Back to Reality

After that wonderful two week Morocco break from the daily grind, life in the everyday routine was bound to seem monotonous. Surprisingly, I am still sane and happy with my lot. I know this is narcissistic, but I constantly look inside my head to see if I miss my work schedule, my coworkers and that feeling of being productive and being paid for my work. So far, my self-esteem and sense of who I am seems to have survived the lack of workplace excitement.
That is not to say I have been idle. I have rekindled my old liking of creating original recipes. Mostly, I start a recipe, discover I don't have a vital ingredient and scramble to cover the gap with what I do have and what might work in the mix. Voila, a new star is born! Well, they are not all stars, but some I might brag, actually went over quite well. So that has given me courage to start a cooking blog. We'll see where this takes me.
I feel happy that I finally ended the blogging drought. For the past few months I have not written anything and the guilt was gnawing at my procrastination, being an annoying reminder of the things that need to be said. Well, a sudden attack of insomnia has been turned to good use as I get some thoughts out of my head. More to come, my reflections on the death of true friendship and the march of the networkers.

Morocco Mon Amour

Riding camels in the Sahara Desert

City of Essaouira on the Atlantic coast

Sunset on the Atlantic, in Agadir

Morocco Forever

Appetizer Course in Fez

4 storey carpet store in Fez

Kasbah Ibn Haddou-Oldest kasbah in Morocco

Morocco-The After Effects

It has been almost six months since we travelled to Morocco. Yet the memories remain as warm and happy as the day we landed in Casablanca. I have realized that words cannot begin to express the joy and wonder we experienced on this trip. I have instead chosen a handful of photographs to express what my words cannot.

Worshipper in Casablanca

Tomb of Mohammad V

City of Moulay Idris

Tanneries of Fez. The yellow in the corner is made from saffron, the most expensive spice and color.

Just because

I cannot believe it has been three months since I wrote a line here. Especially now that I am retired, as everyone ceaselessly reminds me. Am I liking this extra time for myself? Am I happy? All good questions but I don't have the answers. Help, I'm going to fail this test!!

The Quiet One

Today I'm taking a break from rhapsodizing about Morocco, though there's more to come of that. Today I want to think about Meredeth Kercher, the English foreign exchange student who was murdered in Perugia, Italy four years ago.I just read that both Rafael Sollecito and Amanda Knox, convicted and then freed of all charges of murder, have a book deal with Harpercollins and Simon and Schuster for 4 million dollars each. With all the sensation that has surronded the case, it is hard to know what really happened.
I do not want to debate whether Amanda Knox deserves the attention and millions she is getting. I do not see any merit or hard work on her part that entitles her to a book deal. And if surviving four years in a foreign prison is reason enough for memorializing, then there are many wrongly convicted prisoners lingering on death row with more heart wrenching stories.
My opinions are based on newspaper reports and I know that can be misleading. Instead, I want to remember Meredeth Kercher, the quiet unassuming girl who by all accounts was the studious type. No one seems to remember her academic dedication and hard work in a foreign country. No one seems to take into account the fact that while there's ample opportunity to not study, to take the path of fun and frolic, Meredeth did not do so. She deserves the book deal, in my opinion, of how to keep one's focus and dignity when everyone else around her are losing theirs.
I'm sure the papers in England are talking about her. I hope they are. I wish the media in the US would treat the world as their backyard, instead of their backyard as the world.

