November 28, 2005

Taiwan. . . finally.


Denise and I (in Hong Kong)
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.



I can't believe it's been so long since I blogged. In late August, I finally went to Taiwan!!! Denise was my best friend in elementary school. I still remember the day in second grade when the new Chinese girl arrived to our class. She lived down the street. We were in Girl Scouts together. I was always at her house-- eating the food, listening to the language, and fighting with her cousin. In eighth grade, she spent the year there. So we wrote each other letters. That was the time in the 80's when my dad was doing a lot of business in Taiwan. So I've always wanted to go, my whole life. And I finally went.

I absolutely loved it. Denise has a ton of cousins and aunts and uncles and her grandma. They were all super-nice and adopted me. They said I should move there. . . .I'm considering it.

I also started picking up some Chinese and figuring out some of the basic characters. Denise thinks Chinese is easier than Arabic and that if I stayed there I'd be able to pick it up.

Then there's this fantasy I have of becoming a ninja. This isn't new for most of you. Well, I was thinking about that, too. If I moved there, could I do some serious training . . .but then I realized it would all be in Chinese, and that would be slightly complicated.

The pictures of Taiwan are at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum35.html. And I have a separate album just for food at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum38.html. For some reason, I take a lot of pictures of food.

At a Buddhist Temple


At a Buddhist Temple
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

A white girl in Asia


"Blackie" Toothpate
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.



September 1, 2005 was the first day that did not see another white person. In fact, I didn't see another non-Chinese person. I knew it would happen. Previous days I would be disappointed because that one random white person would show up. But this day I went to the gym, to a supermarket, and out with Denise's family, and I didn't see another white person.

People here don't stare. They kind of don't even look twice. At the gym, we went to this famous guy's dance class, and when he saw me, he made a big deal about the "white person" and then started talking to me in English and asking me questions. He was being funny and showing off.

A couple times I thought I saw white people, but then I'd look again and realize they were Chinese. When you're over here, you see the great range of Asian people. Like in the U.S., or Lebanon, or anywhere else, you have stylish people and nerdy people and sporty people and teenage-punk people and ugly people and pretty people and skinny people and yes, even fat people. In fact, they are of all sizes and shapes and styles. Yes, I am just stating the obvious. But really, having grown up outside of Asia, my whole perspective on Asians has been perverted. I, like many of you (who also didn't grow up in Asia), have many fixed stereotypes/images/what-have-you of Asian people. Like they're all quite and dorky and good with technology and probably play music and tennis and they all kind of look the same. When I started confusing Asian people for white people because maybe they had some sort of style or something non-typically Asian (what some might consider just normal American features), I realized how perverted my thinking is.

And also, the guys are hot! Seriously. Being one of those typical non-Asian people, I never really considered Asian guys too attractive. But in Taiwan, there are so many hot guys. And I was also surprised by how tall people were. Maybe because I've been living outside the U.S. (where everyone has been fed too well and is too tall. . .and fat), I thought that the Taiwanese were actually the same height as other people, and not all short. (This surprised me.)

So it all made me realize how warped people's personalities become when they are racial minorities in a place where people hate their race. MLK, Jr. describes this in his speeches. So does James Baldwin and a lot of other African-American writers, but it's a very similar thing with Asians, which isn't as voiced or acknowledged.

Here in Asia, it seemed about half the advertisements and magazine covers were Asian women; the other half were white.

What is socially acceptable in Taiwan concerning blackness and dark skin was kind of shocking to my American sensibilities. They sell blackie toothpaste because it seems that black people have whiter teeth. See "the blackie" with the fro on the toothpaste bottle. (For a more sophisticated discussion of Darlie Toothpaste, go to www.sepiamutiny.com/sepia/archives/002689.html. And then there's "More White, More Beautiful". There are a range of beauty products to lighten one's skin, by all the standard international companies, L'Oreal, Nivea, etc. . . .They even make whitening deodorant??? You can see the pictures at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum40.html. And then I saw a disturbing advertisement to help world hunger with the stereotypical poor African women, breastfeeding her starving baby. It was pretty graphic.

Here in Lebanon, my favorite candy is a big chocolate-covered marshmallow, known as Ras al-Abd, "the Head of the Slave." Even in this day and age, people use the word "Abd" in Arabic to refer to black people. There is actually a newer term, which I use, called Tarboush, the red, fez, Ottoman-style hat. But when I use that word, the local shop owners don't know what I'm talking about.

Dubai


Bourj al Arab
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Dubai is a monstosity. I hated it. Now most Lebanese people are surprised when I say this. They're like, "It's nice. . ." But really they all hate it, too. But they have to say it's nice because they all have some relative over there or maybe they, themselves, will have to go there to make money. But it's horrible and ugly and no one would chose to live there. They just go because that's where the money is, so it's nice.

I hopped on the bus tour and got to see a million malls and five star hotels. I got to see Bourj Dubai in its construction phase. Currently, Taipei 101 (which I had just seen) is the tallest building in the world at 500 m. In two years, it will be Bourj Dubai at 950 m, and they're making it so they can extend it, if need be.

