Bedtime Story - Walking City Streets

An exciting trip to a new country offers a new perspective, adventures, a treat for the senses and an unexpected encounter. Relax with this bedtime story about new experiences , travel, culture and discovery.

Transcript

Welcome to this bedtime story by M for Meditation.

I had never been anywhere like this before.

Most of my holidays had been to Western Europe to more familiar countries with more familiar languages and cultures,

But I fancied something a little bit different,

Something that challenged my comfort zone and something that encouraged me to consider a different way of life.

I think I knew as soon as I arrived into the city,

As soon as I got into my taxi at the airport and greeted my driver in my very broken attempt at tackling the language,

That I was definitely somewhere different,

Somewhere that was no longer purely built around Western ideals and familiarity.

This place was a unique melting pot of West meets East,

A city which had seen so much travel from so many different people passing through over such a vast period of time,

Each one of them leaving their own mark on the city,

The customs,

Traditions,

Architecture and way of life.

The hint of the unknown and the appeal of something new to discover created an element of excitement and intrigue,

And I didn't usually feel this on my holidays.

This was something new to discover and I was ready for the challenge.

Have you been here before?

My driver asked.

As we wound our way through the busy streets,

Each car jostling for position trying to be the first one to get to their destination,

It wasn't quite like driving that I was familiar with at home,

But that break of unfamiliarity was what I was looking for.

I haven't,

I replied.

But I wanted to try somewhere different,

And somewhere that didn't just feel like home with more sunshine.

Well,

You will find that people here are some of the friendliest you'll ever meet,

My driver said proudly.

We always welcome people to our country with a smile and hospitality.

I really hope you enjoy your stay.

I thanked my driver,

Encouraged by his friendly approach and honesty.

It was as though I had made the right choice in coming here.

After the driver dropped me at my accommodation,

I considered resting for a while,

But I decided that the draw of the city and its secrets to discover were too much of a temptation.

So I changed into some cooler clothes and different shoes,

For the temperature was significantly warmer here than back at home,

And I set out to explore.

My little hotel was at the top of a steep,

Cobbled street,

Too steep for cars,

With superb views across the city skyline.

But when I say city,

Let me be clear that this was not a place of skyscrapers and towering office blocks and modern architecture.

This was a city of history,

Buildings with stories to tell,

And an equal spread of churches,

Mosques and synagogues,

Unlike anything that I had seen before.

There was an energy lying just beneath the surface that I was keen to immerse in and get to know the character of the place.

The buildings that framed the narrow street were slightly weathered,

The rendering crumbling in places,

And window frames a little splintered and bleached from the sun.

But each windowsill was brightly decorated with overflowing flowering boxes,

Splashes of red,

Purple,

Pink and yellow tumbling down the walls,

With the occasional bloom resting on the pavement.

There was pride in these homes,

Regardless of their condition,

A feeling of down-to-earth approach to life and making the most of what you have.

As the steep road came to an end and opened out onto flatter ground,

I was presented with a labyrinth of even more narrow side street,

Crammed full of businesses with all manner of wares to sell.

The air was thick with loud conversation,

Calls to customers to come and buy,

And the happy chatter of tourists and locals as they traversed the streets in search of bargains and keepsakes.

Street shopfronts were so close that two people could touch them standing hand-to-hand.

Many had awnings that provided a much-needed shelter from the strong sunshine overhead.

It was certainly hot,

But a dry heat that lacked humidity,

And that was not unpleasant.

And there were smells too,

Like a cloud of invitation for the senses,

The strong aroma of fresh coffee,

Strains of sugar and baking bread.

My ears instinctively tried to pick up the language and make some sense of it,

But it was so unfamiliar.

So rather than try to engage,

I simply let it become part of the music of the city,

Noticing the difference in timbre and delivery rather than the actual words.

This was one of the joys of being in a foreign place,

Able to lose oneself in an unfamiliarity and enjoy the anonymity that comes with it.

I noticed that brass was a common theme here,

And almost every store I paused to look at had a man hard at work creating goods to sell,

Perching on a small stall with a hammer in hand as they crafted and decorated pots,

Trays,

Cups,

Candlesticks,

Ornaments and coffee pots.

The ringing ching and resonance of the hammer meeting the metal was part of the symphony of the city,

And the glow of the goods lighting the streets with this sunset-like colour.

There were stores selling traditional costume,

Jewellery,

All manner of ice cream,

Sweets,

Pastries,

Religious mementos,

Books,

Coffee,

Tea,

Crystals and handmade cosmetics.

Between the storefronts there were ancient-looking closed doors with large black locks,

And small gardens filled with beautiful flowers that then led away from the streets to hidden places of worship,

And benches offering respite between the leafy trees.

