When Osho comes to my wondering thoughts and readings...
'The answer will appear from the very chore of your heart, only once the question has disappeared'; it sure calms my mind.
Other thoughts...
'The grass isn't greener on the other side, but greener where you water it.'
So, it is all a matter of perception and choice.
I keep drifting into moments of thought and then land back in my living room, seated comfortably on my cushioned velvet sofa, daydreaming at night.
An invitation to Casablanca had been waiting to develop in my head before taking action. My hosts, a lovely family, met in London in the summer of 2013. Heidi was the source of introduction and asked me, joined by her fiancé Sharif, to accompany them on their long weekend to Morocco at the end of November; temperatures roared up to 24 degrees, and there was sunshine till the day before we arrived Although initiated by Heidi, she had to cancel her trip at the last minute, and so, I accompanied Sharif and his brother Imad to their family holiday in Casablanca! Always amazed at the outcome of each situation.
My hosts, Assia and Hakim, were waiting for us at the airport. After a bumpy plane ride, Casablanca, experiencing one of its worst stormy weathers in years that evening, drove us to their home. Soon after, we were served fresh fish and vegetables for dinner, and then we retired to a bedroom with views over the manicured garden, with feminine statues spotted along the clear blue pool, all gently lit up at night.
The first morning in Casablanca began with a hammam, where I was scrubbed away by a lady who spoke no other language but her native tongue. We still managed a giggle here and there.
All clean and fresh, I was then directed to the family room, facing still the green scenery, and sat at a table filled with homemade honeyed pancakes washed down with fresh mint tea. The comfort and bliss of the moment took me back years into my family home when life seemed to flow effortlessly, without a care in the world and all the comfort and luxuries life could possess. It was pure joy feeling the warmth of people who were strangers to me a couple of years before. We chatted until it was time for lunch, tasting one more bottle of a pleasant Moroccan Volubilia 2010 red wine. Later that afternoon, my hosts dropped me off at the shopping mall.
'The answer will appear from the very chore of your heart, only once the question has disappeared'; it sure calms my mind.
Other thoughts...
'The grass isn't greener on the other side, but greener where you water it.'
So, it is all a matter of perception and choice.
I keep drifting into moments of thought and then land back in my living room, seated comfortably on my cushioned velvet sofa, daydreaming at night.
An invitation to Casablanca had been waiting to develop in my head before taking action. My hosts, a lovely family, met in London in the summer of 2013. Heidi was the source of introduction and asked me, joined by her fiancé Sharif, to accompany them on their long weekend to Morocco at the end of November; temperatures roared up to 24 degrees, and there was sunshine till the day before we arrived Although initiated by Heidi, she had to cancel her trip at the last minute, and so, I accompanied Sharif and his brother Imad to their family holiday in Casablanca! Always amazed at the outcome of each situation.
My hosts, Assia and Hakim, were waiting for us at the airport. After a bumpy plane ride, Casablanca, experiencing one of its worst stormy weathers in years that evening, drove us to their home. Soon after, we were served fresh fish and vegetables for dinner, and then we retired to a bedroom with views over the manicured garden, with feminine statues spotted along the clear blue pool, all gently lit up at night.
The first morning in Casablanca began with a hammam, where I was scrubbed away by a lady who spoke no other language but her native tongue. We still managed a giggle here and there.
All clean and fresh, I was then directed to the family room, facing still the green scenery, and sat at a table filled with homemade honeyed pancakes washed down with fresh mint tea. The comfort and bliss of the moment took me back years into my family home when life seemed to flow effortlessly, without a care in the world and all the comfort and luxuries life could possess. It was pure joy feeling the warmth of people who were strangers to me a couple of years before. We chatted until it was time for lunch, tasting one more bottle of a pleasant Moroccan Volubilia 2010 red wine. Later that afternoon, my hosts dropped me off at the shopping mall.
Meanwhile, a dear friend with whom we spent July in Ibiza, Mouna, had texted to say she could pick me up with her little girl at the mall. Moroccan Argan oil was all I needed to buy, and it is renowned for its outstanding qualities on hair and skin alike. Two carrier bags later, at the shop in the ultra-modern Morocco Mall, I descended to find the exit to the Imax building, where Mouna picked me up and suggested we return to their apartment in the centre of town.
Before meeting Mouna in London, I had met Bert, her hubby, some years ago at Troy's after-party from Fabric and several other meetings later, until now in their homeland. So, by now, we were old friends! Spending the evening with them was full of fun and laughter, as it always has been. I never thought taking group selfies could be so amusing.
When I got to Casablanca's Mohammed V airport, the customs officer asked if I had been there before and how long ago. In fact,t, some thirty-seven years ago, my parents had organised a visit, but the,e only thing I recalled was the Mansour hotel we stayed at; the best hotel in the region at the time and, by now, hardly mentioned anywhere. Plus, the palm trees are set in boulevards. After all those years, the city was unrecognisable and could not go unnoticed by how well-developed it appeared. The residential villas were impressive, the roads mainly boulevard-like and very clean, and the beachside, derelict due to the cold season and rain, was sectioned by various club names with sun beds and restaurants, which reminded me of Cote d'Azur. The magnificent Hassan II mosque set by the ocean was mesmerising. However, time was scarce for a visit inside.
