Saturday, February 27, 2010

far from home

there's a newish market in madrid, they have little stands that sell lots of goodies to eat. one is a little french company, too bad i can't remember the name, which sells oysters. there we stood, my friend s. and i, wondering which oysters to select. you see i know very little about oysters, but i love 'em. i love the taste of the sea that i get from them. i asked the young man behind the counter which one's would he recommend. i always like to ask for recommendations from the people who work in a place, because they know. he explains the various tastes of the different oysters to me (i should have written down what i learned, but i didn't, and now i've forgotten) and i chose according to my taste.

i do realise oysters are not for everyone. but strangely i like them, and these were delicious. it's a glass refrigerated case-full of ice and oysters, french white wine, a friendly guy with standing behind a small glass counter, not much more, still plenty. while my friend and i savored the flavors of the sea our friend behind the counter poured us little cool glasses of white wine. he was cute. i asked him where he was from. with hesitation and the biggest smile he shared that he was from morocco.

intently he asks me, 'have i ever been?'

'no i haven't,' i say.

'you should, you will love it,' is his suggestion.

point is, the oysters and cool white wine were so deliciously served by this friendly young man that i returned about two weeks later with another friend. i've mentioned to you that i can be shy until i can warm to you and then you can't shut me up.

when i returned to this little french stand in madrid with my other friend i wanted her to taste their goodies and to see this lovely young man. it's just that i enjoyed his passion for what he was serving as well as the tiny bit he shared about his country.

my friend like the oysters and white wine too. i kind of stood on the side and let her enjoy. the guy who works there looked at me standing over to the side from the corner of his eye, and said to me

'you have come back?'

i smiled, 'you remember me,' i say.

'of course,' he answers back.

in this moment my friend asks him where in morocco he is from. he tells her. it's all greek to me, i know nothing about morocco. and the two of them take off, for she is familiar with places and spaces in morocco. they go on about his town, which to his surprise she has been to, along with some other favorite destinations that they share. they speak of festivals, and family and friends. and he almost sings about how he misses he country and longs to be there.

i stayed on the side finding deep pleasure in my oysters, white wine, friends connecting and sharing a love for a place that at that moment seemed so far away. still in a time and in a moment we feel less alone in the company of one another, a sweet company shared...

it's late on this side. i'm tired, went to dinner and a movie tonight. i should sleep now, and i will. just that i wanted to write a wee bit as writing eases my heart. so if this story is full of mistakes or is utterly uninteresting, do forgive me. i'm drunk with sleep and i simply can't tell.

ok, off to sleep now... i hope you are well... and have a lovely sunday...


Angie Muresan said...

Always love your stories, Audrey. Always. Morocco is a special place and one day you will go there. As is Madrid. How beautiful that you lived there.

Susu Paris Chic said...

How beautiful a way to drift off to lala-land after a nice, enchanted evening out by writing your heart out a bit. Who'd care about mistakes.

Life is not perfect, and yet it is. Like those oyster moments. People connecting. In the lovely hazardousness of life.

I love savoring the little drops of your life that you share here. Never would I intrude. I'm just breathing in refreshing l'air du temps for a passing moment, being contented to see that you trust us with your precious thoughts.

La Belette Rouge said...

I love oysters. I love them especially with champagne. I love eating them with friends or in foreign locations. There is something especially decadent about them.

I have been to Morocco. But I have never been to Madrid. I hope you get to Morocco and I get to Madrid.