Where in the world are peterdianebeckystevesarah?

Fancy a dance, ladies?

2011-08-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

Friendship Sandwich

2011-08-06T13:44:00.000-07:00

Amidst all the changes happening in Georgia and its great progressive strides, there is something distinctively non-Western about Tbilisi. Culture aside, the city is still not instinctively accessible. In my experience (a disclaimer that should probably proceed every sentence here), if you aren’t from here, you’ll probably need help getting around, at least at first. I wouldn’t feel comfortable, for instance, landing at the airport, picking up a rental car and cruising around the city. It is the kind of place where people pick you up at the airport.

Paid travel, even budget-NGO travel, is quite a different experience from real shoestring budget travel. Not taking public transportation to and from the airport is kind of amazing, as are budgeted airport meals, nice to very-nice hotels, having a justification for buying wifi other than witty facebook updates. But, I can feel it’s making me travel-soft. When faced with a free night in Tbilisi, I found myself thinking- but, but, how will we find a restaurant? Or order without a Georgian escort? 2008 Becky-in-Armenia would scoff at this new incapableness. With a free weekend on hand, I decided to head down to Yerevan for the weekend on one of the minibuses.

The cities are only about 4.5 hours apart, but the train takes an inexplicable eight hours and flights divert through Istanbul. So minibus it was. They are dirty and smell musty old cigarettes. My friend negotiated my fare and made some phone calls for me, including to the Armenian friend I was meeting, and then we said goodbye. I got the seat next to the driver so as to protect my delicate constitution. Although the driver spoke about 4 languages, none were the 1.3 that I lay claim to, so we resorted to dramatic gesturing. The first important thing, of course, was to put my seatbelt on. The only problem was that the seatbelt didn’t work. It was so broken that they had duct taped something heavy to the end to make it stay, and putting it on involved slinging it across my body and snuggling it down into the seat. Now I can’t be sure why the driver was so adamant that I put on my fake seatbelt before we left, but he was. This leads me to think that maybe there’s some financial penalty for not wearing a seatbelt that might be vaguely enforceable. For anyone who read my 2008 posts about driving in the region, this is nothing short of incredible progress toward vehicular safety. Baby steps, baby steps.

We’re in the minivan cruising to Yerevan, and the driver is really maximizing our time together by simultaneously texting, changing the music, smoking a cigarette, and driving us through windy mountain roads. Thank goodness for the seatbelt. I got quite worried because we got stuck at the border or an extra two hours and I was very late for my Armenian friend to pick me up. My phone stopped working in Armenia and I wasn’t sure how I was going to find her. But on wild adventures, these things happen. I would use my wits to figure it out. We finally pulled into Yerevan and I hopped out to see my friend waiting for me! I was very happy to see her and after a hug or two, I asked if she had been waiting long. She asked why she would have been waiting, and I said because we’re two hours late, of course. She laughed and said, “Becky, I’ve been texting with the driver since you left Yerevan.” Oh.

The weekend in Yerevan was lovely. We didn’t do much but laugh, talk, and catch up. And eat! Both nights we had elaborate meals that started around 12:30 am. On Saturday night, her family came up from the village. At the dinner table, the conversation flows quickly and easily and there wasn’t much time for translation. Her family is so wonderful and loving, it’s a pleasure to just sit back and observe. The next morning, I was wedged in between her grandmother and uncle from the village, munching on leftovers for breakfast. I noticed that they had matching large, deep purple bruises. When I asked what happened, they launched into a long story about how ornery the bull was yesterday.

On the way back, I found myself in the front seat again. A woman leaned over the back seat and handed the driver a homemade sandwich made from lavash and dried meat. The bread was from a grungy bag and the woman’s hands were filthy. Next, she handed me a sandwich. It was such a sweet gesture but I was thrown into a slight panic trying to decide if I’d be able to stomach a few bites of the dirty, weird meat sandwich. Images of pure frozen yogurt and clean salads raced through my head. But this here was friendship rolled up in a smelly little package. I took a couple bites and it was surprisingly good. Then I passed back the rest of my bag of cherries.

