The hidden pearls

ivonabozik — Sun, 7 Sep 2014 02:25:00 GMT

That's the thing with travel. The best and the most memorable moments catch and refresh you unexpectedly like a shower of rain on a steamingly hot day. They smooth your mood like the soft comfort of your own bed after a long series of hard-working hours. They are pearls found in the field of grass. Admittedly, it is the all-of-a-sudden-ness and the contrast that highlights their beauty.

I remember a grey day in the middle of October, somewhere between Cappadocia and Olympos, in a town with no other obvious landmark or a must-see sight than its own melancholic feeling, sneaking around the corners of blackened houses. I remember our own fatigue and weariness after a night spent on a bus that seemed to swallow the remains of our enthusiasm. The clouds were pressuring low on our heads and the raindrops had no sympathy for our clothes.

We expected nothing more, nothing worth mentioning. We were just waiting for the weather to pass, for the time to come when we would get on the road again, in thoughts already on the pretty beaches of Olympos. But we had to eat and fortunately enough our guide treasured in his soul the everlasting excitement --- and the knowledge of the region. We let him lead us, knowing there is no escaping following him: the hills and paths of Cappadocia taught us well.

He brought us to a small cosy restaurant on a not-really-busy street and we sat among the dirty walls, behind simple large tables with jars of water in the middle of every one of them (no one dared to drink it). Our laughter fuelled by curiosity filled the air between the seats. I remember looking at other girls, wondering who would check the toilet first (one of them later returned shaking her head with a smile). We had no idea what was about to be brought before us, we were only aware of our own longing bellies.

Two meals soon came, followed by murmuring response of a common ‘yuuum’. I was glad to be a vegetarian immediately after the first bite. Even others were for the first time envious when they tasted the non-meat option of the menu, despite the tasty chicken on their plates. It was simple baked dough with lots of melting cheese on top, but it left such a deliciously amusing sensation on my tongue, it left me wondering what else was in there. I wasn't sure I actually wanted to know.

It still seems improbable, but this stayed in my memory as one of the most memorable meals of my life to this day. I sometimes ask myself if it can really beat the pad thai on Koh Lipe, the falafel with its amazing red sauce in a tiny Parisian shop, the veggie burger on one of the London markets, the uncountable flavours of Tuscany. It is definitely up there somewhere in my mind with all of them and more, locked as the symbol of hidden and unexpected treasures on the way to everywhere.

Oh yes it was a pearl found in the field of grass - of the dry yellowy one for that matter. But what travelling with a whole bunch of precious stones you came home with teaches you is that sometimes these stones are the grass itself, no matter what colour, size or thickness, doesn't it? --- Oh yes you do learn to be all pathetic about the meaning of life when you try to assemble these footprints of the past, but why avoid it? It spices up your life like that secret ingredient I'll never know.

Joie de vivre

ivonabozik — Tue, 13 May 2014 01:36:57 GMT

I’ll never forget that weird Saturday afternoon I arrived to Paris, alone for the first time, driving with a stone in my guts to the 19th arrondissement where I was staying, but not sure how to feel really, me – a petite and timid teenage girl.
I just stood in the middle of the room that was meant to be my home for the next couple of weeks, looking at my own hands, not sure what to do next, somewhat nervous, yes, but mostly just confused. Should I unpack or go out, eat something or find the nearest metro station? After some time had passed without any kind of specific action from my side, I heard the old lady’s voice, shouting my name with her harsh tone and strong French accent, saying she was about to go to the market. ‘’Would you like to join me?’’
My face turned into an indecisive grimace – no, I really wasn’t feeling particularly social at that moment and hanging out with a little stereotype of a severe French Madame was not my idea of a relaxing first day. I was afraid to be impolite though, so I shouted downstairs a gracious OUI - J’arrive!
The decision turned out to be a confirmation to the ancient advice Say yes to things. No, she was still making me uncomfortable every step of the way, her face features that made even a friendly smile look like a patronizing pat on one’s shoulder, the way she carried her shopping trolley bag that reminded me of any single prejudice people have about the proud Frankish nation. But it was the atmosphere of a small street market that erased the frowns and smoothed my nerves.
The Arabic vendors with their energy-full laughs, the smells and the flavours of fresh fruit, so much sweeter and richer than the ones at home, the sounds of people yelling their offers, tooting cars, the sea of folks, the burning sun in the absence of a calming breeze. Everything transformed into murmuring music for my ears, a colourful painting for my eyes, into fullness of life for every single sense I might have (more than those five, I believe). On my first solo-traveller day, I got to feel the best of what you can get when you dive into a city and its life – that is the life of its own residents.
Thus, it is because of Paris I love London and its fabulous, world’s best markets. No, it is because of Paris I keep falling in love with cities, period. (Even my own humbly lovely Ljubljana.) Yes, it is because of Paris I love the city life, the street life: the life.
All because of that moment when I first truly experienced joie de vivre.

Capturing moments of (city) life and beauty

The hidden pearls

Joie de vivre