The Peanut Cart

My last blog, "Mixology of Life" was a splash into the splendor of  a 7 star hotel, the Burj Al Arab, in Dubai. The glimpse into solid gold paneling, arcing water of fountains, a single red rose and a city behind glass was an indelible memory.Optics and resplendence aside, I still harbored a fascination, a craving for fresh roasted peanuts straight from the cart, at street level.       I was aware that anaphylaxis was on  the rise possibly due to increased sensitivities to air quality, food stuffs and water quality, but so too was the new medicine. Small measured doses of peanuts could be administered to the patient within a highly functional medical setting.A careful and thorough monitoring of all signs and symptoms was the safety net to walking the high wire of building a physiology of resiliency against the harmful effects of the nefarious nut. My father went through this treatment years ago as a solution for the ambulance in the driveway and completely swollen breathing passages following a bee sting. The little pollen pocketed yellow and black striped insects of the fields and flowers became just that, for my father and our family,  as opposed to precursors to an alarming and traumatic reaction that was as deadly as a  gun shot.       Ahh science innovations and the consequential conquests can be so endearing in the battlefields of human health care.Even the most genuine of peace lovers can appreciate that fight.

In Montmartre, Paris  steps from  the Basilica De Sacre Coeur the wrinkled , amiable and carefree countenance of the peanut vendor was as welcoming as spring rain after a cold hard winter.Sunbeams glinted off the metal bars at his back.The chiseled,smudged gray stones radiated warmth in collaboration with the earthy enticing aroma emanating from the pan on the cook stand.      The place swirled with illustrious visitors, enticing characters, no doubt,  who had the good sense to flip the page, and gather in the reality of the steps, the narrows and open spaces of this historic, well preserved, spiritually minted edifice. From  behind radiated spokes of the wheel, and the fitted block of his  cart the peanut man flipped, adjusted and attended to the roasting process with an attention and ease that made time stand still   -not like the time you were caught in the maelstrom, as is often the case, but similar to watching children play, an elder smile, or noticing dappled light on a forest path.       When he spoke, the words were clipped and decorated with a melodic french accent and meaning was dipped in the chocolate of clear and simple as he explained the process in depth. The fellow, tied with a fresh apron newly splotched and crinkled  in the centre, lingered over the idea of keeping the temperatures constant, and the consistent careful rotation of the denizen of the deep, the well rooted peanut. The result was a  perfect taste sensation,   cart caviar of the streets from this contented gentle man in a fastidiously  tilted felt black cap and a coat of cultural data.

The essence of his simplicity embellished the colour in  the scarves and clung to feathery fringes of  hairstyles of  passerbyers for an  upbeat, rosy feeling like the red nose fastened to a clown or the moment you decide to turn off the mobile, if only for 20min.       The quick fix of phones momentarily set aside to give your fave five, the senses, a moment to dial in and your 6th sense a chance to get a little exercise.  Hunter- gathers of information portals, content,stimulus and digital connections do not ever really nullify their tech , completely. These days  tech  enhances our experiences when it remains a complement as opposed to an adversary or companion for life.   I say this while still respecting the craft and pleasure of peanuts roasted near the steps of the Basilica on a blue sky day, as this is a reminder to change directions or at least slow the run to a walk for a moment.

People, sauntered  haunted  and raced through the ramparts, steps and structures  arm in arm, in captured stills, motion, emotion, and or poised for reflection.The heights were  alluring as in Dubai  but the city was Paris and the views were formidable in the light.We were out of the fishbowl, rather the magnificent aquarium of one city behind glass, as beautiful as a starry night.We felt , now, like birds on the wing or perched on the buttresses with pillars of stone and exceptional architecture framing  panoramas. You could reach out your hand and feel the breath of the currents that shaped the clouds overhead and brushed the objects below.      The windows on cities ,behind glass or open air, are a boundless source of amazement, and yes, I would say cities are the personification of agility for human habitation, when well planned.

                                                                               

The peanut vendor standing tall behind his rustic cart shared his visions, there, at ground level of a peaceful peopled zone. He would continue to wheel his roasted recipe of arachnids to this location and that around the city gathering the pulse of the places. Now he would, engage with others over roasted peanuts and glance over his the layered padding of his shoulders, eye to eye with  the Sacre Coeur,  in all her glory. She had his back. The ornate wrought iron fencing were monkey bars for child's play not barriers .  His joy,  love for life and comfortable space in the crowd conformed easily to his surroundings. He reminded me of an intricate, animate and carefully designed puzzle piece fitted into the masterpiece of  the most complex and breathtaking jigsaw that was his city.

                                                                           The Center