Arles

It is 2 am. I am sitting outside under the most beautiful night sky I’ve ever seen. No city lights, no noise, no pollution, just countless stars, clean air and silence.

Our train back is at around 6, so we have to be up by 4 to pack and clean out the bungalow and check out. So of course, me being me, decided not to sleep. So here I am writing my mind out.

I just haven’t had enough of this place yet; it has been some of the best weeks of my life. How much I’ve seen and learnt cannot be put into words.

To come from a city where photography is not considered art, or is something respectful, to a city where photography is everything has been the best part of this trip. This whole city is based on photography, when you walk down the street 8 out of 10 of the people you pass by are photographers, or at least have passion for photography.

Arles is a small city in France, it is the place where “” emerged as an artist, as a photographer. He was the first person in the world to turn photography from something technical into art. And so this city’s roots were watered with photography and continue to be.

A week ago I got on the train with 5 girls and a guy. Tomorrow I get on a train with 6 friends I’ll never forget, no matter where life takes me.

We have learnt so much about each other and I know I’ve made friends for life.

Walking through the city, going around from one exhibition to the next I noticed I am the only Hijabi among thousands of people. And it really got me thinking. And although some people give you the ‘what the hell are you doing here’ look, most people smile widely, and it is the most heartwarming thing. I have been smiled at in the streets often, but here I noticed it more, and their smiles were different. I honestly have never been so proud of being a Hijabi as much as I was this week, I fell in love with it even more than I loved it before. Being asked about it and explaining why I wear it for people who know nothing about it reminded me of how important it is to me, and I’m thankful for that. Cause when you do something every day it turns to a habit, a routine. And I never want my Hijab to be that. I want to wear it every day and remind myself of the things that let me do so.

On a final note, I am so thankful for this opportunity. It has been beautiful in all aspects. As sad I am that it is over, as excited I am for the future.

Until the next chapter.

Belgium

Upon one of the beautiful nights, I spent in Belgium last week, my cousin and I were sitting in a restaurant waiting for Maghreb prayer to dig into the pizza that arrived a bit early and was so hot and beautiful lying on our table. A very nice Tunisian waiter we have met as we ordered came out of the restaurant door and said out loud: ‘ladies, time!’

My cousin unwrapped a plastic bag with dates inside and reached out to me offering me a piece. Two older men were sitting on the table next to us, very confused by everything going on, asked: ‘what is that in the bag?’ My cousin said it was dated, and explained that we are fasting and this is what we break our fast with.

The night went on and we kept talking to them. One seemed to be in his late 30 and the other a bit older with white hair and a white beard. They both seemed very educated, very smart. Discussions with them went beautifully, we talked about things from politics to ice cream. Fascinated by their personalities we asked them what they worked, the younger was a clinical psychologist and the older said he was a religious man. That made sense, as he spoke I thought he must be some kind of lecturer, the way he talked and delivered the information was not like any normal person. When we got home later that night we found the older man on the web, he seems to be a very important religion man, he has a lot of writings and is quite famous. Anyway,

As the night came to an end the older man said something beautiful that I cannot recall literally, but to sum up the idea it was something like: we are just here to have a drink, we saw you two and we talked, we communicated. If the world could do that; communicate, it would be a better place. It doesn’t matter what religion you come from, all religions speak of peace, of coexisting, of communication and in the end we are all the same, humans.

It is random people like this and random situations like this that widen your eyes and expand your brain. It is people like this that make you feel like it is good in the world, and ignorance didn’t yet take over.

On a less serious note, I had extremely beautiful days with my cousin in Belgium. It is a beautiful city with people from all over the world; the variety of culture you can see in one street is quite fascinating. It is not as perfect as Germany and I loved that. Too much perfection kills the soul, I think.

The feeling of family, though, waking up to family and sleeping to family, was the best feeling after months of living alone. Setting a table for two, having someone to ask about a piece of clothing you’ve tried, chatting with someone about the shallowest and the deepest subjects, laughing with someone nonstop for minutes, all in all having a family member present in your life, actually in front of you and not on the screen of a computer is such a blessing that I think I only realized when I got deprived of.

Here is to another chapter in this little adventure of mine, a chapter now over but very beautiful and will remain beautiful in my head.

