Sleepless in Puglia - Italy

The body heals with play
The mind heals with laughter
The spirit heals with joy.
And so, let us heal ourselves by playing with laughter and joy.

The week after Kemer passed so fast, beginning with an invite to a Henna Night at Aisha's, dressed in National costumes. Only do the nationals really dress as glamorous as the party I attended? Middle Eastern designers' works show the utmost sophistication in model-like ladies. From the flower arrangements commencing at the entrance lobby to the candle-lit dinner table filled with the most delicious food, musicians, and especially belly dancers who managed to get my blood flowing!  

The bride and groom looked like the most charismatic picture of beauty, youth, and happiness.

I had to hit the Harvey Nick's and Harrods sale of swimsuits to prepare for summer's globe-trotting on various beaches. There was yet another puncture in the exact tire of my car to be taken care of; it's all the builders' renovations around me to be blamed for. Once there was a big screw deep in the tire, this time, there was a glass cut. Am I parking on a building site? Oh well, nothing that cannot be fixed, especially with the excellent Carlo, my friend and a great mechanic who looks after me like no other.

Visited the Anglesea Arms (pub) twice; once for a birthday drink with Julie, whom I met in the boot camp, and the other with Hala and Ernest after a sunny lunch on the rooftop of Soho House and a visit to the Pertwee Anderson & amp; Gold gallery of a couple (friends of Ernest's) to view the works of Nancy Fouts hung on the walls on display for their upcoming exhibition. Absolutely loved it.
There was also the evening when Hala texted me to join her and Massimo at his friend Lukas's barge in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. That was my first, and Lukas was the most welcoming host. Our conversation about life's deja vu, how our magic planet ticks and the power of positive being and out-of-body experiences was enchanting.

One of the proudest moments of my life came about when I watched my girl on her graduation day, which was a first for me. I never attended my own, the Ex's, or my Boy's graduation. None of us in the family seemed to have the need, but this time, I did have tears of joy in my eyes. It was also fulfilling to find my Ex beside me, in harmony and friendship; I recall telling him with a big smile:
"Darling, what am I to do with you?!"
All the years spent together could not have been a better lesson that life could have taught ... Live in peace and harmony with yourself and the world around you.  
Blessed... I truly feel.

Last Thursday, the 7:30am flight to Brindisi only left me a little time to sleep; after finishing my blog by midnight, I had packing to do. Again, so last minute dot com! Kristel picked me up at 5:00am, which meant no rest for the wicked. But sleeping on aeroplanes is something I have adopted well along my travels. Arriving in Puglia and feeling the warm air of the beginning of summer, something we had missed terribly in London, we were driven to the serene grounds of Borgo Egnazia and checked into our spacious, creamy room and unpacked comfortably in the massive cupboard space, getting ready for the beach. It's so much quicker to empty than packing.

Once at the seaside, I saw Aisha moving swiftly on the lawn where the white Rocky restaurant was located by the blue Adriatic sea, mingling amongst their guests. At the same time, Kristel and I, after the hellos, settled on the wooden chairs by a square table in the outdoor restaurant for a salad lunch and delicate, I admit, some irresistible pasta.

 The evening was followed by dinner set amongst the village-like narrow streets of the hotel grounds, on different stands, varying from pizza being freshly made, to the grilled fish and meat being barbecued over the fire, to the salad and the naughty deserts that brought a sparkle to the 'gourmand' (hungry) eyes.  

The Piazza at Borgo Egnazia

The bride and groom appeared in their elegant garments to walk harmoniously through the crowd of their mesmerised guests, sitting at different tables, all set in the Piazza of the same grounds. There was talk of a rave party at another destination by the sea, close by.
My decision to attend was not a question but a must. We got off the bus in other magical surroundings with a top DJ playing next to the dance floor set by the sea. What joy it was to find Claudette there after an absence of eight years since we last partied together in London. She introduced me to her husband, Guido, and it was like having made two friends for the price of one! We danced the night away as Claudette kept picking up new additions to add to her costume, to end up with a pink feather around her neck, pink goggles on her forehead, bright pink and yellow lines drawn across her face (as they distributed face paint, as well as clear, colourful glasses, feathers, not to forget the goggles). I actually watched a long stretch of light break into the darkness of the night as the stars disappeared slowly to be replaced by this array of luminosity parallel above the horizontal sea line. It was like a miracle unveiling a light expanding through total darkness right before my eyes. What a fantastic experience that was! Shortly, the sun was shining when we were picked up, yet by another bus to go back to the Borgo in the morning.

