What is life but a series of unexpected follies? + London Fashion Week

Today, I read... 'I celebrate the amazing life before me and appreciate the beauty of it all'. How appropriate, I thought.  Had to comment... 'I do. I do. I do ALL over and thank my Dear Lord for everything he's granted me.  Good and Bad. It's from 'the bad' that I've learned to be tolerant and have a positive outlook... The good times always follow.

Another fabulous weekend of... Partying, of course.
Come to think of it, it has been an inspiring week altogether. Beginning on a new business idea with a very dear friend.  

I can't believe an early, mid-week drink with Sophie and Aisha at George's private bar went on to calling on Cher at home, joining Mykono friends visiting at Cipriani's and ending the night at Maddox club!

Another couple of friends visiting London for Fashion Week were Belma and Ahu. While collecting the girls to dine at Fino's Tapas, I felt super jolly and dwelled on the white leather dress to compliment my two fashionable friends. At the traffic lights, while paying homage of gratitude to God, in the brisk air of the clear night, with a moon shining right at me, I noticed a man in a Range Rover smiling at me, big time. Looking down, I saw my bare, tanned legs, which must have taken his notice as he sat in a higher car. As the lights changed, I shrugged my shoulders, smiled back and drove off. There now seemed to be a 'car flirting' going on as we drove. In the folly of it all, I lost my mind, put on the indicator and turned into a street opposite where I was meant to go!
Then I thought again about the decision to take the next right turn in a comprehensive high street; the silver Range Rover pulled up next to me at another light and gestured to open my passenger window.  
"You're stunning." He declared abruptly.
"Well, thank you," I responded flirtatiously (as one does).
"Can I tempt you to a drink?" Was his following approach.
The light changed, so before causing further disruption to the traffic due to the encounter, I asked him to drive in front of me. I stopped behind his car at the first possible parking position, and the tall, bold, sexy-looking stranger walked to my passenger window. He further declared his fascination and proposed a request for a drink.
"No, no, no." Was my answer, "I'm late. Going to a dinner now."
The moment's thrill excited me, yet I had decided there would not be another meeting. However... It was in the challenge of knowing whether I had intimidated the poor man with my upfront, 'too-friendly' approach that I passed on my telephone number and rapidly drove off.  
Basically, I like confident men!

At dinner in Fino's, the story of the pull by a Range Rover amused my friends. Belma and Ahu invited me to a fashion show on the following day. It is Friday, and my party of Mykonos/Hvar revisited 'chez moi', which is due only hours away. However, the 15:00, An-Pierre Braganza fashion show at the Neoclassical surround of Somerset House was calling. My friends were waiting in the cobbled courtyard. Once inside the black box purposely built catwalk, we were shown a first-row seat.  I felt like a child in a toy store, waiting impatiently for the models to carry out the goods. They did look like very serious 'sticks on high heels'!  Is this really what women are supposed to look like? Young, skinny boys with no definition in their bodies? And not a smile on their faces?  
What happened to the voluptuous, sexy women? It is a matter of opinion, I guess.  
Had my own photo shoot.

It was a quick getaway after the show for a hairdo with Dez, and I made it home early enough to be ready before my guests arrived.

What a fun party it turned out to be. Our 'Croatia group' (except Daren, who happened to be on his romantic trip in Paris), a handful of The Mykonos connection, some of whom re-appeared on The Boat, next to us in Hvar. Troy managed to escape from work. Charlotte is my new partner to be (business-wise) with Nicolas, Clarissa, and more. Everyone seemed comfortably at home, conversing. Apart from the neighbour (poor man) ringing my doorbell at 2.30am to ask for the music to be turned off (not even down), all went smoothly.

Saturday was clearing the aftermath and getting ready for a night out with the wild Isabella and her friends Ciela and Paolo, who were over from South America. Dinner was at East End, The Modern Pantry. Modern in design, the restaurant served its philosophy; the food looked desirable and excited the palate in a refreshingly original manner.
A cocktail was to follow at The Zetter Townhouse, conveniently next door on the cobbles of the EC1 square. The draw was due to its buzzing atmosphere of a certain decadence, dimly lit.

