to be getting closer to Henry on the sofa, every time I returned to my seat, after a refill, some nibbles etc and at one point, we were getting quite intimate when I looked at his face going red as a beetroot, pulled away and asked:

"Are you alright Henry?"

"No... No," He answered, "I've never done this before. This is a first."

"What?" That was my surprised reaction. "You've never done what before exactly?"

"Please understand, I'm totally flattered but I've never been unfaithful," he uttered. "I'm married."  He went on to say: "I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

I was taken quite aback, as I pulled away to the other side of the sofa while pushing my hair up and making sure my attire was 'proper' and said:

"Yap, It's your fault alright. But you've led me on to believe otherwise all this time!"

He was about to leave when I said:

"No, sit down a moment. Just listen, now that we're here. I can say two things have been fully established. The first one is... I'm no longer into any married man of any sort and the other... You better stay faithful to your lady. You're obviously not cut out for this sort of thing. When you lose, don't lose the lesson." 

And on that note... The word 'next' came to mind.

Two weeks in sunny Tehran

OML... As in Oh My Lord!

It was on Wednesday, almost three weeks ago, that I decided to visit my family in Tehran. The internet was at hand, the ticket was booked for Sunday, and my Girl accompanied me on the visit.
This was also the reason for not writing my blog for the length of my stay away.  
You see...  Although we had WIFI at home, there are restrictions for tapping into sites such as Facebook, YouTube or blogs; you need a VPN to log on. Bloggers have been caught and punished severely, mainly for political content I am not interested in. 

As my stay was only for two weeks, I decided to put my passion aside and concentrate on my family and friends... Oh! And catching up on some well-needed sleep. Which is precisely what I did. Time is short, whether on a trip or in life.  

I saw my mum, recovering at home, lying horizontally in front of the TV screen for most part of the day. Mind you, this has been one of her favourite pastimes for many years now. I recall telling her once:
"Mum, you watch so much news I sometimes wonder whether you plan to get into journalism!"
She would smile at me in the sweetest ways and get back to her news as though to say, mind your own business, girl. I do love my mum.  
I even got glued in to watch a nightly series, Moroccan, Mexican dubbed in Farsi. It was a routine family affair. 
Back in high school, I once wrote an essay about 'Mother' on Mother's Day in Persian, and when handing out the graded papers, our teacher, the only lady teacher to come to class in a black veil, was a chador. She said:
"Before I hand out the papers, I'd like to ask one of you to come up for the first time and read her essay to us." She continued: "I read this, and it touched me in a way I couldn't stop crying."
We all looked at one another in surprise; in a class of 42 students (if I remember that figure correctly as it was many decades ago!), the teacher announced my name aloud!
I was shy and quiet at school. However, I do remember reading my four-page essay aloud and finishing to look up towards not a dry face in that classroom. The only sentence I recall was... and your tear drops like a pearl falling down your face. 

If I have one regret, it would be losing that essay after leaving my hometown to attend boarding school in the UK. Oh well, there is the choice of writing another one now, all those years later. 

As a mother... To my mother

Oh, my Dear Mamma
You have been my first love
The one given to me from the Lord above
Watching your positive attitude
Your smile and all the gratitude
The liberties you have granted me
With all the love you have wanted me
You taught me 'the beauty of life.'
From the plants to a stream and the joy of jive
Your tear as a pearl flowing down your gentle skin
Life is but what you make it, as light and sharp as a pin
Mamma, if for any reason I've questioned your ways
It's not of blame, but learning to make changes in days
To make the world a better place to live
Flow the love freely and certainly know to give
Also, this I got from you, the stubbornness in my attitude
I smile and count it a way forward with all my gratitude
Mamma, I adore You.

Tehran was fun. Although it was Ramadan and the restaurants and coffee shops were closed till dusk, we could use our pool during the day without making any noise, in case the sound of having fun was heard in the street. Especially since any public swimming pools in private gyms, etc, separated by gender, were closed as swimming would wet your lips, and fasting is encouraged by the government. Frankly, I hardly came across anyone fasting!

In the Iranian culture, we were encouraged to call our parents good friends, aunts and uncles. We got invited to an aunt's intimate dinner party, where we sang, danced and caught up with everyone's news. It was Angel, mamma's first outing after a while, but surrounded by all the love, we did not get back till 1am.
I was introduced to a lady who used to be a renowned actress, and frankly, looking at her, she had barely changed; she was just as stunning in person now as when I last saw her at my parents' parties decades ago, before the 1979 Iranian revolution. Pouri was directly involved in many charities, especially with orphans. Hala had told me she had visited her in one of the orphanages, which happened to be in a house that once belonged to our family, which the government had confiscated. At least they made good use of that environment.  

