Gaza

Difficult to watch the news or read the papers. Might it be even worse for a victim if he/she is blamed for it (while the world watches) than to be a victim with nobody noticing?

Someone at work today said- they can't play well together in the sandbox- implying children of equal age and size fighting over something trivial. The power is not evenly distributed- the bully is beating the smaller, weaker child who has been starved and subjected to psychological abuse and who has been born within the confines of this sandbox (almost literally- sand and a wall/fence/border packed with people but otherwise empty) with little chance to leave.

For those who think the two sides are equally responsible- open your eyes and ears, read the papers from any country around the world, look at the data (numbers), ask yourself who among humanity would choose to live the life of a Gazan as it is presented in the media (violent people being difficult- fighting for more and never satisfied- nonpeaceful) and who has been suffocated and is gasping for air.

shades of gray

We are young and are attracted to color- what is your favorite color? It's never gray or beige or nondescript. It's something bold or primary. Red! Blue! Pink(!) (pink is the exception here)

Then we become jaded. And what I see that means is that the world turns gray- not puke green or even dirty brown- but shades of gray. Things that were black and white no longer belong to one camp or the other- no enemies or friends, no with us or against us, not even a dark side and the force.

It is not an unlikable gray but a place many are uncomfortable with. And I would even venture to say that you earn the title of adult (maybe of enlightened adult) when you accept the grayness of the world.

Someone told me an old Buddhist saying- when we are young, the mountain is a mountain; when we are a little older, the mountain becomes something more; when we reach a certain level of enlightenment, the mountain again is a mountain.

A mountain all the same, but perhaps a little grayer.

acupuncture oohs and ohs

I started some acupuncture treatments for my oh-so-sensitive skin. All's well until today one needle goes into my stomach area- my abdomen- and a sharp pain makes it's way through to the left side of my body. Mr Park's reply- oh that's very unusual.

He tells me to cut out dairy- how is that possible- cut off my ears but don't ask an Arab to stop eating cheese and yoghurt. I had a soy latte in my short-lived attempt to try it out and it made me want to cry (and spit up).

He also told me to not eat after 6pm. Say what?? 6 hours of no food and go to bed hungry?! He hadn't even asked me when I go to bed before setting a 6pm curfew. Why torture myself? I told him my big meal is lunch and I have something light in the evenings- toast and tea and... He chuckled! Toast is not light- he laughed at me!

One yoga thing I heard recently and appreciated- the way you do one thing is the way you do everything.

So you do everything and you take what you want out of each. My approach. Alice in Wonderland's too I would think...

You could have expected it- a night shot of downtown- the bottom where the island tapers and tapers and then ends. It looks like it drops off into the black night.

One of- what- thousands and thousands of pictures of the New York City skyline at night?

But how many people have stood within a few centimeters of where I stood- there in Hoboken- at the same time of night? How many at the same point in the season- nevermind the weather?

We are- each of us- living lives that will eventually dissolve into the great history of humanity- leaving no trace. But our lives are still our own and different in the light or angle or subtle textures. A second perfect flower doesn't minimize the beauty of the first- a field of flowers needs no defense.

sub-standards

Chocolates on sale- now only 7.99!! New marketing strategy- charge more??

How whimsical!

People in line looked nervous when I took a picture. I find things like this so amusing it's really a surprise I'm not more carefree and happy-go-lucky in life.

Is it not beautiful? The buildings on the margins look like they are leaning in towards the center- like the clouds are so magnificent they have altered the gravitational center of the earth upwards. No small feat when it comes to the Empire State Building.

pictures of the girls

by popular demand (trust me)...

introducing Bayaan:

Iman and (Build-a-Bear) Stephanie (from Ohio):

Rawan taking a moment to meditate (chanting ommm) while her mom straightens her hair for the special occasion:

Iman and Rawan in response to "pose like adults":

They look like the American Gothic painting by Grant Wood (without the pickfork).

the girls (on Bayaan's first gift from Khalto Rana):

And their creations- first Iman's coupons (more like gift certificates)- note the bar codes. The one she made for herself was a "going to bed early" coupon while she gave her sister a chore ("making the table at dinner")!

