The Games People Play

What an interesting experience it is to have to work under people. For the past year, I've only had to answer to myself, having had my own tutoring service, but now there is this thing called “management” and I am now longer my own boss. It is pointless to write about the details of the drama, but let's just say I've become one of those people who get “written up”. How did that happen? I feel like a kid that got detention or something. Only, I don't feel a single ounce of compunction in me because I know that I did nothing wrong. Gone are the days when I feel remorse just because someone higher up on the ladder is wagging their finger at me, even if I did nothing to deserve it! People do get interesting in positions of power, but I've learned to look upon them and their little games with bemused (amused?) detachment.

The Unexpected

Friday 8/22/2008

Silly me. I came to Erbil fully prepared to accept that I wouldn't be doing any drinking for an entire year- this being a Muslim region- and one of the first things we do is make a pit stop in the Christian neighborhood of Ainkawa for an alcohol run. The street where we made the stop was littered with as many alcohol shops as Montmartre in France has sex shops (ie: every 2 paces), and it is seriously seedy at night. How seedy you ask? During our stop there, my hallmate Niroj and I nearly got picked up as prostitutes by dirty old Kurdish men! It seemed not to have mattered that I was dressed in my scrubbiest jeans and a sleeved shirt. If you merely stand on a sidewalk for an extended period of time, you can get mistaken for a whore waiting for clients, rather than just two innocent girls waiting for the rest of their group to return to the shuttle. 

The funny part is, if it weren't for Niroj, who speaks Kurdish, I would have had no idea of the entire situation. There I was just standing at the edge of the sidewalk next to her, obliviously eating my orange sorbet. I was so into my sorbet that I barely noticed these middle-aged heavy-set balding dude exchanging words with my friend. and gesturing to his car. Suddenly, she exclaims:

“Oh my GOD, those men think we're hookers!”

I paused with the little spoon raised to my open mouth. “What? What men??”

Apparently, N. had returned his “Choni? Bashi?”, the customary Kurdish greeting, and the dirty man took that as a sign that we were there for more than just shopping and ice cream. (What is with dirty men and their ability to extrapolate sexual desire from a simple greeting?)

“Ware, ware (come, come),” he said gesturing toward his car, and that was when I was unpleasantly jerked out of my innocent orange sorbet fantasy into dirty reality full of dirty old men and their own dirty fantasies, ew ew EW! 

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More of the Unexpected

The availability of alcohol is just one of several misconceptions I had of this place. There is also the PDA. As expected, there is not much PDA between women and men in Erbil. On the other hand, we were told that the level of public displays of affection between men and other men here would surprise us outsiders. Not that they kiss on the lips or do full on tongue, but men are seen holding hands and kissing cheeks and it's totally acceptable and normal! 

Last night for instance, on the way to Ainkawa-Sahara “Mall”, I spotted 2 men greeting each other by kissing one another on the cheek not twice, not thrice, but SIX TIMES (we started keeping a verbal tally in the van when they reached #3)! Left, right, left right, left right...pause...left, right, left right, left right, and done! The strangest part was, notice that after kiss #3, they actually paused and took a moment to look around at their surroundings, and then returned to finish off their ultra-ceremonious greeting. Huh? Why did they pause? Was it so lengthy a greeting that they felt the need to take a break in between? Did they get bored in the middle of it, but decided to finish it off when they realized nothing more interesting was going on around them? WHO KNOWS! I'll have to continue making more observations on men-on-men PDA in order to solve this mystery. 

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I want fireworks at MY wedding! Today, we had tea and cakes at the fancy Hotel Khanzad which stands only a few minutes drive from the school. From the window, we could see a traditional Kurdish wedding ceremony taking place below, with a line of men dancing around in a large circle waving the Kurdish flag (red, white, and green with a yellow sun in the middle). Hm, it seems that men get to have all the fun in this culture. Fireworks burst high into the darkened sky from behind us as we drove off to return to the campus. Earlier that day, we also visited the castle that used to be inhabited by Princess Khanzad. It was small and austere inside- more like a barrack than a castle- and beige-colored geckos scampered across the walls, blending into its khaki bricks. The view from the rooftop was incredible.

