Back to Sarajevo

Emira and I arrived back in Sarajevo no worse for wear about an hour ago. Since the bus station is in the middle of the city, I got a better look at the main part of town on our way in, and it was interesting to compare to the one we'd just seen.

On the way down, Emira and I talked alot about the ravages that war placed on the town, and it's easy to see. There are many many buildings with large chunks (and small bullet holes) pock-marking the facade. There are even apartment complexes with perfect circles where grenade launchers hit them. I was surprised that these buildings were still standing - as I guess I'd always thought that buildings that had been hit with anything larger than a bullet would immediately collapse. Indeed, I stand corrected now, as most buildings are still in tact, they just look heavily acne-scarred. You can guess it does not make for such an awe inspiring landscape.

Dubrovnik, of course, sees more tourists and, as I understand it, was not heavily seiged by the Serbs. While our guidebook claimed six months, Emira hotly denies this, stating that it was only TWO weeks and that fourteen people lost their lives. It's hard to get an objective view on things (although I'm of course, predisposed to believe Emira) but a nice outline can be found here.

Because the Old Town in Dubrovnik is a UNESCO World Heritage Site , the damage was fixed rather quickly, unlike Sarajevo, which has seen only a slow rebuilding. Don't get me wrong, there IS construction going on - and there are certainly a whole lot more going for it than I expected (drinkable tap water, excellent bus system, a WHOLE lot of Volkswagons...) - but there is still a decidedly run-down feel to the place. And sometimes, the war legacy literally smacks you right in the face, like when you stumble on the sidewalk over "mortar shell roses" (divets left in the sidewalk) or, as I did, came face to face with a tank outside Tito's Bar. (Although, to be fair this tank was from WWII.)

Anyway, interesting stuff going on. And yes, if you didn't know, there was a war here - but there isn't anymore.

M is for Mortal Shell Roses;
M.

Sunday in Dubrovnik

This morning, Emira and I awoke to a beautiful morning, with the sun shining over the Old City and our rented room. We meant to get up earlier - but seeing as this is also my vacation, managed to sleep in until 8:30. I made coffee from the tiny machine our landlady set outside the door, along with home-made apple strudels.

With my camera newly charged, we walked took the long stairways (about 500 steps, straight down) to the Old City gates, in search of a bakery. We wound up at a tiny grocery store, where I bought yoghurt, and later Emira found a bakery where she bought a meat pie. She claims it's not as good as what we could get in Bosnia...

Around 10:15, we found ourselves at the port, looking for boat trips to the various islands around Croatia. We ended up booking ourselves for the student rate to the Elephiti Islands: Kolocep, Šipan, and Lopud. We bought a few souvenirs from a nice old lady and then met the boat at 11am. As the day was young, and the Old Town fairly well explored, we were both really excited to see some of the surrounding area.

The first five minutes should've tipped us off to the crazy adventure we were in for. It was a double-decker boat, but the moment we left the harbor, the guides announced that everyone should get off the top deck, due to high winds. Huh. That's when Emira turned to me and asked if I'd packed the dramamine. Nope, I said, it was back at the room.

Whoops.

Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on the prow, staying a safe distance away from Emira's head, hanging off the side. We both must have looked a little green, because the captain and most of his crew came by to see how we were doing. We ultimately ended up at the back of the boat, praying to JC and breathing in the lavendar sachets that I bought, to keep us from collectively hurling.

The first island was relatively close. Once we wobbled off the boat and set to exploring, it was really lovely. The islands give off a mediterranean feel - kind of like a Monet painting, with all the poppies, rosemary plants and yes, even some cacti. The port was super peaceful and surrounded by awesome paths, one of which led us to an abandoned church and cemetary. We headed back to the boat for a catered dinner of fresh whole fish, cevapi, cole slaw and all the terrible terrible wine we could drink. We laughed ourselves silly.

After that, it was one to Sipan, which was ok, but we only had forty minutes and there wasn't much to see. The last island, Lopud, was the best. We had 1.5 hours to check out the Francescan monestary, the botanical gardens and to eat a huge calzone the size of my head. Plus, have I mentioned that the cappucinos here are to die for? Like, three inches of foam and two of delicious dark coffee. I've had six today already and I think I might type all night. Anyway, we had some cappucinos in the port.

By this time, it was 4:15 and we had to head back to the boat. I was seriously not looking forward to it, and it turned out my instincts were right. The wind had only intensified, and it was two hours of absolutely hell. Once out into the wind, we were broadside to the shore, meaning we took the brunt of all the waves right into the bottom of the boat. My shoes were soaked, not to mention my shivering legs (good thing I was wearing a skirt, because my jeans would've never dried). Also, neither of had jackets and Emira kept her face flat against the table, trying not to hurl. I had to stare at the horizon, because it was the only thing that wouldn't move.

When I teased Emira that JC must not have heard her prayers for today, her only answer was, "Hey, the dude can't be at our beck and call. There are also wars and shit to take care of." The laughing did kind of help the nausea to subside, but not by much. I'm sure the crew thought that we were certifiably nuts.

Anyway, we got back a little wet and worse for wear into the port at 6pm. Neither of us wanted to talk much, so we marched back up the 500 flights of stairs shivering and swearing all the way. I hopped right into warm clothes and bed while Emira collapsed right on the floor. It took us a good hour to collect ourselves (and comb out the serious wind-hair) before we were ready for supper.

We marched BACK down the stairs and back into Old Town right about the time it started to rain, but we were not to be daunted. We ended up at a very cute local restaurant in a back alley, out of the way, and had a heart-warming meal of delicious pasta and lots of wine (ending with cappucino, of course). Now Emira is waiting patiently while I regail these adventures to teh interwebs at the same internet cafe as last night, and then we're going to gingerly test the night-life here. I say gingerly, as I think both our systems are still kind of nautious...

Anyway, that's all from here. We're back to Sarajevo tomorrow, but this has been the best of best breaks for both of us, all hurling aside :)

M is for motion-sickness;
M.

Conversations with God

On the bus yesterday, I watched as the formerly brilliant sky clouded over into a dull grey aroudn noon. Worriedly, I turned to Emira and said

Me,"Looks like it's clouding up. I hope it's not like this when we reach Dubrovnik."

Emira, "Naw, don't worry about it. I put in a good word with the JC."

Me, "Who? JC Chasez?"

Emira, "No, fool. Jesus Christ!"

Me, "But, you're Muslim!"

Emira, "Don't worry about it. JC and Mohammed have a time-share on my soul."

A point that was later proven when the sky cleared and a beautiful afternoon opened before us in the Old City. Obviously, I need to get on the JC's good side.

This Country Makes Me Poop

Not sure if I'd suggest drinking until one am, waking up at six to catch a crowded bus at 7:15 am for an eight hour trip through the mountains with hang over.

BUT, luckily it's over. And worth it.

Emira and I got on the bus this morning, and, after a rough start (ie motion sickness and some slight constipation), finally woke up and got the juices flowing about the time we ate a meat pie in Neum, on the small strip of Bosnia that's actually ON the Adriatic.

During the eight hours we mulled over the three president problem and decided that some "redistribution" was in order. That is, Bosnia was in a perfect position to share leaders with other, more unfortunate countries that don't actually HAVE leadership, per se. Like Somalia. I think this funnier when we were both sick.

Anyway, we arrived around two pm and found a room just above old city, in one of the many windy cobblestone streets. Apparently it's quite common for families living around the area to let rooms out to total strangers. Luckily for me, Emria had been here three weeks ago, knew where to look and, most importantly, speaks the language. We scored a terrific room with a private bath and terrace for little over $30/night for each of us. (Trust me, this is a steal).

The day, although initially cloudy, has cleared up to be a sunny, gorgeous 70 degree perfect day. We wandered in and around the old city, checked out the history museum, re-charged my camera battery (I know, I know), ate gelato, had terrible seafood (which was surprise - that it was terrible, I mean) and we are now chillin' at an internet cafe, testing out plans for tomorrow. We may take a boat tour, we may just lay on the pebble beach and drink cappucino's (the best I've ever had in my life! And,,...happens to help with constipation...not MINE of course...)

So far, so good. Emira and I travel well together, as we have in the past, we fight like sisters and laugh like drunken sailors. Dubrovnik is amazing - at least, the old town portion. It's surrounded by these old walls (which we walked around today), red roofs and cobblestones - much like an old Europe feel. I love the sun, I love vacation, I love relaxing.

That's it for today.
M.

Stuff I Never Knew

Bosnia is actually split into two parts - the Federation of mostly ethnic Bosnians and Croats and the Republika Srpska (sounds like Serb-ska) filled with mostly Bosnian-Serbs. Right now, Bosnia has THREE presidents, representing these three ethnic groups. The Croats and the Bosnians, for the most part, get along under the Federation, which has 51% of control in Parliament (but 70% of the population, according to Emira), while the Bosnian-Serbs have 49% representation. All this came about through the 1995 Dayton Accords, which effectively ended the war here but with THREE presidents (rotating out every nine months) one has to wonder - how long can this keep up?

I Have Beer Fingers...

