Saturday, February 21, 2009

maroc... actually a vacation - by b

i had a really good time in morocco (vs the stress of israel a few weeks ago). it definitely spoke to me. i loved the bustle of the people, the beautiful old architecture and the kind of beatupness of it. in fact, last night here in barcelona, i was missing it and craving the energy. arel was at a sleepover and i was having no luck convincing dorian and kristin to leave The House on the Hill of Inertia.. so I headed to town with my book and read and read in a couple of bars in our extended neighborhood.



i love small airports and the one in marrackech certainly is small. very mellow. i had a feeling as soon as we walked off the back of the plane and onto the tarmac that this was going to be a good vacation


after a severely dour passport official processed us we entered the main hall of the airport. here is the ceiling. a modern take on the patterns that are everywhere.. the tiles, the window shutters...



the walls


kristin had arranged a taxi online from spain. the driver's name was fatah. of course this made me think of the fatah party in the west bank and i couldn't remember if fatah meant victory or struggle. now that i'm writing i looked up fatah in wikipedia ("The name Fatah (Arabic: فتحFatḥ, meaning "opening" or "victory") is a reverse acronym of the Arabic حركة التحرير الوطني الفلسطينيth Ḥarakat al-Taḥrīr al-Waṭanī al-Filasṭīnī, meaning "Palestinian National Liberation Movement". Ḥataf (حتف) means "sudden death", so the word was reversed to yield Fataḥ (فتح) meaning "opening". [1] The word Fatah is prominently used for the Islamic expansion in the first centuries of Islamic history, and so has a positive connotations for Muslims.")

Anyway.. here are Fatah and Kristin in his large old mercedes.


back of the taxi


Todd the Brit met us at the taxi stand in Essaouira, took us to his house and then gave us his tour of the town. Here he is walking kristin and the kids (i'm sure dorian was sighing!) along the ramparts about a minute from the house...


we found a fez in the house


i went out for a run early the next morning. i was on the beach and it was really misty. i couldn't see very far ahead. every once in a while i'd hear these grunts and yells.. and then i'd come across an early saturday morning football game on the beach.



roof terrace.. it wasn't really warm enough to hang out up there.. but it was beautiful to sit for a while and hear and smell the sea



out for a coffee and a hot choco with arel at place moulay hassan --- the main square in town


ocean vagabond at the beach.. dorian about to bite into his "oceanique"


going for a ride on the dunes







my feelings twoards garbanzo beans have changed this year. i'm a fan now. these salted ones, a bit al dente, were supertasty



satellite tv from all over the arab world. i don't know if this was a game show or some kind of judge judy thing.. but i had to watch for a while.


morning coffee


more doing not much of anything at all at ocean vagabond


dorian's slippers


oh... the real world out there... but for these few days....


kristin and a seagull


shrimp and henna


another ride.. here is arel with a guide on another horse


he was an acrobat we found out when we got to an old castle with a wall for jumping


arel wasn't up for flipping, but he did some jumping. here he is with yusuf.. a berber from the village right next to essaouira called diabet (where jimi hendrix hung out for a couple of weeks)


my horse was, in fact, called jimi hendrix. arel's was che guevarra. the dog that came along was named scooby doo. on the way back we galloped. i was alone. but arel got adult supervision for the fast run back.


leaving essaouria on our secnod-last day.. heading to grab some breakfast at place moullay hassan and then to the bus stop. the house we stayed in was gorgeous. the street... kinda skank in the mornings after a night of wind


in marrackech we stayed in a really nice riad... a house with an interior garden. it was a mid-end place by price... and really nice.


the pool wasn't exactly warm.. but those are our bedrooms thru the door. the boys had the idea of filling the bathtub with warm water and going back and forth. hottub.




as kristin wrote, we left the boys at the riad (not in the pool) and walked the couple of minutes to Djemaa el Fna. we walked in the covered markets for a while and then out onto the square where the nighttime food stands were just getting setup. we stopped for some very sweet tea and a ginger cake with sesame. this is the place we walked later again, after supper. i don't have photos of the stands then.. in fact i don't have photos of the most incredible things i saw in morocco. i don't really have either the skill or the camera to take the pictures i really want to.. this square of Djemaa el Fna is really incredible.







last day... a mellow day...morning run


goofing off in the room




To Airport
we walked out of the medina the way we came in... we found a "grand taxi" vs the "petit" that only takes three people .. and headed to airport

evolution gogo - by b

dorian found these cool little plastic characters in spain called Evolution GoGo Crazybones. and, it turns out, they have many uses. in essaouira we hid them and searched for them. it was fun, with the added bonus that the seeker got a good 10 or 15 minutes of quiet time while the hiders hid. during one of these quiet times i was in one of our many!! bedrooms. (it is a real drag Kim, Jim, Emma and Myles (KJEM?) couldn't make it to use some of the rooms ... we woulda had fun). Here are some... the kids just call them Evolution GoGos.

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i was lying on my back on the bed and i noticed a shape above the light hanging from the ceiling.

170220094613

was it an echo, a memory, a shadow of a jewish star? here in this very muslim place? some of the lines were removed but i could easily complete the shape in my mind.

not that long ago essaouira had many jews living in it. some people say a majority of the town were jewish, others say it was 40%. either way, it's a lot of jews per capita. one morning i walked out of town to the jewish cemetery (there are actually two). this is what is left of jews here --- cemeteries (if your french is better than mine you can read about them here) and a synagogue that doesn't get much use. i called the synagogue and a caretaker let me in. it was really beautiful inside. with the most amazing tiles and designs.. very humble and very beautiful. A hint of a rich culture lived by a poor people

what's left of jews in essaouira are hints... like the imagined or real sign on the ceiling

as i lay there on the bed and thought about this it didn't make me sad. the story here was different to the story in europe where what's left of jews (and really so many other people too) are ghosts.

these jews left here in the 1950s for israel. and they are there now. for better or for worse. they are apparently even officially welcome to return to essaouira.

lying there kind of reminded me of walking around the lower east side of manhattan, in alphabet city, and seeing the remains of synagogues.

neighborhoods change, people move on. evolution. gogo

lawyer salad by k

i forgot to write about the "lawyer" salad, with "but," that we almost ordered in marrakech. funny translation from french to english..."avocat" (avocado) to lawyer and maïs (corn) to "but." i'm not sure what lawyer or but taste like, but i decided to stick with the couscous!