Tbilisi, Revisited

2011-08-06T13:32:00.000-07:00

Becky here, signing back into Ullmans on the Road* after a nearly one and half year hiatus in which I graduated from law school, spent three dramatic months studying for the bar, the next four months flopping about in search of a job, and finally moved back to DC with a fantastic job working on international NGO law in the NIS region.

We recently started a new project in the Republic of Georgia and I’ve had the opportunity to go back twice so far, and there are more trips in the future. (Side note: I’ve been sent on five business trips in my career thus far- three to the Republic of Georgia, and one to the state of Georgia, and… one to Ohio.)

Thus far, the job has been…capricious. There have been some serious highs; times when I think I’ve landed the job that I always wanted, doing interesting things that matter in a field I care about. There are also times when I feel like I can’t do anything right. I’ll save my more detailed complaining for emails and phone calls (many thanks to the recipients) but will share one of the happy times.

In Georgia, we are working on the sustainability of the NGO sector. In an otherwise progressive country, NGOs remain dependent on foreign grants for over 90% of their funding, and foreign funding is not a long term solution, especially in Georgia. While it remains a darling of the West, funding for the region decreases substantially every year. Our goal is to identify the causes of this dependency and how they can be fixed. After meetings with NGOs, charities, and government officials, our first stop was the tax code.

The happy time came on the first night of the most recent trip. My boss and I were preparing for meetings the next day and revising the analysis we had prepared. We sat on the 18^th floor of a beautiful hotel in Tbilisi with a panoramic view of the city. Sipping on tea, we waded through the tax code…. It was really great. Seriously. There’s something puzzle-like and satisfying about wading through definitions and cross-references to figure out what’s there…or what’s not. But don’t ask me about VAT because that stuff is wild.

I last left Tbilisi in 2008, approximately 3 hours before the Russian tanks arrived. I followed the events of “The War,” as people there call it, with concern from Istanbul and Mykonos. I knew that the conflict left a lasting mark on the country’s diplomatic interaction with Russia, but upon returning I was struck by how very deep and cultural it is. Most notably, Russian, as a language, is gone from Tbilisi’s exterior. There are no more signs in Russian, not on store fronts, in shops, road signs, or newspapers. It’s still engraved on buildings like the Opera, but apparently that will soon come off as well. As we drove across a bridge that was decorated in Soviet symbols fashioned out of steel, my friend told me that there is a new law that requires the removal of all Soviet symbols, and so the ornamentation on the bridge will be removed as well.

Taking the place of Russian is, unsurprisingly, English. It’s everywhere. And it’s no longer a country in which I would hesitate to just start a conversation in English without first asking. Of course fluency of this kind isn’t something that happens in two years- Georgia’s western orientation started long before that- but this most recent push both toward English and away from Russian is truly remarkable.

A side effect of this push is a division between the young and old. Simply put, the old speak Russian, the young speak English, and everyone in between speaks varying degrees of both. With such a pronounced shift away from Russian/Russia, I worry what happens to older people who do not speak English. They are cut out of a large part of the economy and as evidenced by the many elderly people in the street, the state struggles to provide adequate social services.

Then there is the reference to “The War,” a reference without identifiers. Like Madonna or Bono. Technically, the conflict in 2008 lasted 8 days. In no way do I mean to slight the seriousness of what happened or the tragedy of lives lost, but it does pale in comparison to say, World War II. The War, combined with the global economic crisis, put a stop to the hundreds of large-scale construction projects throughout the city. The construction sites remain quiet.

It seems these efforts to erase Russian are like the final steps in ending the abusive marriage between Russia and Georgia. Georgia is taking back her maiden name, dating other superpowers. She’s lost weight, bought some new and fashionable clothes, but struggles to regain the financial stability she had when married.

*Thanks to Sarah for the suggestion to hop back on here, ie the “BLOG THIS” email.

San Francisco, somehow, by some miracle.

2010-04-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

I'm in San Francisco for my final interview for the Compton Mentor Fellowship. You all know how I like to keep things interesting, so I forgot my money/ID/everything important in my car. Luckily, Thrifty people were nice enough to deliver it to me at the terminal. Yes, I know…definitely a miracle.

It’s been wonderful, though. I’m sitting in the small Eden that is the Fort Mason community gardens, well-fed from a Moroccan lunch and a vanilla/peanut butter (obviously) frozen yogurt from a place called the Loving Cup (Chi O, anyone?). And I’m reading Philip Roth. Blissful and better than rainy Boston.

Fort Mason community gardens. I am sitting here!!

My interview was this morning. Having studied interviewing all year, I can say that the interviewers did some good things: they made me feel comfortable and they asked thoughtful questions that forced me to expand on both my idea and myself. I can only hope that I held up my end of the bargain.

If I don’t get the Fellowship, though, I’ll be content in knowing that whoever did deserves it. The other candidates are amazing. One kid, Nathan, is working to stop mountaintop removal. He’s from the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky—I’ve never met anyone from that area of the country so I’m fascinated and could listen to him talk for hours.

Laura is working on a documentary theater project with an organization called Seeds of Peace (http://www.seedsofpeace.org/). She’s an actress who did a thesis on modern adaptations of Medea. I think it might be the only senior thesis that I’ve voluntarily asked someone to send me. There are actually a lot of people here who feel the same way I do about the arts and specifically theater. If they get the Fellowship, I want to help with their projects too!

We visited the Exploratorium yesterday, which I enjoyed despite being deliriously tired. Highlights included the mind section of the museum, where there was an exhibit that scares you and then films your reaction. Enjoy:

I might have to leave my heart/stomach/mind here in San Francisco. Seeya Tuesday? (Heartless, stomachless, mindless).

Love,

Palace of the Arts near the Exploratorium

Cheesecake at The Greens restaurant. Best meal I've had all year?

Outside Fort Mason, where we're staying. My interview was in the warehouse on the left.

Recent Happenings

2009-10-29T14:01:00.001-07:00

I spent a day wandering around Rotterdam with some new friends. Had a delicious lunch at an organic, seasonal restaurant that gives cooking lessons and then went to a museum with a very long name. It had a fantastic collection of traditional and modern art. The city itself is unlike the other cities I've visited here because it was almost completely destroyed by the Nazi Luftwaffe one night in 1940. The result is a much more modern feeling city, and in many ways similar to the feel of American cities. Rotterdam used to be the biggest port in the world until it was superseded by Shanghai in 1994.

This picture is from a nautical themed costume party in Den Haag. I was a captain and made my crew do the most fun thing I could think of- human pyramid.

Cultural Differences Thursday: A Trip to the Gym

2009-10-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

The longer I'm here, the more I lose my 'eye' for what is different in the Netherlands but every so often I have a day where I'm reminded that we aren't in Kansas anymore. For instance, a trip to the gym. The sports center kind of like a big YMCA with unfancy locker rooms and a big gymnasium. On a recent visit, the following occurred:
- picked up a pamphlet for a 'pole fitness' class,
(http://www.services-facilities.leiden.edu/sport/sports/pole-fitness.html)
- walked by the university tanning booth,
- ran on the treadmill while no less than 4 different girls hopped on the treadmil next to me for about eight strenuous minutes, most of them wearing black reebok sneaks that do not look much like running shoes. This means that I am by far the sweatiest person in the gym,
- did not wait in line for the stationary bicycles, of which there are about 40, (how can the dutch need MORE bike riding?)
- thought about grabbing a beer at the gym's bar,
- nearly ran into a wily rooster, wandering about right outside the doors,
- got a nose full of the pot as I rode by a coffee shop on the way home.

Also, the recently installed an art exhibit in the halls of the law school. Theme: female nudes.

My bike

Rio or bust!

2009-10-22T15:07:00.000-07:00

Last week I went on the annual 'Rio Trip' sponsored by the European Law LLM program at the University to Strasbourg, Luxembourg, and Brussels. It was a total school field trip complete with buses, hostels, and constant counting of people, but it was a really great experience. The trip was led by a Leiden professor who had excellent contacts at all of the seats of European government and got us in to all of the institutions and to meet with judges, diplomats, and high ranking officials.

Our first day in Strasbourg began with a visit to a concentration camp outside the city. It was my first visit to a concentration camp and I was quite overwhelmed. It's one thing to read about it, to see the pictures, but a very different thing to actually be there, to touch things, to look at the same woods, sky, ect. It was a cold, grey, and rainy morning and I ended up in the bunkers at the far end of the camp by myself, at the bottom of a big hill with no one even within shouting distance. I saw the crematoria, the rooms for 'medical experiments', the autopsy chamber, the solitary confinement cages, and the torture chambers with floors tilted so the blood could drain more quickly. There was something about being there alone that took away what little 'museum effect' cushioned the experience and I was very shaken.

We got on the bus and headed out of the mountains and back into the city. As we did, the rain stopped, the clouds lifted and it was suddenly a very symbolically nice day. We went straight to the European Court of Human Rights, a direct outgrowth of the World War II and the Holocaust. We saw the inside of the courtroom, spoke with a judge and two lawyers who work as clerks for the court (though the system is different). We walked over to the Council of Europe and heard a bit about the political manuvering that goes on behind the scenes and then ended the day with a reception at the residence of the Permanent Dutch Representative to the Council of Europe.

On Tuesday I got up and visited a French court of first instance for a little bit, then we all went to the European Ombudsman office (boring name, interesting job), then to a european television station, then on to Luxembourg!

On Wednesday we went straight to the European Court of Justice where we watched of first instance trial about ompetition law and state aid in Slovakia. Luxembourg is beautiful but strangely situated city- it's spread on either side of a steep ravine. We walked up to old city for dinner and saw that the original protected fortress was actually situated very well for defense.

On Thursday we started in Brussels and visted the European Parliament, Commission, and Council of Ministers over the next two days. We also had some really interesting presentations on the Lisbon Treaty, the application of Turkey for EU membership, and EC policies toward immigration and asylum.

While the trip was great, getting back to our lovely little apartment with bedrooms with doors, large, private bathrooms and a squishy couch was a definite highlight.

Strasbourg, or the German part of Disneyland?

Natzweiler-Struthof Concentration Camp

Inside of the European Court of Human Rights, designed by the same architect who did the Pompidou Center in Paris. The concept was that justice should be transparent, just like the structure of the building.

At the European Court of Human Rights

ECHR Member State Flags

European Court of Justice, Luxembourg

Beautiful Brussels

The beach!

2009-10-22T14:44:00.000-07:00

I took a ride to the nearby beach a couple weeks ago and it was stunning. The dunes rival those in Provincetown (and you know how much I love those). We stopped for some tea and apple cake too. Not a bad day.

This picture does not do justice to the beautiful dunes, but taking pictures while riding is advanced bikeriding and I am only in intermediate.

The country that is low.

1574 Siege of Leiden as interpreted through electronic music

2009-10-22T14:10:00.000-07:00

The weekend of October celebrates the city of Leiden's defeat over Spanish invaders. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Leiden) The city was preparing all week with an enormous carnival (Big E size), huge tents for outdoor performances and beer gardens, and lots of balloons! On Friday night the streets were absolutely packed with people at the carnival, overflowing from the bars, dancing to djs in the street. On Saturday morning, this usually pristine city seemed a little hungover with bottles, cans, bursted balloons and garbage in ther streets. The highlight of the weekend was the parade which, as previously mentioned, was themed 'American Dreams.' It was very funny/weird to see what non-Americans see as the essence of America. There were Pilgrims (who originated in Leiden), immigrants and a Statute of Liberty, Presidents Clinton and Obama (and Bush who had to sit inside the car and not wave), a Mississippi steamboat, Indians and cowboys, AMISH, Hollywood, movies, and Titanic (?), paperboys on bikes, a gospel choir, school bus and Ronald McDonald, High School Musical, a basketball team and scantily clad cheerleaders, and a Vegas scene. Some of the people around us realized we were american and turned to see our reaction at each new float. I suppose if we insist on dressing the dutch in wooden shoes it's only fair that we are associated with the Amish, steamboats, and Ronald McDonald.