They have a mall with an indoor ski slope. They're building a hotel--underwater. And the real estate is just going like hot cakes to people from all over the world who are investing like crazy. The whole place is under construction. People are coming all the time.

I saw the headquarters of CNN, Showtime, ESPN, and all the media centers. Prime Minister Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid Al-Maktoum has done an amazing job of attracting businesses and foreign investment through smart regulations and laws.

But it was hot as hell. I could see the sand just floating, just sitting in the air. No one goes outside. It gets to about 40 degrees in the summer. (I have no idea what that is in Fahrenheit.) And they have really nice malls.

It was pretty disgusting and scary, and I couldn't figure out why anyone would go there for their vacation. If you have to go there for work, that's one thing--but on holiday??? Why? . . .They say because the shopping is good.

I didn't take out my camera very much. It was my first time in the Gulf, and it was almost exactly as I had pictured it. Just like Houston but hotter, and the people were those sterotypical Arab clothes. The pictures are at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum34.html.

Hong Kong


Soo Jung and I
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.



This is from Chris's e-mail on what to do in Hong Kong. We didn't do 7, 8, and 9.

1) Take star ferry to Kowloon. Actually best at night
2) Hike up to victoria peak (and take the tram back down)
3) Seafood on either lamma or lantau island
4) Take double-decker bus to Stanley market. Sit at the first seat on the upper deck
5) Dimsum at City Hall. Location is near the Star Ferry in Cental near the ocean.
6) Get drunk at lam kuai fung. Really doesn't matter where.
7) Take tram to happy valley to go horseracing.
8) If you can, take a junk trip with some other friends. Go swimming in the filthy water
9) Go to karoake at least one night at any of the trendy places.
10) Get at least one foot massage. In fact get lots
11) For good chasiu food and the duck you asked about, go to the place whose name I forgot. It is on wellington street on the first right when you are walking up the hill to go to lamkuaifung form Queen's road central. I know I will remember the name. AHHHH. Yongkei!!!! That's it.

You can see the photos at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum36.html. And you can see random street scenes and signs at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum37.html.

Bangkok


Me and the Reclining Buddha
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.



Bangkok was absolutley beautiful. My flight landed at about 10 in the morning, and my next flight was past midnight. So I had the whole day to run around the city. Not only did I stuff my face with real Thai food (which actually happened to be a lot like the Taiwanese food I had been eating for the past week), but I went to some amazing palaces and temples, did a little canal tour, and went to a Thai kickboxing match. I was standing in the cheapest section with all the Thai men yelling their bets. It started around 6, and lasts way into the night. I really, however, wasn't impressed by the fighting skills. I figured they put the amateurs on first, and I didn't get to stick around long enough to see the good stuff. I recorded a little video. You can see it and the pictures at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum39.html.

After the kickboxing match, I went to a night market, and did some serious shopping. I had to buy extra bags to check on the plane. Of course, that wasn't hard to find. Everyone told me the shopping in Bangkok is no joke. I only wish I had taken out more money. I bought an amazing blouse/skirt fancy outfit, with a matching turqoise purse, a bunch of bags, candles, incense, and jewelry. It was all beautiful and cheap. . . And of course, I stuffed my face with fried tofu, cooked and jellied fruits, and some sesame things they were selling on the street. Somehow I didn't find the mango sticky rice that everyone told me to get.

The place is very tourist friendly. There are beaches, which of course I didn't get to. And it's cheap (well, after you've bought the ticket). I highly recommend it.

August 10, 2005

Palestine--Almost There and Back

I decided to go to Palestine. I e-mailed a bunch of people and told them to pray for me--that I wouldn't have visa problems. But more importantly, to feel like I wasn't going alone--that my friends would be with me in their prayers as I finally made my spiritual pilgrimage. As most of you know . . . why am I here in the Middle East? Why do I study Arabic? Because I've always wanted to be in the place where Jesus lived and walked.

I told everyone not to tell my mom. So I didn't tell my family. I knew she would freak out. I decided she could hear about it all when I got back. But it bothered me. I don't lie to my mom. I did once when I was little. I remember the whole incident. And I honestly don't think I ever did it again.

And then it would require lying at the border. I was going to work with a Palestinian refugee camp, but of course I would have to NOT say that to the Israeli soldiers. Instead, I would just be a clueless American, Christian pilgrim.

So what made me think I could actually go, considering I don't have a second passport? Well, I called the U.S. embassy in Amman from Beirut. I explained to the woman that I don't have a second passport and that I have Lebanese residence and a job here. She told me to check in to the embassy and that they would give me the piece of paper for the Israelis to stamp. She said this was normal procedure and happens all the time and there shouldn't be a problem. So with that conversation, I felt I had the green light.

I prayed about it, and felt fine. And seven hours later, I was in Amman. By the time I got to the U.S. embassy to check in and get the piece of paper, the office was closed. It was 1 in the afternoon. I'd have to come back at 9 the next morning. I was pissed. I didn't know anyone in Amman, and I'd have to stay in a budget hotel by myself.

