In a nice Thai restaurant, Arm asked Pedrito and me if we “can handle” the spicy fish he was about to order. Our sweet toxic masculinity jumped in to say, “Of course!” The fish came decorated with green peppercorns and baby chili with some sweet and sour sauce. Pedrito gave up after a few bites; for me it was delicious (and spicy), but my ego refused to admit that it was probably a better idea to delegate the fishy-task to Arm. What I also learned, is that you should not drink soda after stuffing your food with spicy food; the combination is more like a nuclear reaction, like a volcanic lava that tries to jump out in the form of reflux. Already on the walk after dinner, I felt that some of this napalm ended up in my lungs, making the top of my chest burn. Luckily, the bachata party afterward helped digest the fish and its friends inside my stomach.
The few days we spent in Bangkok had an unbreakable routine. We had a daily gym session, ate Pad Thai, which is THE typical Thai dish, had a daily late-night back massage, and ended the day with pancakes from food stalls with banana or mango. Between these essential activities, we explored and discovered crazy Bangkok, which reminds me of Cairo in many aspects. Having almost the same population as Cairo but spread out on 3x the area of Cairo, which makes Cairo more crowded. Nevertheless, it was very crowded, and we sometimes had to take motorbikes as a means of transportation instead of taxis since they are much faster and go through traffic like a hair in dough (Arabic expression). Even though, we barely managed to be on time for most of our appointments. Pedrito said that we were “playing with time” and I thought we were rather playing with destiny taking these motorbikes.
Thailand is the homeland of Muay Thai, a combat kickboxing sometimes named “the Art of Eight Limbs” since you can use fists, elbows, knees, and shins. Pedrito had tried it in the past and was determined to buy original Muay Thai shorts. Which looked like fancy underwear boxers with golden inscriptions. We also went to a Muay Thai event in the main stadium for these events, which was, for me, a highlight of our time in Bangkok. The event featured a few fights, mostly between international fighters. The fighters started by doing rituals in the corners of the ring and then started the actual fight, divided into 3 rounds. At the beginning, the level was good until we saw the later fighters who triggered many WOWs. In particular, there was a fight between “Mohammed” from Iran and a tall black “Christ” from the USA. It is difficult to believe that this fight was not staged, hehe. Mohammed finished Christ quickly with a knockout (nothing intended here). One fight was between two Thai fighters who initially looked like kids with their small bodies. However, once the fight started, you could easily see that this combat sport was born here. They were agile, and their punches were scary fast. This exciting fight ended up with a draw. The last fight was between a Thai champion and another from Taiwan. As exciting as it was, it lasted only less than a minute, where the Thai fighter did an air double kick with his knee ending in the bottom of the poor Taiwanese’s chin, who immediately fell to the ground, followed by a hurry of his trainer and the medics. The Taiwanese fighter was carried out in a wheelchair. This fight concluded the event that was very well-organized and very entertaining. Also the presenter was very charismatic in the “Let’s get ready to rumble!” style.
Bangkok treated us nicely. Piotry does not want to go home. We ate a lot, danced bachata with the locals, and went to jazz events with Arm and his friend Pete. I think we have experienced multiple levels of what Bangkok can offer. We also went for custom-tailored linen suits, which I am excited to see how they come out. Our next stop is Phuket, where we hope to tickle the sandy beaches, get tanned, and eat more Pad Thai and Roti pancakes.
Jetlagged, we woke up around 14:30 pm and rushed to the street for breakfast, thinking we lost half of the day. Khaosan Road is a main party street in Bangkok, crazy at night but so peaceful and quiet during the day. Pedrito and I had a serene breakfast while I contemplated his not-so-often-smiling face. I told him that today, I will have a smile-counter for him to have some statistics. This moment of serenity was not an indicator of the next 12 hours in this crazy city.