Finally, after midnight, we made our way to Fabric, which was only round the corner.
It was a mind-blowing affair of sound amalgamated with familiar faces. The new manager was a bubbly, friendly character I got better acquainted with. Lovely Hilda was there to welcome us; she asked of my partner in crime, Hala, as Hilda calls us 'The Criminal Sisters'. And, of course, the charming organiser of these magical nights, plus consistently surprise appearances by various Fabric buddies, made it into a magical all-nighter.

Ciela, with a slender, exotic look and her partner Paolo, a very cool dude, were a joy to get to know. I must have been South American in a past life. We shared our love of music, dancing through the night (and most of the morning) and bonded. They insisted I join them on their trip to Ibiza in two days, but it is best to decline another five days away and concentrate on work.  

Life is but a splendour!

Dubrovnik - 'Our Croatia'

I must be hanging out with too many male friends. All I could see in this view was Sophia Loren!  As in her boobs, with a cleavage. Haha

On the way to Dubrovnik, lunch was a pit stop at Gastro Mare, along the west shore in Kobas.  We indulged in a seven-course gourmet meal over a bottle (or two...) of Croatian wine. The husband and wife chefs left us gobsmacked through and through.

                       The deconstructed Apple Struddle


The conversation at lunch was over a book Daren was reading, 'Cyber Gypsies', about people who break into the cyber world.
"They hardly sleep, these hackers," Daren continued. "As behind a computer, they could be working round the clock, there's a working hour in some part of the world at any time.  Sitting mostly in darkness, in front of a screen."
He then said: "People build strange caves to live in."

The gourmet dining left us obliged to undergo significant exercise.  
The charming crew of boys got out the toys.  Ernest was keen to wakeboard, Torsten was manoeuvring in the skies, Daren was seen almost flying on the power boat, and I asked the crew's youngest member to show me the jet ski.  Before getting on, I said:
"Cheri, why did you give me an L/XL jacket in bright pink?  Guess it must be the boobs!"
Kelly and Ernest laughed while the boy gave me a cheeky smile.  After a few fast runs on the machine, I approached The Boat and asked if Kelly would like to join me?
Between the cute Frenchi or moi choice, Kelly opted to go with me.  I was flattered.  As she got on behind, I gripped the accelerator, and we began screaming at the top of our voices in that tranquil surround.  Flying high in spirit ...  In total freedom.  A sudden splash of water from the speed boat driven by another crew hit us in the face as he deliberately did a fast turn right next to us.  Cheeky!  But it was fun.
We next turned our way towards Ernest, with the wakeboard on, waiting in the indigo sea to be pulled and began singing the Hawaii Five-O music aloud.  Nah nah nah nah na na ...  The thrill of speed and fun keeps us young.

The night was spent at sea, under the stars.

Our last day was a long promenade in the afternoon through Dubrovnik, an absolutely charming fortress.  The back streets, filled with restaurants, shops, and sights, are no wonder George Bernard Shaw baptised it as 'The Pearl of the Adriatic'. The Dubrovnik Walls are most impressive.  We strolled down the streets and began climbing the stairs, which encircled much of the city.  Those gleaming marble streets lined with baroque buildings.  We finished our three-hour tour at sunset and returned to our hideaway in the comfort of our habitat.

          

                  

               

There was a guillotine sitting amongst flowering plants.

 
                  

 

              

What I remember most about this magical holiday is all the smiles I encountered.  Ernest was superb in the way he made sure we all enjoyed every second of our time together.  It is not easy embedding an ensemble of people together, who could be so well fitted for a journey, as synchronised ...  In harmony.  Gracias mi amor.  In other words, thanks, my love.