Friday, February 20, 2009

morocco by k

i’m sitting here in our very tall bed looking out at the atlantic ocean. it is quite a view. over the ramparts of the old medina in essaouira, onto an outcropping of rocks with tide pools. we hear the sound of the sea all day and night...it’s nice. the sound reminds me of staying in the first apartment my dad rented after my parents separated...it was right by the beach in la jolla and i could hear the waves there always too.

we’re staying in an apartment in the medina (old walled city) here...down a narrow street with all kinds of goodies on the ground, from fish guts, to cut up snake (according to barak) and other pungent items. we also have a resident crazy guy who hangs at the end of the passageway, talking to himself all day, wearing pink converse sneakers.

it’s a very nicely redone place...three stories of house with a terrace on the roof. it’s all very simple and well-cared for by the woman who comes daily, rashida. there is a long, deep bathtub which takes at least a half hour to fill because water pressure is very low, but it’s worth it. i can lie down completely flat head to feet in the bottom, so we’ve had several multi-person baths over the days. especially nice after a windy day at the beach!

we were supposed to spend the week with our friends, kim and jim, and their kids emma and myles. unfortunately, emma and then myles got the flu days before they were scheduled to leave, so they had to cancel. very disappointing...we were all really looking forward to hanging out with some friends from home and sharing this experience. alas, it was not meant to be.

one of the owner’s of the apartment, a british guy, gave us a tour of the medina on our first day here. he told us where all the good places to eat lunch are, but added each time (at least 10, no kidding) that he “doesn’t take lunch.” needless to say, this became a standing joke that has lasted the whole trip, even more so after he dropped by the next day after having “taken lunch with friends.” i bit my tongue and didn’t say, but i thought you don’t take lunch! he and his wife were here to try to make the internet work, to no avail. that’s the only annoying thing about this place...we specifically chose it because it has internet. instead of getting really worked up, i ended up canceling all my appointments for the week and moving on, moroccan-style. in some ways, it has been nice to be unplugged, but it has also been frustrating. we went once to an internet cafe, but the keyboards were so different from what we’re used to that i kept my messages very short!

as sven told us, essaouira is a mellow place. there are lots of places to buy things, but you are not constantly harangued. a few “i’m still waiting for you to come in” or “you’re coming back tomorrow...promise” but it’s not oppressive at all. that is a relief. of course, if you show any interest, they are there ready to serve, so we have mostly skipped shopping of any kind.

i did get a bit swindled today...i guess it had to happen at some point! we were on the beach and i was playing hopscotch with arel and dorian. a woman came up to us offering to henna. i said no, merci. she said tomorrow? i said, sure, maybe tomorrow. should have walked away at that point. then she grabs my hand and says, a flower for good luck. now, i thought, okay, she’s just trying to hook me. a little flower is okay. well, that turned into a big flower and then a scorpion for arel and dorian. barak was to the side working on a sand castle...fortunately he escaped. i said how much, thinking it would be a few dollars, but she wanted 40 euros! considering that the average moroccan earns (according to lonely planet) only about 4 euros a day, i knew this was outrageous, but what is a girl to do when the goods are already transferred?! well, i got it down to about 30 euros, but i’m still mad at myself for not stopping and setting a price first. i’m trying to look at it as my essaouira community donation, so i don’t feel like an idiot. it’s not so much the money as the way it happened. i guess, one swindle for the trip is not too bad.

arel, dorian and barak went camel riding on the beach one day. it was too cold and windy for me. both kids said it was “awesome!” barak and arel went horseback riding today...dorian and i decided to pass on that adventure. they had a great time, riding with the berber horsemen. hopefully one of them will write about it.

our favorite place to hangout is called the ocean vagabond...it’s at the end of the long beach that begins next to town. there is a big outdoor patio, near the area where one can rent camels and horses, and close to some dunes. comfy chairs and mattresses invited us to stay for hours. us, and the very french population of visitors. arel and dorian had fun rolling on the sand dunes, and even found a few desert tortoises...funny to see them slowly make there way across the sand. little footprints that slowly disappear in the wind. i did not want sand in every orifice of my body, so i waited for them at the bottom of the dunes. i positioned myself to keep sand exposure to a minimum, but then had the wonderful idea of putting lip ointment on. within one millisecond, my lips were coated in fine sand...yuck! i got up and crossed to the beach where i waited for them to finish their dunes exploration. yesterday we hung out at a hotel closer to town owned by the same people. kids played in the pool and we had lunch there.

we went to a traditional moroccan dinner one night. it took so long for the food to come that dorian fell asleep with his head on my lap after the first course. i had couscous, which was really yummy...better than couscous at home. barak had a tagine and arel had some fish. fortunately, dorian was just going to sample from our second courses, so he didn’t have more food coming. he swears he didn’t fall asleep in the restaurant, but we know the truth!

one night we had a picnic in the “winter room” at home. no windows and heated. we ate roast chicken, some couscous leftovers, bread and mint tea. breakfast has mostly been a round bread that is traditional here, with butter and jam, and tea and coffee. i also invented moroccan pockets...round bread stuffed with scrambled eggs. arel and dorian really like those.

