You know how it feels like when something is so familiar and so cherished yet so new and different? When each alley has a memory and each shop window has a history in your mind? When you reflect silently on how time took its toll on a place that really had a very important significance in your life, just as it took its toll on you?

~

Today, uncharacteristically for someone as in love with my car as myself, I decided to make use of the wonderful mood I’ve been in recently and walk to the post office, which is around a kilometer away from our house through Thaqafeh Street.

It’s been a while.

Infamous for its retarded planning, there is no other asphalt that my feet have pattered upon in the world as much in my life, way before it became Thaqafeh Street, when it was just Share3 Jabri.

While walking those eerily familiar steps today, I felt like I was floating. I have taken this route a hundred million times in my life, starting very early on when I was just a child- way before Fastlink ever came to existence and before the Chili House family had a fight giving way to Chili Ways in that little corner restaurant that I spent so much time at as a teenager. Way before I knew which was the gas pedal, when I was a little girl skipping on the street’s sidewalks to Tom and Jerry burger place which was not yet replaced by Burger King. Way before Power Hut came to be, and when there was an empty plot of land where Standard Chartered stands today.

You see, my grandmother’s house, where we spent all our summers since I was a child, is right behind that Standard Chartered, and the street was my endless source of entertainment; the video stores, Frosti, Istiklal Bookshop, Qahwet il Farouki (where they had an internet café that I used to go to almost every day), Fun Directory, the pharmacy where I kept getting my ears pierced, Piccadilly Supermarket…

Today, as I walked down the street, it felt weird walking down a street so familiar yet so new- most of the places I grew up with either don’t exist anymore or have moved their branches elsewhere in the neighborhood. You see, I need to go through this street to really go anywhere, so I have been driving through it daily for the past four years, but there’s a different feel to while walking, as there’s enough time to take in every detail which once was and every detail that now is.

What was once La Chez Dor, the hairsalon where I had some of the very first haircuts of my life, is now some kitschy coffee shop (I wonder what happened to Reema, the hairdresser). Piccadilly Supermarket is now replaced by a H&H, a modern chainstore with big glass windows and bright neon lights (I wonder what happened to the old grouchy 3amo who owned Piccadilly). A record store that sells 1JD music now stands in place of the pharmacy (I wonder what happened to Marwan, who used to think I was crazy for piercing my ears so often). Istiklak Bookshop moved out of Thaqafeh Street several years ago and into a calmer area in the neighborhood (they still gives me discounts). Fun Directory closed its post office branch and opened a much larger store right next to Standard Chartered (I still use my grandmother’s account). The video rental stores all have signs that say “Store for Sale”, thanks to the pirate revolution (I never liked their owners anyway).

There are some things that didn’t even slightly change; things that have looked, smelled, and felt the same for as long as I remember. La Terrace Restaurant is still as empty and as yellow as ever. The post office is still in the scary narrow alley (the post office is now French though), and Lebnani Snack still stands next to it, a little forest like place in the middle of the street. Qahwet il Farouqi’s and its internet café still sit there tiredly, with dirty upholstery and the delicious aroma of vintage coffee. Most importantly, Frosti hasn’t changed much, not even the icecream flavors have changed, though the price of an icecream scoop isn’t 15 piasters anymore.

On my way back, I made use of the newer facilities, I stopped by Aramex Media Bookshop and browsed through their book collection, then I opted to buy the book I was looking for, “Sharq il Motawaset” by Abdul Rahman Muneef (recommended by a person astonishingly dear to my heart), from a little kiosk instead. I stopped by H&H and bought some Loaker because it reminded me of my friend Sara, who I haven’t seen in several days and I realized I miss her (sam3a ya benet?) I smiled at the skateboarders, who have made the street their home in the past few years, as I passed by them.

Just as I turned the corner out of Thakafeh Street and got a glimpse of our home, which I also passed everyday, except then it was always just an empty plot of land, and it hit me that after all these years, the place is still the same, just an older more tired version of itself, serving as the source of entertainment for a different generation. I also realized that deep inside, regardless of all the changes, I’m really just that little girl trying to get over my crossing the street phobia and stopping by Piccadilly to get a drink for the road.

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