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About julietafalavina

Eu escrevo da minha vida, e agora sobre a minha recuperação da saúde .

Volunteering in Thailand

The sun was stronger than ever this morning. I usually am very careful when taking my showers. As I have told before, I hate cold water! To my surprise however, I am not only totally getting used to the bucket bathing, but i am actually enjoying it a lot. There is something else quite strange about this place. It is like suddenly little things become quite delightful. I, for instance, love eating outside on a little wooden stool and washing my clothes by hand. Not many, just a couple inside of a bucket, lots of foam, the birds singing, the cool water, and my total inability to do it well. It is absolutely therapeutic. And it is not that i really need to, there is a very old and quite simple washing machine. But i just like to start my day having a bucket shower and then listening to the splashing of the water while i wash the few items i have worn the day before.

And then there is breakfast. Mind you, all of this before 7 am. Nothing hurried, nothing unpleasant. Almost a ritualistic morning routine. For breakfast i have the fruits of the garden and the region, which i will not even attempt to write the names, as many of them i have never seen before. And then we ride the scooter for 4 km into the little village until we reach the school.
Today it was once again PE day. Have i already explained about the colours of the clothes? On Monday they dress in blue and white, and the teachers in brown for the government, on Tuesday in pink for the king, on Wednesday they dress as scout boys and girls, on Thursday in black pants and red shirts for PE day, and on Friday in yellow for the Kon Khaen province. I guess it is a way to insure that kids change clothes every day. Thai people are very clean and usually shower twice a day. I really don’t see how to do otherwise in this heat, but then again in some other places people do.
Today, as we arrived in school, Horm told me ‘i am going to Chum Pae (a bigger village around here), wanna join me?’. Even though i have been here for a while it still surprises me how teachers can suddenly just leave the school and the students unattended. So, i said i would stay, and i was left taking care of year 3 and 4 on my own.

Picture this, i do not speak Thai and they do not speak English. In fact, nobody speaks English around here. I had absolutely no idea what to do, and luckily for me they were more than willing to help me by teaching me games we could play together. Everything here involves a lot of noise. So the games consisted in the kids either singing very loudly, or i had to write numbers on the board, divide the class in 2 groups and call the numbers out (a bit like bingo) while one person from each group raced towards the board to circle the correct number. I also made up a drawing game and they really enjoyed that.

As i teach them words in English they tell them to me in Thai. I cannot explain to you the laughter that is generated by my poor attempts in speaking Thai. In fact, I even suck in knowing their names. And when i ask them they give me nicknames, and then their names, and then something else, or just repeat what i am saying, or just say yes to whatever i said, which makes it impossible for me to know. When they say something to me in Thai which i don’t understand they think that by repeating it very slowly i might. If that doesn’t seem to work they try very loud. Then i go for help to year 5 and 6 to get Non Nan or Tangnoi. They come smiling and are very very helpful and always sort it out. Then i had to move to year 5 and 6, which were also left alone in school this morning, and they were also willing to teach me new games.


Lunchtime is also much better lately. Apart from the first day there was never again any hitting of the kids, and as i bring my own vegetarian food it is all fine. I never stay and eat with the teachers, i always go and play with the kids. So lunchtime is basically spent inside the classroom, where there is a fan, playing board games, singing games, clapping games, or just simply laying on the floor. Oh, i am also taking lots of pictures, and they love posing for them. In fact, so far, lunchtime and school time don’t seem to differ all that much. During the whole day in school there are kids who are not from our school, but always pop up to visit. ANd adults seem to come from everywhere, and teachers seem to disappear all the time. As you can see it is not at all what you might think of an Asian style school. The whole day there is lots and lots of laughter.

The Colours

The change in weather here is just fantastic! I am very sensible to light, so with no curtains in my room I wake up very very very early. Sometimes i cover my face and go back to sleep. But the first light is just “unmissable” as the sky goes red, and pink, and golden, and it is just sooooooooooo beautiful! Out of my window I see anything but green fields, and trees and the occasional buffalo. Then the sun goes up, while the temperature rises, the sky becomes completely blue, everything is bathed by light and then suddenly the wind blows, and the dark, heavy, clouds seem to appear from nowhere, and they suddenly burst, strongly, washing it all….it almost feels like a painter painting a picture on a canvas, shade by shade, tone by tone, detail by detail and then when it reaches perfection the painter tired with so much beauty just pours water all over it, and then starts all over again.