today we decided to have fresh fish by the port. there is a series of shacks that bbq whatever fish or seafood you choose. sven had told me about it and i thought we should try it before leaving. dorian did not want to go...the floors are wet, the fish looks gross, it stinks! the boy has a point, but we went anyway. dorian ate a tiny bit, but found his peace by feeding a kitten under the table. at one point, dorian asked barak to give him some crab, which barak dutifully pulled apart for his precious son, only to learn that it was really for the kitten.

overall, i feel very comfortable and safe here. i did notice a big difference in the way i’m looked at when i’m walking with kids or alone. i much prefer the shelter that being with kids gives. as a mother, it seems i am due some respect.

both barak and i have had sort of surprising (to us) experiences in cafes or bakeries when we didn’t have the right change...instead of making a big deal, waiters simply said, you bring money next time. only 25 or 30 cents, but that is not insignificant here. they didn’t seem to have any doubt that we would return...which of course we did!

there seems to have been a big influx of tourists in the past few days. the first days, it really felt like we were some of the few tourists around. most tourists here are french, after that i’d say british and then a smattering from other places. i imagine it is overrun by tourists in the summer...i don’t think i’d like it then.

i have realized that i still have some knowledge of french, but that it sucks! it’s very frustrating because there are some things i can say, but many many holes. at this point, those holes are often filled by catalan, which doesn’t get me anywhere here. i really wish i could speak at least french, but preferably arabic...i feel that i get a lot more out of a place if i can communicate with locals in their own language. my other problem is that the little i can say in french i can do with a passable french accent, so people think i really speak. but then they answer and i have no idea what they’re saying, or hear wrong. just an exercise in frustration!

tomorrow we leave for one afternoon/evening in marrakech before heading back to barcelona. dorian is sick of old, stinky, dirty places, so i’m pretty sure he’s going to dislike it there too. arel is mostly okay with it all.

what have i noticed about myself? i am fundamentally uncomfortable on a certain level in poor countries. i don’t like the constant selling, the constant need, or any of the bargaining. when i can speak the language, i feel somewhat better because it is easier to show respect for others. but it reminds me how unfair the world is. i know the money we spend there helps the locals, but still, it just feels weird to me. in some ways, i’m jealous of people who are happy being served and catered to. for me, it makes me so uneasy that i can’t enjoy things in the same way. i felt guilty whenever rashida, our housekeeper, was there, and we told her to only stay for a couple hours each day, which she was more than happy to oblige.

traveling with kids. i’m always reminded how different it is than traveling as an adult. things need to go right. of course, we want them to go right as adults too, but we can handle glitches better. kids like predictability (at least mine), and i am finally willing to spend more money now to have it. we took a taxi from the airport in marrakech to essaouira (2 ½ hours) because i didn’t want to risk the bus being full. you can’t buy or reserve bus tickets outside of morocco, and i could literally see and feel us arriving at the bus station after the aiport and having there be no room. arel would sigh loudly, dorian would start crying, and barak would be annoyed that we were taking the bus to save a little money. not worth it anymore! we did get to take the bus back to marrakech, saving nearly 50 euros, which in my twisted logic paid for the henna debacle on the beach! dorian actually wanted to take the bus, and since we could reserve tickets ahead of time, it was a perfect solution.

*****************
i’m now on another bed...this time looking out over barcelona from our bedroom as it gets dark. we got home a few hours ago and are all happy to be home.

our trip ended in marrakech, which is a really wild place. i was kind of entranced by it in a way, but also repelled. dorian was plain old repelled. arel was kind of into, but was not happy after he and barak went out this morning and saw two men having a fight...apparently a knife was involved. scary. i also noticed a few fights between boys in essaouira that seemed...it’s hard to describe exactly, but they were hard and violent. when i looked in their eyes, there was very real anger in the aggressor and very real fear in the victim. reminded me that they probably have very difficult lives.

merchants are definitely more intense in marrakech than in essaouira. they grab your arm, put the hat on your head that they want you to buy, put the monkey on your shoulder. you literally have to push them away. if you keep your eyes dead ahead and don’t slow at all, you’re okay, but it’s hard to relax that way. and i couldn’t really get close to the snake charmers after i read that they sew the snakes mouths shut, leaving just enough room for the tongue to flick through. apparently, many snakes die of mouth infections...just kind of depressing.

at one point, barak and i left the kids in the riad where we were staying and he and i wandered into the souks (markets). it is crazy how much stuff there is. some of it very beautiful, some it of total crap. i was too overwhelmed to want to engage with anyone and i didn’t really want anything. i’m still in my anti-acquiring mode. i imagine there are some real treasures to have there, if you have the patience, but on this trip, i didn’t. as we came out of the souk, the day was winding down and the main “place” in town was gearing up for the evening. very charming metal stands were being set up all over the place with makeshift stalls selling grilled food, soups, snails and sheep heads. apparently this ritual happens every night. (barak saw the sheep heads...i didn’t.) that i really liked. very festive, smoke rising into the dusk, lots of energy. we were pretty sure we wouldn’t be able to convince dorian to eat out there, but when it started to pour, our fate was sealed. if i ever go back to marrakech, i want to eat at one of those stands!

oh yeah, the other thing i loved was the atlas mountains covered in snow as the backdrop to marrakech. it was crystal clear the day we arrived from barcelona and really quite spectacular. i was looking forward to seeing it again, but yesterday it was all hazy and if you didn’t know there were mountains, you would have had no idea. today, after the rain, they were visible, but didn’t leave the impression of the first day.

one more random thing i was struck by. that was the call to prayer every day. or rather, my reaction to it. the first time i heard the muslim call to prayer was in jakarta with my dad many years ago. i remember at that point that it was just interesting...a different culture. again, i felt no weirdness about it, which surprises me a bit because of my negative reaction to most things religious. especially when they announce themselves...although, come to think of it, church bells don’t annoy me either. anyway, i remarked this to barak and he said maybe it didn’t bug me because we didn’t see anyone actually praying. or maybe because i couldn’t understand what is being said. anyway, i have to admit that i like hearing it.

okay, that’s it for now. i imagine soon barak will start putting up some of the great pictures he took, and some of his thoughts about morocco.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button by A!


