Paris - looking back. Palestine - looking forward.

My stay in Europe was so full, I hardly had the time or the energy to digest it. I simply let life happen to me and kept on walking the city streets.

It was great to be in Paris, everything was a visual delight -- from the way that people dressed, to the cakes in the windows, to the meats at the market, to the piles of couscous and lemon-sugar crepes, the antique markets and stores full of old maps or old photographs. Men and women are constantly looking at each other, hungry for a visual delight. It adds an extra layer of fun when I decorate my body with clothes and jewelry.

Katie and Viktor hosted me in their tiny sublet, and to them I am grateful! Poor Katie was in the midst of dissertation hell, working like a crazy woman toward her goal of completion. She's such an amazing friend, colleague and scholar! And Viktor was also great. We spent a day in the Marais trying to go to these galleries that happened to be closed because of some obscure Jewish holiday. We ate delicious peaches and veal and chocolate loveliness. We drank cucumber something or others and got all loopy. They wished me good night from their window as I lay outside the house sleeping (the appropriate parties will understand what the hell I'm saying).

I loved Paris -- so much so that I'm going to try to live there. There's this word in Arabic -- nassib -- it means fate. There are a number of indicators that I should stay in Paris, the first being that I don't yet have a return ticket to the US. The situation makes me feel like I'm living to the rhythm of the universe, following my intuition about things. I'm not anticipating the path that life will take me, but I am expecting the unexpected (whatever that means).

We'll see how it goes. I'm putting the thought out there in the universe. Universe! Give back to me! I feel like it's the logical next step in my life. Life abroad. In Paris there are libraries with books in English, which is the most important thing because I need to write my dissertation. And the artists are near. And there are exhibitions of Arab art all the time...for now, it's my place.

I was stationed in Paris and visited a couple other places in Europa including Brussels, Nimes, and London. First - Nimes. I stayed in Nimes for a night to attend the opening of an exhibition at the Carree d'Art Contemporaine called "SCENES DU SUD II - Méditerranée Orientale". Both Tarek Al Ghoussein and Walid Raad had pieces in it, but more remarkably, Tarek was going to be there. Another nassib situation, in my opinion.

It's interesting to think about the political and social implications of the concept of the Eastern Mediterranean as a community. And we must think of the exhibit in that way, for if there's one thing I've learned studying contemporary Arab and African art, it's that no exhibition exists outside of power and politics. France has a lot to gain by consolidating this geographic unity. Nonetheless, the exhibit was very interesting. It was heavy on video, but I liked that very much. One beautiful video was by Jumana Emil Abboud called The Pomegranate. The video closed in on a pair of hands removing pomegranate seeds from its pod and then trying to put them back. The process produced red squirts and splashes of pomegranate juice. It evoked memories from my childhood when I would obsessively remove pomegranate seeds one by one, staining my hands and marveling at the cells that so perfectly wrapped around the seeds. The video is alarming in its visceral appeal, but it is also meant to evoke the situation of Palestinian refugees who've been extracted and don't quite fit. Or maybe it's about the worry over what will happen if and when people do return?

Hassan Musa picked me up in Nimes and there began a three day conversation about politics, art, identity, language, community, agency, salad made from veggies growing in the garden, empire, and family relations among a multitude of other things. It was a very important trip for me on many levels. Aside from the energizing effects of being around such an amazing couple, there was something happening on a completely subconscious level. The first night I was there, my throat started hurting. I went to be shivering, vowing to fight off whatever virus was coming at me with a vengeance. I struggled with it all night and woke up with a full blown flu but I couldn't spend the little time I had there laying in bed moaning. After all, the whole point of my trip to France was Hassan. So I battled it, the whole time knowing that the fever was a physical manifestation of some emotional and mental purging. That weekend was the one where I began to conceive of the idea of living in Paris. I also made some relationship changes that were more freeing than I expected. But I feel like there's more to it than just those things. I haven't quite figured it out, but I know that eventually it'll all come together.

I came back to Paris for a couple of days and then headed to London. My first stop there was Ascot, and I happened to be there for the Ascot horse races. Let me tell you -- that was a cultural experience if I ever saw one. The day I arrived was Ladies day, where women came dressed in their fanciest hats. It was one of those events where you go to see and be seen. The races are neither here nor there for many people. I figured that out one day as I arrived at the Ascot train station from London and had to pass through throngs of drunk bastards on their way home from the races. It was pretty hilarious to see women taking off their inappropriate shoes and men in top hats and tuxedos slumped over.





But the best part about Ascot was staying at the Lovel Dene house. When I contacted Trish to ask her if I could stay with her, I didn't expect to be staying on a proper English estate, complete with a pond, boat and summer houses, amazing vegetable garden, flowers, fields, and in the neighboring lands, the most amazing forests of oaks and pines. Jigga, the benevolent overseer of the place, opened up her home to me like the gracious hostess she is. I felt so blessed to be there, and every time I looked around me, I was continually shocked at the beauty.

And did I mention the llamas? Yeah...this was probably the last thing I expected to see in England.














I then transferred to my friend Manuela's place in London proper. We were staying in the borough of Hackney, and let me tell you -- it couldn't have been more different than Ascot. But my stay with Manuela was just as important. We talked for hours and hours about power and our place in the world and politics and spirituality and religion. It was overwhelming, but made me feel that somehow, I had an understanding that could help me live the life of a better human in this great big universe. And Manuela is great. She and I grew up art historically together. We both studied with Judith Bettelheim at San Francisco State University, and have a very similar approach to art and our studies. I've always compared myself to my fellow students at Michigan, feeling like I lack something important. But being with Manuela affirmed for me the reasons why I love art, and the questions that drew me into this crazy process called graduate school.

Today is my first day back in Ramallah. I'm sitting at my cousins' restaurant, surrounded by people eating lunch and smoking the erghileh. Oh god I want to smoke! I'll resist as long as I can. I think I'm going to start the internship on Monday, but I have yet to arrange the day. I'm happy, healthy, and so very excited about what life has in store.