Palestine, part one

I came to Ramallah yesterday, and it's been beautiful. One of the first things I noticed is the major shift between how I felt in Amman and how I feel here. Crossing the border turned my frown upside down, and I began to question what it is about Amman that's so wretched? I came to this conclusion -- being that 60% of the population is Palestinian (and they're primarily there because of '48 and '67), being that the terrain and weather are quite similar, one feels like it could be Palestine. In fact, when I first arrived, I felt quite happy because I felt a familiarity. After being there, though, I realized that it's not Palestine. On so many profoundly overlapping levels, Palestine is so close, yet so far. It's just across the Jordan River, just across the Dead Sea, and people used to cross back and forth all the time. Borders are inhumane, and the attempt to render a border impenetrable goes against what humans ought to do - move freely across lands. Somehow, Amman's not-quite-Palestine-ness has generated a thick bitterness that makes the air there heavy.

I got into the country with relative ease. I paid an extra $100 to pass the border at Allenby Bridge as a "VIP." This meant that instead of getting off and on buses, waiting for them to fill up before they'd leave, wait with the throngs of much more assertive people than I for luggage, etc., I was marked as 'privileged.' And in some senses, I am. In others, I'm not. I still had to wait 2 hours while the Israeli's checked to make sure various things (I wasn't intending to stay forever, I don't hold a Palestinian identity card, etc, etc...), but 2 hours is much better than the 5 I waited last time around. I think the extra $100 made the trip much easier.

I had a funny conversation with one of the soldiers while I was waiting to be let it. He came to ask me the same questions I was already asked three times. He was a nice enough fellow who spoke English without an accent:

Kathy: Where are you from?
Soldier: Canada
Kathy: Oh, I live in Michigan, quite close to Canada.
Solder: I'm from Alberta, a little ways away.
Kathy: Well, you have a nice country. Both of them.
Soldier: (Smiling) Thanks! Well, that should be enough.
Kathy: Okay, great! Hook me up! (i.e. get me the fuck out of here quick style)

I love it here. The bus took us from the border to Jericho where you then catch a shared taxi to your next destination. The trip to Ramallah took us through these windy roads on mostly low lying hills, but other times quite steep and scary. They were dotted with makeshift homes built by folks who live in those unforgiving hills in corrugated metal structures (unbearably hot in the summer, and bone chilling cold in the winter). They tend to their goats and chickens, and live what must be a pretty isolated life. I mean, it's close enough to Jericho by car, but I didn't see many there. We drove the roads, through the hilly town of Taybeh (home of the delicious Taybeh beer and its brewery), past illegal Jewish settlements, underneath Jewish-only bypass roads, till we finally got to Ramallah.
(above, an illegal West Bank settlement)


I just love it here. How do I explain it? I felt like I could finally let out a sigh and relax. It's such a profound feeling, such a lovely comfort to feel at home. It's near unbelieveable to me.

I came directly to the Zarour grocery store and began meeting everyone. My cousin Diana was running the store while Ghneim was on break at the house. I made my way across the street, feeling as if I had never left. My aunty Jane was beaming with her white smile and silvery hair. Ghneim welcomed me with his smart ass comments and a sweet hug. Diana with her double kisses and big smiles. It's good to be here. My aunty Mary visited me, then I met up with a bunch of people at Zarour BBQ (super delish chicken for those of you who ever make it out here). Again, I felt like I never left when I saw Muna and giggled at her silliness, evoked by the excitement of having Tamara (her daughter, my sister) and I here together. Issam and Summer were also there, with their two beautiful kids, and there was Nihad with her kids, and Nader the musical maestro, Elizabeth and her kids, Ghneim and I.

Then to Ramie's birthday party, which was a house full of happy kids running and screaming, a table full of food and cakes that Jane (15 years old!) made, adults in the living room chillin', eating, drinking turkish coffee.


THEN (same day, yo)! I was invited by Summer and Issam to a get together. It was great to meet like-minded foreigners, Palestinians from the Diaspora, and Palestinians involved in film, art, development, green energy and so on...We got into serious discussions regarding the proper size of fruit for sangria, but in the end, we were happy to have the delicious drink, and it made everyone properly loopy and encouraged fun conversation about music, politics, life in Palestine, life in London and whatever other words were shared. Got home super duper late and didn't hear the end of it from my dear cousin Ghneim. : )

As I said, I love it here.

