Confused dot com!

Life drives me to the entrance of my heart
Open to anyone who rides my cart
The joys only great friends can bring
Their love makes me want to sing
But best to keep my songs to myself
Mum said Honey, leave your voice on a shelf
Dancing is the profession I should have chosen
Alas, that thought has not been kept frozen
As I move my body through the flow of sound
Making buddies in a dark surround
Life has brought me love all around
While all my sorrows slowly drowned
Thank you all for enriching my life
The past is history, cut out with a knife.

I have no idea how that came about, but I sure enjoyed writing it during the inspirational meetings of friends, old and new.

Now, the week past has been full of... Well, everything!
Getting acquainted with my new iPhone 5 has been a piece of cake. The only problem was at the Pink Martini concert in Albert Hall, accompanied by two of my oldest wonderful girlfriends, Shiba and Bardo; I had my first run at videoing all the favourites they sang, but sadly, when I watched them later, nada! That is nothing. C'est la vie! You win some, you lose some. When the singer China offered the audience to go to the back of the stage to dance, my keenness to get there left my friends laughing yet unsurprised, and I went dancing right behind the performers. They sang in many languages and had the Turks and the Greeks on stage, microphone in hand, next to the lead singer. When leaving, I noticed two tall guys with salt and pepper hair right behind us, speaking a foreign language, which I had gathered was; I turned around and inquired:
"What language are you speaking?"
"Dutch," one of them replied.
So I continued: "Well, you see, they sang in almost every language except Dutch or Persian, and I'm so disappointed."
And that was how we left it. It was only Monday, after all!

Dancing on stage at the Pink Martini concert in Albert Hall

Finally, I got to eat at the Coya restaurant, joined by the lovely tall blonde Cindy. After a feast of the latest crave in Peruvian cuisine and a couple of their yummy pisco sour cocktails, we decided to go boogie a little. The Annabel's Club was the only place that came to mind on a Thursday evening, so we headed there. As soon as we walked to the bar, two seats emptied, and we decided to have one for the road in champagne. A young man in his late thirties approached Cindy and began conversing while I attended to what I do best, engaging myself in a favourite pastime of people-watching. A couple of well-dressed, brushed-up men arrived, full of attitude, with a series of blonde ladies. They were here on holiday it seemed and almost every blonde girl who passed by knew them, one of the guys in particular would grab their neck at the back while talking to them. A little crude I thought before he ordered another whiskey, while holding his head in his hand and downing the full glass already in front of him. The next whiskey arrived soon after, and he gulped that one down, too. Before leaving with his Barbies, he stood next to Cindy and talked next to her ear. She released his hand from her neck and returned to repeat the man's words. I cannot even get myself to repeat it as rude people should be ignored, but I grabbed his arm as he left and asked him to apologize to my friend. Knowing he was drunk out of his little brains, he mumbled something, and then I simply added: "You know what your problem is? You're a spoiled little brat, really!"
Needless to say, he looked puzzled and left. The world is a massive packet of 'all sorts'. Like the liquorish pack, sweet but somewhat bitter.
His friend, who conversed with us earlier, said, "Why are people so impressed with money? I go out with this man, and as soon as he approaches the girls I've talked to, they go to him and forget me."
Firstly, it is a matter of confidence that, sadly, money buys for some and gives them the impression that everyone is for sale. Who can blame them, as they are allowed to behave in that manner most of the time? But nope. It does not always work that way. Despite what Onassis said, "Everyone has a price."  Unless the price is kindness and love, it's wrong.

Venus' perfect man finally arrives!  @ Tate Modern

Last Friday, Robby and I had a date to visit the Tate Modern for an exhibition of one of the most influential pop artists, the American Roy Lichtenstein, who mastered a new concept in painting comic strips. We wore headsets and began our tour around the busy, grand white rooms, and by the third room, I managed to lose my friend. The dots of the large paintings got to my head or my eyes, and I began my search to find Robby, going from room to room trying to absorb what the earphones were talking about and concentrating on all those dots everywhere I looked, made me go dotty! Could not take it any longer, and as superbly accurate as the thousands of spots were painted, the room began turning around my head, and all I could see was more drops of vibrant colours. I will go back again with a clear head and not so high!  
However, one of my favourite rooms was one of 'War and Romance', where close-up female faces of despair, as in one drowning, would speak: 'I don't care! I'd rather sink than call Brad for help!'
Now... Aaaaah!  
Then came his 'Late Nudes,' in which he turned to the most ancient genres of art to demonstrate the female subject in a new and provocative form.
Dinner at the top-floor restaurant, with views of sundown over St Paul's and the city circling around the Thames, was breathtaking.  

