The Hiker Dude

I want to make this a modern fairytale, but I can’t. Because it’s not. Because it won’t be. But because I believe in the magic of words, I will retain them in here and hope the readers who have been asking for a drop of something positive will enjoy.

Just for the spirit of enchantment, I will begin this with a once upon a time…

Once upon a time, I met a guy. We will call him the Hiker. Or the Hiker Dude. Yeah, the Hiker Dude sounds much better. When I first looked at him, I was lying down. But in the blink of an eye, I felt elated. It wasn’t his dreamy blue eyes, but his dreamy words that transported me to some sort of cloud. Anyone who knows me, or has ever read me, knows I have a special relationship with words (alas not tonight though, I am here typing because I can’t concentrate on a book I’ve been wanting to read for 10 years and finally found, so don’t expect any poetic sentences from the tips of these fingers tonight, but do keep yourself ready for some of the Hiker Dude’s magic nonetheless). His words opened the door to some much needed daydreaming, at night. He didn’t even have to make an effort, his words just flowed out of him, and he struck me as oblivious to his own powers. He probably isn’t, but he was humble about it in any case. All he did was tell me a bit about him. The more I asked, the more answers he provided, and I felt I could keep on asking forever. I felt as if my thirst could not be quenched, but I had to stop at some point and get back down to my terrestrial couch, sadly enough. 

A sentence here and a detail there. A fact here and a joke there. And a mighty, graceful stitch between all those elements was all it took to bewitch me. He didn’t say much, but at the end he didn’t have to. He didn’t try hard, and he didn’t have to either. There was subtlety, agility and elegance to all his descriptions. And that helped engrave his words in my memory somehow. The following may not be a completely accurate account of his portrayals, chronologically speaking or vocabulary wise, but it’s the best my brain can come up with on memory. I am going to be as loyal as humanly possible to his discourse, and I hope you will enjoy it…The Hiker’s words: 

“Let's see here, I currently live on the Hawaiian island of Kauai but am moving much closer to you, to where we are right now, soon… I am looking for awesomeness… I travel often, hike, camp, backpack, and go on all kinds of adventures... I am the oldest of 5 and I am very tight with my siblings… I work hard. I play hard. Sometimes I don't play hard if I find a great show to marathon on Netflix… I hold great value in the connections with my close friends… I like to play scrabble and am largely undefeated… I build things; it's very gratifying. I can fix anything. If I cannot fix it then I will destroy any evidence that I ever tried to… I will hold the door open… I love dogs. I love cats if they behave like dogs. I wish I were half the man my dogs think I am...Mountains and water are a primal requirement to live near. That last sentence did not begin with "I"… I just made a couch that has been nicknamed the "comacouch"...I'm addicted to frequent flier miles. I like to make up stories about people I watch at the airport. I tinker... French press coffee is my favorite... My favorite color is green and it has nothing to do with pot or money… I am protective over my favorite spoon. I used to be a vegan who loved meat... I maintain eye contact. I listen. I plan on being spontaneous and sometimes spontaneously plan... I do my own taxes and wonder why… I am on a first name basis with REI… My favorite wine comes from New Zealand... I am the opposite of clumsy. I stay up late and get up early… I know a lot of really bad and offensive jokes… CAKE wrote a song about my dream woman... Yard sales and treasure hunting are oodles of fun... I use a check register... I have a face. I love life and all the challenges it presents to let me experience the full spectrum of it... I look forward to meeting someone who is down to Earth but can go to outer space as well. I am wanting to find the woman to spend every day with and have some little ones and dogs.”

Is it just me or do those bits and pieces sewn together make him perfect? And for those of you who are wondering, I concur, he does have a face indeed. Not that I am incapable of imagining such a dreamy character on my own, but aside from the words, I’d probably mess it up, and he most definitely won’t be a hiker. He’s real though, too real if you ask me. 

And just when I thought he couldn’t be any more perfect, he took a piercing, immaculate look at me, and then proceeded to satisfy his own curiosity with a bunch of silly little questions. No more than 5 minutes later, he took out his notebook, and he wrote an impressive introduction about me, one that my oldest friends probably, no definitely, couldn’t come up with if they tried. The following is a very accurate copy of what the Hiker scribbled down that night about me, someone he had barely just met. It looks like a newspaper ad or maybe an out of this world CV intro. I love it. I will cherish that entry forever.

“My name is Mimi and it is a nickname for… Why you would just have to find that out won't you!... I love to read and am quite the bookworm… As an Aquarius I have a thirst for knowledge as well as a thirst to know why I have a thirst for knowledge...  I also possess some very powerful eyes. If I meet you in person I will be able to see your soul on the edges of them.  If you are not worthy then you will turn to stone but if you are, then you will melt into a puddle of joy… I work in a cutthroat industry but I like to leave my work at work and be more of myself when I'm at home. Sometimes that is difficult to do so I write a blog which helps ease the tension between my two worlds... I like big sunglasses, big earrings, and red.  I like red because it is the color of passion and I am in fact a passionate person…  I have a need for dynamic conversation and witty stimuli. If anyone has ever called you a dialtone, then please keep moving along...I work very hard and I like what I do… I also like to play hard to offset my career challenges. I have a primal need to be compelled….so compel me!”

Do not ask me where all this is coming from. Do not ask me who the Hiker Dude is. Do not ask me anything in fact. Just read those entries, appreciate them; appreciate one man’s talent and one woman’s inspiration. Leave it all behind you. Get over it. Get over it just like I am. Hold on to the fleeting optimism in those sentences. Preserve the memory of those blue eyes you have never seen but you’ve so often imagined while reading their creations. Don’t take any of it to the next level, for the next level simply does not exist. Be grateful you’ve reached the cloud, stop aiming for the outer space, at least for tonight, in respect of those of us who are disillusioned and don’t dare expect anymore. Sadly so, but rightfully so. Good night.

Paris Paris!

It has been months since my trip to Paris, but I’ve been so taken with my move to the US that I never really had the time or the inspiration to give that beautiful city its right in my blog.

I was there to witness the celebrations on the National Day Commemoration at the Champs de Mars, I melted in the crowds in front of a fully lit Eiffel Tower, and then I went to meet my friends on what I will dub a pub trottoir in Montparnasse. While waiting there sipping blond beer and begging the waiter for more water, I took endless notes on my Paris experience, but alas, perfume spilled over the notebook in my purse and they are now lost in a multicolor aquarelle, but the memory remains. The details are awfully stained, but the big picture stands still in my head as I recall my long walks and my countless metro rides. 

My first surprise in Paris was to see people drinking more beer than wine. Could have been the summertime effect. In any case, I had no problem with that at all, because try as might, I still hate wine, and I will take beer over it anytime. And sure enough I tried wine again there for like the umpteenth time, but my answer is still no, my taste buds just reject it, even in Paris!

Paris for me was a parade of hunchbacked elders, warm suburban people and tourist processions. It was a carnival of the cutest little flowery balconies and the greenest boulevards I ever came to see. The wow effect was omnipresent throughout all the complicated trajectories I had to take, be it at something as monumental as the spectacular museums and churches, or while digging for little treasures at the Vanves flee market.

I stayed in Paris for a total of 11 days at my best friend’s apartment. I really couldn’t have asked for a more welcoming couple than her and her husband. They both made my trip a memorable one in all aspects, and I am forever grateful for having hearts big enough to share the sweetest little place in the whole of France with me. The apartment overlooked a huge breathtaking park that housed two schools and sunbathers at the same time. It was just beautiful!

Before I continue, let me get this out of my system: I was so unbelievably disappointed with the Eiffel Tower. For me, it was just a bunch of rusting metal that isn’t even that big. I know all the historical importance of the tour and everything, still, I wasn’t impressed, and I didn’t even bother waiting in that impossible queue to go up there. Otherwise, Paris was awesome!

Awesome for its magnificent architecture, minus Tour Eiffel. Awesome for the live music blasting in metro stations and on the sidewalks. For the familiar smell of fresh bread out of the countless boulangeries. For all the art pinning the walls and bridges surrounding the whole river Seine scene. For the bicycles on every corner and in every street. For high schools bathing in greenery and the newspaper stands wherever you walk. And most of all, for Montmartre and Place Pigalle.

Paris reeks of history, of marble statues and of chemically challenged monuments. I was shocked to find out on my first day that during summer, this city’s days become so long, but I learned soon enough to turn that fact to my advantage. I also learned that one euro practically has no value in Paris and that Charles de Gaulle airport seriously needs a better service department. I roamed Paris like a labyrinth, stopping by for meals of crepes and gauffre in colorful kiosks and never learning how to mask my stupid smile every time I saw a Lebanese restaurant.

