Back to the future

I want you to think really hard at your latest crossroad, the last time you had to make a life changing decision, not knowing the outcome at the time.

Now it is done, I would like you to think about what you know today, about what time has told you, and I wish to ask you one question: Would you make the same choice?

Flying back to Egypt, last week, was like looking through a sepia filter, the same way as you gaze at old photographs and the way they tickle your senses. The colours, as you hover over Cairo, all blend into shades of sand. As much as one can romanticize, Cairo is not beautiful, it is hard to the eye of the foreigner and since nowadays, everything must be nice and pretty, it slaps you back across the face as its wind does during the sandstorm.

The risk, when returning to a place after having left it, is the mere realization that this place has moved on without you, its chaotic traffic is untouched, its welded wires are still sticking upright and the Earth kept revolving at a delightful chaotic rhythm, undisturbed by your departure.

The Gulf of Aqaba is always a soothing place. The Neptunian world is always seducing and the options are endless. This time, to my surprise, Petra became an opportunity. 

There is much to learn of the Nabataean people and their mastering of rock carving, as well as water system. In this humbling trek of many kilometers lay the remains, the iceberg of Petra.

Revealed again to the world recently by an eager archeologist, they say Petra is still uncovered up to 80 percent. 

The gate of Petra, Al Khazneh (the treasure) is as flabbergasting as the many tombs and caves that lead down to the Bedouin village, at its Southern tip. As you walk down the narrow passages, the Siq, carved by both ancient seas, marked and shaped by the colourful whip of the wind, this old artificial oasis comes to life and allows you, for a few seconds, to envision its busy past; first crowded by its builders, then taken by the Romans and finally the Bedouins.

Punctuated by the gate, the caves and amphitheater, you finally reach the final plain where your hike upward will be rewarded by the most colourful caves, the royal tombs, where the acoustic is as striking as its nuances, due to the concentration of both iron and granite trapped in the sandstone. You may meet Ahmed, a sweet little boy who lives nearby and strolls around Petra daily, smiling away.

It was a wonderful solitary trip, and despite the long journey (bus/ferry/boat – 6 hours), it is a decision I would make again, if I was asked.

Meeting students is also another way to replenish your heart in the fastest and strongest possible fashion. To have been blessed to teach young minds and have been allowed into their hearts is something to be grateful every moment, every day. Another decision to validate.

Meeting friends, or rather family, in Cairo is also a wonderful feeling, even though it implies the fatidic question: How’s Tunis/are you happy with your latest chosen turn in life?

It is a very interesting question, as if one could uproot deep links and simply replace them in another land. You hear yourself say that it is fine, implying it isn’t the same and then your mouth improvises for you, adding a few French notes to your unconscious melody, before you can even think of what your real answer is.

Then, you hear this thought, in the middle of a reunion with a friend dear to your heart, a deafening thought is crowding your mind: Would you change your mind about leaving, knowing what you know today?

It remains an unanswered question, dear friends.

Realistically, moving to a new place, especially when you carry more bags than your own, is a challenge. For the past decade, the roots have been moved about for the fourth times, sometimes uprooted, other times severed. Does it mean that they will never latch on again, or is it simply part of the expat game we all try to play at………

Time will tell, but the truth is that, in our nomadic Esto/Franco garden, the two most important flowers are happily and strongly blooming daily and the oaks, sheltering them, are also contently growing, which in fact means that, yes, we must all be happy here. 

Tunis, out.