The princess who occupied this austere dwelling was a famous 11th or 12th century warrior princess in Kurdish history who fought (and won!) battles against the Ottomans and others. There is also a modern representation of the Amazonian-like warrior woman in the PKK- the Kurdish rebel group that lives in the mountains up north and fights the Turks for Kurdish human rights. Women are said to make up 50% of the rebel group! Pretty impressive for a society in which men get to do the dancing and the PDA. Gender roles seem to be reversed here in Kurdistan. 

Gastrointestinal Turmoil

Tuesday, 8/19/2008

Five days into the program, 2 of our teachers have fallen ill from food poisoning. The culprit was the chicken from the oozie at the fancy Lebanese restaurant that the staff was treated to yesterday. Really, it was the luck- or lack there of- of the draw because the main entrees came out in 2 sets, and it was the people who got theirs later that got sick. That could have been me! One of the sick was alternately projectile vomiting and passing out cold. She got to spend the night before her birthday in the hospital. Rest assured, it was the good hospital in Erbil, not the one that makes you MORE sick! Poor thing...I think I will make her a card: on one side, it will say “Get Well Soon!”, on the flip side it will say “Happy Birthday, Ranelle!”, and on the inside, it will say a hybrid of the two messages: “Get Birthday Soon, Ranelle!”

Bomb Walls and the Citadel

Tuesday, 8/19/2008

Bomb walls are one of several means used to keep Erbil safe. They are thick cement walls built around the city, particularly around its important buildings like the Parliament. However, you may not recognize them at first sight as anything remotely connected with protection from enemy fire. This is because innocuous looking murals are painted over them to make them appear less intimidating. Pictures of flowers and smiling stick figure children and items related to Kurdish history and culture dance along the (hopefully) impenetrable cement surfaces. 

The city center of Erbil is a major contrast from Khanzad- the municipality that our school actually belongs to. There are huge parks and rows of highrise apartments, a huge exciting-looking bazaar overflowing with pedestrians, green spaces with citizens lounging around on them or playing soccer. And the citadel of course, which is the focus of the entire city. 

Most everything is built along two concentric circular highways around the citadel (kind of like Paris), and they call these two major highways 60 km and 100 km because those are the circumferences of those highways circling the citadel (from this info, and the formula C=2pir, you can work out that the distance from the citadel to the highways are about 10 and 17 km, respectively). There are also roads that radiate outward from the citadel. So basically, the city is shaped like a wheel with spokes and all. 

The citadel is an awesome and impressive, but ugly structure built high atop a steep dirt hill. The reason for its fame- and the reason why it's recently been turned into a World Heritage site- is because it is one of the oldest continually-inhabited cities in human history. The Medes- ancestors of the Kurds- lived there. The Assyrians of ancient Mesopotamia who spoke now-defunct tongues and wrote in cuneiform on clay tablets made their mark there. Literally! Archaeologists actually recently discovered ancient cuneiform graffiti along the inner walls that said (roughly translated): “An Assyrian wuz here.” Along with some grocery lists. 

Of course, now that the citadel is being turned into a museum, it has lost its title of continually inhabited city. I figured as long as one person lived in those citadel slums, it would be able to retain its title, so I magnanimously offered to be that one person. But the director said no, that was not part of the contract. So I'm staying here, in my spacious and cheery apartment. I guess I am glad...the citadel is not powered by AC.

Notes from the Erbil Street Shops

Tuesday, 8/19/2008

It is 2 am. I looked outside my window at the rolling brown hills devoid of any sign of human life besides the lights of the security station in the distance. This isolation can be at times liberating, and at times very very lonely. I had a good time today shopping in the streets and mingling with the locals. When I consciously think about it, I still find it hard to believe I am here in Iraq of all places, but on the other hand, I can already feel myself getting used to the sights and scenes just 5 days in. Scary how quickly things become familiar, how quickly we can adapt to new surroundings and ways of life. 

