Saturday, 30 September 2017

Extract of My Travel diary #4

Day:  2 Aug, 2016
Location: Amsterdam, a random coffeeshop. 
Time: 3pm

"Unfortunately, whether we like it or not we're subject to circumstances and to the illness of our time.
-Vincent Van Gogh-  
I am standing in front of this giant quote on the walls of Van Gogh Museum. .
I proceed to look clumsily in my backpack for a pen then scribbled the quote in entrance's ticket.
I am shivering…
I am surrounded by tourists
I am alone…
But, I am finally here.
I can see with my own eyes the texture of his paintings, the strokes of the paint brushes , the dried driplets of watercolour.
This is something the little brown girl (I once was) could only dream of.
She only saw the paintings of Vincent in school manual and the wall of her school library.

Sunflowers: 

I was an awfully sad nine years old, struggling with issues I couldn't comprehend. I just lost a friend, the only friend I had. It shattered the notion of noble friendship I believed in before even knowing who Plato was.
During recess, to hide my loneliness from the other kids, I found refuge in the library of the catholic school. There I was introduced to the injustice and the filth ramping on earth when I read books such as Uncle's Tom Cabin (Slavery) and Friedrich (Prosecution of jews during Hitler's regime).

Sunday, 10 September 2017

Chronicles of a 20-ish Moroccan Lady #16


Welcome back,
Chapter 16: Insomniac Visions


01:39 a.m : My eyes are dry, yet wide open. The drugs on the nightstand didn't work. I am trying to capture all the messages running through my brain cells before they disappear into a hole of oblivion. 

02:45 a.m: In this pitch dark room, silence reign on an iron throne. A throne shaken by small revolutions like the sounds of steps on the floor above, noise of opening and closing doors, friendly fights in the neighbouring dorm, my stomach grunts. I am too lazy to close the faucet, drops of water creates a rhythmic torture. The most successful revolution of all is the soothing tribal pan flute melody coming from my roommate's speakers (it helps her sleep at night).

03:37 a.m: My soul is located in my lungs. I feel feathery and dissociated. I am entering a state of trance, an out-of-body experience. All the molecule of my body dissolved and through a tunnel I traveled to an island. Where in the globe? What timeline? God only knows!

Tuesday, 29 August 2017

Extract of My Travel diary #3

Day: 26 Aug 2017
Location: Porto, Portugal 
Time: 00:00 a.m

I was at a Jazz event. The bassist announced he will play his composition "Hidden Messages". He starting with a riff, people cheered for him. I was alone in the crowd, my hands on the velvet fabric of my dress. Behind me a mature couple looked at each other like they fell in love yesterday. The fifty year old man had his arms wrapped around the waist of his lady as she was whispering jokes in his ears.
 They slowly danced to the sound of the bass and the drums. They would giggle then laugh out loud when silence takes over the audience. Sweet rudeness.

Monday, 14 August 2017

Extract of my Travel Diary #2

Day: 13 Aug 2017
Location: Porto, Portugal 
Time: 4:37 a.m

"It's almost almost 5 a.m and I can't sleep. Partially, because I am doing this night shift. Traveling on a student budget calls for these gigs, which I enjoy. It teaches me what camp was supposed to teach me and I have never been to camp during my childhood.
I try my best to learn how to adult, by that I mean do my groceries, budget my money, cook my meals, clean my mess and finally understand how to use a washing machine without panicking.

So far, I feel like I am doing a terrible job.

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Extract of My Travel Diary #1

Day : 23 Feb 2017
Location: Acropolis Athens, Greece

"Yesterday I met a woman who left an impression on me, she inked my soul with her sorrows and wrote her story in my memory. Her name? I don't remember it. Yet, I remember the name of her daughter Angelikki. It means Angel in Greek.
The first time I saw her, she was sitting in the living room of our flat. Exhausted and tired, her face was buried in her hands. She would sob quietly and then storm in rage crying out loud. Her rectangular framed glasses could not hide the dark cercles under her eyes.  She was George ex-girlfriend.

Monday, 26 June 2017

Chronicles of a 20-ish Moroccan Lady #15

Welcome Back,

Chapter 15 : One way ticket

"I bought a one-way ticket to X and I got lost in the unknown" said a blondie around my age in her video titled Why Everyone Should Travel.
In another video, a caucasian man talks about how he travelled for free. "I hitchhiked, spent the night with locals and here you have it … I traveled without money. It's possible"
 I almost got inspired by their after-graduation journey when I remembered…. I ain't no blonde tall man.
I am a brown woman who has an arab sounding name. 

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

One night in Exarcheia - Ouej in Athens-

Welcome back,

"Is everything okay? I heard there are some problems in Athens." asked my worried father in the phone.
"I guess, everything is .. pretty calm down here" I said as I glanced down the Acropolis neighbourhood from my balcony looking for approval from old ladies walking their dogs and colourful buses loaded of tourists.
Nothing new.
Nothing exciting.


I just had greek coffee and I was bored and hyped.
I starting randomly watching the news with my flatmates when I noticed at the bottom of the screen a writing in english "Riots in Exarcheia"

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

My Beirut Experience Part II

Welcome back,

The night life is Beirut was ... something. It is safe to say that Lebanese people know how to party.They have a joie-de-vivre no matter what the circumstances. Yet, Lebanon is not only Beirut. Coming from a bigger country in comparison with lebanon, it astonished me how easily you could travel to other cities.


Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Incomplete Stories -DOC-

Welcome Back,

As I wrote before, I was in Beirut during January.
With a team of international students, we did a documentary about the 17,000 disappeared of the civil war in Lebanon.

With love,

Ouej

Monday, 13 February 2017

My Beirut Experience: Part I

Welcome back,

I am writing these first words while sitting in a vintage coffee place in Greece. I am surrounded by old books, rustic chairs and infonctional typewriters. Somehow this atmosphere takes me back to the beginning of January, when I was sitting with my friends in Yunes coffee in Hamra Street, Beirut.


Lebanon : Myths and Reality

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