Dear Readers;
I have arrived in Bosnia safely. I missed my connection in Munich, and had to stay the night there, but I met a nice Bosnian lady and a fun Kenyan/midwestern with whom to pass the time. Anyway...I'm on vacation so what's an extra night in Munich? I slept most of the time anyway.

I arrived in Bosnia this morning at noon. Flight uneventful. My friend Emira met me at the gate, looking fabulously long-haired and we immediately jumped a cab out to her house in Visnjik. It's a great apartment, right near Old Town, which we immediately took off for.

After exploring around for awhile, we sat down to eat cevapi (che-vapi); essentially beef links with pita and sour cream. It was very very good, if not colon-stopping. We poked around old town, checking out the main mosque, Orthodox Church and even Synagogue, but then grabbed some backlava. Walked around some more, and then hit her favorite bar, which we holed up on for about three hours, drinking beers, harassing the bartender and generally, catching up.

Which leads me to my post title...apparently, Emira has beer fingers. I don't know what that means, but after three liters of beer, I don't really care.

I called the HMF over skype, and then called my friend Alex, whom some of you might remember from my Malawian adventures two years ago. Turns out he was reassigned to Sarajevo about six months ago, so now we're going to hook up at an Italian restaurant and re-live old times.

Ahhh...vacation.

Tomorrow, we're off at 7am to catch a bus to Dubrovnik (Croatia). We'll see how that goes, but so far, so good!

M.

Receipt Rant

What on earth has happened to the receipts of the world? How did they suddenly multiply and extend themselves to THREE feet ? Is there some sort of hormone in cash registers I dont' know about?

Case in point - every time I go to Cub, I usually buy about $30 worth of stuff. That's about 20-25 things MAX. Yet, when I leave, I have a THREE foot long receipt, a smaller receipt that summarizes my total, the receipt with my signature on it and atleast TWO coupons that they print at the register. That is a handful of crap that I really don't need, and usually ends up at the bottom of my canvas grocery bags.

Last month was Earth day, and as such, Green news abounded in all my magazines. How to live in a green house, have a greener liver, yada yada yada. One of the tips was to press "No receipt" when you pulled money from the cash machine. So this morning, I hit the cash machine before my trip and hit "No receipt."

How surprised was I when a slip of paper popped out! (I had almost driven away, but imagining my bank information being stolen from the person behind me made me stop). I pulled it out, thinking I must of hit the wrong button.

Nope. The slip of paper just said "Thanks for Banking at Bremer!"

I was so pissed -I mean, why even give the OPTION of no receipt if you're still going to print out some lame piece of paper?!?

So yeah, I was so pissed - I threw the damn piece of paper out the window. Maybe the littering outside the bank will get so bad they'll realize what total douches they are. Or maybe not.

Oh, the irony.

Packing Packing Packing

Things to do before leaving for Bosnia on Wednesday night:

1) Stop working. Woo hoo! Wait, you mean I have to wait until Wednesday??

2) Laundry - including bleaching that ketchup stain out of the hem of my white dress pants.

3) Wrest new camera away from UPS

4) Fix wheel on rolly carry on luggage

5) Fit a whole trivial pursuit game into my purse

6) Mourn my totally dead ipod

7) Search the depths of my soul (and bank account) for a new one

8) Make financial (and potentially boring) decision to skip the new 'pod until trip is paid for

9) Find underwear

10) Forgive self for being - and looking - American, no matter how many dark pairs of jeans/tennis shoes I own

11) Notify credit card companies of my whereabouts so they don't freeze my assets

12) Take out some dollars...in the event I might be able to buy something against the euro...

13) Hope that Emira's book arrives in time

14) Find sunglasses

15) Find swimsuit

16)...um,...shave..

17) Find bandaids

18) Pray my 17 hours and three airports will pass quickly and uneventfully

19) Pluck eyebrows in eastern european (thin) fashion

20) Buy eyebrow pencil to cover sickly eyebrows..

21) Meet Roxie, the girls and the husbands at Buca for a farewell mastacholi and martini

22) Hope Megan can still take me to the airport

23) Check in

24) Air kiss America goodbye.....

Lists Lists Lists Lists

It's great to have parents.
It's great to have parents that are nice.
It's great to have parents and extended family that are nice.
It's great to have parents and extended family that are nice and feed you.
It's great to have parents and extended family that are nice and feed you often.
It's great to have parens and extended family that are nice and feed you often at the lake.

The End

This

...is how I've felt for the past two weeks.

Food Aid

I spent all last week attending a conference on food aid in Kansas City, followed by two days of grueling-yet-fascinating - training and a Saturday full of catch up work. Although it was an exhausting week, now that I'm a few days out, I can reflect a little bit.

US Food Aid takes many forms and is administered under several different government programs, to many different ends (and under lots of controversy). My company is one of a zillion development organizations that bids to win commodities from the US government, with the intent of shipping them overseas, either for food emergencies (famines, conflict, and usually temporary in nature) or development work (more longstanding programs). One of the more fascinating aspects of these programs is how they involve almost all aspects of our economy - suppliers/farmers, freight forwarders, private voluntary organizations (PVOs), the US Dept of Agriculture (USDA), US Agency for International Development (USAID), millers, shipping agents, shipping companies, port authority, customs; you name it, we got them involved.

I tried to explain this to a gentlement hitting on me at the bar last thursday (ok, what would YOU say when asked what you do?) and his response was, "Oh, like the Iran-Contra!"

Um......not exactly.

But, food aid comes under the gun of critics quite often. At best, it's claimed as a mechanism for US subsidized commodities (usually wheat, soybeans, corn and the like) to be dumped in unsuspecting foreign markets, bottoming out the local prices. At worst - and this is how it is perceived by the government in Zambia - a chance to poison the locals with dangerous GMO's. It has a long and sordid history. I'm too lazy to go hunting for the links right now, but most aid can be trailed back to the Post World War passage of the Marshall Plan, meant to rebuild Europe and Europeans.

I'm not sure what to think about all this, but I do enjoy the controversy. In fact, having gone thorugh a liberal grad school, I'd say I'm pretty well aware of the criticisms, so it's interesting to be on the business end of it. I took this job, in part, to learn more about food aid. After this week, I see that it truly is an industry in and of itself and I've got tons left to learn. Even though it was painful at the time, I count myself lucky that I work in an industry that keeps me engaged, keeps me learning and keeps me wondering what will happen next.

This Just In

...I've hit adulthood.

My taxes are paid, there are utilities in my name, my refridgerator is full, I own my own car (with insurance!) and can hold down a job. Plus, I now take "work trips" - and not anywhere fun either. For example, today, I head off to Kansas City for a week. Erm, woot-woot? I guess?

When did this happen?

Plus, where are all the ponies and cotton candy and princesses?

Harrumph.
M.

Random Country # 31

It's vacation time! I just bought my tickets last night.

Come mid-May I'll be packing my bags and visiting Emira in Bosnia!

Woo hoo!

Girl.....Power?

My friend Rachel and I had a chick-flick night on Friday. We ended up watching a movie with a significant "girl power/girls are all princesses/you can do anything you want" message. At one point, they all gather together for a pink slumber/bachelorette party, go mattress surfing and sing a song about sisterhood.

Not a big deal , right? I mean, what else do you expect from a movie with the word's "Princess" and "Diairies" in the title? These types of messages have become so ubiquitous in society that they don't really even register to me any more. I mean, girls are vulnerable right? They need to be nurtured and empowered before setting sail into that scary sexually charged co-ed school/workplace/life in general unless you life in a convent.

I've seen this movie before - and let me say that I DO like it - but this was the first time I noticed how heavy-handed a message it really carries. For the first time in my life, I started to question the hidden implication. I mean really, it was so over the top, I was surprised there weren't unicorns and fluffy bunnies floating around. Think "Enchanted" but without the tongue in your cheek.

This feeling was further underscored by my Saturday morning ritual: sunshine, coffee, pancakes, pajamas and Hannah Montana (relax, this was by accident. Last week it was 'Saved By the Bell'). Unsurprisingly, her show also underscores the "girl power" message.

I got to thinking - where are all the "boy power" messages? How come little boys don't get together and celebrate their burgeoning manhood with bibi guns and Xbox marathons? Who celebrates THEM as they go out into the equally scary world?

I guess one could argue that, as the incumbents, boys/mini men already have a social mandate that highlights their worth and ability to rule the world. Sure, I don't argue that point.

But, don't boys need just as much direction and guidance and slumber parties and empowerment to make smart decisions as little girls do? In the advent of us telling girls they can do ANYTHING, who is teaching the boys how to power-share with equanimity?

It's guess easier to market unicorns and fluffy bunnies.

And then, this evening, I'm in the middle of this fabulous book: Fragments of Grace: My Search for Meaning in the Strife of South East Asia, by Pamela Constable. She writes about the dowry system in India:

When I arrived in India, I started a folder of news clippings on cases of dowry violence [...] by the time I left, the folder was bulging. [...] A pregnant woman of twenty-six hung herself from a ceiling fan after her husband, a police officer, and his relatives repeatedly harassed her over demands for a $5,000 dowry. A man shot his wife dead because her parents had given them an Opal sedan and he wanted a Honda. An eighteen year old wife was starved, burned, and finally beaten to death by her in-laws, who demanded more money and a motor-scooter.