Saturday arrived sooner than expected, and after a hairdo, dinner was at Lady Diba's, joined by one of her oldest friends and the two ladies, as always, enlightened me with their life stories of the good old days. There are still good new days to count on. Afterwards, Fabric was on the cards as Ricardo Villalobos played among other great DJs. However, Jessica and I connected as I called her by mistake on Viber, and she texted back. The conversation ended with me joining her first at some event on the southeast side of London. So, I drove to the Sidings Warehouse and found parking outside. Walking in, I came across the superb bouncer who used to be at Fabric before. He greeted me warmly, as always, and took me directly to the VIP area behind the stage, where the DJs were playing next to candles burning in large candelabras. Jessica stood out amongst the crowd, accompanied by a friend just as gorgeous and tall as she was, both in their highest glittering heels and little cocktail numbers.  
I automatically asked:  "Is that how you're coming to Fabric?" 
She replied:  "No. We're going home to change and will join you there."
So, I left them dancing and drove to Fabric around 3:00am.

Sadly, the girls never made it there, but it was not my first time going to this rave spot alone. Before long, I had seen many familiar faces and went to the dance floor to boogie. At some stage, noticed a guy moving like a dancing machine to the music, he was cute too and began his approach so we danced but then, things were getting too steamy just by the moves alone, so it was time to do a disappearance act. Bumping into Sébastian when going out to the smoking area was great fun, as he mentioned the after-party in a warehouse even further away than home. At some stage of the morning around 6:00am, Isabella who had asked me if I wanted to join her at Egg (another rave club) contacted me and as our text match went on, keen to see her after a long while, somehow I came to a conclusion she had come to Fabric. This is too funny not to tell ...  

Isabella wrote: 'Music is amazinggg here.'  
Me: 'Will you come to Fabric after? I'm here.'
Isa: 'Are u here?'
Me: 'Fabric. You?'
Isa: 'I'm here. Where are you?'
Me: 'Where are you? I come to find you.'
Isa: 'I'm first floor near the bar.'
Me: 'Coming up.'
Isa: 'No ground floor, Big room.'
Me: 'Ahhh. Coming down now.'
Isa: 'Dance floor big room. I can't see u.'
Anyway, this went on for ages, while I went up, then down, through all the crowd on the dance floor, as must have done my friend. So eager to find one another, we talked when I had finally gone out to the smoking area outside, and Isabella kept insisting they were in another tented smoking area when she asked: "Where are you, Babe?"
I answered: "Fabric. Where are you?"
"Egg."  She replied.
Never been so confused on half an E! Or have I?! Haha

Laughing aloud and slightly frustrated at the same time, I entered the staff room to face the super friendly Stéf, with whom we chatted, went dancing and who accompanied me while we drove to the Fabric after party at a very uncivilized hour of 13:00 hour on the Sunday. I sat on the balcony of the top floor warehouse where the event was held and laughed while watching Sébastian's dynamic moves and absorbing his super energy. Waited till 17:30 for Kalina to arrive but finally gave in and left the party without any goodbyes. There I was, breaking my records again of coming home at 18:00 hour on Sunday afternoon.  

London is full of surprises!

Okay, it's time for some rest now. Next Monday, destiny takes me abroad again. First, Miami, followed by a dream spot where I will attend a yoga retreat alone. That will be a first (the alone bit).  
May peace and harmony follow you wherever you go... 

Surrender All Control

And free your mind.
It was the lyrics of a song I have recently been addicted to, thanks to my brother Soltan.

Freeing the spirit involves being oblivious to other people's opinions and how they believe we should live our lives. It is taking charge of one's actions and knowing when a lesson will be learnt. Boy, I have lessons to share.
Recalling my youthful days, growing up as a child in a nation so involved in:
'What are people gonna say?' Or 'What will the neighbours think?'
It always puzzled me how engaged everyone is in living their lives according to others. The memory of the day being driven home from school by our driver with my cousins kept coming back when one of them shocked me with her remark:
"God will forgive you anything if you do your five times a day prayer."
"Really?!" I fumed. "You mean if someone kills another and goes on praying his five-time prayers, your God will forgive him?"  
She informed me: "That sure is what my mum says."

Now, even at eleven, the God I had created in my mind has always been a God of Love and Mercy. We punish ourselves. What was your dream as a child? As for me...
I have always loved chocolates. In fact, one of the cutest compliments I got was when someone called me just that, yes, chocolate when I got back tanned from a holiday. And as a child, my dream was to have wings to fly to areas where kids were deprived of them and throw them smarties everywhere. Weird, but true. In fact, in later years, I somewhat brought my dream into reality when, through a personal development course at Landmark Forum over six months in a Self-Expression and Leadership Program, my chosen project was to travel to Tehran and find out the names of five schools downtown with a total of six hundred students, through a government contact found by my Ex-mother-in-law. I then got back to London and organised a charity fair where friends partook; some baked pies, others sold their products and donated a percentage of their sales, and Christmas flower arrangements were made with the help of Sophie, where the money collected was sent back home for my friends there to buy six hundred pullovers, tracksuits, books and bags of sweets and crisps made ready in storage. I then contacted the government official and went back home to deliver the two vans of goods to two boys' and three girls' schools each in person, with three great friends joining to share those precious moments when the kids would go back to their classroom and sing happy birthday to themselves.
One of the most memorable days of my life!