Mountains and Sea

My trip to Jordan has afforded me some very interesting day trips, including my favorite place, Ma’in Hot Springs. The place is being built up to accommodate for more tourism, but to me, it was just fine (actually though, the bathrooms sent Tamara and I running out screaming). The springs were unbearably hot in some places. They are nestled in a mountain range between the Dead Sea and Madaba, and the drive into the valley was quite tortuous. The landscape was very dramatic, filled with rocky red and orange mountains. I imagine it’s gorgeous at sunrise and sunset. We drove into the resort area and made our way for the waterfalls. Going down this path, they became visible as we walked closer, and I got really excited because there were people just standing there underneath the powerful pounding water, unable to move. They looked pretty funny, so Tamara and I made fun of them and found a place to sit. After I got over the freak out of being half undressed in front of people and deciding to wear my skirt with my bathing suit, I got into the water and marveled at the warmth of it. It’s strange because even though the day was quite warm, it didn’t bother us to be in warm water. I think they channel through some cold water into the fall. I slowly made my way underneath the waterfall and was totally astounded. Tamara, Mohsen and I looked at each other stunned at how powerful the water was pounding down on us. It was a strange combination of feelings. First, the water felt therapeutic. Then, being under a mad rush puts you in a kind of a hypnotic state. The water falls down rather steady, but every once in a while, it pounded extra hard as if another spring joined in. All you can do is stand there and give in to the power of the falls, and I willing did so.

The drive there was pretty great, too. First we passed through what is referred to as the Grand Canyon of Jordan. I didn’t realize how mountainous Jordan is. We passed through this little town built along the mountain road and I thought about the relationships people have to the mountains in which they live. I thought about the Berber girls in the High Atlas Mountains in Morocco, and the Bedouins at Mt. Sinai in Egypt. I thought about the folks in the Northern Sierras who make their money during tourist season and close up for the winter, getting snowed in and all. While I lumber up the mountain like an elephant, unsure of every step, kids in rubbery slippers bounced from rock to rock. I thought about the animals people encounter, and the people animals encounter. I think mountains breed a special kind of being.

Then we got to the Dead Sea and I gasped because I could see Palestine just across. I felt sad that the days of going back and forth between Jordan and Palestine with nothing but the road to worry about were over. Tamara mentioned that she never sees boats on the Dead Sea, it probably has to do with its salt content. Or maybe it’s something to do with security? I don’t know. But it is sadly symbolic that the horizon toward Palestine is comprised of a sea that’s so salty, nothing can live in it, a sea upon which no boats float. I have the privilege of being melancholy, but it’s not an option for people who live there (though depression must be rampant there). That’s why you see people laughing all the time in Palestine, or snapping at each other, or marveling at this years figs…feeling their feelings with all they’ve got. For what else can you do in a place that the world has deserted?

60 years

Today is the Nakba anniversary. I’m watching the news on Al Jazeera and Al Manar TV, listening to speeches I can barely understand about hopes for a Palestinian state, the right for Palestinian refugees to return to the villages they were expelled from 60 years ago at the founding of the state of Israel, the inhumanity of occupation and the full support Israel has of the US. In Jordan, commemorative events are not allowed, but people (who have the emotional energy to think about it) are wearing black. In Jerusalem, while world leaders like our dear president Bush are visiting Israeli heads of state, a slew of black balloons are being released in protest. In the UAE, blood drives are being held to collect 531 units of blood (the same number of villages destroyed by Zionist forces in ’48). The power of the activities being held in the Arab world are purely symbolic. I guess there’s importance in symbolism, but to me, the events are more a symbol of the lack of official support for Palestine. It is clear that money and power tip the scale in measure with justice and human lives.

Relationships

I got to Amman yesterday, relieved to find the weather absolutely tolerable, even chilly in the evenings. I came to stay with Tamara, my dear friend of nearly 20 years (oh my god, I’m old). We rarely see each other these days because we always seem to be living on different continents. Aside from the fact that I’m staying with her for the next couple of weeks, yesterday there was an extra treat. For YEARS I’ve been hearing about Trish, a woman she befriended when living and working in Ramallah 8 years ago. While I was hearing about Trish, and Trish was hearing about me. We became famous to each other. Yesterday, Tamara, Trish and Kathy sat together on the patio, drinking coffee (like good Arabs), finding the fact that we were all together absolutely unbelievable. It was great, and though I’ve never met Trish, the energy among the three of us was quite natural, which is pretty damn special.