A birthday celebration was due at the villa the following day of an intimate family lunch, which I felt grateful to be part of, enriching the palate with the best homemade chicken au citron, a vegetarian Tagine, amongst many other delicacies. After which, despite the predictions of rain and thunder, the sun had shone in full bloom all day, so I decided to go for a stroll along the quiet residential back streets down to the ocean. Walking under the sun, breathing the fresh air and watching the footballers on the beach, couples fiercely walking in their pumas and the gentle flow of traffic, an everyday scene to a dweller, yet serenity to a visitor.
Before meeting Mouna in London, I had met Bert, her hubby, some years ago at Troy's after-party from Fabric and several other meetings later, until now in their homeland. So, by now, we were old friends! Spending the evening with them was full of fun and laughter, as it always has been. I never thought taking group selfies could be so amusing.
When I got to Casablanca's Mohammed V airport, the customs officer asked if I had been there before and how long ago. In fact,t, some thirty-seven years ago, my parents had organised a visit, but the,e only thing I recalled was the Mansour hotel we stayed at; the best hotel in the region at the time and, by now, hardly mentioned anywhere. Plus, the palm trees are set in boulevards. After all those years, the city was unrecognisable and could not go unnoticed by how well-developed it appeared. The residential villas were impressive, the roads mainly boulevard-like and very clean, and the beachside, derelict due to the cold season and rain, was sectioned by various club names with sun beds and restaurants, which reminded me of Cote d'Azur. The magnificent Hassan II mosque set by the ocean was mesmerising. However, time was scarce for a visit inside.
 |
| Hassan II Mosque |
 |
| New marina buildings in construction |
A birthday celebration was due at the villa the following day of an intimate family lunch, which I felt grateful to be part of, enriching the palate with the best homemade chicken au citron, a vegetarian Tagine, amongst many other delicacies. After which, despite the predictions of rain and thunder, the sun had shone in full bloom all day, so I decided to go for a stroll along the quiet residential back streets down to the ocean. Walking under the sun, breathing the fresh air and watching the footballers on the beach, couples fiercely walking in their pumas and the gentle flow of traffic, an everyday scene to a dweller, yet serenity to a visitor.
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| The residential area of Casablanca |
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| The Atlantic Ocean |
 |
| One of the villas in Casa |
Later that afternoon, Assia, accompanied by her closest friends Jamila and Imad, and I drove to the downtown area of Casa (as the locals call the city). The narrow streets were buzzing with shoppers, lit in a way that reminded me of Tehran's urban areas. I purchased a chic navy djellaba with two thin lines of Swarovski diamanté at the neck and a pair of babouches. When will I wear those?! Hah.
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| Bread vendor - Casa |
After an enchanting visit to Morocco's largest city, hosted by friends I can call family, I returned to London enriched once again at heart.
When you have love to give, love will find you.
Visiting a city is not necessarily about its sites and history. Still, it proves how pleasant a place may appeal to purely because of the people it geographically occupies and the spirit of a place.
During my week back in London, Christofer paid a visit or two... Or three! Although I had announced myself single and managed to put an end to almost every encounter that had passed me by, resisting to see him did not go according to plan.
Our encounters on these occasions were as wildly passionate as they have always been in the almost decade we have been meeting up. Never regularly, however, exciting every time. It is rare to be able to count on anyone or any situation with total confidence there will be no hick ups along the way. Those in the dating scene will know exactly what I am talking about.
In the intensity of our moments, on a couple of occasions, a champagne flute had flown in the air and landed on the floor in pieces, a burning mark on the sofa was left behind, and I had laughed it all off. However, despite the rule of 'no expectation' along the way, I counted on some signs of chivalry and thoughtfulness in my gestures.
Following this, Selfridges' (store) delivered a very extravagant set of crystal champagne flutes, one of them broken! I could not help but giggle. A thank you message was in order... And another following to make a point of the irony to which Christofe replied:
'I must be the master of breaking flutes by now!'
The conclusion of the matter is that after I called Selfridges to inform them of the breakage, they wrote back for me to keep the rest of the flutes and refunded the full amount to the buyer. I have not even bothered opening the rest of the glasses; who cares about possessions anyway? It's just good to feel acts of thoughtfulness.
Funny life!
When you have love to give, love will find you.
Visiting a city is not necessarily about its sites and history. Still, it proves how pleasant a place may appeal to purely because of the people it geographically occupies and the spirit of a place.
During my week back in London, Christofer paid a visit or two... Or three! Although I had announced myself single and managed to put an end to almost every encounter that had passed me by, resisting to see him did not go according to plan.
Our encounters on these occasions were as wildly passionate as they have always been in the almost decade we have been meeting up. Never regularly, however, exciting every time. It is rare to be able to count on anyone or any situation with total confidence there will be no hick ups along the way. Those in the dating scene will know exactly what I am talking about.
In the intensity of our moments, on a couple of occasions, a champagne flute had flown in the air and landed on the floor in pieces, a burning mark on the sofa was left behind, and I had laughed it all off. However, despite the rule of 'no expectation' along the way, I counted on some signs of chivalry and thoughtfulness in my gestures.
Following this, Selfridges' (store) delivered a very extravagant set of crystal champagne flutes, one of them broken! I could not help but giggle. A thank you message was in order... And another following to make a point of the irony to which Christofe replied:
'I must be the master of breaking flutes by now!'
The conclusion of the matter is that after I called Selfridges to inform them of the breakage, they wrote back for me to keep the rest of the flutes and refunded the full amount to the buyer. I have not even bothered opening the rest of the glasses; who cares about possessions anyway? It's just good to feel acts of thoughtfulness.
Funny life!
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