At the time, I was raising two children and working hard with my then-husband (not that I have had any other!). Through years of therapy and workshops, I managed to make a childhood dream come true. It was the biggest blessing to have found myself, killed every unhappy moment of my life inside, put it behind me, and started afresh.

Tonight, I returned from the second Tuesday of another meditation course at the Dhyana Centre, accompanied by Fedot, who met me a month ago to discuss spirituality and its path. Funny as we initially met online some years ago, and now our then flirtatious rendez-vous have turned into meeting up for a different kind of satisfaction in terms of friendship. The worldly speaker was Alan, the most knowledgeable person in defining every type of meditation in depth and letting you decide which method to adopt for your daily routine. During the evening, a lady spoke these words:
"There's a lady who comes to our salon. When she first arrived, she was an angry woman. With the help of meditation and work on herself, in a matter of months, she's happier, and she looks ten years younger!"
Alan agreed and mentioned how thousands of people he knew had achieved that youthfulness through practice. Tears fled my eyes as I recalled when I first attended these courses some twelve years ago by an introduction through my Ex (to whom I was married then) and how, within six months, whoever saw me kept telling me just that:
"Haldita, you look ten, fifteen years younger. What have you done?"
And I am still being told that. Despite what most think, I am botox-free. There were two cases of liposuction I went through during my life; the first one was pretty useless as the weight piled on in other areas, and the second one was three and a half years ago, whereas I was told by two doctors afterwards that I was so lucky to be alive after. I bled like a cartoon figure through the holes of surgery every time I removed the scattered bloody baby pampers covering the wounds from the tight corset I had to wear for three months to shower, and this went on for a whole week before I decided to fly back home alone to London and suffer in agony on my own.
Never again! And please take care if you decide to do something so drastic. No one and nothing is worth the pain of almost losing your life.
Enough of that.

Now... how wonderful it is to go through so many changes and come out smiling—a true evolution. 
To kick start last weekend, there was more fun to be had in the great company of Don Juan. He came over and once again swept me off my feet as we spent hours of fun, listening to some of my great tunes and catching up on where we had left off. Boy, does this man know how to make a girl feel special!  
Learning to love without attachment is the biggest goal I have achieved in my life after meditation.

On Saturday night, Giselle invited me to a party, which was a fantastic event! The high-ceiling room with hanging decorations was filled with a trendy crowd of artists dressed in their 'Burning Man' outfits. G Iselle and I had much to catch up on, so we settled deep into the sofa and chatted while people-watching.
As my week had been super busy, Sunday was a restful day. After an hour's massage, I left for an early dinner with my wise friend Donna at Kateh's marvellously healthy yet rich Persian restaurant. Yummy...
And last night, as my excellent housekeeper had been poorly and not come in to work for almost two weeks, I was left hungry at home as cooking has certainly not been a forte of mine for too many years now to start again. Kim sweetly offered to come over and cook us a chicken stir fry, and we ate and chatted more about the power of positivity, which helps our lives take shape as it is meant to.

We are here to experience life and, through years of development and evolution, to bring meaning to it. Eaning of peace and love for future generations. We have achieved so many unthinkable goals, especially regarding technological advances. Still, a simple quest for peace and happiness deep within us needs much searching. Why? Time is running faster than ever. The 'we have all the time in the world' theory is only a concept as we know our time could be up any second. Live like it's your last moment on earth, and please smile more often; that alone sheds years off your gorgeous faces.

My life is super rich! No money in the world can buy that. 

A Thief amongst us in Marrakesh!

Well, hello again!
Now that the tales of Peru are past telling, how do I begin to sustain the effects of its enlightenment back here in London? The learning along my way is always the same; keep positive and smile.

It is challenging to digest today's news, which has left me somewhat distraught. Really?!  

A bomb exploded at the finishing line of a charity marathon? Can cruelty in humankind get any worse? The earthquake in Southern Iran is an act of nature, and however ruthless it may be, we must come to terms with it; it is out of our hands. But killing one another for whatever cause or reason is simply vicious. So, what makes these people come to terms with their actions and even think such evil thoughts? Is it a lack of love in their lives? How tortured are their minds? How different we are from one another.
Guess this is why I cannot bear the news. So sad. 

