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Arrival ...
The captain’s voice echoed across the “Airbus A320” declaring in Arabic and in English “Both with a Syrian accent” that we were about to crash and burn or hopefully land safely in the international airport of Marseille.
Perhaps I would have appreciated the joke if I weren’t in a worst-to-wear humor.
I pulled aside the curtains and pressed myself to the windows like a kid against the candy jam, as galaxies and stars were surrounding me like a corn field.
I looked down and I was about to cheat on the beauty of imperfection of Damascus upon witnessing the glorious shades of the marvelous big city lights, gradient of artificial beauty fading to be swallowed in the heart of the mighty sea.
The plane started to tilt and swivel to make me feel like I was “Heidi” on her mumbo-jumbo kite, with my puppy-like wide eyes were staring showing how “enchanté(d)” I was, but I reached out to pull myself back off the window to remind myself that cities always look more divine from above, just like how people look more humane from a distance.
The big metal ship touched the French soil then I was next, and I started walking through the terminal feeling harmless, floors and stairs were moving automatically underneath my feet carrying me to my destination, doors were opening dynamically for me, and people were smiling to me as if the whole city was welcoming me, swallowing me within, or at least this is how I wanted to think it were maybe to help me de-melanho-lize the moment.
It was 1:39AM
“Bonjour Monsieur” and “Au Revoir” were the only things I heard from the “personnel” at the airport who were not drinking “Matteh” or giving me the “7el 3an Rabby 3and Hal Masa” look.
I left the airport to be stroke by the witty wet taste of the sea carried by the “Venti”, and I took a deep breath swallowing the entire sea that was on the tips of my tongue, which for a moment (I swear) made me feel like I could taste the other end of the Mediterranean in Lattakia.
I rushed out to meet “Shafique” and “Abbas” who were the perfect sample of Arabs in France, the sample that makes you want not to meet more Arabs in Europe…
They took me to the place where I’m supposed to live for a while, and left me to sleep, while on the contrary I sat there terrified of surrendering my soul to sleep…
Perhaps I would have appreciated the joke if I weren’t in a worst-to-wear humor.
I pulled aside the curtains and pressed myself to the windows like a kid against the candy jam, as galaxies and stars were surrounding me like a corn field.
I looked down and I was about to cheat on the beauty of imperfection of Damascus upon witnessing the glorious shades of the marvelous big city lights, gradient of artificial beauty fading to be swallowed in the heart of the mighty sea.
The plane started to tilt and swivel to make me feel like I was “Heidi” on her mumbo-jumbo kite, with my puppy-like wide eyes were staring showing how “enchanté(d)” I was, but I reached out to pull myself back off the window to remind myself that cities always look more divine from above, just like how people look more humane from a distance.
The big metal ship touched the French soil then I was next, and I started walking through the terminal feeling harmless, floors and stairs were moving automatically underneath my feet carrying me to my destination, doors were opening dynamically for me, and people were smiling to me as if the whole city was welcoming me, swallowing me within, or at least this is how I wanted to think it were maybe to help me de-melanho-lize the moment.
It was 1:39AM
“Bonjour Monsieur” and “Au Revoir” were the only things I heard from the “personnel” at the airport who were not drinking “Matteh” or giving me the “7el 3an Rabby 3and Hal Masa” look.
I left the airport to be stroke by the witty wet taste of the sea carried by the “Venti”, and I took a deep breath swallowing the entire sea that was on the tips of my tongue, which for a moment (I swear) made me feel like I could taste the other end of the Mediterranean in Lattakia.
I rushed out to meet “Shafique” and “Abbas” who were the perfect sample of Arabs in France, the sample that makes you want not to meet more Arabs in Europe…
They took me to the place where I’m supposed to live for a while, and left me to sleep, while on the contrary I sat there terrified of surrendering my soul to sleep…
You're in France?! C'est cool!
The beginning of the road... actually that night I as well was terrified of surrendering my soul to sleep ..
Starting in a new place has always this bittersweet taste, on the one hand the opportunities that lay ahead, but on the other all the people and places left behind, it is a strange feeling...
@ Apples
Oui Mlle :)
C'est très cool :)
@Cute NK2
Sorry about terrifying your soul with mine my dear :)
@Muhannad
I'm tasting the bitter and awaiting for the sweet now buddy :)
You know quite well that noone is left behind ... those people are the origin and you always get back to them
until next year my friend :)
God bless ur every step dear!! n' btw *thumbs up* for the Notion!! FAZEEE3AAH!! :D
@ Sharks
hehehe
ba3d men ma 3endakom khanom :)
i hope this city and its sea that u're "swallowed" by will have the taste of honey and sweet life .. i think u r adjusting better day by day with this place wile time damas is missing u more and more :) "ziena"
@ Ziena
wallahi adjusting will take its time
and for the time being, I'm still missing Damascus more more and miss you guys most and most :D