Late Night Confession

I begin my every day with a zest for life and happiness. 

Late-night confessions ... To myself.
I live to love, and I simply walk away when my love is not reciprocated with passion and honesty. Gossip bores me to tears, besides there are so many exciting experiences to share with those open enough to pour their hearts out, as am I, to waste precious time on talking of another, which is pure judgment. So, for those who judge, go deep within and look for what is giving you pain. What are you questioning and beating yourself up about that makes you need to put another down? 

My mama taught me beauty, so beauty is all I choose to see, and life helps me cross paths with beautiful souls of all ages and nationalities. 
What do we call 'strong'? 
Each of us has had hurdles to cross and challenging times to endure. It has nothing to do with money. It is all about our thoughts. 

Where does beauty begin? 
Within you
Where love resides.

The search is over
Your destination is here
It always has been.

Now, shut those tired lids.
Let go of all tension.
And concentrate on you.

Feel the good in you.
There is plenty to celebrate
Abandon all that is of pain.

Give way to the flowering bud.
Nourish a bee with the flavour.
Of the Sweetness of life.

Love thyself and forgive
All that is hurt you
Give yourself the gift of love.

I am grateful.
Oh yes, I am.

This is 'strong'

@halditanotes 

Meeting in Morocco

Feeling baffled at the state of our world today! What is going on?!

It is questionable how so many query our world affairs yet can barely find solutions to better their lives. Everything begins in our minds, at home. I hardly spend time listening to social media, and still, from the news I do come across on my Facebook friends' posts of Trump and Clinton, I am bored to tears and truly saddened. What a pitiful state our world is coming to!! 
You will be glad to know we do not engage in world politics here on this blog.

Now, let me tell you about my latest experience in Morocco...
I have visited the country on numerous occasions since my early teens, and on a few of those occasions, I acquired some rather strange tales, one of which was previously on my blog about Marrakech.

During a visit to Africa, I met a man who seemed quite special. He was educated abroad, rather charming, very hospitable, and generally admired by many.  
Thinking back to my youth, I had fallen head over heels in love with Sidney Poitier in his role as the black fiancee of an all-American girl. The movie in question is 'Guess Who's Coming to Dinner. It is a classic when she introduces him to her parents and tells them how he wins them over with his academic and humane reasoning. So, forever looking up to a man full of wisdom and righteousness, I got taken aback somewhat by this man Boudie's mannerisms at the time.
We kept in touch after my visit, and recently, he got me somewhat intrigued by the idea of meeting up for a 'romantic' weekend in Morocco, as he put it. Why not, I thought. 

My ticket to Casablanca was delivered by mail, and I flew in to be met by Boudie's chauffeur. He informed me that we were driving to Marrakech the evening I landed! 
"But Marrakech?!" I exclaimed, startled. "How far is that?" My tone was disappointed, and rightly so.
The driver informed me that it would be 225km away, so after a three-hour flight, it would still be about a three-hour journey. Oh well, I was there and had no choice but to stay positive and go on with the ride, as usual.

When we arrived at the luxury hotel, Boudie awaited me at the entrance. By 11pm, when we found a restaurant serving dinner, everything nearby was shut, so room service was exemplary by m. When Friday morning arrived, the driver returned to take us to the souk, which had changed drastically (positively) since I last visited. The shopkeeper explained that we walked to a small teahouse for a 'royal' tea made up of dried roses and other ingredients. This was followed by his shopping, then mine at the souk, before midday prayers when they shu. A spot of lunch at a nearby charming hotel, where he was greeted by the receptionist and went looking for the beautiful shopkeeper, whom he introduced as his cousin. Afterwards, we returned to the hotel since Boudie had work to do on his laptop while I strolled around the boutiques in the lobby trying on Moroccan jellabas and abayas, with no joy of any purchase.

