tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54236923424723870702024-02-06T20:05:38.410-08:00diane in istanbuldianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-23724659077926178522015-11-20T05:03:00.001-08:002015-11-20T05:03:38.870-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Please help me understand -<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Why are none of my friends draping themselves in Syrian flags and posting this on Facebook?</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An atrocious thing happened last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Terrorists attacked Paris and over 100
innocent people were killed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I ask you, how many innocent people have been killed in
Syria?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As of October 2015 the death toll
within Syria was 250,000 adults and 30,000 children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to mention all those dying trying to
escape. All those living without food and heat and the basic necessities of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why are none of my friends draping themselves in Syrian
flags and posting this on Facebook?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Syrian student sits opposite me in the small
classroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sun streams in from the
window behind him. When he sees me squinting from the sun, he immediately gets
up and lowers the shade to screen my eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ali is that sensitive, that kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is a young Syrian man who was a student in
Aleppo when war broke out five years. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Three times I almost died,” he tells me. “One time a bullet
whizzed past my ear,” he holds his hand just next to his ear and smiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Another time I was saved from a bomb blast
by being lucky enough to be behind a large truck when the bomb hit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And one other time… well Syrian rebels
captured me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wanted to know why I
wasn’t fighting with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘We will kill you as an informer,’ they said, thrusting guns at him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘I’m a student. I’m a student,’ I kept telling them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
‘Prove it,’ they demanded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But how can I prove it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I started to explain some scientific thing to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You must understand these were uneducated
men. They looked at each other and finally let me go…but this is life there.” He raises
his eyebrows and shrugs. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ali is the oldest boy in his family of ten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has two younger brothers and five
sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His father is a doctor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But he hasn’t been able to work for years now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my family has nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no fuel to warm the apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the oldest boy they sent me to Turkey to
try and find a way to help them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
here I cannot go to university even though the UNHCR has said that Syrians can
attend, because I must work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And bosses
here don’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I work twelve hours a
day at a restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I want to go to
university and ask my boss, can I have these days and these hours off, he would
just tell me ‘goodbye.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are so
many other people waiting for a chance at a job.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ali is studying English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His English is excellent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
hopes to be able to go to university in the States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hopes to continue his studies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But now it seems that the US wants to ban all Syrian
refugees from entering the US.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because one maniac terrorist happened to be a refugee.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My father always told us that no people are all one
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each person is an individual and
must not be judged for anything other than who he is.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fight back tears of frustration and exasperation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can the French call all Syrians
‘terrorists’, then bomb Syria, kill hundreds, and not be considered ‘terrorists.’<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shall we get a ‘stimulating beverage',” he asks smiling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week I taught him this phrase when he found me at the
coffee machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he likes using it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two weeks ago Ali told me he had heard from Sarah Lawrence
College in the US and they wanted him to send an essay on his area of
interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been filled with hope
and excitement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, he’s not so sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you think there’s still any hope for me,” he asks, his
big eyes looking into mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do not give up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There’s always hope,” I tell him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>499</o:Words>
<o:Characters>2849</o:Characters>
<o:Company>dianewanderer</o:Company>
<o:Lines>23</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>6</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>3342</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>14.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
But do <i>I</i> believe it? I’m not so sure anymore.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-52623310896147767252014-10-05T07:21:00.001-07:002014-10-05T07:21:49.711-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The Move<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I just moved - on Oct first.
I wasn’t looking for a place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was quite comfortable in my cozy little flat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But then a friend told me that the flat directly across from hers was
now vacant, so I went to check it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The flat was far superior to mine--much bigger: 2 bedrooms instead of 1,
a large salon, a real kitchen, and a view of the Golden Horn. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was less money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was definitely an offer I would have been
silly to refuse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">But the move nearly done me in.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">My friend Mehmet organized two men
to help me move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I of course expected
them to arrive in some sort of a moving van.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They just arrived with a
lot of straps and this Turkish contraption that looks a little like a baby seat
that they strapped on their backs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
then proceeded to lash my refrigerator onto the padded baby seat of the little
guy – and when I say little, I mean maybe two inches more than my tiny stature
of five feet, one and half inches - and bent over like a man with a really bad
case of osteoporosis, with sweat dripping down his nose, he hauled the frig
down the narrow steps, out onto the street, down the block, down the three sets
of steep, broken concrete steps to the street below, and then up the two
flights to my new flat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Meanwhile the second man, tall and
lean, lashed about five boxes onto his back and bent over like the number 7,
holding tight to the ends of his canvas straps, he followed in the same path as
the little ‘strong man.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were like
two beasts of burden piled beyond comprehension. If they had been donkeys,
animal rights sympathizers would have held a protest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">And I ran alongside them, opening
the door of my new flat and then ran back with them to open the door of the
flat I was leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back and forth. I
felt like i was in training for the step marathon. But I was just carrying a
plant or two each time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or a light box
of something fragile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Then a locksmith came to put some
real locks on my door because the locks that were on it were made for an inside
door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have broken in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A three-year-old could have broken in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">So a friend found me a
locksmith/carpenter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his fifties,
tiny and slim, gray hair and close-cropped gray beard, in well-creased brown
slacks and a striped shirt, he scrutinized my door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Maybe two hours,” he said in a dialect that
was hard for both me and my friend to understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Chuckling and rubbing his beard, he asked for tea and set to work, while
I rummaged through unpacked boxes searching for a cup to pour his tea into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Four hours later he demanded food,
and my friend called the kebap shop at the top of the hill and asked if they
could deliver some food. Meanwhile, I realized there was no drinkable water, so
I ran out to the ‘bakkal’ to get a large bottle of water delivered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">When I returned the locksmith was
continuing to gouge out holes in the door, drill, and pound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The light left the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moon rose, and finally, he told me he had
to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bottom lock worked from the
inside, but not the outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I was a prisoner in my own home
with nothing to eat other than some stale bread and tahini.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">He didn’t return until the
following afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked for his
tea and again began drilling and pounding and banging and screwing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched him try turning the keys to no avail,
and then unscrew, hammer, bang, pound, drill, screw and try again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The sky grew dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moon rose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Darkness descended over Istanbul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The iman sang out his ‘Call to Prayer’ and
still the little locksmith continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">“You can lock the bottom lock
inside and outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll come back
tomorrow and finish,” I managed to decipher his strange dialect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">it took him 3 days of banging and
drilling and then taking everything apart, and then trying again, over and
over, until my friend arrived and made him go to a hardware store to buy a
metal casing. And even then he kept screwing it into the side of the door,
trying the locks, finding they didn’t match up, unscrewing over and over, until
he finally got it to work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">My door looks like it was attacked
by an enraged bear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The top lock on the
inside of the door just has a gauged out hole for the key.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at least i can lock it from both the
inside and the outside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">At some point I had visions of this
little, elderly locksmith always being there. Always drilling and
pounding and hammering and screwing and unscrewing-- kinda like Sisyphus and his rock--and me getting older and older,
sitting at my kitchen table with thick black eyebrow hairs curling across my
forehead, an old lady's mustache and beard grizzling my aged, wrinkled face,
and the locksmith still drilling and pounding away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> ***</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">And when you move into an
unfurnished flat in Turkey, there is absolutely nothing in it. No lights.
No appliances. Nothing. So, in order to move in, I had to get
someone to come and install lights and light fixtures so I could have some
light. But there were strange dangling wires and electrical sockets left over from the middle ages to be dealt with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">And at the end of my first day.
Filthy, exhausted, I got into the shower only to find the hot water
didn't work!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">And I can't get the Water Company
to disconnect the water from my old flat because I need to give them a copy of
my landlady's identity card.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">But one day down the road, I'll
look back on all this and laugh! Ha Ha! As I happily sip tea and gaze out onto
the Golden Horn in my lovely new apartment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:DocumentProperties>
<o:Revision>0</o:Revision>
<o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime>
<o:Pages>1</o:Pages>
<o:Words>808</o:Words>
<o:Characters>4608</o:Characters>
<o:Company>dianewanderer</o:Company>
<o:Lines>38</o:Lines>
<o:Paragraphs>10</o:Paragraphs>
<o:CharactersWithSpaces>5406</o:CharactersWithSpaces>
<o:Version>14.0</o:Version>
</o:DocumentProperties>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>JA</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/>
<w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/>
<w:OverrideTableStyleHps/>
<w:UseFELayout/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="276">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #343434; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Want to move to Istanbul?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-89074715620382412014-02-21T08:30:00.004-08:002014-02-21T08:30:54.199-08:00Arambol - the third time around<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
By my third stay, the bizarre has become normal. I no longer marvel at tourists adorned in a mixture of Mad Max extras meet San Francisco "be-in" hippies. Dreads piled like top hats atop the heads of bare-chested men wearing dusty-orange sarangs; tattoed women with one side their heads shaved, attired in scanty garments that look as if they had just been ripped off some wild beast, torn by hand, and wrapped around their tan bodies - this is the norm.<br />
<br />
I start my day at Mahi's yoga class. Here classes last 2 hours. Mahi has me wrap a canvas strap around my sacrum and invert myself. I hang upside down, knees wrapped around the canvas swing, souls of my feet touching as if in prayer, arms dangling on the ground, swinging like a happy monkey.<br />
<br />
After splashing pitchers of cool water over my body in my hut, I dress and head to Mohan's. This is where all the musicians meet. Yesterday, I sipped sweet milky chai with the Ukranian accordian player Topor, my Turkish friend Cabbar and 3 of the U.K. based world music group, The Turbans. Hugs and kisses all around, we sipped and chatted as the parade of colorful characters strolled by. Cabbar told me he sleeps on the rooftop of Ava Maria "hippy-style" with 20 other people.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for my own little room with clean white tiles and its own fairly clean by Indian standards bathroom. It costs me the equivalent of $6 a night. <br />
<br />
My breakfast is baji - a savoury chick pea and potato coconut curry. And of course a glass of masala chai. Across from Mohan's the coconut wallah lobs the tops off fresh coconuts. A young woman dressed like a collision of rainbows patters by on bare feet followed by a calf. I'm reminded of Mary and her little lamb gone neo-hippie.<br />
<br />
Slowing down on his motorbike, a middle-aged man with a wild aura of an orange Afro shouts in 3 languages (French, Italian, and English) "Today at 3:30 - Carnival! Wear a costume! No toplessness but wearing coconut shells is ok. Bring an instrument!"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
collision of rainbows patters by on bare feet , follow</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-14771038306048129622013-08-19T07:52:00.001-07:002013-08-19T07:52:30.910-07:00The Balkan Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:RelyOnVML/>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>TR</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0cm;
mso-para-margin-right:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0cm;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> She wraps
her thick black hair into a knot on the top of her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pulling a small mirror from her large
synthetic-leather bag, she plucks some wisps of hair from the knot and arranges
them carefully to look careless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sophia is
Serbian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s on her way to Montenegro
to meet some friends for a holiday. She occupies the window seat next to me on
the bus from Dubrovnik to Budva, Montenegro.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Do you