Here is to peace and here is to hope. Cause such optimistic beauty still exists.

Until the next one.

Been A While

It's been nearly three months since I got here. And I haven't written in so long.

Waking up away from home has its heartache every morning. Dining alone has its heartache every meal. Walking alone has its heartache every step.

But being alone is the best thing that ever happened to my character.

I've discovered myself in ways I cannot form into words, I just know myself by myself now. I've discovered new limits and new horizons, I now know that whatever happens in my life I can stand tall and not let it knock me down, I've developed self-strength and self-respect I never thought I'd have. I now know what I'm worth. And that was the purpose of this journey, and I am only halfway through.

Not in a billion years did I imagine I'd ever been proud of myself, but today I can easily say that I am proud of myself.

This experience has not been easy, not for a second, even when out with friends and having fun, it doesn't get easy. But hard is beautiful. Hard makes you a beautiful person.

The best is yet to come. The upcoming couple of months are going to be so hectic and I cannot wait to go through them, cannot wait to enjoy them.

Today I am enjoying my last rest day, starting tomorrow I'd barely have time for anything, so I thought I'd just update my blog with what has been going on lately, cause this is going to be nice to read in a few years time for me. And maybe, hopefully, be nice for those of you who like to read my writings.

And here are a few photos from the past month or so.

Dreams Coming True

Like a dream. That's how it feels like to cross off the item on top of your bucket list. You feel like your feet are floating off the ground, and your head gets dizzy, your sight gets blurry and you stare waiting for that moment you'll suddenly feel like you're falling to wake up. But you never do, you don't fall. It happens, and it ends, and you go back home to your normal life.
The next day you open your eyes and you see the ceiling of your bedroom, you are not there anymore, you are here now. And you really don’t know whether to smile because it happened, or cry because it’s over. 

While it happened though.. I was in my seat waiting for the match, knowing it will get delayed because it was raining heavily. But I sat there anyway, under the rain, hovering my sight across the court back and forth. Andrew Barron Murray is going to walk this court right now, I thought. He is going to be a couple of meters away from me. I let that sink in as I thought of all the nights I spent awake, the exams I didn’t study, the outings I didn’t attend to watch his matches. All the sunrises I watched reflect on the screen as I screamed in silence not to wake my parents up. All the prayers I made for him to win a championship. All the hours I spent reading articles about him, following his news. Remembering the happiness that seeing him winning brings to my heart, how I stayed pumped for a whole week after his first grand slam. How I wake up every single day to that photo of him on my side table and smile. How I defended him with all I had when someone spoke badly of him like he was a dear friend. How when I was feeling low, all it took was a match to motivate me. How seeing him fight for the points taught me how to never give up. And I’m an adult now, I know that the only thing that motivates the mind is itself, but growing up, it felt like he was my biggest motivation. This big part of my life that I only saw on a screen was going to stand in front of me, and not even know of any of the things going in my head. 
And after 3 hours of rain delay he did, he stood in front of me. They called his name and he walked out, the court was too silent I could hear him talk and breath. And I just.. I didn’t understand. I can easily say I still don’t. This all feels like one vivid dream. One that makes me very happy. One that would never ever in a hundred years fail to make me smile. 

Visiting the Allianz Arena felt nearly the same. The feeling of happiness dancing through your veins as your lungs excitedly struggle for air as you look around, not understanding. 
And it’s a week later now and I’m not sure I’ll ever get the facts straight in my head. 

Munich. The most tiring yet beautiful weekend of my life. I got so tired that I slept for an entire day when I came back. I really think I slept 40 hours of the 48 hours post my trip. I left at 5 in the morning, got to my hotel at about 12 noon. I left the hotel at 7 in the evening, missed my train and reached back home at 7 in the morning. I can say it was quite the experience, and I am so relieved that I have used up every last bit of time I had. I really didn’t waste a minute. I wore my clothes and I got on that Uban, I didn’t know where it headed, I didn’t know where I went down, I was in a city I have never seen before, without internet connection and without anyone there with me. And I loved it. I walked with no direction; I just kept going forward to the unknown. I think everyone should try to do that sometime, nothing feels like it.