So as I was bumbing around Amman, I met a Jordanian/Palestinian girl (more than half of the Jordanians are Palestinians.) She showed me around and had me spend the night at her house. She was so excited that I was interested in Islam, of course, trying to convert me the whole time. She took me to a clothes shop where they gave me a long black cloack and a headscarf. (See the picture below.) I walked around the rest of the day looking like a Jordanian. . . .How did this happen!?!?

And then she gave me a bunch of reading materials about how to pray, and about God.

Her neighbor asked if I would be going to Gaza because her daughter is there. She hasn't seen her in 5 years. I thought Jordanians could go to Israel because they are officially at peace. (Unlike Lebanon, Syria, and other Arab countries--which is why I CAN'T have an Israeli stamp in my passport.) But Jordanian-Palestinians have to get a visa, and Israel isn't giving them out. So many Palestinians can't visit their relatives.

And then it just hit me. I'll say it was the Holy Spirit. Many of my friends e-mailed me back saying that they would pray that the Holy Spirit would guide me, and that's what happened. I just said, "No. Khalas. I can't do this."

I thought I could straddle the fence and pretend that I'm just a Christian pilgrim. But I'm not. Not that I want to pick sides. But doesn't God? Doesn't he always pick the side of the oppressed? I'm not Arab. But somehow I'm identifying more and more.

Israel isn't for me. At least not now. I can't pretend to be a clueless, American Christian pilgrim. I had all this Muslim, Arabic stuff in my bag. I had left all that stuff at home because I figured the Israeli soldiers would search me during the hours-long interrogation when I tell them I don't want them to stamp my passport. But I inevitably picked up the stuff along the way.

It was like being on Mt. Nebo all over again. I was an hour from the bridge. And I couldn't go. I have a blue passport. Of course, I'm not a Palestinian living in Jordan or Lebanon. I'm not my Lebanese Christian friends who want to make the pilgrimage. But yet, I felt like I couldn't go. I was so close, but I couldn't enter.


I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing.

August 8, 2005

New Thoughts on Coverage


Dressed as a Jordanian
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


When I walked around Amman covered, it was a totally different experience than when I was walking around in my regular clothes. I wasn't even wearing my regular, Lebanese clothes. I was wearing loose pants and a long-sleeved, light cotton blouse. And yet, I did feel so much more free walking around when I had the headscarf and cloak covering me. The men didn't all stop to look. In a way, I felt almost invisible, which was a cool feeling. None of this, "I would like to kiss you" crap being yelled at me.

If I lived in Jordan, I would definately dress like this. Eventhough I think it would be considered weird, since I'm not Muslim.

July 31, 2005

4 capitals in 5 days

Christine was here for two and a half weeks. We went to Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. Having now gone to three other Middle Eastern countries, I now KNOW that the cars in Lebanon truly are the crappiest. It actually makes no sense. Never have I been anywhere where the cars (I guess I'm talking mostly about the taxis) are so crappy. Sometimes when a service pulls up, I say to myself, I can't get into that, it won't make it up the mountain. In all the other countries, there are taxis that look like taxis, and they don't look like they have to be duct taped together. But as I've mentioned before, over 70% of the cars in Lebanon are over 20 years old. The whole thing is just scary.

What else?? Bed bugs. . . They exist. When you stay at really cheap hotels recommended by The Lonely Planet, (like $8-$12 a night for 2 people) you start scratching almost immediately after lying down. We brought towels and soap and had to buy toilet paper. But fortunately I also brought a sheet--my experience in 2-star hotels in India taught me something--and Ultrathon. Ultrathon is the bomb. It's the best insect repellant on the market. You get it in the camping section in Walmart. My mom is sending me some.

The Dead Sea is really salty. It HURTS when it gets in your eyes. And it's so buoyant, you can't keep your legs down. You just sort of sit there in the water.

And the men. I heard all these horror stories about Egyptian guys--groping, following you, etc. We really didn't have any problems. I guess I've learned now how to deal with them: ignore them. This advice goes for just about everything--people who want you to buy their stuff, kids begging on the street. Just keep on walking. (Actually, one time I saw a fully covered Muslim woman YELL at this little kid in Bombay. . .That kid ran away so fast. Who would have thought???)

But one early morning around 6 A.M. in Damascas, as we were going over a bridge to get to the bus station, a guy saw that we were by ourselves and with no one else around, and climbed up the other side of the bridge, and had his penis hanging out of his pants as he walked by us. I actually didn't see it. I noticed that his hand was down there, but I just looked away. Christine was a little behind me, and when I turned around, she looked kind of pale. I asked, "Was that guy vulgar?" And she was like, "You didn't see that?" Nope. I thought I was going to have to deal with Christine trauma for the next couple hours. But she got over it pretty quick.

To read Christine's Musings on Being in the Middle East, Greatest Hits, and travel tips, go to her blog at cfolch.blogspirit.com/.

To see the pictures of Syria, go to www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum31.html.

For Petra, go to www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum33.html.

For the rest of Jordan, including the Holy Land sites, Jerash, and Amman, go to www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum32.html.

The pictures from Egypt are at www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum29.html.