Uh-huh. That says MOTOR SCOOTER.

Yes, teaching girls to value themselves is important. But so is educating others as to their value, outside boy baby-making machines. I guess it hit me this weekend: You can't accomplish this buy in with excessive, over the top, in your face, obnoxious messaging. Yes, it's easier to advertise unicorns and fluffy bunnies, but you can do it without alienating the other 50% of the population.

Otherwise, what you'll have is one very angry, pink unicorn shouting in a corner while the rest of the world wants to put it down.

St Patrick's Day lesson

If someone pours you an "Irish Car Bomb";

Run away.

Run, run, run, run, run away.

......Sweet lord.

Zombies are Definitely the New Ninja vs. Pirates

This link, here, is good for a laugh. And a Zombie Plan.

At last night's MN Roller Derby (so. much. awesomeness.), we discussed that Cabela's might also be a nice alternative to Super WalMart. There's hunting gear, freeze-dried food and an aquarium stocked with fresh fish (which you can then drink after you've eaten all the fish!). I didn't think about the toilet situation, but there's always the roof.

I also like the plan I read on teh interweb however, because it suggests:

...Make sure you have some girls. Preferably hot chicks, but in the absence of those some tough biker babes would work.

Now here, presumeably is where I can be of service. I have a uterus, which, ostensibly (although I haven't tested it yet) works. And even if it doesn't, by the time I figure that out, it will be too late.

You have no idea how releived I am. This means I can resign from gun-toting nursing school. My place in Cabela's is secured!

It's going to be a good day. I knew these hormones were good for something.
M.

Too Much Time On My Hands

Sometimes I worry that I have worked to amass a set of essentially useless skills. One of my few measurements of success - and recent recurring cocktail question - is whether or not I (or any of my soft-bottomed friends) would survive in a post-apocalypse nuclear fall out.

After watching 'I Am Legend', both the HMF and I readily agree that we would be dead within hours, should we be left to our own devices. I mean, I can barely use a can opener - what if I had to hunt and skin my own food? ...AND, what about fighting off zombies?

As a side bar, my friend Ann explained to me this weekend that she and her boyfriend already have a zombie survival plan: they are going hole up in a Super WalMart - all the food, ammo and medical supplies you need. Think about it. (She's right!)

Ok, so anyway, back to my useless life. Here are a list of skills I perceive needing in post-nuclear holocaust world:
CPR
Gun safety/operation/target practice
Car mechanic
Ham radio, morse code
Rock climbing/Rapelling
Veterinary science - chickens, goats, pigs
Sewing my own clothes
Gardening
Being able to suture a wound or set a broken bone
Flying an airplane
Siphoning gas
Starting a fire without a match

Here is what I am reasonablly skilled at:
Use my credit card, and return items on said credit card
Take my car to the mechanic
Check email
Spell

See? Not much good. While I believe my pioneer fore-fathers would have hands down been able to live in the aftermath of a nuclear fall out - I mysefl am screwed.

Sigh. There is SO much to worry about.

The Day That Doesn't Normally Exist

I don't have anything particular to write today - just wanted the date to show up, because it will be four long years before I see it again.

You know, when I was a kid, I thought that people born on this day were developmentally delayed. Before you blast me, let me explain.

I remember overhearing my mom (or someone) explain leap year to my siblings, saying "People born on this day only have a birthday every four years, so if someone has been around for sixteen years, they are really only four."

In my childhood mind, you couldn't officially "turn" any older without having a birthday, so this explanation _clearly_ meant that there was a four year-old trapped in a sixteen year old's body. Call my crazy, but I thought that leap year babies were somehow retarded.

Ah, the childhood mind.

Have a great day!

Forever Faithful, Forever.....21?

So I headed to the mall last weekend with the HMF to pick out a belated birthday present for my sister......and to do a little shopping for myself. My wardrobe has been looking a little peaked lately, and with a pending Valentine's dinner that night, I was also on the hunt for some good deals.

Of course I tried all the grown-up places first (Nordstrom's, Banana Republic, Arden B., etc) but after hour three I could no longer resist that cotton candy of commerce, the bubble gum of bargains - oh yes you know you love to shop there, too - Forever 21.

I LOVE this store. You can find all sorts of interesting, trendy junk in there for waay cheap. Ok so yes, you might have to re-fasten a button or two, but as their inventory falls directly into the category my college roommate and I dubbed "disposable clothing", it doesn't much matter. When you pay 4.99 for a pair of shoes, are you really that surprised when the heel breaks off?

Anyway, their fashion ranges from hippy to hip, silky to sheer, and everywhere in between. The particular store I was in had a dirth of "prairie-skirts-come-lingerie" (ie paisley with black lace at the end?) in stock. It was ridiculously busy - and ridiculously fun.

Of course, I did find a beautiful sleeveless coral blouse for that evening (sans the HMF; I mercifully let him wander off) and took it home. I wore it that night, was fabulous and then went home. End of story, right?

Later that weekend, the HMF picked up the plastic "Forever 21" shopping bag to recycle, and asked me what John 3:16 was.

"It's a bible verse," I said, distractedly watching the TV. "For God so loved the world he gave his only son that we may be saved through him..." trailing off, thinking my mom would be proud of me that Sunday school atleast made an imprint.

"Why is it on this shopping bag?" he laughed, wiggling the obnoxious yellow bag under my nose.

And he was right. Right there on the bottom of the bag, in small letters - yet still visible - were the words "John 3:16". That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing flashy. In fact, if you don't look for it, you probably wouldn't notice. I've been shopping there for about three years and had never looked. We thought this was more than a litte bizarre, seeing as I was unaware that a clothing store that sold see-through blouses was also in the business of Jesus.

I've been pondering this post for a few days, but things have been a bit hectic on my end so I haven't had time to google it until tonight. I lifted this from Wikipedia:

As much as the stores look unkempt and messy, with bargains a handful cheaper than high-end brand names, the stores are always stocked with consumers and new clothes ready for the steals.

The store's trademark teal shopping bags (um, my bag was yellow? guess wiki is not _always_ right) have the words John 3:16 printed on the bottom, a reflection of the owners' Christian faith.[4]


Huh. Again I say, I find it hard to see the link between lascivious lingerie, plastic shoes, transparant dresses and God's love. But whatever, I've come up with my own interpretation:

Obviously this means God wants me to shop there.

Meet Your Friendly Neighborhood.....

Muslim?


I couldn't believe this when I saw it in the St Paul Community Ed Winter Class Schedule. The best was the last line: "Participants will be able to meet with a local Muslim family."

After I stopped laughing (I mean, after all, when is this going to stop? ...meet your friendly neighborhood Jew? Come one come all and see the bearded Sikh? If so, I could make oodles of money renting out my less honky-tonky friends...), I realized that I kept going back to this class description, wondering what on earth it would be about. After I poked all the fun I could at it (joking that I would show up with pigs-n-a-blanket to share...and then act all offended...), I thought, hey, if something draws my curiousity and attention (and ridicule) so much, why not just GO?

So, on Tuesday night, I did. There was no Muslim family (bummer) but there was a very nice man from the Somali community, with a great power point presentation. I was a bit surprised, as the advertisement didn't say it would have a Somali focus, but given the demographics of Minnesota, it made sense. I was slightly disappointed, but the nation of Islam is quite diverse after all...

I wondered...who would GO to things like these? Who couldn't make their own Muslim friends? Turns out, there were seven other people there - mostly teachers, interested in learning more about Islam for their students' sake. There was also a mid-fifties couple there - a belligerant guy who had read too much about Muslims in Time magazine ("yeah, don't you all believe in 1,000 vestal virgins?") and a woman, who confessed to me that she liked cemetaries.

Yeah.

On the whole, it was a very good presentation. I consider myself a pretty culturally aware person, and I pay attention. (It helps that one of my best friends is a Bosnian Muslim - hope you're enjoying your tonkatsu, Emira!) That said, I feel I learned a few things.

For example:

• There are 1.5 billion (billion!) Muslims in the world. That's about 1/6th of the global population. Wow!
• Arab Muslims only make up 18% of that population.
• There are 7 million American Muslims - the largest group of American Muslims come from South Asia (Pakistan/India/Bangladesh). Note: America is allied with all of these countries.
• The root of the word "Islam" is "silm", which means "peace." This is where the words "salaam" (hello) and "Muslim" (one who surrenders to God" derive.
• You know how Muslims need to face east (Mecca) when they pray five times a day? They are actually facing the Ka'bah, a stone structure whose sole purpose is to symbolize the direction you're supposed to pray. I always thought they were praying towards a mosque or something...
• Some Muslims are uncomfortable around dogs because Muhammed said the saliva from dogs is severely unclean.

All in all, it wasn't a total waste of an evening, but I can't say it was worth $5. I still can't shake the feeling that it is a bit strange - after all, why Muslims? Shouldn't we, as a pluralistic society be learning about all faiths? No wonder non-Christians dislike Christians so much - we make others explain themselves to us, rather than the other way around (withOUT trying to convert them). I don't think Christian Americans (especially caucasian ones) always realize how mainstream their believes are - how white-washed Christian this nation really is - and offputting it can be, however innocuous, to those who don't fit in to that mold.

