I arrive in Medina, and I can now understand why it is called the “radiant city.” Sunlight shines down brightly over the bustling streets and it’s hard for me to even catch my breath among so many people. The heat which beats down on the ground is suffocating, especially to someone who is not accustomed to it like myself. Nevertheless, I try to soak in my surroundings as much as possible as a mindfulness activity. I take note of the narrow pathways lining the main road and peer down one of them to see what’s down there. I see the remnants of brightly painted buildings that have been bleached by intense light exposure and overhangs decorated with foliage.

Amidst all the noise of busy sidewalks and scattering feet, I recognise the sound of my own stomach grumbling. I check my personal timetable to see if I can adjust plans to accommodate my hungry belly.

“It’s a good thing I left extra time,” I thought out loud to myself, “looks like I’ll be able to have an early lunch after all.” I ask a local for directions, then hurry my pace to arrive before the lunch rush.

I find a restaurant which is relatively close to the Masjid al-Nabawi, or the Prophet’s Mosque, and take my seat. I order the special of the day, a Pakistani dish which has beautiful imagery on the menu. I take in the smell of swirling spices in the air, coating my palette with bursts of Middle Eastern flavor. When I was younger, I never dared to experiment with such daring tastes. Now that I’m older, I find myself embracing all different flavors and treat them as their own identity, a character fabricated in my psyche. I enjoy my vibrant meal bursting with reds and golds and splashes of green, and quietly observe the personality and culture of the people around me. Sounds of clattering of silverware and dishes in the kitchen, sizzling pans, and people conversing blend together to form a steady rhythm. I began to focus on the patterns of noise so much that the isolated sounds became nearly indistinguishable from each other.

More often than not, I am out of the house. The love of exploration took me by storm and I can’t imagine ever going back to bland atmospheres and repetitive scheduling. Of course I appreciate the idea of settling down and creating your own home, but there’s just something so intimate about large crowds in an unfamiliar country or wandering down the unbeaten path that’s so attractive and appealing to me. Though I have already made my pilgrimage to Mecca in earlier years, I could not help but still be curious about the Prophet’s Mosque.

After my hunger is finally satiated, I resume my journey to the main attraction; the grand mosque Masjid al-Nabawi. Stepping out into the street, I see the tips of tall spires pushing through the skyline. Eager to see the mosque, I scurry through the streets and call a taxi.

I arrive shortly thereafter and am completely astonished by the immensely detailed architecture of the Masjid al-Nabawi. The mammoth of a building towers over all the people surrounding it, making all of us feel like ants. The first thing my eyes are drawn to is the green dome, formerly known as the Al-Qubbah Al-Khidhr’, which caps the center of the building. I used to hear stories that over its lifetime, the dome has changed from a dull wood color to white, then blue or purple, until finally being painted an olive green. Sandy arches line the front wall, and the ground is littered with tall columns hiding lights in their centers. It’s all a lot to take in, really. I’ve made it just in time for the Duhr, or afternoon prayers, and I can’t wait to see what’s inside of the impressively crafted building.

I make my way through the crowd and get through the doors in order to see for myself what lies within. I gasp upon entering, it takes my eyes few moments in order to focus on the bright, glittering gold which lines every pillar. The hallway is ablaze with richly colored carpet, and the entire room has an extraordinarily regal feel about it. Lights lit up the room with such vibrancy that no corner could be darkened. The hall itself covers a vast area, and I can barely even see the end of it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it never ends at all. The palette of the room is a simple combination of gold, black, and white, with flourishes of burgundy and navy, yet the elaborateness of the patterns is highly unique. Arabic writings are inscribed across all the walls in a print that is so painstakingly graceful.

I catch myself in awe and try to regain focus to get to afternoon prayer. So far, my day has been excellent and I can’t wait to see where I’ll be taken tomorrow. For now, I will appreciate my bewilderedness of this city and keep moving to my next destination.