The video game she created (with different "screens" for the different games that you can flip in and out of place and the two player joysticks).

And Rawan's mini table (with a turkey on top you can't see) and chair (made of paper)-I love miniature things!:

the mini theme continues: this mini birthday party tucked away in a corner of the room, the entire thing set in the molding around the room (what is that called?)- my favorite part is the the banner that says "happy birthday monkey boy- name Duncan", but I love the mini-streamers and the mini-presents all lined up, carefully hand-crafted one by one

They are constantly making and playing and singing and going and going and going and cooing over their sister (Rawan: ooohhh, you have the cutest little socks on, yes Boon-Boon).

niece clips

Rawan (5 years old) sees the space shuttle landing and says: I want to go on that thing- what is that?! My sister replies: it's the space shuttle. Oh yeah, I've heard of that- it's like this kind of rocket ship. (Even though I've heard of kids wanting to be astronauts, it was cool to see that pure interest in this thing that can be easily mistaken for an airplane.)

Iman (7.5 years old) is obsessed with Build-a-Bear. She knows prices and latest releases and absolutely everything about the online site. She says: I gave fedback. ?? She corrects: feedback. They asked if I was completely satisfied but at the cashier (pronounced casher) there were like 7 people in line and nobody there!! I look over at my sister and she has her eyebrows raised- the first she's heard of her 7-year-old giving feedback. But with Iman it's hard to be surprise. She pulls out a box: this is my build-a-bear mailbox. She saves every piece of mail- birth certificates and catalogs and (!) letters she has received in response to her questions (where can I get my bear restitched? Build-a-bear hospital!). She offers to tell me about each piece of mail but something distracts us.

Bayaan discovers her hand. And relative to the magnificance of this discovery says little (nothing comprehensible). Here she is discovering the hand...

thanksgiving

I'm bubbling over with thanks. The little bubbles are bursting and releasing little poofs of sparkle, much like synaptic vesicles spontaneously being released. They add up in the background where you don't even realize it- it determines your levels of excitability. I'm excitable!

a gesture life

It was not- by any stretch- a bad book. But it was only as good as a book about a detached older man can be.

No, I take that back. If anyone has seen (or read) Steve Martin's Shopgirl, then clearly that's not an accurate statement.

Let me start again. It was a story with strong character development but was of a character practically devoid of emotion. And while I appreciate how well the author explained how this mancane to be as he was- orphaned in a sense and through horrible war-related attrocities (what else can war bring with it?)- I cannot say I related to the main character, the protagonist, the hero.

Perhaps if I read this book at a later stage in my life I will better appreciate the pensive near-death feverless acceptance of life, but now it leaves me a little bit annoyed with the character and wanting him to pull his head out of his arse. Did I mention that it reminded me very much of the style of the Japanese writing of the English butler- what was that called? Stiff and cold- but well written and smooth reading.

It seems it has been a while since I read anything that absorbed me- not my mind but - what I can only refer to as- my soul. Perhaps it will take the discovery of a new favorite author- a new sea of tropical waters to explore. Perhaps it will take a reresding of one of Coetzee's or Oondatje's bests. Double vowels seem to be the thing to keep an eye out for- something with an aa or and ii or strangely a uu. Suggestions- as always- are welcome.

the view from here

Some pics of the view from work. Not from my desk, but all the same spectacular. And this wasn't even a sunny day. Even Jersey City is beautiful from this high up.



The Statue of Liberty is also visible- I can't zoom in with this camera, but you get the idea...

woo-hoo

WOO HOOO!!!

I think you all know what I'm talkin' about.

