Sleepless in Puglia - Italy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Piazza at Borgo Egnazia

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

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

Coming of Light through Darkness

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

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

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

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

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

The Big Night to follow ...

Kemer... Great Karma

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

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

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

Aisha: 'Are you coming tonight?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This reminds me of home!

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

The Queen's Jubilation... The Royal Blog

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

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

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

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

The passing of the vessels

The Royal Barge

The Commonwealth flags

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

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

The crowd outside Buckingham Palace

A Happy Queen Elizabeth

'Unity through Diversity' Prince Charles' Speech

 

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

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

Shopping Spree... In a poem

"It's not your job to like me - It's MINE" by Byron Katie.
"But if you like me - Know that I love you" by me.

Family, family. It is lovely to have my sister Hala over, sharing the good times with my kids and our excellent entourage of super-duper friends. The sun has come out (finally), and the warmth of summer days is here, making London the most fantastic city. People look happy, responding more generously to their smiles. I'm still trying to sort out my summer clothes; finally, it's over!  

After all the worldly hopping
Accumulating all the possible shopping,
My apartment has the air of a bazaar
Looking in from above, it must be so bizarre.
How can a woman with one body and two feet
In the height of summer, need so many clothes to beat?
The rows of shoes would put shame on Imelda's addiction
Gloves, hats, belts, remember the bags, reality or fiction?
How much lingerie alone have I purchased recently?
From outrageously sexy nighties to some decency.
And here I was talking of the greed of the politician
While where I have to look is within, could that be my mission?
I have worked so hard to reach this positive level of serenity
Stopped smoking, in control except, is it a case of lost identity?
Lost in the momentary excitement of buying something new
Why the need for so many possessions? Do I even have a clue?
'Enough, enough girl', I keep telling this extravagant heart of mine
But then, I am blessed with as many friends as flowers in a shrine. 
A life filled with love and joy from old as well as new
As in my cupboard, colourful, green, pink and blue.

So what is the complaint if I like to shop here and there?
Sometimes, my room is filled with many clothes lying on a chair.
The most important thing is I am grateful and still breathing
Of a liberated life I never imagined, forever increasing. 
As long as love is around, everything is solvable
Everything becomes irrelevant when love is probable. 
What we own in this world, we are leaving behind
For this reason alone, make your life worthy and kind.
To end on a naughty note and finish it off with a smile
Have I had as many lovers as clothes? Although it has been a while!

I never imagined I would be inspired to write a poem after sorting out the heaps of summer clothes and shoes. (I won't continue with the list!). But there you go!

As to what have Hala and I been up to? Sis arrived here, recovering still from her fall at a fancy dress party back at home, where she slipped and broke her ankle. The cast has been off and we both realised she can no longer power-walk in front of me in her flat Todd's, every time we go out. I hope she gets better soon, and I will no longer complain about her speed ahead of me.
Anyway, we had to miss going to Fabric on Saturday for our evening of rave. Instead, we had a wonderful dinner at Lady Saba's, then on to the Arts Club in Mayfair, where we met up with Alain and Romel's friendly smiles, Aisha totally in charge of everyone's comfort, dressed in a Frida Kahlo style, joined by Pedro, Hessa and others. The night continued as a new destination with a view over the theatre land, where Aisha directed us. It was the typical 'GG Party'. And what is GG, you may ask, as I just made that up? 'Girls and Gays Party'. Wonderful. Meeting a worldly, handsome, fun bunch of people was a pleasure.  

Aisha's bar-b-q took place on Thursday evening on the terrace overlooking tall trees and the green gardens; feeling the close hug and familiar kisses upon entrance, with smiles as warm as the summer evening breeze, it turned out a very delicious soiree. Very civilised in terms of time, as we left by midnight, but did we end the night there? Nope. We partied at a new couple of friends' apartment in the hood. Summer makes me feel alive, and getting better acquainted with the company we were keeping was a great way to end a bright day. Also heard a few great tunes played by Bashir, our host, under the high ceiling of modern space and the balcony viewing of Hyde Park under a clear, starry sky. 