Dinner that evening was at one of my host's favourite spots, sitting in the garden of an elaborate home while he happily surrounded himself by the girls working at the restaurant. Before we reached the eatery, he proudly announced that there were only girls working there, and they were his wives! That was meant to be funny, I guess. Fine by me. 
He did ask: "What would you like to eat?"
I answered: "Fish, preferably."
But he was not so keen on fish and ordered two lamb dishes, which he admitted afterwards were not the best choice. But then he says:
"By the way, I'm leaving Saturday, tomorrow night."
"Wha? As in tomorrow, tomorrow night?" I needed clarification. 
"Yes." Boudie seemed surprised at my inquiry.
"So, why did you book my ticket for Sunday afternoon if you're leaving tomorrow night?" One was not amused. 
"But I did say I've got to be back for Monday." He was convinced of his commitment.
"You certainly didn't mention going back Saturday, or I wouldn't have bothered coming!" I tried not to raise my voice and stay calm, but hey.

Upon return to the hotel, a group of about ten or twelve young ladies were about to enter the lobby when one of them noticed Boudie and came running along, giving him a warm hug and introducing him to her girlfriend. They barely looked my way. Boudie then turned to me and said in delight: "H ! This is the friend I told you is having her birthday bash in Marrakech." And he indeed had told me that, and that is that he is surrounded by women. Truly glad for him but did wonder what he had learned from that. 

It so happened that Boudie's flight was from Casablanca too, and I never found out why his travel agent had booked our flights to and from Casa with the hours of drive rather than simply the airport in Marrakech! So the following day, after breakfast, a four-hour drive to Casablanca was organised with the same drive. We sat mainly in quiet throughout the ride; it was only when I saw the trucks with sheep carried in the open cargo back on several occasions that I enquired:
"These sheep are taken to be beheaded for Ei. Right?"
"Yes," Boudie nodded and continued: "That's why I've got to go back, as I told you. I've ordered eight sheep for the occasion. Only our sheep are well tailored for the occasion."
I did not take notice of that last remark but enquired in bewilderment: "Eight?!" And went on to add: "I remember as a child being disturbed by the beheading and hid away in my room while the butcher arrived with the poor sheep at our door. Never saw what happened and refused to eat that day."
He then laughed and said: "You were spoiled. To watch the beheading teaches us sacrifice."
"To watch an animal be slaughtered in front of you is the way to learn sacrifice?!" I knew continuing using this conversation would irrelevant ance, so I let it drop and only pretended to listen to any further explanation.

We finally got to the Four Seasons hotel in Casablanca, and Boudie booked himself a massage before his flight without any inclination to meet my needs. So, I happily went to the pool for a long swim to let off some steam and a spot of sunbathing. 
Upon return, before he left, I asked:
"Is the room booked for breakfast by any chance? Just so I know."
"No, I don't believe so." He answered coldly. Then he added, "Oh!" You can get the hotel to take you to the airport tomorrow; I've let the driver go."
Most charmed I was, and on that note, we bid farewell, and Boudie left.

In fact, I could not have been happier to spend the last night on my own, digesting what just happened, writing my three pages, sleeping soundly for eight hours and waking up at 8:00am to take a walk by the sea. I was in great spirit, smiling at the few passersby, and spent an hour by the pool, swimming and catching the last rays of sunshine before getting ready for my flight bac. I may have been disappointed, but nothing much surprises me, and I am always grateful for every experience life brings my way. One can only learn.

I got back home to London and sent a brief thank you note to my 'host'; however, he replied back by sending me photos of his sheep being beheaded with blood everywhere. I simply could no longer tolerate such insensitivity after pouring out my feelings about how I felt about the matter, so I texted:
'I won't sleep tonight! Boudie, I've well thought this out today. It seems we're very different, you and. I felt somewhat insulted by how you treated me during our stay, but I kept calm. We shouldn't keep in contact. All the best and goodbye.'
He answered: "I'm shocked!!!"
I replied: "Me, more."

