ROMANCING THE STONES

ADULARESCENCE

Moonstones from Sri Lanka

Sometimes in the quest to find therapeutic ways to heal our bodies, we forget that its not always science,  but more of nature that remedies the pain.

We live in a world of  vibrational frequency.   Everything around us vibrates at a particular frequency.  This frequency is related to the movement of the atoms of our physical world and it changes overtime.  Even through the course of a day, your own vibrational frequency will vary.  The vibration frequency of Moonstones enhances intuition and promotes inspiration.  Moonstone is used by healers to stimulate the functioning of the Pineal Gland.  The gland produces several important hormones including Melatonin.  Melatonin influences sexual development and sleep-wake cycles and balances the internal hormone cycles with nature's rhythms.  

Sri Lanka is the classical country of origin  of the Moonstones.  These gems are characterized by an enchanting play of light, the mysterious shimmering which always changes and looks different when the stone is moved is known as “adularescence”.   

The quest to find its source has taken me to Hikaduwa, a beach town 80 miles south of Colombo, where Herbert, a Christian Ceylonese admirer of a long lost era in my  Karachi days, has offered to take me to Moonstone mines.

These mines are not huge, a single establishment is not more than 100 sq ft.  There are plenty of muddy holes scattered around.  I watched the process of digging, sieving, washing and polishing.   And I am grateful for the bracelet on my wrist given to me from a dear friend - for the beauty of it gives me emotional strength as I wear it daily.

Love Cakes

Herbert and I stopped on the way back at a friend's tea estate, Madhur and Samesh, for tea and cakes.   They had just celebrated a family wedding and  I was given the most delicious Ceylonese "Love Cakes" I have ever tasted.  These are passed around as part of the ceremonies.   Their particular brand of tea was the freshest and could not have been more exhilarating.

Back in Colombo, the night was still young and a little cultural entertainment was in order.  Herbert decided Sri Lankan dance would get me into a mood, for what I am unsure but I went along for the experience.    The dance  was heart pumping, captivating, colorful  and full of seduction, and I knew then that  rekindling our friendship would delay my return home.   

Without doubt the healing properties of Moonstone on the Pineal Gland did change hormonal levels.  I had a fitful night sleep.

CASABLANCA - NOT THE MOVIE

Casablanca  in Spanish means White House.   Not the Pennsylvania Avenue White house, more excitingly Morocco’s business and industrial capital.    Of souks, lamb tajine and scary bearded looking men, quite disturbingly, all the houses in Casablanca seem to have pinkish and orange tone.   

Facing the Atlantic, Casablanca from the air as Ethihad banks left descending into Mohammed V Airport with early morning sunrise making the sand dunes of the Sahara dessert take on a reddish orangey hue.

Somehow Casablanca, because of its movie association of a love story set in a night club gambling den of Ricky’s bar , did not prepare me for  its Islamic sensibilities.  Walking around the city wearing a scarf around my head was necessary as we were visiting the  Hassan II Mosque.  Unveiled in 1993, the Mosque built on both land and reclaimed land from the Atlantic Ocean is that King Hussan believed that God’s throne is on the water so that those coming to pray, to praise the creator on firm soil, at the same time contemplate God’s sky and ocean. 

Hunger is creeping and having been promised a true Moroccan dinner, Café Maure is just around the corner.   It promises to be a true Moroccan meal with lamb tajine  and chicken cooked with pomegranate molasses.  Washing down this tasty tajine isn’t what one would expect.   Moroccan’s do not drink alcohol.  So although the tajine would’ve gone down well with a bordeau but on offer was a delightfully refreshing mint tea.  

Crushed mint is brewed along with a pot of  black tea and poured into glasses stuffed with fresh mint leaves.   

Chicken with Pomagrante Molasses

Chicken with pomegranate molasses was superb.  Grilled Chicken pieces swimming in a dark brownish red tart sauce,  mopped up with thickish unleavened bread.  Very messy, and alarmingly addictive – just could not get enough.  My stomach said no, but my brain kept egging me on for more. 

Carpet store in the Souk

Incidences occurs when you least expect it.   Living in a world of considerable freedom governed by democratic evolution and modernistic social customs, what I witnessed in the market of Marakesh did take my breath away.  For I used my own values, and compared it against the local customs.

The intricate walkways and paths within the souks were in itself like a maze.   Look left, and there was a tea merchant selling tea in gunny sacks, look right, and a shop with Tajine pots. It was teeming with people mostly bearded men, in their white tunic and women in burquas. The scene was colourful and mesmeric until I saw a beautiful Russian model, extremely fair complexion wearing a blue strapless gown, leaning against a mosaic door being photographed.   It was a photo shoot, seen a hundred times over in places like London, Paris or New York.  The backdrop was an archway leading to an Arabian tearoom.  Surrounding the model were makeup artists, stylists and a multitude of people fussing around.  To the photographers back, a huge crowd of young pre-pubescent boys encouraged by older men jeering at the model – whipped out their privates and started an activity usually done under blankets and giggling at the same time.   No adult put a stop to this.   The model posing sexily was unaware that her nude shoulders were causing emotional turmoil amongst these young boys. 

Realization within the photo shoot team quickly put the episode to rest as the model was whisked away to a secure place and the incident passed without confrontation. The crowd dispersed averting what could have been a very unpleasant outcome.

Beduoin Tent for the night

On the way to Rabat, although only a few hours away, it was more exciting to go the longer route to Fez  which would have  completed the Moroccan experience with one  night in the  Sahara dessert sleeping in a Bedouin tent 

complete with Camels.   The Bedouin toothless chief offered 1000 camels as exchange for my beautiful and exotic companion from Thailand.  When the proposal  was declined, the bargaining went as high as 50,000 camels.  My companion sighed, if only each camel were converted into Ferraris or Porches then there might have been a consideration, toothless or not.

Nothing prepared me for the pitch darkness with only the stars as my guide, and the errily wind gushing in the cold.  Before turning in with a  hot flask of almond mint tea I share with you the sights and sounds of the most astonishing place I am about to rest my head. As I roam the earth in search for breathtaking sites, I am humbled by the insignficance of me against the beauty of our planet.   Tonight with the wind howling, a small sand storm moving in,  the vastness of the desert, I am at one with nature.