my wandering

The stream of cars, colourful and battered buses and roaring motorcycles fill the night air with their noise and light, while the shops around slowly quiet down and close, their lights going out one by one. The upper floors are packed with people and so do the tables placed on the sidewalk, so that we hardly find a place at one of the tables placed directly in the street, with all traffic rushing past us a mere meter or so away. There is a quite strong contrast between the street noise, respectively the rather low voices and smooth conversations of those at this place, yet that happens because there are some other things that rule here: the sheesha and mint-infused chai on the one hand, and the wonderful voice of Umm Kulthum on the other.
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For pictures from my trip, click on the link below.

It is past 10 PM. There is no stage, a couple of loudspeakers have been placed on the sidewalk, the old world, elegantly dressed singer performs in the street and hundreds of people surround her, clapping their hands and singing together, while young girls in their colourful dance attire come and go around her every now and then. There is no playlist, roadplan or staging, yet it all smoothly goes on. The whole quite large square reverberates with the music, yet, if one looked at it all without hearing anything, he or she could easily say there is no music at all, as elderly ladies sit on benches chatting, mid-aged men play chess, children go tumbling on the ground, ambulant coffee sellers, as well as shoe polishers are in high demand. With the sound off, the whole square, those around the singer and the others, would seem to be going in rather slow motion, as nobody rushes, there is no ado, and it takes me quite a while to oblige and walk in their slow, relaxed, peaceful pace. But only this way one gets home to his inner self.

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For pictures from my trip, click on the link below.

Everything looks wet, damp or at least humid, the appearance of the ground is often misleading, with water, mud, deep holes or moving stones hidden by the shrubs and peat. The weather changes in a matter of minutes, as views come just to disappear as if one in trying to find a way out of a labyrinth where walls keep on moving around, barring the way. But then, this very labyrinth, this very unexpected and these very hardships make it all worth. Because only after an intense rain one gets the bluest of skies.

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For pictures from my trip, click on the link below.

There are several tables at the cafe filling a wide sidewalk, but most chairs are set in groups of two or three facing the street, without a table. Some people sit and talk in mild voices, despite the noisy street where motorcycles, trailers and cabs create a constant humdrum, where a man by a truck filled with oranges calls for customers. Others, even though they have company, simply sit and look in the distance, a small glass of thé à la menthe in hand, while the cafe attendant busies himself to bring a new glass upon a mere look or small gesture one makes. Conversation here does not need a proper environment, context to occur or carry on. And, one might argue, neither does life.

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For pictures from my trip, click on the link below.

A line of people moves up and down plying the road. Ladies in colourful outfits with their babies wrapped up on their backs while also carrying baskets on their heads. Men pushing bicycles under enormous loads of potatoes, beans or plantains. Children coming from school. People going to field works. All of them walking on and on for miles on end, their skin glittering in the harsh sun or in the pouring rain. A line of beautiful people that has kept on going on for centuries despite - or rather alongside - hardships.

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For pictures from my trip, click on the respective links below, according to the country.

The harsh sun is joined by the strong, cold wind, to create a contrasting hot - cold feeling that makes any smart layering scheme inappropriate. And, as if this is not enough, one needs crawl, knee or scramble according to situation. But when one gets to see it, this little hand transcending millennia, no effort seems wasted or too much.

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For pictures from my journey, click on the link below.

Silence. Tall grass. Bogs. Streams. Lakes. Runaway sheep. Deer. Cheddar. Wind. Fierce wind. Sunshine. Scree. Clouds. More clouds. Blue sky. More intense blue. Trail. No trail. Hills. More hills. 200 inhabitants versus 5,000 wild deer. Ferry. Laughter.
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For pictures from my journey, click on the link below.

There comes a time to follow one's dreams.
There comes a time to value life for what it is.
There comes a time to boldly look in the mirror.
There comes a time to follow the straight path.
There comes a time to say no to detours, right or left turns.
There comes a time to stick to one colour alone.
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For pictures from my journey, click on the link below.