The End

The story's moral is... If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.
Life is simple, and everyone is different. As François, my therapist, used to say 
'Everyone comes from a different map. You've got to go to their map and history to understand why they behave the way they do. You would do the same if you came from their map.'
Also, there are two sides to each coin, and only goodness knows what Boudie's version of this story may be. He must have thought, 'What more did the woman want? She was spoilt, after all!'  
So, in no judgment and only because we cannot see eye to eye when in doubt, live without. Or, in this case, leave without.

Royal tea

Streets of Marrakech

Souk at Marrakech
 

Casablanca morning

Photos on Instagram account: 'Haldita'

@halditanotes

Happy as a Hippie in Goa!

This is a story like no other!

India is a destination that people either love or choose to keep away from. On my first visit some six years ago to Kerala, staying in a scenic Ayurvedic resort, I came across some heartbreaking sites of animals lying dead on the beach while passersby simply looked away. Watching mice and, another evening, a rat going up the very tall ceiling of the open space where the massages took place. Then again, I watched rats and mice cross the poshest streets of London and foxes that came out at night. However, in India, there is an air of spiritual serenity, a way of acceptance that makes it all humbly forgiving. Sentiments that feel spiritually more fulfilling and real than the monotonous, almost meaningless, greedy lives lived in the Western world.

The will to visit Goa last December 2016 was a mutual agreement between Sis and me. This was a destination where I felt the time had stood still from the old days when people knew how to be kind and considerate to one another. As tourists alike, we were delighted by the warmth and helpfulness of the Goans. Our trip was to last ten days, and we had it set in our mind that we were leaving on Wednesday, 14 December. The days passed, laying on the wooden sun-beds of long sandy beaches, watching colourful sunsets behind a shimmering sea and swimming, eating great food, shopping at the vast markets; the Saturday night market in particular, exhilarating in tones of vibrant colours, live music played in one area, aromas of fresh food being prepared, bars and finally at the top, a DJ playing till early hours of the morning.

Time flew by, and on the last Sunday of our visit, Hala and I taxied our way up North to meet with a couple of friends I had made in Ibiza ten years prior. We fell in love with Mandrem at first glance, the tranquillity of boundless sandy beaches and the friendly people we got to meet. The place was so magical when our new friend Hailey suggested we stay the night and walk to Arambol, only 45 minutes away, and watch the sunset while the drums were being played; a great idea not to be dismissed. The detached straw huts at the newly renovated Beach Street were dreamlike and happened to have a sea view hut in the front row for us. After an amazing two days and one night spent in Mandrem, we returned to our fancy hotel one hour away, in the same bikini but a new wrap and our beach bags, happy as hippies. 

Mandrem

Arambol sunset

Arambol

We entered the lobby with big smiles and straight away came across the night manager, it was 7:30 pm, who almost barged towards us and asked:
"Aren't you in room 212?"
I answered with a big smile, thinking how sweet it was that they remembered our room number: "But yes, we are." Then they went on: "Oh! We love Goa."
The night manager cut through my words and asked in a rather harsh tone: "Madam, where were you?"
That was a bit harsh. How dare they ask where I was? I smiled again and answered sweetly: "What do you mean by where we were? We were in Mandrem; we love Goa."
The man seemed irritated but went on in total control, without much sympathy: 

"But, Madam, you missed your flight early this morning. The agency came to pick you up at 4:00 am, and you've been missing since yesterday. We called the police," he pointed towards two men standing in civilian clothes and continued: "We asked around and went to your friend's hotel, where the taxi had once taken you. We called your mobile number with no success. We were so worried for you!"
At this instance, Sis Hala butted in and said boldly: "There must be a big mistake! We've our tickets in the safe of our room. Our return flight is on Wednesday, 14 December; I can get the papers immediately."
The night manager mildly answered: "Madam, we've emptied your safe and room. The room was booked, and your flight was on Monday, 14 December, today!"