At the market, I went around pointing to products and asking “Ave chandi ya (How much is this)?" over an over again until the phrase was permanently fixed in my brain. My favorite stops were the fabric stores, where you get to pick out fancy, glittery fabrics that get made into traditional Kurdish dress. 

I was thinking it would be cool to save up for one of those- totally useless! But cool. I still feel very awkward about the way men stare out here. We (women) were advised not to smile at the men or make too much eye contact, but where are you supposed to avert your eyes when they are everywhere, staring back at you? 

Crossing streets in Erbil is akin to a near-death experience. You're supposed to just step out into oncoming traffic like you own the streets and put out your hand as a way of commanding them to stop for you. 

I sweated a bucketload today. It is lucky that our rooms are AC'd, but once we go out on the open road and into the city to shop or whatever, there is no more protection from the heat except in the occasional store. The larger more modern shopping spaces like Naza Mall are powered by AC, but when you're just shopping in the street shops or bazaar or even just riding in the van to get there, you're inevitably going to sweat profusely down to your underwear.

Post-Settlement Impressions

Sunday, 8/17/2008

I can't believe how much I love it here. Maybe it's the novelty of it, maybe it will wear off after a few weeks, and I'll start wishing I was somewhere cooler, less isolated, more developed, and less dusty and brown. But at the moment, 3 days into my year-long sojourn in Erbil, I can say without exaggeration or falsehood that I love where I am. 

I came here with the lowest of expectations with regards to beauty. Instead I find myself witness to some of the most beautiful sunsets I'd ever seen, a fiery red globe presiding over a vast desert landscape, sometimes over smooth, rolling brown hills, sometimes over a totally flat plain broken ere and there by the silhouette of a rare tree or shrub. My room is on the ground floor, and right outside my balcony there is a cement ledge that grows out perpendicularly from the wall. I just discovered that this ledge is the perfect place to watch the sun “dropping” every evening. The construction workers continue working their machines even after the sun has disappeared behind the hills. They kick up huge clouds of dust, some of which gets in my eyes. By sunset, the temperature has cooled considerably, so it is pleasantly warm at least until October, which they say is when the cold season eases in. The workers- locals and Bangladeshi- drop by to say hello, and I get to use my newfound knowledge of the Kurdish language to greet them and ask their names and tell them mine. The great thing about learning Kurdish while I'm actually living here is I don't need books or cds or professors to learn it because there are teachers everywhere among the workers and teachers, and you learn just by talking and socializing with them. It's not the most efficient way, but it is definitely the most fun an natural way to learn a language.

Life in Erbil is a mix between Little House on the Prairie and the 21st century. On the way from the airport to the school, we drove through ghetto neighborhoods, as well as past rows of newly built mansions- palaces really- of a splendor and grandiosity you would not even see in the States, except for maybe Hearst castle or something. Also past gorgeously ornate, pastel-trimmed mosques that I plan to visit close-up later. But mostly, Iraqi Kurdistan is miles and miles and miles of unsettled land, sometimes flat like a prairie, other times rolling with hills like you would see on a roadtrip up SoCal. But almost always brown and hot and dusty-looking. And hot. Really hot. the signs of growth are unmistakeable, though, and many. Staring out the van window, I saw skeletons of future mansions fly by, as well as what looked like an entire family working together to build a home in the middle of nowhere really. Even the little kids were digging in the dirt, and it is this scene that made me think of the Ingalls family and the pioneer life. 