I had no clear intention to buy anything as I carefully wove my way between the groups of people that traversed the same streets as me.

Each little side street offered more and more opportunities to explore,

The already tight spaces somehow managing to accommodate small clusters of tables and chairs should the passer-by wish to sit and enjoy a coffee,

And one of the delicious-looking pastries dripping with honey and pistachios.

The coffee seemed to be enjoyed from tiny cups,

With a sugar cube dipped into the rich dark liquid rather than stirred in.

And much as I wanted to sit and do some proper people-watching,

There was just too much to see now.

There would always be time for a break later.

Whenever I paused long enough to examine something,

A shopkeeper would appear as if from nowhere,

And offer a polite nod and words of greeting,

Switching to English when they realised that I couldn't speak the local language.

Everyone wanted to know where I was from,

How long I was visiting for,

And did I like it so far?

So when the push of the crowds became a little too much,

I decided to seek refuge along an alleyway that was so small I almost missed it.

And it seemed everyone else had as well,

As I could see immediately that there was no one else there.

A rare place all to myself.

I slipped aside down the alleyway and breathed a little sigh of relief as the air immediately became quieter and calmer.

The buildings here were actually the backs of the stores,

With only doors to allow access for goods deliveries,

No windows,

No signage.

The sun couldn't reach here,

And the shade was a welcome relief from the heat of the day.

The alleyway was only short though,

And I could see people passing at the opposite end as it opened back out onto the main thoroughfare.

So I ambled slowly to enjoy the peace while it lasted,

Taking my time to notice the wooden beams and the bumpy surfaces of the buildings that told the story of their history.

So I was quite surprised when I came across a door which was partially open,

And as I Glimpsed inside,

I could see that the shop was tiny,

The size of a walk-in closet with no other doors,

Just one way in and one way out.

An elderly man was sitting on a stool,

Simply waiting for someone to find him.

He looked up and got to his feet,

Greeting me in the local language with a smile and a nod.

I returned the greeting and stepped inside to admire what he was selling.

Every wall was absolutely filled with beaded bracelets and necklaces of every colour imaginable.

They were hanging from hooks packed so closely together that I couldn't see the colour of the walls behind them.

The man gestured to the walls,

Inviting me to look at whatever I liked.

There were wooden beads,

Brightly coloured beads,

Gemstone beads,

Pastel beads interspersed with small silver charms,

Beads with matching coloured tassels,

And even beads with tiny little bells that tinkled sweetly when I touched them.

I didn't know if any of them had any religious meaning,

But they were truly beautiful,

And I felt as though I had discovered a secret treasure trove.

The man simply waited patiently while I marvelled at the shop,

And when I indicated a beautiful dark blue bracelet that seemed to be made of sea glass,

He proudly took it down from the hook and handed it to me to admire.

It was truly stunning.

The little silver spaces between the beads were the perfect complement to the deep blue,

And I appreciated the smooth surface of the glass as I ran the beads through my fingers.

I didn't know if I would wear it or whether it would be used as a decoration in my home,

But regardless,

I knew that it belonged with me.

I nodded to the man to show that I wished to buy it,

And he told me the price in broken English.

It seemed to be far too low to be right,

But I didn't wish to insult him by arguing that he was wrong.

So I selected another bracelet and a necklace as well.

His gratitude was almost tangible as he wrapped up my purchases in a little paper bag and exchanged it for payment.

I gave my thanks in his language,

Which caused him to smile and laugh a little,

But he then indicated another display of beads.

Assuming he was asking if I wanted to buy anything else,

I politely declined,

But he pointed towards the beaded bracelet that I was already wearing,

And then selected a similar one from his display.

He handed it to me with a wave of his hand to show that he didn't want payment for this.

It was a gift.

I tried to argue,

But he shook his head and smiled kindly.

Perhaps I was his only customer that day,

And this was his way of showing his gratitude.

Rejecting it would not be the right thing to do.

I took the simple wooden beads from him and placed it on my wrist to show my acceptance,

And he nodded encouragingly.

It suited me.

I thanked him again and stepped back out into the alleyway,

Holding my purchases tightly.

My heart felt full with gratitude,

And a little overwhelmed by the kindness that the man had shown me.

Such a simple thing,

But the meaning and the impact it had had on me was anything but simple.

Though we could not speak each other's languages,

We could understand and share kindness,

Thoughtfulness,

Gratitude and generosity,

And this meant more than words could express in that moment.

Feeling a little emotional,

I laughed kindly at myself.

It really was these things that could mean the most.

I knew that every time I looked at the bracelet,

I would be reminded of this time,

A reminder to look for the opportunities hidden just out of sight,

To seek out interactions and connections,

And to create memories.

So tucking the bag of memories into my pocket,

I made my way back out onto the busiest streets in search of one of those tasty little pastries.