Everything seems more alive here. The storms, the sun, the clouds, and the animals. I sat today in the little straw hut in the garden, i was supposedly going to do some yoga but as I sat the wind blew, and I decided to instead pay attention to the sounds. the birds were just so lovely, that I dozed off. And when I woke up the sky was dark, not because it was night, it was just the “painter” tired again.

Have I told you about the geckos? They are “GINmormous!!!” And they make the funniest noise ever. And they are actually sooo beautiful. When i first asked what is that? as I was hearing a loud and strange noise, Non Nan ( Oh I go back to explain who she is in a second, in fact I will explain the name thing, which i finally get it!) took me by hand to show me… I followed her till she pointed to the wall, I looked and saw nothing, she placed my head in the correct position, and when I saw the size of the gecko I almost fainted.. it was at least 40cm. Do they bite? I asked? She said yes. Well, after one fell in my foot one of these days i lost part of my fear, and could observe from up close how beautiful they actually look. Nature that lively and noisy is not a total surprise to a brazilian, but geckos that loud, and big, and fat are 🙂 (at least to a Brazilian from Sao Paulo)

Non Nan lives here in our house. Her mother abandoned her when she was born, and her father does not care about her, so Horm ( I have all this time been misspelling her name it is with a M and not N) took her in. She lives here, goes to the same school where I volunteer and is quite lovely. Before I came to Thailand, one of my very dear friends in England, who is actually Polish, gave me two little books with pictures from Brazil, when I showed my surprise he explained me it was to show the Thai “nothing better than pictures when you cant communicate!”. I have written about how moved I was in my Blog, but only now can I actually understand how right he was! Only Maciek could think about that. I showed Non Nan as we can barely communicate, and you know what she looked at the most? Not the cities, not the people, not the beaches, but the fruits and animals. We have so many alike. I thought it was just beautiful to look at her looking so attentively to the herbs, and fruits, and animals, from such a distant continent and smiling when recognizing them. Non Nan is 12 and is in the last year of our primary school, she is the one who teaches PE. In Thailand parents are obliged to send their kids to school from when they are 4 till 15. School provides meals, and i guess a somehow nationalistic feeling, and some Buddhist teaching as we do go to temple and do a short meditation before school starts. I am in a part of Thailand called Isaan. It is in the northeastern part of Thailand, and I just learned that what they speak home is actually something much closer to Laos than to Thai. In school they learn Thai and English.

They have names and nicknames. And the calling thing goes as folllow: everyone who is younger than you you should call Non and then nickname. So for instance older people call me Non Ju ( sounding more like Non tchu) Everyone that is older you should call Pi. Non means little sister, and Pi older. So that basically means people always ask your age when they first meet you. If you are the same age you just say the nickname. I have been by the way been given a longer name : Kunkrun Ju ( Tchu) LaiArat, which literally means teacher Ju the lovely lady 🙂

The sky is going pink again, the sun is setting. I should not miss that.

Thai Dancing

The rainy season is usually frowned upon by many prospective travellers to South-East Asia. Only now however, do i understand how great an enormous storm in the middle of the day can feel. The weather cools off, the stuffiness of the air disappears, and it feels like you’re starting anew. The storms themselves are just great. Rain pouring down, blasting thunders, lightning that seems to divide the sky into a million different pieces. unfortunately, however, even now during the rainy season these storms do not happen that often. In fact, this weekend the Hae Tian (a candle parade) is going to be celebrated. A Buddhist holiday marking the commencement of the rain’s retreat. That is why yesterday in class we spent half of the day practicing Thai traditional dancing. It was mayhem in school. Out of the 4 teachers there were only 2. One had missed school because of the funeral of her mother, while the other had a wedding of his son. So instead of teaching 2 classes we had 4. It was quite nice to see how caring Thai kids are. A couple of older kids took care of the kindergarden class, while Horn and i stayed with grade 1, 2, 5 and 6.

