Festival Hotel

Once upon a time, not long ago, there was a peaceful city slumbering on a beach, accommodating the dreams of its inhabitants. In cosmopolitan Nari, Christians, Muslims, and Jews lived in peace, drinking from the same spring and contemplating the same sunset. As a boy, the narrator witnessed the city's golden age embodied by the Festival Hotel—Nari's mecca and pearl—run by the two Jews, Haim Leveneur and his seductive wife, Nisa. The velvety era, the stories of the guests and the tales of the employees, the mystery of the forbidden worlds behind the walls of the upper class, the glitter of its nights... But things are not taken at face value in cities cursed by names, attributes, origin, and separation. That dormant volcano was bound to erupt one day. The sea breeze that once caressed the gilded curtains of the festival soon turned into a storm that uprooted the Jew, followed by the Armenian and the Christian, just as it twisted the neck of every lover who dared to follow his heart into the hotel walls. The narrator witnessed all of this, and his dreams remained attached to a small pearl, which was all that remained to him of his lost paradise. The one that would soon return to him and bring him back to it whenever he moved away. The one that he would follow every thread that led him to. The one that might have been a monument of imagination and passion... In a notsodistant past, there existed a mythical city resting on the shoreline, cradling the aspirations of its residents. The cosmopolitan city of Nari was a place where Christians, Muslims, and Jews peacefully coexisted, sharing the same resources and gazing upon the same breathtaking sunsets.

As a young boy, our narrator witnessed the city's golden age, personified by the Hotel Maharajane, the crown jewel of Nari. This establishment was under the capable stewardship of a Jewish couple, Hayim Levi Hanur and his captivating wife, Nisa. It was a time of splendour, teeming with fascinating tales of guests, staff, concealed worlds within the elite class, and the hotel's enchanting nights.

However, life in cities with complex histories is rarely as idyllic as it appears. The dormant volcano lurking beneath the surface eventually erupted. The gentle sea breeze that once graced the festival's golden curtains transformed into a storm, uprooting the Jews, followed by the Armenians and Christians, and saving the dreams of lovers who ventured within the hotel's walls.

The narrator witnessed this transformation, with his dreams tethered to a small pearl—the sole remnant of his lost paradise. This pearl held him in his grasp, guiding him back whenever he strayed, offering solace for his imagination and unfulfilled yearning.