My first day in Amman was wild. I came to Tamara’s house and sat with Trish for a little. Mariam, a free-lance journalist, came over and picked us up. We maneuvered through the crazy driving that is Amman and went to a hotel. I didn’t realize why or what we were doing there, but it turned out that she had a media friend there, who was set up in an office. I mean, literally, one of the rooms was turned into permanent office space for a major media outlet. The conversation that ensued was the theme of the day, a theme that started with Trish.


What inevitably comes up in conversation with Palestinians or people who’ve lived in Palestine is the occupation. This time, we talked about the psychology of being under the constant threat of getting killed or shot, of death always looming ahead. It brings with it fear, of course, but also becomes strangely addictive. The high of making it one more day and accumulating close-calls must be exhilarating. Life is as exciting as it can get when something as simple as going outside is an unpredictable and frightful occasion, so much so that “normal” life becomes the most boring thing in the world. And actually, that’s what happens. Once out of the war zone, boredom sets in, life becomes mundane.

The man we met has spent some time in Iraq and upon our settling in, the stories began. The crazy thing about it was how excited he got when talking about near death experiences – leading a convoy of journalists and media people into Iraq at the beginning of the war because they thought he had an armed guard (turns out he didn’t); cars breaking down in Fallujah, the site of intense fighting, where they had to sit and wait for two hours to get them repaired and get on the way; how relaxing (I swear to God he said that) it was to stay in the compound in Baghdad, because there was nothing to do but sit around, read or socialize. How interesting we humans are, adapting cleverly to situations in which we find ourselves.

Mohsen, Tamara's husband, came back to Amman last night. He is a fantastic musician and was in Beirut recording. Again, fighting....it took him days to get to the studio to fetch the tape that held all his work. After all this....my stay here begins.

deliciousness

A note about some of the delicious foods I've been fortunate enough to munch on:

The biggest, juiciest, stickiest, freshest dates I've ever tasted in my whole life. I had no idea life could be so beautiful.


Dragonfruit - I think ours wasn't ripe yet, because the majority of it was flavorless. But the center had a subtle sweetness that was quite nice. Also, I liked the millions of black seeds because they gave each bite nice texture.






Raboutan - another Asian fruit that looks like a beautiful sea creature







Tamarind - it's tangy and yummy, despite it's strange exterior. The name tamarind is actually from Arabic -- "tamar hind" means Indian dates. Ya learn something new everyday.




Cubes of medium soft cheese. What made this special was the whole red peppercorn sprinkled on the cheese. I thought they were tiny pomegranate seeds, but when I bit into spicy goodness, I was pleasantly surprised by the chorus of exclamations in my mouth.

A local fish called hammour. At the hotel, they cooked it up with a melange of spices I cannot identify. Our proximity to South Asia comes through in the food.

M ate perfectly poached eggs in a saffron sauce that she can't stop talking about.

I ate lobster for the second time in my life. Again, I was disappointed, but I'm hoping that it was poorly prepared both times I tried it. (The evening after I wrote this, M and I went to a restaurant called Bu Tafish in Abu Dhabi and I finally got to taste delicious Omani lobster. It was grilled, and it was fabulous. I ordered a fish called Sultan Ibrahim. I was pleased --)


hmmm....what else?

Honestly, I think the dates were the best part.

Juxtapositions, contradictions

Today I’m seated in the lap of luxury, eating overpriced food and being tended to by people from Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, India and Bangladesh who are likely here without any family members. At the same time, a cyclone breaks out in Myanmar, killing tens of thousands, Lebanon is again under the threat of a ‘civil’ war, mothers give birth at checkpoints in the West Bank, people starving in Gaza…what is this life, and what is my role in the world? Times like these I wonder why in the hell I’ve chosen to study art.

I’m thinking about this and walk outside to meet M at the beach and the sun, which had thoroughly browned me in the 45 minutes I was outside earlier, had all but disappeared behind this gray sky. Along with the gray came wind, and rain. Again! Rain….and the wind was whipping these cold rain drops and all the employees were rushing around to close up the beach (yeah, the beach closes at 6, or apparently when there’s weird weather). M was not looking forward to sand in her eyes and the subsequent eye infections this brings, so she headed in. Being the “I want to learn it for myself” type, I hung out to experience the weather. Also, there was no sand whipping around, so I felt safe. It was pretty amazing. Wind is normal, but this rain is not. We came upstairs to read an article that reported that the rain Abu Dhabi got the other day was due to cloud seeding. In other words, the rain was man-made. If you're interested in learning about artificial rain in the UAE click here..

Danat Resort, Jebel Dhanna

I didn't expect to be in a 5 star resort, but I am, so I will soak it up, baby....all the way. When we were checking in, I was so nervous, that I spilled the mint lemonade all over the registry list for today's guests. I immediately turned red, which is something I don't generally do.