July 30, 2005

Coverage


In Damascas
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


On a Nile cruise in Egypt, the contrast was startling. A very scantily clad Oriental dancer, what we in the West call a belly dancer, was basically wearing a bikini and fringe, while there were about 5 women with their heads covered and one completely covered in that black cloak that women in Saudi and the Gulf wear.

It reminded me of all that Latina literature and theory I studied in college, where it talked about women fitting into two categories: the Virgin Mary or the prostitute Mary Magdalene. Basically, if a girl/women doesn't stay at home and remain perfectly virginal, she's a slut. There is no "normal" woman. A guy can do whatever he wants. But women have to be perfect virgins. . . or else . . .

Since it was a dinner cruise, Christine and I were very curious about the women in black. How was she going to eat with that thing covering her whole face?. . .Or does she even get to eat in public? So as I was pretending to watch the band, I observed her attach a different black thing to her headscarf, kind of making a big tent. She then removed the part that was over her mouth and put her fork under the tent so she could eat. . . All the time making sure that no one could see her face.

In Jordan, it seemed that 90% of the women were covered. In Egypt, I would guesstimate 70%. In Lebanon, it may be about 30-40%, but really it depends on the region. Where I live in Aley, there are very few Muslims who cover.

In my college classes, we read all about the covering topic. How in many places the women chose to do this because they think it is part of serving and obeying God. In some places, it gives them freedom from harassment when they are in public, especially in crowded places like buses.

They say Western women are more "enslaved" by unrealistic body image standards and pressures to make them have to look sexy to gain the favor of men so they can get ahead in the world. . . And they are so right. I'd rather be covered, than have all my skin showing.

So I've never really thought that Muslims were backwards or anything because many of their women cover. Culturally, I do think it's more empowering and respectful of women.

But in Jordan, the whole thing started bothering me. It's really, really, really hot there. And unlike the Gulf or Houston, people are walking around outside. They don't confine themselves to their AC vehicle or AC shopping malls or offices. It was just so hot, and having one's head and neck covered, with a long cloak over pants seemed beyond unbearable to me.

But what really got me was seeing what the men wear. In Jordan it's some of them. But in Saudi and the Gulf, I think it's more common for the men to wear long, white, even transparent dresses. There's no belt. They're totally loose. They're modest in the sense that no skin shows or body outlines, and they are completely cool. It's the perfect thing to wear in hot weather, especially with the checkered cloth they have on their heads (which is not wrapped around their necks and ears). It just conveniently keeps the sun off the top of their head and the back of their neck.

How evil and disgusting is that! I was really, really sickened. The men go around in these cool white dresses with their Adidas soccer shorts underneath (which I could see) and the women have to wear long black cloaks over some pants or jeans outfit or have a scarf completely wrapped around their head, ears, and neck.

The whole double-standard really pissed me off. Not that the Arab world or Muslims are the only people to have double standards. It exists everywhere. But still, I wanted to yack. Culture shock sometimes slaps you in the face. It's hard work trying to understand where people are coming from and the good reasons for why people do what they do. This is just another example.

A Palestinian Refugee Camp


Bourj al-Bourajni
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


This is a Palestinian refugee camp, one of four in Beirut. Lebanon has 16. Palestinians are only officially allowed to work at 7 occupations, which are mostly menial labor jobs. They cannot own any property. Their schools and hospitals are run by UNRWA. They have about 60 kids in a class, and one doctor for about 20, 000 people.

Of course, teaching in a place like this is hell. What incentives do the children have to study, work hard in school, and graduate? They can't legally work in any profession. Yet there are some who do go on to colleges to get degrees that they can't really use in Lebanon--except, of course, to serve their own community.

Lebanon does not want to give the Palestinians any rights because they think that would be letting Israel off the hook. . . Where's the logic here? So they do evil in response to Israel's evil. (Compare to Jesus's/MLK's turn-the-other-cheek method.)

In this picture, you can see the crazy electrical wires that are everywhere. People getting electrocuted is a big problem. This is one of the widest pathways in the camp. The rest are not wide enough for two people to pass side by side. Thousands of people live cramped in a one-mile squared space.

The Palestinians get screwed on all sides. No one lets them have land or citizenship or even basic human rights.

It's easy to hate Israel. But when you come here, it becomes really easy to hate Lebanon, Jordan, and the rest of the Arab World who have done nothing to help the people whose cause they seem to champion so vehemently.

You can come here and serve. I met a lot of people (actually all white women) who are volunteering their services over the summer--doing occupational therapy, social work, nursing, teaching creativity classes with the kids, doing aerobics and fitness classes. Come one, come all! I can put you in touch with the people who run these things. I was going to volunteer. But I decided that right now studying Arabic is a better investment of my time.

Beirut


The Corniche
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


This is the Corniche. It's lovely. You see why I cried when Hariri died. Some people wanted to remind me how he was corrupt and dirty and a mafioso like all the other dirty politicians. I know, and yet, Beirut is lovely. And it's really a shame that people are scared and aren't coming.