Life is not always rosy and posy. Let me tell you a story which proves just that.
Quite a few years ago, Hala and I decided to visit Marrakesh with Club Med, staying in the centre of town. The Medina, which uses facilities in their Riad hotel, is a short distance away. It was set in an almost deserted area with beautiful palm trees, the bluest swimming pools, and a great Moroccan-style surround.

We mainly stayed in the centre of town, close to the souk, where the morning prayers would momentarily wake us up. It's a shame the singer's voice was so untamed.
Our time in Club Med was fun as we made friends over the meals, shared tables with different people and made new friends. We did manage to spend a good deal of time at the souk, bargaining with ruthless vendors over the eleven pairs of Babouches we each bought, made in the softest leather of pastel colours and straw—never mind the kaftans! Sun-seeking by the pool was another chosen past time during our trip, as per usual.

We quickly became buddies with the excellent staff running the place and spent quite some time in their rooms chatting, smoking and laughing. By mid-week, while at dinner, we made the acquaintance of a father and son who were accompanied by a handful of older ladies at the table, all French-speaking. The son, Frédéric, looked like Mark Wedloe, playing the young boy in Gentle Ben (an ancient TV series about a cute child and his bear), but this one was only in his early thirties. He rapidly made friends with us and would accompany us almost everywhere we went. Within a couple of days, during supper, while Hala and I joked and laughed with Frédéric, the ladies were eying us with cheeky smiles and voiced their minds:

"Seems young Frédéric is keeping you ladies well entertained? Hey?"
They gave an exceptionally longer glance when their eyes gazed at mine. And, of course, I would not let them down in any way by denying that, indeed, he was, and we all laughed.

We had even introduced him to our friends who worked in the compound, and he seemed to fit in well wherever he joined us. The photos I took of that trip and the beauty of each sunset floating away behind the tall, picturesque palms will forever stay in my mind. Here is what happened next.

I must mention that the lock of the safe in our room was broken from day one. Despite my insisting on having it fixed, Hala had reassured me that Club Med was safe and that we could hide our jewellery in the suitcase and lock it. As far as jewellery was concerned, for some idiotic reason, we had travelled with our Cartier and Bulgari watches and a handful of 'stuff'—all real!  

The boy, Frédéric, had been to our room several times before going to dinner. At the same time, we finished getting ready, and by then, we had become such great buddies that we did not think twice before opening the suitcase's lock and getting out the jewels to wear. The boy's father, who had kept complaining to everyone about his 'useless' son not becoming a banker, was busy charming the older ladies until his attention drifted entirely to someone exquisite travelling with her young and vibrant daughter who wore headscarves in the most tasteful African manner; excellent for her white tone. When I mentioned how beautifully she carried it, the girl talked of her cancer openly and not for a moment did she stop smiling, floating around the place like a butterfly and sharing her love of life with everyone who crossed her path.  

Anyway, two days before our departure, Frédéric and his papa returned to Paris in the evening, and Hala and I offered to help him buy presents for his mother from the souk (market). After the deal, we returned to our room, where he carried an empty rack. I disappeared into the bathroom briefly but emerged shortly to accompany him to the lobby and head to dinner afterwards. I noticed the father exchanging numbers with the elegant lady, and we all bid them farewell as the bus left for the airport; somehow, I was beginning to believe there was something dodgy about the older man.

Once dinner was over, we returned to our room and noticed the suitcase lock open and a few items missing! Including Hala's gold watch, my two cameras (with which we had taken photos of everyone, including Frédéric and his father), and special Chanel glasses I had purchased recently. But my watch and other jewellery had not been touched. Obviously, we were flabbergasted! Without a clue as to who could have done that? We had stayed in Club Meds since decades ago, and never had we experienced such an act of violence. Once we talked to the staff, who had become good friends, about what had happened, they were all saddened and did their best to help us find who it could have been. They questioned their staff, and we felt deeply saddened not only for our loss but also for seeing the distress caused to our now buddies. One of the guys in charge, Ali, came with us to the police station to keep us company while they filed the robbery. If you think you have seen the most underdeveloped government department anywhere, this was undoubtedly one next to none. The station was merely a dry courtyard-like area on red clay ground, and the rooms around it were as primitive as time would allow, with a table and a few child-sized wooden chairs lying in what was otherwise an empty space. The 'sheriff' (what I called him Hala), who certainly had the air of authority, in the form of ego blowing out of his head, in a scruffy suit, looked us up and down and seemed least interested in what we had to say, while his male secretary arrived with a chair in one hand and a typewriter under his arm and sat typing away what he was dictated by his master; from one finger to another... Tack, tack, tack. Seriously?!

