Tag: holidays

daily prompt

The Nearest, the Furthest

nhpureandsimple

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Back then in Egypt, many years ago, when I was just a child, my family used to take two different holidays during the summer. Of course, none of them were abroad; that wasn’t even in my dreams.

The first trip was always to visit my grandparents and relatives in one of the most beautiful cities in Upper Egypt. The train journey took about six long hours. By long, I mean really long, not like nowadays, when time slips through our fingers like water. Still, I enjoyed every bit of it.

Our journey didn’t end with those six hours for my grandparents were living in a small village about a two- hour drive from the city. Sometimes we stayed in the city for a few days to visit relatives, but then we’d head straight to that small, simple village where my grandparents waited for us in their big, old house. We usually stayed there for around two months, but of course, after the first week, my father would take the train back to Cairo for he couldn’t be off work for that long .

Our second long trip was always to one of the quietest and furthest seaside cities on the western coast of Egypt. We always headed there around the first of September, when the weather used to cool down a bit at that time of the year. We stayed for only one week, since school started by the middle of the month.

We travelled there by coach and always with a group of family friends from Cairo. The journey was just as long as our train ride to the south. Excited about the sea waves, colourful shells, and building sand castles, I always looked forward to this holiday, and I never minded the distance.

Strange how, many years later, when my husband and I took our first flight to England, we thought we’d be too far from home. But in the end, that journey turned out to be actually the closest of all.

Things depend on how you feel about a place. The furthest can be the nearest. The furthest can be the most exciting, the most unexpected. And sometimes, the furthest can be home too.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Don’t Follow This Reading Strategy

nhpureandsimple

I’m currently reading one of Henry James’ books. As usual, I knew about the book while reading something else. I read its description on Goodreads and decided to give it a go. The story is simple, and the characters are few and not complex.

Things seem good so far, right?

No, it isn’t.

I started reading the book last month, and I’m not even halfway through. Perhaps I picked it up at the wrong time. I mean, it’s the summer holiday, with so much going on. But no, that’s not why it’s taking me so long to finish.

The prose is my main problem. I can’t enjoy reading it. Whenever I reach an interesting part, the author starts analysing and exploring another point. Still, I keep reading, hoping the book might surprise me… or I’ll finally give myself permission to stop.

So far, nothing has happened, and that’s why I advise you not to follow my reading strategy because it’s just stubborn.

I usually read at night but this book makes me yawn, and my eyes grow tired  before bedtime. I decided to speed up the process by reading during the day, but my patience wore thin. There’s always other chores to do, and reading this book will be the hardest. I tried the audiobook, but my mind kept wandering to many things except the book. And then, I thought: maybe it would be better to make some change. So I picked up another book, hoping to return to the first one with fresh eyes and some interest.

As I was searching for another non-fiction book, I came across a medical one titled Love Your Disease. Have you read it? It’s a bit like “love your enemy,” but is that even possible?

By the way, it is not totally medical with scientific terms and theories. It’s quite readable, with real-life experiences shared by a doctor about his patients. But since it’s not fictional, and I am not a physician, I feel I can neither accept nor discuss the book. In short, after skipping so many parts, I decided to stop reading it.

So, I’m back to James Herny. No, it’s Henry James. And, I’m just as determined to finish the book as I am to never read another by the this author.


With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

The Noble Prince

nhpureandsimple

Have you ever passed by such a beautiful robin?

He was standing just like that— perched on the back of the rusty bench while my daughter and I were walking in the park. She saw him first and whispered to me, “Look, Mama, look at that robin.”


“Oh, so cute,” I whispered back, and we both froze on the spot— wondering whether to move closer or walk away.

We quietly moved closer, and—surprisingly— the noble prince remained on his throne. Whether it was humility or pride— he stayed silent, his tiny eyes seemed to watch us.

How I wished he would sing— something, anything. But he seemed to have no song. Still, we couldn’t blame him; it was such a grey, humid, and hot day.

At least we were honoured to capture a photo of the park’s noble prince.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

A flight will do, right?

nhpureandsimple

Think back on your most memorable road trip.

A year before the lockdown, during the Christmas break, my family and I went on holiday to a beautiful country in North Africa.

Can you  guess which one?

Excited and happy, we headed to Heathrow Airport, had a light meal, browsed around the shops, and finally completed our check-in and boarded the plane.

The flight was full. Passengers, as usual, were talking, laughing, yelling, and some were dozing off. The clicking of seat belts began, and as my husband tried to fix his, he realised that his seat was swinging. I stifled a laught, watching him trying to stablise it, but it was no use. It was broken, but the hostess assured him that it would be fine. No worries!

But worries I couldn’t avoid especially when the plane started taking off. It was the worst, and most violent takeoff I have ever experienced on a flight. The night was clear, and the weather was calm, so I couldn’t understand why things were not smooth. Once the flight disappeared into the sky, and dived into its deep dark waves, announcements of air bumps and turbulences didn’t stop. The plane started shaking, not slightly, but harshly, as if it was a toy in a spoiled child’s hands.

Praying, I did and tried to look cool like the other passengers. My daughter’s seat was next to mine, and we were both full of  fear and worry. When things calmed down a bit, she asked me to swap seats with her eldest brother. I did, and moved to sit next to my middle son.

‘What a great flight,’ he whispered, looking at me, and we both burst out laughing, but just as we started to calm down the plane suddenly dropped. Our hands locked as we sat back, clothing our eyes. A moment later, the drop stopped.