Anyway, here's the crazy amazing resort where I'm staying.

Settling into the Emirates, settling into myself

Once I met Tarek, I gave myself the chance to relax a bit, which has been so great. I had been running like a headless chicken for the past couple of months, so I've decided to simply chill out during the day. This means that whenever possible, I wake up when I wake up, hang around, do some yoga, eat breakfast, relax, write, whatever. I could probably do this all day long, but I should probably see Abu Dhabi, just a little.


Allowing myself the space and time without feeling the need to be productive has been quite nice, and I’m going to try to do it as much as I can. So much of my life as a graduate student is spent either working my butt off or feeling guilty for not working enough. One of the things I hope to learn from this trip is how to let go.


A couple of days ago, I went with my dear friend to her work at a college about 1.5 hours away from the city of Abu Dhabi. It was so nice to get out of the big city and meet Emiratis living in the Western Region. The average student age is 18, but there are women in their 30s getting their college education, too. Some are mothers, some are widows, some are both. They are astounding – energetic and proactive – nothing (but social taboos and cultural norms) can stop them. But really, there’s something about them that makes them feel like they can do anything. And they do! For example, they opened a little store on the tiny campus selling stationary and office supplies as well as MAC lip gloss (what self-respecting Emirati 20 something girl would be caught dead without it?). And when we walked into the boys classroom, they stood up out of respect. They were so kind and sweet…I was flabbergasted. You rarely see such sincere engagement between staff, teachers and students in the States. I’m officially on the lookout for an eligible Emirati.




On the way home, we took the long way, passing through an oasis area called Liwa so that we could drive through the vast area of desert it borders. It was astounding – the sand dunes shifted shapes right in front of my eyes, as the wind whipped top layers right off and onto the freeway. Just like snow snakes and dances across the road with the wind, so does sand. The ride was intense and involved a lot that I won’t describe in detail, but I’ll outline quickly – relentless conversation, repressed emotion, weather that simultaneously gave us rain, 40 degree Celsius temperatures and powerful gusts, camels caravanning all in a line, desert bushes that probably popped up that day after the earlier rain, and, later in the 2 ½ hour ride, palms heavy with nearly ripe dates.




It was an intense ride, and I wanted so badly to escape into the desert, so I did. We stopped and buried our shoeless feet within fine grains of orange sand. It moved like liquid between my toes, warm and inviting. The eager green that grows there was delightful, and I felt happy to be in such a magical place.




The weather and topography are extreme out here, and as summer progresses, there will be nowhere to go but “extreme-er,” and then “extreme-est.” Yesterday the high was 100F, which is pretty damn hot. When it’s that hot, there is no choice but to slow down. Take a breath, relax and feel your mortality. Really, this is one of the places where you come to understand how close death truly is.


Yesterday I went to another oasis called Al Ain (“the spring”) with my cousin, her husband and damn cute baby who was experimenting with the variable sounds of her vocal cords the whole day. We didn’t see the springs, but we did drive up this heartless rocky mountain range called Jebel Hafit on the border with Oman. The mountains jutted out of the ground slanted, coming to peaks pointing north. Fossils of coral, oysters, barnacles and crab claws have been found in the area. Again I feel small in relation to the vast expanse of time. Al Ain National Museum has on a view an impressive collection of natural and man made heritage from the area. Today the Emirates are a diverse place full of expats from all over the world. But its special location on the Gulf means that it has always been a whirling hub of cultures. This is the kind of stuff that gets my juices flowing and heart pumping.


The next couple of days, I’ll stay in Al Ruwais at a resort hotel in Jebel Dhanna. I’m so lucky, damn it! M has to be down here for national yearly student testing (Allah ma’akum!). Though its inevitably a super stressful time for students, it will be a super relaxing time for me. I plan to hang ten at the beach, read, write, get a little sun and exercise. I will seek pleasure. That is all.

I have arrived!

Greetings from Abu Dhabi! I arrived just a couple of days ago and hit the ground running. With the help of relaxation pills at night (thanks Xtino and Katie!) and caffeine during the day, I battled jet lag like a champ!

New York was a beautiful trip, though Nayara and Christina, thoroughly beat down by the heaviness of living there, kept disagreeing with me about how beautiful the city really is. A visit to New York is similar to playing with someone else’s baby because when you’re done, you can simply hand her right back to mama. But Sarah’s dedication to making it happen in that place attests to its potential. Good luck to the three of you, my sisters.