The rocker bride and groom partied amongst their friends to the end. Chapeau to them, in every way. It was great to bump into Gina, amongst many of my fabric club buddies at the rave. Gina asked me to join her and other friends at their villa for a last night/morning cap before heading to my room to rest; finally... By this time, Kristel had awoken, and breakfast sounded more delicious than a dream, so we headed to eat instead of sleep.  

Coming of Light through Darkness

Another beautiful day, not only by nature but also by people, passed smoothly and restfully, with swims along the clear, blue seas of the Adriatic and 'love' floating around in the air.

The evening of the gipsy party arrived sooner than expected. We arrived at another magical destination with tables laid amongst an olive grove with wildflowers and candles set along everywhere. Upon arrival at the fairyland, the guests were served champagne and cocktails, and the experience was nothing short of appearing as a fairy in Peter Pan.
The musicians played in traditional costumes of colourful outfits with the folklore theme, and everyone carried a smile as captivating as the effort put into the dazzling clothes worn by all. It was like getting lost in a time zone with no indication of the era.  
As well as so many wonderful friends, Alexi kept me great company for a big part of the evening, after the performance of a well-known flamenco singer, accompanied by a male dancer, while I kept ordering mojitos, added some extra flavouring and having it disappear from my hand, while I requested for the next. There became a stage, with my flirtatious attitude, that the head of the barmen, a good-looking Italian fellow with salt and pepper hair, thought I had intentions towards him in my simple orders. The outbursts of laughter throughout the night and hanging out with Alexi made it another memorable time spent in joy. 
When we were driven back to our compound at around 4:00am, villa numbers were shouted for various after-parties to attend. I was re-routed to a villa of two great friends with an accompaniment of a handful of others. This would have been my third night up. When room service delivered the tray of burgers, I was literally handed a third of a hamburger, ate it without uttering a word, made my head comfortable on the sofa cushion, and fell fast asleep despite all the party.  

It must have been at least an hour later when one of our gracious hosts woke me up and directed me to the spare room of their villa, where I slept in my gipsy outfit! That certainly was a first for me.
The funniest thing was when I woke up in the morning at around 10:00am, I picked up the phone, dialled reception, and a lady answered:
"Good morning. Can I help you?"
I asked hazily: "Excuse me. Do you know where I am?"
The receptionist was most professional in her tone: "Yes, Madam. You're in villa 603."
My sigh of relief: "Thank God you know. Can you please send me a cart to return to my room?"
The receptionist could not hide the sound of her teasing smile: "Of course."
As I walked up the stairs back to the now empty living room filled with glasses, the two maids appeared, looking at my dishevelled hair, a dress obviously worn from the night before, a little antique bag hanging from one hand, and my bra in another! Great, look for 10:00am. Some gipsy look that must have been.

I asked them to come back later, and as they were leaving, one of my hosts walked down from the first floor with only a face towel hanging around his waist. The maids left in a hurry, giving me a second glance. My first host ensured everything was alright and went back up to follow the rest of his sleep, I only presume.
Then... the second charming host walked down in his shorts and a shirt when the guy with the cart rang the bell, and he opened the door to let me out. There now was the amused smile of the cart driver, while I realised sitting next to him, with the same look as the maids had observed earlier and that bra (let's face it, my boobs are not exactly tiny! haha) hanging out of that same little bag!
Only if they knew that my wonderful hosts were gay.  
At stages like this in life, all one can do is smile and let the course of action take its place. How boring would life be if we couldn't laugh at ourselves and what happens around us?

This was only the first two days of this magnificent wedding trip, and having hardly slept, I had made the most of every day and night, so the pleasure was double what time allowed.

The Big Night to follow ...

Kemer... Great Karma

Each of us has unique flaws, and our cracks and imperfections make our lives more exciting and rewarding.

As long as there is an appetite for learning, love and friendship, the rest 'doesn't matter. We all come and go in the same manner... 'Naked'.

Back in London, Aisha texted me for an invite to a party, which I had to decline.

Aisha: 'Are you coming tonight?'

Me: 'No, Darling. Sitting in front of the fireplace. Too cold to move!'

