Entitling this post "Beauty Lies in the Eye of the Beholder" crossed my mind for the briefest of seconds, but then I determined that it wouldn't really do justice to the feeling that I will attempt to convey. Simply put, amidst being shoved and pushed past on the Metro, I had a moment of zen and in that moment of zen I realized that there is an intrinsic beauty in experiencing a culture first hand...whether one happens to be offended by said culture or not. Beyond our differences as people lies a rhythm to life that, while interpreted in different ways in different places, is recognizable to anyone who seeks it.
My moment of zen was triggered largely by observing the interactions of a Grandfather with his very young granddaughter who was in the arms of her father, who himself was once in the arms of the man now playing with his daughter. Grandpa would put the tiny fingers of the baby in his mouth and pretend to gnaw on them until the baby cooed. Countless times I have witnessed similar interactions, mostly in a language that I fluently comprehend, but experiencing the familiar beauties in life 6000 miles away from home, I guess, exemplified it even more.
Of course there are the not so familiar aspects of being abroad, specifically in a country predominated by the Muslim faith. For most of the Metro trip I was treated to the deeply toned, yet reserved, voice of a man reciting from the Quran. His voice was barely audible over the noise of the Metro, unless you were within earshot...like I was. I still contend that the most religious experience that I have had so far in my life was hearing the call to prayer from 20 or so minarets in the heart of Old Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. This pious man on the Metro carried the same level of captivation in his voice, spinning a beautiful symphony of words no louder than a cricket in Central Park. But just like the cricket, if you happened to hear him, you would have heard nothing but music...unless of course you actually understand Arabic.
But of course the more things change, the more they stay the same too. There was a teenage guy on the train with gelled up curls fit for the Jersey Shore. Beyond his over-greased hair I didn't pay much attention to him until I noticed him talking a few gentlemen sitting down. I had noticed when I got on the train that he was holding a charging plug and of course I assumed that he had probably just bought it. It gradually dawned on me though that he was actually trying to sell the charging plug to someone on the train. I'm used to the impersonally shouting of the New York City subways where the hawker yells out what he has and subsequently the price for it. This kid made hawking a personal experience, talking up the product with his potential buyer before giving his price...well at least it appeared that's what he was doing. If I read the interactions correctly, then bravo to that kid...not that I want the NYC hawkers trying to butter me up with sweet talk, but if it works here then more power to him.
Thanks for reading...I hope I didn't lose you while trying to get my feeling across.
-Diggs
No comments:
Post a Comment