Hold my hand, I want you to hold my hand

I heard this song a long time ago, I think it was by Hootie and The Blowfish. This line kept running in my head as we entered and walked through the Medina at Fes.
A Medina is the old town in any Moroccan city. Sometimes they are walled cities and in some places the walls have crumbled down. In Fes, within the walls of the Medina lies a vibrant and bustling center of commerce. This was the highlight of our stay in Fes and I was eager to make my way through the narrow alleys.
The first thing I saw as we got out of the car were the donkeys carrying sheep, camel and goat skins to the nearby tanneries. Moroccan leather is world famous (this is where the Italian designers come shopping) and Fes is where it all goes down. As we walked down the narrow cobbled street, flanked by old houses on all sides our guide told us to stay close and keep a firm hold on the kids. " If you get lost here, you'll spend the rest of your life here". Charming as the old town sights and smell are, I'm not sure I want to settle down here. So we huddled and clung to each other's hands for dear life as we walked single file. There was only room for one person going in opposite directions, but somehow it all seemed to flow smoothly. Fast forward inside the tannery where we are handed a sprig of mint. As we get nearer, the reason is clear. I need my mint if I want to breathe. So there I was, sprig in one hand, other hand tightly grasping a six year old. The stench is awful but the sights of those leather bags and jackets in red green blue orange and yellow is breathtaking.All organic colors. Orange, my favorite, is made from henna while yellow is made from the very expensive herb saffron. Naturally, yellow leather products were the most expensive. I fell in love with a yellow coat, but decided in the end to stick with my longtime ally, orange.
The Medina is huge. I mean gargantuan. With tiny narrow alleys that zigzag, curve, go uphill or down. On both sides are shops with handicrafts (carpets, leather, brass lamps, woodworkers), food vendors (brochetters which are barbecued meat on a stick, flaky cinnamon pastries, nuts and dates) and wrought iron furniture. A shopper's paradise, though the shopper might get lost in her meanderings.
A picture is worth a thousand words. So here are a few glimpses.

Vive Le Maroc!!

I don't speak French. Running the risk of massive grammatical errors and thus becoming the butt of jokes for all French speaking and knowing friends, I will give this post a French title. Going by the example above, I can give anyone a run for their money with run-on sentences! But back to the topic of this post.
As I might have mentioned in an earlier post, this is my flirty fortieth birthday. As a special gift, my dear husband bought us all a trip to Morocco. As a kid, he lived there for seven years (oh Brad Pitt think how much better a movie that could have been!) and I have always been mesmerized by the glamorous and exciting stories of Marrakesh (which is written Marrakech is French) and Casablanca.
I was pinching myself as we got off the plan in Casablanca. I am here!! Truly really in Morocco. It was blindingly sunny, mildly chilly and there were palm trees everywhere. Also, everyone is speaking Arabic and/ or French. Not a bit of English to be heard in any corner.
There are too many things to talk about. So in this first post, I will talk about Volubilis. Between the cities of Rabat and Fes, tucked away near the town of Moulay Idris in Northern Morocco, are the Roman ruins of Volubilis. I knew the French had colonized north Africa, and also the Dutch and the English, but I had no idea the Romans got there first. In hindsight, why not? It's right next to Spain, and the Roman generals weren't exactly stay-at-home types anyway.
The ruins look much like those in Rome, with the stone remains of beautifully planned villas. Wide and straight streets, under which were built in sewage drains. Roads ran North and South. There was a main road the connected the entrance gate to the city with the Arc d'Triomph like structure at the other end. One side of the street were for villas of aristocrats, the other for commoners. Much like our right side of the tracks versus the undesirables. There were meticulously planned courtyards with fountains, baths and forums (open public meeting spaces) that would have pleased a Caesar or a Claudius back in the day.
What struck me at Volubilis are the amazing two thousand years old mosaic floors! Each villa we passed through could boast at least one room where the mosaic floor still depicted Greek themes like Ariadne by the beach, or the Labors of Hercules or Diana hunting. The unexpected beauty of this ancient Roman colony left me speechless. The symmetrical lines of the columns, graceful arches and the detailed attention given to planning this remote outpost left me in awe of Roman civil engineering. Here are a few pictures before we enter the maze of a Medina at Fes.

Missing U

My laptop is old. Like most things which get old, it frequently refuses to listen to my tapping fingers. Today, the U key has decided to go on strike. All day long I have been sending emails in gansta speak as my yous are all yos, and all my u-words have mysteriously become nknown, nforeseen and nfamiliar. Can I live withot a syllable? Live a little on the wild side...

Off Center

Masao Miyoshi, reputed Japanologist wrote a book years ago called " Off Center". I liked the title I have shamelessly appripriated it for this post. The book I think was about non-mainstream perspectives on Japanese culture. My post however is all about harmony and the need for an anchor. Yoga and new agey fusionizing philosophies have all discussed this. Our need as people to find a focal point somewhere in our life or deep inside, where everything is in complete harmony. The yin and the yang working together, working well, so that even if the outward trappings of work or school or neighbors and friends are not always in sync, the inner harmonious voice will remain the voice of calm and peace.

