Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to write this post. This is me in 5 minutes. Even as I type, I should be packing and making hotel reservations. Still, I can’t resist leaving a few words for my fans and friends. I am going to Morocco and Greece for the summer. This will be a great way for me to change my mind set. People who have never left the country cannot imagine how insulated their thinking becomes. It is simply impossible to understand what a different culture feels like until you experience it. Just the smells of the Greek countryside, with its abundance of basil and oregano bushes, and its olive covered hills, is something that changes you. I am grateful for the many decades of multiculturalism I have been exposed to. I believe it reflects well on my fiction. It has taught me to look at the world with different eyes. It reminds me, even now, that the world is a much bigger place than TV or the Internet has the capacity to show. Without the Greek isles, I would certainly never have become a naturist. Dropped into a world where attitudes toward nudity are radically different, it is amazing how quickly your own attitude changes. Walking amongst ancient ruins, I have been awestruck and humbled by the very true fantasy that is human history. Of course, Morocco, with its ultra-conservative Islamic yet heavily influenced liberal European culture, is a thing to experience first hand, a clash of French, Spanish, Arabic and Berber peoples trying to make sense of the world they live in. The bazaars are a labyrinth of handmade treasures that would not look out of place in Medieval times, except when you run across the guy selling computer chips. Naturally, the beaches are crowded with fully dressed men and women casually strolling the sands. Yes, I have lived extremes, and that is pure mana for a writer. Going on a trip is not without risks, however, so if something happens to me, if I don’t come back with a post sometime by July, you’ll know I am a goner. If you are reading this and this is the case, please do me a favor and publish my damn book. Like the caveman at Lascaux and the pharaohs of Egypt, I’d hate to have lived and go unremembered. So in case you don’t know me, my name is Nick Alimonos. I’ll leave you with this . . .
Reblogged this on The Art of Storytelling and commented:
I am leaving again, back to my wife’s home country of Morocco. Hopefully, while I am there, I will find some meaning and purpose to this tepid existence.