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I was lost; there
was no doubt about it. I consulted the current Thomas
Brothers map for the fourth time and saw nothing that
remotely was recognizable as a landmark to tell me where I
had made a wrong turn, or was even close to where my
destination was designed to bring me.
Sitting in the closed car in
triple digit weather without the soothing comfort of air
conditioning, had brought out the worst in me. I had not
wanted to accept this assignment to help a friend that had
taken her child to an emergency meeting with the dentist
over a chipped front tooth after falling off of his skate
board. Her fledgling interior decorating company somehow
relied on my taking measurements of a curtain width in the
posh million dollar mansions of El Dorado Hills.
It was simply as I sat in the
car, I resented the fact that I was lost, that I had to
start at the beginning again. My hands extended to once
again turn the keys in the ignition, but nothing came of the
familiar purr and reassuring hum of the motor I expected.
Click, click and then another and still it did not turn
over.
"Oh no!" I can't believe this is happening to me, damn!" I
hit the steering wheel as though that action could relieve
my frustration. I was ready to wail and flail and curse and
moan.
I had not encountered a house with in a mile since the
beginning of this roadway, now what to do? Confidently the
simplicity escaped me at first with my tirade. I would call
my husband's cell phone! I rummaged in my purse for a few
minutes, then dutifully under the seat, with an immediate
picture of my abrupt departure, leaving the very phone I
needed on the kitchen table my husband had reminded me twice
to take with me before stepping out the door.
Sighing I decided to gird my loins, lock up the car and
strike out for the entrance of this maze I had woven myself
into. My every step made a clicking noise against the hot
asphalt and gravel roadway and I rushed to get to the shaded
comfort of the next Oak tree I could feel my cheeks turning
bright red, the perspiration dripping in long rivulets down
the backs of my calves and across my spine, tasting the salt
water of my upper lip.
"RRRRRR! I can't help it, I hate this!" I was beginning
again to slip back to the pessimistic banter. "Coming all of
the way just to measure a friggin curtain length for some
yuppie, and in the mean time I'll expire from heat stroke
all for the selfish..."
What I hadn't noticed before, going up the hill, was a cut
into the dark clay of the embankment. It immediately stood
clearly in my view and made me stop to examine it. A short
distance from the fine powdered country dust, a thin line
delineated the beginning of a circular extension of smooth
polished stones laid in octagonal shapes jig sawed one into
another to form a flattened cobblestone driveway effect.
Beyond sat a prominent two story grey earth color house with
a portico running the full length of the second story. "Lord
how could I have missed this one?" I asked myself, "I must
have been out of it.
Against the dark subdued walls on the second story, were
eight pieces of rectangle black cloth every four feet apart,
the material fluttering in the small breeze that seemed to
be missing me in its waft. The use of these dark rectangles
for a decoration I could not imagine until all of the pieces
of cloth turned in my direction at the same time and
shockingly revealed eyes staring in perfect silence in my
direction. My gasp was audible and reverberated against the
wall of the house with astonishing accuracy as an amplifier.
"Oh my God Arabs!" Neither of us spoke.
Did I approach and ask for help? Did I move on and chalk up
the colorful and unusual experience as another in my life to
tuck away in memories? But the treasure box had been opened.
I dared to make the first move and raised both my hands
toward them with a wave. I remembered somewhere back in a
history class that was a sign of friendship, showing that no
hidden weapon existed in the grasp of the one waving. An old
and traditional sign of welcoming and of trust. I received
none in return.
"What in the hell were those words.....Hmmm!.....Oh Yes!" I
bowed to the covered figures "Shalom a lackum" I expressed.
What the hell was it going to hurt me to bow my head?
As if by choreographed cue all of them immediately rose
without a word and disappeared through a carved double door
in the middle of the balcony. I was left with a totally
bereft feeling. "What in the hell, they can't even respond
to their own language or custom, why......"
A littler girl appeared suddenly at the open lower door on
the first floor and waved her arm enticingly as if to bid me
in. Now I had a rather confusing choice. If I entered the
house, was I going to be kidnapped, sent away, stabbed,
never come out again..... I took the first step forward and
made my way to the inside. The doors echoed their closure
behind me. I could feel the instant, welcoming cool air.
Large light colored tiles lined the floor and beautiful
banquettes of damask and silks lined the walls. Gold chairs
and tables held positions close to the seating area, and
across the top of the expansive walls, designs and
inscriptions delicately worked like peti-point Celtic
knotting with gold and dark blue paint. One of the veiled
women pointed to a seat. My open palms crossed one another
like a moving skull and cross bones with a sign of
disapproval. "I'm sweating, I don't want to get your
furniture dirty, if you have a drink of water and the use of
a phone." I put my hand up to my face as though holding a
phone and dialing for a number in mid air, slowly
enunciating my words of explanation.
Before I had finished my request, a large glass appeared in
the hands of the little girl holding an aromatic carved
wooden tray and to the side lay two pitted dates and a large
square of white creamy ingredients that resembled Divinity.
Delicate coffee cream hands extended from beneath the swath
of black, "Eeeeeatah." The little girl smiled and revealed
small corn rows of brilliant white teeth in perfect order.
"was this poisoned, put me to sleep, wake up in Arabia, or
the cellar? My fingers despite the questions reached for the
water and gulped its content dry. "Eeeeeatah" the word came
again from beneath the rectangle of black swath, etched with
delicate lace trim.
I reached for the dates and tasted the sweet plump sticky
meat. The little girl pointed to the white square and I
picked that up as well and began to nibble the sides. It was
better than divinity, it was heavenly and aromatic like a
bouquet of roses had sacrificed themselves to make this
square I was enjoying. The little girl tugged at my pant leg
and allowed me to see that a phone was within my grasp. I
walked slowly and all turned to follow my movements.
"I think that I have stumbled into a harem," I told my
husband when he finally answered the fourth ring. I don't
know where the heck I am." I gave the directions how I came
to be where I was, and what the house looked like.
There was a small rift of chatter in a musical dialect that
was entrancing. I thought of Scheherazade telling the 1001
tales in this language to the Pasha in order to save her
life.
In due time the sound of a car was heard outside. I gave my
appreciative thank-you's. The little girl ran to the door
and opened it and allowed me to leave. It was my husband. He
drove me to the car and it started with the usual
reliability. He began to snicker, then an audible laugh.
Follow me he asked, I'll show you the way out.
Had I bothered to go in the other direction in the first
place, there was a mini mall and a pizza parlor on the other
side of the hill As well as a telephone, But then had I gone
in that direction, I would not have had this adventure.
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