know any cheap place to stay,” she asks me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“I’ll stay
in a hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 11 Euro a night,” I
tell her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She stares
at me, her eyes wide in dismay.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> “Oh,” she
says, “Why don’t you stay in a room? People tell me there are rooms in houses
cheap. I hope there are, because I can’t spend so much money.”</span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I reassure
her that usually local people show up at the bus stations offering cheap rooms
in their homes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“How much
are these rooms? I am kindergarten teacher,” she tells me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have very little money. I left Serbia and
went to Zagreb for work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But really,
there is no work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I graduated from
Tourism and Culture, but I can’t find job, so I take job in school with
babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their parents are very rich and they are very
spoiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am like baby sitter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they pay me so little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what can I do?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
Internet source ‘Balkan Insight’ writes that 500 people a day become jobless in
Serbia. They state 27% unemployment with an average salary of 380 euro a
month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Outside the
bus, green cliffs drop to a turquoise sea. Traffic halts. The coast road along
the Adriatic Sea from Croatia to Montenegro is clogged with vacationing
tourists. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I had
stayed one day and night In Dubrovnik.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was fortunate enough to have a friend living there who offered me the
hospitality of a stay in her home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
had met the year she had lived in Istanbul.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Dubrovnik
proved a bizarre scene - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>scantily-clad, rich
foreigners parading about with their well-tanned, well-oiled skin on display,
wearing extremely expensive but outlandishly skimpy outfits.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Entering
the Old Town of Dubrovnik I felt strangely unhinged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew I was outside, but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>felt like I was inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking through the gate into Old Town was
like entering an open-air museum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike
Sarajevo where shell-pocked areas are filled-in with a blood-red laminate to mark
the spots, and walls of buildings are a bullet-ridden pattern of past carnage,
Dubrovnik has erased any and all traces of war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It stands like a Disneyland theme park for adults: every stone of every
building, every marble cobblestone on every street and alleyway shimmering in
an alabaster-white sheen of prosperity and security. A scrupulously polished
playground for the rich.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The women
strutting Dubrovnik’s Old City were equally unreal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three women passed me and I had to repress my
urge to stare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wearing skin-tight,
crotch-high, cleavage</span>-revealing dresses, they hip-swayed over the
glimmering white marble lanes, one stilettoed foot in front of the other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ah, they’re top fasion
models</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on a shoot,</i> I thought to
myself. But there were no camera men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
wasn’t a shoot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few minutes later,
along came another pair – with legs just as long and shapely, in equally short,
tight, outlandish dresses, and equally high-heeled shoes. In twos and threes
they strutted their way along the slick streets as tourists sipped fine wine
and twirled expensive strands of spaghetti dishes on their forks amidst
laughter and holiday good times.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes,” said the Croatian friend I stayed with in Dubrovnik,
“Old City Dubrovnik is called ‘the Longest Catwalk in the World.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you ever go to the Old Cıty,” I asked her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No,” she said, “only when I take someone who’s visiting me,
and then I try to send them by themselves if possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really never go there.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And what about work here??</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, in the summer there is work in tourism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the winter there is no work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My degree is in design.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s impossible to get a job here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe if I went to Zagreb I could find
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I was in
Istanbul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found work there for one
year.”</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things are even worse in Sarajevo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neno leads a free walking tour of
Sarajevo, depending on the tips of tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s passionate about his
subject.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My mother is Muslim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My father is Serb, but of course he stayed with us during the four years
of the war.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What about school during those years,” I ask him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How did you go to school?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We had classes in basements in different
neighborhoods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ran through sheltered
streets to these underground schools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
mother is a nurse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she refused to
stay home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyday she walked to the
hospital where so many people were injured and dying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my father fought for the resistance.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He points to one of the “roses” on the street. – a shelled
area filled in with red. I stand and look, try to imagine what it must have
been like to spend four years being shot at by men on the hills surrounding
Sarajevo. To be a moving target in a life and death game of chance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now the hills are green and verdent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An early morning mist hangs like wisps of gauze over them.But the people of Sarajevo are still struggling. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“There is 65% unemployment in the winter among the youth of
Sarajevo, only 45% in the summer,” Neno tells us. One online source states
that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1.35 million Bosnians live abroad
out of a total population of 3.752 million. One survey of Bosnia’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>young people states that 81% of those polled
stated they would leave tomorrow if they could, in order to find employment
opportunities.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the Balkan Express mini-bus from Budva, Montenegro back
to Bosnia, the road winds up into the mountains from the Adriatic sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly I look down and see a river that’s a
shade of milky tourquoise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We continue
to serpentine along the Tara River Canyon gorge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No houses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only craggy gray cliffs,
deep-green-leaved trees, and a wide party ribbon of turquoise at the bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we go uphill, the driver cuts the
air-conditioning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The steward opens the
air vent in the roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mini-bus huffs
and puffs it’s way up the steep canyon like the little train that could. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The passengers pant and sweat in the heat. We
make it to the top of the ridge and begin our descent, finally traveling alongside
this incredibly startling light-blue river. It pools into lakes, then swiggles
into a river again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually we come to a town and stop at a tiny bus
stop/cafe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Passengers slide out of the
bus covered in slick sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver
shouts something in some Balkan language. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A tall, long-haired, natural blond steps out
before me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How much time do we have?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Is there enough time to use a toilet?” I ask.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She smiles a charming, white-toothed smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come quick with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take you,” she says.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we get to the toilet, both myself and a young English
girl traveling on the same bus fumble for correct change to pay the toilet
attendent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The long-haired blond pays
for us and instructs us to go ahead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I exit the toilet I try to pay her back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. No, please,”she smiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Is nothing. You are guest in my country. Come sit a minute with me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her name is Jelena.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She comes from Foca. I force a euro into her hand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How did you learn to speak English so well?” I ask her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her face brightens into a big smile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Really? You think I speak English well? .”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Absolutely,” I say, “and I’m an English teacher.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I never took a course,” she says, speaking quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t go to university.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just watch TV shows in English and listen
to music and learn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also this way I
learn German.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You are so smart,” I tell her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
“Really” But I just work as au
pair in Germany - Frankfurt,” she tells me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“But people are not good people,” she says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They tell me they pay 300 Euros a month, but
they only give 200.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They say I get 2
days off every week, but I work 7 days a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But what can I do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I leave,
then what will my family do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m only
one with job now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I leave, we don’t
eat anything.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She roots through her yellow plastic hand bag and pulls out
a pack of cigarettes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Would you like one?’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I decline.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I never smoked before, but I get so nervous in Germany I
start.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She scratches at her arms and
legs, draws on her cigarette, compulsively scratches some more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am not lucky,” she tells me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was born here.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bus driver honks the horn, summoning the passengers back
into the bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she gets off at Foca,
she smiles and waves to me. I continue on, returning to Sarajevo.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the morning I walk up the hill to the war cemetary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>White stone markers pop from the ground like
a field of death flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gaze down at
the red <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tile roofs, the domes and
minarets of the mosques, and tall crosses and church steeples.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sarajevo is such a lovely, tranquil place now. On the 16th,
the Sarajevo International Film Festival will begin. It will be packed with
tourists. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The war with bullets and mortar shells has ended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the war with poverty rages on.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-78100689837486614522013-06-07T04:35:00.002-07:002013-06-07T04:35:48.778-07:00Dancing at the Bakirkoy Mental Hospital<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
When my friend Cabbar invited me to come to the annual party at Turkey's largest and most famous psychiatric hospital, I wasn't sure if I would go. Cabbar is a musician who had been invited to come and play music with his group for the party. Knowing how much I love to dance, he asked if I wanted to come along.<br />
<br />
Always trying to be open to new and potentially uplifting experiences, I decided to accompany this group of young, alternative Turkish musicians to their gig at the mental hospital gardens.<br />
<br />
The hospital sent one of their vans to Beyoglu to pick us up, and twenty musicians, jugglers, and myself climbed in along with musical instruments, amplifiers, hula hoops, and red clown noses. The sky was filled with dark ominous rain clouds when we left. The smell of rain was in the air.<br />
<br />
By the time we arrived, the sun was shining.<br />
<br />
My musician friends took the stage and set up their equipment as the clowns/jugglers donned their red noses and gay apparel and juggled, hula hooped, and circulated through the throng of patients, visitors, nurses, orderlies, young, old and everything in-between inviting people to join the festivities.<br />
<br />
When the music started everyone took seats in front of the stage, sat and listened. But to my mind, music is made for dancing. It has always seemed a cosmic wrong not to dance when good music is playing. And so I began to shake and shimmy, swirl and twirl, inviting people to join me. Soon the people were on their feet, patients' faces lit up in huge, joyful smiles. Nurses and patients, orderlies and visitors, clowns and children all dancing together. <br />
<br />
At one point, the musicians broke into a lively, well-known Turkish song. The patients formed a huge circle, holding onto each other like a long conga line. A bit out of rhythm. A bit clumsy. But one hundred percent joyful they danced around in the sunshine in front of the stage, then broke away to dance with other visitors, clowns, jugglers, and me.<br />
<br />
All of us celebrating the music and the moment and life.</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-41301254673671119782013-06-05T09:11:00.003-07:002013-06-05T11:43:12.013-07:00Shoulder to Shoulder: Gezi Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">Today: Gezi Park. <br />
I walked up from Besiktas on Gumussuyu Ave. for the first time since
the protests began. As I emerged from the steps that lead up from the
waterfront, the hair on my arms stood straight up. The cobblestones and
bricks had been pulled from the sidewalks to create blockades on every
street. Blockades erected to deny the police access. Cobblestones,
bricks, outdoor cement tree and shrub planters, plasterboard siding from
construction sites, signs - anything portable had been stacked by
protesters to deter the police. <br /> <br /> Then i reached the top and
the sight of Taksim Square filled my eyes with tears. Everywhere.
Everywhere flags of every color and shape fluttered in the wind. Red,
yellow, orange, blue, white. Flags, banners, placards. <br /> <br /><span class="text_exposed_show"> I had wondered, by day 6 would the people's energy weaken?<br /> <br /> There were more people of more diverse backgrounds than before. <br /> <br />
A group of leathery-faced Alevis (Muslim's most oppressed sub-group)
marched and chanted as the crowd applauded them. Behind them, pot-bellied union workers waved
flags. They were followed by blithe university kids whistling and
singing and clapping. With the passage of each group the other people
around would clap and cheer. Bodacious mustachioed Kemalists cheered a
group of Kurkish protesters. Football team antagonists marched shoulder
to shoulder. Opposing party members helped opposition raise their
banners in trees. <br /> <br /> One middle-aged woman stood on the steps up
to the park waving the Socialist flag. "I have a son," she told me. I
don't want him to inherit a world of injustice. I'm here so he can have
freedom and a better life."<br /> She hugged me and thanked me for coming
and supporting the Turkish people. A young woman came up to us offering
us free sandwiches from a large plastic bag filled with sandwiches.<br /> <br />
Other young people roamed the park offering various free food items.