So here's a dumb thing I did:

I was going to the eye doctor yesterday, and I wasn't exactly sure what bus to get on. So I hopped on one and asked the guys if it was going to "Dora." And they were like "No." So I just hopped off--after the bus was already moving!!! And I was wearing a skirt and girly shoes!! But not only is that retarded. There were these guys on the street watching me as I almost died, jumping off the moving bus. And then I was like, "Which is the bus to Dora?" (in Arabic, of course.) And they said I had to take the bus that I just jumped off of. So I felt kind of dumb.

It was Friday after work, and that bus goes through all Christian neighborhoods. I actually felt kind of nervous. All of these bombings have been happening in Christian neighborhoods and on the weekends.

Oh well, that's Lebanon. But it's still lovely. And people should still come. Everybody loves it here.

July 17, 2005

Egypt


Giza
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


This was the highlight of the two weeks. Being on a camel under the hot sun facing the desert was more than overwhelming. It's kind of like the ocean--huge and endless. Being in it is almost frightening. You feel how little you are, and how big the universe is. It would be so easy to get lost. In the middle of nowhere, under the hot sun.

It made me realize why the Arab/Bedouin culture is so different. Who can live like this? Who can live here? What kind of a person does it make you? To see the same everywhere and have it interrupted by the occasional oasis.

In Giza, you just look behind you and see Cairo. But our tour guide said he could take us all the way to Libya. . .
What a nightmare!

To see the rest of the pictures from Egypt (before I left my purse in the taxi and lost my digital camera and about 70 pictures), go to www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum29.html.

The Holy Land


Baptism in the Jordan River
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


So I finally went. But not to Palestine, to Jordan. We went to the Jordan river. See Christine babtizing me. I got to be Jesus. She was John the Baptist.

You can see where the height of the water used to be. It's very little now. Part of the reason is that Israel has diverted it for itself. (Israel likes to take other people's water--see "Khiam".)

I could look over into Palestine. There was a Jordanian soldier there and all along the river were wires that the South Carolina, just-finished-a-year-stint-doing-security-in-Iraq, dude told us were military communications stuff.

The other place where I got to look over to Palestine was from Mt. Nebo. This is where Moses got to see the Promised Land. He couldn't go in, though, because he disobeyed God. He's buried somewhere on that mountain. It was really, really "moving" "deep" (why can't I make this sound not trite?). It was just too symbolic. If I were Lebanese or Syrian, this would be the closest I could get to the Holy Land. I kept thinking of all the Christians and Muslims I know who can't go to Israel. And here I am standing as close as they'll get--the site of Moses's punishment.

Of course, I'm not punished, though, I have the blue passport. It's let's me get into anywhere. (Except for Saudi Arabia, but I'll try to work on that.) We couldn't see Jerusalem. It was too cloudy. Apparently at night, you can see the lights.

For pictures of Jordan, including the amazing city of Petra, (think Indiana Jones), go to

To see the pictures from Jordan, go to www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum32.html.

Walid Beik and the "Tribalism" of Lebanese Politics


Walid Beik and I
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


This is a picture of me and Walid Jumblatt. This picture is a BIG DEAL!!! For all you non-Lebanese, you might need an explanation as to who this guy is. He is the leader of the Progressive Socialist Party. He is one of the leading politicians in the opposition against Syria. He has been one of the most important Arab politicians since his father, Kemal Jumblatt, was assassinated by the Syrians in 1974. But most importantly, he is the Druze tribal chief.

When I say tribe, I mean "sects" or as some put it, "religion." Politics is very tribal here. Maybe there was some movement beyond sectarianism in the last election, but I don't think so. The Christians are just as tribal as the Druze, even more so. Some of my Christian friends HATE Walid Jumblatt, because he was a war lord and a criminal. He ordered the destruction of many Christian towns on the mountain. But at the same time, these people are like, "Haram, Samir Geagea." Poor, Geagea, the Christian psychopath who bombed a church to try to frame Muslims. He's still in prison; all the other warlords are out. So that's not fair, they say. Actually, the new government has issued an amnesty, and he'll be out of prison by the end of the week. I have a great view of the fireworks from my apartment.

People in my neighborhood adore Walid Beik. When I showed the picture to the security guard at school, he said "We have been fighting with him for more than 20 years, and never do we have such a picture. You are here for only 9 months. . ." . . . Another reason to feel guilty about my American privilege???

One of my Druze friends started yelling and punching me when she saw it; it was her automatic reaction. And of course I blew it up to bring to school to show the kids.

On Sundays, Jumblatt opens his mansions in Mukhtara to the public. Anyone can come. I came with a group of Americans, but most of the people were there were Druze. Some came to discuss issues of the community, some for personal favors, and some just to be up close and personal with their hero. Here, he is the tribal chief. They call him "Walid Beik," which comes from the Turkish word, "bey," a regional governor in the Ottoman empire.

So what's he like?? He was very jittery; he couldn't stop shaking his leg. It was two weeks before the election, and he obviously didn't have any time. (So it was cool that he made time for us) He's super intellectual and had a long-term view of everything. He criticized every politician.

Here's an excerpt from an October 2004 BBC article.
"Walid Jumblatt, a Druze leader and leading member of the opposition . . . warned that 'the decision to extend Mr Lahoud's term is a matter that will throw the country into a cycle of violence'". That's very prophetic. The extention of President Lahoud's term led Hariri to resign from the government and was the beginning of the cycle of assassinations in Lebanon.