Anyway, the trauma which followed is something I prefer to keep in the history of my mind. We tried to comfort the staff, who were tormented by the saga even more than we were. It was only on the following day, after reviewing the past few days, that I began to doubt our friend, Frédéric.  But there was no proof, as I realised that when you deal with charlatans, they have probably tried their tricks on others and have become pros as of the process. He was the only person who saw where we hid the jewels, and for whatever reason, we had not locked the case from the night before, or he knew where the key was. He was the only one who had entered our room during that time with his empty rack sack, which he showed us before it was bare. So basically, shit can happen anywhere. I lost my photos, but frankly, such memories are best kept away, and by the time we had realised the truth back in London, we had no grounds to go by to let them know. I still sometimes wonder what the father had in mind when approaching and charming the elegant lady. God help us all from evil.

Life is not all doom and gloom. I thank God every morning for my health and the love that fills my days. Oh, finally, not only did I start a page on Facebook for my blog, but I also became a proud owner of an iPhone! Phew. Life's so much easier with Apple. Well, mine is.
Catching up with great friends kept me busy most of last week... What's new!
Thank goodness spring has sprung upon us, but before it did, suffering deeply from the cold that hit us recently, I picked a sunny destination to visit soon. What's new there, too.  
An evening meal at Zuma's with Robby and catching up on her news was an absolute delight as we talked of men and the bizarre lives everyone leads today. All the intermarriages, then remarriages following with off-springs in different ports, which is fast becoming a norm.
Thursday and Friday were dinner at the Arts Club in Mayfair; one night with the tall, blonde Cindy, whom I met through a work process as we became friends not long ago and the next with three gorgeous girlfriends; Ranna, who is the symbol of womanhood, Fifi over for the weekend and Kristel with whom we ended the night in the bar watching Simon Cowell walk in with his entourage of apparently mostly TV personalities as my friend noticed. Since I don't watch TV, I have yet to learn who they were, but they sure had a confident attitude about them. As in 'fuck me', I'm a celebrity! NOT. Haha. It was fun watching young girls from tables around pause as they stood beside Mr Cowell's table and flick their hair.

A family baby shower on Sunday made me realise how far away my days of baby talk were. So, I followed it up by visiting Troy at the New Inn for a few hours of laughter and getting better acquainted with Lila. It was not an early night, for sure.
The pièce de résistance came last night when a flow of excitement delivered Christofer to my doorstep. Dressed in the most womanly manner, which would have even made Marilyn Monroe proud, I finally remembered what it was like to live on my own again, being naughty in my own surroundings!  
Aaaaah...

Now is the time to bid you goodnight or good day as it may imply, and leave you with a thought from Dalai Lama:
'The mind is like a parachute... It works best when it is open.

Oh! And Lake Titicaca in Puno

Life is fantastic, and it's going to get even better. Trust, dream, and make it happen. You are in charge, so make the changes, don't sit wondering, and take risks with care. 

These came to mind from a night's dancing at Fabric last Saturday.  
The bouncers would each greet me and say:
"Haldita, you haven't been for a while!"
And I only had two weeks' absence, enjoying family life.
But Boy, again, it was another super time in the greatest of companies, feeling the Love, accompanied by Kim, who I feel blessed to have as a loving and understanding friend who sees beauty as I do. And then, of course, Jude is fun and vibrant as always, with all the Love she freely gives.
All those unique, beautiful beings, including the delightful DJs we got to chat with and meet, are my circle of the chosen family, which is widening all the time! Not all families stick around forever, so why should friends? We each have a path to follow.
Thank you, God, for being beside me while I learned and moved on every step of the way.  
For everything. I am one grateful woman.

Shall I share something rather naughty? Is that a question???
Oh well, I have been ecstatically happy to have had my Boy stay with me for a few months now, but frankly, my sex life has gone to fuck... Or actually, NO fuck is the truth! Haha... There, I said it.
But we can learn so much from our children if we treat them as adults enough to hide stuff and lie to them. Kids need to be talked to and understood. Weren't you there once?  
Still determining if they all want to be heard till they are ready!

Let me now return to Peru for the last chapter of our unbelievable journey through the land of the Incas. On Thursday, February 21st, Frieda, my sister Hala, and I rode a ten-hour bus journey from our hotel in Cusco early in the morning, including five stops in small villages along the way. Oh my goodness, if nature can produce such mind-blowing scenery, then there lies God in beauty through nature, as my mother taught me.
On our last night in Cusco, Frieda and I returned to the Cicciolina restaurant in Cusco to taste tapas. Wow! It was the most ravishingly tasty tapas I have ever tasted! Hala was resting to get over her nasty cold, so we visited her at the hotel for a tiny sniff of the blanket to continue at the Mushroom Club again. The next day, Waking up at 7:00am did not come as a chore as the sun was struggling to peak out of the bubbles of cloud, our group of three conchitas taxied our way to the bus station, en route to Puno.
    