Later, on the way to Naza Mall, I saw a dozen families picnicking in random spots along the highway- a strange sight to me because it would be like driving down I-5 and seeing a family having a picnic, blankets and all, just off the side of the road. But it appears to be a normal sight here along the highways of Erbil. Possibly, this is because there is no designated park or other green space nearby for those who live along these long stretches of road, so if you want to get a breath of fresh air with your family and have dinner outside, you just pick a spot along the open road, preferably one with a shady tree and set up blanket. It's so fascinating because in the US, everything is already discovered and settled, that it is hard to imagine the pioneering expeditions of our forefathers as anything more than storybook material now, in the 21st century. But here in Erbil, you see this old adventurous lifestyle of discovery and settling new lands come alive before your eyes- in the desert, under the glowing red sun.

Today, the school treated the entire staff to lunch at a fancy Lebanese restaurant about 10 minutes drive from the school. The food was delicious: many different kinds of Mediterranean-style salads, hummus and babaganoush, fried dumpling-type things filled with creamy cheese and meat. And flies. There was an annoying number of large flies buzzing around our food the entire time. Later, when the fruit platters came out, they were beside themselves with excitement. I tried to crush one with the salt shaker, but even that failed to kill it- neither in body nor spirit.

As we sat through the first day of orientation today, I felt truly excited about working with these people because we all want to be here, and whatever the initial draw was for each of us, we now know that we're about to take part in helping the Kurds in a small way, and it is exciting and meaningful. The students will mostly be children of local Kurds, many of them diplomats, businessmen, and yes, the prime minister. Due to the high-profile status of some of the students, we were told that during class hours, the grounds will be manned by gun-toting members of the peshmerga (Kurdish army). The campus, by the way is pretty impressive. 16 months ago, there was nothing. Now there is almost an entire campus including a sports arena, an outdoor amphitheater-type space, innumerable classroom space, pools, and of course, our apartment building. This S**** company is rich, yo. It's good to know that they are now using some of their money to build government schools that not-so-wealthy Kurds can attend. 

As for the system itself, I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Working for S**** will be like working for the CIA- you think you know what you're doing, and who you're working for, but there seems to be an undercurrent of secrecy (”Whatever you do, do NOT talk to the parents! If they ask questions, politely say a few words and direct them to the supervisors. Teachers should under NO CIRCUMSTANCES interact with the parents!), and you get the feel that you're a cog in a corporate machine. The director even stated outright that a school should be run like a business...and maybe he is right. I don't know enough about the theories to have an opinion on that issue. All I know is, speaking in the present for a moment (the present being about 2 weeks after the date of this post), I've heard the name “S****” so many times by now, every time used as if it were the name of an actual person, that I'm starting to feel a bit brainwashed, just like when I was doing Kaplan training. Kaplan this, Kaplan that. S**** this, S**** that. Such is the nature of working for a company, I guess, and by blogging about it, I suppose I'm playing a part in the whole marketing strategy and implementation. 

Anyway, back to the past. My room is enormous. I cannot believe my luck in getting all this space to myself, and they really went out of their way to make it homey and tastefully decorated. Floor-to-ceilng windows in both living room and bedroom leading to the balcony terrace, gorgeous curtains and Arabian-style hooks and knobs for them, where they are secured with golden tassels. Large, comfy L-shaped couch with more throw pillows than I will ever need- but it's nice to have them there. Tons of closet space and a decently-equipped kitchen. The only complain I have is the shower, which is the kind that is meant to flood the entire bathroom, so it has a drain and takes an hour or two to dry completely. But they provided us with squeegees today. Oh right, there's the leaky pipe in the kitchen. More about that later.

My Colleagues

I think we've got a good group of teachers here at ISC-E. I can already sense a faint divide between the older and younger crowd, which I suppose is all-too natural since people generally identify best with those in their own age group, but I have hope that the divide will disappear in time rather than grow stronger because older or younger, I think we are all past that high school mentality of cliques and exclusivity. There are about 6-7 girls in their early- to mid-twenties, and they all seem like a fun bunch with good intentions, and interestingly, two of them seem to have recently emerged from a major self-discovery phase brought upon by that all-too common catalyst called love. This last part I gathered from the story each of them shared with me, one about her fiance, and the other about a past relationship.

