“My stay would happen in 3’s. There were many times I passed this hotel. On rides to the University, or mere walks to the cafes, nearby. Yet, it would take a few more years before she would enter.”
These words are very familiar in recounting my meeting with the Spanish rose. But my entrance into this enchantment, occurred on the night where the triple deity comes to her karmic duty. I have always felt fresh, and comforted in restaurants and spaces that embody stillness. My many dates with Makani, on a street, where the numbers of woman’s mystery and karmic endeavors merge dances; as lights, the screams of car horns, and the presence of human laughter caresses the most gentle of cafes.
It is a favorite of mine, where soothing music, in all its forms, gives me hope and restoration of my spirit. Sitting there, and simply enjoying the environment, I meditated on quite a few songs that were being played. Celine Dion’s, “All By Myself,” Christine Aguilera’s “I Am Beautiful,” Ellie Goulding’s “Burn,” and others that blessed the space. I had stopped in the Marriott, just to see the price for a standard room. I needed to relax. This summer had been a tough one. It as time for a change, and I needed to be in some place special, where I could pretend, at last, that I was on vacation. Hotels have that magic, and power, of creating this fantastical illusion. At least, you can feel as if you are somewhere else. And that is what I needed, at least for that time.
As I was sitting in Makani, writing in my diary, I became intrigued with the playing of the song “People Helping People,” by Birdy. Its one of the songs that I often played for my students, during their journal time. My dining at this restaurant would soon come to an end, and I would have to decide on the space of hotel residency for the evening. There was one, in particular, that had come to mind. I had passed it many times, but never had I entered. But that night, I would enter.
Checking into the hotel with merely books, room 402 certified 8 as my magic number. The interior workings of the room served as a mini-palace. Intimate and cozy in all of its grandeur, it truly embodied the sensuality of a Spanish dance scene. A carpet, that sang the color and allure of the Spanish rose, herself. To walk upon the kisses of her lips, served to transform the carpeting into your own personal dance floor. Traces of golden trim decorated the bedding. Brownish-golden pillows added more décor to her vibrant, yet natural, mystique. And draping the “eyes” of the room are golden curtains. If you are lucky, you get to witness her Spirit practicing on the liquid stage of the Nile. And like all feminine bodies, who are masters of movement, they make their mark somewhere and somehow.
In the room that nourished, and presented the number 8, I felt the freshness of Mother Earth’s winds breathing new life into my Spirit. Tired and in need of cleansing my physical being, as well as my invisible. There is nothing more rejuvenating than entering a fresh room, where auras of previous spirits have been cleansed away. Creating a symbolism that welcomes originality, and “the new thing.”
The first night at the Flamenco Hotel served as the first step in creating a new harvest in my life. Showering and washing my hair became more than a “daily routine” of what “needs to be done,” especially when living, working, and studying in a city as hectic as Cairo. For that moment, it was time of washing away lead, archaic energies, which had no place or purpose for the new, dirt road; leading to a cobblestone-ridden path of my enchanted garden. My purification ceremony felt as if “the past” was to live up to its name. I felt clean, void of the city’s toxic energies and unnaturals, I felt what it meant to purge what was no longer fruitful. I could feel my body becoming massaged in room 402. And room 402 was jus the beginning for this double dynamic of a triple experience.
The movie, “Seven,” was on that night. Laying there, and enjoying the comforts, I was heavily engaged with the ending of the movie. The sin of “wrath,” and being confronted with the option of forgiveness. But that moment was not the time for such thinking. Right then, I simply needed rest. To lay there, and enjoy the moment of being comforted. I intended to work, but that could be saved for another day.
Breakfast was from 5am-10:30am. Now that would be an intriguing experience. During times of feast, we have the opportunity of meeting new Spirits from far away lands. I could meditate on those future encounters. Until then the worries of my present, complexities of the past, and solutions of the future could wait. I was in the presence of the now! And those sultry rhythms of the tango dancer, and her presence alone would serves as an auspicious reminder of the tour into her world. As the dutiful host that she is, I rested in her chambers. Feeling the safety of her aura, I laid my body to rest in my first night in La Flamenco Hotel!