Magic of Scarves – Part 1
The marketplace’s heat and pungent spices stifled me. Everything felt foreign. It was perfect – a treasure certainly awaited me here.
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In my 20′s and 30′s, I saved money for one purpose only – to take my next trip. Others saved for a car, a computer, their children’s education. I didn’t have children, I already had a car and my computer could always last another year. Travel. It’s what I lived for. (Before my mortgage, that is).
Through experience, I learned that one must purchase items on a trip that help sustain the magic of the trip long beyond after the plane lands in snowy Edmonton. My criteria: 1) the item must be used in every-day life (so as to always remind you there is a broader world) 2) the item must remind you of the scents, shades or sounds of the country visited and 3) most of all, it must be something that urges – no, compels – people to ask, “Where did you get that?”
Instead of answering “the Bay”, I would then share the origin of my latest adventure – Peru – Kenya – Thailand. Whatever.
So, when I entered the marketplace of Marrakesh, my shopping instinct flared alive. Here is where I’d find the magic item that represented Morocco.
It’s not an easy thing to identify – the magic item. Sometimes, one can get caught up too much in the pulse of the country, and the item can’t fit in completely back home. Examples of failed purchases include: a “sailor girl” dress from Mykonos (too girly for the Edmonton version of Roxanne); batik pajamas from southern Philippines (too cold for Edmonton nights); bright green capris from Costa Rica (too bright for Canadian fashion) and my black sundress with red flowers from Hawaii (more appropriate for pajamas).
But Morocco provided me with a scarf. A brilliantly colored green and turqoise blue scarf, laced with golden thread. Its length ran three times as long as most scarves, as it was the traditional length (i.e. it could be woven into a turban). It bordered on gaudy, as the colors were much brighter than I usually wore, but I took a chance.
And the interest I got was more than I expected. Strangers smiled at me in elevators, while crossing the street, after I got on the bus. Are they just smiling because I just looked happy? Delirious, maybe? But, no – it was the scarf. One time, I entered a restaurant and a table of women waved at me. I went over, expecting to see a familiar face as I got closer. But, I recognized none of them.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you mean to call me over? I don’t think I know you.”
One of the women smiled. There wer five of them, all in their early sixties. “No, we don’t know you. But we wanted to tell you how much we love your scarf.” They broke into laughter.
No one ever asked me where the scarf was from. But I got a greater gift. Such a little item – but it started conversations. Helped me find neighbours instead of strangers. And instead of setting me apart, the scarf from Morocco brought me closer to others.
April 6, 2012
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In the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling introduced the concept of Thestrals. Thestrals were creatures that could only be seen by those who had witnessed or touched by death. And of course, to those who haven’t been touched by death, Thestrals could not be seen at all. At the time I read about it, Thestrals seemed like a simple enough concept. A clever twist for a young adult fantasy novel. But, only recently have I understood how true this metaphor is in real life.
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