Afraid...

I am afraid of a godless life.

 I'm afraid that I won't love and be loved. That life is empty. That it will be this way.That I am too special or too ordinary. That my dreams will stay only in my head. That my eclecticism will prevent me from doing things till the end. That my fascination with art and creation will fail me. That I will be too practical or too imaginative. That I won't leave my mark in this mysterious journey called life. That I will age while leading an ordinary life.

I am afraid that my country is too small for my dreams and aspiration. That the feeling that I'm missing out another life in some other corner of the globe, will never disappear. That my wanderlust desires will be always itching me.That even when I'm away, I'll be always missing home. That I'll give up anything to go back. I'm afraid that I won't be afraid anymore. That nothing will challenge me to grow. That this will be the death of me, spiritually.

I'm afraid that this text is too poetical, too factual or pretentious. I am afraid that you will be consumed by it, that will will read till the end. Because just like me, you are insecure about certain things. You are afraid to say your fears out loud to yourself, to people, to friends and loved ones. Because it's easier. It's just easier if you don't.

I'm afraid that ink and paper won't be enough for my words. Or that my life won't be enough for them, words. That I will be too busy or too available. I'm afraid that you won't give me that smile of yours at the end of the day, the one that made me like you so much. That I'm too naive to think it will last . That I'm too pessimistic if think it won't.

 I am afraid that I will be less curious, to live for today. That I will be too alive to be contained in the expectations of tomorrow. That one day it will all make perfect sense. I 'm afraid that  I will use the word "perfect" in my writing, or in life in general.That I wont live between contrasts. That one day I will be balanced and content.

painting detail by Martine Johanna

A Daniel in Istanbul

“I think that we all must know a Daniel. Someone who aches to fill all of the deep spaces in their heart with good vibes, train tickets, and filthy hostel sheets. They live between points on the map, pocket pennies from odd jobs – teaching English in China, maybe, or shoveling dirt on a farm in Argentina – until they’ve hidden away enough to hop to another point, and another. But they’re always a strange mix of happy and unhappy; yearning and fulfilled; itching and running. As if their soul shattered at birth, and all the little fragments scattered about the corners of the globe.” Kristen Hedges

If you are a passionate globe trotter like me, you have probably cracked a wide smile while reading this. That was exactly my 1^st experience at World House Hostel in Istanbul, where I have met curious backpackers from the most unlikely places of the globe. In each one of them there was a “Daniel”, as contrasting, ancient and soulful as Istanbul itself. 

Each day, I would sit for breakfast by the window, watching travelers, shop keepers and cigarette smokers all march in a natural fashion, protesters too. I was once told by a random stranger to “Look at life in the face”. 

I woke up to the soul-piercing call of Adhan. I was baffled by the exuberant sunrise that welcomed

me into the mystique of an ordinary walk by the Bosphorus. I crossed the bridge to get a more picturesque grasp of the view; the buoyant image of the mosque, subtle charm of scattered ottoman buildings, and silvery seagulls hovering restlessly over the water.

It’s a rainy Sunday afternoon in Istanbul.  I run through the meandering lanes of the Spice Bazaar, seeking shelter. The smell, the soft tapping of the rain and humming sounds inside the bazaar as people halt their activities; all, made it a perfect Sunday afternoon.

After hours of walking in the bazaar, the bus took me through the sweeping water sceneries of Bebek neighborhood, only to find myself at a local fairy station in Karakoy. The Asian side was more than just a solace, whenever I wanted to escape the city’s frenetic pace. Alarmed by the sound of the engine, I followed the crowd of passengers as they rushed off the shore to the ferry.
 
The boat embarked, slowly leaving the shore and touristy area behind. You observe Galata tower as it shrinks little by little until drowning . You watch seagulls trying to keep up with the boat, in the foam and cold water. The fresh air awakens you senses and you get a little dreamy along the way. I felt my lungs inflate with the fresh scent of the ocean. I still remember how liberating it feels, just to be there on that specific time, in that peculiar space.

I could take a ferry everyday. Literally. The engine screams. The anchor kicks the bottom.. The humming of passengers takes over again in some resonant language, signaling the end of your dreamy voyage. Buildings start to vaguely appear. You are officially back to the modern world. 