Aisha: 'It isn't that cold. Where's your hot-blooded character!!!'

Me: 'I know! It's been hiding somewhere. Think I need to smoke more weed! Haha. Or get out more.'

Aisha: 'Exactly. That's the Haldita I know. Yala. Get up!!!'
However, I didn't make it out that evening.

To change my mood, I will write and reminisce on our sunny trip to Turkey with Hala last week. It was a late decision (surprise, surprise) to book a trip with Club Med in search of sun and sea, not to forget fun. And so we left London's grey skies on the Wednesday after the Jubilee celebrations to fly the Monarch Airline (how appropriate!) to Antalya, followed by a ride with two newly made friends on a minibus, Dione and Millie. Girls having fun.

The holiday (almost embarrassed to repeat that word!  On the other hand, someone's got to do it. haha) was everything it promised. The sun shone daily upon us and shaded our tan a darker tone; the sea was clear and blue, a chilly but refreshing to swim in. The food 

is everything to write home about, and the entertainment is carried from the Saint Tropez Voile Rouge afternoon on the beach with mojitos to Ibiza-like foam parties in the day with D.J.s playing. Most entertaining.
The best part was sharing tables at meals and practising our French, as most of the visitors to Club Med are from France and Belgium.  

Hala and I began our travels with this French company, organised by our parents at boarding school here. The trips to exotic destinations took place all over the world, and in those days, travelling was a piece of cake compared to nowadays' hassle of being searched and questioned as though we were all terrorists. And yet, with the computer age, we can book trips at the tip of our fingers. We first went to Hawaii all those decades ago with Club Med, to the Hanalei Plantation on the island of Kauai. It was a true paradise with bungalows laying on a stretch almost off a cliff, carrying views of the green mountains ahead and the beach onto the ocean along the shoreline below us. We had a picnic organised on a bay where the movie 'King Kong' was filmed, and the only way it could be reached was by a helicopter where we carried large headphones playing classical music over our heads and were driven right close to the trees on the tall mountains to watch the scattered waterfalls across this magnificent view. We also visited the waterfall where South Pacific was filmed; the movie was filmed there, and it slid off into the lake below.  
Hala and I attempted to enter the disco in the evening after our parents had gone to bed, but our plan failed miserably as our hands were caught in a game of poker by one of the G.O.s, and we were shown the way out for being underage. Oh well, no harm in trying.
Shame I don't have pictures of those holidays. They were destroyed by a revolution. Hard to explain.

It's too bad the Club Med in Hawaii was closed shortly after our visit and fell back into the hands of a Japanese firm's original owners. This time round, we were in Kemer, Turkey.  
There was an over-18 in the Club, and no sign of children in sight. It took us a day or two to unwind and get accustomed to our surroundings, yet we managed immediately to top up that tan. Swimming daily in what must be one of the few clean waters in the Mediterranean Sea was bliss.  
The aquagym in the pool every morning was a must.  
We hardly left the surroundings, except for a couple of hours of shopping in Kemer. Another leather jacket was added to the wardrobe.

The nights were filled with entertainment, beginning at the bar next to the pool and continuing to the amphitheatre. One evening, as Hala and I took our seats on the first row to watch the show, a young, dashing dude in black, with his hair flung back and a great pair of shoes, sat next to me, and we began conversing. He was accompanied by his two uncles and their friend visiting their country on holiday. The older men had exceptional black hair for their age! Added by a confident attitude. The younger man, Dexter, was charming, made introductions, and asked if I wanted to join them at the disco as Hala left to retire after the show.

The loud House music stretched all the way to the bar, and we followed the sound to get to the dancing space placed by the beach at the entrance of the vicinity or village, as they call it in Club Med. The uncles disappeared from the scene into the crowded dance floor, and Dexter offered to get me a drink. We got moving to the tunes when I asked humorously:
"So, what happened to the uncles?' 
Dexter adopted a different tone suddenly from his earlier posh accent and uttered:
"Oh! He's with his mite."
I turned to him, somewhat surprised and questioned:
"With his what?"
He simply answered:
"His mite. His mate."
My response simply was:
"Oh!"
At this point, Dexter excused himself to visit the gents', and I went for a short stroll on the beach.
Before leaving the disco, I was presented to a couple of other guys, and when offered yet another drink, I excused myself and headed to bed.