What happens when this inner calm is shaken so hard, it feels as if all aspects of life is falling apart? We see evidence on TV daily of people behaving berserk, of families communities and countries developing cracks because their core belief that things will work out no longer seems credible. Chinua Achebe wrote a wonderful book "When Things Fall Apart" about change and its vicissitudes in an African family. I wish I had a quart of his skill to write about changes in an expat family, in a transplanted nomad existence where change is expected and mostly welcome, but harmony and balance is still crucial. As I battle through my feelings of fear and anger, I am trying to keep this inner balance, keep peace inside my head. The outside will calm down. But our inner calm, once shaken, takes much longer to settle down. For my sanity's sake I must fight to keep things on an even keel so that tomorrow, the world will look better.

The Elephant in the Room

I looked through all my older posts and realized: every time there has been significant emotional change in my life, I shy away from talking about it. Why? How can I change it? Should I change it?

What would Booth do?

Retired!!

I am now retired. Seems only yesterday that I started the 50 mile daily trek to Snoqualmie, to make a living. But that was six years ago. Feels a little strange not to wake up at 5 and make a dash for the door, before the rest of the house wakes up. Even the dog :-)

What does not feel strange is lack of a commute. Snowbound, rainslick, windswept, parking lot, I have seen all the faces of eastbound Washington traffic. But I have never seen the smiling faces of my boys as they wake up. Which is why I am loving the luxury of having breakfast together. The joy of some quiet time to think. Plan what I want to do next. Life has been bountiful and I am grateful. I hope I always stay humble and grateful.

Graduates

It's that time of the year again. As the leaves turn green and roses in my garden perfume the evening air, I prepare to say goodbye to another set of graduates leaving high school for the greener pastures of college.

More choice, classes that they WANT to be in rather than HAVE to be in (mostly), better parties and by far the most important, greater independence. I think about the places they will go and the people they will meet and I wonder: have I left any impression on their minds? Will they take anything from my classes for the rest of their lives?

Since this blog is one of the multitudes out there and no one really knows I'm writing it, I guess I'll never know. But I hope they will. I hope I will see them again as the years pass. And I hope if they speak of me, they will speak well of me.

Amanda's adventure

Every morning at around seven, I let the dog out into the backyard to do what she needs to do. Every morning, I clean up after her.

This morning, as I made sure the grass is clean and good for the kids to play in, Amanda slinked out from under the gate. After I was done, I called out for her to come in. When there was no sound of the patter of tiny paws I got a little testy and wished she would hurry up. She likes to take time to explore and I was in a hurry. I called a few more times then figured she must have gone inside ahead of me. I went back in indoors and called just to check. There was no answer. Now I was a little worried.

Soon, I was calling for Amanda in the house, not caring that I'll wake up my sleeping children and husband. When I knew she was not in the house, I panicked, woke up my husband and started a real search. Took the car out and drove up and down the street. Imagine my relief when I see her walking as happy as you please a block up the hill from the house.

I picked her up and we drove home. Once inside, I used my loud voice to let her know that what she had done was not good. Mommy was not happy with her little Amanda girl. And now, three hours later I miss my little girl. Can't wait to go home and scoop her up in my arms. All's well that ends well.

U2, WE TOO!!!

Saturday, June 4th 2011. What an unforgettable experience! Hubby and I went to Quest Field to watch and listen to U2. Bono is such a consummate entertainer and had I not gone to this concert, I would have never known!

I have known about and supported most of his causes. But I did not expect him to be so cool and funny. I guess I expected more arrogance from an established rockstar but Bono was just mesmerizing to watch!

Funny side story: Last year, when our friend Tom posted on facebook that his U2 tickets were up for grabs, I immediately jumped at the chance. Then Bono broke his back and the concert was postponed. I didn't stay updated and had no idea that it was still on. When Candi, Tom's wife, emailed a reminder I was surprised and ecstatic. But the weird part was, Parvez didn't want me to buy those tickets! Then very unwillingly, he told me that he too, had bought tickets and that it was meant to be a surprise for me ...:-) what a sweetheart! My heart did a little jig as I looked at my sweetie who would stand for four hours at a rock concert even with a hurt foot. I'm a very lucky gal.

