Girl, Disrupted

I was glad to see that my favorite spot at the terrace wasn’t occupied; a little round table with two seats, adjacent to the Amstel River.  Sometimes I try to wake up as early as possible just to go enjoy a bit of solitude at the hotel restaurant downstairs before any of my sisters woke up. Because as soon as they wake up they immediately want to embark on a rather long touristy day – dragging me with them obviously.

So on that terrace, I like to take a pause from life; sit in my own bubble and completely let go of the baggage I carry around. It restores my peace and balance and almost elevates me into a state of clarity. The cloudy skies, cold breeze, strange faces and unfamiliar scenery set the perfect atmosphere to detach yourself from who you think you are and allows you to see deeper inside your consciousness.

I also use that time to stimulate my creativity. I take my laptop or notebook and try to .. well, just create. And that day, it was exactly what I was doing. Laptop in front of me, beautiful scenery in the background and I was in my own world.

Now picture that serenity – me creating, birds chirping, ducks quacking, plates and spoons cling-clanging, the smell of rain mixing with coffee and me absorbed in a faraway place from everything that is fake, materialistic and annoying – and then imagine your typical khaleeji guy in vacation attire entering that picture. Yikes!

Every cell in my body clenched as my tranquility deserted me. He was a big guy – let me remind you again – in his khaleeji vacation attire; so his idea of “blending in” was three quarter pants (which I personally believe to be one of fashions biggest mistake for men and its almost rare that a guy can pull it off) paired with a t-shirt that brought attention to all the wrong curves, and of course unnecessarily accessorized with brands; for men that meant the Gucci set: wallet, belt and cap – as if wearing one of those items alone wasn’t bad enough.

One look at him and I had to suppress my gag reflex. He was a sleazy looking guy. And that wasn’t because of his short curly hair that was drenched in gel (either giving the illusion of bald spots or accentuating their existence). I knew instantly he was on a hunting spree; scavenging for a khaleeji girl to start a summer fling with. I held in my breath and prayed he wouldn’t approach me.

My prayers weren’t answered.

Him: law sama7ti…

Me: na3am

Him: shlonech

Me: …

Him: enti ga3da testa5dmain el internet??

Me: haih

Him: 3ajeeb! Shlon ??

Me: wireless..

Him: 9dj??? Ya3ni bdon wyrat???? 3ajeeb..

Me:….

Maybe you had to be there to get it. But the guy was making a fool of himself and I was feeling embarrassed on his behalf. Was this his idea of starting a conversation?

Let me tell you about Arabs. It might sound stereotypical but hey I’m an Arab and I think I’m allowed to criticize my own herd. Arabs are a trendy bunch. And when old trends die, they create new ones.  For some time now we have seen an evolution of cloned trends gone bad. Today the infamous trend isn’t about abaya’s tucked in skinny jeans, or the one hair color which, defying the science of beauty, apparently suits all. For the past several seasons, it is traveling that’s in style. They flock from across the globe to the same cities to hang out at the same streets and sit at the same cafes and show off the same possessions. The newly rich are there for obvious gloating reasons. I travel for exactly the opposite reasons. I was on that terrace to forget the khaleeji materialism and to avoid cheap ways of picking up girls. They believe they can get away with that behavior simply because we entered a different area code, and therefore all is allowed.