Last night i went with my friends family to see the curious case of benjamin button. It got nominated for like 13 oscars...but i didnt really like it. It was sooo long: 2 hours and 45 minutes. It really just dragged on and on and on. Brad Pitt was so good in it though. The stroy is basically about a guy who is born old, and instead of going from young to old, he goes from old to young. I felt really bad for my friends little brother benji because he is like 8 and had to sit through almost 3 hours of pure boredom.anywway if ur a grown up reading this, then i highly reccommend this movie, but if ur a kid, prepare to be bored out of your mind.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

staying or going by k

there was a time a few weeks ago when i was itching to bring my thoughts about staying or going to this blog. there was so much swirling in my head. but barak and i both wanted to first talk about it with our families. after doing that i think some of my need/desire to share waned. the discussion was started.

for me, for better or worse, this is a an emotional decision and not one based on facts and figures and logic. the more "logical" decision is probably to go back, but i think we could also make a logical decision to stay if we tried.

whether we stay or not, i have to own that in some deep and inexplicable way, i feel at home in europe. something in me is quenched when i am here. i'm not even sure what that is, but it is there. and so, if we head back, part of me will be sad.

21 years ago, i faced a similar decision. my year abroad was ending, but i didn't feel ready to leave. i stayed six more months before making the logical decision to return to berkeley and finish my undergraduate degree. i don't regret that decision, but i wonder at it. is logic always the best road to follow?

of course, all these years later i'm in a very different place. there is a lot more to go back to this time....family, friends, a house, a community, yummy food, my little yellow mini. and yet, if i'm honest, something in me longs to stay.

barak has asked me what i think a second year would bring. i have no concrete answer to that. some people say "stay!" and some say "come back!" and everyone has said they will support us either way. stay tuned...

Friday, February 6, 2009

dreaming of a decision - by b

here are some pictures i've taken lately... together they seem to make up a weird dream, barely remembered in the morning. a dream of trying to make a decision. a strange blog post. but this is the land of dali, no?

estrella d.
Questioning the role of desire


we need to talk
We need to talk


man, smoking, slither of sun
A man...


slither of sun engulfs man
...engulfed by the light when i turn back to look


ad
what's inside?


eye check machine
not all vision can be checked scientifically


a reminder
not always easy to do


Shhhh
listening for a sign from the gut


Morning meeting
just visiting? the planet?


020220094116
too much thinking?


imagining a future of sweet memories
how many years?


the doubt
doubt


thinking of returning?
thinking of returning


378
378


deliberate spanglishing
not either or or, but AND


ad
dreams can come true

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

terrorists? what terrorists? another cerveza por favor - by b

after an early morning run today i popped into my local coffee shop (sadly it's a repsol gas station.. but ok) and bought myself a coffee and a newspaper to practice some spanish.

la, la, la.... la, la, la i get to page 13 or so on the bottom left and i read that yesterday the police here in barcelona had arrested about 10 members of a suspected al queda cell who allegedly were falsifying documents for the terror network.

no wonder people seem calmer here. in the u.s., my god, this would have been a screaming front-page headline spooking the bejeebies out of everybody

i don't know much (actually anything) about the relationship between the media and the government here --- except that not that that long ago this place was a dictatorship, so i imagine a certain deference to power exists here amongst the press. i don't know whether this is a deliberate keep-the-people-calm policy, or just a truly cultural attitutde that some stuff just isn't worth getting superfreeked about.

it is, potentially, a bit concerning no? it wasn't that long ago when terrorists bombed trains in madrid. and spain is kind of a symbolic patch of land for expansionist, conservative islamists who would like to see the iberian pensinsula back under their control once again.

i don't really know either what the true deal is in the states. is fear a deep-seated cultural fact? are the media there (mostly very large, publicly traded companies) in cahoots with the government where, pre-obama at least, fear-mongering sold votes and sold defense budget allocations. or is it the wheels of commerce that know that fear sells papers, webviews and tv ratings.

something to ponder

Monday, February 2, 2009

desire - by b

"been thinkin and thinkin till there's nothin i ain't thunk"

it's time to express pure desire... because the think-a-thon* is getting me nowhere

i desire barcelona

i desired it when i first ever saw it many years ago

the buildings

the way people (especially women it seems) kind of lean towards each other and engage in intense conversations on buses, benches... wherever

the cafe i was in earlier

and the one i am in now

the sweat on the shiny beer taps

the patterns --- in the sidewalks, the windows, the floors, the walls and the clothes from local companies like custco and desigual (these patterns seem to hark far far far back to ancient moorish times)

perhaps because of all of the above and because of other unseen things, i feel at peace when i walk around here. content. at peace. if you know me then you know that those are rare feelings for me to have in large doses. i have them here. i desire that!

i am not going to put photos of these things (the things that can be seen) in this blog because what they look like to anybody else is not the point. the point is that i desire them. me. for reasons i can't explain. i simply desire them.

and my first job is to express my desire

my next job is to ask myself what it would feel like to make a decision based on my desire? the decision of whether to stay in barcelona or return to san francisco for next year.