‘Are we going to die?’ He looked at me, laughing.
‘No, we’re going on holiday’.’ I smiled, taking a deep breath to get ready to the aircraft’s miraculous landing.

Thank God, we arrived safe and sound.

‘You have been making this trip quite a lot. Why didn’t you tell me how horrible this flight is? I asked my husband, as we hurried out of the plane

‘You know I fell asleep once I took my seat.’ My husband said, just as simple as that.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

Just writing

Not soft-drinks

nhpureandsimple

Years ago, I started taking my daughter to a tennis club. Of course, there would be a fun day for parents and children during the Christmas holiday. So far, so normal.

One year, at this sepical occasion, as I was sitting with my daughter, waiting for my husband to join us, a couple joined my daughter and me at the table. After “would you mind” and brief greetings, my daughter and I turned to watch others playing on the courts. So far, so normal.

It wasn’t until I heard the pop of some cans when I turned to the couple at the same table. I didn’t look at them; I mainly focused my gaze on the drinks which, of course, weren’t  soft drinks. Why? How? I wondered, feeling so angry. But that wasn’t becuase I, as a Muslim, felt I was the odd one out. No. That was becuase it was mainly a children event. Is this how people raise their children? How can you encouge a child to play sports and be healthy while you drink in front of them? I was deep in thought and didn’t realise I was gazing at the drinks on the table for more than enough. It wasn’t until my daughter grabbed my hand that I blinked and turned to her. ‘Let’s go and play,’ I told her and went to one of courts.

When my husband joined us, we went back to the table, but the drinks were gone. I felt a flutter of happiness, and turned to my daughter with a broad smile, but my daughter looked startled, glancing at the couples joining our table. I turned to see what was wrong. There, the woman was glaring at me as if I had slapped her. Honestly, I wondered if there was something wrong with her, a mental health issue. I gave her a brief smile, but she kept the same angry face. My husband asked me what was wrong. I shook my head and told him I had not the foggiest idea. But then, I remembered that I saw one of the coaches by our table when we were playing which means he was the one taking their drinks away, not me, but perhaps becuase of me?

After that event, my daughter continued attending her sessions, but we decided there would be no need to participate in any of their holiday events.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

daily prompt

Strange

nhpureandsimple

Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?


We often hear that men do not know how to cook, or even worse, their cooking is terrible, don’t we?

But isn’t it strange when you find out that they can, or can do very well.

Cooking is mostly one of everyday mandatory chores, but it can also be fun and a special hobby.

I still remember my father’s baked potatoes with meat. Although he mainly used basic spices, that dish was like nothing else- delicious. I remember he used to cook this dish, mainly, but not often, during the summar holidays. The aroma would waft through our house, making our mouth water. I remember how he looked so proud and happy of his achievement.

Strange how simple things, such as baked potatos with meat, can be carved in children’s memories. And, how strange that some parents deny their children such beautiful moments to relish later on when they grow up.

If it weren’t for the speciality of the chef, the love it was made with, and my family around it, I am sure that dish wouldn’t have crossed my mind for today’s prompt.

With all the best wishes,

Nahla

daily prompt

Heidi

nhpureandsimple

Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why?

Do you think Heidi, the girl of the Swiss Alps, would have been the same if her story started in a city by the seaside instead of the mountains? Let’s first imagine how things might have changed in her story.

Her gruff grandfather, instead of tending to his sheep and house, he might have been a fisherman. Her best friend, the shepherd, might be a sailor. The green scenery, the endless open green space, the towering mountains, the fresh air, the sheep, cows, and horses grazing around the mountains, and the free activities of climbing and hiking, might all be replaced by the different location.There would be the blue, endless sea, its close, reachable sky, its salty, fresh breeze, its rocky or sandy beach,  its boats and ships, its colourful marine life, and its free activities of swimming, diving, and sailing.

Both places are amazing, full of space and freedom. Perhaps Heidi would have liked her life in a city by the seaside. She moved in the first place to live with her grandfather, the only living relative who had time and space to look after the orphaned Heidi. So, she would love it anywhere as long as she had his company. But the story would not be the same. It would have a different beauty.

I think I would like ‘Heidi, the girl of the Swiss Alps’ more than than ‘Heidi, the girl of the ocean’, but perhaps both can enjoy a short visit to each other on holidays.



With all the best wishes,


Nahla

Just writing

The Tortoise and the Hare

nhpureandsimple

Yesterday I asked my daughter:

If there is a second part to the tortoise and the hare story in which they will decide to go for another competition, who do you think will win?

While she was thinking, i said in my head the Hare. Surely he would have learned the lesson. He would never think to have a nap under the same tree. No way.

The tortoise, my daughter said and i looked at her surprised.

How? I asked believing the hare would never repeat the same mistake.

The Hare will copy the tortoise and crawl all the way next to her.

Why? I asked still surprised

Because she had won the first race and he thought if he followed her pace, he would too

Any why do you think it did not work with him?

Because his legs hurt. He got different legs to those of the tortoise. So he became very very tired and had some rest under the tree and fell asleep again.

Oh poor hare! Surely he was very disappointed, i said

No, he was not, my daughter said

Why? I asked.

Because he wasn’t himself in the race this time, my daughter said

Don’t understand, i said

He was pretending to be the tortoise but this can’t be. He should be himself, the hare, to win, my daughter said.

Good point! I smiled

Children will always give us wonderful lessons.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla