I’m doing a pilgrimage through Italy. At my desk.
The week before Ramadan, I tried something recommended in O magazine, saying yes – no hesitation, no deviation – to every opportunity for a defined period of time. Consequently, I was out almost every night that week – quite trying and tiring for an introvert.
One such night found me at the Kempinski Hotel, getting my mojo with some mojitos and retelling my passport fiasco woes ad infinitum, in response to the question ‘When are you leaving?’ ( in Doha, it is a truism universally assumed that if one is an expat of certain means, one will make haste to remove oneself from the unrelenting torridity and cloying humectation of the Al Khaleej (the Gulf) summer).
Having bored myself and possibly several others, I decided to engage in dialogue with a couple of people, I had not met before. One of these ladies was looking for beta readers for her manuscript. Probably not the summit of ambitions but I have always wanted to read a book and offer suggestions to /help the writer before publication.
I volunteered before she could explain what her memoir is about. To paraphrase the author it is like ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ but it all happens in Italy and the love is more of the self variety.
When the privations of this season become too heavy, my famished spirit feasts on the writer’s tale of the simple joy of food during an arduous physical and spiritual journey.
Did something wonderfully unexpected happen, the last time you said yes unhesitatingly?