Every day, I stared at the waterskiers, wondering whether I should have another attempt at it. The desire was so strong, yet thinking of the incident of three years ago and being carried out of the waterski club in London by an ambulance did not help gather the courage to restart. Who knows?! There will be other chances. This was not the time.

It was flattering being approached quite openly by a fellow writer, who made his intentions of making friends very clear by an open approach. He came over to me at lunch while Hala and I were conversing with the two tall and handsome guys sharing the table and declared in the most gentlemanly manner:
"I've made my approach quite clear, and if you're interested, I'll see you later by the pool."
What about the intelligent older man who is taking my fancy these days? Could it be sharing stories of experience on a level of more profound understanding of having been through more ups and downs, one that is not purely based on sex? Then again, the physics of each of us plays a vital role in that attraction. Most older men seem to have so much baggage to deal with, and they say women have baggage! It depends on the individual; age carries experience and acceptance, not wisdom.  
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder... 
As Benjamin Franklin wrote:
Beauty, like supreme dominion
It is but supported by opinion.

Would I even 'want' to be in my twenties with my current experience? That would not be possible, and I am exactly where I want to be. Thank The Lord.

This reminds me of home!

Off to the next destination early in the morning. Till next week... Ta ta.

The Queen's Jubilation... The Royal Blog

Diamonds may be forever, as Shirley Bassey sang at the Jubilee concert in Buckingham Palace, but then... Nothing lasts forever!

My goodness, how time flies!  
I tried to write my blog before our flight to Turkey with Hala last week, but it became an impossible task with that social calendar filling up the pages of my diary.
Let's now go back to Queen Elizabeth II's Diamond Jubilee celebrations. It began on Sunday, 3 June, with a Flotilla going through the Thames. To watch the event 'Sur Place', as it took place, I was invited by Arabel to her friend Liz's apartment, facing the river, for an afternoon party. The weather... Mmm... typically cold and rainy for a June day! But hey, we live in what must be the most unpredictable zone (weather-wise) worldwide. Poor Prince Phillip had pneumonia from parading in the rain that day.  

We gathered at Liz's lunchtime to mingle and make new acquaintances while the TV was on, showing the beginning to end of the Flotilla. It started well, and everyone looked in good spirits. The commentators made more out of each smile the Queen carried, but I only got one glimpse of the lady's cheer. She must have been displeased with the Lord for producing such a wet day for her special celebration. Her Majesty's wit, that dry sense of humour that the Brits are masters at, has been mentioned over and over again in the tabloids. The only thing is... Why do they call it 'dry'? We do live in the wettest of climates here!

Back to the Flotilla party, as we watched the Queen's parade get closer to our destination, the cheers heard outside the open windows, coming in with a gush of cold wind into the living room, brought excitement to an already happy atmosphere. Everyone gathered by the ample open space, unless they could face the rain and cold, standing on the balcony facing the Thames. Oh! I managed a glimpse of Her Majesty as she went up the stairs to the upper deck of the Royal Barge. The thousand-vessel pageant was one of the largest flotillas ever assembled on the river Thames, and it was as well organised as one would expect it to be. The whole country was in celebration. At the supermarket cashier's, I heard a man declare to be barbecuing 400 burgers for their street party, amongst many held nationwide. The British flags were hanging through most streets and shops, which had been decorated to follow the event's theme. A jolly good show!

The passing of the vessels

The Royal Barge

The Commonwealth flags

When I left the party just after 7:00pm, the streets were still buzzing from the day's Jubilation.

Monday 4th, was a Bank Holiday in the UK when many crowded the streets once again to gather in London parks where large screens were on display of the event, and all I wanted to do was stay home and watch the Jubilee concert on my own TV screen. The sun shone for the masses, and Gary Barlow earned himself an OBE for organising such a magnificent event in honour of the Queen's Special weekend. Yes, Sir! Well, I had to miss the fireworks, replaced by my exceptional outburst of explosions with a special visit... From Christofer.  

The crowd outside Buckingham Palace

A Happy Queen Elizabeth

'Unity through Diversity' Prince Charles' Speech

 

If we each chose to be some sort of Queen, what would you choose as a title?
Would mine have to be 'The Lover Queen', or should I settle for 'The Naughty Queen'? I prefer the latter. 

Next comes Turkey, Running away from the cold and wet June into a sunny destination by the sea: Kemer.