Yesterday afternoon I went to an antique dealer’s home. Isa is someone I have known for years but we have never spoken more than ten words together. Usually we see each other at the international antique fairs where her hand is often holding something extraordinary and my hands are itching to have it.
She is one of the best hunters at the antique fairs.
The other day I saw Isa at a flea market. I broke the silence and asked her if I could come to her home and take some photos for a magazine. "Oui bien sur! Sans problem." She said willingly as she touched up her flaming red hair.
I walked away rubbing my hands thinking of the wonderful things that I would see Chez Elle! I imagined 18th century Provencal antiques the type of antiques I have seen in her hands over the years. Small unusual delicacies such as religious relics, ivory chest pieces, gold thread lace, miniature oil paintings, things that Louis 15th had touched…You see Isa has a knack for finding the most amazing, impossible, incredible antiques… Antiques that have price tags on them that make my bank account look like bubble gum money.
But nothing, nothing could have prepared me for the mouth dropping experience of what I was about to see. Isa’s home was not at all what I had expected. When Isa opened the front door to her home my eyes rolled out before me and I said in English, "Holy Shit!" (I shocked myself red!) Thank God she doesn’t speak English bad mouth!
You know I felt like Alice in Wonderland except I was riding the Orient Express and my plain Jane little self seemed so so so soooooooooooo BORINGLY typical by comparison. I fell in love with Islamic art and color yesterday…and please tell me how I am ever going to look at grey white walls again?
Honestly, Isa’s home seems to have belly dancers, ya ya sisters and mint tea pouring out of the every inch and nook and cranny. I literally stood speechless for 15 minutes and didn’t breath.
To say it was a feast for the eyes just doesn’t cut the mustard. It was alive, on fire, like a heart on a plate begging you to grab it and stuff it in your chest, and scream, "This is livin’!"
I should have known by her shoes that Isa was not an ordinary woman.
The endless stories, the countless details, the names of artists, styles, period of pieces washed over me as I sat and stuffed myself with her charm and exotic-ness. I simply could not contain everything she said… So I sat there drinking her in and loving every minute of it.
…even the kitchen sink spoke of another world far far away.
I took over three hundred photos of one room only. You might say these photos are the tip of the mosque!
Unbelievable! Oh and let me tell you her bathroom! I could die happy there, honestly I could. A sunken tube lined with enormous seashells… there was water in the tub and it was filled with flowers. I looked at Isa and asked, "Do you always leave your bathtub full of water?" She shrugged her shoulders like I didn’t understand and walked away.
"Golly gee I am in for a wild and wonderful ride!" I laughed. Isa tugged my hand and said, "The train is moving are you jumping on with me or not?"
I am I am I am…………………….
Photos: Chez Isa. Islamic art and history. More to come as I absorb the experience of my new friend who talks a mile a minute and makes me feel alive.
Notes:
Travel North Africa here and here.
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