Kamil goes to Morocco - part deux

le 28 juin 2009

Right now, I am sitting at the Brussels airport (the shitty Charleroi, unfortunately) and waiting for my plane to Casablanca, Morocco where on Monday, I will start a new job and a new chapter of my life.

Le Maroc - part deux.

If you have not heard any updates from me you must be really surprised now. You would probably expect me to still be in Brussels, working, partying and living there. Airports became my home - that is the truth. I was traveling a lot in order to get outside of Belgium as often as possible. You should not be confused because of reading I am at the airport. But this time you might be confused. You actually should be. You must be. I am. A few weeks ago, I would not have believed if you had told me I would be coming back to the Kingdom. Especially within such a short notice.

So listen to what happened to me.

It has been a while since I last fed you with any news. Less than two months but way too much for one person to handle within such a short period of one's life. It was both positive and negative. To summarize the two aspects - it was very intense.

First of all, in the last week of May, my employer decided not to prolong my contract after my internship. I was kind of happy to hear that actually. I did not want to take that job for another year(s) and for sure I did not desire to continue living in Belgium - a very weird country placed in the heart of Europe. On the other hand, the job was socially perceived as stable, predictable and comfortable. A job not to put away because in the long term it will allow you to have a settled life. A job you do not need to like for its content but rather for all the financial and material aspects it provides you with. Saying 'no' and quitting would be a difficult decision. 'Will I regret it? Will I want to be back, have a decent salary and all the social benefits? Won't it be too late?' I was confused and freaked out about the idea of having to choose between staying with the boring and predictable company or going for something that I would like more but also that would be more exciting, unpredictable and dangerous. Luckily for me, someone else made the decision. I was not given the choice - and even though their decision frightened me, I was relieved.

A few days later, I went on my planned trip to the Kingdom. Back then, I was not anticipating to return there. I booked it more than three months before and it was just a five-day trip to see the people and places I had been missing. I forgot how intense Morocco can be anytime you interact with the country. It was when I was there that my relationship finished and I had to abandon my plans to move somewhere else. Less than a week after losing my job in Belgium (or rather not being given the extension of my contract), I lost my relationship. In a way, it spoiled my trip. But the atmosphere and my friends in the Kingdom made it much easier for me to deal with it. My relationship ended in the same place (even in the same neighborhood) where it started one year before.

At the same time, I decided that it was probably a sign that things had ended that way. I realized that it could be an opportunity to move back to the Kingdom. A friend of mine told me about a European company opening up in Morocco. I got the contact and a recommendation and a few days later, I had an interview in Brussels. I was invited for a dinner that lasted so long that I managed to get drunk with the served alcohols (champagne and red wine) and still get sober after a while. A few days after the interview I was asked to complete an application form and another few days later, I was invited for a second meeting. Having discussed all the details, financial conditions and work aspects I decided to take the opportunity I had been offered. 'Book the ticket for the coming weekend' said my new boss to me last Tuesday. So on the night from Tuesday to Wednesday (from the 23rd to 24th of June) I booked the ticket from Brussels to Casablanca. To make it more meaningful and dramatic, let me gently remind that on that day exactly year ago, I left Morocco. How could I ever dare to expect that a year later, on the exact same day, I will purchase a one-way ticket back to Morocco. I guess that was the best way I could celebrate the first anniversary of my departure.

So right now, when I am writing this, I am still sitting on a chair at the airport of Brussels-Charleroi in Belgium, waiting for my flight to Casablanca, Morocco. I am sad to be leaving my friends in Brussels and I feel bad about seeing my relationship did not make it successfully. I am afraid of the new job and returning to Morocco where things could be different than before. However, for the moment I think this is the right place and the right job. I think it is Morocco where I will be the happiest. I do think it is my job that will be very exciting and it is a right thing for me to start. Within a few past weeks, many doors closed for me. But many opened at the same time.

Although very scared and stressed, I am doing the right thing.

All in all, I will live in Rabat again. Isn't this unbelievable?

God is a DJ

I do not entirely understand why it happens like this but it is the fact and the statistics prove it too. If you count all the great parties I have been to during the last few months there will be a disturbingly high percentage of parties in Brussels. Scarily high comparing with partying outside of Brussels or Belgium.

This implies that parties here must be cool. I have to admit that. Many of them are.

On the last weekend of April, I got invited to a birthday party of a new friend. She is British and works in a language school, she is super cool and is a nice escape from the corporate/eurocrat crowd of Brussels. She has got most of the characteristics of a person I usually connect quickly and easily: she's smart, liberal, funny, intelligent, a bit cynical, has extensive international experience and loves partying. A perfect match.

So on last Saturday of April, another good Polish-Bruxelloise friend of mine and I found ourselves at her birthday party. She had gathered a very tasteful and interesting mix of people: a theologist, a bisexual girl from Scandinavia being an au-pair in Brussels and another au-pair from the US currently living in Brussels whose mother turned out to be lesbian and having divorced her husband found a girlfriend and started living with her. Some other cool personalities included a big crowd of random but funny Polish people. Plus all the characteristics I have mentioned above that always attract me to newly met people. The red wine as usual was a profound support of deep conversations and silly laughter. 

Around 11 PM it was time to hit another place - a party in the church. But some obstacles in the meantime prevented us from reaching the shrine on time. Having drunk too much wine (and not thinking of stopping it) I was enlightened enough to decide not to drive the car myself. I then asked a sober girl from the party to do it for me. She agreed and soon we all found ourselves in my car driving towards the centre where the church party had surely taken off. But the devil was not on our side. On a very sharp turn the satan suggested me sipping some more of the red wine. I followed his idea and unfortunately spilled quite a lot of the good old red on my lovely black and white sweater. The pure whiteness of my snow-white stripes of that piece of clothing was damaged by the bloody redness of the wine.

'Shit' I said to myself. 

'Shit' I repeated. 

'We're changing the direction!' I shouted and everyone looked at me. 'We're going home now' I continued. 'I need to wash off the stain'.

No one objected. I bet no one dared. After reaching home, I threw away the empty cup of wine and headed towards the door. I rushed in and went straight to my room. Still being drunk I took off the sweater, dropped it on the table and poured some anti-stain liquid. Then I put some salt on it and then placed it in the laundry machine.

'It's in God's hands now' I thought to myself 'and I will have to pray in the church so that it disappears'.

I rushed off my room and told everyone to leave for the party. A few minutes later, we were at the door of the church of Gesù in Brussels. Unfortunately, the door was blocked by an incredible long line of people. Pretending to have some friends in the line I started waving to some random strangers trying to make everyone believe they were my friends. That way, we managed to end up in the line being only a few minutes from the entrance. I do not know until now how that happened. I am normally a very obedient and good boy (too good?) who always waits in queues for his turn, who always pays the expected amount, never bargains or argues. That night I was very rebellious and it is only the universe that might have the answer.

After a few minutes, we entered. It was startling. The huge interior of the shrine was packed with people. The soaring arches of the pillars were finishing in the ceiling and were highlighted by the red, blue, yellow (and who knows what other colors) lights of the bunches of reflectors all over the place. The sounds of the music were gently blurred by the sizes and the cubature of the nave. The high altar was replaced with the DJ. There was much wider choice of the different alcohols than only the communion wine. Listening to confessions of all the sinners were highly acceptable and appropriate. And finally everyone had the possibility of doing the two at one time: having a party and a morning Sunday service (a perfect two in one). The place was awesome and the party was ultimately fabulous. We finished it around 4 or 5 AM and headed home. Then a nice brunch in the morning with a good friend.

A perfect weekend. And it included going to the church.

Amen.

the brighter side of life

Even though, I am very neurotic and often cannot really appreciate some aspects of my life, there is unquestionably a lot of good things and it has to be made clear.

Despite the fact that Brussels is not the most exciting city in Europe it is definitely very international and if you really struggle hard enough you will manage to find great places and people who will make your time spent there amazing. It works well for me.

Secondly, I have quite a lot of free time after work. My job (so far) does not require me work overtime and my studies are not very time consuming either. Sometimes, it is not a blessing to have to much time but I try to use it as effectively as possible. I manage to travel a lot - within the last month, I went to Geneva, Annecy (a small French town close to Geneve), Paris, Trier (Germany), Vienna or Venice. Having friends in some of these places or wonderful community of Couch Surfing make my experience unbelievable.

I earn enough to live, travel and have a nice lifestyle. It is the first time in my life that I have a decent salary and that I can actually save some money. Moreover, I have all the boring and sometimes scary or overwhelming things in my life like social insurance, retirement plan even though they are probably necessary.

So why am I still unhappy?

une nuit dans la boîte de nuit

There are sometimes (often or maybe even very often?) days when we cannot really recognize ourselves. The times when we look at each other and think 'I would never think that I would do this' or 'I would never expect that I would enjoy that'. Are they the signs of permanent changes that we become part of? Or maybe rather a small trigger to carry us away from our common ourselves?

Whichever of the aforementioned it was, it happened to me last night.

Around 8 PM, I got a message from a friend of mine who invited me to a party at a fancy night club - Mirano - a place to be where a theme night called 'Folie Burgeois' was about to take place as it does once every month. Usually refusing to go to that kind of places, I decided not to do so that time. Maybe because I really felt like partying or because I had already refused to go out a few days earlier and I did not want to do it again. Probably both. I replied 'YES' and started getting ready while drinking some red wine in order to put myself in the right mood and avoid paying exorbitant prices at the party. The latter turned to be inevitable.