Another of the younger girls is married to the math department head. She has that beautiful pale Lebanese complexion with dark dark curly hair and a French accent. I wondered where the French accent came from, and she told me that the French occupied Lebanon sometime in the '70s? '90's? Can't remember. So it is a common second language there, although superseded by English now. She studied math in college as well and like me, has an interest in learning the Kurdish language during her stay here, so I think we might become study buddies, and even just buddies! Buddies...What a strange word.

There are a couple women in their 30's who I like very much because they seem mature and real, not phony at all. I don't know if this is due to their age or the fact that they are British. Maybe both. Speaking of the Brits, I might as well mention the rest of them. There is the man who always wears a fancy black suit and these funny theatrical-looking rectangle-framed glasses with two metal lines making up the earpiece instead of the usual one. He looks and sounds like he came straight out of a British comedy like Monty Python, it's just terrific! In fact, he is a native Kurd, but was raised in the UK I think??? There is the Scotsman who always has this look on his face like he's thinking of a really funny joke that no one else in the room gets or is even aware of. It's like he has these special rods and cones in his eyes that tint everything he sees in a funny light, hence that constant grin on his face and laughing eyes. Maybe that's just the way his lips are shaped, like Maggie Gyllenhaal.

There is Lone, who is Danish, dresses and sits like one of those women in photos from the 19th century, and doesn't talk much in class nor at dinner until you initiate conversation. I like her a lot, she seems kind and gentle, and very intelligent though she does not advertise it due to her introverted nature. She has lent me her Kurdish grammar book, yay! Now I can figure out how this language actually works, not just random words like choni, bashi, wara, supas, etc, etc. There are 2 Lebanese guys in their 30's, and the one thing that is most note-worthy about them is that this is the first time they have ever left their home country in all their 30 years. (And why they chose Iraq as their first expedition abroad, we have to wonder.). According to them, Lebanon is an amazing country with tons of things to do, amazing rooftop lounges and nothing ever shuts down, so you can party 24/7. Possibly, this is why they never left. I will have to visit Beirut during one of my vacations now.

Then there is the older crowd, who are the quirkiest. One of them is Pakistani, and she is very very proud of her conventionally successful family members (eg: it's her sister the doctor, not just her sister). She adores and misses her family very much and enjoys showing us the pictures she brought of them. Her initial plan was to go back to her home country, and I asked her why in God's name would you want to live in a battlefield like Pakistan (I know, I know, pot calling kettle black!), and she said she's at that time in her life when she just wants to be close to her old friends and family. Makes sense. Totally understandable. There is the man who has traveled to 23 countries, and don't you forget it! The woman with 3 cats living in her apartment, which I did not find out about until one day I rang her doorbell to borrow some detergent and smelled cats as soon as I stepped inside. There is the woman who spends all her time and self thinking about, caring for, and worrying over the other teachers. She projects perhaps a bit too much of herself onto others, I think, but in essence, she is kind. With regards to the older crowd, one has to wonder what they are doing here. It makes sense to see spontaneous 24-year-olds singles looking for adventure before getting tied down to one place with family, but what of the older crowd? What is their background story? Are they divorcees or never married in the first place?

Besides the teachers, (and there are more than the ones mentioned above!), there are administrators and the workers (construction, engineers, etc.). But more about them later. I will only mention that one of them, Rami, has an adorable 1.5-year-old, and I mention this not because they are major characters in this “school play”, but because babies are noteworthy solely by their cuteness factor.

The Trip to Naza Mall

Saturday, 8/16/2008

They call it a “mall”, but it's really just a supermarket on the ground floor with an upstairs level that sells some ugly clothes and shoes and other department-store type knick-knacks. I can already tell, after browsing through a few malls and street shops, that I won't be doing much clothes shopping here. 

Going to this particular market was an interesting experience. It seemed to be a central hang-out in Khanzad for friends, family, people of all ages, and had the air of a carnival. It was nighttime and the round moon rose high in the subdued sky to add to the yellowish glow of the plaza lights, so that the entire outdoor area was cast in shadows and a romantic marigold light. The air smelled sweet because there was a man selling cotton candy and balloons to wide-eyed excited kids. Another food stand selling falafels, mmm! Indoors, inside the market was another experience althogether. 