(sigh of relief)

shoes and girlfriends

I have been wearing the same pair of black shoes to work practically every day for the past three months. I've added brown shoes to match my one pair of beigish pants but wear the black pair 4 days out of 5. Give or take a day.

Well just last week I was admitted into the pack at work. Two women with whom I work- on two separate days- independently commented that they like my shoes (the black ones). It couldn't be more obvious really- three months after starting, I was given what amounts to as an unspoken hug, an enfolding into the bosom of the family.

Time to decorate my desk-take off me shoes, so to speak- looks like I'll be staying a while.

it almost made me cry

I am proud to announce the existence of a movie from Jordan made for a
global audience (that is my own definition of the movie). I have not
seen it, but the preview to the movie almost made me cry. I can't
imagine what the movie will be like.

Check out the preview/info: Captain Abu Raed.

I saw this around the time of Eid, the Islamic holiday. I spoke with my family in Jordan, and while nothing exciting was going on, I started to realize that the life I had there, the one I associate with Jordan, no longer exists. It is not that I am absent from it and can go back for a little taste of it if I buy a plane ticket for the right season- it is dead.

My mother's family used to get together for Eid on the first day (from what I remember) of the holiday (it's a 3-day holiday). We used to all (except for those with grudges or against whom grudges were held)get together at my grandmother's house. She and/or my aunt (as my grandmother got older, it was mostly my aunt- who lived with her) would prepare a big stuffed lamb. The day before, my uncle would buy it, and there would be a lot of shuffling of things in the fridge as space was made for it, gathering of pans, measuring of oven widths, etc. My aunt (I remember this more clearly) would chop up a lot of onions, and almost knead spices (and I think lemon or vinegar) into the onions- allspice, black pepper, salt, etc. Then the lamb was cleaned, rubbed all over with the onion-spices, and left in the fridge to marinate.

Of course, all sorts of other things were prepared on the side-delicious grape leaves and stuffed mini-zucchinis over a bed of lamb ribs- nobody made those better than my aunt. And salads and maybe mnukhiyah (the green sauce, as my nieces call it). And when the food was put on the table, my uncle would cut and serve the meat. And there were plates of yoghurt and pickles and olives scattered around the table.
The table too full of food to fit our plates comfortably, but we would manage. The kids delegated to eat elsewhere- in the informal living room (for the little ones) or near the dining table in the formal living room (for those of us who were older).

The afternoon would be spent eating- after lunch came tea, then fruits, then coffee and desserts. The desserts hold a special place in my memory- the pastries filled with pistachios or walnuts, sprinkled with powdered sugar, or with dates. And the Eid chocolates, waiting for guests in the crystal covered bowl, that we would take
right before we left.

Even though we had seen the entire family on the first day, we would later that day or the next day make the rounds to each of the families' houses for a short visit, where we would get tea and those pastries again (and you could compare and choose whose were the best)and then coffee and chocolates before you left.

Now, my family gets together on the second day (the first day the families go to their other side). They meet in (one of) my deceased aunt's house, and the lamb is purchased already prepared. It's not the same. It'll never be the same.

So, I felt homesick for the home I left, which no longer exists because the people do not reside there and because that life has, as with everything eventually, died.

It was those memories, together with scenes of Amman, together with the anticipated Eid dinner at the home of a family friend (for them, that life has not yet died), that made me homesick. And even if I probably could not get to the neighborhood in which the film is set, the seemingly endless hills of Amman, they spoke my language and they reminded me of home.

organic milk

Can anyone explain to me why organic milk lasts about a billion times longer than regular milk? It's amazing. I had one container of organic milk, bought about 2 months ago (scary, maybe) and one container of regular milk (well, in reality it is lactaid, but I've seen this numerous times with regular milk), bought about a month ago (also, maybe scary).

Lactaid bad, organic milk good.

Inexplicable...

lapel pins

I love Obama, but a double flag pin??

http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=20281881

Since when is Israel the official second half of the US of A?