I had a confession to make to Pouri:
"May I tell you how much I adore you and how beautiful you are? You haven't changed since I was a child."
She hugged me warmly; those good deeds shone through her whole being. Without a trace of work done, in her natural beauty, she was pure elegance. Pouri offered to take a photo with my girl and couriered her old movies to our apartment the following day.  
My aunt and her two daughters, with whom we grew up, made the evening delightful to be cherished.

Hala and I went to Jade's pool party from midday on the weekend and were greeted warmly by her family and friends living in Tehran. Her cousin, the artist, has been painting in silence behind closed doors for many years, using surrealistic themes in black charcoal with touches of red, creating thoughtful messages of which the world had been deprived. Her loving, strong mother was the reason for Jade's return to live in her city of birth, who welcomed us with open arms.

And my wonderful brother Soltan and his adorable lady Tuba, who have been so supportive, looking after our mum with so much love.  Several evenings, they drove us to the private surroundings of the member's club in the middle of the city, consisting of a significant open Food Court at the entrance, a golf course in the middle of the vast grounds, many available tennis courts, squash courts, bowling alleys and a padded ground to walk and jog around the closed-off arena.  Think I forgot to mention the separate swimming pools.  The place is called 'Bashgahe Enghelab'.  As eftar began (the time to eat at dusk), the various restaurants opened for business, and food was served.  The dress code was no skirts for the ladies, people dressed in fancy track-suits and what can only be called exciting outfits, with the latest head covers for the women and Western caps for the men.  Best place for people watching.

If it wasn't for my plane ride back aboard a full Emirates flight via Dubai to London, which was a disaster, my two weeks in Tehran would have been memorable, and I would have come back with a fulfilled soul.  However, OML, on the seven-hour journey, I sat next to a lady covered in a thick vale with two small children. Despite my plea to the stewardess about being allergic to small children on flights, never mind BO, she apologetically informed me of the entire flight and no spare seats. I tried to concentrate on two movies while the lady next to me fell asleep, and her punch of the elbow in my back made me jump through the pressure of the seat belt.  She slapped her two-year-old by the window seat a few times as the poor child made the slightest of noises, then shouted at her in their native language. At one stage, I woke up to the sound of her baby passing wind, sleeping almost on my lap! I mean, Really... I went to the stewardess in tears towards the end of the flight and begged her for her seat, even if momentarily. Which was granted to me with a glass of Shiraz.  

All I said at the end of the flight to my neighbour from hell, in imperfect English so she could perhaps understand, was:
"You... No more children."
She seemed surprised, now looking pleasantly at her off-springs and asked: 
"No?  Why no?"
Thank God...The plane had landed; I just picked up my bag and left in despair.

Home ...  Bliss, home again.

A Shooting Star

Life is full of beautiful surprises. Chin up!

Earnest had heard that Saturn is playing up with our mood, and as a result, there have been many upheavals in our daily lives. Who needs this?! If it's here, let's try and handle it the best way possible, positively. 

Trying to keep fit during my week in London, boxing with Paolo was an excellent start for releasing tensions.  Today, attending Aaron's reformer pilates class helped me accomplish my task further.  Lunch was at the pub with Salar, who is always a pleasure to meet.

In the evening, Sabet had asked to join him and a bunch of good old friends I had not seen for a gathering at the private members' club, Home House. Before joining the others, I met with Sophie for a drink at a nearby bar for a 'catch-up'. As we got to the entrance of Home House, Sabet had just arrived with Sinalda and two great friends from the past, Mia and Olivia. I met Mia as a teenager through a mutual, dear friend, Reza Abdo, an avant-garde playwright who left this world a while back but whose soul enlightens my life every time I think of him; he had brought us together so long ago. There were familiar faces amongst the crowd, standing in the garden of the private club. Including a lady I managed to mistake for her mother (as young as she looked)! However, she did not quite understand my blunder, as we had also recently met at another event. Phew! The day was saved.
The perfect summer's evening after the day's rainfall.  