As it was sports day everbody was dressed in blue pants and red shirts. I realised this time that in the beginning of the day, apart from the little meditation and Buddhist prayer, they also sing the national anthem while the flag is being raised. The PE class was taught to the whole school by three 12-year-olds. It was basically some kind of dancing aerobics. In fact they are crazy about music. At some point during the day Horn made them all sing different songs. It was surreal, and i wish i had had my camera with me to record everything. Inside of a little classroom, with lots of echo, grade 1, 2, 5 and 6 were singing on the top of their lungs, drumming on everything that was around. Horn sometimes even conducted them so that one side of the class, grade 1 and 2, would compete against the other side of the class, to see who sang louder. I cannot describe how loud this was! All i could think of was about the very cranky teacher in the English primary school where i volunteered. Not allowing the children to sing loud. Here the kids had lots of fun.

We also played games, and i was invited to play chess and checkers, and even a very modified version of monopoly where nobody ever gets too rich, and the bank is always paying you money whenever you stop at a place. When i had to pay 4000 Bhat and didn’t have it, a litle Thai girl paid it for me. When i had more money i paid her back, even though she didn’t want to accept it. Thai dancing was defintely the highlight of the day. Most kids sucked at it. But the few girls that were really good spent an enormous amount of time teaching me. The other highlight was when during lunch time the cook brought me two large turtles to show me what they were going to eat for lunch. I seriously almost fainted… My heart raced, and i felt the blood drain from my face, and i could not contain my shock. I obviously did not eat the turtle! As they all know by now i am ‘farang’ and ‘Te’ (vegetarian).

On the way back home (did i tell you guys we ride a little motorbike with sometimes 4 people on it) we had to stop by the teachers house to Way her dead mother. In a big room there was a very shiny coffin looking like a big box wrapped with golden paper. There were ‘Christmas’ lights all around it that twinkled the whole time. There were candles, flowers, insence, and i was taught how to Way the dead person. I knelt by the coffin, lit a big stick of insence, held it in my hand in a Way position, said a little prayer, put the insence stick in a pot full of other insence sticks, and bowed my head on a little cushion put there for that purpose. It was actually quite nice. As i wasn’t feeling entirely good at night i didn’t make it to the Thai wedding, which was a pitty. Today, there is going to be a Hae Tian ceremony in the temple here. And this weekend Horn is taking me to Ubon Ratchatani to watch the biggest Hae Tian ceremony on the whole world! I will let you guys know how that goes.

School

Today i was quite homesick for a moment. I am not sure if it is the enormous heat, the lethargic state i am in, the difference in food and habits, or what is probably just referred to as the culture shock 🙂 These lows come and go and i hope this one will pass soon…

My village, my very rural village, has according to “horn” (my Thai hostess) about 100 houses. From my house i can’t see any of those. I can see rice fields, a garden, a dirt road, and many different kinds of fruits and flowers. The school has 50 students all together. Every morning they stand in the patio while first the elder kids say some things in Thai, which is followed by Horn giving other instructions. Then standing up they put their hands one over the other with the palms up in front of their bodies. They turn towards the Buddha in the school and they silently make a little meditation in thankfulness to those who helped them. I was quite moved when i first participated in this little ritual. It is all very informal, not like you would maybe think of an Asian country. Apart from the meditation moment the kids move about all the time. After that they all go to their rooms and are told to clean them before the teachers come in.

The school is really very very simple. It has almost nothing, is quite old, but absolutely spotless. There seems to a very intricate system for calling each other, that seems to depend on your age, your social role, your family status, and combining with my lack of knowledge of Thai it becomes almost impossible for me to remember how to call each person.

I am for instance Kru Krum Tchu. Kru Krum means teacher, and Tchu is what they can make out of my name. There are 4 teachers in the school and each class has two grades, with no more than 10 students. Again, everything is very informal, kids run around, talk, sing, walk out, come back. The teachers answer their phones in class, walk out and leave for a long period of time. And i not surprisingly love this informality, as the kids seem very happy, even though they are very poor and mainly live with a grandparent, as the parents have either left, died or live and work in some other city.

