suitcase skeletons

Im back in Dubai again for a short stay. Despite Dubai having no real attraction for me aside from the chance to be in my parent's company, this dusty land does have a few interesting memories. My first real "love", when I was here few years ago , is one of them. It was this Omani lad, a steward I met through a friend. Back then I was utterly transfixed by his grizzly stubble, cheeky grin and mischievous eyes. I was a total sucker for his charm haha. I completely forgot our age difference ( him being 7/8 years older ) and the fact that his line of work, being a steward, involved brushing shoulders with beautiful stewardesses. I was naive enough to think that we had, or I what I imagined we had was anything real or that he would actually be faithful to me, a lost googly-eyed, 17 year old in foreign country.

But I didn't care about all his shenanigans. I'd convince myself it wasn't his looks that I fell for. Because when you start to know someone, all their physical characteristics start to disappear. You begin to dwell in their energy, recognize the scent of their skin. You see only the essence of the person, not the shell. That’s why you can’t fall in love with beauty. You can lust after it, be infatuated by it, want to own it. You can love it with your eyes and your body but not your heart. And that’s why, when you really connect with a person’s inner self, any physical imperfections disappear, become irrelevant. I think this Omani guy and I shared such connections. Nonetheless, just as swiftly as our encounter happened, it wasn't long before I was back in Malaysia , a couple of months later, and he was nothing but a distant, albeit both bitter and sweet, memory.

You know what I both love and miss about this place is though? The sound of the azan! In KL, I feel its drowned out by our fast-paced life. Not to say Dubai isn't up there in the scale of modernity, but they have a firmer grip on their faith and the azan mirrors it.

From the balcony of my apartment, at dusk, I can hear the electronic crackle of wires being twisted together in the minaret of the mosque down the street, before the amplified wail of the azan implores the faithful to evening prayer. Across the city, muezzins' cries from half a dozen of other mosques flavour the darkening air with exhortations. I've been at a similar balcony before, the Omani guy's apartment, and have heard the texture of dusk in the middle east as part of an exotic soundtrack to my stay in Dubai. I love how the muezzin seemed to be speaking directly to me. Their ancient voices, tinged with centuries-old advocacy of faith and duty, sounded like calls to action.

I might be going to Oman for the weekend.Will blog about it if I do!

ps : part of the post is an exerpt of an email I wrote to someone I'm slightly crushing on. ( you know what that means guys ; me crushing incessantly, then totally realizing the whole crush/love mumbo jumbo is totally not my thing and I retrograde back into my jaded self )