We had no plans and no to-do. We started walking randomly in one direction until a tuk-tuk offered us a tour for 40 Bhat (which is around 1.25 Swiss dollars). As Piotr (we also call him Pedrito) said when I asked him about the program, “He can take us where the fuck he wants”. Our first step was a tiny temple with some golden Buddhas. After 30 seconds of looking at the first Buddha temple, you ask yourself, “Now what?”. At this golden moment, a middle-aged Thai man who looked like he had a decent job entered and did some bowing, then came to us to strike up a small conversation. He said we were lucky to be in this temple because it opens one day per year, that Thai people come there when they start a new business or get married to get blessings, that he drove 13 hours for his brother’s wedding, and asked about the program of our tour and said that the planned visit to a textile “factory” was lucky since they had a promotion for custom-tailored suits. He wished us luck and went away while we took our tuk-tuk to the factory, which turned up to be a regular tailor shop with high prices, and the whole thing is a scam. Our tuk-tuk driver confessed that the tailor shop gives them coupons for the gas station to fill the tuk-tuk with gas for the whole day. Our next stop was a “tourist information center” which also turned out to be a scam. The woman lied when I asked her whether this “center” was affiliated with the government. When I said, i don’t want to book any tours, and I just want information,” she said something in Thai that I imagine meant, “Get the F* out, you cheap tourist.”. Our next stop was a Big Buddha temple. Pedrito reached the top of his enthusiasm when he said in a monotonic voice, “Yeah. It is big”.
We then took a boat trip in the canals of Bangkok. For me it was a movie in the cinema. Passing by houses of different economic statuses. Some poor ones that barely have some metal as a roof, and just beside them are glass-walled lofts or villas. It was very interesting to watch people doing random things in their decks; most of the time I had no idea what the person was doing. Some of the houses were shops selling unidentifiable things. This trip triggered a few philosophical conversations between me and Pedrito about the spectrum of human happiness. I pondered how many of them, probably poor, seemed to have a very slow pace of life that was difficult to imagine being stressful. Check this youtube viedeo about the boat tour.
After the tour we walked around, again randomly in any direction. Which took us to a live music concert with a local market, then we found ourselves in a flower market, which is a whole street selling flowers. I assumed it is since Buddhist people use flowers a lot in their temples and offerings.
Crazy things happen all the time. Timing is mostly crazier. The moment Pedrito and I were waiting to cross a street, a motorbike came fast and hit another motorbike with a couple that wanted to turn. Since the second one was at an angle, the second motorbike was kicked away, and the couple that was sitting on it flew in the air and landed on the asphalt. A surreal scene for us. We rushed to the scene to see if help is needed. The girl on the floor was holding her stomach, but nobody seemed to be badly injured. The locals took care of the situation.
We spent the rest of the evening in our party street, where we ate dinner twice, once on a rooftop, and got a full-body Thai massage. Khaosan Road started showing us crazy things, with ladyboys dancing erotically in a bizarre scene. Plenty of food stalls, and many of them selling barbequed insects and scorpions. Grilled crocodile meat! Many offers for sex-shows and etc. Even the wrist bands they sell had bizarre writings like “I rape gay retards”, and “I love irish cunt”. It was easy to conclude that this street is exactly what was meant in all the holy books when God sent his wrath down upon the earth.
A bald Polish gentleman, with a taste for cigars and women with cigar-colored skin, was waiting for me in Milan with a slight flu. A cheaper flight from Malpensa is just another excuse to pass through this kingdom of beauty: Italy. Probably, if you add all the costs, the trip from Zurich would have cost the same. But life can also be measured by the number of times you’ve been to Italy. We took an expensive Uber with Simone, who entertained us with a lively conversation during the 100+ euro ride to the airport. Both flying with Air China, we discovered that Piotr had booked a different and shorter transit through Chengdu instead of Beijing. I tried to convince the check-in clerks to book me on his flight, but my attempt to charm them was met by “I can’t do it in the system”. I knew that Air China would probably be of no help to a privileged person who wanted to change a flight just to be with his friend. The customer support would most likely pay more attention to whatever fraction of the 1,000,000,000 Chinese people are flying today.
I spent my time on the plane watching a Chinese comedy, an Indonesian super-hero movie, and relocating the head of my sleeping Italian neighbor from my shoulder. Aware that his girlfriend is in the seat in front of him, I repeated “I am not your girlfriend”, while he kissed my shoulder and gave smiles and bites in the air (grrrr), without consciousness. Nevertheless, I found the situation cutely funny, hehehe.
The trip comes at the end of my work in my previous clinic before I move to a new hospital for a next rotation. Piotr and I are bachata dancers, and we will be joined later in the journey with our also-dancer Thai friend “Arm”, whose real name is not really “Arm” and we don’t really know his name. With these two gentlemen, I plan to tickle the sun, engage my taste buds with the rich culinary culture of the East and dance with some cigar-skinned ladies (while hoping they are, in fact, ladies without cigars… hehehe, sorry for the cheap joke).
15 hours in Beijing
I planned a 15-hours transit in Beijing to discover the city on my way to Thailand. Well, I didn’t. As soon as I left the metro station downtown to the street, I was hit by the -3 degrees cold, I was not prepared for. Within a minute, I rushed back to the station and looked for plan B. It took a couple of hours. Back and forth to the street to hope for a taxi or a “Didi” = (Chinese Uber). I finally managed to go to a 24-hours SPA where you can relax, eat, drink, play video games, get massages, steam room, sleeping pods, for 299 Yuan which a bit more than 30 swiss francs with all-you-can-eat fruits, ice cream, and popcorn and all you can drink. When I entered the spa, I had to remove my shoes at the entrance, strip, shower, and they gave me one-time underwear and pajamas. In this transition, I saw way more than I wanted (which is zero) of naked Asian men. I am indeed writing these words here inside a steam room decorated with essential oils that force body stress out of your body like an exorcist forcing a jinn out of a possessed aunt. Inside were also chess sets. I spent the next couple of hours indulging in treating my body. The place was posh! They even threw rose petals in the toilet, which you come and shit on (somehow dark). In China, WhatsApp is blocked, so is Instagram messaging, Telegram, most of Google services are useless. No ChatGPT. I had to use the Chinese DeepSeek as my alternative source of directions and information. Getting a ride with the local app Didi was not successful for me. An eSIM from Hong Kong for the day with unlimited internet costed less than $2, so I could have connection with the non-Chinese world.
During the few hours inside the spa, it snowed. So I experienced Beijing with a different view as well. I took the metro to the airport, where I spent the next flight to Bangkok sleeping. In general, I was positively surprised by Beijing. For some moments I thought that Chinese people would have no reason to live in Europe or the West since their life in China is probably better. The transportation system is very efficient. What also caught my attention was the high sense of security. A security guard in each metro car! In each flight as well, there is a security person.
I arrived to Bangkok, took a “Grab” which is the Thai Uber and went to the hotel where Piotr was still sick. Although it was 3:30 am, I went for a pad Thai to kick off the Thai days.
At 47.3756° north and 8.5427° east Your white, serious-looking shirt, partly covered by those golden waves of your hair, clinching my arm under the umbrella and your “No is No”.
We have come a long way Somehow we parted, Somehow we stayed, It is like we weren’t destined, but meant to remain
My soul is naked. Tears. You, on the sofa in Buenos Aires, You, in climax, Me, within.
It’s a marvel how hearts can ache to connect but choose, still, to remain apart. We.
I strolled across the Bellevue Bridge on a serene, though cloudy, afternoon The beauty of the scene soothed any anxiety I might have carried after an insightful workday. Beauty always stirs something in me existential.. “Are you there?” “Do you have a plan for me?” “A partner?” “A purpose?” A moment later, I noticed the absurdity of this chain of thought. It had shifted so quickly from divine-centered to egocentric I remembered my friend Matija, and a remark he once made about a mental shift in the opposite direction. I concluded that, in the larger scheme of things, my last three questions might not matter. Each of us has a story, hopefully, non-boringly unique and not made to fit the norms that could render it: forgettable. Oh God! you see? I pivoted even here back to me!
You would think that our world is immune to certain things by now. Then some events happen where you see the bad guys unapologetically, shamelessly, & loudly challenge what we thought to have morally agreed upon regardless of our multitude of differences. What is more puzzling is how some previously loud voices suddenly turn silent, in a display of moral incoherence, which to me is immoral. Like the German national football team (and many supporters) taking a stance against the World Cup in Qatar contesting about human rights while remaining forever silent when it comes to the Gaza-issue. Most of us are morally naked. This is somehow my answer to the question “Why are you going to the United States, while Trump is the president?” A 10-day trip, mainly to attend my friend Amr’s wedding in Boston. Amr is a bright Egyptian doctor that went to the States to get his PhD and recently finished his medical residency and training as an epileptologist, which is a few things we have in common. I thought I would combine the trip with a short visit to Miami, which would be my second time after my lovely visit in 2022.
Landing in Boston and crossing the border was a breeze. I took the public transportation to my Couchsurfing host, Steve, a 67-year-old gentleman. It has been a while since I couchsurfed, having only hosted travelers in the last few years. I was looking forward to refreshing my “traveler’s nomadic soul” and stretching my arms wide to the serendipity of the universe. As I approached Steve’s house, I found the Ukrainian and Palestinian flags hanging outside. I now knew we were up to some good conversations. Steve welcomed me into his home where he lives with his foster child and two cats. He has been fostering children for a couple of years, giving them a roof and providing for them in his retirement. Steve insisted that I use his bedroom while he slept on the couch. A remarkable generosity.
During our conversation over his prepared breakfast and our long walk in the Arboretum that belongs to Harvard University, I got an unexpected glimpse into Steve’s life. His inspiring resistance to the government in different periods, joining protests and refusing to pay taxes to object to how the money is used by the government. He would declare his tax money and put it in an escrow account and tell the government “Here is the money that I don’t want to pay to support you.” He is not even keeping the money for himself. Counting the consequences that followed, I was more inspired to know that he started doing the same thing last year to object against the Gaza genocide. I bet Steve looks in the mirror and feels true to himself. After our walk, Steve had to leave for some appointments, among them his piano lesson. I prepared myself for Amr’s wedding, picked up the rental car, picked up Anna, one of Amr’s friends, and we drove to the wedding at a venue on the lake.
Amr’s bride is American, the wedding had a majority of American guests and some Egyptians from Amr’s side. The ceremony started in joyous and classy fashion. My heart melted to the words of their vows and I truly wish them a prosperous life with never-ending love. I mingled with other invitees and introduced myself randomly. “The world is too small,” I said when I met Sayed, another Egyptian doctor who used to live in the same building as my late grandmother! I was seated at a table with other epileptologists from Amr’s department in Harvard’s Brigham and Women’s Hospital. Eating, socialising, and dancing to Western and Egyptian songs concluded the beautiful event.
The next day Steve had to leave early for a sewing lesson. It is impressive how many things this man is still learning. I had my breakfast in a nearby café, then decided to visit the Museum of Science. A big building full of creative scientific experiences that would delight the most apathetic child. I roamed around avoiding stepping on the thousands of children that filled the museum with their accompanying adults and felt slightly overwhelmed with inspiration. Ideas for art projects that include scientific principles always excite me, knowing that I will only manage to realise a few of them in my lifetime 🙁 I grabbed a bite and decided spontaneously to attend an improv theatre show. Improv theatre is one of my favourite hobbies from many years ago and is again a place that never disappoints for some laughs and creativity. During the show, the actors asked which guest thought he came from the furthest. Egypt (or even Switzerland) was obviously further than New Jersey. They asked me a few questions about Egypt and I shared with them that Victoria’s Secret has many branches in Cairo since a few decades ago. They used my answer to generate a hilariously improvised show including King Tut wearing lingerie and an actress who had a bra branded “King Tit” hehehehe. After the show, Steve and I went to a free jazz concert in a nearby local church. It featured a mix of Black and white artists. Steve mentioned that this is not very common, and that the music scene in Boston is unfortunately often segregated. Steve offered to host me for two extra nights since we got along very well. I was thankful for his generosity and company.