Lunch time for me is nightmare… This is due to mainly two factors. First, i absolutely am not used at all to the food. I have in fact been eating very little lately. Secondly, it is the most shocking time for me, as my host who is most of the time friendly and laughing, and kind grabs a broomstick and walks around shouting orders and hitting kids for faults such as forgetting to bring sticky rice, not having their shirts tucked in, not having had their hair cut, and other minor things. I must say that she hits them very softly, and they don’t cry and don’t seem to have any real pain. But i being a total pacifist and completely against physical or emotional violence can’t help but feel shocked, and personally against it. Noticing my discomfort Horn explained me that it is the job of a teacher to teach her students. I didn’t say anything, as it is absolutely clear to me that she loves these kids beyond anything, and even has a couple of them living in her house. And after all who am I to judge their ways?

Most of my first day in school was destined to help two little Thai girls (Tangmo, 9 years old, and Tangnoi, 12 years old), prepare English speeches for the provincial English speech competition the next day. I spent most of the time with Tangmo who is the brightest and cutest girl ever! I was exhausted, and knowing very little Thai i could not figure out whether she kept going just because i was there or because she wanted it. I decided eventually to go check on Horn and Tangnoi and when i found them laying down on the floor laughing a lot i just joined them in a non-stopable exhausted laughter. Later on, the two girls came over to sleep at Horns place. They were thrilled about it! And we practiced even more.

The day after we went to the competition which was held in a big public school. Students from all villages around came to the competition. I was invited to be photographed with every government offical that was around. Being the only ‘farang’ (foreigner) around i felt every move i made was being observed. Everybody was enormously kind and friendly, and somehow puzzled that i was staying in such a little school. I should note here that my school is so little that it is not even in the Thai rankings. To the principal and Horn and my enormous delight Tangmo (the 9 year old) came second in the competition! The first girl came from the first/best school of the province. So, being second in the competition was for that little poor Thai girl and for our school the equivalent to a Nigerian getting a silver medal in the Winter Olympics. And i, thanks to Horn’s enormous kindness, got my own Thai certificate as an English Trainer for Tangmo! I must say, her success has much more to do with her brightness and amazing personality and Horn’s work throughout the years than my couple of hours of help.

So this is what life here in my little village has been like lately. I must confess it is not always easy for me to get adapted to the different lifestyle. I eat too little, can never figure out whether i have a fever or if it is just very hot outside. As i have said in the beginning I sometimes feel homesick, and have even become comfortably aquainted with Filomena, Genevieve, and Isabella, the spiders that permanently live in my room and bathroom 🙂 But even those lonely moments seem unimportant when i realise the profoundness of my learning, the kindness of my host, and the loveliness of the children. So every day when i ‘Way’ (the way the Thai great each other by putting their hands in prayer form and bowing their head) and i am ‘Way-ed’ back by always smiling people i feel enormous gratitude for being here.

My Rural Life

I am finally in my rural village and let me tell you it is indeed quite rural (with gigantic geckoes, and other quite loud insects). I was picked up in the bus station by my host mother, who immidiately hugged me and told me to call her “thai moma”. With her was a danish older guy who wants to live forever in thailand, a lady in her 40s who i later learned is a lawyer and the cutest 15 year old girl i have ever seen in my life. Before that, I almost missed the bus stop as the driver totally forgot to let me know we were in the right place. Lucklily i had asked a thai lady to write in thai the name of where i had to get off and my neighbour said it was there when i randomly asked about it.

Horm my thai hostess seems to be plugged in electricity. She NEVER stops! She took me around a quite simple market, and quite apauled by my vegetarianism tried to figure out what to buy. I felt slightly bad for it, but only till later as they had the famous bugs as snack when we were visiting a lake. She then took me for lunch and ordered an unusual vegetarian pad thai. The water is served in cups full of ice and I had no courage to tell them I wanted to buy mineral water. I just didnt drink. I thought of all vaccinations i did not take, I didnt not want to be impolite and silently wanted to kiss the lady in london who convinced me to take at least the vaccination agaisnt hepatatites A. “A least to avoid paranoia” she had said. It is quite esy to watch out what you eat as a tourist, as a guest, it is another story!