I left home and headed to Mirano that luckily is just about three minutes on foot from my place. At the entrance, I met up with my friends. All fancily dressed up, fragrantly perfumed and trendily combed. Everyone hoping to drink some indecent quantities of alcohol, dance on the tops of the tops of the spinning dance floors and of course - meet potential dates, boyfriends, girlfriends or at least (in some cases - only) candidates for one-night-stands.

I found myself among people with that kind of desires.

We entered ending up in a spacious but still very crowded vestibule of Mirano. Whenever you are inside it is better not to have a jacket or want to pee - the queues to the toilet or the cloakroom seem never-ending. Luckily, I had none of those wishes so I freely walked to the main dance floor - it was even more crowded. The thick air smelled of cigarettes and God knows of what else. A drag queen was dancing on the stage in the middle of the dance floor that was spinning around its axis. There were much more shows later that included - some hot, muscled guys wearing leather, dancing with fire and walking on stilts or hot female dancers hardly dressed up, moving seductively and drawing attention of all the guys around. The techno music was extremely loud and aggressive. As expected the drinks were very expensive. Nevertheless, in my excitement, I turned out to be very generous buying whiskey to some random, freshly met (straight!) guy. Having been drunk enough, I led myself to the main room where I bumped into another friend of mine with whom I crazily took over the dance floor staying there for at least one hour of unstoppable dance.

The place and its ambience had to remind me of similar places in the Kingdom - Theatro in Marrakech or another night club in a fancy and expensive neighborhood of Casablanca. I partied in the latter in the end of May last year. I was drunk and I ended up there with some friends and random people. I would have normally disliked that kind of a disco but that time it was different. Loud techno music, crowds of rich and spoiled Moroccan boys and girls and killing prices did not put me off. I enjoyed myself while dancing, wandering or stumbling over; glass of some drink including vodka in hand. 

Pretty much the same atmosphere as casablancoise was last night in Brussels.

I still do not know why I normally hate this kind of places but then it was different e.g. last night. Is it the matter of my attitude? Or maybe it is because of some rare conjunction of the planets of our solar system that made me like things I normally do not enjoy. Then it is only approximately once a year that it happens so I will have to wait until 2010 for another party like this.

I must then hope for more frequent conjunctions. May the solar system help us realize our dreams!

the theory of probability

Sometimes to be lucky… you just need some luck. It is not so much that you can do in order to get it. It is rather the theory of probability in mathematics that can explain this phenomenon.

You just need to happen to go the right place, pass the right street or bump into the right people. If today you leave the office too early, then maybe you will miss the love of your life who left the office later than usual and therefore you will not happen to meet by chance.

Two weekends ago, the theory of probability was on my side.

On Friday, I went to an Irish pub called ‘Wild Geese’ where I met up with a girl from my office who had suggested to all Poles working with us to hang out in that pub on that day. We were the only ones to show up. She came over with a friend who used to work in marketing for private sector but hated it so much that she decided to apply for a prestigious diplomatic-consular course organized by the Polish Foreign Ministry and ended up working in Brussels at the Polish delegation by the UE where she deals with the Iran’s nuclear programme. She never regretted her decision and she finds her current job much more interesting and exciting. Her husband works in consulting and truly hates it. A friend that came over there with me also hates her job so we connected over the mutual, negative feelings we had for our professions. It was us – the unhappier ones trying to find our way in our confusions and her – the happier one who decided to go for something totally different and out-of-the-box. And she succeeded while we were failing.

No matter how sad it sounded it at least gave me the idea of how things could be handled.

Around eleven PM, we decided to leave. We said goodbye and everyone headed towards their cars. When I was about to get in I heard my name being said and then I saw two friends of mine standing and smiling to me. I was happy to see them. We talked a bit and later they suggested coming back to Wild Geese where they were heading too. I did not oppose and spontaneously accompanied them.

Le part deux of the night was even more amazing. We spoke about the escape from the convenient golden cages of social insurances, retirement plans and decent salaries – all paid in order to keep people doing the boring jobs. We thought of going to places like Goa, South-East Asia or at least to charming and lovely Mediterranean region. Out of sudden, she reminded herself about my blog and started praising my writing – both the writing and the language skills, the topics I write about and the thoughts and remarks I have. She said I should start doing that professionally. To make it even more meaningful, a few seconds later I bumped into another person who kept reading my blog and she also praised it saying I was writing in a smart and funny way while at the same time it was also very intriguing. I was speechless to receive so much flattery. I must have looked like a fifteen-year old, ugly and full of complexes girl who was just a subject of attention of the cutest guy in the school.

If I had not wrongly booked my plane tickets to Italy and thus if I had gone to Venice on that weekend (that was the plan), if I had not received the email from my colleague, if I had not left the pub at eleven PM only to bump into my friends and return there, that all would have never happened.

