I am pretty sure that this is not how blogging is suppose to work. You are suppose to enjoy logging on a few times a week and posting things to keep people abreast of your faraway life. It sounds good in theory, and I do have thoughts all the time that I want to share via my blog but it seems like I never have time to sit down and write a proper post. So that is my preempt to this post of random thoughts and happenings.
Partying with Posh Youth
Recently we were invited to a friend's coworkers open house at his fancy apartment on the 50th floor of the newest and poshest buildings in the the city (the ones in the photo.) Even though the majority of the attendees were westerners, it was a true cultural experience. A look into a social circle that I know very little about. Early 20-somethings making more money than they know what to do with. One girl who was living in this luxurious apartment looking over the ocean was a 22 year old Norwegian designer. I was living in a 10x10 sauna that had been converted into a room with an electrical heater when I was 22! These were basically kids wearing very short cocktail dresses with very very high heels but....they were eating Doritos from the bag.
The Meeeses misses los niñitos!
My students are well behaved, they read silently for over an hour and they always do their homework. They are kind of perfect little creatures, but I have to say I miss my little Latino kids. I think I took it for granted how absolotuley loving they were. My kids here don't really hug nor joke around with me. I was thinking about how the my little Colombian boys would hug me, put their head on my lap while I read and, one kid would actually rub my leg and give me his approval of my shave job! I can't ever imagine one of my current students doing this! So even though my Colombian kids were loud, never read and started every sentence with "it's that"- they were spunky, lovable, funny and confident. And, I miss them!
Spring Break with Twenty 15 year olds...
For Spring Break in April we are going to Nepal on a service trip with the school. I have to say when we were first asked to chaperone this week long trip, I was more than hesitant. Why would I want to work on my holiday? But as we found out more details, we were slowly convinced. I would say the two main attractions were the fact that it is 100% paid for and that it is a really good opportunity to do some genuine volunteer work. So we committed and we will be heading to Nepal with 20 high school students for a week; 3 days of volunteer work and a three day back packing trip through a Himalayan valley. We will be staying and working at a small orphanage that was discovered by a teacher here at school while traveling. This teacher met this Nepalese man who had 10 orphans staying with him. When the teacher returned to our school he started fund raising and finding families to sponsor the orphans. Since then our school has done 2 trips there and has helped them build a house and now all the kids attend a private school in Katmandu. Our project may be to build them a garden. I am looking forward to this experience for many reasons but I have to say it feels strange to be responsible for other people and their money and their safety and their travel plans and their passports all in a foreign country....hope it goes well.
Being a Palestinian...
I have a Palestinian student, I have Palestinian co-workers and our little neighborhood rug rats are Palestinian. I have heard countless stories on public radio of the Palestinian's plight. I even did a project in university about Palestinian refugee camps. I know the history, I understand the situation. But it wasn't until this weekend that I "really" got it. We had gone camping with some friends who had brought their friends, a Syrian guy whose wife was Palestinian, they had both lived in the US for a long time. I asked if the kids had ever been to visit Palestine and the response made me realize that I DIDN'T get it. Because Palestinians don't have passports, they can't go to visit their country nor can they really leave the country they are refugees in. And come to find out ,the mom, despite being "Palestinian" has never been to Palestine. Because she can't. Because it is not a country it is a territory. My friend knows a Palestinian here in just this
situation. This Palestanian was born here but was not given a passport;
of course they are not going to give her a emirate passport, she is not
local but she was born here and not in Palestine. Which I guess means
she is stuck in some weird limbo land.These friends told me stories of old woman who still wear the key to their homes of which they had fled. They all hope to return to a land that is no longer theirs to houses that no longer exist. So I guess I did know this but it just feels and sounds so different when you actually here it from someone you know, someone who is living this 'news story.'
Old Dreams, New Year...
About a year ago I blogged about having a dream. A dream of wanting to make radio documentaries. In the post I wrote "I am only writing this post because Aaron read a Harvard Study that
said if you write a goal down you are much more likely to achieve it."Since then I have made baby steps and with each one of these steps I feel good like I am going after something. The truth is I am really busy with normal life crap, work, our salmon business and being my friend raph's personal assistant (wink, wink raph) but still I have made some progress. I have a long way to go but I have a few stories started and I am looking into getting some decent equipment and software. I may have even found a institute here that offers courses in this field but since finding it I haven't had a chance to go and check it out. But the new year has got me excited about it once again. And when looking back at my old post about this I realize that talking to certain people in your life just inspires you and I feel lucky to have those people.