On a side - but related - note, I watched a really awesome movie this past weekend called "Murderball". It's all about the US Para-Olympic Quadrapalegic Rugby team. They're just regular jocks, but in wheelchairs. The movie moved me, because it shows the guys just being...guys. They don't fit into the "norm" and get treated differently by well-meaning idiots (one guy told a story where his girls aunt said - "I heard you were going to the Special Olympics, good job!" His comment: "In her eyes, I just went from quad to retard in 4 seconds..!") It is a terrific movie.

I couldn't help but compare the teacher's lecture to my life in Japan, when I was the "other" making presentations to school kids about "America". I constantly stuck out, having to justifying my existence. It's tough - and I found very few Japanese reached out to me in a non-fetishitic (as in "oo let's have an American friend!") kind of way. Sticking out of the norm takes courage, guts and it is very easy to become a cynic. This only makes me love those who's differences haven't managed to make them sour on honky-tonks like myself, even more. :) (You know who you are...)

So, my prior experience, coupled with the movie, coupled with this lecture Tuesday evening has kept my heart full while my mind has been busy with work this week. I haven't had time to digest it all, but the more I think about it, the less afraid I am to be different, and yoke myself to someone who is also different. In the end, those who want will still see us as retards, even when we're Olympic Gold Medalists. Only I need to know the difference.

M is for Muslim;

M.

[Your Title Here]

Why do birds sing on the coldest days?
When I'm hunched up, and shaking
Cursing the darkness and my frozen fingertips
Hating each breath stolen from my nostrils
Eyes stinging, sinuses dry
How could they sing?
How could they?

This One is Better

Just like this blogger, I love my job. Well, I've only been there a month, but the prognosis is good. This is fortunate, because I upset a very nice existence in DC to take it. I mean, there's still work-related sludge to deal with (re: microwave posting below) but on the whole, I think I traded up.

I work for a large company, but in a small division (26 people) with people from all walks of life (Venezuela, Kenya, Australia, Illinois, Indiana, Egypt, etc). My manager(s) are awesome - thoughtful, funny, patient and kind. Also, they have lives outside of work, which helps.

I get to think about far flung corners of Asia all day, and work help improve living conditions for the people there. We do this by providing food, shelter, infrastructure, cows, and an education - for one. On a macro level, it sounds a whole lot more interesting than what it turns out to be in reality (logistics = paper pushing) but I still love it.

But the best part? The best part is today, the CEO gave the entire company this Friday afternoon off.

Just because.

Woo hoo!
M.

Oh Dear

I realize this is two rants in a row, but for some reason my crab-o-meter is over the edge lately. I don't know why, but I think I anticipated going from public transportation to driving would ease my tension and irritation towards the general populace.

I should've known better.

Dear MN Vehicular Users:

1) Your SUV is NOT a compact car. I don't care how short and cute it is, you cannot park in the compact car space. Stop being delusional.

2) Mr. Man with the Dodge Ram who parked across in TWO parking spaces, 10 feet from the door on a 40 below windchill day. Go directly to hell. Do not pass go, do NOT collect $100.

3) Mr. Minivan who ran a red left-hand turn light in a left hand turn lane. But, instead of turning left, he went straight! Apparently, a big red arrow pointing left just doesn't reach some people at 8am. Oh yes sir, that WAS the angry mitten!

4) I realize the snow and copious amounts of hotdish probably makes judging the speed of an oncoming car difficult, but please, don't merge and then SLOW DOWN in front of me. I'm talking to you with the break lights.

5) Also, speaking of merging. Don't be a lazy ass. If I'm trying to merge from the on-ramp, take your car off cruise control for one tiny second to let me in.

6) Lastly, I realize that you're probably trying to grab a CD from floorboards, or a toothpick from your backseat, but the rest of us don't know this. Please don't break in the middle of the interstate for no good reason! It breaks up the flow of traffic and you are bound to get rear-ended. If you really need something from your purse that badly, pull over, or pull over, grab a hitchhiker and let THEM get it for you.

pantpantpant *end rant*

Honestly, I don't know if this is culture shock - or weather shock - but man, this really gets my goat in a way even I'M surprised at. I guess this serves to prove you can take the girl out of the east coast, but you can't take the east coast out of the girl.

Or maybe I should've just moved to warmer climate.
M is for Mass Transit Mayhem,
M.

Passive-Agressive Much?

There are alot of wonderful things about living back in Minnesota, but every coin has two sides. Today at lunch, I was rammed in the head with possible the MOST annoying thing about Minnesota: that is, Minnesotans.

There are five microwaves in the cafeteria area. Being a Fortune 500 company, there is usually a queue around noon-noon fifteen. I understand you need time to warm up your tator tot hotdish and sloppy joes, but really, there needs to be some etiquette training.

I walk up to microwave today, to heat up my soup, and open it, because it was off (and clearly not running).

A snippy brunette about my age, was waiting in front of another machine, steps in and snips, "Someone's food is in there."

Being hungry, I said, "Well, the microwave is off. This person is not here and there is a line." In my mind, it is ridiculous for one person to hold up an entire line of people waiting to get hot food. Also, it's just a microwave, not the End of the World.

"But what if it's not hot?" says the fat woman wearing a fleece (really, fleece? at work?) embroidered with the words "TAMPA BAY".

"Well, then they should've kept a better eye on it and not wandered away." Again, there are people waiting!

So, without another word, I take out the mystery person's food and set it on the table. I feel all the women around me bristle.

Then, the Snippy Brunette then STEPS IN FRONT OF ME and says, oh well, I'll just pop my sandwich in for only 10 seconds.

Wait, WHAT?

And, AT THE EXACT SAME TIME, the fat woman behind me picks up the tupperware and turns to another woman that has just joined the line and says "Oh Barb, is this yours? Is it hot enough?"

So, I'm left standing there, with all the post-menopausal women glaring at me because Barb's macaroni hotdish is only WARM while the Snippy Brunette has clearly taken advantage of my up front assessment of the situation and STOLEN the microwave! I mean really, just because you didn't have the balls to take it out of the microwave yourself doesn't mean you have first dibs when someone else does.

But, I couldn't say anything, because I'd already used up my fill of acceptable "rudeness" for the day.

I'm ready for spring.
M is for Microwave Moron,
M.

And by the way...

Mostly, I buy the exact same size and brand of undewear from Victoria's Secret, whenever need be (or there's a sale, whichever comes first).

Today I was wearing said underwear, and it keep riding up my right buttcheek.

Now, as I said, I buy the EXACT SAME size and style of underwear from Vicki's - EVERY TIME. In fact, just recently, I purchased about three new pairs of said underwear - and this is the ONLY pair of the three (or ever) to ride up.

Which leads me to ponder the question - did Vicki's mislabel the size, OR DID MY RIGHT BUTTCHEEK JUST BECOME SPONTANEOUSLY LARGER?

Sigh.

Well..

I thought that as long as I had changed jobs, licenses, mailing addresses, and underwear, I might as well go ahead and update this thing, too. I've also never been to keen on the title, so I've changed it, although the address will remain the same.

The photo in the heading is a row of trees in the field directly across from my parents farm. I stared at that thing every day for 18 years - mostly trying to figure out if the visibility was good enough to go out - or gauging if I could risk leaving my one and only home.

Which, of course, I eventually did.

No word yet on what sense any of it makes, but for all intents and purposes, this is my life - beyond the shelterbelt.

The Angry Mitten

I fear, dear readers, I have waited too long to introduce you to the wonders of the Angry Mitten. It's not really my fault, I just haven't had use for the phrase (except at cocktail parties) until I moved back here. I can't (and won't) take full credit for its coinage (thanks, Rachel!) but I will prostelytize it's use.

Now that I'm back in Minnesota, the frozen tundra, 'tis time to trot out this useful phrase when someone cuts you off, leaves their left hand blinker on for ten city blocks, or simply, drives like an idiot.

That is to say, while in other - NORMAL- cities during the winter, you'd simply honk your horn and show your rage with a quick and easy flip of the leather finger.

But in Minnesota, one faces peril, if not certain frostbite should you dare to glove your fingers seperately. And lo, that elegant gesture, covered by large (shearling lined) mittens, gets immediately transformed into a flat-palmed italian full-hand "whats-a-matta-you!" arm wave.

So while YOU know you are wiggling the one-finger hello, all the other driver sees is a large mitten, waving like a dead fish.

That, my friends, is the Angry Mitten.

M.

Extra credit! Use it in a sentence at work tomorrow:
"Man, on the way to work today, some jerk cut me off and the SLOWED down on 494!
"Did you give him the Angry Mitten?"

Choices

The last time I moved, my friend Ann (sufferer of Vertigo, below) and I ended up having a conversation about life that has stuck with me ever since. We were bitching (as usual) about finances - mostly about expensive apartments and other horribly high expenses that are part of post-graduate DC life.