I have yet to mention the inspiring workshop I attended on Saturday, 'Writing from life' with Vicky and the writer and comedian Alexei, as they took charge of stimulating our minds further to an open space of creating words to connect with the reader. Well, hopefully, it is working! The main thing is, I love it. Writing this blog is helping me immensely in the discovery of the Self. How about we understand anyone if we don't begin the process within ourselves?

Learn to love with an understanding of what makes people react the way they do... But first, begin with yourself. Acceptance is a primary key.  

As I read Gandhi's words today:
"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."
Be strong!

Angelique Kidjo in Exotic Manchester!

Dream on, but do not attach expectations to it and see it unravel surprisingly beyond any possible image you could have thought.  

Now, where is this leading to?  
It must have been a couple of years ago, or three or one (I simply cannot keep track of time as it rushes me past), when I was shown a DVD of an incredible singer called Angelique Kidjo performing at Lola's. She came on stage, looking tall in a manly black suit worn with a white shirt and moved along the stage like a tornado of power with the most enchanting voice. I asked Lola who she was and whether she was as impressive in person as in the video. I do remember saying:
"I'd love to meet her one day."
I meant that I was happy to see her perform live on stage, but little did I know I would actually get to meet Angelique Kidjo in person!

Donna, whose friendship in the few months we have known each other has deepened in my heart through her warmth and kindness, had invited me on her trip to see Angelique Kidjo perform in a theatre in Manchester. I gladly accepted it, as no is not an option in my book. After a short sleep and a late night out, I awoke early to meet Donna at Euston Station for our two-hour, fifteen-minute train ride to Manchester. It takes the same time as it takes to go to Paris! Here was so much to talk about that a nap along the way was not in question. e arrived at Piccadilly Train Station in Manchester (somehow, I would have never related Piccadilly to Manchester!) and went on to check into our hotel.  

I had not grasped Donna's closeness with Angelique, and it was quite a surprise when she said we were meeting up with the world-famous singer for lunch!  Ms. Kidjo walked into the lobby, followed by her husband. I was taken aback by her petite appearance, but boy, lurking beneath that small frame, was a character larger than life. We were of similar age but worlds apart. 
As we walked through the mall in the town centre, I was amazed at how modern the city looked. In all the years of residing in this country, I do not recall visiting Manchester but a weekend in its countryside visiting an old childhood friend, Ruby, who lived there for a year. W l, there is always a first time. In the little we saw of the city, the combination of modern and old buildings next to one another brought a certain charm to the place. We lunched at Nando's, which I learned began first in Africa! I am the only one who has yet to notice this? We also know something new every day in many ways.

Manchester Mall

In the afternoon, we were all picked up at the hotel by a special van to be driven to the Royal Northern College of Music for rehearsals. Up and entering a back door stage of black walls and high ceilings, we were shown the stairs that led to Angelique Kidjo's dressing room. I may not have been jumping up and down with joy as a youngster, but inside, that childish excitement at a candy store overtook me. I kept telling everyone: 'This is so cool. As old as I am, I feel like a six-year-old right now!' Then, I thought: 'Why do people try so hard, at times, to hide their feelings in the fear of looking 'not cool'? I never want to lose that child-like innocence.'  