The Borders Between Us.....
If you have ever applied for a travel or work visa you know that every asshole who works at an embassy in this department is in complete denial that their job is to help/serve you. They always make it seem like you are bothering them and that you should just call someone else or go somewhere else....hasn't anyone told them that it is in fact their job and they ARE the person you are suppose to call. Along the same lines they never seem to know how the whole process works, even though their main duty is issuing visas. Recently I have been helping our friend Raph (who is on a long distance bike trip from France to India) apply for visas. I, of course am helping him to come here which turns out not to be such an easy task for a Canadian who is coming from Iran on a Ferry. Yet, with pure determination I have found a local to sponsor his visit. We will see how that will go. (Have I mentioned that I, like most westerners, have very little contact with the mare 18% of the elite and local population) But finding a local to sponsor this French-Canadian cyclist was actually easy compared to what I have been going through to get in touch with the Pakistani Embassy to get his visa for that leg of the trip. I have been hung up on a few times, told that woman are not allowed to travel to Pakistan and then told they couldn't help me because they were very busy. I have a Pakistani mom who is now taking over for me, she was quite upset when I told how rude the people at the embassy were to me. She said she knows many people there and will take care of it. Now Raph is considering changing his route to avoid Pakistan, I hope he does!
Call for Prayer
It comes to us live five times a day from the top of the minarets of mosques but none more loud and more intimate than the 5am song. I wake to it each morning and now with the cold weather we have the windows open so we are that much more connected with the sound. At first I would wake up confused by the wailing sound but now I wake and find myself, in all seriousness, debating whether I not I thought it was a good one. I actually have said to Aaron, "Call for prayer was a nice one this morning, don't you think?"
Makdous
We have become pretty close with a Syrian family here and one of the many benefits of having them as friends is sharing food. They are our connection to the Arab world. And over the weekend they introduced us to these amazingly delicous tiny, tangy eggplants stuffed with walnuts, red peppers, garlic, olive oil and chili.
My Zatar is better....
Bring up the spice Zatar and pretty much every Arab will tell you that their country has the best. So if you want some, you just say to a Lebanese that you just had the most delicious Syrian zatar and they will gift you with a bag from their home country. We did just this, and now our spice cabinet is full of zatar, which is not a bad thing at all. Zatar is a mix of oregano, basil, thyme, sumac, sesame seeds, lemon peel....it is dried in the sun and then salt is added. You take the dried herb and mix it with olive oil and spread it on pita bread, IT IS DELICIOUS.
My cop car is a Mercedes....
If this doesn't say enough about this countries wealth maybe I should add that the beret wearing cops kind of lay back their seat snoop-dog style. Enough said.
Aaron, I and Ibraham
We started our kite surfing lesson and it was surprisingly less challenging then I had imagined. For some reason I thought once you had the kite on you would just fly away but they are surprisingly easy to control. On the other hand it was quite an experience taking a lesson from a male Arab who acted as though I didn't exist and communicated to me through Aaron. And, when he communicated he only yelled. He was very loud and abrasive. Needless to say we are looking for a new teacher.
My parking lot or should I say the gaza strip
There may be lack of photo for this section but believe me there will be photos. Our apartment complex shares a parking lot with about 3 other buildings. In this common space comes the children. The barefoot, loud mouth, dirty faced children. These children, like most, enjoy playing outside, being loud and kicking the soccer ball. But 'these' children, unlike most I've known, also enjoy throwing dates at me, and rocks, they like climbing on the roof of our car and haning out on top of it- as if it was their own private balcony. They also find great pleasure in torturing cats- which even for someone who is not a 'cat-person', is hard to watch. So, at first it was easy to hate these children as I strategically made my way from the car to the door trying to avoid being struck by a rock. Then I got pissed and told them in my best sign language and broken english that I-WILL-CALL-COPS! That didn't work so I finally approached a covered woman who I thought may be their mother. She told me 'NO ENGLISH' so I shamelessly acted out the fact that her six year old child was stoning me. She then started beating the boy. Then I felt bad and now it was a little harder to hate him. And, just the other day I saw the dad smack the little girl across the face with a closed fist. Then.....well then I felt really stupid for ever thinking that the kids actions were their fault....they are nothing more than products of their pain.