Photos of Amanda

Amanda

On Friday two weeks ago, my husband and I visited the Seattle Humane Society and came home with Amanda. She is a terrier mix and a bundle of energetic love! At ten years, Amanda is a middle aged lady with a strong mind and strong maternal instincts. Shy at first, she has increasingly grown more and more vocal in her protection of her new home. Neighbors are criticised in no uncertain terms for walking on our side of the sidewalk. The rest of the family though, has been smiling more, at her antics and at ourselves for going gaga over our furry new girl. Amanda is her perfect name for she brings joy to all who meet her.

As we go for our afternoon walk/run, I tell her my day and she scolds me for leaving her alone. Feels so good to come home and have her jump all over me, telling me " I love you, I missed you, now can we PLEASE get out of the house?"

Radiation fears

Now comes the second part of the story. After a few hours, news of the blast in the nuclear reactors filtered into the US. As our local and national channels broadcast updates, I looked up how far the reactors were from Tokyo. Then I skyped my brother to see if he was thinking of moving. He told me not to worry, as it was just the shells breaking, the reactors were fine. Although worried, I felt my brother and his wife were in the best position to know what to do. In the days that followed, I had nightly conversations with my mother, both of us agreeing that my brother should move, yet dreading asking him what he thought of that option, because both my mother and I knew what his answer would be.

It was a great relief when I heard his office was moving him temporarily to Osaka. Even better to find out that they were going to Singapore for a while.

It has now been six weeks since it all started. My brother and his wife are back in Tokyo, to their daily grind. I still worry because the radiation levels keep rising from what one hears in the news. I keep telling myself not to believe everything I see or read in the internet or TV but it is hard to be objective and rational when one's own is in danger.

It is still hard to believe that Tokyo, that great machine and success story of modern technology is living through a crisis it is ill-equipped to handle. No one seems to have a handle on the reactor situation. Maybe there isn't an immediate fix. But let's hope that things will improve in six months. I never want to relive the anxiety, the fear and the constant worry of not knowing and not being able to help in any meaningful way.

My Tokyo Earthquake post

This post is over a month belated. The Tokyo earthquake of March 14, 2011 destroyed thousands of lives and the tsunami redrew the coastline, killing thousands more. The resultant damages to nuclear reactors created a radiation hazard that continue to plague the lives of people in northeastern Honshu.

Not many people in my immediate circle know that my brother, my only sibling, lives in Tokyo. We have rarely spoken to each other. There have been times we've been estranged and the physical distance, the stress of modern living, jobs exacerbated the gulf between us. But the news of the earthquake was troubling. I remember telling myself that if any country in the world is equipped to handle an earthquake, it is Japan. Then I tried calling my brother and sister-in-law's cell phones. No connection.

I kept calling, while telling myself that things are fine. But it was getting harder to keep the tears at bay. My morning classes started, and I still had no word. I could not reach any number in Japan, in any area. After two hours of non-stop dialling, my tears were falling pretty fast. I did not care that my students saw me in this vulnerable state. I was doing exactly what I try not do in a crisis: panic.

I called my parents in India, to see if they had heard anything. All they could tell me was that they had spoken to my sister-in-law while she was still in her office, but that the phone had disconnected during their conversation. Hearing this made my fear the worst.

It was my husband who was finally able to make contact through Skype, to find out that everyone was safe. My sister-in-law walked home. There was a food shortage brewing as people were stockpiling food. But other than that, things were normal. Heaving a sigh of relief, I went back to my usual day.

Success!!

Super successful auction!! After six months of sleepless nights, constant planing, countless phone calls coaxing donors, the verdict is in: the auction raised $120K for the school this year.

Not an all-time high, but definitely a record in recent years, given the dump the economy's in. Feel good about selling a classroom art piece for $4000. That's some serious marketing.

Also happy about the dining frenzy going viral in the live room. People buying $50 restaurant certificates for three times the price....seriously?!! WTF guys? Annnyway, this auction chair is not complaining...show up all your neighbors and tablemates, be the first one to raise that paddle and keep it up the whole night ;-)

Time to move on to the next event, AP exams in May!!