Pedro joined, and the evening continued at Mia and her sister Olivia's house. Seeing Olivia's beautiful daughters all grown up, greeting me with such warmth after all these years, was an absolute delight. Sarvi blew me away with her new CD and her enchanting words. As we danced to her music, Sinalda and I recalled our trip to Rome a decade ago, where I danced helplessly on a stool in the middle of the VIP area of the club and how, the next day, we tried to hi-jack the latest BMW model of our lawyer host, in the petrol station, outside the city, taking us to lunch in a chateau, as he visited the gents!


It has been a trying time for me recently.  
The news of Mama's operation, although she sounds as cheerful as always, recovering well.  
Recently, the man who appeared in my life made me realise it's best to stay alone. My mind has been preoccupied with ongoing thoughts about my family and future.  


I asked myself: 'Could it be that men are from Mars, which means they are senseless, and women are from Venus, which means they are too complicated regarding relationships?' When made simple and honest, things are more accessible, but even that causes confusion for most!  
'Is it a question of cultural differences that doesn't make things easier? In this day and age?'
We are a species able to communicate through words. Why is it we can't get it right? Why so much aggravation? The complexity of the brain, mixed with our past experiences, can surely leave us confused... In bewilderment. 

The most astonishing experience of the evening... As Mia was leaving with Tony, giving her a ride home, Olivia walked to accompany me to my car. In a matter of seconds, we both looked up at the clear sky through the buildings surrounding us, and there shone in front of our wide-open eyes... A flashing shooting star!  Wow.

Then I remembered reading the ending of the note written by my bedside as I left home earlier for the evening... Something extraordinary is gonna happen.
While there is faith, there is hope. Nothing to complain about.

The other day, leaving the gates of a building with my girl, I heard a charming, older black man delivering a package say to me randomly:
"Looks like the sun's coming out!"
In a rush, I helplessly answered: "Thank God."
He smiled and said: "It's been many years, my dear, since I heard someone say that... Thank God."
Upon reflection, in a surprise, I affirmed: "Really? I say it all the time."

And Thank God

Que sera sera... Whatever will be, will be

Goodness! Don't you just get puzzled by all the names in this blog? Coz I do.


Just to prove the heights of my surreal life, let me tell you about today.
The glorious sunny and warm morning began, after meditation, with a visit to the Town Hall, to renew my parking permit for another year. I decided to dress up and wear platform shoes, just in case the day progressed onto further ventures. And boy did it just!  
After, came a quick lunch at Electric in Notting Hill, with Ernest, accompanied by his warm friend Kyli; visiting London, who sweetly asked me to get in touch if I ever made my way to Sydney. A place I have always considered too far to travel to unless I had some good excuse to get there.  Dancing at the Nammos beach in Mykonos, I also met three fun girls and guys from this city.  Tiny world.


Next was, buying paint with my Girl and planning our travel next week exciting me to be spending time together, visiting family. She is God's absolute blessing to me.
I dropped off the fruit shopping at Portobello Market home and decided to take a bus to Soho.  


Who was I meeting in Soho but the adorable, svelte, gentle-mannered Lior; whom we met two months previously at a first birthday party where Rory had introduced us. On that day, Lior's kind look got me talking to him endlessly about being retained at a deserted airport in Ovda.  I was so glad to have contacted him earlier this week and his spontaneous invitation to accompany him and his visiting friend Fausto for drinks was accepted with pleasure. He had texted:
'Haldita, I want you to meet my lovely friend Fausto, he's almost as mad as you. Can you do 6-8 today in Soho?'
I wrote: 'Perfect. Yes. Where?'


That is how the evening began at a great outdoor bar in Soho with Lior and Fausto; a gorgeous Latino, with strong features and the most hearwarming smile. It felt as though I had known the boys for ages, our connection was so pure and loving. Lior had to leave and I was left with Fausto then joined by his flamboyant artist friend; Aldo.  As we got better acquainted, the couple next to us; the Brazilian girl with her French partner, also visiting this magnificent city from Nantes made an ensemble to converse further over dinner at Randall & Aubin's. We all got chatting happily until after our meal, the couple had a major argument, the French boyfriend through cash and a card for their hotel room on the table in front of the Brazilian girl and disappeared. The chica abandoned us in a black cab after her man and Fausto, Aldo and I left the restaurant puzzled at their strange reaction! In any case, it was a bizarre night with me leaving in very high spirits after having made such super new friends.  
And I thought it was gonna be a quiet night at home! How wonderful.


Still so much to reminisce about my trip to Mykonos but it was a special day I wanted to have in writing.