Day FiftyFour

Morning Monday shift

and Gregg walks in with his small backpack.

He was here last week 

until he left for Bekka Valley to go out and

help at the refugee settlements there.

He works with an organisation and is quite active 

but I don't know much about him.

'Hey welcome back!

No induction needed then, huh? :)'

'Nah'

'Your bed is upstairs in the mixed dorm :)'

He jumps the stairs and leaves his stuff.

I hadn't realised how tall he is.

I notice he has spots on his face

and I wish I had been as confident as he is

when I had spots on my face.

He's quiet 

but not in a passive way;

rather in a more 

observant way.

It makes it hard to start a conversation

because I feel that dropping something light

might be completely out of context 

to the vibe he's observing.

It makes it hard to start a conversation

because it's lowering 

the level of awareness.

And I'm sure he's that great.

Cz if he wasn't we would have been able to hold a conversation.

Day FiftyThree

A day in the sun

On the floor 

In the living room

Swinging legs 

left and right

Roll downs

to the floor

Back rolls

to the side

and 

Splits on the wall

and through the

window frame.

On a song that Chadya played

and gave me rhythm

to dance.

Contemporary.

Day FiftyTwo

Hangover Day.

Though I didn't go out last night, I'm being a compassionate dorm-mate

and hanging around and hanging over with the rest of the 

sleepless

intoxicated

tired 

mates of the hostel.

One (vibe) for all

and

All (vibes) for one.

Midday discussions over beer

 include peanut butter (Mallory's favourite)

and vegemite

(Joel's favourite- yup we got an Australian in the house),

and both seem to be desired heavily

on the sunny terrace.

We decide to go out for lunch and we set a time.

The time comes

and goes over

and over a bit more

as we are gathered in what has become the 'gossip/girlie dorm'

to prepare hair, styles, ethos'

and an appetite.

We're all ready and the girl gang meets Australian guy for the long desired lunch.

We reach an Armenian restaurant in Burj-Hamoud 

and order things we don't know the look or taste of.

They arrive.

We dive in.

And the sensation of having a meal hasn't felt that good before.

#exaggeration

The guys keep having beers and I just grab a 7up.

I'm hanging big time;

til I remember I didn't go out last night.

Day FiftyOne

Reality check

for things that bother, 

and are bothering

me

and

you.

Being constantly observed

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being snappy on every interaction

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being mistrustful 

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being accusing

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

Being fake

is a thing that bothers me

and it bothers you too.

So before we clash

let's think again

and read again

and see again

that me

 could easily be exchanged with

you.

Day Fifty

Golden Anniversary

for 50 days of blogging,

seeing that it might not reach

the 50 year anniversary.

If it does though, 

I really do hope I remember to link this blog post to that!

...Blogging is something so flexible yet so insightful;

you can choose what to write

yet you write it the way -you- see it

it gets delivered in your own package

and the reader received whatever has been packed.

People who have experienced the same day

will give a completely 

different 

collection of events and feelings.

And that's pretty amazing;

pretty much like real life,

where you see one thing

and the other sees an other.

So this blog post is dedicated to perceptions

and how the blog

intensifies them;

brings them to life;

or sugar-coats them.

A blog will also ask for 

reflection.

It has helped me over the past 50 days

to look back in the day and

remember,

relive,

and appreciate

the sweet gestures,

snappy replies,

honest looks,

and 

warm hugs.

And it is now teaching me to take 

none 

too seriously.

For they are all

expressions 

of the moment.

And whatever you give focus to

grows.

So I'm glad

whatever needs to grow more will;

and whatever needs to die will;

inshallah.

Day FourtyNine

Shatila Day

after Zeed motivated me to come along and teach English 

after missing out on a week and basically giving up on the girls' fitness class

which is now carried out by Alex and Mallory.

The girls kept telling me during the week

'you are loved there'

and 

'the girls are asking about you'

but

my only response was that 

'I feel everything'

which makes it hard for me to carry.

But I went.

With less weight on my shoulders and the dream team alongside.

The kids are always excited to see us

and it has become a familiar place for us too.

Even people on the streets can recognise our faces.

The day starts and we have a class and then a break.

I'm eager to walk upstairs to the girls' school

to visit them

as they pledged me to do

two weeks ago.

I know they know I know

they don't forget me;

and I wanted them to know

I don't either.

Their teacher Mohammed is on the stairs 

and I ask him where the girls' classroom is.

He says 'Which girls?'

I say 'Ifal'.

She's my younger soul sister.

He walks us to their class and opens the door.

I appear slowly in the picture

and scan the faces

I face.

I notice Ilaf,

sitting on the front seat.

The more confident funny friend sitting behind her.

Her younger sister sitting next to her.

Our contemporary dancer is sitting on the front right.

I look further,

the more mature girl who takes the class seriously sits at the far right.

I see eyes dilating

as their wonder grows 

at how I made it to see them.

We stand awkwardly,

speechlessly

motionlessly

connecting 

with no 

way

to explain to anyone watching-

all the things we've discussed

in that one moment.

Neither side wants to let go

but Mohammed is standing at the door

and Mrs Sarah, their teacher,

is like, ?,

so I say 'I will go to work now'

blink,

nod to them,

and make my way out of the picture.

#strong

#priceless

#deep

-

We go downstairs and outside for some tea on the street.

I notice a woman hanging clothes on the balcony 

of Ilaf's flat.

And I suspect it's her mother.

I always look to that balcony

in a secret hope to come across Ilaf

or her older sister.

I walk below the balcony and wave to the woman.

'Hello. Ilaf mama? Inti?'

'Eh!'

She recognises me.

I try to explain who I am but she already knows.

Ilaf has spoken to her family about me as much as I have spoken

to my family about her.

It's mutual.

'Ahlein'

Come in, she waves. Come.

I say I have to go back for the second English class

and she says I should come next time.

She is so welcoming,

it's like we've hugged from the first floor balcony she's at

and the noisy street I'm at.

I can see where the girls get this beautiful

loving sense from.

And I look forward to 

embracing their invitation.

Day FourtyEight

Crazy when you find people you click so well with

from the start

and in a very honest way. 

The last time this happened was with Jay

and now I'm feeling it again with Chadya.

She's lovely,

to everyone,

so was Jay,

but they have this amazing way of connecting with me specifically even when I haven't actually

given them the chance 

yet.

I wonder how they do it;

being effortlessly amazing.

Chadya for instance walks in and out speaking French

sometimes English

and most times Spanish.*

She addresses me as 'Hola Chica'

and I'm starting to think someone told her I'm Spanish.

'Do you think I'm Spanish?'

I ask her.

'No habibi!'

*(and sometimes Arabic)

She smiles and continues in Spanish.

She's the light of my day cz she sees through me 

and wants the best for me.

She's not afraid to say it clearly

and to push me for the better.

She's a powerful woman

and she inspires me.

And even though this sounds like it's all about me;

it's really, all about her,

and Alex,

and Duce,

and Hanna

who have been 

motivating

the shit out of me this week.

#girlgang

#respect