Rehearsal - Behind the scenes

Donna and I were later joined by Ernest and Kelly, who chose to drive through five-hour traffic to get there for the concert that evening. We sat amongst the audience for an exhilarating two hours of a musical soiree. I was smitten by Ms Kidjo's distinctive deep vocals, the words baring knowledge of love, loss and life, of her father's guidance even now he has gone (this made me cry, thinking of my dear papa), her love for her family and her land; Africa, amongst many other subjects.  
"The microphone," announced Angelique Kidjo, "Is my weapon of mass love."
It gave the spectator an insight into the remarkable woman she is, in the way she thought, and when she walked amongst the crowd, right to the top of the auditorium where everyone was standing, she showed yet another gesture of grace. At the last song, Ernest grabbed my hand to join others from the audience at Angelique's request to dance with her on stage.  
After the concert, Donna said: "Haldita, you looked as though you were in your element dancing on stage to her music."
I replied: "Oh my darling, I was."
That evening ended back in our hotel lobby, having dinner and an exciting conversation with a couple of the crew.

Angelique Kidjo in Concert

The image I always had of Manchester, a cold, grey, somewhat industrial city, changed after my visit and experience into a colourful, exciting and happy town of exotic charm. It confirmed my point, which is that it is not merely the facade of a place that helps us envisage the impression it has left in our mind, but especially the people we come across on that journey who leave us with memories of that city.

For a different kind of scene, Friday was an invite from a DJ friend, Bass, to a rave party in Notting Hill. Si ena met me at the entrance of a warehouse-like building, accompanied by a group of international companions, to be stamped into the dark, exotic ambience created amid a vast area. We arrived early, before midnight, and walked through the desolated dance floor, past the DJ playing, to get to where one typically goes on such occasions... The bar. In no time, the place filled with a crowd of beautiful people and the night took on a full swing. My goodness, so many embraces from friends made mainly through the nights of clubbing! Kasar showed up amongst the familiar faces with a warm hug and words that I could only sigh with particular joy. From Miami to Vegas, he met with mutual friends; he reported: "Haldita, you must be having a great life with all the positive vibes being sent your way."  
Indeed, I do.

As we settled into the party's mood with DJ friends playing on stage, I turned to Sirena and recalled: "Oh, Dear! I e someone waiting for me in bed."
Sirena looked at me rather astonished and asked: "Really?! Ri ht now, as we speak?"
My answer was: "Aha. My new man. Despite his persistence in keeping me home, I had to come and see you guys as promised. So  he said he would send out a search warrant for me!"
She raised her hand to give me a high five and smiled: "Respect."
I left the party scene sooner than the finishing hour; it was rather odd noticing police cars and vans all along my drive home!

Monday was a home rest to relieve the cold I had picked up in Manchester. On Tuesday, my dear sister Hala arrived here to plan our next voyage of sun and sea as soon as she walked into the door. The reason for writing my blog was delayed from Tuesday evening to today was an outing to the Brompton Club by an invite from Sirena for a French Tuesday, an event organised every last Tuesday of the month on a global scale for the jet set crowd to attend in the city they are visiting, or living in. Al and Romel were there before me, and Hessa turned up shortly after 8:00pm at a large table in the corner of the club.  
I asked Sirena: "Darling, did you book half the club tonight?"
Before the end of the event at midnight, Aisha walked in on her way back from Paris to meet us. The music turned sour, and we returned to my place for a catch-up with some friends. He ce, it was very late, and I was too tired to write last night.  

Now... Could romance be in the air, or is it a temptation? It may be an imagination running away in my mind. The e will tell.

Saint or Sinner?!

Gratitude

Blessed

Content

Detached

Free

These words came to mind at the beginning of my meditation today.

With a positive attitude, life flows by, like a river on a mountain, under a clear blue sky, in the glow of sunshine. All I care to hear is the birds' sound and the leaves' movement as they barely touch through the breeze of the fresh air.

There is always a reason for absolutely everything that happens in life. Be it a smile from a stranger, for a momentary boost of the mood, or an in-depth chat with a friend over the progress we have made along our journey to reach a state of joy within. What made me get so emotionally philosophical now was an inspiring lunch with Charlotte, talking about the fruition that comes with a good heart and a better understanding of how the world operates on a spiritual level. Let alone anger, ego, and attachments of any kind, and instead, replace them with love and forgiveness, detachment, and freedom. Free yourself of all expectations.