I distinctly remember her saying, "You know, I thought I'd be farther by now."
"Like how?" I asked.

"Well, I thought I might have a house - or atleast drive a better car. When I was in high school, I thought being a grown up was going to be awesome."

I remember laughing at this, and saying, "...and then you grew up and realized it totally sucks?"

She grinned, and agreed.

I thought about that for awhile, and then mused, "But, think of all the things in high school you thought you were going to have as an adult."

"Ha! I wanted a car...and a place I didn't have to share with my sister....and a job with my own money....and to go shopping whenever I wanted..."

I pointed out to her that, caveats aside, by high school standards anyway, we were living the lives we always wanted (nevermind that the car came with insurance, the apartment with utilities and the job with, well, work. Oh yes and credit card bills for all those damn shoes...). but my point remained, we were essentially living the lives we wanted. (We just never counted on the consequences!)

This past month has been full of hard, not-fun, grown-up choices for me. I thought of Ann as I was greeted by sub-zero temperatures after spending the new year with my HMF in sultry DC. I had to remind myself that it was my choice that put me here, and no one else.

I saw again that growing up sucks - and you can take that truth to the Bank.

But I had to remind myself that, all caveats aside, I have all the things I had dreamt of in high school. Hell, college even. In fact, my life has been pretty neat - and my choices have shaped that. It's the choices I've made (even the sucky ones) that have made my life interesting and fulfilling.

I guess my point is that growing up never turns out the way you think it will, choices are never as cut and dried as you want them to be- but by and large having ownership of those choices and seeing the life you've built for yourself is a neat feeling. That's it, in a nutshell, of what I've been feeling lately.

Did this require a blog post? Probably not.

You're Definitely Back in Minnesota When...

You're at the mall foodcourt, watching two grandparents and their middle aged daughter chow down on crappy chinese food, and they pull out their own tupperware (brought from HOME) to bag the leftovers.

Now THAT's the midwestern sensibility I'd been missing!

M.
/now will someone please dig out my car??!

Random Medication

My friend Ann and I were chatting on the train last night and she pulled out a little orange bottle of perscription medication.

"Check this out," she said, "lately I've been feeling really woozy and out of it, so I went to my doctor." She hands me the perscription and I look it over.

"Wait, I say, this medicine is for - VERTIGO?" I say.

"Yeah, isn't that weird? My doctor says I've got an infection in the doohickey in my inner ear."

"You have an Alfred Hitchcock disease! " I say, marveling. "Cool!"

"Yeah, but that's not the best part. Flip the bottle over."

I do as she says and see, in tiny lettering under "possible side effects" three hilarious words:

MAY CAUSE DIZZINESS.


We laughed all the way home.

Cambodia/Indonesia Pictures

Me with the Leper King

Ankor Wat

Wayang Puppet Theatre

Ta Prohm (aka "Tomb Raider Temple")

Aspara Dancer - Traditional Khmer dance

Change

I have arrived safely, a little worse for wear but getting better, back home. But, as my mom says, there's no rest for the wicked, because I've landed right in the middle of a huge upheaval of my own making.

I've decided to take a job back in Minnesota, starting December 27th. Which means I have three weeks to quit my job, escape from my lease, pack up my life, drive across country and move away from the single most influential person in my life for the last three years : my HMF. (Handsome Man Friend).

Honestly, I have hours where I doubt I can do this. Although I'm excited for the job (it's in my area of interest, in the field I'm already working in, more money, more responsibility, lower cost of living, closer to family, etc, etc), right now I am Terribly. Conflicted.

Sigh. I need another pepto.
M.

The End Is Near

In the past three days I've.....

....switched hotels in Cambodia
....poked around the awesome Old Market in downtown Siem Reap
....got a mani/pedi in the scebbiest hair salon in Cambodia, but it was done by two very fun women who promised that they could find me a nice boy here ("they no hit, but they too small" was one woman's observation, gesturing at her crotch (I am so not kidding about that either..).
....shared a cab to the airport with a nice Indian family who wanted to know if I, too, worked for Sun Microsystems (??)
...flew to Singapore and recognized most of the people on the plane as the same ones I'd flown out with
....checked back into the hotel I stayed at earlier in the week
....celebrated Thanksgiving at Clark Quay with an old high school friend
....took myself to the movies
...shopped
...went to Chinatown and saw the oldest temple in Singapore
...attended (quite by accident) the noon poojah at the local Hindu temple (hey, it was 12:30!)
...ate alot of noodles, and ice cream
...managed to rip the toenail off my baby toe!
...am now very very sleepy and ready to not be sweaty all the time
...excited and nervous about coming back to reality
...totally sold on the idea of vacationing on one's own. It rocks!

Another Great Day

The dinner (buffet) was a little disappointing last night, only in that I was so exhausted, it was tough to enjoy on any level. That, and the buffet food was cold. 'My hotel serves it better.

However, the aspara dancers were really neat! Aspara can be traced back centuries in the Khmer cultuer - they are the women you see who wear the long, pointy helmet. The type of dance is very stylized, much like Balinese dancing - the placement of the hands, arched feet and blank/serene expression are all part of the show.

This morning, I woke up to the sunshine streaming through the window onto my bed - I knew it was going to be a great day. Pool, massage, and a little bit of the town via motorcycle taxi - I was right! It also helped that is was sunny, and no rain, this afternoon. I went to the Old Market and shopped around, ate lunch a fabulous open air restaurant (I had "chicken amok"and it came served right IN the coconut!) I was even able to find eye solution (note to self: 3 0z does NOT get you through five weeks...)

I also stopped by the National Ankor Museum. It looked empty from the outside, but that's because it just opened five days ago. (It shows - some of the exhibits aren't fully up yet. Good thing they offered a 33% discount..) It was still a little expensive at 8$/person - but in my mind worth it for the air conditioning alone.

Pretty slow after yesterday, but am loving it just the same. Tomorrow I move hotels and it's my last day. As a side note, I could make one whole posting about how bad Lonely Planet makes me feel. Mostly, I think "they'd pay less" or I should know be speaking more Khmer than I am" or "they'd eat meat from the open air meat market" or "they wouldn't have changed their money there.." But at the end of the day, I am left with only me and my decisions. And quite honestly, I'm sure they do it better - but I'm not going to let some silly book make me feel bad!

M.

Temple List

Today I..
...got up at 5am.
...waited for my tuk-tuk driver, Noi, in the dark for 30 minutes
...decided it wasn't so bad because due to cloud cover, there would be no sunrise anyway
...arrived at Angkor Thom by 6am so I could have it all to myself
...30 seconds after I arrived a mini-van filled with a large Chinese family showed up.
...decided that the Chinese were the loudest people I've ever met in my life! (Sorry Kang)
...stepped on something, heard a "squirrt!"" and saw that I'd stepped on the largest dead frog of my life and split open it's intestines. Grossssssssssssss...
...walked on Terrace of the Elephants
...took my picture on the Terrace of the Leper King, with this guy.
...fell in love with Ta Prohm, aka "the temple where Tomb Raider was partially filmed"
...drove 28 km in a tuk-tuk to see tiny Banteay Srei, a pink limestone temple
...saw landmines being removed from the side of the road
...drove yet another 12 km on rough roads to get to Kbal Spean, to see carvings in the riverbed
...got extremely tuk-tuk sick
...got stuck in the downpouring rain
...was happy to get back to the hotel and take a real shower!

It's 5pm and I'm exhausted. The last thing on my list for today is to see a traditional Khmer dance at a special Khmer dinner tonight. I had sweet potatoe curry last night off the Khmer menu - and if that's any teaser for what's ahead this evening, I am in for a good time. I hope I can stay awake for it, but something tells me that after a refresher nap, I'll be good to go. On tomorrow's agenda will be sleeping in late and exploring the town of Siem Reap.

Honestly, this is the most relaxed I've been in years. Vacationing alone has it's pros and cons, but I don't really feel alone. I am thinking of all my friends and family, especially when I come across something that makes me think of you (Garth - there are so many awesome bugs here, you'd love it!)

Mostly though, I'm just relaxed.

M.

Today Should've Been My Birthday

...because it was terrific!

Again, I got up early (3am) to catch my flight to Siem Reap. I knew it was going to be a good trip, because we disembarked from the plane straight onto the tarmac, and you already know how I feel about that! :)

The first thing I smelled was the thick, damp, air and the heavy scent of boiled sweet corn (I have no idea where that came from). It wasn't nearly as hot as I expected it to be, as they're moving into "winter"now - the temperatures are only in the 80's.

I thought it might be a hassle to get my visa at the airport, but they were so efficient (literally, all the officials were lined up and they passed the passport down the row and you picked it up at the end) that it took no less than 10 minutes. I was glad I'd stopped in Indonesia though to get passport photos, because there wasn't a booth available - and the visa app had to have it. Phew! At least I planned something right! It was also smart to carry dollars in small denominations (thank you, experience, for teaching me that one) as the visa app was $20 US as well as the pass to get into Ankor Wat.