Being an Asian woman in Erbil is being on the wrong side of the cage at the zoo. Kids and grown-ups, women and men, all stared and stared, and the covered women shoved their adorable babies into my arms. It was fairly embarrassing, but at the same time, I adore babies and I was equally fascinated by them. 

Erbil, here I am!

Friday evening, August 15, 2008

I opened the door to my new single and was mighty pleased by the sight of my new bedroom- glorious, delicious splashes of bright orange and pink. Normally, such a glaringly bright color scheme might be too much even for me, but here in Erbil, thousands of miles from home in the middle of nowhere, extravagant cheeriness is exactly what I will need. With my cheery room, my music and my books, I feel quite happy, and the thought of coming adventures in exploring this completely alien terrain and culture thrills my imagination. 

There is still a lot of construction going on at the school. 

All the laborers are either Bangladeshi or Turkmen.

The Air in Dubai

Hot as an oven and wet like a sauna. Plus or minus some exaggeration. It was around 115 degrees, with gusts of hot wind blowing from the planes, and the air was so heavy with moisture that I could have taken out an empty Poland Springs bottle and bottled it up. If anyone was not yet convinced of the material nature of air, then you'd have no problem believing it in Dubai. I felt like a fish suddenly becoming aware of its watery surroundings. Now, whether fish are or aren't aware of their watery surroundings is still a contentious subject, but...'tis only a simile. 

My brother had made a request for a picture of the Burj Al Arab- the 7 star hotel built to resemble a billowing sail, sitting right in the middle of the sea. Yet, when we pulled up to the gate, I learned that you had to make a $300 reservation (minimum) just to go inside! My cab driver took me around back to Jumeirah Beach for the best view of the famous hotel that us poorer folk could afford.

...still far, far away, the unmoving sail...

I headed down the sands to dip my feet into the Arabian Sea.

The sand was different from any other sand I'd ever felt between my toes- so fine and soft it felt like I was walking on flour; and the water was unlike any other beach water I'd ever felt- it was actually warm!

Teaching Kindergarten

Finally, after a 7 hour delay at Dulles International Airport in DC, we are in the air, and boy was the sunrise amazing! It was a hushed blue-green sunrise, the color of the sea, which is a nice change from the usual red-orange-yellow ones I see in flight. I think the difference has something to do with the angle of elevation between the Earth and the Sun, but anyway.

While waiting for the flight, I befriended this little Indian-American girl named Rida. Rida was 4.5 years old and wore rectangular-shaped glasses, and she turned out to be an engaging and entertaining conversationist. One of the most interesting turns in the conversation came when she told me a story about ants:

"Once, there were ants on the tv, and I took scissors and I cut them." (She giggles.) "I like to cut things. But I don't cut people because then they have to go to the hospital. I only cut ants. And paper, and..."

Isn't it sort of frightening how much we don't know innately? Like don't cut people. I'm slowly beginning to realize that teaching kindergarten would be more about teaching people how to be people: how to not cut people, how to cross streets, how to share toys and say please, how to hop, skip, and jump- things that seem so basic to us adults that we forget they were taught to us long long ago.

Roj bash (Hello) from Erbil!

And without further ado, here are some needlessly long entries about my experiences in the Middle East so far. There is one thing that I hesitate to say here, but what the hell- the food here is totally giving me the shitz since day 3! Other than that, life is golden here- and hot, really hellishly baking hot.

Which is the more religious experience?

A) Standing in my backyard at 1:30 in the morning with my neck craned to the heavens, trying to spot a meteor, or

B) Opening the case containing my brand new ipod nano?

