52. Prophets and Losses

A caller woke me early this morning, asking where I was. I had no idea. Struggling from a difficult sleep as I was severely jetlagged, I tried to put my geographic pieces in place. Could I hear dogs barking? The rustle of oaks against my window? Smell smoke? No.  But tracks rattled. Five spires glowed in the pre-dawn, through  my curtains.  Then I remembered: Ah, Istanbul.  The muezzin began, calling to his cohorts across the city to join in, a religious round robin, whatever your beliefs. The haunting ancient calls, bouncing along rooftops, rousing people from their sleep, raises goosebumps.  I lay in my big soft bed, warm, smelling coffee brewing downstairs, thinking how lucky I am.

I've just had my Istanbul breakfast, of olives, goats cheese, yoghurt, cucumbers and grated cheese, on the tiled terrace that looks down to the ships on the Bosphorus. I've discovered that the best tea anywhere, is a cup of strong Turkish brew, with a bit of long life milk, sipped slowly and meditatively while overlooking the Marmara sea and the Blue Mosque, where trams clatter below and blossoms blow like snowflakes onto my rooftop.  And a long unplanned day ahead of me, surrounded by everything that will stimulate every one of my senses.  Alone? Of course! Lonely? Not At All.

I'm happy and blissed out.  My heart no longer hurts like I'd been stabbed through the ribs. I'm calm.  I'm patient.  I can sit for hours and just ... be.   I am no longer a human do-ing.  Everything will happen in its time.  I've stopped worrying about money, and direction.   My children's father told me a long time ago that all one needed in one's life is the ability to get out of a tricky situation if necessary - whether it's a busfare or plane ticket or night at a hostel.  I have that.  I've also made some very wise, educated - read museum quality - purchases which will (I entertain the hope) - buy me back my car.

Since I left in January:

I have lost -
1 hat
5 kilos
3 pairs of sunglasses
my haunted look
1 Primark jumper
Flab
My agoraphobia

Fear

I have found -
My photographic eye
Peace
Treasures
Amazing friendships
Smatterings of new languages
Myself, of course - but that's not first on the list!
Ways to eat cheaply
Cheap places to sleep but still keep my princess integrity
that I like coffee
that I still don't like meat or ice cream
Time to read
Confidence that I'm still okay
That 15kg is more than enough clothes to own at any time
That I can't do without industrial strength moisturiser, Argan oil shampoo, sunglasses, my passport, my phone, my mac, earrings.
That exfoliation is an extraordinary rejuvenator.
That my temper is the worst thing I can lose, anywhere, for whatever reason.

That it doesn't matter if I break a nail, or a lock, or a heel.  But it does if I break any sort of personal convenant.

What hurts:
My feet.  Oooh, my feet.  I'm still battling the friggin' diabetes as a result of the African virus, and oh, how my feet hurt, burn, swell, itch, twitch, ache.
Seeing women my age, in rags, begging in various cities.
Seeing donkeys in Morocco, dogs in Nepal, caged tortoises and birds, glue sniffing children and adolescents with babies.
My shoulders, sometimes.  My stomach, when my sugars are raging.
My bank "balance". But I don't care because -

What doesn't hurt:
What my mother did with G.
My heart.
All the rest of what led me to here.

It was going to be a sun and camera day, but guess what!!! Sun's gone! And so to chai with Besir in the Grand Bazaar, who will teach me more about Turkmenistan today. Today, I'm happy to admit I'm a gold digger!