After lunch I was taken to visit this lake, i in my naivite put my bikini on, only to realize that they all bathe in full clothes. The lake was nice, the highlight were the buffaloes bathing on it, the thai kids with their motrocylce, and it reminded me somehow kusturica “white cat black cat” in its mess. I loved it!

After that they took me to an even more surreal place, a DINOSSAUR park. Seriously, i could not figure out really what it was all about, tons of concrete dinossaurs .I could not understand as my guest ‘s english is for me very difficult to understand. I think there was a dinossaur found there, and it became this strange park after.

From the park we went to a Thai Buddhist Temple. It was gorgeous, and silent, and clean place. We visited all of its corners, until another paranoia hit me. I was being bitten, and I am not taking malaria pills, and I had forgotten my repellent. Well, not really forgotten, just had no idea we were going to be gone for soooooo long.

In sum it was a fantastic day. My host is kind of crazy 🙂 she speaks and eats non stop, and is doing everything to keep me happy and well adjusted. For those of you who know how much I love a burning hot shower you would be happy to know i had my first ever bucket brownish ice cold shower 🙂 It was not that bad, at least not until I noticed the strange looking like insect in the bathroom. I remembered a dear friend who had told me to carefully “swing” my cltohes before putting them on, and thanks to him I was saved from close contact with some other strange thai creature. Apart from the adrenaline releases in my body I kept calm and did not utter a sooound. Again it easier to be a tourist then a guest 🙂

On my way to Thailand

I am once again travelling, and I am therefore once more sending collective e-mails… I mainly included here those of you who asked me to be included, and those who are usually interested in my travel reports 😛 If you do not wish to read about my wanderings in South East Asia please let me know.

For those of you who do not even know what I am talking about, well, I am in Thailand (finally), and I am going to be spending the next 3 months here in South-East Asia.

The plan goes as follows: for the first month I will be volunteering in a little rural village teaching English to Thai kids. I know, many of you are probably wandering how could I possibly teach English? Well, I guess they do not speak English well enough to realize I am not qualified 🙂 After that I will cross the border into Laos, travel around, then make my way into Cambodia to visit Ankor, fly to Bali, back to Thailand and the beaches of the south, and finally finish my trip doing a Vipassana Retreat ( 11 days meditating) in Chiang Mai. This is the plan, which does not necessarily mean I will stick to it 😉

I obviously have almost nothing to tell so far as I have just arrived a couple hours ago. It was however already an interesting trip. I flew via UAE and got to be in a bathroom full of older muslim ladies dressed exactly alike doing “ablutions” ( not sure how to spell tat). They were from Indonesia and had quite flowery dresses. It was so surreal the scene. Tones of oler women all wet, throwing water all over, the bathroom lilke a pool, a lot of noise… I wish I could have taken a picture but I guess that would be quite strange and maybe offensive. There was also an western blond lady quite angry with the commotion in the bathroom. Seriously the woman is in MUSLIM airport and was acting like she was above it all….

Another highlight was being screened through UAE customs. It was a kind of XRay to see if you have the swine Flu ??? everybody had to go through while some employees wearing masks wacthed the video. I was greeted by a UAE officer who looked like Sayid ( from Lost) and actually said ” Hello Love!!” . It is my second time in this airport, I stopped there when I went to India last year. The airport is entirely different. I could not figure out whether I was in a new place or whether they are just addicted to renewing. Probably the latter. It is a great place though you get to see those Saudi in full white “djelabas?”, and women in all kind of different muslim attire, as well, as westerns in mini skirt. To add to the surrealism of it all, the ablutions, the prayer room, the westerns, the police, I had to also fill in a form stating whether i had been or not in contact with mexicans 😦 americans or canadians in the past month!

At the airport in Bangkok, in fact it was not that different.. there were tones of Asians wearing those hospital masks, and all the staff as well, just us the threat were unmasked 🙂 It is incredibly hot here, and at 7 am I was already burning. I am exhausted, so i guess I ll try to nap during the hottest hours, and then I have to go actually buy appropriate clothes to volunteer…..