once i make this decision for myself then i can have a real conversation with kristin about it.. and we can figure out what we want to do as a family.

so... what would it be like to make a decision based on desire?

here are some words that come to mind: dilettante, guilty, spoiled, short-sighted, irresponsible, selfish, weak, dreamer, luftmensch.

in other words, desire is somehow an illegitimate factor in decision making.

when we first started contemplating coming here for this year i had a lot of thinky reasons, mostly to do with work. i was walking by the beach in los angeles with my dad on a saturday (he was doing his chemo at the time ... and though things looked positive we didn't know for sure that he would, in fact, be ok as has turned out to be the case) and he basically suggested that i admit that i just wanted to go --- and go

and we did go. and somehow staying (here now) seems scarier to desire.

so i find myself getting all-thinky again

but enough

i am going to state my desire for barcelona

i am even going to state my desire to stay in barcelona

and i am putting myself on notice that none of those undermining words i whisper to myself are in fact relevant. they are not useful. they are not true.

i am not sure if in the end my decision... my stand... will be based on desire alone. it might even go against my desire and i might even be fine with that.

but it is time for me to state my desire clearly and unequivocally.



*thanks to YLS in LA for the word think-a-thon

Thursday, January 29, 2009

half time - by b

we are half way through our time here---mas o menos. and some of you now know that we are thinking of possibly staying another year.

or not

auuuuurrrghhh!!! what to do???

sure we have some months before we are scheduled to return to s.f..... lotsa time to decide. but certain people need to know now (or reasonably soon) principally the kids' schools here and there.

what do i want to do?

both!

my feelings on this matter have not changed ... but the nature in which i feel them has. In the early days here these feelings came to me in an almost euphoric way... I would walk around the city ecstatic wanting both san francisco and barcelona, wanting to never die because i wanted to cram it ALL in, wanting somehow to live this life and then know i would get the chance to live another. they were impossible feelings... yet impossibly happy.

now i just think about it.... and it is a pain in the culito....

soon we'll decide one way or another .. and accept the decision.. but for now ....

i suppose its appropriate i went out alone the other night to see woody allen's "vicky cristina barcelona" ... kristin had seen it before we left the states and i somehow didn't get around to it

it's a movie about wanting it all.. and, of course, not being able to have it all

yo entiendo

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

channeling pippi by k

dorian has been reading all the adventures of pippi longstocking recently, and i have had the pleasure of reading some chapters outloud to him. it's been fun! when i was little and wore my hair in braids people always called me pippi. back then, i don't think i realized how great she was...super strong (literally and figuratively), independent, mischievous, generous, confident, and on and on. i've decided i need to channel the pippi in me more. this sentence from the end of the last adventure, when she is about to leave the island of kurrekurredutt in the south pacific, made me smile and wish i could feel more like this!

"This trip will turn out to be a real beauty treatment for me. I have more freckles and am therefore more beautiful than ever. If this keeps up, I shall be irresistible."

Sunday, January 25, 2009

yesterday's winds - by b

it is quiet ... very still today

yesterday.... arel's facebook status said "is freaked out by the wind" we left the house early ... it was really picking up... motos were on their sides (this always seems strangely sad to me.... a felled scooter... i am not sure why... it seems like a helpless animal perhaps) we waited a long time at arel's football club as people sorted out directions to the away game... at one point a municipal dumpster blew into the street and arel's coach Aldo and I shoved it back.... during the game out in San Cugat on a sand/gravel field that stung the boys as bits were flying in the air two large trees snapped and fell over.... thankfully away from the field not on it!!!.... i heard the massive crack (it was likely two cracks.. but simultaneous) from across the pitch.... It seemed very spanish somehow that the ref didn't call the game.... The kids were very emotional.... I dont think they even noticed the trees... Their skin and eyes were burning from the wind and sand and the pretty brutal stalemate match (6 to 6 when the ref finally blew the final whistle) on the way home many many more trees were down....including one massive magestic one near school.... one route to our house was blocked ... and at home the news that kids had been killed in the building in which they were sheltering from the wind

today we walked around... this car was a shock... down our hill on our walk


Wednesday, January 21, 2009

new president by k

i'm still a bit in a state of disbelief that we have a new president. i imagine soon it will start to feel real, as obama begins making decisions and little by little things change. these changes will probably have little direct impact on my life, but they will change the tone of the country. the tone has already changed.

i read an article in the new york times this morning about obama's extended family...what a range of backgrounds and beliefs. i don't think i had really thought about it before because families like his are not a rarity in our world, but wow, what a change! what a wonderful change. i kept looking at his daughters during the inaugural ceremony and thinking how to them their extended family and even the inauguration are in some ways simply their childhood experience...just the way things are...not different or strange. but for many, this was the culmination of a dream they never thought would come true. for others, even if i can't fathom it, the inauguration was a nightmare. where on the spectrum am i?

obviously i see the historical significance of this moment. a black president, a first. but i guess on some level it doesn't really surprise me because i was ready for a black president, or a woman or anyone else who is qualified and smart a long time ago. more shocking for me was that bush became president...two times! but maybe it was the bush detour that helped get us here. i only wish four years had been enough to "correct course" instead of the eight years we suffered through. i am moved and relieved and happy, but it's not a momentous moment for me in the same way it is for the black community, and possibly for other minority groups. it just can't be. i haven't walked in those shoes. if it had been hillary clinton up there or another woman, i would have felt it on a different level. i hope i'll live to see that, too!

i went to a "democrats abroad" party yesterday evening to watch the inauguration. i hadn't done anything on election day and felt somehow that i had missed out on the collective experience. this time i wanted to be around people who were also happy. arel had wanted to come with me, but since he spent the entire previous night throwing up (food poisoning, i think), he decided not to go. barak wasn't as interested in going, so the plan was he would stay with dorian, who had no interest whatsoever. despite dorian's lack of interest, i think it is a day he'll remember on some level...arel too.

