(no subject)
(Written on the plane, trying to distract myself from the edema thriving in my feets - the curse of all my travels.)
I always try not to show when I can’t understand someone through their accent. I wasn’t sure if she said folk reader or face reader or maybe even palm reader, but I nodded understandingly. I had seen her putting her forehead to other partygoers throughout the night, but I also saw her scratching someone’s palm and rubbing an Israeli’s big toe. The beach north of Tel Aviv had a calming effect and after a few champagnes, I wasn’t feeling like it was necessary to interrogate her about her reading procedures.
“Ok, let us begin.” And she looked somewhere around my jaw line, the one feature that rarely generates criticism from my own self. “I can tell that you love to learn. You are always eager to see why something is the way it is. To go to new places.” The inflections of her accent tripped me up a bit, and it wasn’t the first time that week that I noticed how similar the gruff H’s of the Hebrew language sound like French. “You are interested in people, and art, and design.” She checked my jaw again, investigated my slight butt-chin, and confirmed this, “Oh yes, you love design. May I ask what it is that you do?”
“I’m a student and I work in post production.” I simplified, dumbed it down for the sake of language barriers. I didn’t mention that at the present time, I work in the office and the main appeal for pursuing my father’s profession is the salary. She seemed to agree with this heartily and continued, “You love to plan, you have a brain that loves to organize and manage. You are very good at managing people…you have a personality that is commanding and good for that. Good at public speaking, managing.” This I confirmed; my planner is an extension of my body and I get some boring pleasure in watching the days fill up with to-do lists and time brackets and appointments. I am always the one with a written record of tour schedules, other peoples' flight times, only allowing the input of new appointments to be written in caps with either of my two favorite pens.
The possible gypsy stroked my cheekbone with the back of her fingers, and seemed to take delight in what she saw there. Her eyes got very squinted, “Your family is very important to you. What you lack in friendships, you value with your family. They are a large part of your every day life. You do not waste time on those without quality.” She checked my eye sockets, seemed pleased by their holdings and said, “You have very good taste. You really appreciate the finer things in life. Things of quality, this is very important to you.”
She rubbed the length of my left ear until I had goosebumps, and smirked accordingly. “You have boyfriend?” Yes. I was hoping for some mystical insight here. As she stared at my self-conscious ear she said, “Yes, you have a wonderful relationship, I see this. He loves you greatly and you share a strong, mutual respect for one another. He treats you very well, respects you very much.” I nodded in unison to her head-bobs, confirming her sightings of true love in my ear canal.
Her pinky skied down my nose, and she began to look very disappointed in me. She scowled at the handiwork, “You need to watch what you eat and put in your body. It is not that you do not eat enough, you do. But eat well.” Not expecting this one, I gave a hesitant nod back. “You need to eat more vegetables.”
Very good Gypsy lady, very good.
I always try not to show when I can’t understand someone through their accent. I wasn’t sure if she said folk reader or face reader or maybe even palm reader, but I nodded understandingly. I had seen her putting her forehead to other partygoers throughout the night, but I also saw her scratching someone’s palm and rubbing an Israeli’s big toe. The beach north of Tel Aviv had a calming effect and after a few champagnes, I wasn’t feeling like it was necessary to interrogate her about her reading procedures.
“Ok, let us begin.” And she looked somewhere around my jaw line, the one feature that rarely generates criticism from my own self. “I can tell that you love to learn. You are always eager to see why something is the way it is. To go to new places.” The inflections of her accent tripped me up a bit, and it wasn’t the first time that week that I noticed how similar the gruff H’s of the Hebrew language sound like French. “You are interested in people, and art, and design.” She checked my jaw again, investigated my slight butt-chin, and confirmed this, “Oh yes, you love design. May I ask what it is that you do?”
“I’m a student and I work in post production.” I simplified, dumbed it down for the sake of language barriers. I didn’t mention that at the present time, I work in the office and the main appeal for pursuing my father’s profession is the salary. She seemed to agree with this heartily and continued, “You love to plan, you have a brain that loves to organize and manage. You are very good at managing people…you have a personality that is commanding and good for that. Good at public speaking, managing.” This I confirmed; my planner is an extension of my body and I get some boring pleasure in watching the days fill up with to-do lists and time brackets and appointments. I am always the one with a written record of tour schedules, other peoples' flight times, only allowing the input of new appointments to be written in caps with either of my two favorite pens.
The possible gypsy stroked my cheekbone with the back of her fingers, and seemed to take delight in what she saw there. Her eyes got very squinted, “Your family is very important to you. What you lack in friendships, you value with your family. They are a large part of your every day life. You do not waste time on those without quality.” She checked my eye sockets, seemed pleased by their holdings and said, “You have very good taste. You really appreciate the finer things in life. Things of quality, this is very important to you.”
She rubbed the length of my left ear until I had goosebumps, and smirked accordingly. “You have boyfriend?” Yes. I was hoping for some mystical insight here. As she stared at my self-conscious ear she said, “Yes, you have a wonderful relationship, I see this. He loves you greatly and you share a strong, mutual respect for one another. He treats you very well, respects you very much.” I nodded in unison to her head-bobs, confirming her sightings of true love in my ear canal.
Her pinky skied down my nose, and she began to look very disappointed in me. She scowled at the handiwork, “You need to watch what you eat and put in your body. It is not that you do not eat enough, you do. But eat well.” Not expecting this one, I gave a hesitant nod back. “You need to eat more vegetables.”
Very good Gypsy lady, very good.