Some appeared to be pastries donated by bakeries in Taksim. O</span></span></span><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">ther volunteers moved silently through the crowd picking up trash.<br /> <br />
Under trees heaps of cat food lay in mounds. Along one wall supplies
were stacked on the ledge of blocks: antidotes for tear gas; bandages
for wounds; antiseptics; concoctions of water and Talcid; biscuits;
water.<br /> <br /> At one station people come and donate supplies as volunteers sort and dispense. <br /> On
the crest of one hill, a sound system has been set up. Between rousing
speeches musicians come and play. People form circles and dance
traditional Turkish folk dances.<br /> <br /> Young, old, fat, thin, left, right are joined in a common cause: freedom</span></span></span></h5>
</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-2288963985674939332013-06-03T01:23:00.000-07:002013-06-03T01:23:23.100-07:00Polarization<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Last
night at 9pm, people all over Turkey banged and clanged their pots and
pans. Friends reported absolute riots of protesting cacophony in
Cihangir, Cukurcuma, Besiktas... But my neighborhood was silent with the
exception of me and one other pot banger down the street (probably
another foreigner or alternative Turk.) From their flats old men shouted
angrily at us to stop. Why, i wondered. <br /> My<span class="text_exposed_show">
neighborhood is a poor, un-western, area filled with poor, religious
Turks. And they support Tayip Erdogan and the AKP Party. Because for
them, life has become slightly better in the years since the AK Party
took power. Inflation has been cut. They are able to hold jobs that pay
the rent. There is no war. They live relatively peaceful, content
lives.<br /> <br /> When I think of all the people i've seen protesting on
the streets these last 5 days, I realize, I rarely (if ever) saw covered
women. These were not the poor, disenfranchised of Turkey on the
streets of Turkey. These were the secular, educated.<br /> <br /> The
people of my neighborhood don't see what's happening on Facebook. They
happily watch the Penguin Documentary aired by CNN Turk, listen to
Erdogan on the news chastise the trouble-makers and tsk tsk tsk their
tongues at the mayhem.<br /> <br /> I think it's still a long way before
Turkey unites in its visions. The vast Anatolian population lies at the
opposite end of the continuum from the Western freedom seekers. The
poor still give thanks for small favors: meat and rice on the dinner
table, a TV, peace to live their simple lives. The people on the
streets protesting desire a democratic cornucopia of freedom.</span></span></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-32004561149222606822013-06-01T03:33:00.000-07:002013-06-01T03:33:29.682-07:00and still the people come<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">The angry people of Istanbul pour into Beyoglu from the side streets. The police fire rubber bullets. And
still they come. The police blasts the crowds with water mixed with
tear gas. And still they come. The police fire tear gas bomb after
tear gas bomb until the city is an angry gray cloud of toxic gas. People bang and clang on pots and pans in neighborhoods throughout the city.
Tanks roam the city. Water cannons pummel back the crowds. The people leave Taksim, walk to the Bosphorus Bride. People take the Bosphorus Bridge. The police
fire plastic bullets, brutally beat non-violent protesters. And still they come. There are now, in the early afternoon over 4000 people
in Beyoglu alone,chanting, fists raised in the air in solidarity. It is
rumored that 50,000 police from other areas in Turkey have been sent
for. But still the people come. 100,000 people are expected to fill the streets and parks and byways and avenues of Istanbul by this evening.</span></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-36067114989778162872013-05-31T05:15:00.000-07:002013-05-31T05:15:29.827-07:00It's War Folks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
A not so funny thing happened on my way to Gezi Park where an ongoing protest is being held to keep Istanbul's last remaining green space from being turned into Istanbul's 94th shopping mall. It was 1 in the afternoon. I hadn't heard or read of what might have happened this morning and wanted to go and sit in for awhile if possible. I was walking along Istiklal Caddesi, Istanbul's main (mainly pedestrian) shopping street. I was about 2 blocks away from Taksim Sq. when i heard all kinds of yelling and screaming. A group of maybe 30 people were running toward me yelling "Polis! Polis!" Then i heard the BOOMPH! BOOMPH! sound of tear gas guns being fired. Taksim Sq disappeared in a cloud of tear gas. I turned and started running. Fortunately the wind was blowing hard. In the opposite direction. It's war folks.</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-68945777012474937912013-05-28T01:31:00.003-07:002013-05-28T01:31:56.196-07:00There's Something in the Air... and it Burns Like Tear Gas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
There's now a tank that seems to be parked almost daily on the gay pedestrian street Istiklal Caddesi. The shoppers and gawkers and tourists and residents on their way somewhere or back walk along the line of shops morphed from Ma and Pop Kebab restaurants and local brands to MacDonalds, Burger King, Benetton, and Mango. And the protesters who used to daily peacefully march, holding their placards and signs, waving flags and chanting, exercising their democratic rights, now face a new danger: tear gas and water hoses.<br />
<br />
For the last ten years that I've here, it was only a once-a-year phenomenon - every 1 May, two tanks stationed at either end of Istiklal threatened any potential dissident. The aftermath of a seventies 1 May that left over thirty people dead.<br />
<br />
Today it's become the face of force. A daily reminder to the people of Turkey that the government is ready to use whatever force necessary to squelch any and all dissent.<br />
<br />
Last summer, the tables and chairs that lined all the side streets of Beyoglu were ordered "removed." Those who dare defy the law and placed a table and a few chairs outside for patrons who wanted to smoke and drink outside, suffered the consequences of the "Outdoor Chair and Table Squad" - trucks that roamed the side streets waiting to pounce upon any table or chair placed outside and remove them.<br />
<br />
Friday, a new alcohol law was passed. No alcohol can be sold by stores after 10pm. I'm not a drinker. It doesn't affect me. But there's a trend. A trend that's highly unsettling. Tanks parked on the busiest street of Istanbul. Prohibition of any outdoor show of drinking alcohol. No alcohol permitted to be bought or sold after 10pm. And more journalists imprisoned every day.<br />
<br />
What's next? What's becoming of Ataturk's democracy?<br />
<br />
Stay tuned for the next installment of "As the world turns Conservative."</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-15265110566550107472013-05-08T11:06:00.000-07:002013-05-08T11:06:13.630-07:00the Black Krishna<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
Walked into Old Vrindavan through narrow lanes lined with beggars; stores selling paintings of your favorite deities with faces surrounded by twinkling christmas lights; the chinka chinka chinka of finger cymbals; holy chants echoing in
temple halls; honking rickshaws and old black ball bicycle horn
farts. The ubiquitous starving crippled cows browse through piles of trash, munching on discarded napkins and plastic bags that will twist around their intestines killing them slowly and painfully. Momma monkeys with tiny big-eyed babies clinging to their bellies fight street dogs for scraps. Hawkers standing at their rough-hewn, gray, wooden carts piled high with roses yell to the passersby - the scent of the roses strong and sweet, perfuming the air. Garlands of flowers are being sold everywhere to lay at the feet of deities in temples as prevalent as bars in Istanbul's clubbing scene in Beyoglu. The scents of incense and roses mingle with the steam of deep-fried samosas, pakoras, aloo tikka and puri, cow shit and urine. Pilgrims buy sweets and flowers as offerings to Krishna.<br />
<br />
I'm headed to Banke Bihere - the Black Krishna. Indian pilgrims ply the lane to cast their eyes upon this strange wide-eyed black idol.<br />
<br />
I ask directions of a man who gestures I should follow him. He's dressed in white kurta pyjamas with an impeccably folded blue shawl across his left shoulder, hanging over his chest and back. He leads me down a side street of sweet sellers and points to the temple on the left.<br />
<br />
I kick off my sandals and push them to the side of the pile of removed footwear and pad slap slap slap barefooted along the marble floor to the entrance.<br />
<br />
Inside, I begin the serpentine metal-post-lined path to the deity. It smells like a rose oil factory. Teary-eyed devotees stop periodically, bring their hands together in prayer and gaze toward the enshrined idol on the stage at the front of the temple.<br />
<br />
Holding onto their garlands of flowers, baskets of lit candles and marigolds, boxes of sweets, they haul themselves up the steep wooden steps - women on the left, men on the right side of rails that protects the little statue from his worshippers. <br />
<br />
Two priests stand in the neutral zone between the men and women. The floor is a raised bed of discarded pressed leaf wrappers that held offerings. <br />
<br />
From either side, the rapturous worshippers thrust their boxes , baskets, and other offerings toward the two priests. Ten, twenty, fifty, and a hundred rupee notes shoved toward their faces.<br />
<br />
The two scowling priests grab the rupees, pocket them, fling handfuls of round ping-pong sized and shaped milk sweets at the feet of the little black idol, hand the half full box back to its owner and toss the flowers on the ground. Some people get their garlands sprinkled with holy water and returned to them.<br />
<br />
The faithful gaze big-eyed at the black idol.<br />
<br />
It's a quirky little statue even by Hindu standards, with a jet-black face, huge staring white eyes, and a jewel-button nose, all dressed up in a sparkling glittery gold party dress, accessorized by strings of marigold, rose, and daisy chains.<br />
<br />
The worshippers weep and tremble. Pray to the unmoving little black deity. The priests' eyebrows furrow. They wave us away and back down the wooden steps. <br />
<br />
My travel agent, Pankaj Yadao explained the story of the "Black Krishna" when I came to pick up my train ticket.<br />
<br />
"In the time of the Muslim King, Akbar - you know him, Madame?"<br />
<br />
I nod in affirmation having read about Akbar - the most liberal of all Muslim Kings - who invited scholars from every religion: Muslim, Hindu, Jain, Sikh, Parsi to gather together regularly to discuss far-ranging issues.<br />
<br />
Pankaj continues. "There was one singer who was the greatest of all singers. His name was Hari Das Mahraj - you write that down Madame," he instructs me like a strict primary school teacher. And I dutifully write down the name on the sheet of paper with names of the important temples to visit.<br />
<br />
"Hari Das Mahraj's singing was sooo beautiful, that when he sang, all the animals and birds in the forest came to listen. And stayed until he finished singing."<br />
<br />
"One day while he was singing soooooo strong, a Black Krishna rose up out of the ground and told him his singing had called him up to be worshipped by all. So they built a temple around the Black Krishna. And that's the temple Banke Bihere." <br />
<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
I make my way out to the harsh, sunlit entrance. Squinting, I search for my sandals. I don't dare put on my sunglasses as cheeky monkeys hop about just looking for some glasses to snatch and ransom for a treat. I slip on my sandals and make my way out in search of somewhere quiet to have some breakfast and write about the Black Krishna.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-34160826290622902322013-05-08T03:04:00.003-07:002013-05-08T03:04:39.844-07:00In Vrindavan Even the Chai Wallahs...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
"Masala chai," I say to the young man making a pot of steaming milky spiced black tea.<br />
<br />