The next days were full of reunions with friends from different parts of the world who at that same time all happened to be in Brussels. It was wonderful and just made me realize that long-distance friendships were also possible.

On Saturday, my Polish friend, Aleksandra, invited me for a Portuguese dinner she was going to. It was organized by the Couch Surfing community and it involved different nationalities, different personalities – all sharing many things in common – being open-minded, with international experience, speaking a few languages and being extremely interesting, funny and smart. A fabulous mix I always adore. These people seemed much happier and reconciled with their lives and occupations as they looked like they had been enjoying it all.

If my friend, Aleksandra, had not been blown off by her friends who did not go to Amsterdam with her, if I had gone to Venice or decided to answer another invitation I would have never ended up in that place, enjoying the conversation, food and great people.

Even tough, we can never totally control the theory of probability and where it might take us I am sure that we still have a lot of room for manoeuvring and increasing our chances.

And thus we will live happily ever after.

the theory of relativity

The bad season came unexpectedly along with the New Year of 2009. It showed me its nasty images and did not let enjoy my life in this city properly. Or maybe it was me who went to the DVD store and took the wrong CD with the wrong season. Was it my entire fault not to be able to enjoy my life as it deserves to be enjoyed? Did I make enough efforts to get the new season? Or maybe I had too much of a bad attitude?

Why can't we (or rather I) be happy the way we should be especially when we have few worries around? Are we too idealistic? Requiring? Neurotic? Unfair towards ourselves and our achievements?

If 10 years ago, someone had told me how my life would look like in 2009 I would probably not have believed them. It would have sounded to me like a never-attainable dream. A paradise. Living and working abroad. Having great parties and travels. Going out and spending time with wonderful people. Earning decent money and having promising perspectives for the future.

In 1999, if someone had said offered all that, I would have accepted it without a sign of hesitation or questioning. I would have taken it all with my eyes closed. I would have embraced it and thanked God for the rest of my life.

And now, that I have it all I am often not able to fully enjoy it and live it the way it should be lived. Is it because I am neurotic, over-demanding and always-complaining?

This all just shows that happiness is a very relative term. And I am not speaking about how it is perceived by various people because then we will obviously see it is very relative. But even us – we see it differently depending on what we currently have and what we still want to achieve. It is much more difficult to stop, look back and smile. Instead we just look forward and run with tired faces.

But on the other hand, maybe we should keep questioning what we have and make sure that what we have is what we really need. Do I really require too much when I say I want to like what I do? Or simply I did not try hard enough to be convinced it would be something for me? Does it take time to start liking it or you should know it right away? Should I give it more time? Should I be punished for not entirely enjoying it while other people from my country and of my age say I am extremely lucky to have this kind of life given the current economical situation? If I change it will it make me happier or will I find other aspects to complain about? Should I fight for something I am not sure I want to win? Maybe, once achieved I will love it. Or maybe I will want to toss it away and struggle to get something new.

I guess the bad season is not because I like something or not.

It is definitely because I do not have enough answers. Instead there are too many unsolved equations.

Rabat for you, Rabat forever

Today, I got thrilled having received an email entitled 'Rabat dla Ciebie' which meant 'Rabat for you'. After getting back to a normal state preceded by a heat wave of excitement I read the email and then to my disappointment I realized it was not about the capital of Morocco. 'Rabat' in Polish means also 'a discount'. And I was just informed that the development of the large size photos now costs the same as the development of the small ones...

Damn it!

the eternal clash of the South and the North

On Saturday, on the Couch Surfing Portuguese night dinner, someone suggested an idea of Latin and Germanic brains. For some people it is easier to learn Latin languages (Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Romanian etc) and for others Germanic ones (English, German, Dutch, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian etc).

Is that truth? It might seem like in my case. Even though it was not a problem for me to learn English, it was much more difficult to learn German. I did not like the fact that there were three genders (masculine, feminine and neutral) - I not only struggled to memorize the vocabulary but also the corresponding gender. Often unsuccessfully. Even if, the grammar was not so difficult (I hardly have problems with grammar in any language including my dear Polish) I had problems with learning vocabulary by heart - especially the verbs. None of these issues is the case for me while learning French. I do not confuse the genders too often and I guess it is not such a big case to memorize the words. I studied German for around eight years and now I cannot really speak it. Unlike French of which I have a conversational level after less than two years of studying (and although French is widely spoken in both Morocco and Belgium I still would mostly be part of Arabic/English/Flemish and less often French speaking groups). I also understand some Spanish and Italian although I never studied any of them. Is it just that they are easier or more similar to French? Are Germanic languages (i.e. Dutch or the Scandinavian ones) more difficult than the Latin ones? So what about the people who say they have Germanic brains?

Are we more likely to learn more easily only Germanic or only Latin tongues?