Does this not bother anyone here?

Since we're on the subject of politics, a couple of points from last night's VP debates:
- I thought Biden did a great job when he used the word "maverick", he did not skirt around it, he took it on and showed how ridiculous it was. If they want to pretend McCain's a cowboy, well, I guess they need to see how absurd it is to hear others call him a cowboy.
- Palin tried to pull out her aces, using the "I'm from a cozy little state" and "I'm down with the people" and all of those little trick that seem to work on the American public. And Biden was right there with her- talking about his family, but not in the same tone. And from what I saw on tv today, when his voice cracked yesterday when he talked mentioned his late wife and child, the Palin audience boo-ed him. Didn't anyone teach them maners? Respect your opponent, have some integrity, all of that?
- I love the fact checking that Biden did. Palin wasn't in a position to do that- she doesn't know enough of the history. But Biden could call her on each of the mistakes- and could point out that for the very same thing she was accusing Obama of having voted badly on, McCain had voted the same way. She didn't finish her homework- she only looked up the encyclopedia entry on Obama!

farewell, olsson's

When I met Olsson's, I fell in love. I was loyal, dedicated to buying books from what I believed was one of the three stores of this local chain. Yes, there were jokes- I supported the local, independent bookstore, which was becoming a local giant with more like 8 or 9 stores. But still- a local DC chain. And I was smitten- I shifted my affections to now loving a successful, growing, local bookstore.

Well, the store in Georgetown closed, then the one in Bethesda closed. And I have to admit- I began to roam- B&N and Amazon became more attractive, more convenient.

I visited the Chinatown store when it closed, not long ago. The only stores left were those in Virginia. When I flew out of National, I would go visit the Olsson's there- but I didn't go to Virginia often. We drifted apart.

And then the final notice- Olsson's is closing for good.

So it ends.

empire state building celebrates

The Empire State Building is celebrating Eid al Iftar. I think that's
great- and was a little surprised to hear it. Apparently it wears a lot of dresses it wears:
http://www.esbnyc.com/tourism/tourism_lightingschedule.cfm.

Check out the little footnote:
During spring and fall bird migration seasons and particularly on cloudy, humid and/or foggy nights, when large numbers of birds are seen flying near the building, the tower lights are turned off. Observatory personnel on the 86th floor outdoor deck notify the engineers. The birds are attracted by the lights and there is a danger they will fly into the building and be killed.

Eid Mubarak.

Introducing Bayaan

Here she is at one month. Precious! Big eyes, apparently blond highlights. She looks a lot like Iman did at her age.

Rawan wanted to eat and was told to wait just a minute until my sister finished feeding Bayaan. Rawan says: Bayaan is always eating. She's more important to you than I am.

Wow, a 5-year-old who can so easily express her feelings!

When Rawan was born, Iman (2.5-years-old) just said- we don't need her, why don't you throw her away...

birthday wishes

My 5-year-old niece and I have been having a funny little exchange over the phone regarding her birthday present. Her birthday was planned as an outdoor party, and because of rains from Hurricane Ike and the challenges of having a newborn in the house (her new little baby sister!), the date of the party was uncertain. So, it was difficult for me to plan to be there, and I tried to convey this to her on the phone.

Me: Rawan, I'm going to try to come to your birthday party, but I am not sure I can make it because you don't know exactly what day it will be.

Rawan: That's OK. If you can't come, you can just send me my present in the mail.

A practical solution. But it's not that she didn't really care either way...

Me: OK, but I'd really like to be there with you on your birthday.

Rawan: Yeah, me, too.

Me: Rawan, what would you like?

Rawan: Anything!

Me: Did you ask your mommy and daddy for anything specifically?

Rawan: No. You just get a present, and you open it, and you see what it is.

Me: OK, so you want it to be a surprise.

The follow-up conversation where we talked about the details of the present exchange after her party.