The chai wallah prays and chants as he tosses the black tea into the stained pot. Chants as he scoops the sugar and throws it in. Chants as he pours in the milk. Rings the prayer bell as the savory-sweet tea boils. Says a prayer as he pours it through the strainer into the tiny earthenware cup that looks like a miniature clay flower pot. Hands me my spicy milk tea, then puts his hands together over his heart.<br />
<br />
"Nameste. Hare Krishna," he says to me.<br />
<br />
Imagine what life would be like if Starbucks started implementing this policy for their baristas.</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-26668726204855501792013-05-07T14:23:00.000-07:002013-05-07T14:23:12.993-07:00rockin' and rollin' with the Hare Krishnas at ISKON, Vrindavan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
There was not a single seat available in any of the many trains heading from Delhi to Vrindavan.<br />
<br />
"You take bus, Madame. No problem," said the chubby, bald, travel agent/internet manager with the red and gold swatch of gulal between his bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows.<br />
<br />
"How long does it take by bus," I asked.<br />
<br />
"No. Not long. Best way. Go to Kashmiri Gate. To Ayesbeety. (I.S.B.T - Indian State Bus Terminal). Get bus to Mathura."<br />
<br />
I left my guesthouse at Pahar Ganj at 10a.m. Hopped a rickshaw to Kashmiri Gate I.S.B.T., only to find there were no buses there going to Mathura.<br />
<br />
"You must go to SarayKalikan for bus to Mathura," one saried lady who looked remarkably like a poor Indira Gandhi, told me.<br />
<br />
"Come," she said, "Follow me across the pedestrian bridge."<br />
<br />
On the other side of the road, she showed me to a city bus which she explained would be much cheaper than a rickshaw.<br />
<br />
A half hour later, I was at Saray Kalikan.<br />
<br />
As I started down the lane that led to a hub of buses, I heard a bus hawker yell: "MathuraAgraMathuraAgraMathuraAgra!" as if it were one long word, and realized that this bus for Agra made a stop at Mathura.<br />
<br />
So, I grabbed the two rails on either side of the incredibly steep entry steps, and hauled myself up and in. Taking an aisle seat on the right side of the bus, I gingerly lowered myself down and next to the young man seated in the middle seat. Even for a tiny person like me, seated next to two small-framed, young Indian men, meant a ride in which my right thing was pressed against the left thigh of the gold-earringed man next to me; my right shoulder and upper arm in constant contact with his left. The window on our side was broken and unable to open. The temperature in the bus was about that of a Swiss sauna. <br />
<br />
When we were half an hour from Mathura, the bus pulled into a dusty roadside eatery, everyone got out, ate thalis, and finaly returned to the bus. I had left my guesthouse in Delhi at 10am. I arrived in Mathura, more than somewhat disgruntled, at 4pm, and then had to grab a jam-packed tempo from Mathura to Vrindavan .<br />
<br />
What a ridiculous way to spend a day, I thought to myself. I metaphorically clicked my tongue at my foolishness at spending one of my last few days in India riding on a hot sweaty bus. And considering how long it took, I inwardly seethed with frustration, knowing that I'd have to repeat the process the very next day. How bloody stupid, I thought.<br />
<br />
Then, to put the cherry on the top of the melting sundae, I discovered that because it was the Hindu holiday of Navratri, there were no rooms at the proverbial inn. I sprinted from one ashram to the next, hot, dusty, sweaty and tired, each time receiving the same reply: "Sorry Mam. No room. All full."<br />
<br />
But thanks to my former Rishikesh guesthousemate - a long-time Indian traveler from the UK, I had an ace up my sari.<br />
<br />
"It ain't pretty. But it's cheap and safe," he told me. "It'll do in a pinch. If all else fails. The manager - a big bloke - 'll sleep outside your room and snore like a chimney. But mind the monkeys. Don't even think a going out a yur room with any food. And don't wear any kind a glasses. Those cheeky monkey's 're notorious fer stealin the glasses right off your face and ransomin them for food. And not just any food. They'll hold out for somethin special,they will."<br />
<br />
So down a side street I hustled, and sure enough the "big bloke" showed me the room right behind where he sleeps on a cot outside. Not exactly a celebration of the senses, but maybe not the very worst room I've ever stayed in India. (pretty close to the end of the spectrum of low expectations, though). But for 200 ruppees (less than the equivalent of $3.75) it was perfectly manageable.<br />
<br />
Room settled, I rushed down the main road to where I saw a sign for a travel agent as I was coming into town.<br />
<br />
It turned out that there was a seat available at 7am from Mathura to Delhi the day after the following day. Yes! I could spend all day tomorrow and then just a ride of only three hours on a vehicle with a toilet and roaming food and drink vendors the following day. Things were looking up.<br />
<br />
"First just go across the street to ISKON," my friendly travel agent told me. "Everyone should visit there. Then tomorrow you must go to the most important temple in Vrindavan, Banke Bihere. It's where the famous black Krishan is. And there's a Durga temple where many Navratri celebrations are taking place. By the way, are you on Facebook?"<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
ISKON stands for the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. And these people know how to throw a good worship.<br />
<br />
As I approached the main hall, I could hear the drums and tambourines, finger cymbols, harmonium and one beautiful voice leading the faithful in rounds of: "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare. <br />
<br />
I'd expected shaven-headed devotees wrapped in saffron sheets. What I hadn't expected was to be greeted by an official greeter, whose first act was to invite me to dance.<br />
<br />
Yes sir! My kind of temple. My kind of prayer.<br />
<br />
And so within my first minute inside Balaram Temple, I was twirling ecstatically, waving my arms in the air, and chanting "Hare Krishna."<br />
<br />
Then I felt a tap on my left arm. I turned to see a small, gray-haired Indian lady in an autumn-leaf motif sari, who smiled into my eyes and indicated she wanted to dance with me. Another woman joined us and as the music grew in tempo and intensity, more and more women joined the group, as well as children and men.<br />
<br />
"Hare Krishna" was sung in ways I could never have imagined. A devotee with a voice somewhere between an Aaron Neville warble and an Ella Fitzgerald scat, sang soulful variations on the them of the old standard. "Hare Krishna" morphed into a spiritual opus and the crowd went wild. Faster and faster. More and more frenzied. Everyone clapping chanting dancing spinning. Men women children. The only thing to be concerned about was stepping on one of the prostrate bodies on the floor.<br />
<br />
And I was so glad, so unbelievably glad I had traveled those hot, sweaty hours in that unairconditioned bus, plastered against the passenger to my right, on a 100 degree day.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
<br />
Smiling ear to ear, looking into other radiant, smiling eyes, dancing together, singing together, celebrating life, it was a great way to end my two and a half months in India. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-49674802167177688272013-04-22T09:19:00.004-07:002013-04-22T09:19:38.430-07:00the God-loving Atheist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:HyphenationZone>21</w:HyphenationZone>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>TR</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0cm;
mso-para-margin-right:0cm;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0cm;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<br />
<br />
There's this "eye game" I play with babas, sadhus, devotees, and
other "holy" men. I call it a game, but it's the realest,
purest thing I know.<br />
<br />
What I do is make eye contact with passing holy men and see what
happens. If their eyes pass over mine without any contact, I find myself
making an instant judgement about them - that although they may have all the
trappings of holy men, their hearts are cold and closed.<br />
<br />
Who am I to judge, you may ask yourselves. And quite honestly I ask
myself the same question. But my heart tells me that I know. And that if
you look, really look, into the eyes of someone, you'll know too. And I
am driven to know.<br />
<br />
But sometimes, something amazing transpires.<br />
<br />
For example, last night, in the Haridwar Bazaar, on the way back from the
arti at HarKi Pairi ghat on the Ganges, I looked, really looked into the eyes
of a passing baba. He was dressed in a ragged, course faded sarong that
might have once been saffron. His hair was shoulder length. A dirty
turban was wrapped around his stringy hair. His momentum propelled him
two steps past me. Then he stopped, turned around, and met my gaze.<br />
<br />
And how do I describe what happened next? If I search my consciousness,
I can only say that as I looked into his eyes there was an inner mantra
chanting: "The God within me salutes the God within you."<br />
<br />
Now what's really strange about this, is that I'm an atheist. I don't
believe in God. I mean, look at all the horrors in this world. If
there were an omnipotent, all-powerful God, would s/he allow such atrocities to
take place? I don't think so. But what are all people but
composites of contradiction. I am an atheist who dances for God. I
am an atheist who greets holy men by a connection that joins us together in a
God I don't believe in.<br />
<br />
So, let me tell you what happened next...<br />
<br />
We stood there, in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the men and women
and children pouring through the bazaar. We stood there gazing into each
others eyes as families purchased religious trinkets, paintings of deities,
soft thick-piled blankets, and milk sweets. We stood there, riveted,
smiling at each other. Smile building to grin. Grin blooming to an ear-to-ear,
tooth-revealing beam. Our delight blossoming to joy. Holding eye contact,
connecting on some incredibly deep place. A place of pure love. Standing there
like in a scene from a film where two people fall in love in the middle of some
crazy swirling blur of activity. The two of us stood there and gazed into
each others eyes smiling like fools. And laughing. About what it's hard to say,
but there we stood and smiled and laughed, as the rush of people in the bazaar
swarmed around and past us.<br />
<br />
And then this morning...<br />
<br />
I had stopped at the bathing ghat along the Ganges for a glimpse of the
river, when my eyes glanced over at one of the sadhus sitting on the steps
begging. This time it was my eyes that passed over his face. This time it
was I who started away but then looked back. Something pulling me back to
his face. And he held my eyes. And I gazed back and met love pouring from
his heart, out his eyes with all the love in my heart. And we started
smiling - connecting beyond words, beyond intellect, beyond religion and tradition,
and politics and paradigms. We connected soul to soul, heart to
heart. His eyes like a bubbling fountain of joy. And then we
started to laugh and laugh and laugh.<br />
<br />
And then my laughter turned to tears.<br />
<br />
I wanted to sob. I wanted to sob so hard I shook off all the pettiness from
my bones. Sob so hard I shook off all my arrogance and judgements. Sob so
hard I shook off all traces of stinginess and greed and competition and vanity.<br />
<br />
I wanted to sob so hard my tears washed away all my transgressions; washed
away my skin, my separateness. That my heart might merge with the heart of all.<br />
<br />
But all I could do was let the tears fall, gaze with love at my new soul
mate, bring my hands together at chin level and whisper the word <i>Nameste.</i><br />
<br />
He mirrored my gesture and word.<br />
I turned and walked away. I knew I needed to sit in a cool place by
the Ganga and write - write to try and catch the swirl of emotion-packed words
bursting from my mind; try to make some literal sense of of what was happening
to me, try to move from the ephemeral sphere of light I had zoomed off to and