After the formal questions, Walid Beik took us into his private library. He had a lot of books about planes and guns and such. He said in an off-hand, sarcastic sort of way, "I graduated from AUB, and then had to become a warlord." He didn't have a choice. They killed his dad. He had to take over.

When I first saw him on TV, I was like, "That's Smithers from the Simpson's." He looks better in real life. Like a human, not a cartoon.

I know I diss Lebanon a lot in my blog. And I realized as I was reading over what I've written that I've picked up too many Tom Friedman-ism's. The whole "tribalism" of Arab politics. For me to say that, I need to talk about the tribalism or racialism of the U.S. Religion is to Lebanon what race is to the U.S. Both countries have made some strides out of their ugly pasts. There are always some notable examples. But people are still primitive. As Marx says, "Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like an Alp on the brains of the living. . . "

I can criticize Lebanon and maybe the Arab World for its "tribalism", but the U.S. is just as primitive. I mean we do have a president who wants to replace one of two female Supreme Court justices with a white male. Where is the progress there? But at the same time, I saw the news in Lebanon when Condoleeza Rice made her surprise visit. And the image on the TV almost paralyzed me--all the light-skinned, Lebanese men in their fancy designer suits with the one black woman. And they all had to kiss her ass. It was one of those rare moments in my life where I really felt proud to be an American.

But progress is slow on all fronts. It will be a long time before the politics in Lebanon moves past religious sectarianism.

Khiam


Foda-Se Israel
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


I took a field trip to the South with a Lebanese friend and a Harvard Ph.D. student from Thailand. I was dumb and forgot to bring my passport. I forgot that the "South" is still like another country, heavily militarized, even though Israel officially pulled out in the year 2000. It was okay though because my Lebanese friend is a smooth talker. Apparently, her uncle-relation is a judge in the region. Whether it's true or not, that's called wasta. It's how things get done in Lebanon.

May 25th is a national holiday called Liberation Day. It was the day Hizbollah succeeded in kicking out Israel. Israel rolled into Lebanon in 1982, at the height of the civil war. That same year, they surrounded and closed off the Sabra and Shatila Palestinian refugee camps in Beirut, while the Christian Phalangist militias ran wild, massacring thousands of innocent people over the course of three days. There's a picture of Ariel Sharon watching the carnage. (Israelis took to the streets in protest against their own government and Sharon when it all came to light.)

So the Israelis set up an occupation zone in southern Lebanon. They say it was to prevent terrorists (Hizbollah and the like) from shooting bombs into northern Israel. Many say it's to get access to the water. They set up a prison called Khiam. In May 2000, the Lebanese were glued to their televisions as they saw people storm the prison to release the 140 people still in there. It's a museum today, run by Hizbollah. I got to see the cells and torture chambers and electrical torture instruments and wooden beams they strung people on. It's really unfathomable that this was happening in the year 2000. And who was in there, being imprisoned and tortured??? Not condemned criminals. There were no trials for these guys. Yes, guys, mostly boys, Shia who lived in the region who were part of Hizbollah or somehow connected or just could potentially be connected (which is everyone who lives there.)

All the walls are covered in grafitti, mostly in Arabic. But in this picture, I saw something I understood. It says "Go f-- yourself, Israel" and "God is just" in Portuguese.

To see pictures of Khiam Detention Camp and the neighboring Beaufort Castle, go to www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum30.html.

Explosions and such


At the protest
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


So you might have noticed I haven't blogged at all since Hariri's assassination. I was kind of too overwhelmed by the whole thing. Some of you were e-mailing me, asking how I was. And I know a lot of you are news junkies and read all the analysis anyways. So in a way, I felt like I had nothing to contribute. I was reading all the analysis too, and just getting overwhelmed.

I have cried--twice--over Hariri. About three years ago, downtown was nothing. Still destroyed from the war. But now it's beautiful. Great stone, European-style buildings with outdoor restaurants where people smoke argila and drink coffee. Little kids run around the Place d'Etoile (chased by their Sri Lankan and Phillipino workers--the trafficing in women from Asia can be another blog.)

I know people who got scholarship money from him. If you want to go to a top end school in Lebanon, you have to have money. The government doesn't give financial aid. Hariri gave a LOT of scholarship money. And these friends are Druze. He wasn't keeping it to his sect--the Sunni Muslims.

A couple days ago was the fifth explosion, and apparently the biggest. How does this affect me? Aley is dead. There are supposed to be tons of people here in the summer. All my friends who work in the souk are very depressed.

But I don't let it stop me from anything. It has all been in Christian areas. Driving home the other night through Ashrafiyeh, a Christian area, there were military checkpoints. But this is normal now, everywhere.

One night, the phone cut off when I was talking to Christine. I then heard a loud noise. I said Christine, "Check on line. I think there was another big explosion." I was in my apartment in Aley, 17 km. up the mountain from Beirut. I heard Hariri's, too. It was during the lunch break at school. I was talking to some of my students and we heard it. "What was that?" I asked. They said, "Oh, that's just Israel flying their planes really low making that explosion noise." Of course, Israel always does that, just to be obnoxious.

How else did this affect me? We missed a lot of school days for protests and national strikes called by the opposition. Then we had to make up 4 Saturdays, which was one of the most horrible things I've ever had to experience.

Oh, and who's doing it? Here in Aley, if there's wrong weather, it's Syria's fault. During the war, the Syrian soldiers would just occupy people's houses and they took or destroyed all the stuff when they left.

But why would Syria do it? To bring the world's condemnation on them. I say it's the Americans or the Israelis. The U.S. needs more of a justification to be where it shouldn't. Iraq stuff spills over into Syria. Israel would like to have a weaker Syria, since it's a regional power that tries to keep Israel in check.

I guess some are concerned about bombs. But y'all shouldn't be. All you brave souls should come visit me anyways.

This always makes me laugh

A funny text message going around Lebanon. . .

You cry. I cry. You smile. I smile. You jump out the window. I look down and say "Oh my Cod!"

Oh my Cod!!!!! I just love that.

I say it all the time now.

February 8, 2005

Language stuff


Ma ba3rif
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


So the other day I was talking in Arabic to the maintenance guy in front of my 7th graders. Afterwards one of them said, "Miss, you speak like an Egyptian trying to talk Lebanese."

I studied Arabic for one year at Harvard ten years ago. I learned the formal written language, fusHa, with some Egyptian colloquial. The rationale being that most of the media in the Arab world comes out of Cairo. Then about five years after that, I took private lessons with an Egyptian woman in her home. It was about two times a week off and on for about two years. I would go after a long day of teaching high school, and would generally fall asleep as she talked to me too fast in Arabic. I wasn't understanding, and it was too much for my tired brain.

I always thought she was so mean because she would make this "tsk" noise when I got something wrong. Now that I'm here in Lebanon, I realize this is how people say "No." Apparently, they do the same thing in Greece.

Much of the language is body langugage. Not only do you have "tsk," with the chin pointing up to mean "No." You have a slight head rattle from side to side to signify "What? I didn't get you." That can also be accompanied by a twist of an open hand at around chin level. Then there's the big pout meaning "I don't know." I show both at the same time in this lovely picture. Okay, maybe the Lebanese don't do it as exaggerated as I do here.

To say "I want" and "I need" is the same word. (I think there's a profound spiritual significance to this.) To say "I like" and "I love" is the same word. It's like that in French, too.

There are a million terms of affection--Habibee (my beloved), Albee (my heart), Hayatee (my life), Omree (my age). These are used between lovers, friends, and shop owners and customers. So it doesn't really mean anything, unless you want it to.

And then there's "Haram." For those who have studied Islam, you might recognize Haram as prohibited, the opposite of Halal, permitted, like Kosher in Hebrew. But in Lebanon it means "poor thing," like "Pobrecito" in Spanish. Except they use it a lot more here than in the Americas. It seems that in every conversation there is some object of pity. "Oh, she came down with a horrible flu this weekend. . . Haram." The intonation of the voice goes down with the second syllable, making it sound very sappy. In a way, people come off caring and sensitive when they say it, but then as my Canadian friend says, there always seems to be a Haram situation. So that after a while, it seems people say it even when things are really, really ugly like war or imprisonment or a baby dying, and then Haram comes off as trite and even foolish. (Or maybe that's just us non-Lebanese using it all wrong.)

I say it all the time now.

But my favorite use of "haram" is when I'm the subject of the sentence. "Haram, Jane, she has to go back to her lonely apartment by herself." "Haram, Jane, she has to take the bus into Beirut by herself." I, of course, don't really think of myself as a Haram Situation. But here in Lebanon, doing things by yourself and living by yourself are pitiable conditions. Most especially if you're female.

And then there's Sorry, which is what you say when you bump into someone and to mean "excuse me". Like to get a waiter's attention, "Sorry." I hate feeling like I'm apologizing all the time.

In general it seems that there are about 5 ways to say the same thing. This is one reason that Arabic is really hard to learn. Along with the fact that almost all study materials are in either FusHa or Egyptian. We've found only one dictionary that has a majority of words that are Lebanese and one good website.

Bliss Street by Kris Kenway

It's a novel that came out a little more than a year ago about life in Lebanon. When I first started reading it, it was making me mad. Like the British guy was making Lebanon to be so brutish and freakish and crazy. But then after a while, I was like--Geez, I know about everything that he's talking about. And it really is kind of like this.

Read it. I'd be interested to hear what y'all think.

After posting this, Becky got back to me and said that she couldn't find it on Amazon. But I went to his website, www.kriskenway.com, and found a link to the UK Amazon site, where you can get new and used copies for between 2 and 7 pounds.

Welcome to Lebanon


Black clouds pressing on Beirut
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Probably the most sarcastic phrase ever evented. Whenever something jacked up happens, the people explain it and then end the explanation, with a smile and "Welcome to Lebanon."

For example, when I bought a callback card and the company told me they issued a new one and I'd have to go back to the place where I bought it to exchange it, I went and of course the people there didn't know anything about it. A dude in the store who spoke English, just kind of smiled at my muddling through my attempt to get the right card. He was like "Callback is illegal in Lebanon. You're not going to see your money. . .Welcome to Lebanon."