I made my way through merchants and Simit sellers by the harbor. I sat in a café next an old German style Opera, where I could still see the floating shadows of Minarets in the water. Aoud melodies from the Opera were played, in some exquisite notes, as if probing the mysteries of your psyche like a detective. It has a strange sound, this instrument. It strikes your sorrow and lifts you up, gracefully.

I was caught in a protest in Istanbul. Although we were a couple of streets away, we couldn’t escape the effect of teargas. We were running and teargas kept spreading rapidly between tight streets and tall buildings. We kept running, having no clue which road led to which way. I was gasping for air and my eyes turned red. My allergy has worsened and I lost breath. I stopped. My friend handed me a small scarf to cover my mouth and nose. A group of people came running from the opposing street. There was no road left to go.

We thought it’s the end. One way there was tear gas and the other there was police with batons.  A squeaky door has opened. A tall bearded guy took us inside the shop. We were saved! We went to party in the same evening.

While I'm here in Tunis, I still feel that I am missing out another life, with every subtle detail. I miss that minutia of daily life, especially certain unique sounds; public transport, a woman in high heels in a feeble attempt to catch the ship and boats horn by the Bosphorus.

Sounds are such an interesting way to relate to a space, especially one with so much layers of history like Istanbul. It makes me want to listen to Arvo Part's Spiegel Im Spiegel and think -in black and white- about all these people from about a hundred years ago, who were in same ferry I took not so long ago. With some imagination, it struck me how these people are not so different from us. They are us, in a way. They are Humanity, just as much as we are now, and those who will follow us.

Aren't old-fashioned means -be it a ferry, an old train or a just a small package sent cross- culturally -  as fascinating as modern ones?  To me, they are. They add to Istanbul’s impalpable beauty and diversity, where the old and new interact in every facet of life.

At the end of the day, we are all a “Daniel”, travelers full of uncertainties, making our way through life but are not afraid to experiment. It’s all about that elusive state. Freedom.  But at the same time, we thrive to keep our leeching roots to the pulse of this next great thing to come.

Sometimes I just miss me, my thoughts, and what it is to be happy. This cup of black coffee, strangers I could have run into, places I could have been in now. But now I am here with the perfect kind of black. The smell, the freedom. I can be everywhere. I can be everybody.  

I stare into bottom of my cup. Black is never a sad color. Although it’s worn in funerals. In big ceremonies. I think people wear it to stand out. It shows a contrast against their skin. They want to be noticed but subtle. I hate this word, subtle. It’s delusional and charming. Maybe it’s why I’m always drawn into black. Maybe I should love white instead.

I could wear white. All white. It’s even a trend now. I could order a cup of hot white chocolate instead of coffee.  I could stare at the clouds. Weave weird new faces. Laugh at them and the way they surprise me. The shapes… I could handle the white page of my notebook I have to face every morning. Color it up with white words. Foamy and plain. But white scares me. It’s just very white. Black is purer. Black is more human.

I thought about the black and white pictures I used to admire. They are never black and white. They are grey.  Just different shades of grey. Exquisite and dreamy. It’s the way I remember every building. Every special face. The optimistic spice seller with  Mashmoom flower tucked to his right ear, the Madame in high heels in a feeble attempt to catch the train, high school couples. Clouds of smoke, the sound of coffee machines, my feminist grandmother. Grey faces. Grey buildings. Grey memories. Grey sounds. It’s a world of truth, here.

I love to write about it. It makes me want to listen to Phillip Glass. Draw my own world of glass. But I will always wonder about the next wild party. The new friends. I just love people as much as I love this. To write.

Star Wars in style

Hello Beautiful people,

So, as promised today will be featuring my friend Hend who was been helping out with photos lately. We have chosen this theme, as the Star Wars trend seems to be back in Tunis these days with the Happy from Teteouine video featuring Pharrell Williams. I know it's a bit overrated this" happy" thingy. Don't you think?  I never liked the song. I mean I guess it's an Ok beat. I just don't know why everybody is obsessed with it. I hope it's just a phase. 

 Ok, lets go back to the cool kids talk now, there was also a fundraising event in Tunis for a New Star Wars movie. A great opportunity to wear this Star Wars shirt, right? In this post, Hend will be showing you how to style this shirt and make it look edgy but at the same time casual.

Much love as always,

Oumayma 

 Outfit details:

Blazer:Thrifted

Shirt: Pull & Bears

Over-sized pants: Zara

Snearkers: New Balance

Bag:Thrifted

Necklace:Tally Weijil

Sunglasses: Police