i met a woman there who said that in some ways she had bush to thank for her current life...indirectly, of course. she is a married to a catalan man and has one or two children (i can't remember exactly). she's american, but left a few years ago because she couldn't take the political landscape anymore. she also said she felt proud to be an american yesterday. i paused. did i feel proud to be an american? i couldn't bring the words to my mouth. i guess that's just not the way i think. i felt very happy for the united states. i felt more optimistic. i felt thrilled to know bush was leaving office. i felt thankful that obama referred to "our forebearers" instead of "our forefathers" in his speech...subtle, but for me a major shift in tone. i felt pleased that when he listed religions, he included "and non-believers." another acknowledgement of a different way. but for whatever reason, i wouldn't say i felt proud to be an american. i guess i don't feel proud in the collective sense. what is an american, anyway?

often, in significant moments like this, i wonder what my dad would have made of it all. he immigrated to the united states because he felt it was a much more open society, with more possiblities and more free-thinking than germany, or europe in general. i don't think he would have said he was proud the be an american yesterday, either, but i do think he would have said that this is the country he wanted to immigrate to, this is what he was looking for. i think he would have been very happy to see obama become president. and i know he would have had some joke for barak about sharing a name with the president. i'm not sure what form it would have taken, but it would have been there.

i assume our new president is asleep now...four in the morning in washington, d.c. but maybe not. his days of sleep might be over. what must he feel like today? where will he start? where does one begin when so many fires are burning?

what i do know, is that since yesterday, the united states has changed. and of that, i am proud.

Monday, January 19, 2009

barca - by b

a couple from school invited us to dinner at their place saturday... and the guy invited me to go see the barcelona football club play beforehand. Camp Nou (the stadium) is a short tram ride from their apartment. i felt a bit bad going... really arel should have gone in my place since he is so into the game and me, well, i'm not exactly mr. spectator sports. but this is life. i had fun and it gave some appreciation of arel's world. he and i emailed each other during the game... he was watching on tv. arel had told me about the rousing music that begins each game before they announce the players. here it is



barca, which many consider to the the best football club at this particular moment, eradicated their opponents 5-0.

dinner began around 10:30 (quite spanish, no?)

Friday, January 9, 2009

breathe - by b

i have to get back to work. i have to let go. i have to get the taste of that last heavy blogpost outta my mouth. here's a little sorbet. one of my favorite bands that i mentioned in the last post... singing about vacillating between being in jerusalem and tel aviv. it's funny. it makes me smile.

1 land, 2 stories - by b

it is cold here in barcelona. the kids are back in school. the news out of gaza hasn't changed. i am still trying to make sense of our time in israel. and i'm having a tough time letting go. sure i was born there but i only lived there for one year. in almost every way this is not my battle. i am an outsider

but i do care a lot about the people in that place

and i see that something very different has to happen there before things get better

i feel presumptuous in some ways saying what i'm about to say.. but i feel it/believe it so i am going to say it

there are two stories of that place.. it seems that so many people are so quick to insist on their story and jump down the throat of those on "the other side" and few are listening to the other story.

ok.. first story:

when state visitors or VIPs come to israel for the first time they are generally first taken to yad vashem. yad vashem is on the outskirts of jerusalem and it is kind of the mother of all holocaust memorials. one hall there is a spielbergesque hall where you enter in pitch darkness (as i recall..it's been a long time) and the images of jewish children killed in nazi camps appear on the ceiling and names are read.. it is designed to be chilling and it works. people are taken there first to set a framework, to explain viscerally why israel needs to exist

we didn't go to yad vashem for the same reason we didn't go to dachau when we were in munich a few weeks ago. the kids are too young. there is time for all of this. but we had our yad vashem moment in a much more intimate, real way when we met my grandmother ester for breakfast part way through our trip. she suggested a place called cafe tapuz, a really nice breakfast spot literally in an orange grove. arel and dorian could run around and we could talk. here are some pictures
esther
tapuzim


cafe tapuz

esther was born in tel aviv in what then called palestine (which was british-controlled). she went briefly to her parents' hometown of vienna but returned still as a young child to palestine. (btw, my mom's mom died many years ago in israel and my grandfather and esther married). esther told us the story of her uncle, a communist jewish poet named adolf unger, and his wife and daughter. i found the following picture and details on the web at the documentation center of austrian resistance.

"Poet of the worker's movement, Adolf Unger (born on November 11, 1904) lived with his wife, Sobel (born on März 1, 1905) and his daugther, Annie (born on Jänner 29, 1935), at Stuwerstraße 19/7 in the second district. Whereas Annie succeeded in escaping on a Kindertransport, her parents were caught in France. On September 11, 1942, Sobel and Adolf Unger were deported form Drancy to Auschwitz and murdered shortly upon their arrival."


annie, or honey as esther calls her, came to stay with her cousin esther for a time in what was then palestine. the two remain close. and they have travelled together to vienna where there is now a street named for adolf unger


this is a truly legitimate story of israel in my view. a vast, complex, rich center of jewish culture in europe was under attack and essentially obliterated. and during the decades leading up to this, some rather plucky jews basically said "fuck this!" and did what it took to scurry up some land and create a working "state in waiting" in british-controlled palestine... the holocaust helped legitimize their needs in the minds of the powers that were and the state-in-waiting (the "yishuv" it was called) was turned into the state of israel.