Good arguments can be put forth for either. In choice A, the absolute silence and stillness of the night, the lack of other (awake) human life, the soft silhouettes of tall evergreens that stretch into the sky, the imminent departure for unfamiliar lands far far away from home, and the enormous, expansive sky itself speckled with stars all make for a feeling that I can only call religious, though it has nothing to do with God. In choice B, let me tell you, there is something about the way Apple packages their products that makes opening them an unforgettable experience. The ipod nano, for example, is encased in a perfect little form-fitting glass box, and the lid opens upward to reveal the long-coveted nano, and I swear I heard an angel choir and saw divine light streaming from inside the box. Sigh...

It's a tough choice folks. Well, I'm off to the rooftop to watch for more of nature's fireworks!

Sometimes the Pictures Make the Book

Speaking of the different cultures/mentalities, thanks for those suggestions on contemporary Middle Eastern lit (and please feel free to reveal your identity in the comments!). "Arabian Nights" actually found its way into my travel library, along with a book on unicorn mythology that was on the same shelf at the bookstore. I have fairly little interest in the mythology of unicorns, but the pictures were so pretty I couldn't resist.

Prologue: Packing

It is 3 days to Erbil and way past my bedtime, but I am too excited to sleep. So I'm packing -early for once! Packing alone can be tedious work, especially if you're packing for a year-long stay in Iraq. But accompanied by Coldplay's latest album, Viva la Vida, suddenly packing feels...epic. 

What sort of items go into a suitcase destined for Iraq? Well nothing outrageous really. I'm basically transporting my modern, American livelihood from the burbs of Tacoma, WA to an oasis of modernity in Erbil, Iraq that looks something like this:

See what I mean about the oasis? Look at those brown hills! My apartment will be in the curved complex at the bottom of the picture. I imagine that each day until winter will be a constant tug-of-war between wanting to fling off my clothes because of the desert heat and wanting to keep them on to avoid skin damage from the burning sun, and also to avoid indecent exposure in the Middle East. Thus, I'm tossing a bunch of light cardigans/long-sleeves into my suitcase along with my usual tank tops. Capris and jeans as well as "teacher-wear" that I found at H&M that look professional yet trendy. A couple long skirts and knee-length dresses. Unlike Socal, it does get cold in Erbil during the winter because it's located at the foothills of the Zagros Mountains (we might even see some snow!), and so I do need to pack winter clothes.

Besides clothes, I plan on devoting a lot of time to reading, so I'll take a good number of books with me, and order more while I'm there. Does amazon deliver to Iraq? I have yet to check that out, but I think it's safe to assume that if there's an international airport in Erbil, amazon packages can find their way to my mailbox there. And besides that, toiletries, malaria/diarrhea pills, some pics and a stuffed animal, documents, my brand new product-red ipod-nano (!!!) plus other electronics, and last but far from least, my guitar Felix. That's it! Unless of course, Umma forces me to take a jar of kimchi or red pepper paste. I will make a "good faith" effort to keep those out of my luggage, but mothers are stubborn and Korean ones can't imagine letting their children go an entire year without kimchi. It's like the 8th deadly sin for god's sake. 

A word about those diarrhea pills: the traveler's health nurse wrote me a prescription for 30...That's 15 cases of diarrhea! Is that even necessary? 15 cases in 10 months would mean I'd be suffering through an average of 1.5 diarrheal episodes a month- I don't think my guts could handle that! Cross your fingers that I won't have to touch a single Ciprofloxacin pill while I'm there! 

Back to packing with Coldplay (yep, I put it on repeat). 

Rambaldi mysticism sighting in Dubai

Interesting fact # 474: the address of Burj Al Arab, the 7-star hotel in Dubai that resembles a billowing sail, is a palindrome: PO Box 74147. And of course, it contains our beloved Rambaldi number 47.

Teaching Tales

I worked with this little 3rd grader today for 2 hours, and 3 interesting things happened during those two hours:

1) He attacked me repeatedly with his markers. No joke, I came out of that room with black marks all over my arms plus a sticker (he enjoys rewarding me with stickers too). 