come back to earth. Ground myself in the black written words on a solid
page of a earthy yellow and orange journal.<br />
<br />
Passing the Ganesh Temple Ghat, I stopped to pay my respects to that cute
little chubby elephant deity whose responsibility it is to eradicate obstacles.<br />
<br />
Standing there I gazed down at the shady steps that led to the Ganges and
knew it was where I wanted to sit. I entered the gate, looked at the
first saffron-draped bearded man, and through body language indicated I wanted
to enter and sit at the bottom of the steps.<br />
<br />
He nodded consent, smiled, and pointed to my shoes, which I took off and
left.<br />
<br />
I walked down a few cement steps, sat down, and leaned my back against the
cool wall.<br />
<br />
There were six babas. One combed out his waist-length hair, wet from his
ritual dip in the river. One stoked the fire which burned at the bottom
of the steps. One lit incense. One bathed in the river. One
lay under a ratty saffron blanket. One sat and stared at the Ganges. I
scribbled siren-song notes in my cheap journal.<br />
<br />
When the words had climaxed and ceased to flow. When I had spent
myself, my passion cooled, I closed my book, put it in my red, purple and black
hand-made bag from Thailand, and stood up. When I got to the top of the
steps, I turned and looked down at the babas.<br />
<br />
"Nameste," I called out to them.<br />
<br />
All six heads pivoted and turned to me, smiling.<br />
<br />
"Where are you from?" one called up to me in English.<br />
<br />
"I am from the same place as you," I answered. "We are
all from God," said the atheist.<br />
<br />
He laughed and translated to the rest of the babas. They all stood at
the bottom of the steps smiling up at me, laughing, and waving good-bye.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-10147685332886443072013-04-21T12:31:00.001-07:002013-04-21T12:31:19.871-07:00the eye game in Haridwar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's this "eye game" I play with babas, sadhus, devotees, and other "holy" men. I call it a game, but it's the realest, purest thing I know.<br />
<br />
What I do is make eye contact with passing holy men and see what happens. If their eyes pass over mine without any contact, I find myself making an instant judgement about them - that although they may have all the trappings of holy men, their hearts are cold and closed.<br />
<br />
Who am I to judge, you may ask yourselves. And quite honestly I ask myself the same question. But my heart tells me that I know. And that if you look, really look, into the eyes of someone, you'll know too. And I am driven to know.<br />
<br />
But sometimes, something amazing transpires.<br />
<br />
For example, last night, in the Haridwar Bazaar, on the way back from the arti at HarKi Pairi ghat on the Ganges, I looked, really looked into the eyes of a passing baba. He was dressed in a ragged, course faded sarong that might have once been saffron. His hair was shoulder length. A dirty turban was wrapped around his stringy hair. His momentum propelled him two steps past me. Then he stopped, turned around, and met my gaze.<br />
<br />
And how do I describe what happened next? If I search my consciousness, I can only say that as I looked into his eyes there was an inner mantra chanting: "The God within me salutes the God within you."<br />
<br />
Now what's really strange about this, is that I'm an atheist. I don't believe in God. I mean, look at all the horrors in this world. If there were an omnipotent, all-powerful God, would s/he allow such atrocities to take place? I don't think so. But what are all people but composites of contradiction. I am an atheist who dances for God. I am an atheist who greets holy men by a connection that joins us together in a God I don't believe in.<br />
<br />
So, let me tell you what happened next...<br />
<br />
We stood there, in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the men and women and children pouring through the bazaar. We stood there gazing into each others eyes as families purchased religious trinkets, paintings of deities, soft thick-piled blankets, and milk sweets. We stood there, riveted, smiling at each other. Smile building to grin. Grin blooming to an ear-to-ear, tooth-revealing beam. Our delight blossoming to joy. Holding eye contact, connecting on some incredibly deep place. A place of pure love. Standing there like in a scene from a film where two people fall in love in the middle of some crazy swirling blur of activity. The two of us stood there and gazed into each others eyes smiling like fools. And laughing. About what it's hard to say, but there we stood and smiled and laughed, as the rush of people in the bazaar swarmed around and past us.<br />
<br />
And then this morning...<br />
<br />
I had stopped at the bathing ghat along the Ganges for a glimpse of the river, when my eyes glanced over at one of the sadhus sitting on the steps begging. This time it was my eyes that passed over his face. This time it was I who started away but then looked back. Something pulling me back to his face. And he held my eyes. And I gazed back and met love pouring from his heart, out his eyes with all the love in my heart. And we started smiling - connecting beyond words, beyond intellect, beyond religion and tradition, and politics and paradigms. We connected soul to soul, heart to heart. His eyes like a bubbling fountain of joy. And then we started to laugh and laugh and laugh. <br />
<br />
And then my laughter turned to tears.<br />
<br />
I wanted to sob. I wanted to sob so hard I shook off all the pettiness from my bones. Sob so hard I shook off all my arrogance and judgements. Sob so hard I shook off all traces of stinginess and greed and competition and vanity.<br />
<br />
I wanted to sob so hard my tears washed away all my transgressions; washed away my skin, my separateness. That my heart might merge with the heart of all.<br />
<br />
But all I could do was let the tears fall, gaze with love at my new soul mate, bring my hands together at chin level and whisper the word <i>Nameste.</i><br />
<br />
He mirrored my gesture and word.<br />
<i> </i><br />
I turned and walked away. I knew I needed to sit in a cool place by the Ganga and write - write to try and catch the swirl of emotion-packed words bursting from my mind; try to make some literal sense of of what was happening to me, try to move from the ephemeral sphere of light I had zoomed off to and come back to earth. Ground myself in the black written words on a solid page of a earthy yellow and orange journal.<br />
<i></i><br />
Passing the Ganesh Temple Ghat, I stopped to pay my respects to that cute little chubby elephant deity whose responsibility it is to eradicate obstacles.<br />
<br />
Standing there I gazed down at the shady steps that led to the Ganges and knew it was where I wanted to sit. I entered the gate, looked at the first saffron-draped bearded man, and through body language indicated I wanted to enter and sit at the bottom of the steps.<br />
<br />
He nodded consent, smiled, and pointed to my shoes, which I took off and left.<br />
<br />
I walked down a few cement steps, sat down, and leaned my back against the cool wall.<br />
<br />
There were six babas. One combed out his waist-length hair, wet from his ritual dip in the river. One stoked the fire which burned at the bottom of the steps. One lit incense. One bathed in the river. One lay under a ratty saffron blanket. One sat and stared at the Ganges. I scribbled siren-song notes in my cheap journal.<br />
<br />
When the words had climaxed and ceased to flow. When I had spent myself, my passion cooled, I closed my book, put it in my red, purple and black hand-made bag from Thailand, and stood up. When I got to the top of the steps, I turned and looked down at the babas.<br />
<br />
"Nameste," I called out to them.<br />
<br />
All six heads pivoted and turned to me, smiling.<br />
<br />
"Where are you from?" one called up to me in English.<br />
<br />
"I am from the same place as you," I answered. "We are all from God," said the atheist.<br />
<br />
He laughed and translated to the rest of the babas. They all stood at the bottom of the steps smiling up at me, laughing, and waving good-bye.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-33526982416046316412013-04-15T05:07:00.000-07:002013-04-15T05:07:26.766-07:00Sicilian Rose<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
Sometimes you can know somebody for just part of a day and yet be so touched that when you part you feel vectors tugging from you heart to theirs.<br />
<br />
That's how it was with Sicilian Rose.<br />
<br />
We had met at the Brown Bread Bakery and decided to spend an afternoon being tourists together the next day.<br />
<br />
We hailed an auto rickshaw to Jama Majid, the huge Muslim mosque crowning the hill of Old Delhi. Stalled in Delhi traffic we began to share our lives, our stories. She - so young and vulnerable, of Sicilian decent, but raised in London - just finding her way. Me - a crazy old trouper.<br />
<br />
As the rickshaw inched along past the Sikh temple, the Shiva Temple, Muslim mosques, the hardware bazaars, second-hand bazaars, spice bazaars, she opened up one sentence at a time. One tale at a time. One memory at a time. Testing the ground. With each step a new revelation. With each inch of progression on our route, a step closer to each other.<br />
<br />
From the Jama Majid, we walked to the Red Fort. Then mounted a bicycle rickshaw. The short, skinny rider leaning into the pedals, pushing with all his slight weight and strength, turning around to announce the price of every monument, the goods sold in every passed bazaar, the derivation of each temple. <br />
<br />
Our bums aching from the pounding we took each time we hit a pothole and slammed down against the barely padded seat, we talked of this and that. Laughing. Revealing our lives to each other.<br />
<br />
The bicycle rickshaw rider finally dropped us off at the New Delhi Railway Station. We staggered out of the rickshaw. Stopping strangers to get our bearings. Crossing back to Pahar Ganj.<br />
<br />
I led her up the stairs to the Everest Rooftop Restaurant. Introduced her to momos.<br />
<br />
And when we climbed down and began our goodbyes, tears filled our eyes.<br />
<br />
"Thank you for sharing the day with me," I said. "And thank you for sharing your self."<br />
<br />
"Thank you," she said.<br />
<br />
We hugged, holding each other tenderly. Then she turned into the internet cafe. I turned the corner to my hotel feeling so fortunate to have shared such of lovely day with such a lovely young woman.</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-90236139201298415702013-04-12T03:23:00.000-07:002013-04-12T03:23:08.802-07:00Dog Bite!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
It had started out such a good morning - the day after Holi. The sky clear and blue. A fresh cool morning breeze.<br />
<br />
I exercised, took a cool-water bucket shower, ate half a papaya, and then headed to the clock tower. At the chai wallah's, I sat on a narrow wooden bench with the locals and sipped my sweet, milky tea.<br />
<br />
Being early in the day, the streets were unusually clear. An hour or so later, they would become bedlam. Auto rickshaws, bicycles, trucks and taxis sounding their horns, swerving, darting, hucksters screaming at passers by to purchase their goods, shopkeepers keeping up a mind-numbing stream of "Yes, Mam. Please come, Mam.:" Children yelling, mothers scolding, aunties and sisters chattering, cows lowing. But now the street was blinking in the morning sun, stretching and langorously yawning. Men slowly setting up stands. Women, slowly laying blankets on the ground. <br />
<br />Enjoying the openness, I strode happily along the main avenue on my way to the Railway Booking Office to take advantage of the Special Tourist Quota.<br />
<br />
Then, as I walked past the Hotel City Palace Restaurant (in India, a "hotel" is usually just a restaurant), a large tan dog ran out from where it had been lying on the cool steps of the restaurant, came charging at me, and before I could take in what was happening, sunk its teeth deep into my right calf. Then ran off.<br />
<br />
I felt pain, but denial is so pervasive, I hoped it was just superficial. Pulling up my pants leg, I stared in panic as blood ran from four huge fang punctures.<br />
<br />
