The voice of a Sunday in Grenoble

Sundays to me feel especially relaxed and laid back, which is why I enjoy finishing up some work that has to be done for the upcoming week, most probably because stress is minimized; people stay in bed all day and most shops are closed.

It’s usually pleasantly quiet. As I was working on my laptop, reading up on some faint concepts of brand management, I squint at my paper, tracing my notes, trying to glue the information to my head, when I suddenly hear a voice coming from outside my dorm-room. Immediately thinking it’s either my upstairs or downstairs neighbor, I don’t really pay attention to it.

I go back to my notes, still hearing the voice coming from somewhere I can’t really point out, I start recognizing a very familiar tune.

In a rush of unexpected disbelief, I drop my pen and hurry to my balcony, as I was hearing an Arabic song that I had recognized, called Fo2 el Nakhal. I tried to be very quiet in order to know where the sound was coming from, and whether the person was in my building, as I still managed to listen to him sing the entire song.

As quiet as it was in a little street in Grenoble, France, not many engines running or people talking, the only thing you could hear was his voice echoing in the quiet street. I stayed outside for about two minutes with my feet firmly stuck to the cold floor, tip toeing from the third floor of a student residency, trying to see if this person was on his balcony.

It was heartwarming to hear the familiar tune, even though I’ll never be able to link a face to the voice, but for a second a Sunday in Grenoble felt a lot like a Sunday in Beirut.

 

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