Last night, my new... Mmm... For now, let's call him 'my new intimate friend'; he went to the movies and had a delicious bite of Japanese at a new local restaurant. A yummy night altogether.

I picked a French/Canadian film called 'Cafe de Flore' by Jean-Marc Vallee. At the end of the movie, I was left astounded. It intertwined the life of this 'perfect' couple, in parallel to the love of a protective mother towards her son with Down syndrome. Stories separated by time and space, conjoined by love. This a definite recommendation. It reminded me of a book I once read about past lives called 'Many Lives, Many Masters'.

In case you found the beginning of this blog too heavy, let me tell you about a fun adventure that happened not long ago!

On one of my journeys of discovery of the self and places, I found myself landed in Kerala, India, with Aisha, Aida and Raquel, on an ayurvedic resort amid a garden of Eden, on top of a forestry hill, close to the sea, after two weeks of early morning meditation, followed by yoga, vegetarian meals and two hours of massage by two ladies daily. On our last night, we decided to dine at the sister resort to ours called Somatheeram, ten minutes away, accompanied by our new friend Omja, who had been most hospitable in showing us around the area on our two weeks' stay and with whom we had well acquainted over our regular visits to his jewellers' shop in the compound of our hotel. The night had fallen as we arrived at Somatheeram, dressed up in the Indian costumes we had purchased on the day for our last supper under the stars. As I took a picture of Aisha in her loosely worn headscarf, I noticed a blue-eyed young man pass by and smile. Of course, catching his glance, I asked sweetly:

"Do you mind taking a picture of us?"

And so he did. We asked him to join us for dinner, but he declined; however, he took our mobile number in case he could come by after the meal. 

We finished our meal, and as we returned back to our place of residence to catch a couple hours of sleep (not me, being last minute, I had not packed yet) before being picked up at 2am for our flight, a text arrived, from whom but the blue-eyed Vlad asking whether I needed help packing! After all, a girl could do with the company at a late hour amid a forest. N'est-ce-pas? Remember I was sharing a room with Raquel, who was in a jolly mood, chatting to us over dinner after her first half bottle of wine in two weeks.  

But that cheeky kiss he stole from me in the bushes that night before leaving must have left its mark as two years down the line, I received a text from Vlad, saying he was visiting London for two weeks and asked whether we could meet. My busy schedule had not allowed any time for a get-together since I returned from New York. On his last day, we finally managed to see each other, recalling the possibility of our brief encounter and the re-visit. Different friendships form in different ways.

Last week, as part of a cultural feed, Sylvia joined me on Wednesday at Tate Modern's Damien Hirst exhibition. Although I did not consider myself a fan, his work on butterflies caught my attention, especially their light blue circle, fine and delicate. The countless medicine cabinets, each carrying a theme as in 'Sinner' to 'Anarchy', with a recommendation of different pharmaceutical goods to take for each heading, from Zantac to antibiotics and pain killers to many more suggestions. 

We left Tate Modern in the rain to catch a taxi to the West End's Royal Haymarket Theatre to see the comedy 'One Man, Two Guvnors', which was funny but not precisely the humour I enjoy. Once our cultural needs had been satisfied, hunger drove us to dinner at the very trendy Bodega Negra basement in Soho, to be the last two leaving the entrance next to the Sex Shop on the street.

Another visit to Novikov's restaurant last week was inviting Hessa to celebrate her years at a large table with her many friends present. After dinner, A group descended to the basement club for more chatter and a little boogie.

Where else did I go?  

Omar had asked me to accompany him in Westfield (Mall) one-afternoon last week to look for ladies' high heels as he and Bobby were invited to a fancy dress party of 'black tie and stilettos'. I was totally flattered by my friend asking me, and we giggled while he tried walking in them, being thrown glances of lifted eyebrows as Omar innocently confessed to never having tried high heels before. Not only did Omar and I meet again at Hessa's party, but he and Bobby invited me and Kristel out to Noura's fabulous Lebanese on Saturday night. We met three times in one week!