Oh, dear! The thought of them having vacated our room threw a shiver down my spine, as no doubt it must have done to my sister. The contents of our safe were enough to create chaos alone in itself! Some recreational goodies for flavour, four passports due to our dual nationality, two expensive watches, and money in four different currencies in case of emergency; after all, we were visiting India! An iPad, Kindle, goodness, and more! What must they have thought?!

By this time, we were sat at the reception desk, with the manager opposite, a clerk, two policemen behind us, etc. We did our utmost to express apologetically how mistaken we were. Hala said, "You must understand this has never happened to us before. We're worldly women and have travelled extensively."
I began cracking jokes: "Oh my goodness! Whoever packed all that shopping in our room deserves a medal!" And: "I can only imagine what trouble we must have put you through searching for us and how much of your valuable time and energy we must have wasted. Can't apologise enough!"
At this stage, a large white laundry bag is rested on my knees by one of the staff, and the manager continues: "Here are the contents of your safe. Please check everything is there and sign here." 
He points at the 3-page inventory of each documented article before me and repeats: "Please check and sign now!"
Meanwhile, standing next to the policemen, a woman in civilian clothes ordered me to hand in my beach bag to be searched, which I immediately obliged. After a thorough search, she asked sis to do the same, while under pressure, I briefly looked into the laundry bag filled with goods and said: "The main thing, is the passports are all there as I'm sure is everything else!" I proceeded with signing the papers, for which I had no intention of checking the items off, one by one. No way!

In anticipation of what would come next, we continued charming the police, as our hotel staff, for their brilliant patience and expertise in dealing with the matter. But the rush of blood inside was an experience not to be forgotten. The night manager expressed his concern about us having gone missing and offered us a room at a discounted rate until we decided what our next steps would be the following day. The police left! Phew. The man in charge showed us to our new room, and our luggage was delivered shortly after. Before he left, he simply said in his delightful Indian accent: 
"Madam, we're just so happy you're safe!"

Everything was returned to us safely! And we decided to stay another four days since we had to buy new tickets and moved to Mandrem for the duration! Amazing.

Our feelings for Goa were pure love, so much so that we rented a fantastic house for a month in the winter and went back only two months after our first visit. All I can say is that Goa is a magical place. Due to the high, warm energy of its inhabitants, whether they live or spend a considerable amount of time of the year there, everything falls into place wondrously.

Live your life as if it was your last day on earth. 

(Photos on Instagram: Haldita)

There is always a way out... Switch!

Keep sprinkling potions of love and kindness around
As rose petals of every colour-laying on a field of green grass
Smile and cherish every moment of this blessed life
As there may be no tomorrow.

Our life is as thin as a thread, ready to fall apart in a snap
A string absorbent of all you feed it makes it strong
How you may ask, will I survive all that is going on around me
How will I cope?

Wherever you're in life, whatever problems you face
Stop! Close all doors to the draft of past memories
Pain can only drain you of every positive energy
It will leave you sad and lonely.

There is enough sorrow facing our planet and its future
Do not dishearten my friends. There is always hope
The future is bright if only you allow it to be
Let go of every fear.

First and foremost, there is a switch in your mind
Close your eyes, let go of every thought and stay still
You hold the power of the button, which can bring changes
Switch it off!

Imagine a blue sky with a scorching sun shining upon you
Fill your every cell with the warmth of golden rays
When you're ready, allow forgiveness to take its course
Let go of any other thought.

We are here to live in peace and harmony all around
Dis-ease will only bring heavy burdens on our tired shoulders 
Life is too precious to let it pass with grudges
Let love in, cry.

Past is past; leave it behind and start believing. Have faith
Forgive yourself as of all those who have done you wrong
In the words of Jesus: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."
Have mercy upon yourself.

You deserve much more than you give yourself credit for
Begin by counting your every blessing and show gratitude 
What you have now may not be there tomorrow
Que sera, sera.

