Well, I broke my promise to myself and briefly got on Instagram posting a flower arrangement, pictured in a prior blog. The caption: ’ I am in seclusion but flowers and slippers are brought to me. Such kindness and fresh ones today. I am writing constantly and that is good.”
But what is seclusion? It word was used properly, according to my sources. The literal definition is the state of being private and away from other people. All of the synonyms seem most apt: solitude, retreat, privacy, privateness, retirement, withdrawal, purdah, an ivory tower, concealment, hiding, peace, peace and quiet, peacefulness, quietness, lack of disturbance, lack of interruption, freedom from interference; sequestration, reclusion, isolation.
That about describes this – I am in retreat, withdrawal, purdah, quietness, lack of disturbance, lack of interruption and sequestration. I had heard of Islamic purdah – the first wife of the Ruler of Dubai lives in Islamic purdah – the dictionary rather narrowly defines it so I shall not convey the meaning it provided.
It is rather doubtful that I shall remain in seclusion on a long term basis but it does seem to be what is needed at the moment. It is all rather ideal – food can be obtained from room service, MUD comes daily to clean the room and chat, two men come and fill the mini bar and flowers and slippers are brought. In a very strange way I feel most free. I do joke by text and Instagram about my situation. This to my Computer Guru Chris:
Me: Yeah – me again! I forget the name of the disease one gets when you cannot bear to go outside your house. I think maybe I got it. At least it is not contagious as there is no one to infect in my whereabouts. Now that is funny – will have to put it on the blog. This blog is admittedly dull but I rather enjoyed writing it and learned a great deal.
He: Did not respond but the writing was posted immediately.
I did actually remember the disease, Googled it and here you are: “A person with agoraphobia is afraid to leave environments they know or consider to be safe. In severe cases, a person with agoraphobia considers their home to be the only safe environment. They may avoid leaving their home for days, months or even years. Translated, agoraphobia means ‘fear of the marketplace. It is an anxiety or panic disorder.” Do I have it? Perhaps, I was haunted by a post traumatic stress disorder in the past – but no longer. .
Do not panic for me, World. Do nor feel sorry for me. It has been a relief from my sociability. Moreover I cannot stay cloistered in my resort room because my reservations cease and desist in a couple of days. I suppose I could go to the next place and go agoraphobic there, but I have to get there first. Fortunately, it is not too far away.
Perhaps it is not agoraphobia, perhaps I am cloistering myself. I shall now explore that concept. Cloister, used as a verb is seclude or shut away in a monastery or convent. That is not entirely applicable in this situation as this is Rixos Resort. – there is nothing like a monastery or a convent, believe you me! A cloistered life is sheltered, protected from the outside world and all of its influences. The Rixos resort prides itself on bringing everything from the outside world within its walls. It became rather disillusioning to learn that it encourages deviation from the faith. I do hope, that in the long run it will serve as motivation for good. In some ways, it already has.
Grandson does bring cheer by his texts. They rely heavily on emojis – most of which make me laugh and laugh. We were discussing my seclusion, which he approves of (by the way) mowing more than anyone about its inception. One of the things I like best about him is that it makes him so happy that I am so happy. Our texts went on forever and were funny:
Me: Darn fire drill in two days.
He: Okay where
Me: Here so I have to come out of my room. I laugh
He: Why you laugh?
Me: Because it is funny! I am sure fire drills are necessary but maybe they are doing it just to get me out of my room to see if I am okay
He: wow lovely Inssha Allah You are fine.
Me: I am so happy that that you said Insha Allah You are fine.
He: Thank you.
The conversation went on like this. Then he sent me six of my favorite emojis in a row.
Me: My favorite emojis all in a row.
He: Yes
Me: They make me happy.
Then what happened next?? He sent me a sticker. A unicorn with two hearts for eyes.
Me: This puts me ABSOLUTELY OVER THE TOP. A unicorn with hearts – my favorite of all time.
He: See I know.
He: How you are happy
Me: Do you mean why am I happy?.
He: I mean I know how I can happy you.
Me: You definitely can happy me. That is for sure.
He does happy me because he makes me laugh but at the same time can be very serious, particularly in matters of the faith.
It is now Wednesday morning and I emerged from my self-imposed exile yesterday. I voluntarily uprooted myself, dressed in Islamic like attire and began the day by going to breakfast. It was rather heavenly – the flat white coffee being the apex of pleasure. I hate coffee in paper cups – it tastes like paper not coffee. The breakfast utterly delicious – my favorite concoction consisting of avocado toast with a runny poached egg and a bit of hollandaise sauce. Ate fruit and to top it off had Turkish coffee and a Turkish delight. I told myself that I would be quiet and subdued – but was not. I even spoke to Russians who did not speak English – we all were laughing when I tried to explain that my name was Alexis, the name of the future Czar who was assassinated by the Bolsheviks. I pointed my finger like a gun and fired but they looked perplexed. I do love that word, it means completely baffled; very puzzled. Those poor Russian women were definitely mystified, bemused, bewildered, confused, nonplussed, disconcerted, dumbfounded, worried, at a loss, at sea, befuddled, fuddled, addled; flummoxed, bamboozled, discombobulated, stumped, fazed. They were flummoxed, bamboozled, and discombobulated and lost at sea over my pantomime of the death of Alexis (the not quite Czar). But they did understand that I had been to Russia and preferred Moscow to St. Petersburg. The staff were most happy to see me and I received many hugs. I had a long conversation with FOP – Favorite Originating Philippines, a Supervisor at the Rixos. We spoke of my need to regroup, to be alone. He understood thoroughly and told me how much I was missed by everyone. FOP knows a great deal about Abu Dhabi and provides me with very good advice about many things.
But there was somewhat of a set back which was posted on Instagram. The photo is attached and this was the caption. “Horror upon horrors! Came to breakfast in this Muslim country and found, of all things, a Christmas tree. I hate Christmas. The trouble with the Rixos Resort is that it tries to be something to everybody. One ends up being nothing to nobody, in my humble opinion. That is me in Muslim attire wearing Jimmy Choo shoes. Now if I celebrated Christmas I could not afford them. “
MUD and I had an interesting conversation about Christmas. She is a born again Christian but we agreed on everything. I shall recount it with her permission in a later blog. .