With a neuron in Boston Museum of Science
I had no plans for Sunday. So I joined Steve and his friend Linda at an estate sale — which is practically when a family is leaving a house and selling everything: furniture, books, etc. Everything has a price tag, and you roam around and buy what you want. I went to the book section and bought a couple of books from the intriguing collection of what seemed to me to be a remarkable family. “The Lost Art of Healing” was written by Nobel Prize winner Dr. Bernard Lown, the man who invented the cardiac defibrillator. Steve and Linda dropped me near Harvard Square where I visited the Harvard Art Museums and roamed around different Harvard buildings. It felt somehow surreal to be there, where some of the greatest minds on the planet existed/exist. I wondered how it is to live here. What kind of interactions do you have with people in the bakery or in the canteen? What kind of conversations do you start or overhear in a bar? A kind of self-sufficient and auto-stimulating environment? I went for the famous lobster sandwich and oysters for lunch, then took my newly acquired book and went to a Harvard common area, sat among students and scientists, and hungrily devoured the pages; learning, being inspired, and thinking about the chain of events that led me to this moment. The butterfly effect. Was it deciding to Couchsurf? Or contacting Steve? Or deciding to join the estate sale? Has another sequence of events, in a parallel universe, led to an even more enriching experience? Steve went to donate platelets (would he please stop making me feel useless to society??) and afterward we met at an Egyptian restaurant where I introduced him to Koshari, Mahshi, Hawawshi and other typical Egyptian dishes. We split again so he could go with a friend to another jazz concert, while I intended to go to a bachata party — only to be overpowered by the sweet tiredness of jet lag.
from “The Lost Art of Healing”
On Monday morning I put on my suit and went to Brigham Hospital to spend the morning in the Epileptology Department. I had agreed with Barbara, the head of the department, to shadow there and see how things are done. I wanted to get a feeling of how things are done in a Harvard hospital. I attended a consultation with a patient with her, a meeting about functional neurological disorders (she is the president of the International Society of Functional Neurological Disorders), and exchanged a few questions about how epilepsy is diagnosed and our corresponding institutions. Another interesting episode in my Boston chronicle, and I have to say — how we do things in Zürich is not bad, it is not bad at all. Probably one thing that caught my attention was a wall with “Best Teacher of the Month,” where some doctor was awarded this title for his teaching activities. This reminded me of that rewarding American work culture that is almost absent in German-speaking countries. In Germany and Switzerland you only get letters of warning and lists of shame, listing doctors who are late in delivering patient reports, while good doctors (or other workers, for that matter) never get any recognition. So this is a shout-out to anyone who managed to read until this line: please use positive feedback at least as often as you use negative feedback, whether in work or in a relationship. We need a stronger positive-feedback culture. I grabbed a quick lunch, went to Steve’s place, picked up my stuff, and headed to the airport where I would fly to Miami. I’m done with this Boston cold weather.
In Miami, I won’t be Couchsurfing. Instead, I will try HomeExchange.com for the first time. I learned about it at the end of last year, and another encounter a couple of weeks ago refreshed this knowledge. So I decided to let some people stay at my place during my trip. This gave me some “points” that I can use to stay at other people’s places around the world. I used these points to book an apartment in Miami for five nights. This has already saved me a few hundred dollars (if you wonder how I can travel so often 🙂 ). I will be joined in Miami by Mohamed, a Syrian epileptologist who, after finishing his training in Germany, decided to go to the United States and re-do his training, currently living in Texas. He saw my posts on Instagram and happened to have holidays he was undecided about. He decided to fly to Miami to join me. Sweet serendipity.
Dieses Mal muss ich gewinnen! Du wirst mich nicht überholen… Nicht beim Ü80-Rollator-Marathon!
Ich erinnere mich an unsere erste Begegnung, vor etwa fünf Jahren. Du hattest mir geholfen, mit meinem Rollator in den Zug zu steigen. Ich dachte: “Was für ein süsser Gentleman!” Deine grauen, feinen Haare und deine silber-blaue Krawatte liessen meine Gedanken 60 Jahre jünger werden, und meine Emotionen standen in Flammen! Du hattest nach meiner Nummer gefragt, und der Rest… war Geschichte.