Rawan: You can just send me the present in the mail or you can bring it when you come for Eid (the Islamic holiday). But you can send itin the mail- that way I don't have to wait for it.

Giving me options, but sharing her preference.

Me: OK, tonight when I get home, I'll go online and see how long itwill take to send it to you.

Rawan: OK, but you can just go to the store, and buy it, and, and,and put it in the mail. That way you don't have to wait for it.

A pause as I think how funny she is in her subtle ways.

Rawan: But you can go tomorrow because today when you go home you maybe tired.

Me: Oh, Rawan, you are so sweet.

Rawan: Why? I didn't do anything.

when to touch people

During orientation, HR says there are two times it's OK to touch someone at work.

One, with a firm handshake.

Two, when someone falls, you can ASK them if it's OK to help them up.

That's more like one and a half times. Since we don't greet our co-workers daily with a handshake, here's hoping for more falls at work.

New Jersey

A few more thoughts on Hoboken, New Jersey. I'd say it's not as polished as DC/Bethesda. Of course, this has to do with what part of DC you compare to, and so I'm comparing to the areas that I've lived in- Georgetown and Bethesda.

- There are a lot of people who smoke. Young people,young mothers, deep voices. It fits my idea of "new jersey culture", but it's pretty sad to see.

- There are a lot of parents (particularly mothers) YELLING at their kids in the street. Not for anything that needs yelling- no kids running into high-traffic streets. No, this is just communicating through YELLING instead of talking. Wow, almost makes me turn around and tell the mother to zip it- if you can't use your indoor voice, keep it shut.

- The upside of less polished are lots of family-run stores and restaurants. I've already mentioned the Italian population, and there are Italian delis/bodegas/ba'alaat (in Arabic) on the corners of streets in the middle of the neighborhood. You see signs written on posterboard "On vacation until August XX". There's one Indian store that looks like it's run by a band of sisters, and I can imagine that it's just them sitting around deciding what to add to their merchandise. I think I've already mentioned the coffeeshop I like- a young woman who made the price list at home with sticky stenciled letters (she told me in confidence- don't spread it around). Some chain fast food places, but mostly mom-and-pops and independent places.

It turns out it's hard to maintain the mom-and-pop even in Hoboken. There's a Barnes and Noble (kind of in keeping with the atmosphere of Hoboken, it's kind of cute and compact and cozy). There is also an independent used bookstore. However, in order for this independent bookstore to survive, the mayor's office or family or something actually helps support it financially- it's subsidized. Kind of funny, kind of sad.

Still likin' it!

Oh, and didn't even realize there was a tornado warning- never thought of tornadoes in NYC!!

Hoboken

Now in Hoboken. It seems everytime I say Hoboken, I get a comment on what a funny name that is. Turns out, according to the source of all knowledge (the internet), it is either from the name of a Flemish town or from a Native American (sorry, can't remember the tribe) word meaning something about peace pipes or something.

Here's the place (pre-moving in).



Livin' on Park Ave...



Here are some things I've noticed about Hoboken:
- There are a ton of funeral homes. There seems to be one on every other corner, practically. Considering Hoboken is a mile squared (that seems to be something everyone here is very proud of), that makes for a LOT of funeral homes. That might be related to the next point...

- ...which is that there are a LOT of old Italian babushkas (yes, I know that's Russian, but you get my meaning) wearing cute floral print cotton dresses and sitting on their doorsteps and cute little old Italian men wearing all sorts of great hats and belts up towards their necks.

- There is a shortage of good coffee shops. There are two (and a half) Starbucks- the one closest to me is the half- it's not open yet. Not sure what's going on- it's been in the same state for the past month. I've found one excellent coffee place (great espresso foam that makes you melt), but it's at the other end of town (yes, I know, it's only a mile squared) and, more importantly, doesn't have any tables. So, you can sit along the windowsill, but it's hard to spend a lot of time there reading or writing.

