I spent a nice weekend in Lisbon in Portugal. I hanged around in some cafés reading the amazing book "Caliph's House" by Tahir Shah (you have got to read it - I will write about it more I promise), walking within the centre and taking pics. I met a friend from Poland who came over here all the way from the city of of Vigo in Galicia in the North-Western part of Spain and then met a Portuguese friend of my good friend from Rabat. I had some cool time with both of them. I tasted some Portuguese cakes, Portuguese wine etc. The city is really gorgeous.
Normally, I should have been thrilled and excited about this trip. I ought to have been walking within the narrow streets staring up and around being amazed and totally swept by the city. I was not. It was not the case for me anymore. I felt ok, I felt good but my excitement was gone somewhere. There was no life is a movie moments.
I guess I am done with Europe. It's really weird to have realized especially when I see that 9 months ago the city of Lisbon inspired me to write how badly I had missed that continent. Now, the same city makes me express my totally opposite feelings. Am I a complete schizofrenic? In Morocco, I would be totally fed up with my experience in the morning and greatly excited in the evening or at night. At least I knew how to love it. Do I have two personalities? Or maybe way more than two? Will I be able to be happy out of Europe? Maybe, it's only not about it. Maybe it's me. And maybe I just miss my kind of people. Those with whom I can laugh, joke, have some SATC discussion or the intercultural conversations. Probably, it's the mix of everything.
A few years ago a few parts of the centre were completely smashed by a huge fire. I saw no fire this weekend.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment