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[life-in-techni-colour-blog1]

Marseille, August 2019

After the life-changing experience I had in Marseille in July, same year, my heart was craving to go back to that city and expand the universe of episodes I have lived. I had the feeling, well, I still do, that Marseille has become a kind of sanctuary for me.

 Is it the Mediterranean sea? Is it that I love bathing at la Plage du Prado?

Is it the chance to stare at beautiful sunsets every evening?

Is it the fact, that Marseille is the city in France with the most of sunny days during the year?

Is it that the sun kisses my skin and I feel that it injects me with interminable cosmic energy?

Or is it the language? That language that I started learning as a teenager and somehow never managed to speak fluently.

Or the Mediterranean culture? Is it the fact, that still in Europe, the “way of living” is similar to that in my country?

 Or even the fact that I find Marseille highly erotic? That people show their bodies in a self-confident manner, expressing sensuality and sultriness?

Is it the sexy local accent?

Is it the sun tanning that makes the locals look similar to ancient Greek heroes?

 Is it that I love seeing so many cultures sharing the same physical space, so well-integrated and functioning altogether in a chaotic, but charming environment?

Is it that people are loud, emotional, and like gesticulating and using their hands whilst talking?

Or that families watch the sunset at the beach, whilst kiddos play around?

Or the music that is played at the city centre every evening?

 Or a combination of all of them?

 I feel home in this sanctuary. I belong. I feel alive. My heart beats fast.

I have lust for life.

 I most accept that it took me some days to decide if I really wanted to go back “so soon”. I guess I was afraid that my previous experience was just too good, that my expectation would be difficult to be met.

It was all met, in new ways.

 I arrived. I left the airplane. I picked up my baggage. I went out of the terminal station.

As soon as the warm humid breeze touched my skin, I screamed loudly: “I am back Marseille, I am back for good”. I thanked life, I thanked the universe.

On the way from the airport to the city, listening the music that the bus driver had on, a question came to my head: how many people are able to do what I was just doing? How many people in this world have the possibility to take a flight, book a hotel, and just escape to their sanctuary?

Does everyone has a sanctuary? Is a sanctuary necessary at all?

How many people can decide where to go?

 I felt blessed. And responsible.

I am free. I can decide. I have the means to chose and to execute.

How many people cannot do that? Can’t they, or they simply do not want to?

 What to do with this blessing? Enjoy it on my own?

Or is there any way in which I could share it with the world? If so, how?

 Besides being in my sanctuary, Marseille gives me new life lessons, some of them have become one-in-a-lifetime experiences.

And this second visit was not an exception.

 Firstly. I had my first “date in French”. A real date.

 Greg (Grégory, his fullname) had beautiful green eyes. His lips were thin and suggestive.

He had the characteristic sun tanning of a real Marseillais. He was indeed a local guy, born and raised in Marseille, with that wicked local accent.

 The date was planned rather sporadically.

It was a Sunday, as I was on my way to the beach. La Plage du Prado is a rather common spot to go on a Sunday for bathing. Not the best beach in the city, nor my recommendation, but quite convenient as it is easily reached and you have all required amenities.

He called me. I did not pick up as I was on the bus. Well, that was the excuse. In reality, I was not picking any of his calls because I was terrified of speaking in French with him. I had the idea that my French would not be good enough for a conversation, and even worse, that I would make that noticeable to the other passengers on the bus.

Yes, even now that I am more awaken, such banalities and lack of confidence-moments appear in my life. Not so often anymore, but still present from time to time…

 I knew that it would not bring me much to keep postponing the call, and based on the fact that I really wanted to get to know him, I called him back once I reached my destination.

I told him where I was and that I was planning to spend some at the beach and he offered himself to come over for few hours.

I accepted.

 I felt so happy at the moment.

Opposite to what you might be thinking, I was not happy because I was about to meet a very good looking guy, but because I was brave enough to overcome my fear of speaking more than a couple of sentences in French. It was such a rewarding feeling.  

 After about one hour, he arrived with a bunch of things for a proper picnic.

He was, as already mentioned, charming. We talked about himself, myself, my interest for Marseille and my plans to visit more regularly the city.

We spend about three hours together and he needed to leave.

Regrettably, there was not a kind of funk between us, so we lost contact after that picnic.

 What was the learning out of this experience?

Well, I made myself vulnerable, accepting that my French might not be fluent and error-free, and as a reward I had a picnic next to Mediterranean see. Me! Alejandro! That guy who many times felt not good enough.

Isn’t life a beautiful box of surprises, once you give it a try?

 The second new learning that I had during that week involves a sex-shop.

The reasoning for me visiting the sex-shop is not relevant and therefore, not to be disclosed.

 What I can tell you, in case you, yourself, have never entered to one: there is nothing special about them. I even fooled around with the employee who supported with my purchasing, who made some recommendations as well.

 To be really honest, I was not afraid of the sex shop itself.

I was terrified of “what people would think of me” when entering and when leaving the shop. As this shop is located on a major avenue of the city, and I went there around 18 hrs on a regular working day, you can imagine that the probability of people seeing someone entering or leaving the shop was rather high.

 Learning? A very basic one. No ones gives a fuck about what I do. If I enter or leave or stay for decades in a shop.

As I went it, I came out. No one really cared about it.

Isn’t is crazy all the ideas that I still have in my head? Terrified for what people would say?!

They did not even know me. They will probably not see me again. And I was still terrified.

Alejandro: so much for you still to learn.

 Now we get a bit more serious.

Third learning during that week: I am blessed.

 So, on the second weekend in Marseille, before departing back to Frankfurt, I decided to spend one day in the natural park Les Calanques. Go to your favourite web browser now and type “Les Calanques”. You will be stunned by the beautiful sceneries of this park.

 Calanques are narrow inlets that are developed in limestone that are found along the Mediterranean coast. Because of fluvial erosion, these Calanques take the shape of valleys, which converge mostly into the sea. You will see some pictures attached to this post.

What do I like from them the most? The contrast between their colour and the intense blue of the sea.

 So that Saturday morning I took the bus and arrive to one (very) small town called Les Goudes. Even if Les Goudes is a picturesque and cosy place, I saw most of it in less than one hour. As it was barely midday, I decided to walk on the coast with direction to the Calanques.

After few minutes I knew that I had made a very good decision.

 My eyes saw a perfect colour-balance between beige and blue: on one site the massive Calanques in their beautiful beige colour and just next to it, a green-blue sea. Both fighting for physical space, and at the same time, embracing together in a perfect synergy.

 I kept walking. As the time was passing by, more and more people were arriving. All of them astonished by the beautiful scenery. All of us making pictures, which will never be able to replace reality.

Even if I look at those pictures now, they cannot equal the still vivid images in my head.

Because it is not only about the colours, but the sound of wind (le mistral), the environmental humidity, the sun, the heat…

 I spent quite some time making pictures and walking along the rocky coastline, until I felt hungry.

I was lucky that I had food in my bag, same that I bought that same morning in the only store I found in Les Goudes. Amongst those articles: a slice of pizza (I will elaborate more about my experience with pizza in Marseille in upcoming posts), a bottle of water, a bottle of orange juice and some cookies (Navettes à l’anis) that I still had in my bag.

 I started looking for a place where to seat down and eat calmly. That was apparently not possible at the coastline, as it was already full with tourists (I do not consider myself a tourist in Marseille anymore) and families eating already (that just made me think of Greg and our picnic).

 My eyes went then to the mountains themselves. Almost everyone was on the coast, but few were climbing to the mountains. I spotted at least three places that were perfect to seat down and have some lunch. So I decided to move there.

 After few minutes I was about 300m above the sea level and from there, I had a beautiful scenery in front of my eyes. I could even see part of the city (Marseille).

I ate. Not only the food and beverages were feeding my body, but my soul was at the same time catered by what I was just discerning.

I felt a funk of happiness moving through my body. Was it the very first time that I had a love-attack? Yes, they exist, just as the panic-attacks do.

I ate, I observed, I felt happy.

 When I finished, I decided to move further to the mountains. I sang, I spoke to myself, I made pictures.

After about 30 minutes walking to the top of the mountain, I found a valley, around 800m above level sea, I guess. Maybe a bit more.

 From that valley I could see other Calanque in front of me, few houses at its bottom, gently placed next to the green-blue sea. Behind me only rocks and Les Goudes still in sight, although from the distance, the houses look pretty tiny.  

To my right the blue sea. To my left three massive mountains.

I though of researching for their name whilst writing these lines, but I consider their names quite irrelevant, so no naming them for now.

 In the background, I could hear the Cigales. The sound came from all directions. Even if the wind was strong and loud enough, that characteristic sound from the Cigales was louder.

 So, I was there, on a Saturday afternoon, standing in front of three massive mountains. I looked at them, whilst listening to the Cigales.

My whole life cross my head as movie whilst standing there. That movie last at least 10 minutes. In that time I just stared at those three peeks.

I though of my way up. I though of everyone who helped me reaching the very best of me. I thought of the sacrifices my family made, especially my mom. I thought that she would have been astound as well, in case she would have got the chance to see those mountains herself.

She rarely left our town. She never left our country. She was never on the sea. She never got to walk barefoot on the sand.

 I thought of my brother. Of the time we spent together as kids and the time we did not spent, as I left Mexico.

What would have happened if I have stayed in Mexico?

Would I have spent more time with him?

Would we love each other more just by being closer physically?

 I thought of the friends that have shared the road with me. I thought of those that have been years with me, and those who appeared and disappeared because their mission in my life was over.

 I thought of my dreams as a kid, as a teenager.

Of the man I have become.

 I thought of Gustavo. I thought of Mark. I though of the people I have unintentionally hurt on my way up.

 Moreover, I though of how blessed I am.

Blessed because of what the life has given me, sometimes even without requesting for it.

I cried tears of joy.

 The fourth learning of that week is related to music.

By mere coincidence, I downloaded the latest album of the French singer Zazie. The album is called Essenciel and I can just recommend it to you. One of the few albums that I can hear from the very first track until the last one.

 The first song of the album is called <Speed>. This song verbalises some of the characteristics of our contemporary society: a) living to work, b) spending our life in the own cages we have created for our ourselves, c) waiting for the day to end, imagining of a better future and pursuing happiness based on accomplishments, d) thinking that we are “too old” to do certain things, e) living in automatic mode…

Listen it for yourself and let the magic happens.

 This song gives me hope.

It gives me hope that I am not the only one awakening.

It makes me feel energised and pushes me towards my complete realisation.

The song of my summer – so far.

 Allez hop!

[life-in-techni-colour-blog1]

Gustavo – the beginning

It was late summer 2006. I was back in Mexico, after two months spent in Europe. I was highly energised and motivated.

I had a new plan for my future: I would finish the university, work for around two years and then look for scholarships to study a Master in any Western European country, so that I could be near to my new friends: Katja, David, Luba, Klara, Zorana… All of them met in Vienna, Austria, in July the same year, during a workcamp in which all of us participated.

 If I am not wrong, it should have been end of August or beginning of September, as I met Gustavo in one chat room. At that time, LatinChat was the most used chat website in Mexico and there was even one chat-room for Queretaro, the city I was living at that time.

We met online. We moved to Messenger (trendy application at that time – similar to WhatsApp, but run over the computer). Yes, at that time, 2006, there were still no smartphones in the market – not at least in Mexico, not at least the way we know them today. In fact, at that time, I would have not thought that ten years later, technology would make possible to be texting (real-time) with my family sitting at the other end of the world.

We chatted for few weeks, we exchanged pictures and telephone numbers.

I found him very attractive. At least on the pictures he shared with me.

He was taller and slimmer than me, with green eyes and brown hair. He had pink outlined lips.

 After few weeks, we decided to meet in person.

It was a Friday afternoon. After my last class at the university. I guess around 3 pm.

We met in one mall located just next to my university.

 I arrived few minutes late. I was quite nervous.

He was sitting on a bench.

I came directly to him and we shook hands.

I was 21 years old. He was one year younger than me.

 We decided to go for a walk.

As we were both students, our economy was not necessarily good and, therefore, the date we could both afford was to go to a park, where we sat and got to know each other better.

 I portrayed him my summer trip in Europe and how great that experience was. I told him about my new friends and how much I missed them.

I depicted how my daily routine looked like for two months that summer: one of them spend in Trets-en-Provence (France) and the second one in Vienna (Austria).

I described how beautiful the summer in Europe was: how the faces of people brighten, how people sit next to the rivers to have picnics with friends and families, how the days are longer and nights shorter and how green the fields are.  

 Besides that, I sketched a bit my personal situation: my family, friends, my studies and my plans after graduation – as I was graduating on December that same year.

My plans were to stay in Queretaro, whilst looking for the way to go back to Europe.

It did not make sense to go back to my native city, Cuernavaca, even if my family was there. Not because I did not love them or want to be near to them, but because I loved my freedom and my new life in Queretaro.

 He explained about his studies, friends and family. I still remember that his best friend’s name was Jessica. Strangely, I never got to know her in person. Not even after having a relationship for more than three years with him.

About his family: he had one sister and a bother. His parents were happily married and, according to him, loved each other even after so many years together.

He explained about his nonna – grandmother, who came as a kid with her parents from Italy to Mexico during the second world war. His nonna was one of many children who came as refugees to Mexico, running away from the great war in Europe.

That made clear why he was fair-skinned and had coloured-eyes.

He was studying mechatronics in the local State University. He was quite good with computers and technology.

 Whilst we were talking, he touched my leg a couple of times to show that he had interest beyond friendship. I was not brave enough to do the same, but tried to show with my gaze that I was interested too.

 We spent the whole afternoon talking about us. The people around did not disturb at all.

 As it started to get dark, we decided to start moving back to my university.

By coincidence, I was living in a shared apartment nearby and he was not living so far away from there.

 We walked with direction to my place.

I cannot remember if I invited him to come over to my apartment or if he asked for it.

The relevant fact is that we ended up in my balcony.

 We were there, sitting in the balcony of my shared apartment, at the fourth floor, looking to the stars and lights of the city. At that time, I was living in a building located on a hill, so it was possible to see a good part of the city from my apartment.

We came closer. And at some point, we were kissing.

 His lips were warm and humid. At that time, I was not a great kisser. Neither was he, but we enjoyed a lot our time.

He left around 2 am and by mistake, or maybe on purpose, he took my keys with him, so we met again the day after.

 That second time, we did not end up at my place, but at his.

As his family was on holidays for a week, he was home alone and invited me to stay overnight.

We stayed awake until late. Around 2 or 3 am, he asked me if I was interested in a serious relationship. “With you, of course!” – was my reaction. So we started our relationship officially that night.

 After that day, we met almost every afternoon.

I had the most of my lessons during the morning, so did he. We would meet around 2 pm to cook and eat together.

He started spending his entire afternoons at my place. To the eyes of my flatmates, Gustavo was only a friend. A really good one, though, as he spent so much time with me.

 Considering that I was living on my own in that city, I did not need to answer questions from my family. But he had to. He needed to answer why he was suddenly spending so much time out of home, even during the weekends. This was, however, not a major problem. Not at least at the beginning of our relationship.

 I liked Gustavo a lot. The physical and emotional intimacy we had was a new level for me.

I felt very much attracted to him, as I had never felt for someone before. His body was like a strong magnet that would attract me fiercely. I could not keep my eyes or hands off him. I used to look in his eyes and lose myself in them. For minutes. Or could have been hours.

 Sometimes, we would spend a whole afternoon in bed. We would talk about our future. About how much we would love each other for the years to come. About spending our whole lives together.

We would plan our future in Europe. He was even thinking of applying for the Italian passport, as his grandma had still an Italian citizenship.

 It was the first time that I had a relationship, in which my partner became a part of my life. I introduced him to my closest friends. He would come with me and my friends to parties. We would pretend that we were only friends, but he would touch me to signalise affection. I would then look at his eyes and show him that I felt exactly the same for him.

If I got drunk, he was there to take care of me. He would bring me to bed and sleep next to me.

 He was the first person with whom I woke up together. I would open my eyes to see his pretty face lying next to me. I would then touch his beautiful hair and, eventually, he would open his eyes, so I could lose myself in that intense green colour. Shafts of light would then enter through the window and touch his skin. My skin. Our skin.

It is such a gift to wake up next to the person you love.

 For the first time in my life, I felt that I was emotionally, sexually and physically bounded to someone. I loved him. As I never did before.