Full Circle :)

I leave Istanbul in a few hours, and even harder to make it here, is to go away. I arrived almost 2 weeks ago, and exhausted as I was I ended up in Nesli’s b-day party in a little cafe nearby Nese’s house. Last night we went back there, so that I could meet my new friends and say goodbye. It felt like a full circle, there I had my first turkish coffeee read to me, and there I had my last. Lonely Planet would probably not agree that I have been to Istanbul as I have not gone to a Turksih Bath, or to the Grand Bazar, or even to the Souleimane Mosque (it was closed), or many of the other Turkish experience “essentials”. I did do some touristic things, I visited the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Sistern, Sulthanmet. But what I enjoyed most however was walking the random streets and learning about the life of the people I encountered here.

Not the life as we sometimes imagine abroad. Not the veiled and conservative life. I met the activistists, the gay community, the artists, the architects, the painters, the yogis, the musicians. I participated in a body awareness and dance workshop and not understanding the language made me so much more aware of it all. All the while listening to the traditional turkish music and observing how diferently bodies from other cultures move than mine.

I was in numerous cafes and bars. The coziest places I have ever been to. Places like those that you only find if you know someone who knows the secrets of the city. As they are always hidden in little streets, behind staircases, taking an elevator. These places are magical, as behind mysterious doors they exist just a few steps from your awareness. So making it to these places, following those who know them is an adventure in itself. It’s like being given the chance to see other worlds that exist without you knowing about them. And there seem to be so many different worlds co-existing here.

I will write more later. Now i would just like to say that Istanbul for me are the people I encountered. And in this crazy interaction of people making the place, and the place making the people, I found out a lot about me. As when far from what is known looking inside is easier. So amidst a lot of smoke, an enornous human warmth, a contradictory tolerance to difference lies Istanbul. Like that, divided between eurpe and the Middle East. Between the liberal and modern, and the conservative and religious. And by crossing from one side to the other, observing, enchanting, keeping to itself so much of those that pass by here this crazy city creates itself. And I feel that in this incoherent, dichotomous place and space I exist.

Henrique’s Farewell

Last night I went to the farewell party of a dear friend. One of those people who modify the world around. Someone who causes conflicts, intrigues, conversation, controversy, and for that reason will not go unnoticed. I didn’t even meet him that many times while he was in London. Our conversations were most of the time political. The two of us fighting for an ideal of justice.

Yesterday, at his farewell party, I cried. Not a sobbing cry of despair, but just tears that overflowed at seeing time passing by. A light crying, touched by seeing the world change. And the world, of course, changes all the time. Some events, however, make it more evident. Looking at our discussion forum, and not having seen Henrique’s well-written opinions lately, already anticipated what London would be without Henrique, an emptier London. Even if Henrique was not part of my daily life.

And last night, as I looked at the dozens of people that went to say goodbye to him, I couldn’t help but think about the life of all of us travellers, immigrants, and wanderers of the world. I could not help but think about how difficult this process of saying goodbye is. How difficult it is to restart in every single place, of becoming someone in relation to the other, and then having to leave, or see him/her leave. It made me remember when my flatmates, Leila and Joss, left the house and I was left alone in an empty apartment in New York. It was the same feeling, the feeling of the end of an era. Life as we lived did not exist anymore.

I always run away from these feelings, from these rituals. I didn’t go to graduation parties. I did not care about weddings. Moved countries when my friends were graduating. Not that I was not able to understand the functions of a ritual. But maybe I thought that because I thought I understood, I was beyond them. Yesterday, however, looking at Henrique leave, watching him moved saying goodbye to the people who were his life here, I knew how important these rituals were. Important for all of us. And I allowed myself to cry, because to say goodbye is not easy. Not for the ones who stay, nor for the ones that go. And the beauty might even lie in there: that it is not easy. If we were to leave countries where we lived for years untouched, without a drop of suffering, that would be quite strange. On the other hand, the end of an era always marks the beginning of new times. Resisting this is an enormous waste of time. But to pretend that we do not suffer is also silly. The importance of the ritual is exactly that: of marking. Marking this transition that is not easy, not insignificant, to mark it symbolically.

Last night it was marked. In a bowling lane full of Henrique’s friends it became evident how many people he touched while he was here. How many people transformed him with their ideas, their presence, and their behaviour. And I confess, I thought about not going. I dislike farewell parties. It is much easier when a person leaves without us noticing it , at least it seems easier. But I did go. And today, when I woke up, I thought about Leila and Joss. We should have made a party, a farewell party. Because a farewell party does not celebrate leaving, but our encounter with the other.