My hotel picked me up - and I absolutely love the place. It's outside the main drag of town, where it's not so dusty or noisy. Richard, the colleague who recommended this place to me, hit the nail on the head with this one. For $30 US/night, I get my own villa with a porch, private non-squat bath, airconditioning, cable and free internet in the lobby. Plus, the a lá carte menu at the hotel runs about $1.20 US for each item, so I'm not breaking the bank by eating here either (although I do have plans to go out and check out other places...) The only downside I can find so far is the light FM muzak they've got playing non-stop in the lobby. Um, enough with the Westlife please.

I was beat by the time I checked in at 8am, but the staff gave me breakfast and then I slept until noon. I felt a little guilty about that but hey, it's my vacation so why not? After that, I got up, had lunch by the pool and then had a facial and massage in the open air veranda behind the pool. The kicker? $9. For an hour and a half. I couldn't believe it! It was a fruit and vegetable facial, where at one point, I had tomato, some sort of ginger paste and cucumber running into my ears. Then, they wrapped a reed braided screen around me like a pig pen, put a towel over the "compound"and placed a boiling pot of water in the middle. Portable sauna! I could've done with just a hot towel o clean my face, but - when in Rome...

You have to buy a one, three or seven day pass to get into Ankor Wat and the surrounding temples, but luckily, tourists are able to purchase them after 5pm on the day before you want to go. Because it's the rainy season (read: rain all afternoon) I know that the morning will be my only chance to get some non-cloudy pictures of some of the temples, I wanted to do this today so I can get an early start tomorrow (5am - what is this, the vacation of early rising? I'm going to have to schedule some sleep time...)

So after my massage, I took a tuk-tuk over to the tourist area around 4:30, got my pass and headed to Ankor Wat before it closed at 6pm. (Special bonus about purchasing it the day before!)

Ankor Wat is amazing. Like a half sleeping giant, slowly being worn down by the elements, the once gray stones are now pitch black and green mold spotted. The artistry in the carvings is breathtaking- and is the sheer enormity of the compound.

Unfortunately, it was cloudy so there was no sunset to speak, but still. As darkness fell, I literally felt the ancient stone walls being swallowed up by the jungle. It was creepy and comforting all at the same time. I mean, this temple has been here for hundreds of years, gets swallowed up every night, and manages to come back. That's some staying power.

What I didn't know is that Ankor Wat is just one of many famous temples to visit around Siem Reap. Tomorrow, I am going to try to visit Ankor Thom, something called the King of Lepers (??) and the Elephant cascade. When it starts raining tomorrow, I might just go get another massage.

M is for More Please,
M.

Singapore Sling

So far, my birthday in Singapore has been great - albeit, quiet.

First of all, I went out with Faisal and his girlfriend last night and then my co-workers - who all wished me a good day. Then, when I checked out of my hotel at 4am this morning, the reception gave me a box of chocolates! Pretty unexpected at 4am...

When I arrived in Singapore and filled out my immigration card, the immigration offical glanced at it, stamped it, and wished me happy birthday too! That also made me laugh (she must have been bored, or at the very least terribly observant).

So now I'm bumming around Singapore, the cleanest, safest city I have ever been in. It helps to know that if anyone bothers/mugs/steals from you, they're going to get the death penalty, so chances are no one will bother/mug/steal from you. I never thought I'd be a fan of the militant state, but hey, things change when you get older I guess.

You know those signs at the airport that tell you what can and cannot bring into the country? Well, I was a little taken a back when I noticed CHEWING GUM on the sign (thanks, Dad, for breaking me of that habit!) Also, on the MRT (public transit system) it's a $500 fine - for drinking water! I was pretty friggin nervous...what other laws may I have inadvertantly already broken? Is there a Singapore jail cell with my name on it? I caught myself jaywalking this afternoon and felt pretty sneaky - until I saw other people doing it. Guess there is some leeway in the system...

So far, so good, though. I went to the Central Business District, the Asian History Museum (it was closed...) saw the Supreme Court building, walked across the Singapore river, went to the Raffles hotel and window shopped. The bulk of the hot, steamy, rainy afternoon I spent at the Singapore History museum, which was AWESOME. I learned so much, but also got quite burned out. They have such detailed exhibits, it took me two hours just to get through the 1600's - 1880's.

Then, I bought myself a doughnut as an impromptu birthday cake and ate it on the streetcorner. Hooray, life! I couldn't ask for a more random, peaceful and all around lazy birthday. I remember last year at this time, I'd felt like I'd been through the ringer - like I'd earned yet another year. This time, while I know that big challenges lie ahead, I finally feel for the first time that my age is catching up to how I've always felt. (I never made a very good teenager). When I think about it, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, and it feels good.

Tomorrow I have yet another early morning, as I leave for Siem Reap on another 6am flight. I spent another few hours this afternoon stressing about what hotel (trying to trade up from the hostel I landed in tonight) and then thinking, hey, why fight it? Now I'm just staying in the hostel when I return.

That's the news from here -
M.

Blogging By Proxy

I was chatting with my handsome man friend this morning and he told me an interesting story. After he finished, he actually said "If I had a blog, I'd totally blog this!" So I laughed and told him I'd blog it by proxy... (even though - AHEM - blogs are free and you could totally sign up for one yourself, you know :)

Anyway, a few weeks ago, the HMF was taking the red line home from Union Station. A gaggle of girls got on and off, and he noticed that after they'd left, one of the girls had accidentally left behind her newly purchased IPOD NANO. Like, with the sales receipt and everything.

Now, my HMF being who he is, he picked up the nano, felt bad for the girl, and tried everything he could to locate her. Thanks to the receipt, he had her name and the last four digits of her credit card. From this, he was able to track down her parents phone number in Florida. He called, left a message explaining who he was, what had happened and asked that they have their daughter contact him to get her nano back.

They never called.

Ok, well, maybe he had the wrong number or they were on vacation, or estranged from their daughter. No big deal.

So he goes back to the store and returns the nano to her credit card, seeing as he couldn't physically give it back to her, the least he could do was give the money back to her, right?

(Are you all starting to see why I date this man?)

But then, one of his more techno-savvy colleagues, who was also privvy to this adventure, says to him "Why don't you try looking her up on Facebook?"

A- HA! Yet another good use for this sight.

So he goes on Facebook, signs up, easily locates her (he's got her full name after all, and remembers what she looks like, vaguely) and writes her an email with the subject line: IPOD NANO.

"Hi. You don't know me, but I found your new ipod nano on the metro last week. I've been trying to contact you, but didn't think about facebook until it was too late. I've already returned the nano to the store and your credit card got the full refund."

It's been a few days now, and he's gotten absolutely nothing back. No confirmation, no THANK YOU FOR SAVING ME $200, NO NOTHING.

..and I mean, niceness is it's own reward, right? If you're doing something considerate just for the sake of acknowledgement, maybe your heart isn't in the right place exactly. BUT STILL - he didn't have to do any of this. He could've sold it on craigslist (in fact, he posted it in the lost and found - and even tho it wasn't anyone's there, the folks that replied to him were genuinely surprised and thankful to see such honesty).

So I don't know what to think. Maybe this girl doesn't check her facebook page all that much. Maybe $200 is nothing to her. She's German, and 18 (according to her facebook page) so maybe her English isn't all that great.

But still, if she DID get it and WAS grateful, in the age of instant communication, the least she could do is spend 30 seconds writing a "hey thanks alot; you're a decent person" email.

What do YOU think?

Everybody Wayang Chung Tonight

After a hot bath and a sorely needed change of clothes, I headed out Saturday night with two co-workers. We ate at a japanese hibatchi restaurant and hit a bowling alley, where I won two out of three games (I only lost the last one b/c I used my other hand...!) I thought we'd be done after that, but we ended up going to a fantastic dance club (which made me laugh because I haven't been dancing twice in a month for, well - ever!) I've got to say, what I've seen of the club scene here is mad fun, but nothing I want to tap into for much longer than a month. It's exhausting!

In keeping with my personal pact, though, I got up today knowing that Sunday would truly be my day of rest. So I got up today knowing I'd have the whole day to myelf and was going to do something fun.

When I first began thinking of the world, and learned about Indonesia, two things captured my imagination : 1) Komodo dragons and 2) shadow puppetry (which I recently discovered is called "wayang kulit"). I knew I'd probably only have time for one museum while here, so I picked the National Wayang Museum in north Jakarta. At first, I was really disappointed. It was in a small alleyway, looked pretty rundown and none of the signs were in English. Plus, the guy at the door made it pretty clear I couldn't take any photos of the cool puppets on the wall. Boo. (Yeah, I took 'em anyway..)

But luckily there was a performance going on, so I got to see the puppets in action. I didn't realize that each performance is done by just ONE person, handling maybe 300 puppets in the course of the show. They are backed up by a large traditional orchestra, with gongs and gamelans and lots of percussion (there's alot of fighting!). I watched from the side of the orchestra, until a young man came up to me and told me I should watch from the "shadow" side behind the screen (duh, I was essentially watching the back stage from where I was at!). Once I moved over there, the effect was mesmerizing. Each puppet is so intricate!