Sixtine Chapel in Andahuaylillas

Colourful market in the square

The Sixtine Chapel overpowered this tiny village, and the vendors would suddenly appear, setting up stalls for the visitors to buy their homemade products, mainly alpaca goods.

The road from Cusco to Puno is 380km, but all the stops stretch the journey to ten hours.

Next came Raqchi. Each ruin carries its own energy, and when present in the magnificence of years of history, a certain silence from within arises to take in only what is left behind.  

Ruins at Raqchi

Market at Raqchi

Museo Pukara

A room at Pukara

The good luck bulls on the roofs of houses

We arrived at 16:00 sharp in Puno and got hold of a taxi going around town looking for a hotel again. Hala's Lonely Planet saved us once more, and we settled into a three-bedroom bang in the city's centre, with a view over the Catedral de Puno in the main square. We walked around the central, pedestrianised set and were ready for bed.

Catedral de Puno

On the morning of Friday, February 22nd, the sun struggled to show its glory from behind the bubbles of cloud, which felt so close that one could reach out and touch them. Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world, at an altitude of 3,810 metres above sea level. But the rain was pouring hard, and with all the alpaca shopping covering us almost top to toe for warmth, Hala and I separated from Frieda as she had a special mission to accomplish. We decided to visit the Coca Museum in Puno. Now, blanket was the name we had picked for what was initially called the Pink Peruvian, a pure(ish) form of Cocaine. The so-called museum was a climb up the stairs, entering the dimmest of rooms, where the not-interested attendant sold us tickets, lit up the room somewhat, put on a video and told us to sit and watch on the two chairs provided! Oh well, we obeyed her gestured instructions. What I learnt was:
'Coca leaves were used for communication with God during the Incas and for ancient practices. It grows in warm valleys, not too high above sea level. With the invasion of the Spanish into their land, the usage of coca was outlawed, so it became more expensive than gold. The video went on calling it 'the miraculous leaf', 'curing over 50 illnesses', and last but not least, 'enhancing sex'. If only human greed would allow us to experience 'things' as they are meant to be.
'What's the use of abuse?' 

As we left the dark room of the museum and went outside, the sun had won! It was time to make our way to the port to take a boat ride to the islands of Uros, a floating island made of straw. Frieda appeared out of the blue and joined us.
The chief of the village, who demonstrated how the island was built over ten years, held by a rope anchored to eucalyptus branches held in the ground below the water, called himself Leonardo di Caprio! Their form of transport was the boats they built in the form of Viking ships, which he called his Mercedes Benz, as did his women on the island. They live off tourism and believe in trading goods for goods.

Uros Island

Leonardo di Caprio and his concubine by Mercedes Benz!

Their handmade works of art

We came back, almost lounging on the boat in a daydream. As though that was not enough to indulge the senses in every way, as soon as we set foot back into Puno, many people appeared in colourful, local costumes, singing and dancing. Guess what? It was yet another carnival. What luck!
We got involved in the music and followed the dancers onto the main square. 

the view from our room at Condé Los Lamos

After a delicious dinner of chicken strips with mango and trout salad at the Colors restaurant and a quick last pisco sour at Positivity (the name of the bar), we returned to our hotel for some rest.
A flight back to Lima the next day from Juliaca, and we welcomed the capital's warm air.

Sunday, February 24th, we all agreed to chill at home in Frieda's green garden. The sun embraced us again with its grace, and after a spliff, I was in the mood for gardening! Something I never had a chance to do. Living in London, the thought of a February day like this could not have been further away from my mind. Frieda was busy watering her garden with a hose, Hala lounging in the hammock while I found myself moving the heart-shaped stones she had acquired along her walks on various beaches around and shifting energies. Change is always good. A childlike feeling of joy while playing with our toys had taken over our grown-up bodies; under the blissful rayons of sunshine, we listened to Peruvian music, got high and played the chic hippies. Frieda went back and forth in the kitchen with her help, organising a mouth-watering pasta with mushroom sauce and salad, which she consumed in the outdoor dining area. When it was time for sunset, a peachy golden light covered the sky as far as the eye could see from my first-floor bedroom window. Incredible.

Notes of a Majnoon!

The Love Stones

By the way, Majnoon in the Middle East is considered a madman in Love.
Frieda was anxious to get us to the Parque de la Reserva to watch the Circuito Magico del Agua that evening. This vast park was filled with locals, mainly families, enjoying their outdoor Sunday evening.

The crowd getting totally wet!