Go out and live every moment as if it was your last
All the worry will leave you sick and tired of life
Indeed, you have enough intelligence to figure this out
So go and live from a loving heart.

Sending you Love and Blessings!

And no, I have not turned into Mother Theresa! Haha. 
The lady was unique, as we all are.

The New Me...

After a long absence, I am pouring more of my deep emotions on another page...

I began writing here exactly six years ago, in August 2010. 'Time flies!' This is the shortest sentence we keep repeating, but what impact does it indeed have on how we live our lives and behave generally? 
How often, in a day, week, or month, do you truly stop and watch your lives from a proper perspective? Showing gratitude towards everything life has granted you, rather than concentrating on what you don't have? I wake up and bow to the universe around me, the God inside of me, and I thank him/her. To me, God has no gender; God is God, and then I wink and smile. This is how I begin every day, and blessings pour my way in the form of miracles. Every day is the first day of the rest of my life! Every day is my birthday. When generally asked, 'How are you?' By anyone, anywhere, my answer is: "Brilliant! Thank you." or "Fantastic!" or "Fabulousness!" and "Amazing!"

I have travelled to many destinations and met the most incredible people from all walks of life and ages. The fourteen years since separating and living on my own have been filled with lessons I feel blessed to have experienced; there have been moments of hurt and questioning, of course, there have been, or how else would I learn. The main thing is I have kept a positive attitude every step of the way and always concentrated on feeling grateful; this alone has given me the tools to achieve overall happiness. I fill my every cell with love and always think of the kindest way possible out of any action I take. Boy, am I learning all the time!

What started me writing was, first, the fantastic coach and therapist who taught me many valuable lessons of life when I was so ready to take in his every word and counselling for three  years before he told me fifteen years ago:
"Haldita, this will be our last session; you don't need to come and see me anymore. You're ready to go and help others. But promise me, you'll write a book one day!"
These words stunned me as I was involved in the design. Apart from the love of writing inherited by my poet grandfather, I couldn't possibly imagine how I could possibly write seriously to be read by others!
Secondly, it was after the death of my father and the months it took after a liposuction surgery, which had left me in agony, with the lowest immune system catching every virus in passing, staying home and grieving, which led to a one-day writing course and the courage to begin. The rest is history. 

After almost two decades of a turbulent marriage in which both my Ex and I had to learn many lessons, all in the name of love, we then parted amicably. So, I knew what it was like to suffer in silence and try every day to make him realise I was worthy and certainly not worthless as I was led to believe through my own belief system. Through therapy and workshops such as Landmark Forum and Advanced LF, which lasted 3 then 4 days of 14 hours daily; watching, listening, talking and learning, various meditation courses, and constantly questioning, I learnt to free myself of every thought and deed from the past. I craved peace and happiness and found the tools to escape my rut and start afresh. Afresh is an understatement, considering where I was and where I chose to rise to. It came with faith at all times and gratitude, always.

If anyone felt like a grain, I made myself transparent into the rebirth of a future I beheld. I still call and thank François, my therapist and mentor, for his guidance. Age became meaningless, and absolute love was my goal. Free of all inhibitions, I gradually managed to get rid of all fears, constantly challenging myself to a higher level of being. I have now chosen the name for my book and the beginning of its first chapter; when I'm ready, the time will come. 

You are each born a unicorn. Take a moment to think about it. You are worthy of all love and kindness, but to see this develop, tap into your inner being and feel the love inside of you. Until you learn to love and appreciate who you are and forgive yourself for the mistakes you've made in the past, it will be hard to move forward; otherwise, it is basically not totally possible. And my dear ones, life is all about possibilities; don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I became a wild child as I had nothing to fear and did everything I pleased, while everyone around me had to adapt to the new me. Reading my stories here, which have only been the censored version of what actually went on, must have given you an idea of all the madness I experienced, all in the name of fun. My life became my fantasy and my fantasy my life. 

Life is as extraordinary as you make it out to be. 
I'm free. 
I'm me.