Men gathered around me in a circle and stared. Black eyes, furrowed eyebrows. Blood running down my leg. Four fang punctures. A moment in timelessness.<br />
<br />
Finally, words broke through my tight locked lips. <br />
<br />
"Hospital. Hospital," I stammered.<br />
<br />
A well-dressed man broke through the circle of men surrounding me - the manager of the Hotel City Palace.<br />
<br />
"Not my dog! Not my dog!" he repeated. He commandeered a rickshaw and gave instructions to the driver.<br />
<br />
"Driver take you to hospital. You pay him 40 rupees, Madame.<br />
<br />
The young driver pulled out into the street and before I could think or speak, we were off.<br />
<br />
I stared down at my leg in horror and morbid fascination. My main fear wasn't death by rabies, although from accounts I've read, it certainly wouldn't be my first choice of how to go - a horrifying two weeks of excruciating pain and insanity - but for me, the fear was: will the puncture wound affect my calf muscle and impede my dancing?<br />
<br />
At the first clinic my driver stopped at, an old man cleaning the floor with a dirty old rag, waved us away and we darted off again.<br />
<br />
The driver pulled up to the Government Hospital and turned off the engine. He helped me out of the rickshaw and ushered me into the dark emergency entrance. He explained what had happened to me to various curious people, maybe hospital staff, maybe not, I had no idea Finally one young man in cheap jeans and a navy blue polo short dotted with the tiny white lint balls that form on cheap polyesther fabric came over and listened intently to my driver. Since he had a stethyscope dangling around his neck, I assumed he was a doctor. He ushered me into an examination room and told me to sit on a metal stool.<br />
<br />
"Ok, Madame?" my driver asked. You want I wait?"<br />
<br />
"No. No, thank you," I said and dug through my purse for his 40 rupees.<br />
<br />
He took it from me with the typical waggle of the head, but his eyes returned to mine.<br />
<br />
"Ok, Madame?" I felt his reluctance to leave me, his ward, his injured passenger.<br />
<br />
"Yes. Yes. It's okay. You can go."<br />
<br />
"Okay, Madame." He smiled weakly, turned and left.<br />
<br />
The lint ball doctor's face was more Chinese than Indian- Round, his skin color very light. He spoke good English.<br />
<br />
"Okay, Madame, you will have to wait a bit. Main doctor coming soon. Please just sit and relax." He spoke gently and slowly, with sweetness and compassion while just outside the doorless opening to the room a cluster of dark-skinned people stared at me. When I turned my head toward them, I met the black eyes of twelve black faces that studied me, expressionlessly.<br />
<br />
"Excuse me," I said to the Chinese-looking doctor, "is it possible to clean the wound with some antisceptic while I'm waiting for the doctor?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, yes. Please follow me, Man."<br />
<br />
We parted the lake of waiting patients and he led me to the next room where two tiny yellow-saried nurses with white nurses caps were busily sorting through some stacks.<br />
<br />
Sunil, my guardian angel, was from the far North of India.<br />
<br />
"You don't look Indian," I said.<br />
<br />
"In the North everybody look like me. Chinese type face. Near Tibet. I"m a medical student here."<br />
<br />
He had just completed his all night shift in the emergency ward when I walked in ashen-faced and bleeding from four fang punctures. <br />
<br />
He engaged in intense conversation with the two nurses. The more aggressive of the two turned to me and in very pidgeon English said; "You eat? Morning." She pointed vigorously to the floor. "Morning? You eat?"<br />
<br />
"Half a papaya and chai," I answered when I could finally figure out what she was asking me.<br />
<br />
How this figured into the treatment for a dog bite - the possibility of rabies and infection - I couldn't imagine, but she was adamant about the need for me to eat something.<br />
<br />
After wetting tiny wisps of cotton with some liquid and bare-handed dabbing at the fang holes and wiping the blood spilling down my legs, he simply tossed the bloody bits of cotton on the dull gray cement floor, and rubbed his hands together, spreading my blood evenly over them before finding a tissue to wipe them with.<br />
<br />
The tiny vociferous nurse kept up a diatribe and when he led me out of the room, he told me I must go out and get something to eat.<br />
<br />
"But I can't walk," I said in a pitiable whine as I hobbled out of the room.<br />
<br />
"Okay Mam. You sit on this tool and wait here. I'll be right back with something for you." And he grabbed a motorcycle helmet and disappeared out the back door of the hospital.<br />
<br />
He was back in just a few minutes and handed me two packages of orange-creme-filled biscuits.<br />
<br />
The idea of eating anything seed repugnant, but I forced myself to eat three, afraid of the fierce nurse, and drank some water.<br />
<br />
"Okay, Mam, main doctor come now," said Sunil and he ushered me back into the first room.<br />
<br />
A tall doctor in jeans and a blue shirt looked superciliously down at my leg as Sunil explained my situation to him.<br />
<br />
'Please step on the scale to be weighed," Sunil said.<br />
<br />
"Forty-seven k," he announced to the doctor, who made some notes on a piece of paper and waved me out of the office.<br />
<br />
So once again, Sunil walked, as I limped into the room with the two nurses.<br />
<br />
Thank God, the tough nurse was a good stick. One injection in my right upper arm. One injection in my left upper arm. One injection in my hip. And one injection at the spot in my calf in the middle of the teeth bites.<br />
<br />
Sunil led me out, told me to lean against the wall and went up to the dispensary. He returned with a packet of antibiotics to fight the infection. A tube of iodine ointment. And a packet of paracetymol for the pain. He patiently explained how I should go home, wash well with soap and water and the schedule for the remaining four more anti-rabies shots.<br />
<br />
"How you go home, Madame?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"Rickshaw," I said.<br />
<br />
"Come Madame. Please," he said. "My shift finished. I take you your guest house."<br />
<br />
I climbed onto the back of this saint's motorbike and he took me to where I was staying.<br />
<br />
"Thank you so much," I stammered tears flooding my eyes.<br />
<br />
"It's alright," he said looking down at the ground. No problem."<br />
<br />
And this dear saint drove off.<br />
<br />
I stand watching him turn the corner and feel like Blanche Dubois. "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." <br />
<br />
.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-28242686086249590552013-04-09T02:16:00.000-07:002013-04-09T02:16:31.925-07:00The Special Tourist's Holi, Jodhpur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
It will probably take a week to completely get rid of all the clots of powdered color and wads of flower petals lodged in every crease of my skin and entwined in every strand of my techno color hair.<br />
<br />
Each time I rinsed my hair and ran my fingers from my scalp outward, new bits of petals clung to my face and neck.<br />
<br />
<br />"All tourists sit down!" yells the stout fascist woman facilitating this special 'Tourist's Holi Festival.'<br />
<br />
We sit as local notables are announced, stand, place their hands over their hearts, palms together, and bow.<br />
<br />
"All tourists come forward to be welcomed," Saffron, as she later introduces herself to me, furrows her brows and indicates that Indian photographers should step to the back.<br />
<br />
We continue to sit, not understanding what it is she requires of us. She strides over to us and starts yanking us to our feet and pushing us toward the line up of brightly turbaned dignitaries waiting to place garlands of yellow, orange, and rust-colored marigold around our necks.<br />
<br />
As the first garland is placed around the neck of blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman, the drumming starts.<br />
<br />
Five young men surround one large flat circular drum. One beats with a padded tom tom, others beat with sticks - the same primal beat that 's been pounding all through the narrow lanes of Brahmin-blue houses and havelies since yesterday.<br />
<br />
Needless to say for those of you who know me , as soon as the drumming starts, my body responds, follows the impetus, and I start dancing.<br />
<br />
When Madame Nazi Organizer spies me twirling my hands and hips Rajasthani gypsy style, she immediately rushes over, grabs my wrist, and pulls me in front of the dignitaries. She then extols the rest of the foreigners to "Come and dance! All tourists come here and dance!"<br />
<br />
The four young women from the Uk that I had met earlier in the day and agreed to meet at this happening, stand, and looking from one to the other, slowly make their way over to join me. The rest of the tourists follow suit.<br />
<br />
After ten minutes the drumming stops and tourists are told once again: "All tourists sit down!"<br />
<br />
A large group of Indian children scramble in front of the tourists and sit. This seems to arouse the rancor of Saffron. She yells at them and motions for them to move behind the tourists. When they fail to respond, she starts grabbing them by their tiny arms, and to the horror of many of the young, new-aged Europeans, yanking them to the back. A group of Rajasthani gypsies appear, their musicians drumming on bendirs and tefs, one man playing a reed instrument similar to a zorna, and two women and two drummers singing. A slight adolescent boy takes center stage and performs an amazing belly dance - the coin belt around his slim hips jingling and janglih every which way. <br />
<br />
He's followed by a stout woman in yards of wide black skirt covered with mirrors and sequins and bright embroidery. She performs back bends, picking up a one hundred rupee note in her teeth, then shakes and shimmies and twirls - her skirt flaring out around her. Another woman - younger and slimmer, dressed in the same dazzling outfit joins the first and then of course, Madame Organizer once again rushes over to me, grabs me and pushes me to join them.<br />
<br />
To the amazement of both women, I follow every move they do, and soon we're performing as a threesome.<br />
<br />
"All tourists, stand, come forward, and dance!" announces Saffron.<br />
<br />
When the area in front of the stage is filled with tourists, one man feeds piles of rose, marigold and daisy petals into the gaping mouth of a reverse vacuum cleaner, while another man points the hose upward. A shower of flower petals rain down on us: red, rust, orange, yellow, and white. I raise my palms and face into the fragrant flower shower.<br />
<br />
"Happy Holi!" yells Saffron into the mike.<br />
<br />
The children grab fistfuls of petals from the ground and hurl them at one another and the tourists.<br />
<br />
"Happy Holi," trumpets Saffron. "It's color time!"<br />
<br />
Instead of flower petals, bags of powdered, colored dye are poured into the blowing machine and it's raining pink, yellow, green, orange, blue and purple. The air is filled with the perfumed dust of color. Streams of color create rainbow arcs in the air.<br />
<br />
The children go berserk. They run to the bags of color, dig their hands in, and annoint the faces of everyone they can. They take handfuls of brilliant powder and hurl it at each other and everyone around. <br />
<br />
Before my eyes people are transformed into a different species - a technicolor tribe of dancing, yelling, frolicking people. Faces of purple and orange or green and pink. Bodies splattered with blazes of color. Hair thick with dayglow swabs.<br />
<br />
The drumming grows more frenzied. Color flies.<br />
<br />
"Happy Holi! Happy Holi!" everyone yells. <br />
<br />