I ate….oh how I ate! Delicious Italian food at Inoteca with a sweet friend: bruchette with caponata di verdure, fresh ricotta with sun dried tomato, and this crazy sumptuous almond love paste smeared over delicious bread. Jesus Christ.
Bottles of wine, over priced cupcakes, Jamaican food that included prawns cooked in a coconut milk sauce. Needless to say, it was TOO MUCH! I’ve re-devoted myself to exercise. Otherwise, I’d be in be big trouble. New York also involved art (umm yeah, the point of this crazy trip). I met Walid Raad and realized that I have much to learn, and much to unlearn. It made me anxious, but I can do it. I also saw a couple of exhibits: “Archive Fever” at the International Center for Photography and the Whitney Biennale (most notable: Walead Beshty http://www.hammer.ucla.edu/exhibitions/110/).


Next stop: Paris for a day! Just enough to whet my appetite (literally and figuratively…) and spend a beautiful day with my dear Katie and Viktor. We walked the city traversing the 19th century passages, taking in the beautiful window displays of Spanish tapas, beautiful cookies colored and flavored with lavender, artisanal cheeses. We jumped around Daniel Buren’s site specific installation at the Palais Royale, flipped off the basilica Sacre Coeur at Montmarte for its affront to revolution, drank some tasty French wine, thoroughly enjoyed this Vietnamese dish called Bun Bo. It was a beautiful trip and I can’t wait to go back in early June.


On the flight from Frankfurt to Abu Dhabi, I met a Palestinian man with a typical Palestinian story – his family left Palestine and has been living in diaspora since, unable to go back because he has the wrong passport. As my friend Regev (who I’ll be hanging with in the homeland) said, “it’s a war of demographics,” meaning get as many Jews in and as many non-Jews out. I meet one Palestinian after the other, most of whom have never been there, have conversations about what it’s like to be a Palestinian in Diaspora – with survivor guilt if you’re doing well, or this burning push to keep working on and on. Palestine looms in my head and heart, a metaphorical, emotional, literal, and sometimes mythical place that demands my attention. It is my final destination on this trip, and I think it will envelop me like a blanket.


I’m staying in Abu Dhabi, but have not yet explored it. On M’s days off, we took the long drive to Dubai. It’s about 1-½ hours away, but it’s a huge pain because Dubai is one gigantic construction zone and traffic is constantly re-routed. One cannot rely on the same landmark from one week to the other. New developments are constantly being erected, and the landscape is always changing. That said, the buildings are mind boggling, and situations crazy. I still don’t understand this building we saw yesterday that looked paper thin on one end. I swear to God. And M mentioned that she recently saw a bulldozer on top of another building. Inexplicable. Dubai’s money comes from tourism, so here’s how one can experience the emirate: go to the Emirates Mall and ski in an indoor ski mountain, shop, eat, play, etc. Or, you can go to this (new) souk that comes complete with a Seattle’s Best Coffee and Cinnabon. You can also check out the Burj al Arab: http://tetrabulgaria.com/listing_image_4392.html
Or the islands being built in various shapes, like date palms: http://guide.theemiratesnetwork.com/living/dubai/the_palm_islands.php
or the map of the world: http://guide.theemiratesnetwork.com/living/dubai/the_world_islands.php

Yesterday M and I also drove to Sharjah, where I met Tarek Al Ghoussein (another dissertation artist) in his home on the American University Sharjah campus. It was an exciting conversation that made me feel like the direction of my thinking about his work will be productive. Later, we went to Dubai and had dinner with Jack Persekian who I’ll be working with at Al Ma’mal Foundation for Contemporary Art in Jerusalem.

One thing about the Emirates that has really blown my mind: the racial, cultural, and class diversity here is such that difference is the norm. There are workers who come from places like the Philipines, South Asia, Europe, the US, the rest of the Arab world, West and East Africa, and East Asia. People come here to work for a number of years and make $$ to send back home with the intention of eventually leaving. The lingua franca is therefore English (which is a bummer because I want to speak Arabi!!!) Housing is generally paid for, and people get either transportation allowances or get driven to work in big buses. It’s no cure for capitalist exploitation, but it seems that people who get here can make the money they are after.

Today (4 may 08) is my first chill day. I’m writing, exercising, puttering around and thinking of my family and friends – missing the ones in the States and grateful for the chance to meet up with those on this side of the world. The fact that I’ll be primarily staying with friends and family throughout this trip attests to the fact that I am blessed! I am grateful, and I am happy. Big Hugs to you all.