And then there's the whole no lights/no electricity thing. The lights go out all the time. Nobody flinches. I've learned to carry around a flashlight with me at all times. (Always have wallet, keys, phone, flashlight.) The people here say this is normal. They lived through a war. They always had there flashlights. I just live in a place where the second biggest generator in the country broke because they kept putting off reparing a leaky ceiling. Every other night in Aley at 6 p.m. the power goes out. But that's okay because Aley was a hotzone during the war, and everyone has a generator. . . Welcome to Lebanon.

And then of course is the crazy weather. Snow, clear, sleet, clear, hail, clear. The way you say winter in Arabic is shitty. (It's a similar word for rain, too. Or maybe I'm just confused. . . This happens a lot.) It's a fun English pun. "Winter here is shitty. Welcome to Lebanon."

It's snowing in Aley right now. So I'm stuck in my apartment blogging. I could risk my life and go down to Beirut. But the Damascus Highway is very dangerous even when weather conditions aren't crazy. Dilek is under four feet of snow in Bcharre. The weight of it knocked down a grape orchard and somehow knocked out the electricity. . .Welcome to Lebanon!!

Istanbul


Stoplight in Istanbul
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Over Eid al-Adha, signifiying the end of the Hajj pilgrimage for Muslims, and the highest religious holiday for the Druze, I went to visit Dilek in Istanbul. She's living with her grandmother on the Asian side. In four days, we did tons of tourist stuff--saw great mosques, the Roman cisterns (totally way cool), and went to a Turkish bath!!! As she was getting scrubbed down, the half-naked Turkish lady told Dilek she was really dirty. I don't know if I was too, because I don't speak Turkish.

As you can see from the pictures www.homepage.mac.com/janerubio/PhotoAlbum24.html, Istanbul is very developed. I chose this picture because it has a street light indicating there are 18 seconds left to cross the street. I realized I hadn't seen one of those in a long time. I don't think there are any traffic signals anywhere in Lebanon. I haven't seen any. And the cars are all new and modern. Not like the 50 year old Mercedes in Lebanon. But there was one shell of a car that I took a picture of.

Before I showed them the pictures, the kids said they thought Turkey would be like Syria--poor and crappy. So they were very surprised to see all the nice, European cars and real bus stops with benches and glass coverings and a map.

I also took pictures of toilets. (You might have noticed this as a running theme in my travel photography.) Considering Turkey is practically Europe in terms of level of development, I was shocked to see an Indian-style toilet on the ferry--grates, water bucket and all. But later on, I saw a very sophisticated toilet with arm rests. . .Wow!

When I showed my students the pictures (we just happened to be studying Turkey in Geography class), they freaked out when they saw me covered in front of the mosque. And then they told me I didn't even do it right because they could see my hair.

Turks eat a lot of simit. It's a sesame pretzel-like bread. They sell it everywhere for the equivalent of about 30 cents. It's way yum. The food in Turkey is cheap and good. We crossed big suspension bridges by foot and dolmosh (a shared van) and took a lot of ferries across the Bosporous.

New Year's in New York


Christine & I in Little Italy
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

New York is cool because there are single people there. I went out to dinner with three other people my age, 28, and we were all single--2 guys and 2 girls. And after dinner, we went to Chris's place and played X-box. That was cool even though I am physically and mentally incapable of playing video games. It's some sort of hand-eye coordination, spatial reasoning malfunction. But after being the only single person among married couples for the past two weeks and finding out that EVERYONE is pregnant, I was happy to be there.

Katy establishments


Mo's in Katy
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.


Mo's is a bar in Katy. Notice the pick up trucks and motorcycles out front. It is right next to my gym. The people inside all wear cowboy boots and kicker style pants and shirts. They two step on the dance floor.

Mo is short for Muhammad. I think this is funny. Maybe this is a crazy rumor. Would the kickers go somewhere they knew was owned by an A-rab?

It's kind of like how the Kettle, the open 24 hour truck stop that we used to hang out in high school, became a Taqueria Arandas. This is symbolic of my life.

Growing up in Katy, which was predominantly white, I somehow managed to have a bunch of Asian friends. Denise and Linda-Taiwanese; Christie-Vietnamese; Christina-Chinese, Shilpen and Ilyas-Indian, Shari-Iraqi. Somehow these kids were always my friends. But like the whole Mo's thing, I didn't really realize they weren't white like me.

But then I didn't know what I was until I came back from college and started teaching in the "neighborhood." Not Katy, but Southeast Houston. There all the kids were Latino, mostly Mexican. And I was just a source of confusion. "That Miss is Mexican, too." Because I spoke Spanish (not so great) and my dad is Venezuelan/Colombian.

But it was the first time I started to appreciate Mexican food and places like Taqueria Arandas.

For such a hick place, I can find any body, any food, and any language I want in Houston. Even more than in Boston. You just can't get Tex-Mex there.

Hey, Mo's has a website. Troy sent me the link. It's http://www.mosplacekaty.com/index.html. You can see Mo!!