Just got home after having a bottle of wine and some intense exchange and conversation with one of my best friends, Remo. He is working like crazy, and I am working like mad, the only difference is that we do not do the same kind of work. He works as legal counsel for a well known – very well known – Swiss firm, and I am exercising my skills in German composition and getting paid for it. Whatever…
In our discussion it occurred to me that I have all of a sudden discovered a real interest curiosity in how this French presidential race is going to turn out. I was in Strasbourg when Ségolène Royal got the nomination and I got hear of it because my hosts were following the process with some interest. Now the wild fire running loose in technorati after le web 3 makes me really wonder what is really going to be the outcome of this parody on politics. But I love politics, really do. It is one of our – human culture’s – most misunderstood abstractions. I also love the French, really do, and I do not mean the wine, nor other degenerate interpretations that you may conjure up. I have a whole bunch of family in France, and lots of good friends.
Paris is home away from home, however I have been missing Bahrain lately. It is Christmas time that is approaching, and the best exit strategy out of the European or American holiday season psychosis that I have ever found was to go to Bahrain. There, I met on more than one occasion some Indian or Pakistani fellow dressed as Santa Claus, and that brought this bit of culture tolerance to a point. In particular when said Indian or Pakistani Santa dressed in red starts to distribute Christmas presents to very arab children with Muslim parents wearing the traditional garb of abaya (I also wear one of them, but only when in the Gulf) and thobe. The parents nod approvingly and I am led to think that they see is as cool, the kids think that is even cooler. Gifts! No wonder that I miss Bahrain most around Christmas. That, and the fact that is nice and warm there then, not bloody hot like in the summer.
In clearing the buffers from a full day, but not an exhausting one, I need to add that when I returned from morning Aikido training I was feeling something that I would either describe as narcissistic or the taste of the Buddhist hedonistic treadmill. Simply it was good to feel that it was my muscles wrapping and carrying my skeleton as a whole, no pain anywhere, and I felt as light as a feather.
Tomorrow is already here and I – the mercenary – have quite a bit of work to do until the end of the year. Luckily enough I can do it piece by piece, one day at a time!