nothing for mahala
16 June 2012 | lobby lounge restaurant
She
Joey always says to me, missus, nothing for mahala!! And I always answer, ja Jo, jy's reg. But I never thought overly deeply, about what she was saying, and about what I was saying. I have tonight though. Pat had to fly from NYC this afternoon, to a site meeting in Houston and returns on Monday evening. So, I'm alone, in this stunning hotel, with lots of time to think. I'm sitting next to the window, on the 35th floor, of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, sipping a glass of Sancerre, as I type this. The view over Central Park is beautiful. The sun is setting slowly and turning these skyscrapers into all sorts of shades of copper and gold. They are gigantic. And innumerable. Housing probably ten million people. All around me, signs flash. Nails!! 24/7. Massage!! 24/7. Pharmacy 24/7. Supermarket 24/7. Diner!! 24/7. Almost whatever I can think of, is here, and available, nonstop. Within my block, I have basically, an entire village. Cobbler, laundry, dry cleaner, hairdresser etc. So, although NY is huge, one can exist easily within your block. And everything is easy and accessible. Unlike the south of France. There, almost everything is a struggle. People work from 9am to 12. Close for lunch and re-open at three or four, only to close at five or six again. Nothing is terribly easy. Or available. And when it is, you are often told Non!! Without any good reason. Because they CAN say "non". But life there, is slow, savoured and good. Quiet. Except for the regular church bells, ringing out the times of day and night. And the little children, breaking for lunch at eleven thirty, shouting out to each other, bon appetit, Paul!!!!!!! Bon appetit Mayliss!!!! Here, people eat on the run, alone, quickly, almost as an aside. In France, life revolves around the meal time. The baking of the baguette. You do your own nails unless you're prepared to pay a high price. Your own washing, drying, cooking, cleaning etc. But, not a day goes by, without a neighbour or somebody caring and sharing. A freshly picked lettuce. Just dug potatoes. Warm apricots. I see many lonely faces here. I feel many disturbed energies here. There too, I guess. Just not so obvious. I sit and wonder, if I ever had the choice, where I would choose to live? If I could choose to live anywhere in the world.....where would I choose to live? The only answer I can come up with tonight, is...where the heart is!! And my heart is firmly buried in Pats pocket, so...if you could choose, where would you choose? Just remember Jo's wise words. Nothing for mahala. Each place has a price to pay.. A la prochaine Xx