Last
year around this time I wrote a blog post out of Meknes, Morocco expelling my
thoughts and impressions of Ramadan. At that time, I couldn't have guessed all
the love and joy and heartbreak I would experience over the next 12 months. It
turned out to be the best year of my life, so far. Anyway, Ramadan. An
eternally receding 30 days out of the year where I usually find myself treading
between a nostalgic embrace of my Arab-ness and a feeling of guilt for
betraying my heritage (half of it, anyway). You see, this is the only time of
year when I feel a little bit bad for being such an infidel. So I make myself
feel better by fasting a little, reengaging what's left of my spirituality,
reorienting and refreshing my outlook on religiosity, and exercising minimal
discipline in a life where I can essentially get anything I want.
This
year, the holiest of months kicked off in an interesting way. Today is the 4th
day, but it's the first day I'm actually fasting. That's because I took a trip
to El-Fayoum, a region south of Cairo famous for its oases and ancient ruins
from the old pharaohnic kingdom. A couple friends and I took a train to
Cairo, a subway to Giza, fought with a couple bus drivers, then found a
microbus to take us to a small town on a large lake called "Azbat
Tunis". A village used to tourism because of it's rich pottery culture,
but is still a very well kept secret in Egypt. You'd be hard pressed to find
Egyptians that know about this town. In fact, I think more Italians know about
it than Egyptians. Despite it's reputation as a hotspot for keen eco-tourists,
because of Ramadan and post-revolution lack of tourism, we were the only people
that were walking around the beautiful town. The calm haze of summer Ramadan
permeates the dusty streets. We stayed in a really awesome eco-lodge, ate like
kings, smoked hookah, drank jack daniels, got to know each other a little more,
drove out to the desert and saw 40 million year old whale fossils and
waterfalls, got weird at the top of a 4000 year old pyramid. All this for about
80 dollars a person...all of it. It was literally one of the best weekends of
my life.
Now
I'm back in Alexandria. I'm currently sitting in my prison-cell like bedroom,
my good friend is sitting next to me studying vocabulary in preparation for
class tomorrow (we'll be talking about futures studies in the Arab world,
interestingly enough), I can hear the sound of cats in heat outside. The wet
Mediterranean air feels nice, but is disagreeing with my sinuses a bit, and is
nothing compared to the wonderful dry heat of the desert. And whether it's a
self-fulfilling prophecy or not, shout out to Richard Scofield Fischer III,
fasting all day has cooled my temperament and sharpened my thoughts. I can
feel the weight of the next 10 months setting in more and more every day. A
deep sadness has also been slowly sinking down into my chest and stomach over
the past 2 months, though it isn't a feeling that I'm ashamed of. It's a
productive discomfort. I read an article today about Michael Angelakos, the guy
behind Passion Pit, and he said something a line it it that made me stop and
think.
"Dissatisfaction
and creation are inextricably linked, so you cannot be satisfied"
I do
agree with that sentiment. I think that people can be creative and
simultaneously happy, but I also know that any time I’ve created something that
I was halfway proud of it came out of some sort of discomfort. Whether it be a
simple every day insecurity (I have a couple of those) or a full-fledged
emotional breakdown, it’s always been something that made me uneasy that made
me want to create. Well, I have plenty of discomforts here to keep my busy. Not
eating is an obvious one. And after a four-day weekend getting back into the
swing of things in an intensive program isn’t so easy, especially when you
spend most of your time watching tv/writing a blog post. In addition, coming
off a cheap and stress free vacation and being thrown back into a world of
stresses and responsibilities can make you feel like you’re right back at the
starting point. Like you haven’t worked out the kinks in your life that are
really dragging you down. I’ll have to take solace in the knowledge that I am,
in fact, working them out. Slowly untangling and untwisting them back to
normal. You know, I remember singing along to this song last year right before
I went to Morocco. It goes:
“I cannot wait for summer, I
cannot wait for June. When all the ghosts are quiet, when everything is new.”
Well
June came and went last year, and this year it came and went again. I still
find my self, in the aftermath of June 2012, lamenting. Singing and praying for
June 2013 to arrive. For the ghosts to quiet down, for new things to come. Like
I said, the last 12 months was the best year of my life. Here’s to the next
one, which I hope will live up to that standard. It has all the right ingredients;
I suppose it’s just up to me now.
All my love,
Tarek
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