AND there is another legitimate story

here is an arabic word for you: "naqba" it means catastrophe. and it is what the palestinians and other local arabs in israel consider the forming of the state of israel. i really don't think it's out of a natural hatred of jews but rather because their lives rather quickly changed. in fact, from what i understand, arabs and jews had been living sort of ok together in the region for a long time. this is likely because they kind of GOT each other... both jews and muslims had been tossed out of spain in 1492 and there were jewish pockets of culture across the arab world for hundreds of years. it's also probably because there were fewer people and less stress on natural resources then.

but rather suddenly there were a lot of jews (northern european ashkenazim, vs. the southern-european-exiled-to-arab-lands sephardim) showing up in palestine and buying land. they bought the land (they even gladly overpaid for it) from the arab upperclass (called the a'yan) often unbeknownst to the working class arabs (the felahin).

as the felahin learned "that sorry you can't be a tenant farmer here anymore".. another centrifugal force in the region came into being: that of the palestinian refugee

holocaust. naqba

there is no point in trying to do any algebra and figure out who is more of a victim. it doesn't matter. what's important is to 1)recognize that there are two victims here and 2)drop the whole victim bullshit.

ok.. here's where i start to feel presumptuous.. but anyway:

i actually think many jews in many ways dropped the victim bullshit a long time ago.. and that's why they have a state. they use victimhood as rhetoric ... but they don't act like victims.

many palestinians, it seems, both use victimhood as rhetoric and still act like victims. and it's not working.

israel, fueled by self-determination, Worked It smartly and effectively with whatever powers could help them (the first prime minister ben gurion really kept his options open with both the u.s. and the soviets, as an example)

and the palestinians just got angrier and angrier --- and quite ineffectively and quite literally painted themselves into a corner (actually two now-physically disconnected corners --- gaza and the west bank)

you can blame israel for this all you want.. but i don't think this will do anything to get the palestinians a state.

at one point the palestinians had more than enough power and resources to build themselves a state. many people were (still are) sympathetic toward their cause (me included)--in europe, in the arab world, in the u.s. a bit, even in israel. and there is a growing palestinians diaspora that is getting stronger and richer. there was/is/and would be money. i have read that per-capita, palestinians have received more international development assistance in the world than any other people

but where is the palestinian state in waiting?

the palestinians need to TAKE their state. and they need to take it effectively. by carefully looking at what very real powerbase they do have and could build.. and not wasting power by throwing some rockets at israel trying to draw them into a land incursion..... and then hoping the world gets pissed at the tank shellings so that israel tells it's soldiers to get out of the tanks... and then hoping to take hostages..

this is not how to build a state in waiting

by all means, use naqba as rhetoric. but use it as just that.. as rhetoric... build naqba memorials. bring in foreigners and get their money by giving them a tour of the naqba memorial... but don't use actual victims and actual blood and actual human shields to build sympathy.. it doesn't work.. it just doesn't. if it did there would be a palestinian state already

the israelis are far from perfect... there are forces in israeli society that are truly fucked in my view. there is no need for ariel sharon to have stuck a big lighted menorah on a house in al wad street in jerusalem. there is no need for the "city of david" to be built in silwan (see earlier post on our visit to both alwad street and the city of david") and other settlements need to stop. and the israelis could do well to own vs. deny the naqba narrative. it's real

yet the israelis can't solve the palestinians problems for them.. the palestinians need to solve it for themselves -- and actively coopt the ample number of people who would be happy to help them all around the world. and i would posit that a surprising number of israelis would want to help too.. would support a palestinian state.. would be greatly relieved for and welcome smart, creative, strong moves by palestinians

as one of my favorite israeli hip hop bands hadag nachash says in their song "misparim" which means "numbers": "one is the number of countries between the jordan river and the sea/two is the number of countries that will be here one day"

if you want to see more pictures of our time in the state of israel you can see them via my flickr account . you will see lots of smiles. but i must admit that even during these moments.. or most of them.. i felt a certain dread there.. a tension. some people don't mind it.. or don't see it.. or can compartmentalize it.. i am afraid i am not one of those people

Thursday, January 8, 2009

some final thoughts on israel by k

i feel like there is still so much i want to say about our time in israel...small observations, personal insights, etc. and if i don't do it now, they'll slowly slip away. i mean, they won't disappear from my mind in a greater way, but they won't be right on the surface, so here is my attempt to put some of it out there before i fully settle back into barcelona.

please excuse what might appear a haphazard collection of memories...i'm simply going to write them as they come out.

hummus! big thing in israel. everyone has their favorite hummus place, and in our one trip to a supermarket, i had to laugh when i saw a whole refrigerator case devoted to hummus. not a tiny case, either, at least six feet long, full of hummus. big packages, little packages, spicy, not spicy and many other variations i couldn't understand. our apartment was less than a block from one of the "best" hummus places in tel aviv. we ate a lot of hummus. i think it's fair to say, i'm hummused-out, which is a good thing. i really like hummus and it's not at all popular here, but i will be fine with a hummus-free diet for at least a month...then i might start pining again...

the experience of being in israel was for me a little like being home alone at night. by that i mean that the more you think about it, the more you see shadows on the wall that could be monsters or hear sounds that could be an intruder. the more i thought about what was going on in gaza and growing arab anger, the more scary it became. one night as i lay awake in tel aviv, i wondered where we should go if bombs started to drop in tel aviv. the underground parking lot, of course. i even imagined us huddled down there, with the raw cement smell. were bombs going to fall on tel aviv...highly unlikely, but my mind went there.