After the performance, the young man followed me out and introduced himself as Daniel, owner of the theatre and the museum. His card actually says " Puppeters Family" - he comes from a long line of puppet-makers. He explained to me how each puppet is handmade from buffalo skin (not the leather part, but a stiffer layer) and showed me the raw materials and the tools they use for carving all the intricate holes.

He explained that the plays vary from island to island and culture to culture, but are mostly moral fairy tales. The mainstay characters are King Rama and his wife Sita, plus various gods that come down to earth in various forms to teach sneaky lessons. Originally, the king had used this medium to share with the masses laws and other information.

Daniel took me the rest of the way through the museum and showed me puppets from all over the world (punch and judy, marionettes donated by Francois Mitterand, a unicorn puppet from Bill Clinton, Polish, Russian, Thai, Cambodian and other SE nation shadow puppets). There were even Christian shadow puppets of Adam and Eve (plus the devil, of course). As if to underscore the universality of using puppetry to spread messages, Daniel also showed me puppets he had been commissioned to make (and then travel throughout southern Africa) with, to impart tales of health, hygiene and family planning. I was so glad he was there to explain everything to me - otherwise the entire trip would've been a loss. I kindly turned down his sales pitch for hand made puppets, but was no soured by the experience. His information was truly more valuable to me!

Truly one of the highlights of my time here in Jakarta.
M.

Rainy Days and Saturdays....

I got back from Banda Aceh Wednesday evening and have been working (only one more week to go!) to move things off my plate before next Friday. Of course, everything kind of changed mid week, when we found out the project just got extended to April, but oh well. I'm still here for close down!

Friday night I basically collapsed in my huge soft fluffy bed and, Saturday, I got up and worked in a mostly empty office until 5:30. By that time, it was pouring down rain outside (it's the beginning of the rainy season here - mornings are typically bright and sunny, cloud cover comes in early afternoon and by mid-evening there's rain...). Anyway, the hotel is only a 10 min walk from work, so I've never had to nab a taxi before. Not that I could find one at that hour anyway (or one that was empty!) so I started walking. I was carrying my work laptop (luckily, in a carrying case) which was good, because about 1/2 a block into it, I was soaked to the bone.

I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but sidewalks are virtually non-existent here, meaning that even on sunny days, you've got to walk ON the street if you are going to walk. No problem, except that during RAINY days the side of the road is flooded with foot deep puddles of murky water, draining into the nasty open sewer pits (or rather, not really draining at all). So my options were either to walk in the nasty water, or walk down the middle of the street/traffic. I tried a little of each column, but eventually safety dictated that I stay to the puddles. I kept hoping that a car would come by, just like out of the movies, a large tidal wave would over come me, mostly because I've never seen that happen and I was already wet...

I finally did manage to find a man with an umbrella and limited English, who kindly walked me the rest of way to the hotel, but honestly, it was too late for me. I walked into the five-star Four Seasons lobby looking like a drowned cat in flip flops.

And you know, normally I could play that off, because hey, I'm used to looking like an idiot. But this hotel is infested with "helpful" staff that linger at every corner. There are the five security guards at the gate (who have to sweep every car that enters the compound - they even open all the doors - check for bombs at your feet (hello? wouldn't I NOTICE if there were bombs at my feet?) and run a mirror under the car), the four individuals at the taxi stand, the two doormen, the concierge - and there's even some random guy that stands next to the elevator. He doesn't push the buttons for you or anything, he just.......well, I don't know what he does besides watch me and say "good morning/afternoon/evening" when all I want to do is get in the goddamn elevator. Oh yeah, even the elevator annoys me, because you have to swipe your room key to be able to push the button to your floor and half the time the reader doesn't read the card...so half the time I'm stressing frantically in the elevator hoping to god the elevator man doesn't come over and check on me to see why I can't get the door to work....No one should have to stress that much about an elevator.

And,when I get up in the morning, I have to say hello to no less than five cheerful hotel staff before even getting my morning cup of coffee - and for those of you who know what I'm like in the morning, it's really a struggle for me not to punch someone, even though I'm sure they're about as enthused to be greeting me as I am to be greeted.

Right. I understand that this is a stupid complaint. One person's lingering, creepy, watchfulness
is another person's attentive, discrete and pampering premier hotel experience. I realize that I am indeed very lucky to be having this experience at all. But not when I've just waded through calf high puddles that had goodness knows what floating in it. Whatever, so you think I'm a spoiled brat, but hey, my life right now is work and hotel, so cut me a break. I've been ruminating on this for three weeks now.

I think I'm just too darned mid-westerned to really enjoy the luxury hotel experience. Aside from making my bed, I don't want to know that anyone has been in my room whilst I was gone during the day. I don't like coming back and finding my toothbrush moved to where YOU think it should be (I'm in a "GroundHog Day" type struggle with the maid service over this - every day I leave my toothbrush and paste in a cup next to the sink. Every night I come back to find the entire cup moved away from the sink, to a shelf behind me. Now why would I want my toothbrush on the shelf?). I don't need a turn down service to remove the throw pillows from my bed and turn on the shaving lamp in the bathroom. I don't shave!

I think these complaints stem from my "DIY" attitude, homegrown protestant work ethic and deep-seeded desire to do things MY way. It annoys the living daylights out of me that every night, I return to my hotel room and someone has "reset" it to some random standard. What if I DID want my panties in the middle of the floor? Who are you to tell me otherwise? Futhermore, if this truly was a full service hotel, once I expressed my desire for them to stop with the services, (turn down, not panty-pickup) - shouldn't they have stopped?

Yes, I am in a battle of wills with the hotel. Yes, I realize I am going to lose. I also realize I'm dangerously close to taking thing rant into a philsophically bend that I'm not sure I'm ready to tackle.

I think all this ranting is just a symbol of how badly I need to come home again.

M is for My Way or the (Wet) Highway,
M.

More Sightseeing

Today, Desy took me around to see the 'sights' of Banda Aceh. Namely, the Baturrachman Mosque, the Banda Aceh museum and a large oceanliner stranded by the tsunami in the middle of a small village, 5-6 km from shore.

Me in the Mosque compound. When we first entered, a big group of men got all mad because my hair wasn't covered (look, I was just through the gate, to the lawn I wasn't actually going to go inside the building...). Luckily, there was a little street market next door, so Desy took me shopping. I actually really like it - and it's very comfortable - especially if you're having a bad (or a string of bad) hairdays!

Part of the Banda Aceh museum - a traditional Acehnese house. I forgot to take a photo straight on, so the only one I have is this "artsy" one I took through the pillars of a bell.

The stranded ship, about 5 km in land. What do you do when a ship lands on your house? Desy made a special explanation though - the house ruins you see infront of the boat are fresh, they are not tsunami related. She thinks the owners are rebuilding.

I have to hand it to Desy - she did a great job of being my interpreter and safe-keeper today. Even with the flux of development workers around, I still felt I caused quite a stir whereever we went. Desy quietly stood her ground (especially amongst those mean men at the mosque) and worked around it. She even helped me buy some beautiful tunics by bargaining on my behalf. She said she was able to get better prices by saying "You'd better not be giving me a bule price or else she'll be mad!" Seriously, I wish I could take this woman home with me.

We also had a couple of really great discussions about being and becoming muslim, family traditions (Idul Filtri vs Christmas) and being "unclean." She told me she was exempt from praying today, as she was "carrying the woman's burden" (nicely euphamistic, isn't it? - took me a while to catch on to that one). I told her that most religions I knew of felt that away about women - but that personally, I thought it made us more godlike than dirty, as it means we can create and carry life - and who else but God can create life? Of course, that's a notion that's still pretty radical by Western standards, so I don't know how well it went over with her. As I learned in Japan, listening to what is not said is often more important - and I don't know the "unspoken" language here (let alone the spoken one!) well enough to know if I brought up an interesting notion or really deeply offended her.

Anyway, by 4 o'clock I was completely beat. I've been puttering around at the hotel since, trying to get on internet and watch a little HBO, but the electricity in this (brand new) hotel goes on and off about four times an evening, so it's been a little challenging.

Tomorrow, it's back to the office!
M.

More Photos - Indra Patra and Coconuts!

Indra Patra

After the wedding yesterday, Richard suggested we drive out to the beach, to a place called "Indra Patra." Right along side the beach are remains of enormous fortresses - of which there is known very little. All Richard could tell me is that the forts were probably built long before the Dutch and the British, and that they survived the tsunami with little to no damage. Even Desy, who had taken a high school class trip here, was hard pressed to give me details.

Even when I googled it, the only thing I could find in English was this:

"Indra Patra Fortress. This old fort was built during the time of Iskandar Muda. It probably functioned as a defense against invaders."

Cursory google searches have let me down. I believe that Iskandar Muda was one of the many sultans that have ruled Aceh through the ages, but that's my own best guess. Since my Rough Guide pooped out on me in terms of Aceh, I'm left to my own terrible Bahasa and my slow computer to discover things, so you'll have to bear with me.

What I do know, and am able to glean from Richard and others, is that Banda Aceh has historically been very independent. It was the first part of "Indonesia" to have been invaded by westerners - and it was the gateway of Islam into the rest of the country. And while very observant, I don't get the feeling that the brand of Islam around here is very virulent. Conservative, but there are no mullah "decency police" wandering around.