Paris is the land of unisex hair salons and obnoxiously old, decaying nail polish on dirty fingers. It is the land of misplaced, odd McDonalds and problematic parking system. But it’s also the land of pedestrians, of respected disabled people, and of the Quartier Latin, housing the most inspiring bookstores and music libraries.

I fell in love with the little stores crammed in the metro, with the Moroccan corner stores and with the diversity Paris can offer you. I quickly realized how easier it was to negotiate with immigrants, especially when it came to ridiculously overpriced souvenirs.

Paris wasn’t as romantic as I had expected, but it made up for it with its Pont des Arts, with those beautiful engraved locks and with the Chinese couple taking their wedding photos at the Trocadero.  

I must admit I was baffled with the pubs and restaurants’ systems, which I would describe as bizarre at best, but it is part of what makes Paris interesting, of what makes me believe I would never be bored if I were to live there. I would still argue again again for my right to hold my drink in hand while walking inside a restaurant, I mean what kind of rule is that??

Paris in brief is the taste of the traditional versus that of the exaggerated. That sentence would sound a lot better in French, le gout du traditionel et celui de l’exagere, but it’s an English blog, and for that I am currently sorry.

If you are ever in Paris, you must pay attention not get robbed, pickpocketing is huge in the metro, and you also shouldn’t expect to hear Edith Piaff’s voice anywhere. Contrary to my logical prospects, the national events along with the pubs and clubs would only offer you English tunes for some reason.

Public cleanliness was a bit of an issue for me, I mean I never knew that I would ever see anything such as dry shampoo until I browsed Parisian supermarket shelves. I would also advise you against using museum bathrooms even if it puts you at risk of peeing your pants in the Louvres. Trust me when I tell you that it will feel less disgusting than using those restrooms.

I don’t wish to end this article on such revolting notes, which is why I will revert to the subject of friends. Once again I would like to extend my endless gratefulness towards the couple who was gracious enough to host me, and to all the lovely friends I was fortunate enough to make during my memorable trip!

To Paris, until we meet again…

Wanderings

I opened my eyes and for the very first time, I truly understood the essence of magic. For the very first time, I felt bewildered, swept off to a land far, far away. I felt submerged in rivers of honey. My hair soaked with heavy drops of sweet cocoa and my nostrils widened to the smell of exotic flowers, of raw nature and of weightless air.

Golden shades flickered all around and bright glittering sparkles surrounded me. I swam effortlessly in the thin air and flew between tall flamboyant trees in search of nothing.

I encountered many faces I never knew and few that have forever been encrusted in my memory, since the beginning of time, since the shaping of nothing, since the molding of emptiness, of frugality, of thoughtlessness.

In the light of shimmering, void stars, I instinctively drew my way. I used imaginary silky brushes and satiny wonderful palettes of colors never discovered.

Unripe, beautiful fruits fell off barren trees and gathered around me, pinning me down to rest with their ever so soft stems. Beds of feathery flowers welcomed me in the comfort of their illusion and the sweet breeze whispered lies of no language into my ears.

My eyes thrived to open up, to succumb to the magic, to see the wonders all around, to swallow the sweetness of dreams and the end of what was never there, what was never here, what will never be.

Tremendous was the word that kept occurring to the safety of what was left of my shaky, shady consciousness. Ts and Rs and S's kept rolling on my heavy tongue until the vowels left me and joined the shiny birds chirping over me.

I heard a sound so peculiar, so sincere. I strove to retain it, but the birdlike creatures kept hovering over it, collecting the vowels and stealing the truth.

I closed my eyes again and concentrated on the only glimpse of the already thrifty image I had of you. I concentrated, I focused so hard, but that ferociously friendly wolf that brought me here kept draining you away. It kept digging into my soul, into the roots of my evil, into the very branches of my existence. He dug sweetly, yet fully. He enchanted me with more glitter, with more tall trees, with more honey, until I felt one with the flowing stream, until I took the rising trunks as my shelter and collected sparkles in the hems of my imaginary dress.

My hands surrendered and stopped chasing volatile vowels as Bs and Rs and Ls voluntarily left me while my heavy breath tried to say bring me back, leave me alone.

My unconscious now belongs to a beautiful wolf, living against all odds in the driest of deserts, only drinking honey from the rivers of my imagination. This is how it tastes to succumb to the sweetest yielding, to the magic of the best charlatans and to the will of the way, leading to nothing.