The first sugar packet read ζάχαρη γλυκιά σαν την αγάπη μας: sugar sweet as our love. The one behind it: “sweetheart”, the one behind that “oh sugar…honey, honey!” Bringing up the rear was “Σε γλυκοφιλώ” — I am giving you sweet kisses.
Sap overflowed at my solitary breakfast, as the sugar packets conspired to make me long for a cup of coffee across my own. This is the kind of moment that had not been possible for me in Cairo or Jerusalem. Tea arrives at the table in a cup free of its handle and it is already masboot: sweetened to the point of tooth decay. That, and sugar packets do not encourage kisses or call breakfast-goers “sweetheart” in the Middle East.
In the story of there and here, I am still in between, perpetually in transition. Eternally Nostalgic. That is the name of my new column over at Equals Record, where every Wednesday I will be exploring questions of memory and forgetting, attachment and loss, home and away. An excerpt from my first column, out today:
I have the kind of wandering eardrums that long for Colombian salsa in Kosovo and Greek music in Guatemala. I have the kind of fickle tastebuds that long for arepas in Uganda and falafel in Mexico. All of me is punctuated by a serial infidelity to place; enamored as I may be with where my feet are currently meeting the ground, I will let the senses wander to the other places they once called home.
For more on my serial infidelity to place, wander over here. I’d love your suggestions on what you’d like to read about and any other feedback you may have. Until then, I’ll be here in Greece, between billowing curtains and golden seas, sun-kissed hair braids and affectionate sugar packets.