Tonight, I have returned from a cocktail at Savoir Beds. In this shop, a party was held promoting their high-quality beds, filled with feathers and girls dancing in Myla designer lingerie for the evening's entertainment. The invite came from Kelly, asking Ernest, Torsten and me to join her at the venue; right up my alley in more ways than one!  

As I moved my head from side to side to look directly across the crowd, Kelly followed my gaze and smiled, asking:

"And what are you looking at now, Haldita?"

Then she turned around and noticed a tall, long-haired blonde man standing on the opposite side and said: "It's just eye candy; I knew exactly."

I blew out air and said: "I don't just have a sweet tooth, you know? But also a sweet eye!"

We parted ways before midnight tomorrow. There was a new destination in store.

As one of my friends texted:

"Haldita, are you in town or on another one of your exotic destinations?"

I had to reply: "Well, I'm off to Manchester tomorrow, out of all places. Would you call that exotic?!"

 

My life is so varied, and my stories are diverse... Now...  Am I a Saint or a Sinner?! 

Neither really, I am just me; sometimes saint, others sinner. 

High Line New York to O2 London

Every city has its Wonders, and New York's latest development, the High Line, is an elevated linear park on an old railroad track site, ranging from the Meatpacking District through Chelsea, close to the Hudson River. 

 

Elliot had suggested I join him for a stroll on the elongated bridge over the city. The fact that the weather was cold and cloudy happened to be in our favour as the tourists were a fraction of what, Elliot mentioned, usually would be the case. 

'We don't allow such minor details as the weather to stop us from whatever great plan comes along' was a point of view my friend and I shared. Elliot and I had travelled around Ukraine together on a train some years ago. He explained how 'the gay boys moved out of Chelsea into Hell's Kitchen' and hence the beginning of the rise of the development in this area. We finished the tour in the cold breeze at the trendy Scoop boutique, where I managed to leave with four cashmere jumpers (or sweaters, as the Americans put it); they did have a sale on them! We then looked around Jeffrey's trendy store in the Meatpacking District. Still, my attempt to find lingerie in that area of town could have been better, so we headed to the recommended La Petite Coquette boutique in University Place. 

The very efficient saleswoman came to my rescue when I told her frankly:

"I've a date tonight, and I'm desperately looking for something special." 

Don Juan's re-appearance, this time on the New York scene, was an episode of High Chaparel meets Sex and the City, a case of make-belief. Then again, isn't every scenario of our life simply a fabrication of our mind before we act upon it? We met up at the bar of his trendy hotel for a drink and a nibble. Needless to say, I needed to catch up (not easy being a lady!). Our exchange of flirts, accompanied by the bubbles of champagne, turned the evening into a fascinating ending.

The following day, all the excitement of the past few days left me in a deep nap at midday to wake up and realise I was late for my meeting with Josh, exploring the Metropolitan Museum! Instead, we walked around Central Park before I cabbed down to the hip Standard Hotel, yet again, back in the Meatpacking District. This time, it was to see Lori, who was also visiting New York. We had soup at the hotel's outdoor restaurant. We left to walk around the area and pay a visit to her enchanting musical friend Rally, only to head back to the Beer Garden at Standard, where we met up with Pari, who was an accurate picture of a hard-working New Yorker, slender, in a dark suit and white shirt. 

After a can of Red Bull, I managed to get my strength back together to join my companions for dinner at the Grill of the same hotel. We managed to spend our entire day at the Standard!

As Pari parted and we wandered, thinking of heading our separate ways, the loud music from Hogs and Heifers' Saloon drew our attention.

I asked: "What's that?"

Lori explained: "It's one of the oldest bars around."

I smiled: "Shall we?"