And all over India, people celebrate the vanquishing of the evil Holikar. The world made safe for humans. </div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-44384457034027062762013-04-05T06:47:00.001-07:002013-04-05T06:47:55.172-07:00Jodhpur Twilight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Dusk turns the Brahmin-blue buildings a deeper shade of blue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Pale as morning sky in the harsh mid-day sun, at twilight the buildings and homes seem to suck the last indigo rays of the darkening sky, blazing radiant for a brief moment before night shadows the world and the spotlights are turned on the Mehrangarh<span style="color: #444444;"> Fort.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;"><i style="color: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">I"m the only person seated at this rooftop restaurant enjoying the spectacle of light and shade and sound. And I"m perfectly at peace. And thrilled.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large; line-height: 16px;"><i style="color: inherit; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">I remember the sad, anxious, neurotic young woman I used to be, terrified to be alone. Now I've learned to savor my aloneness. I sit in luxuriant equanimity, my past left behind in the States. I think</i></span></span><span style="color: inherit; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;"> </span><i style="color: inherit; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px;">about one of the things I've read about sadhus</i>. <span style="font-size: large;">You cannot ask them about their past.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">From below me, children beat drums throughout the warrens of narrow lanes. Their excitement grows as Holi approaches. Already they leap and hop through the lanes, chattering and laughing as they practice with empty magnum water guns for that day when their guns will be filled with paint.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">The aroma of mustard seeds crackling in hot oil rises up from the kitchens below.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">My waiter and cook emerges from the steps. His name is Sunil. He stands staring out at the fort as he shares his story with me. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">"I'm from Pokhara, in Nepal," he tells me. "Not like India there. Green. Beautiful. Now it's three years I am in India. But end of this month I go back for a visit. I miss my family."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">He tells me he has six sisters and one little brother who is five-years-old. "I come here to work. Here I can make money for my family. In Nepal. No work. No money."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">He invites to come to his home in Pokhara. "You will like it Madame. Everyone there very friendly. Very nice. You stay with my family."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">I thank him for his generous invitation, but explain it's not possible.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br />"Okay," he says. "Maybe next time."</span></span></span></span></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-40769160781798764812013-04-01T01:06:00.002-07:002013-04-01T01:06:27.667-07:00road repair in Jodhpur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
The morning I arrived in Jodhpur there was a tall stack of rubble and two overturned wheelbarrows blocking the newly paved street to my guesthouse. The still wet cement was decorated by an array of dog prints, hoof prints and bird-foot prints, like an intricate tribal wood-cut design.<br />
<br />
Adding my own marks, I stepped lightly in the pre-dawn dark, making my way to my next stay.<br />
<br />
Later that afternoon, one man was filling one of the wheel barrows that had blocked the road at dawn with sand and pouring it atop the now dry cement, creating a street not unlike one long sand box.<br />
<br />
Early evening I literally gasped as I turned the corner of the street on my way back to my guest house.<br />
<br />
A young man with a hose was turning the entire street into a gloppy river of mud. There wasn't one inch dry enough to walk on without the mud sloshing over the top and sides of my sandals and oozing between my toes. Adding to the muck was cow piss and shit, otherwise somewhat avoidable, but now ingredients of this street soup.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing?" I asked the man with the hose as he continued to add more water to the mess. <br />
<br />
"Road repair, Madame," he answered as he sprayed.<br />
<br />
By the next morning I sighed a sigh of relief. The gop had dried and once again there was terra firma. I happily made my way to the clock tower to sip masala chai with the guys on the tiny narrow wooden benches.<br />
<br />
But evening brought a new wave of incredulity.<br />
<br />
Once again the young man was hosing the street and again turning it into a mass muck of mud.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing?" I asked, my mouth gaping open in horror and disbelief.<br />
<br />
"Road repair, Madame," he answered without averting his eyes from his task.<br />
<br />
All day, tourists and locals alike sloshed through the river of mud and cow piss, searching in vain for spots of dry land.<br />
<br />
By the third day of this cycle, I stopped asking. I knew what he was doing - street repair Jodhpur style.<br />
<br />
I've left Jodhpur but can't help but wonder if he's still at it.</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-42885460296229060272013-04-01T01:03:00.002-07:002013-04-01T01:03:42.529-07:00road repair in Jodhpur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
The morning I arrived in Jodhpur there was a tall stack of rubble and two overturned wheelbarrows blocking the newly paved street to my guesthouse. The still wet cement was decorated by an array of dog prints, hoof prints and bird-foot prints, like an intricate tribal wood-cut design.<br />
<br />
Adding my own marks, I stepped lightly in the pre-dawn dark, making my way to my next stay.<br />
<br />
Later that afternoon, one man was filling one of the wheel barrows that had blocked the road at dawn with sand and pouring it atop the now dry cement, creating a street not unlike one long sand box.<br />
<br />
Early evening I literally gasped as I turned the corner of the street on my way back to my guest house.<br />
<br />
A young man with a hose was turning the entire street into a gloppy river of mud. There wasn't one inch dry enough to walk on without the mud sloshing over the top and sides of my sandals and oozing between my toes. Adding to the muck was cow piss and shit, otherwise somewhat avoidable, but now ingredients of this street soup.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing?" I asked the man with the hose as he continued to add more water to the mess. <br />
<br />
"Road repair, Madame," he answered as he sprayed.<br />
<br />
By the next morning I sighed a sigh of relief. The gop had dried and once again there was terra firma. I happily made by way to the clock tower to sip masala chai with the guys on the tiny narrow wooden benches.<br />
<br />
But evening brought a new wave of incredulity.<br />
<br />
Once again the young man was hosing the street and again turning it into a mass muck of mud.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing?" I asked, my mouth gaping open in horror and disbelief.<br />
<br />
"Road repair, Madame," he answered without averting his eyes from his task.<br />
<br />
All day, tourists and locals alike sloshed through the river of mud and cow piss, searching in vain for spots of dry land.<br />
<br />
By the third day of this cycle, I stopped asking. I knew what he was doing - street repair Jodhpur style.<br />
<br />
I've left Jodhpur but can't help but wonder if he's still at it.</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-20023335636054917532013-03-30T07:22:00.002-07:002013-03-30T07:22:59.743-07:00My new best friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Mahiri Dyana looks maybe 65. She's stunning. <br />
<br />
She tells me she is 78. I can't believe it. Her skin is smooth except for a little sagging here and there, a few wrinkles. She bubbles with energy and speaks English with a strong French accent and gets frustrated when Indians don't understand her.<br />
<br />
She stops a mother on the street whose baby is bundled in heavy clothes and a blanket.<br />
<br />
"He's too hot," she scolds. "Too many clothes," she says louder and more slowly to the uncomprehending mother. "Look at you - you're not wearing heavy clothes." Mahiri pulls at the woman's sari to illustrate her point.<br />
<br />
At first the woman smiles warmly as do most people here in Mandvi, by the Sea of Kutch. Then she realizes by Mahiri's tone and expression that she's being scolded. She pulls her baby portectively away from the crazy French woman, her smile turning downwards into a frown.<br />
<br />
The people here and in Bhuj are the friendliest people I've ever encountered anywhere. Everyone smiles and says "Hello." On the street. In restaurants. Old people, women, men, children. It feels incredibly safe and easy being here.<br />
<br />
My new best friend's name was given to her by Osho. As the woman with the overwrapped baby scuttles away, she mumbles a diatribe in French. We sidestep mounds of fresh cow shit.<br />
<br />
A motorcycle swerves past us.<br />
<br />
"Polution!" she yells at the young driver pointing to the gray smoke pouring out his exhaust pipe.<br />
<br />
We pass the "Movie Star Saloon Men's Barber."<br />
<br />
Mahiri has founded a school for girls in one of the slums of Mumbai. She has gathered sponsors for 130 girls in Calcutta. Her Indian visa expires mid-June and she's on the chase of a man in Rishikesh who sells 'under the table' visas.<br />
<br />
"They don't want me to continue my work here. But I will find a way."<br />
<br />
We walk along an old brick wall. Two women in red and green saris look up at us from their work. The saris drape elegantly. The two women continue their work. They shape cow shit into patties and press them against the wall to dry. The wall is plastered with cow dung patties whose surfaces are covered with hand prints. It looks like a modern art installation. The dried dung will be used for cooking. Or for the great mounds to be set aflame on Holi. <br />
<br />
"Looks like itshould be in a museun," Mahiri says. "You know, I could die here," she adds. "But I have too many things to do first."<br />
<br />
A man yells at us: "Madame, your money is falling!"<br />
<br />
The zipper on Mahiri's bag doesn't close and loose ruppee coins spill from her bag that she has somehow managed to turn upside down. <br />
<br />
"Thank you! Thank you!" we call to the man and I bend to help her pick up the coins.<br />
<br />
A large billboard advertises:<br />
<br />
Multi Cousin Restaurant<br />
<i>Better than your imagination</i></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-65270547050857942252013-03-30T06:55:00.001-07:002013-03-30T06:55:26.220-07:00The Tribal Territory of Bhuj<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
If Rose were a rose, she'd be a velvety apricot rose with a creamy center, edged in dark peach.<br />
<br />
She's from California, now living in Brooklyn. A writer and editor. Jewish. Smart. Sensitive. A perfect companion on this auto rickshaw excursion to the tribal villages North of Bhuj in Kutch.<br />
<br />
As we bounce along a small road, we ply each other with question. I want to know about this thirty-year-old's life in Brooklyn. After ten years living abroad, I want to know about the states.<br />
<br />
She wants to know about my life as a sixteen-year-old runaway in NYC in 1964. <br />
<br />
Our rickshaw driver and guide is Bharat - a tall strand of spaghetti floating in pressed blue jeans and a precisely ironed long-sleeve gray shirt. He's minus a good bunch of teeth, but makes up for it by sporting huge tufts of hair curling from the lower outside of both ear lobes. From the back of the rickshaw he reminds me of some sort of mythical goat man. His hair is cropped short - a color usually referred to as 'salt and pepper.' One long strand dangles down the back of his head, indicating that there's been a recent death in the family - his hair just growing back after the ritual head shaving that leaves the head slick and bald except for a strand of hair at the center back of the head.<br />
<br />
"Did you ever see The Velvet Underground?" Rose asks as we buzz through country that could be somewhere in America's Southwest. Maybe New Mexico, or Arizona, or somewhere in Nevada.<br />
<br />
Visions of New York's Lower East Side suddenly flash before my eyes. Long forgotten memories pop out of a dusty file cabinet in my brain like a scene from an old favorite movie. Only it wasn't a film. It was my life.<br />