Published in Portuguese January the 17th 2009.

Europe or Middle East ?

Last week was really fascinating. I did so many things that I don’t know where to start. My only English friend Andrew (the one who took me to yoga) is the son of a Lord. And so I ended up going to see the Parliament with him last week. We had the privelege to see the House of Lords in session, learned about a million rituals, histories and stories, and even had a drink in the ‘Peer’s room’. The following day, following up with the ‘fabuleux destin de Julieta Falavina’ (as a friend of mine would say), I went to do something completely different. I posed for a Russian painter. This was an experience that should be told in more detail, as for someone who has taken a million classes in (post-)feminism, orientalism, to be suddenly on the other side of the coin, was quite revealing… As I said before, this is worthy of another post.

In this post I would like to talk about my dear friend Nese. My Turkish friend, who studied with me in Holland, appeared unexpectedly in London last week. It had been years since I last saw her. And encountering her was without a doubt the nicest thing that happened to me lately. Her visit was brief, as she had to go somewhere else as well. But it was just amazing to have someone over who had actual informed opinions about all the texts and books that were lying around in my house. It made me remember how I met her.

On my first day in Amsterdam I went to register for the university, and as I queued up the first person that caught my attention was Nese. She was radiating and beautiful, and she seemed like a little bee flying around all over the place. She laughed, speaking French to one, English to another, and in a language I didn’t recognize to a third person. I watched her for a long time, because Nese is like that, captivating. I remember thinking that I wanted to meet her, as she seemed a very nice person.

So when a couple of days later she appeared in my civil war class, I was very happy. I even became more enthusiastic when I heard her speak. She had very well constructed and original ideas. I heard then that she was not officially in my class. She was just joining it out of her own interest. But even so, she was the person who read the most, participated the most, and had the most interesting questions. One day we were told we had to do a presentation, and even though she was not officially part of the class, she decided to do it. And she chose to do it about the same organisation as me. I was ecstatic, as I would finally get to meet her. We set up a meeting, and when she arrived and started to talk, I felt she knew more about the organisation than the president of the organisation himself. And I who already thought I knew too much for the 15 minute presentation was dazzled by how much she knew about the organisation, its projects, and even the countries where the projects were. In sum, she knew all there was to know. When she told me she didn’t feel quite prepared, I could not hold my laughter, and we became friends immediately. I told her that I had wanted to meet her since the first day of school. And she told me that the only reason she chose that organisation was so that she could meet me. We laughed!

We did a million things together, while we were in Amsterdam. Well, in fact, she did billions of things, and I followed her in a few. I tried to calm her down every time she was delirious not feeling prepared for something. I got amazed at seeing how many activities she was involved in, and I learned a lot about Turkey. Since then I have been trying to go to Istanbul, but for some odd reason there was always something that kept me from going. So when I got a call from Nese this Thursday at the painter’s studio saying she was at the airport, I couldn’t contain my joy.

We met close to my house, and she was the same. Thinner, but with the same joyous face. We hugged, just as if we had met the day before. It was all the same, even if everything in my life had changed since we last saw each other. All the same, even if she had been through depressions, diseases, difficult relationships, desperate thesis, annoying jobs, it was all the same, even if she lost her enthusiasm about her PhD, about academic life, about art. As we hugged nothing mattered, and all of this didn’t make a difference.

She enters my house and sees Abu-Lughod on the couch, and starts talking about the ethnography of the Bedouins. She looks at my Bourdieu book and tells me I should read it in French: the English translation makes almost no sense… I become hyper, just like that; I, who don’t even care reading about Bourdieu, I who have not even read about the Bedouins. I do know however, that when Abu-Lughod sets out to study the Bedouins and finds them living a ‘slum-like life’ she becomes disappointed, feeling that they are not real Bedouins anymore. She then realises that for them what makes them Bedouin is their blood. That everything around them can change, if only they are able to preserve their ‘essence’, all that is external does not matter. It touches me enormously to think about that. It is the metaphorical ‘internal’ that matters.

