A last kiss, before I disappear in the crowd.
‘When will you be back?’
‘Soon’.
Always the same answer.
I should have gotten used to our goodbyes by now, but it’s always piercing my heart.
I go, he stays.
It’s almost become like a ritual between us.
He takes me to the airport, and returns home alone.
And while he comes home to our little shared kingdom I do more than just visit a different place – I dive into an entirely different world.
A world I did not know before.
A world that remains an intangible illusion for many.
A world made of dreams, designed to take your breath away.
A world my boyfriend does not know – and that’s one of the things I appreciate about him so much.
In the world I’m talking about, you are not only special, you are better than others.
You are among the chosen few to dine in the finest restaurants, lodge in the most luxurious hotels and party in the hippest clubs – together with the other chosen ones, all sky high above the mass of average commoners.
Better than all the people I call friends and family.
Flashback:
I grew up in a family that wasn’t particularly wealthy, economically more like typical average.
My parents had enough to buy me little extras sometimes (stuff like Barbies, Adidas Superstars and Buffalos), and every couple of years we went on summer holidays and stayed in 3 star hotels, in Turkey, in Spain or at the Baltic Sea, when money was tighter.
But you know what? When I think about our holidays together, I always smile. As a child you couldn’t care less if the furniture is by a famous designer or if the breakfast buffet impresses with rare exotic fruit (bread, cheese, ham and Nutella is plenty).
Of course, I knew nothing about business class plane tickets, and had never seen a luxurious restaurant from the inside.
It’s normal for me to take care of my own stuff, to queue at the end of the line and to respect everyone for the job they do, actor or cleaning lady. We’re all humans, and on that level we’re all the same. Some of us were simply more fortunate than others. My mother taught me that.
I’d say in some ways I belong to those people that had a relatively average and unprivileged start into life, but life proceeded to send a lot of luck and fortune my way. I’m such an incredibly lucky girl.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I sometimes forget it for a moment.
As a blogger I often get the special treatment, but not often am I as aware of it as recently in Marrakech.
I was picked up at the plane, guided to the passport inspection and literally didn’t have to lift a finger in the process.
I was treated like part of an elite. Better than the other passengers, better than the staff… and that scared me. It scared me because I enjoyed it. It was one of those moments showing me clearly why all the stars, starlets, the rich and powerful feel so special – so chosen.
It’s simple – by and large, that’s how the world treats you.
You get the feeling you’re in fact better than others, and that you deserve special treatment. In Morocco, where the service staff were subservient to a point it felt almost uncomfortable, I suddenly started to feel a wave of pity for those who take this kind of special treatment for granted.
I’m often really dismissive with this type of rich or (often self proclaimed) celebrity, full of themselves, and trying to impress me with all the places they’ve been, the things they know, the way they live. Instead of sharing with me what really makes them happy they try to show off with things that would make ‘someone like me’ happy, or so they probably imagine.
It’s the same thing, over and over again.
Save your breath.. These are things that makes me happy:
My job, which is not often taken seriously, but gives me complete fulfillment.
My family, that reminds me over and over of the true value of things, and put every designer bag I buy in perspective by reminding me what I could have done with the money instead.
My friends, that help me to stay grounded in reality and that will choose a drink in a fun, run down bar over fancy cocktail parties any day.
My cats, that snuggle up against my legs no matter how much money I have on the bank.
And my boyfriend, who has my back every day, helping me to pursue my dreams.
None of the things that make me happy can be bought with money. Some of us are luckier in life than others. And those of us that are fortunate enough to realize that our own attitude towards life gives us control, are the luckiest of all.
I enjoy my little excursions into the world of Chi Chi as much as I enjoy coming home to a life where I am in charge of my own laundry. I enjoy coming home.
And I do feel shame and pity for whoever believes that they are the chosen ones. They just don’t have friends and family to ground them.
Not all of us are lucky enough to be able to come home to a boyfriend and two cats, loving and welcoming, keen to hear about the latest crazy adventure.