I Dream the Dream

I dream of waking up in a small pad with Fleur-de-lis pattern all over the wall. I will peek at window and my eyes will capture the outline of the “most photographed icon” in the world. I will excitedly take in a lot of fresh air, as if that is going to be my last, and exhale happiness. I will eagerly prepare and go out with a beam in my face. I will stroll on the long avenue until I reach a historical image that distinguishes it from any other avenues worldwide. I will then go to a cafe for breakfast. Am I alone? I do not really care. Being physically there will be the entire thing that will matter. To continue, I will converse with the waitress. I will be delighted and proud of myself as I drop those phrases with the accent, enough for her to catch it. She will reply and I will understand it. I will say thank you and will patiently wait for my order. I will get pleasure from looking around – the people, their language, the scenery and the fact that I am there. I will munch on my breakfast and relish the taste of something genuine: prepared and cooked by real citizens of the country.

I will then proceed to museums. I will prioritize the one with a glass Egyptian symbol on it. My heart will melt and I will be the happiest person on earth. I will capture the view with my point and shoot camera – the only companion I will require on this trip. I will line up with a bunch of tourists and patiently wait for my turn. I will stand anterior the most famous woman on a canvass. I will dwell my eyes on hers and will take note of the feeling I will be having. I will roam around the museum and appreciate all the works of art in there.

I will walk out of the museum’s door fulfilled, evident by a very big smile. I will spend the rest of the day doing nothing. I will just walk to nowhere. I will capture all the interesting view – every pattern, statue and even random happenings. I will be happy with just that. I will enter stores and just catch a glimpse of what is being sold. I was never fond of shopping and I will be broke by the time I get there – no spare budget to buy stuff. I will continuously inhale with contentment and breathe out happiness. I will sleep early and prepare for the second day. I will not have an itinerary. Everything will be spontaneous – a month will be too long for planned ones.

On the second day, I will leave for a religious site somewhere far from the Capital city. I will utter my ultimate wishes and get a hold of the holy water. I will be bringing it to my home country. I will purchase religious items and will head back to where I am staying. That will take a day.

Third day, I will join a hop-in hop-off conventional city tours and will listen intently to the tour guide. I will engage in conversation with other tourists and find out where they came from. I will make friends of different colors (figuratively used). And once again, a sense of fulfillment. I will eat dinner with my new found friends at a specialty restaurant. I will not be concerned if a meal costs a month’s salary. I will just savor everything. We will then proceed to the “Red Windmill”, walk through there and will call it a day.

The following days will be devoted to castles and country sides. As expected, I will be enchanted by their beauty and historical significance. I will learn the country’s history by being rapt by the guide’s stories.

Finally, I will pursue the icon that screams that country’s name. I will ditch the elevator and climb up to its tip with the staircase. I will appreciate the view from the top and resist myself from jumping out. It will be the highlight of my travel. That moment will suffice everything and will prepare for a second country the next day.

Picture : From Google Images.

Is It Meant To Be?

Sometimes I will visit my blog and re-read everything that I’ve written. I do enjoy it. It does bring back the exact feeling I had when I was writing them. Yet, at the same time, they make me a little bit sad. Whenever on that page, I will always want more entries – and capture as much feelings that I’m having at a certain moment in my life. Twitter will not always be enough. I will need vivid images and the entire story. However, I do face a big hindrance. I am running out of topic to write about.

I feel like I’m compelled to make my articles entertaining that I find most topics not worthy such as my dreams, certain emotion, a man who tumbled down a staircase, “dumb” moments, my last song syndrome, an irritating article online and the like.

There can only be two reasons for that. First is that I am living a boring life or I am not just that creative. After a minute of contemplation, I am choosing the latter. I mean some people can turn the most boring topic into an interesting one. I might not have that skill. The topic shall have to be a very fascinating one before I write about it. I sometimes feel like my style of writing sucks out the worthy of note elements of the topic.

Okay, so it has always been a misconception that “practice always makes perfect.”  I say, there are things not really meant for you to do. Do not get me wrong. This is not meant to dishearten you guys and this is not a bad thing. If you don’t really click on doing certain things, it’s either you drop it and find another object to be good at or you keep on doing it (as a leisure pursuit only) and look for another fixation that is meant for you and expect to be more successful at it.

I guess you already get it. This article is a disclaimer. If you find my succeeding articles not that interesting, please do not get mad or irritated. This is just sideline.