One of the main Squares of Lima's downtown

And as for our last day in Lima, we spent it on El Silencio beach, one hour outside the city. Hala and I indulged further in shopping from every vendor who passed us by while Frieda left to greet her future family-to-be, sitting close by. Apparently, when she mentioned being with two friends on holiday and pointed towards us, they asked:
"You mean the two buying everything on the beach?"
That last evening was spent in the pleasant company of Frieda's Girl Roberta and her husband-to-be Jakim, with us ladies at the elegantly designed decor as in the succulent meal they served at the Rafael restaurant. Delightful! No wonder Peruvian cuisine is world-renowned. Never made it to Astrid and Gaston. Some things have to be left for our next visit... 

One last remark: Peru gave me wings to fly higher than I imagined possible. I have rid myself of any fear for now or the future. Fear is a thing of the past; life is ON.
Thank you, Frieda, my Love, from the bottom of my heart, for everything. 

The Inca-Licious Magic of Machu Picchu!

"Live what you believe" was the conclusion of a conversation with Kristel.

Now, what do you believe in?

'Live what you believe'
I like to think we are flying free as birds
Say what you think, but mean those words
Throw yourself willingly in the wings of life
Wash away the sorrows, cut them out with a knife
Bring in joy; laughter is the best remedy
Listen to music, make life into a melody
Argue about what you believe in, but don't make it a fight
Acceptance is the rule, destroy obstacles from sight
Acknowledge who you are and learn to love and understand
Don't leave your butt out in the air, your head deep in the sand
There is nothing to fear for when life hands you choices
Let go of hang-ups and let it be heard; those voices.
You only get one chance to live this life to the full
Make it fun and naughty; there are exceptions to the rule
So go out there and run around like a fool
Who is there to judge you? You are happily playing cool!

Well, that popped out as a surprise!
Now... Let's get back to Peru because what happened to me during our visit to Machu Picchu was an extraordinary experience, and I would love to share it with you.
On the morning of Monday, 18 February, Hala and I were picked up at 8:30civilisedrivate taxi for a two-hour drive to the train station at Ollantaytambo. The scenery was pure green mountains cultivated along valleys of fruit and vegetation, a large river running through almost continuously, and a sky as blue as can be with bright patches of clouds hovering above us. I could barely keep my jaw up, passing sites that even a postcard could not quite capture, and at one stage, we were up 3,800 metres above sea level. 

Urubamba is the name of the river running along the Amazon, and it is a town we traversed to get to Ollantaytambo, where the Inca Trail train waited to carry us to Aguas Calientes. There were two train wagons with comfy beige leather seats, and as Hala and I settled into them, a very sociable young man who had been chatting to absolutely everyone on board on the way to his seat opposite us, stood next to us, checked his ticket saying:

"I went through the train looking for my seat, and we'll travel together. I'm Roqué."

As soon as he sat opposite, facing me at the window seat, introductions began, and our outbreaks of laughter seemed to amuse the whole carriage. And finally, sitting opposite Hala was a middle-aged (such a nonsense word, middle age!) gentleman, Neil, wearing a leather cowboy hat in safari attire, who happened to be a tour leader, not unlike a Korean John Wayne. The Brazilian Roqué was full of life and so much fun that we barely felt the two-hour journey pass. At one stage, Neil, after settling his people into their seats, fell asleep, and Roqué began making faces and gestures of a drunken man, then a scary animal next to the passed-out tour guide. Not sure what encouraged him as Roqué decided to sing for us aloud, then continued to inform us:
"This is by Johnny Cash! You know Johnny Cash?"
At this stage, before we replied, Neil awoke and, in his particular Korean accent, commented:
"No. Not Johnny Cash. Tom Jones, who sang that."
Roqué looked confused and asked: "Who's Tom Jones?" 
Ignoring my response when I pointed out: "He's too young to know Tom Jones!"
Neil burst into an opera and sang another Tom Jones number even louder. By then, Hala and I were holding onto our cheeks, already aching with the pain of laughter. 

Oh no... We had arrived in Aguas Calientes!
Hala turned to me and said: "Sis, we truly find them! The characters."
I replied: "Think it's more like they find us!"
Roqué made a last remark, looking towards Hala: "Think Haldita missed a shot of two birds!"
He was right; I did not stop taking photos throughout the journey.

 

The scenery on the Inka Rail train

The entrance from the station into Aguas Calientes was through a covered market, and our hostel (still can't believe sis convinced me to stay in a hostel!), which was more like a house with rooms being let, was right next to the warm spring waters. So, it was only natural to drop our bags, walk the only pedestrianised path of the main square and come back up to visit the pools under a cloudy and rainy sky. After an early night's sleep (myself covered from head to toe in a hooded tracksuit, twisting and turning all night), we were up at 6:00am to get ready for our visit to the land where Incas had trodden the ground and whose spirit soared high above the ruins. The people I talked to, including my Boy, who had previously visited this magical mountain, had mixed feelings.  