In this dingy, dark, all-American saloon, we noticed heaps of colourful bras hanging along the top side of the bar on the left. A jolly, male-dominant room, where the two bikini-topped ladies in shorts served mainly beer. They then raised the sound of a country tune playing and jumped on the bar to stomp their feet hard, dancing. It was amusing as more ladies joined them on the rigid, wooden strip. Lori was busy chatting to some Swiss travellers when, on their second round, I jumped on the bar to join the only barmaid dancing. She asked if I would take my bra off for their collection!

Upon entrance earlier and seeing the hanging bras, I told Lori:

"Darling, whatever happens, make sure I don't take my new bra off. I only just got it from Victoria's Secret!"

On Wednesday, the evening before leaving for Southampton, I joined Arnie and Elliot for dinner at the highly recommended Babbo's. The restaurant was fully booked, with the option of going early and hoping to find stools. As my friends arrived on time, they found the three best seats at the corner of the bar near the entrance. The waiter was super sufficient, and the food, especially the choice of three kinds of pasta we tried, was beyond words. Next to Arnie sat a gentleman in a suite; Kevin began the conversation by telling us how he manages his travels by flying through New York, especially to have dinner at this eatery. As our gourmet experience ended, Kevin recommended a club called Avenue on Tenth Avenue. Arnie and Elliot were too tired to join, so I happily agreed to accompany our new friend Kevin to the disco. 

As we arrived by taxi, the doormen told us we were more than one hour too early for the club's opening, so we diverged to the first bar along the same Avenue, at the Morimoto restaurant I had visited when it first opened. Kevin was delightful to talk to, and he dropped me home in a gentlemanly taxi.

Then came our trip to the Hamptons with Elliot. Next episode.

For now, London is calling. 

After quitting cigarettes and the high calories accumulated in the US, I went straight from Heathrow airport, landing myself into a Weight Watcher's Program on the Monday I arrived back home! WW seemed all about 'points'. As one lady said, "It's WW as opposed to AA".

I accompanied Ernest to a book signing on Tuesday evening at Gucci's Bond Street store. Derek Blasberg's latest book, 'Very Classy', is on how to be 'An Exceptional Modern Woman'. My friend invited me to one of the most delicious sushi I have ever tasted. Not quite in keeping with my Weight Watcher's points, but the food was irresistible.

Thursday, my wonderful friend Al was in town, and he had asked me to join him, Zaine and Kam, who were all in Mykonos. Later, we met in Hvar last summer for dinner at Montgomery's in Notting Hill. Their loving, friendly energy boosts my joy every time we meet.

Now, for Friday, it was dinner at Bar Boulud. Surprisingly, I had been called at the beginning of the week by an old friend, Jodi, who lived in London many years ago and then moved back to the US. We had lost touch some thirteen years prior. She had managed to find my mobile number and had called to ask if I could join her and her mum for dinner upon their visit here. It was such a pleasure seeing them again and sharing our history of more than a decade past.

As for Saturday... I left home at 13:00 hours to collect Ernest and Thorsten for a surprise brunch visit to Troy at his gastro pub. After those yummy cheeseburgers, I played a few rounds of backgammon with Torsten and Troy and smashed my way up to the top by winning every game. Sorry, boys, I just had to rub that in! haha

On Saturday evening, Pedro collected me before midnight to dance to Luciano's music at the O2. The club was previously known as Matter, which I had never managed to get to because it's soooo far away. They held a memorable night of Luciano DJaying till the early morning hours. At the VIP lounge, I had one of the best times, with plenty of familiar faces and warm hugs from more Mykonos party crowd to quite a few of my Fabric buddies. Plus, I managed to disappear into the smoking open area, where drinks were served, and other DJs played, to make more new friends. What a joyous time! From 1pm Saturday to 8am Sunday.

No need for a tunnel; when you see the light

Life is a journey of love and friendship from Manhattan to Greenwich, London. As Ernest beautifully put it: "We all love to love. What else is there in the end?!?"