 Dusty:Starlight:Culture
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This is the Time of the Worlds Colliding
2003-11-10 9:44 p.m. In a sun-lit haze of desperation, faces scatter around the market place, struggling to fulfill an unforeseen purpose. Bells hang from alleyway stalls, noise is every where, spanning a range of languages from the sharpest German to the most rhythmic and striking Arabic. The heat is oppressive; nonetheless heavy brocade fabric is everywhere. Amidst the dust kicked up by road-side beggars, donkeys, scooters, and tiny trucks are women in the most beautiful and elusive fabrics, cascading from the tops of their heads and reaching down past their ankles. I sip mint tea from a clear and smudged glass; I lean back in an unstable chair and stare at the broken mosaic that lines the floor. I imagine the existential thoughts filling everyone's head around me and wonder why I'm not having them. Everyone seems to have them, from the hawkers to the thieves, from the backpackers to the weavers. Their purpose is bigger than me, bigger than what I could ever understand. Life is different here, a complex maze of survival instincts that reflect the difficulties in navigating the medina. There's a place where the sand stretches out for hours and days, a place where sudden recognition of just how many shades of red there are is lucid and commonplace. Wind makes patterns in the sand, lines snake down to your feet. You think the desert must go on for years and years. Everything is bigger than you, which is exactly what you need to know before you can ever understand yourself. Just some notes I took in Morocco; we've been thinking about going back there with our precious five to seven daybreak. I'm wistful, want mobility so bad I can feel it burning in my muscles. We're not discounting Marrakech for our soon-to-be trip; Sandi will not be in Brazil since she has to save time on her visa, and as much as I love Ireland, there's something about the desert that is pulls at you once you've already been... Searching around for good deals to anywhere. Note to self: next travel story will be called "A Free Night at The Aloha Hostel...in Paris". Oy vey, where are these "deals" everyone keeps telling me about? If you know, give a jingle. xoxoxoxoxoxo T
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