Now, back at home in London, things are moving fast.  
Al was in town after Hvar, and we met up with a couple of his witty friends over a cocktail at the Connaught Bar.  It was the first time we talked about getting to know one another.  What an absolutely 'special' man.  Another person I would happily put on my list of 'Super Cool People'.
We headed to the outdoor smoking area for a cigarette at midnight before heading our way.  As we stood chatting, two girls walked past when one of the girls, blonde and slender, pulled her trendy, black framed, school teacher glasses down, looked at me and said:
"I know you.  We've met in Fabric."
Amused, I looked at her with a lifted eyebrow, trying to recognise that exciting look, and said: "Well, that would be quite possible."  
She smiled, then continued: "You know how I remember you?  I'm reading your blog!"

The surprise, not only on my face but on the faces of my new friends, was a treasure.  I guess there is no higher ecstasy for a writer than to be read.  
Oh!  And ...  Clarissa darling, I can't wait to meet you adequately at my next party ...  Soon.

And why 'Our Croatia'?  
We enjoy the delights of each city 'with' the people we share it with; hence, each city becomes ours for our time there.

Hvar to Korcula at sunset

There are not enough words and pages to express my joy in meeting... My new friends as well as my old buddies.


Back to Hvar... We are now together, a colourful bunch of five with extraordinarily different backgrounds. One thing we share dearly is to embrace the good moments of life with gratitude by bringing joy into our lives and everyone who surrounds us.  
As we left The Boat to book the Garifuna restaurant for dinner, we encountered the boys and their friends sitting on the deck below. Harun was the first to come and greet us, standing next to their Ferretti. Followed by Al... And Zaine. Faced by the stunning babes smiling at different angles on board their elegant surround. A picture-perfect moment of happy faces.  Bliss.  We agreed to meet later for a drink or two.
"We party back in our Boat," Harun announced.


As we finished the open-air dinner at Gariful, from a green hedge behind our table to the sound of cheering from a birthday party going on at Carpe Diem (the club), we turned our heads to the appearance of a face from above the bushes, inviting us to join her party. While the boys agreed to accept the invitation, Kelly and I headed back to The Boat. There again, Harun walked ashore next door to invite us to their party on board. As I accepted, without hesitation, Kelly made a runner on me and returned to get some rest. Oh well... I chatted to such an eclectic group of guys and girls. Amazing.  
Seeing Al again since Mykonos was so good, wildly when he sweetly laughed at my lack of absorbing names. Rightly so, too.
Before I knew it, dawn had launched upon us, everyone had disappeared from sight, and I was enchanted by a deep talk with the bright Paulina. Why bright? She was in her early thirties and seemed to have discussed what makes her happy and how to reach that goal. Good on you, girl. An absolute pleasure.  
Finally, the time had come to head to bed.


The next day, we woke up to the empty space where our friends had anchored the night before and made sail (well, so to speak) towards Korcula.  
As the slight outline of the castle, houses and green bundles of miscellaneous trees grew larger in approach to the island, Kelly pointed out, in her particular accent:
"Oh, look!  I think the captain decided to anchor straight into the coffee shop on the island!  All we've to do now... Is step over!" 
We were on the upper deck; the castle was built on a slightly higher level to the sea, and the coffee shop did seem very close.
Kelly and I were dressed in bright red tops and white hott-ish pants to visit Korcula.  


Ernest was in his groovy jean jacket, covered with light chocolate Apache embroidery, matching his Panama hat. Daren, in a baggy washed-green t-shirt, is identical to his cap and enhances the pigment of his eyes.
Last, Torsten, Our Man in Panama, is tall and slender in his figure-hugging 'sailer look' navy and white trousers and white shirt.  
Each carries different styles of funky shades.  
We stepped off The Boat to 'hang out' in town and watched the sunset atop a castle tower with a caipirinha in hand to soothe our thirst. It was such a romantic moment in time. Romantic in the new sense of love flourishing between friends, without judgement, without ownership and definitely non-sexual.

 Oh!  And I saw The Mermaid again. 

It's a deja vu from Copenhagen!

Back on The Boat, Dinner was being served under the ebony sky filled with stars. I noticed another shooting star, a single rayon of bright light, appearing in a flash into the darkness of a mysterious galaxy.


Another day to follow, another way to the walled, magical castle of Dubrovnik... Awaiting Us.

Hvar... by Sea

Busy... Bizzy... Bizzy bee-ing!