Ich erinnere mich an unser erstes Date. Hattest du damals wirklich einen Rollator, oder hast du nur so getan, damit wir uns auf Augenhöhe begegnen? Wie oft bekommt eine Frau über 80 noch eine Rose? Wir sprachen über unser langes Leben, während wir einen unglaublich langsamen Spaziergang machten. Ich liebe es, wie albern du sein kannst, wie du mir zuzwinkerst. In deinen Augenfalten sehe ich Welten, tausend Geschichten, die sich dort erzählen. Ü80 bist du, aber mit Ü800 Leben, und Ü8000 Liebe.
Nein! Jetzt bist du schon hinter mir im Rennen! Ich bin mir nicht ganz sicher… Hast du dich etwa gedopt?! Schieeeedsrichterrrr! Mein Mann ist ein Doperrrrr!
Du streckst mir die Zunge raus, als du mich überholst. Am Ende waren wir beide auf den letzten beiden Plätzen — die grössten Loser. Während Gebrselassie seine zweite Rollator-Marathon-Goldmedaille holt, feierst du deinen „Erfolg“. Deine Illusionen kennen fast kein Ende. Aber komm, lass uns zusammen feiern.
Herr Doper, hast du für heute Nacht eine blaue Pille?
Curiosity was the force That drew us closer, In your darkened room. A ray of light sneaked through the window, To land on half of your face. I thanked God For allowing me to see your lowered gaze, I could see the cracks of your dry lips, That I was about to moisture.
Our breaths touched before we did, Like messengers.. I don’t see that ray of light now, But I feel you, Your lips For the very first time.
I am not myself anymore, And neither are you, you. The two people who have just kissed, as they were, Are gone. Now, there is me plus your kiss, And you plus mine. I 2.0 and You 2.0. A new encounter. A new mission.
And it was not curiosity that brought us to the second kiss. I was on an expansion mission. You sought confirmation. You tilted your head slightly This one was longer. More energy was exchanged, second law of thermodynamics. or an action and a reaction: Newton’s third law … of intimacy.
We are now closer than ever. Not quite the same lovers, two kisses ago. I liked this new “You” a bit more, And I hoped you felt the same.
Perhaps the “Me” from the last kiss Would align even better with you. You silenced my thoughts with your initiative: The third encounter. This time, you were driven by passion. I surrendered, to receive. New roles in our evolving dialogue: You, the hunter. Me, the gazelle.
I didn’t know this Me. Neither did you. A spark in your eye gave your secret away, And I stored it gently In a drawer within my hippocampus.
The fourth kiss was mutual, Like sharing an afternoon cake in a Parisian bakery. A decrescendo of tempo, Silence, Review of the balance.
Excuse me, dear reader— Our imaginary observer. I must draw the curtains now, Lay down my pen.
For the next five kisses Took place in heaven. where the angels have lined at the doors of Eden, You said they seemed familiar; I feared they might claim you back.
I felt an urgent need— To seal this chapter, To mark the moment, one last kiss, A full stop. a cherry on the top, a pinch of salt by Nusret.
Who are we now, my darling? Ten kisses later, And a hundred possible “Us”
Kintsugi (Japanese: 金継ぎ, lit. ‘golden joinery’), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.
Wikipedia
My thoughts were scattered, Among the remains of my heart.
They said it was shattered, When our paths drifted apart.
They asked me: “what happened?”
I sang your name, I praised your manners.
I tried, but in vain, to clarify these matters.
Then I told them what happened:
The fire in my heart, That you came and lit,
Was put off at once With no ashes left.
I was by myself, In my darkest of moments.
Your shoulder was missing, When I cried and wept.
So no, my friends. I have no regret. It wasn’t her words Nor that what she did.
It was what was not.
This curse is much older, She was just one bit. I am now getting wiser I, now, can admit.
I gathered my pieces And welded with gold.
My cracks are my stories, And eager to be told.
Your cracks are your secrets, That call me to unfold.
It may once more be shattered I may once more weld I may never surrender More cracks is more gold!
