Who, Besides the British Uses the Word “Acquaintances?”

Posted: December 23, 2018 in author, book; books, communication, editor, epistolary, Fiction, literature, meaning, Musing, Musings, Novel, opinion, philosophy, relationships, writing

Wise Friend,

I went to Houston to meet some new acquaintances. I was there for a week.

Sensitive Friend,

“Acquaintances?” Who, besides the British uses that word? I find people expect me to call them “friends” since calling them “acquaintances” hurts their feelings.

Wise Friend,

I experienced the same. I can afford to be precise with you. Such a relief!

 

I

I toured Houston in stages.

On my way to meeting them at their office, by the tollway, all areas are flat. I lost my way, and I didn’t like the neighbourhood. I knew I was close, but how close?

I was driving back and forth under the tollways/freeways, faced with concrete strips and poles sustaining those strips. It was a dry image from a movie of cities without souls. I imagined myself living in Houston, and I already felt trapped for years in an unattractive city.

On my way back I drove again by concrete sustaining concrete, concrete running by concrete, concrete running under and above concrete. It wasn’t for me!

Also, I could not find even one classical music radio station or even one with political commentaries.

Sensitive Friend,

I don’t remember Houston being so dreary. Hmmm!

Wise Friend,

Next evening, Jeff, one of the guys, hired a 15-seat van and took us around, showing us Houston’s beautiful suburbs. The city has a lovely downtown, alive in the evenings. A stadium built downtown years ago revived the nightlife.

Its medical centre is humongous, a city inside a city. Hospital near hospital, a place to get lost and treated if needed. “If you want to be sick Houston is the city. It’s at the same level with Boston” (I hope we never would need that.)

Houston has beautiful architecture and stunning mansions on charming streets with wonderful gardens.

Some of their high risers have a very delicate design. The Transco Tower, near the Galleria, is tall and slim with vertical lines created by its relief and attracted me the most. It’s the tallest skyscraper in the USA outside of a downtown area. Whatever this means!

Jeff took us around golf courses, and parks, along jogging allays and walking paths.

I asked Jeff about classical music radio stations. He pressed a button and Voila! 92.1. He pressed another button—political commentaries!

It rains frequently, and therefore Houston is lush. Next day, I looked out of the windows their office. This was my fourth day in that room. This time I saw the greenery of this city—a sea of treetops from grey-green to bottle green and in the distance the elegant skyline of Houston downtown. The things our mind filters based on wants, fears and again those so self-limiting assumptions!!

By now, I warmed towards this city.

Many questions welled up. I concluded that I don’t know how to visit a place, that I need to return again and again, force myself to open my mind and with it, my eyes would open beyond my assumptions.

Sensitive Friend,

The same goes for some books. When I joined the Proust club in my city, I repeatedly remarked I had not read it correctly. I had read it differently. Indeed, I had noticed and interpreted things in a novel way from the others, but we all missed on parts, depending on our interests and background.

When I miss on details, guilt overwhelms me for at least 30 seconds.

Travelling, like fine arts, antiques, and music, requires experience continuous drilling, keeping in touch, and probably some talent.

It can’t be done from home, books or libraries.

(Photo – pixabay)

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