After the heavy-duty weekend of Carnival partying, the unexpected invite to visit Croatia by sea sounded like an enchanting plan. And so... I buzzed off.
Gatwick was the designated airport where the gang of five of us met up early Friday morning to catch a flight to Dubrovnik and, upon arrival, were driven directly to The Boat anchored in Cavtat, only minutes away. Ernest, Kelly, Torsten, Darren and I were excited to spend five days of bliss under the sun, at sea.


Through the fruition of my positive thinking at all times, even during moments of doubt, there are experiences of a surreal nature which follow me everywhere. Or am I following them? I have not even begun, nor have I had a chance to write about them... Yet. But it feels like I live in a fairy tale world, where people are meant to come back into my life in the most magical ways, and I embrace their return with open arms. I feel the need to share some of these moments...


Andrea sent me a BBM on the eve of our flight to Croatia and responded to my wall: 'What an amazing weekend. WOW'.
Andrea: "You're always so terrific and happy! I love it!!"
Me: "Thank u, baby. How have u been?"
Andrea: "Great. Miss you!!"
Me: "Me too, Chicita."
Andrea: "U sure??"
Me: "Yeah. Positive. U won't believe this: I bumped into Charlotte and Nicolas in Fabric after almost a year of not being in touch! It's great having them back in my life. We are the way we are. All of us. And that's fine when u can laugh together. The rest is what's silly. It's 'fine' now, as the Scotsman said. Remember?"
Andrea: "Yesss. That's great, Haldita! I spent Sunday with a guy friend who has brain cancer - malignant. He can barely walk! You're right; the rest is silly. He was so hot when he was 18."
Me: "Life's too bleemin' short to hold unnecessary grudges. Don't wanna do that! Packing for Croatia now."
Andrea: "Yapa! Have fuuuunn!!"


Back in Cavtat, The Captain of The Boat suggested our route for the next five days. We lunched at a bay and swam in the Adriatic Sea before heading to Hvar the next day.  
We anchored at the port in Hvar, close to Carpe Diem, the club I had visited on my last visit with family, Charlotte and Nicolas.  
Kelly and I got casually dressed, ready to shop. We wandered around the maze of narrow streets in Hvar while I shopped for hat after hat and wore a flamboyant black and white one to return to our domain. It was fun hanging out with Kelly, having a girlie moment of 'shop in the sun' and those photo moments!

Once back on our sacred 'place d'habitation', we joined the boys on the top deck, lying on the sunbeds, watching the world go by. We all stood up when a Ferretti780 pulled up right next to us, and if only you could see the smile of delight on our boys' faces when they encountered all the hot chicitas on board! Who could blame them? They were cute. Kelly and I returned to our seats while the boys could not take their eyes off the new arrival. Once anchored, I had to stand up and say:
"Com'on, let me see les blondes you're referring to."
As I looked on the deck below of the smoothly leathered Ferretti, there he stood, a great party friend from Mykonos, only a month before! The question was... Did I remember his name?  Nope. My 'Oy' shout did not work through the blasting music deriving from their Boat. So, I got the attention of another chap onboard and asked for the name of 'the guy with curly black hair'.
"Harun," he answered.
"Please call him and tell him it's Haldita. We met in Mykonos." I shouted across.
And so he did, and not only did Harun come out, but his three other buddies from Mykonos showed up behind him and called my name with their hands in the air.  
Now... What was the chance of that happening? And for me to get up and see the adorable chums with whom I partied on the beach and night in Mykonos only a month ago!!!


We partied once more while mingling and bonding our group of friends with theirs. Life is full of beautiful surprises. Once more ... I cherish every moment.


Rest of Croatia to come... Na Night.

SW4 Clapham Comm'on and on ... To Notting Hill Carnival

My bank holiday week-end began with a bang ...  And as it happens, it ended with a bang too!


Sharp at 11am, as promised, Salar showed up at my door, while I crawled out of bed and left him with a coffee and music to get ready for SW4.  Ernest arrived soon after and we headed towards Clapham Common to meet the rest of the gang.


As we queued to enter the protected area, a sudden downpour hit us by surprise but rapidly changed into a sun shining day.  There were huge tents laid out throughout the ground, with top DJs playing their tunes at different times.

Salar's uncle managed to find us at The Cocoon Arena, where Loco Dice was playing and Torsten arrived with his old buddies visiting the city; Jayden (Jay), Aiden and Cole.  It was an awesome day spent listening to fab music; tent to tent.

SW4 ended at 21:00 but Ernest and I decided to leave Sven Vath playing an hour earlier, in the hope of finding a taxi and made our way to mine.  As we chilled to a selection of soft House music, the boys and their newly made friends joined us 'chez moi'.

Isabella had bbm'ed and she was ready to party, so I asked her to pass by with her friend.

The party from SW4 got diverted to continue on till early hours of the morning at SW10!

Sunday was a day of recovery for me!  Oooff.  And that was just the beginning of it all.

Early evening, I wore a figure hugging (& boy, did it hug!) Jean Paul Gaultier number to attend the last night's showing of the African musical, 'Fela' ...  Again, only this time at Saddler's Wells.  Cabs were hard to come by as the Notting Hill Carnival was going on at the other end of the city, so I managed to get there just on time. 

Lola, accompanied by a row of her guests, handed me the ticket to this triumphant musical which thrilled me once more to the end.  I do thank my hostess for organising such a vibrant affair.

The whole cast was invited to a private venue, where we next headed.  Ernest, accompanied by Torsten & Co arrived later, to what must have been one of the coolest parties of the year.  The familiar faces of friends were too many to name.  Everyone happily mingling on two floors and dancing.  I do not remember sitting down till early hours of the morning ...  Once more!  I got to chat to the main character of Fela Kuti, who gave a magnificent performance throughout.

The 'left-over' of our group gathered as the party ended and headed to Torsten's, in order to get a view of the Notting Hill Carnival; not to be missed.  Once at the apartment, the noise from outside, was buzzing in ever corner of the room, a sound pulling me to head back out.  Jay seemed the only one keen to accompany me, so we left the rest of the boys resting.

We walked out the door, into the festivities of colourful costumes, the sound of Afrobeat (a deja vu from previous evening) bursting through the loud speakers and rows of floats passing by.  Jay and I walked through the crowd, took pictures and seemed to both take the route to where Sancho Panza was to play the coolest sound of House music.  The police were everywhere and I stopped to tell one of them how I, for one, appreciate their hard work.  

We finally entered the narrow street where the DJ was due to spin later on, although his music was being played already.  Magically, the back street was empty of any crowd and I spotted a red door with one step where we sat in peace.  By some miracle, the sun gracefully pushed the clouds away and shone upon our absorbent skin, bringing out a flame within.  Soaking the heat of the sun in and giving out the fire of passion.

Inhaling on the puffs of a 'carnival joint', I closed my eyes in the worship of the sun, facing the sky above.  Jay's strong body sitting close to me, with his arm laying on my legs, threw a shiver down my spine and my heart began to pound.  The gentle brush of his hand, felt like a feather down my bare legs.  I did not want to open my eyes as though the magic of the moment was simply a fraction of my imagination.  I was flying along the clouds above, oblivious to all that surrounded me.  The music being played at the far end of the road was heavenly.  As I surfaced momentarily back into the now, there were police and security standing at the other end, far from where my mind was ...  Or my soul had flown to.  

I was lost in time ...  In the moment of lust. 

There is a lesson in every situation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he was not quite persuaded by my response:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Later tonight, Salar messaged me to say:

'Hellloooo gorgeoussss'

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

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

'Aaaaagggghhh'

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

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

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

Salar: 'Hahaha.  Finally SW4'

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

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

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

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

"You forgot?" Henry asked knowingly.

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

"That's alright." He was understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you alright Henry?"

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

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

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

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

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

He was about to leave when I said:

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

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

Two weeks in sunny Tehran

OML... As in Oh My Lord!

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

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

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

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

As a mother... To my mother

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home ...  Bliss, home again.