<br />
"On the night of the opening of Andy Warhol's 'Exploding Live Plastic Inevitable' I was walking back to my one room, cold-water flat on East 8th St, when I bumped into Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky. I had met them at poetry readings at Le Metro Cafe on 2nd Ave. Peter kept inviting me over to their apartment. I showed up on a Saturday morning. Allen was eating pickled herring and rye bread and asked me to join him. Anyway...Peter invited me to join them for this big opening of Warhol's 'disco', so I tailed along. Since, I came with Allen, people there thought i must be someone important and let me in for free after that. It was a great place to panhandle. I'd hit up a few people here and there before leaving and always got enough money for the the next day's food." <br />
<br />
"Did you get to know any of the Velvet Underground," Rose asks.<br />
<br />
"Well, I knew Niko. She was always lamenting the price she paid for her beauty." (I adopt a husky German accent.) "'You don't know what it's like. Women hate me. Men are afraid to approach me. I am always alone and lonely. Heroine is my only friend.'"<br />
<br />
Rose laughs. "Yes, that fits exactly with her music."<br />
<br />
The rickshaw pulls into a small village of white-washed mud huts. My brain catapults forty-eight years forward from the ragged streets of the Lower East Side to the dusty lane of this tribal village in Kutch.<br />
<br />
I leave my large purple shawl and sunglasses in the back of the rickshaw and step out into the welcoming smiles of a group of Rabari people. The women wear a special blouse with brightly colored front pouches for the breasts. It ties with two sets of ribbon in the back. Their ear lobes have huge elongated holes from which dangle heavy gold earrings. Around their necks they wear their marriage necklaces--a gold toothpick, a gold ear wax remover, and a rectangular gold locket containing a special prayer hang from a thick black cord.<br />
<br />
Bharat emerges wearing my sunglasses and my purple shawl rakishly wrapped around his neck. He leads us to an open room where one man dressed from head to toe in off-white, sits at a hand-made loom weaving a tapestry. Rose and I watch as he slowly, patiently maneuvers threads and various wooden implements, creating an intricate design. <br />
<br />
"All in his head," Bharat tells us. "Interesting?" "Good feeling, Madame?"<br />
<br />
We assure Mr. Hairy Ears that it's very interesting and that we feel good.<br />
<br />
He repeats this refrain throughout the entire day like some kind of a mantra. "Interesting?" Good feeling?"<br />
<br />
This leads me to picture Mr. Hairy Ears in bed with his wife. I can see them having sex. Mr. Hairy Ears repeating "Good feeling wife? Interesting?"<br />
<br />
Children surround us. Smile bashfully. They sit near us. I sit opposite the oldest and most open. I begin a patty-cake game and soon each girl wants to play with me.<br />
<br />
The day slides between past and present. Between tales of me, Allen Ginsberg, and Peter Orlovsky marching down 5th Avenue playing finger cymbols and chanting 'Hare Krishna' (Allen and Peter had just returned from India) to tribes of people making hand-made laquered wooden goods, stitching incredible embroidery with hand-cut glass sewed in.<br />
<br />
We stop for lunch in another village. While waiting for a woman to cook our food, Bharat starts massaging my feet.<br />
<br />
"Good feeling, Mam," he asks as he expertly presses his hard hands into the right places on my feet. When he finishes with me, he moves on to Rose's feet.<br />
<br />
A women emerges from her hut with metal plates of steaming food. Rose and I sit cross-legged on a charpoy and enjoy home-made chappatis with dal and aloo.<br />
<br />
The day is filled with "good feeling," everything is very "interesting," Rose is a perfect companion, and Mr. Hairy Ears turns out to speak every dialect of every tribe and be a font of knowledge as well as a wonderful foot masseur.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-48331357477048738522013-03-26T07:11:00.001-07:002013-03-26T07:11:26.998-07:00a good luck breakfast<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
The Cadillac Hotel in Ahmedabad is much more of a rusty old Ford than a Cadillac. But when i arrived in my bare-bones room, one man immediately came into the room, sprinkled some sort of whitish liquid on the mirror and wiped it off with an old newspaper page. He was followed by the ubiquitous floor cleaner. A young man who pours some water on the floor from a metal pitcher and then using his foot, swishes a rag around on the floor. Everything in the spartan room was very old and very used. But it suited me. <br />
<br />
When I asked the manager for a recommendation for a good 'veg' restaurant, he directed me across the street to the Kailipa. <br />
<br />
As I approached the entrance, two young Muslim women were also entering.<br />
<br />
"This must be a good place if you're coming here," I said.<br />
<br />
"Please join us," one of them said as we entered the dimly lit but cool restaurant at the same time.<br />
<br />
My two new companions are Ramana and Shabana. Shabana is Ramana's aunt. Romana is in Ahmedabad to take her KET English exams. She has just married an Indian man employed and living in the UK and is in the process of doing whatever she can to get a visa to join him.<br />
<br />
"Your English is very good," I tell her. "You will certainly do very well in your exam. I know because I'm an English teacher in Turkey and I"ve given many KET exams."<br />
<br />
"Thank you," she smiles a big beautiful smile. "I hope so. Yesterday I did the speaking part. Today, I must do writing. I teach English to children, so I hope I will do OK."<br />
<br />
We order our breakfast and chat. They tell me about the places they've visited: Chicago, England and Zambiye.<br />
<br />
"We have relatives in many places in the world," they tell me. "We are very lucky to travel to many different places."<br />
<br />
<br />
When the bill comes, Shabana, the aunt, immediately takes it. I try to pay for my part, but she refuses.<br />
<br />
"It will bring me good luck," smiles Ramana.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5423692342472387070.post-75751860061433599002013-03-24T05:15:00.002-07:002013-03-24T05:15:24.202-07:00Ah Nasik<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
Why more tourists don't come here, I don't know. I never see another white face or hear another language spoken when I'm here.<br />
<br />
Nasik is the 4th holiest place in India and in a place like India with temples and palaces, monuments and sacred rivers around every corner - that's saying a lot.<br />
<br />
In the morning, the Holy Godavari river glints like a mirror. The wailing women in saris of blazing color, stand by the edge of the river, their doubles reflected in the river. Families come here after the death of a family member. Men sit and wait to have their heads shaved with only one special lock left in the middle of the back of their heads. They are dressed all in white: white dhoti (the Gandhi, diaper-like garment) and white shawl draped around their otherwise naked upper body, and do strange rituals with rice balls, roots and twigs.<br />
<br />
The temple bell clangs. Priests utter incantations. Women gather water from the sacred river in their cupped palms and offer prayers. Burning incense fills the area as men walk into the river and submerge themselves and women walk slowly down a few steps into the oily water in their saris and dribble water over each other's heads. <br />
<br />
In the evening there is arti. People come, buy little baskets of flowers with a candle in the center, light the candle and float the basket down the river. Other people hold their baskets and circle them in wide arcs, led by the Hindu priest.<br />
<br />
After evening arti, my rumbling stomach tells me its time to find food. I decide to try the Manas Pure Veg Restaurant. <br />
<br />
I walk up the steps (there's no door) and enter. The place is deserted. Two men - one young, and one middle-aged, mustachioed man rush up to me. <br />
<br />
"Can I see your menu," I ask.<br />
<br />
"Yes. Yes," they both say. Indians are prone to repeating things two times. The older man indicates that I should walk to the back of the restaurant. The younger man escorts me to a metal sink.<br />
<br />
Do I look dirty, I wonder.<br />
<br />
"Menu. Menu," I say, now also getting in the habit of repeating things two times, as well as wagging my head side to side, as I mime holding a rectangular object that I've drawn in the air with my hands. <br />
<br />
"Oh menu," he laughs and shares this joke with the other five young men who are not customers, but whose jobs I'm unable to ascertain, as they're just kind of hanging around doing nothing. <br />
<br />
He gestures that I should sit at a booth and immediately brings me the ubiquitous metal glass of water that I won't drink because it comes from the tap.<br />
<br />
"Menu," I remind him.<br />
<br />
He scuttles off laughing and returns with a glossy six page menu. <br />
<br />
Suddenly the restaurant fills with smoke. Mr. Mustache parades through the restaurant carrying two half coconut shells from which great plumes of smoke pour out. I'm not sure if its incense as part of some evening puja, or if he's defogging the place for mosquitoes. The smell is terrifically strong and the place has gone so gray with smoke I can't see anything. As my throat fills with the pungent stuff I grab my water bottle and take a huge gulp.<br />
<br />
When the smoke finally clears I read the menu. When I look up, four young men, who I guess are employees, are leaning on the wall that surrounds my booth and staring at me.<br />
<br />
"Hi guys," I say and smile.<br />
<br />
They smile sheepishly and continue to stare at me until Mr. Mustache, the smoke distributor, shouts at them and they disperse.<br />
<br />
A young man in shorts and a t-shirt pours water on the floor from a metal pitcher, then squats down on the floor and wipes it with a dirty cloth. He smiles up at me and happily continues his work.<br />
<br />
The young man in jeans and yellow t-shirt who showed me to the sink, places a large and small metal plate in front of me. When I move them, he returns and re-adjusts them to their original position. Clearly, the smaller plate belongs on the right of the larger one and not the other way around. Who knew?<br />
<br />
A few minutes later he presents me with a medium-sized metal plate containing about three small red onions cut into halves, about six small lines cut into halves, and a small round metal bowl with a reddish-orange paste filled with slices of green things. <br />
<br />
"What is this?" I ask.<br />
<br />
"Yes. Yes," he says. "You want juice?"<br />
<br />
"No juice," I say, then point to the bowl of red paste. "What's this?"<br />
<br />
His brows knit in concentration. He looks into my eyes, then down at the plate. He tells me something in his language and smiles.<br />
<br />
I put a tiny bit of it on my tongue. Spicy hot. Salty. And incredibly strange. I try a bit of the green bits. Sour First sensation - I hate it and I"m sure my face is contorted with distaste. But a second later an amazing thing happens. I want more. Each flavor is so clear and distinct, alive on a different part of my tongue. Hot. Salty. Sour.<br />
<br />
The young ;man who was washing the floor returns in a pair of clean black jeans, a tan, button-down, rayon-looking shirt, and a dot of red paste in the middle of his forehead. Official waiter by night. Floor washer by day.<br />
<br />
Periodically a young man wearing a cook's apron, and another two guys come over, lean on the wall, and watch me write in my journal. Sometimes three other guys join them. How many men work in this place and what in the world do they all do?<br />
<br />
By now other families have filled other booths. Drinking lassis. Chatting. Eating.<br />
<br />
When I stand to leave, seven young men line up like a good-bye committee. They grin and wag their heads.<br />
<br />
"Bye guys!" I say.<br />
<br />
"Good-bye!" they sing out in unison like a scene in a Bollywood movie. <br />
<br />
I walk out into the street, doge the assault of motor vehicles, and make my way to Hotel Abhishek. <br />
</div>
dianewandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12688949211178531179noreply@blogger.com0