2) He pretended to pick his nose (it was a scratch, not a pick, for all you Seinfeld fans) and said he was digging for gold. I started calling him Golddigger. 

3) I taught him how to draw a heart. You see, for his listening skills activity, he was supposed to draw a heart inside the given heart, but I noticed that what he drew inside the given heart resembled a butt rather than a heart. "Want me to show you how to draw a heart?" I asked him. It took him a couple tries on his arm after I showed him, but the second one was markedly improved. I was proud. He went home that day with two black tattoos on his arm- one of a butt and one of a heart. 

Kids have way too much energy for their own good. It's such a relief for me during sessions when they start showing signs of flagging energy like yawning or putting their head on the table. That's when I know they'll stop attacking me with markers and actually listen, and that's when the learning begins. Am I joking? Maybe half-joking. In all seriousness though, with one of my students, the best session we ever had was when he was sick with the flu and huddled in a blanket. 

The Here & the Now, Part II: BBQ @ the Chungs

The BBQ was another great gathering of friends from all walks of my and Sarah's life. At one point the Lister elementary gang took a group shot for the first time ever- something we couldn't do back in 4th grade. We had a great time rehashing old memories and catching up and honestly I don't remember what else because that shot plus all that wine did me in. Yep, drove me right up the walls. Felix the guitar made an appearance, and I found myself singing my own version of "Sexy Candy", involving Skittles, Snickers, and Swedish Fish. Is that even a real song? Eh, now it is! The baklava turned out really well and it was surprisingly easy to make. All you need really is crushed nuts, butter, and phyllo ("leaf") dough, named so because of its paper-thin layers. When you bake it, the layers become as thin and crisp as autumn leaves. That mention of the Greek word phyllo calls for a huge tangent, but I'll refrain for now.

Later, when night fell and people were gathering around the burning BBQ grill and rubbing their hands together to keep warm, we moved the party indoors into the living room- the only room that was decorated for the party in accordance with the Arabian Nights party theme. It was very minimalist decoration (due to lack of money, lack of time, not because I wanted to make an artistic statement): gold fabric over the windows, red tulle hanging from the ceiling, tea lights set up in nooks and crannies and window ledges and mantle, and red and gold mardi gras beads placed in cheap glass jars and vases to resemble an Aladdin's Cave type thing. Oh and quotes from "Arabian Nights" posted on the walls on computer paper. It wasn't much, but when we all moved in and it was dark and Will helped me light up the rest of the candles, the effect was really beautiful- at least in my drunken mind. Hurray for alternative states of mind.

The Here & the Now, Part I: San Francisco

The last weeks before I leave, I find myself in a flurry of activities, mostly getting together with friends for lunch, dinner, happy hour, and parties. These days, I am very much living in the present which is something I forgot how to do throughout high school and college because the only things I really thought about then was all the work I had to get done for school, due date after due date after due date. There are plenty of things I should be studying right now too, but all that has been trumped by the need to just hang out with friends for the last time before I skip off to a far-away land for a year.

In San Francisco, for instance, I got to see my cousins, and the highlight of the trip was no doubt Half-Moon Bay, a beach shaped like a crescent moon, crested by vertigo-inducing cliffsides and black rocky masses. I climbed one of the rocky masses that was sitting right at the edge of the sand, and upon reaching the top and looking down at the water, my heart started racing and I was immediately seized with terror and wonder at once. It was thrilling to be looking down at the waves crashing like thunder against the very rocks I was standing on. Water is scary when there is so much of it, but its mysterious depths also draw you like the Sirens.

The eating highlight was definitely the Chile crabs smothered in sweet chile sauce that we had at the Singaporean restaurant I think in downtown Stanford. I could have done without the crab, but the sauce was to die for. But actually, the true highlight of the trip was being reunited with Sarah again. There is no end to our silliness when we are together. Mundane activities like a trainride from Redwood City to San Francisco, or rock-paper-scissors suddenly become exciting and laugh-until-your-stomach-hurts hilarious.