To know the root of the conflict in BA (because yes, there was major conflict here before the tsunami - and now there's a shaky peace agreement) is to try to understand the history of Indonesia. As Faisal was fond of saying last week, Indo is make up of over 3600 islands. Do you think they all wanted to be a part of this country? Heck, half of the island of Papua is part of Indonesia - but the other half got to be it's own country (Papau New Guinea). Who decided THAT?

The fact is, Indonesia today was, at one time, millions and millions of little city-states, under the rule of their own sultans. Aceh was at one time, a main trading port with the outside world. They have their own language, their own culture - and Jakarta is over 4 hours away by plane. Who's to say they should follow what Jakarta does? This is precisely (ok a bit more complicated of course but it's a small blog, ok?) what happened in East Timor as well. And, for that matter, if we're speaking simplistically, let's go with Yugoslavia too.

I forget where I'm going with this, except to say that there are layers and layers of history, culture and war here that, in one weekend, I can't even begin to fathom. In looking at the fortresses, I got that amazing feeling again - the one where you realize you would've never known this place existed if I'd never left home. There is so much to life I have no idea about, it's scary.

Anyway, it was bloody freakin' hot at the fortresses, so we hopped on over to the beach (photo in previous posting). Richard, who is this funny Australian man my company has employed in Aceh since 2005, is determined that I have a good time here, so he suggested that we all get coconuts to drink. Coconuts! Who's gonna say no to that?

But sure enough, five minutes in the car later, we pulled up to this beachside roadstop, grabbed a couple of benches and waited in the breeze while barman chopped open our coconuts. I was tempted to ask hiim to carve a face in mine, but good taste held me back :)

Anyway (and this must be the theme) it was not at all what I expected. Coconuts you normally think of from Hawai'i - or see in the grocery store - had nothing on these things. They were enormous! The barman had chopped off the bottom, to make it sit flat, and cut open a hole in the top, and served it with a spoon, a straw and either sugar or a lime. I joked that perhaps I could make a jack-o-lantern out of it when I was done.

Richard explained that different coconuts have different tastes. I was surprised to find that my coconut "milk" was a clear bitter water - not at all sweet or milk-like. It was kind of gross, actually. But Richard went on, stating that coconut "milk" is actually very good for you - life-sustaining actually - as it is full of minerals and vitimans - and a sterile, drinkable fluid in a place that doesn't have alot of that. "Nature's gatorade" is what he called it. So of course, I had to drink up (I added a lot of sugar, though).

I was also surprised by the nut flesh. I actually really love coconut - flavorings, shavings, you name it, I'll eat it. But I wasn't prepared for the soggy flesh of a coconut that still had the "milk" in it. It was white, yes, but it was slimey, squishy and soft. I scraped what I could from the side, which then landed in the "milk" which then clogged up my straw. Honestly, I was having a hard time. I finally resigned myself to sipping what I could from the hole and calling it a day.

As it turns out, it cost about $2.80 for five coconuts, a bottle of water and all the pre-packaged cookies you could shake a stick at. Not a bad haul for a Saturday afternoon!

Today I am off to see the rest of the "sights" of Banda Aceh. As it's Sunday, the day of rest, I am resigned NOT to work and to simply enjoy myself. If yesterday is any indication, I'm sure I'm in for a great time.

More later -
M.

The Cake!

With Desy standing next to it. The "Rosettes" are in the little baggies hanging off of the "branches". Or whatever they are.

A Few Wedding Photos

Random Wedding

Today, I went along with a few of the company staff to an Acehnese wedding, held in a small village adjacent to the city of Banda Aceh. The groom was head of the community service organization that my company had helped set up in the village to help them after the tsunami. In fact, one of the grants that we gave them was for the women's association to create community wedding clothes needed for the various ceremonies - and this wedding was it's first test run.

After doing a few hours work in the decrepit office this morning, Desy (our MIS and Office Manager) arrived with her two friends to take me (and our Program Implementation Manager, Richard) to the wedding. On the way, we passed no less than five other wedding parties - either walking on the side of the road, or in a a flower-and-ribbon decorate car in traffic. I asked Desy if there has been an upsurge in weddings since the tsunami, and she said yes, most young people are trying to move on. Next week, Dwi, one of our bookkeepers, is also getting married. Like many others, it will be a second wedding for him, as he lost his first wife during the tsunami.

I really didn't know what to expect - mostly I just fretted over the long white skirt I (thankfully) remembered to pack. The practical slits (um, so I can walk) that come up only to my knees seemed awfully .... sexy, in comparison to what the other women were wearing. But oh well, I just sucked it up and hoped that my "bule" (boo-lay) -ness would give me a pass for being indiscrete.

While we didn't attend the wedding itself, the reception was held outdoors - I think at someone's house. It's hard to tell. Basically, it was a bunch of houses lumped together, with the men sitting (and eating) on one side and the women on the other. One room housed the wedding cake (I WISH I could that photo to attach - it's amazing!) and another, smaller room, swatched all in pink, was where the bride and groom sat, greeting well-wishers.

We were immediately swept into this tin 10room, which had thirty or forty dishes of food spread on the floor, along with five or six of the groom's male family members. The bride and groom sat up on a little stage, atop three steps, with a silvery curtain around them. They both wore the most elaborate costumes, decorate from head to foot in glittering gold and silver (Desy told us later that it was most assuredly not "real" gold - ha!). The bride wore an amazing delicate silvery headdress that covered her entire head and hung down the sides of her face. The best part was that, as it was STIFILING in the room, they had two little girls dressed in princess costumes fanning them.

Now, navigating squatting on the floor in a skirt is always a challenge. But try not pointing your dirty dirty feet at anyone, whilst squashing your food up in small balls with your right hand (aka non-dominant) and feeding yourself? 'Twas a challenge indeed. Luckily, I like being the center of attention, so when I saw little children pointing and laughing at me through the doorway, I just winked and laughed back at them. The dishes themselves were awesome - fried chicken (home ocoked and from KFC up the road - I'm dead serious), a beef curry, fried potatoes, watermelon, stewed pineapple, some jackfruit stew of some sort, something else spicey and meaty and little tiny dishes of water to wash your hands, both before AND after eating. I managed only to get a small dot of curry on my blouse, so I consider it an unmitigated success.

They even started taking the food away and I was STILL eating! Oh dear. It was that good.

After hanging arounda bit more (and shaking all the blood back into my legs, as I had to squat on my knees to eat) , we checked out the amazing tree-like wedding cake. It was taller that Desy, and had small intricate twigs branching out from the core. On each twig were enormous, sugarfrosted - well, for lack of a better word - rosettes. It looked awesome!

All in all, everyone was very friendly and curious. The English here is quite limited (even more so than Japan) but I find the people I'm working with and run into in daily life are so darned sweet, it doesn't matter much. Of course, it's hard being so out of place, but it was fun. And did I mention, the food was delicious?

M.

By Popular Demand (Anthro Girl)

After 45 minutes, this is the only one I could get to upload. Me, on the beach. I've also got several of me drinking milk from a coconut, but that will have to wait until later.

Banda Aceh

After taking a four hour plane ride (1st to Medan, the third largest city in Indonesia, where I got out, mistakenly thinking I could buy some lunch in the medeval airport), I landed in Banda Aceh, land of the tsunami.

First of all, let me say that I love exiting a plane right on to the tarmac. I've met quite a few lovely countries this way, with mountain views and the country smells hitting you RIGHT AWAY - instead of being directed through a sterile maze of flourscent lights and lost baggage. So I knew, when I got off in Banda Aceh, that I was gonna love this place.

It's gorgeous. Again, I was completely taken aback - first with Jakarta and now with Banda Aceh. I didn't expect it to be so lush! I'd landed just after a heavy rainstorm, and the clouds still hung like puffy wet curtains above us, threatening to drain down. The sky was all shades of beautiful grey and dark purple. Contrasted to the greenish blue mountains in the distance (mountains! who knew?) and the humid hot-breath air - I was in love.

I thought I had been the only westerner off the plane, but at the tiny baggage claim (literally, one convator belt of about 10 feet long) I saw several more. I was even treated with a highlighter made sign at the exit with my name : USAID-Merdith.

I don't think I'll ever get used to getting into a car with a strange man who speaks no english, just by virtue of the fact that he had my name on a sheet of paper. I thought little of my precarious situation though, as there was really nothing I could do about it! (I have a mobile, but who would I call? What would I say?)

Ahem, anyway. The drive from the airport to the office, I discovered, was located just where the water ended - so no real tsunami signs remain after two years. I'm told that further down, closer to the water, there are more telling signals, but as I'm not here for the "death and destruction" tour, I doubt I will see any of it. From what I can tell, Banda Aceh is a town recovering - much poorer than Jakarta surely - but definitely survived.

That's all I have for today, as my battery is dying and I left the converter at the office. On tonight's agenda: cut my bangs, eat some seafood and correct some field reports. My hotel is brand spanking new (July 07) which seems so weird, in a tropical place where things are more likely in a state of disrepair rather than sparkling. Again, I find this development racket very ....conflicting...

M.