Nese invites me to come to Istanbul. I tell her I am afraid, as every time I have a ticket something goes wrong. Haiko tells me to go, at least to end the superstition. I agree. After all, it is not difficult to convince me to go on a trip. I agree. After all, I have never been to the Middle East. I say that out loud, already anticipating Nese’s response:

“But Jules, you know we are Europeans, right?”

We laugh. We laugh a lot! Let it all change. Let all concepts change. All the frontiers, all the continents, all the countries, all the categories. Let me visit the Lords one day, and pose for a Russian painter the other. Let me study social science, do yoga, meditate, or wander around South-East Asia. Let me travel the Middle East in some people minds, while being in Europe to others. Let’s change it all, but let’s keep the essence, let’s find the essence, and when we do, let’s celebrate it.

A piece of Cake

I know it has been ages since I last wrote, and I do have a million things to tell. However, a million things to tell easily turn into none at all 🙂 I spent a month in Romania, and I am flying tomorrow to India.

In this post however, I want to talk about a simple and beautiful encounter I had, as I was volunteering at Amrita, a shop that belongs to the Yoga school I go to. I was there trying to learn playing the Tibetan singing bowl, when an old lady came in. I helped her settle down, and left her on her own so that she could look at the books in the shop. After about 1 hour, she chose a couple of books, and brought them over to me. She told me in quite a strong accent that they seemed wonderful. I explained her I had not read them yet, and not containing my curiosity asked her where she was from.

She inhaled deeply, looked straight into my eyes and said “I feel like a citizen of the world. I was born in Poland, but because of the war we became refugees. I asked her whether she was Jewish, and she explained me that she was not (which reminded me once again that many other people also suffered). She explained her father was a doctor that opposed what was happening so they had to run away. The lady was very old, she spoke with difficulty and sweetness at the same time, and once again I felt as if I was entering someone else’s memory, visiting another time, another life.

They went to Russia, they had no money, everything was difficult, and the war was everywhere. Then they made it to Palestine and then to Iran. And I who am fascinated by Iranian culture did not miss the chance to ask her about it.
Her eyes inhaled, went far away, looked inward, as if she had decided to travel there, to that time in history, to visit a place that she had left a long, long time ago. And little by little she started to speak.

“I like Iranians very much! I remember that I was young, we had no money, but my mom decided to take me to Teheran to a cafe. There were many cakes in the window, but we could only afford a glass of milk. The cafe was empty. Apart from us, there was only a gentleman sitting on the far side of the room. We sat at the table so that I could drink my glass of milk and I noticed that the gentleman suddenly stood up and left. As he disappeared the waiter came to our table carrying a tray with a piece of cake on it. It had been offered by the gentleman that had just left. The gentleman had seen me, a little girl secretly desiring a piece of cake, and guessing my wish he had bought it for me. In order to avoid any misunderstanding, or make us feel uncomfortable, he left before the cake reached us.”

Quite moved she smiled, and I knew she was carefully visiting that moment, looking at the cafe, her childhood, her mom, the kind gentleman. I felt quite honoured to share that moment to be there looking at the table, seeing the cake, staring at the girl in her little dress, her joy. In anticipation, and before she took me there I imagined the sweetness in her little mouth, I imagined her tasting very slowly and carefully each little piece of the cake, savouring it carefully, sharing it with her mother. I could see the happiness in her childish eyes… but then she continued.

“My mother was very touched by his kindness, but she could not accept it. She said no thank you, I am sorry but I cannot take it. And as I am telling you this, I feel a lump in my throat. It was one of the most beautiful moments in my childhood. To think that that Iranian man saw me, a little girl sitting with her mom, with no money and he just wanted to make me happy touches me. And that is how I remember Iran, and Iranians. They have the face of that gentleman who wanted to bring me happiness.”

And as I heard her speak I was touched beyond words. First, because I could imagine how much this little girl probably wanted that cake. But suddenly I realized something deeper, that what remains in her mind are far more important memories than that piece of cake. She remembers the dignity of her mother, and the kindness of a man who wanted to bring her joy. And it became clear that the cake did not matter so much. The dignity of her mother, and the kindness and compassion of a stranger are much sweeter, more profound and lasting memories.