- The aforementioned coffeeshop is owned by an actress/artist want-to-be, apparently, which turns out to be a good part of the population here in Hoboken. So, the next point is about the diversity of the population here. I'm not sure how to say this in a PC-appropriate way, but it's obviously not just white-collar (like I'd say Bethesda almost exclusively is). It's different socio-economic classes, different colors, different religions...

- There are a TON of Christian churches of all types. Seventh Day Adventist in Spanish, for example, which I'm not sure I've seen before. And all sorts of Christian scenes on people's doorsteps and in their front windows- there's one I need to put up a picture of. Stay tuned. There are virgin Marys in a bunch of gardens, etc. There are also a good number of synagogues, but as far as I can tell, no mosque. Well, unless it's in a regular building, definitely no mosque.

Settling in... Cute place, amazing views of NYC. Check it out...

why Guatemala

This should be the last Guatemala-focused email. Then I'm ready to move on to the newer things in my life.

People asked me "Why Guatemala?". (Note that with slightly different punctuation, it could be "Why, Guatemala?", in which case I'd choose my nickname to be Guati.)

Simple answers:
- I could get the visa quickly. When I got my visa, it was the simplest process ever (second only to not needing a visa). The embassy is near Dupont Circle (easy metro ride). The website did not work, nobody answered the phone, and the email bounced back. So, I headed off to the embassy to inquire, taking with me my anticipated necessary paperwork. I showed up at the desk, was not asked for any of the just-in-case paperwork I had brought, and I was told to come back tomorrow to pick it up. Oh, and super cheap. And in the end, I told her I wasn't sure when I wanted to leave, so she gave me the visa starting that week for up to three months. Easy caneezy.

- The country was relatively cheap, making it more affordable to spend two weeks without many restrictions (any restrictions?).

- Spanish-speaking, which meant I could at last practice my Spanish. And the Guatemaltecos speak slowly and clearly, relatively to many other Spanish-speakers. It made it pretty easy to get around.

- Spanish classes are cheap and are one-on-one instruction with a teacher. Doesn't get much better.

- Never been to Central America.

Well, you get the picture. It's actually hard to pick a country to go to out of a hat- although affordability does really make half the decision for you in the end.

take that, martha

Beth, Juliana's mom, has this trick for serving potato chips straight from the bag- scissors only required to cut a hole. It was a hit, for sure.

civil war

The effects of the politics of a place on its people interests me, not only because I am Palestinian, but because I'm fascinated by how it affects the psyche of the people, the culture. In Guatemala, I think much of the violence and the crime are remnants of years of military rule, of the recent civil war, and of course, poverty.

I asked my host family if they knew anyone affected by the civil war. It turns out that their daughter-in-law's parents were killed. They lived in a town near Antigua. Both of her parents were teachers and were leftists/relatively involved in the political situation. They were missing for a few days, and then the mother of the woman found them in the woods behind the house, only their hands showing through the ground. Were they buried that way so they could be found? Or because of negligence? This is how I imagine them in the ground.

This was one thing I was not used to. Others included the landscape- I am from a land in which you can see far and wide without even trying. When we were going from Santa Elena in Tikal, in the subtropical rainforest, the rainforest had been cleared (slash and burn) for agriculture near el lago Peten Itza. And then we got into the rainforest, into Tikal park, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (check out the list of 851 properties here). And then my view was obstructed! I remember feeling claustrophobic after a few days in Asheville, NC because I couldn't get a view over the tree line. Well, in Tikal, we did get some excellent views- either from the tops of temples (maybe the Mayans also felt claustrophobic and decided to build high) and when we went zip-lining. On the way back to the airport, I loved the open space- as sad as slash and burn is for the ecosystem.

themes

Some obvious recurring themes.

Flowers:











                   




Fruits/vegetables:







            


Breakfast/lunch/dinner:




                              

Drinks:

            



Dessert:





Yum!