i also noticed that one door in our apartment was different. it was to a tiny room and you pretty much had to slam the door to close it. it was sort of metal, but not super heavy...almost like there was an air pocket in the middle of the door. we never did ask they guy who rented us the place about that room, but i have to assume that door was there for a purpose, and my guess, since it didn't have a lock on it, was that it would be the place to go if some sort of poisoned gas attack happened. be prepared. again, my mind wandered to a moment when we could need to be in that room...very scary. what must it be like to live with that always? to have to plan for a room that is air-tight in case of a gas attack, or a bomb shelter. when we were sitting on the beach in tel aviv, watching international airlines fly overhead to the airport, israelis playing paddle tennis on the beach, a little dog with a purple cast running around happily, tourists and locals alike eating and drinking in the warm winter sun, it's hard to imagine things like war, and yet the military helicopters flying by every now and again, and the small planes "keeping the perimeter secure" as barak said, is a steady reminder of where you are.

as i wrote in my first post, i really liked the food in israel. but even that comes with some complication when it comes to going out. our first night in jerusalem, barak's relatives recommended we go to a nearby street that has lots of restaurants and cafes. sounded nice. but then barak told me that one restaurant there was bombed several years ago and an american doctor, who ironically specialized in dealing with attacks like that, was killed with his daughter. i started to waver. when dorian put his foot down and said he didn't want to walk more than ten feet, we decided to go to a place just down the block. it felt less like a target, but how do i know that? each time we chose a place to sit, i wondered, could this be a target. most restaurants have security guards, and it does give on some sense of security, but still....

honestly, i also felt a little bad about having all these thoughts. israelis live with these things day in and day out, and chances were very slim that anything would happen to us. it was interesting to get emails from friends and family while we were there. some people expressed worry, some were confident we were fine, some said how brave we were. perceptions and perspectives. i certainly didn't feel brave. and i don't think i even felt stupid for going. i mostly felt confused. how careful should one be? what is the real threat to us? shit happens in the u.s. and other places too, so why be so paranoid. on the flight back, i briefly spoke with a woman whose mother was killed in a bus bombing in jerusalem five years ago. the majority of people live and survive in israel. the majority of visitors come and go. but some don't, and that was almost always on my mind.

we saw reality for an israeli young man when we visited one of barak's cousins, uri, in northern israel. i had met uri in san francisco 14 years ago when his grandmother ester brought him on a trip to the u.s. i remember really liking him. it was his trip before doing his military service. (he told me that after a month in new york back then, where everyone had warned him about violence, it was in san francisco where he saw a police chase out our windowon guerrero street, and a man pulling a woman by the hair on market street. he was shocked that no one did anything to stop it. so his memory of san francisco is definitely not one of peace and freedom. interesting, i thought. it's all what happens in a moment, and he did see a real side to s.f. that we may not like, but is there.) he's 32 now, married to nice woman, irit, who is working on her phd and looking for a job after getting laid off recently (recession is everywhere).

uri and irit were very welcoming, and as we drove to haifa, i rode with them so i could ask them questions about life in israel. too much to relate, and i don't want to misquote, but uri said he's very "leftist" and definitely believes in room for everyone, jews and muslims and christians and anyone else. i didn't get to hear all the details of what that would look like for him because the car ride was not long enough! he said it was probably better to not have that discussion in the arab restaurant where we ate in haifa, especially considering what is going on. on the way back, dorian joined us and i didn't think he needed to hear it either. but i guess the thing that really sticks in my mind is when uri showed us his military gear, all ready to go when/if he gets called up. it could happen any time and he would go. what must it be like to live with that? for uri, for his wife, for ester, for his parents and siblings. we can all argue until we're blue in the face about what the right thing to do is, but in the end, it's individuals, on both sides, who are being effected.

language: our first night in tel aviv, we went to a restaurant in an "up and coming" (ie dirty and rundown and lots of young people) neighborhood next to the place we were staying. let's just say, not many tourists hit this part of town, so the restaraunt we chose only had a menu in hebrew. i couldn't understand a thing. nothing. that was strange because i usually feel that i can at least deduct a few things. barak was able to decipher the drink categories: beer, wine, spirits, etc, but that wasn't super helpful considering we wanted to eat! israelis speak great english, so our waitress was very helpful and told us what was on the menu, but it was strange being so totally helpless. most restaraunts and cafes we went to did have english, but it was a good reminder that one is not always in control.

i won't forget the sign in the israel museum "please check you weapons here." barak didn't get a shot of it, but really stuck out for me. such a mundane thing as a coat check, but for guns!

i went into this trip really wanting barak to take the lead and be in charge. and i could probably write a long essay about barak in israel, but i won't go there. i was determined to take the perspective that everything would work out, even if it was done in a "different" way, or better said, not my way. and things did work out. the times we got totally lost (numerous), barak did manage to get us to our destination. israelis confirmed that streets are not well marked and signs are confusing. add to that a total lack of sense of direction and refusal to plan, and well, our rental car mileage was a little higher than it had to be. why do i write this? not to blame barak, but just to say that part of being in israel for me was to let go, and i did, but it was hard. especially at 3:00 a.m. on our way to the airport when we got lost! heading south, in pitch black, no gas stations...another half hour and we would have made it to gaza! i guess it just had to be the experience through and through, until the very last moment. and we did make it to the airport, we did get on our flight, and everything did work out...now i need a vacation!

do i regret going to israel? not at all. it was a hard trip in many ways, but also very thought-provoking. i finally know what barak is talking about when he mentions neighborhoods or soldiers walking on the street. i better understand the question of israel and how it effects barak's family and relatives. we had some very nice moments, too...mostly seeing people, but also eating and playing at the beach. do i want to go back? impossible to say at this moment. right now i'm glad to be on the other side of the mediterranean, but i also feel sad for the people there and a bit guilty to be able to leave. i think i would feel the same leaving any war-torn place. why can i simply walk away and get back to life? i will say, that i would love to be able to go back and celebrate if peace ever does come to the region, but after being there, i'm not holding my breath or booking a flight. shalom.