"I thought Machu Picchu was over-rated. Mum, the experience is different for each person."
As my Boy rightly pointed out, each experience differs for the individual, and learning is part of our growth.

The bus to the ruins left every 10 minutes, so at 7:00am sharp, Hala and I settled into the back seats by the window while two young men sat at the other end. Again, another tour guide sat in the middle, a quiet lady this time. After a short introduction, the jolly boys had already begun conversing with us, and Ignacio, who was sitting closest, asked for a coin, which I handed him a 2 soles piece for him to play the magician. The change disappeared in his hands and re-surfaced in the palm of his left hand. I turned to him, somewhat disappointed, and said:
"This is not fun! Now, if you make those two soles disappear and reappear into two million soles, you'll have all my attention!"
I said all that in my broken Spanish, but their laughter reassured me—they got the joke! 
Another fun half hour passed with an invitation to Chile by our new friends. Once we arrived 2,400 metres above sea level at Machu Picchu, our guide awaited to escort us for the two-hour tour.
Hiram Bingham, the man who first discovered the ruins, got here in 1911 by chance while searching for gold and silver; instead, coming across the kingdom of Incas, buried under a forest. The site, built in the shape of a condor, has only been open to the public since 1948, where 7/800 people, mostly noblemen, were estimated to have once lived. The mountains here were chosen for their astronomical points, the water springs they carried, and for being closer to God; they were separated into two sectors of agriculture on one side and urban on the other.

I was mesmerised by Machu Pimesmerised not only by what I saw but by the energy surrounding me, almost oblivious to the tourists around me. This was the low season as the Inca Trail, which can be crossed in an estimated four days, is shut during February and, hence, less human traffic. At every angle and height, the place looked different, and the two informative hours ran along fast enough for the end of the tour when Hala decided to head back, and I chose to spend some time on my own in these magical mountains. I asked our guide to show me a quiet spot down some steps and took his advice in settling myself down on a step, facing the tall, lush mountains ahead, where no one could see me and yet from behind a large stone, I could check the guard's moves on the far side. Oops! Out popped half of an already smoked spliff from my bag, and a few puffs were enough to help me grasp the amplitude of the greenness that surrounded me.
After a few moments of silence, I closed my eyes and connected with the spirit of the Incas. In prayer, I asked for ... 
'To the great vibe of the Incas, may I humbly ask for your love and wisdom to help me and my loved ones take paths that enrich our lives in an enlightening way and in peace. Oh! And please always let me see the humour in every situation when it arises.'
I then signed my name in the sky above and left in tears of love. 
Since Hala told me later that day smoking was banned in Machu Picchu, I was certainly glad not to have been caught and kicked out!

Before leaving, we stamped our passports with a Machu Picchu sign upside down and took the bus back to Aguas Calientes for a 'one bag' shopping trip at the trendy El Mapi boutique hotel and a light lunch before returning to the spring waters.  We wore our bikinis, covered with alpaca jumpers and a raincoat and headed to the Aguas again for the last dip in the pool, which, at 1:00pm, was quite empty. As we stood neck-deep in the murky water, the pebbles beneath our feet and the heated water embracing our bodies, the massive mountain ahead 'held' my gaze. We craned our necks as far back as they would go to appreciate the full glory of what we saw, covered by forests of greens and one particular peak which happened to be standing firm directly in front of me. As if that was not enough to blow one's mind, the white clouds parted, and the sun shone strongly on my naked face. I shut my eyes automatically and let myself go, leaning against the blue wall of the pool while my arms bent from the elbows and arose close to the water's surface with the two meditation fingers touching. The spirit of the Incas was flying above like angels as I felt at one with nature. The temperature of my whole body, my face in the sun, and my body in the warm water felt like one.

In the wholesome feeling of Oneness with all around, through the Incas came the spirit of my father, followed by my grandparents, uncles and friends who had left the earth along our journey. I was in heaven on earth; the tears escaped through the corner of my eyes onto those sun-kissed cheeks, and God only knows how fulfilled I felt. They brought with them so much love and support. Suddenly, like a ball of fire, every fear in my body moved around from my feet up to the rest of my body to my head and the ball of fear got thrown out of my being. 

I knew then something had shifted in me, and I cried to my heart's content, followed by laughter. I felt a sensation of ecstasy flowing through me. The spirit of the Incas touched me in every magical way possible.

The Hot water springs

The road to the Aguas Calientes

I then tearfully hugged my sister and assured her everything would be alright. As we looked up, standing in the spring water, our attention got diverted to a red and orange butterfly hovering above us. I smiled in a child-like manner as Hala pointed at my head, saying in disbelief:
"Sis, the butterfly is sitting on your head!"

Magic is everywhere. Awareness is key.

The last chapter on Peru will be next week during our visit to Puno, Lake Titicaca.