Boats with their party lights on

One of the most remarkable parts of the weekend was the party our next door neighbors threw. One of them is a DJ and plays hardcore techno from 2:30-5:30 nearly every day (professional training?). However, this day was not like all others. They had a little shindig that started at 1 pm and lasted until 1 am. That, my friends, is a whole lot of techno.

What a difference an awesome president makes...

2009-09-30T15:38:00.000-07:00

If you ever had any doubts about what the election of Barak Obama has done for the reputation of Americans abroad, consider this- Every year Leiden celebrates October 3rd as the the day they overcame Spanish siege in 1574. Every year there is a big parade with a theme and this year's theme is "American Dreams." And in fact, they asked for Americans to walk in the parade waving American flags. (and not as targets for rotten tomatoes) Having been in London in 2004, I find this nearly incredulous. I won't be in the parade, but will be marveling at what one spectacular election can do.

Balsamic glazed steak-red pepper-red onion- tomato dinner salad fixins

Antwerp!

2009-09-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

Took an impromptu weekend trip to Antwerp last weekend. It's a beautiful city just a couple hours away in Belgium. Surprisingly, I was very excited about the food. We got in pretty late on Friday, wandered around and found a cute little square with outdoor cafes, perfect for italian food and Belgian beers. On Saturday I dragged everyone around looking for Belgian waffles. Those Antwerpians are rather particular about when they serve these delicious treats. A couple places said waffle time was only from 2.30pm until 5.30. This is to be distinguished from pancake time, which extends until 6 pm. Did some walking around and saw the magnificent cathedral, an ancient castle, and some windy streets. And, then! For the main event, we sat in beautiful square and ordered huge pots of mussles with frites. Went to a medieval bar for a drink- very realistic. One Sunday we went to a fashion museum and then the National Art Museums and saw some Rubens.

Train Station

Rubens

Happiness I

Belgian Chocolates

Happiness II

Main Square

Leiden

2009-09-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

Evensong on our canal

Botanical Gardens

The Pilgrims' Church, before they left for Amerika

Rembrandt's Birthplace, bulldozed for condos in the 80's, but there's a plaque!

Some Dam Pictures

2009-09-23T13:40:00.001-07:00

Post museum stretching

Domesticity

2009-09-23T13:23:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy couple weeks. My classes here are considerably front loaded. Come November I'll only have two classes (and a 50 page research paper but who's counting). But for now there is lots and lots of work to be done, some of it catch up, some of it trying to make sure I pass! Failing classes is a regular occurrence here, even for the best students. There are make up exams and plenty of people re-take classes two and three times but clearly there's no time for that. Brie and I have spent lots of time in the apartment studying, cooking, and playing each other songs on youtube. Last weekend we went to a cozy little bar on Friday night and then Amsterdam on Saturday. It was a really fun day. Walked and walked and walked. Went to the Rijkmuseum and saw some historicaly paintings. Then had dinner at a delicious Italian hole in the wall. Then, yes, off to the Red Light District. Boobs everywhere. We were early so it was still family hour- lots of respectable looking people and tour groups. I read in the tour book that people are shocked at the juxtaposition of the red light windows and the magnificent church smack in the middle of the area, but geez louise, at one point they were not more than 20 feet apart. I also thought it was interesting that a lot of the 'girls' were talking on their cell phones while prancing in the windows. How does that conversation go?? I think we are headed to Brussels this weekend!

We are contemplating getting cats...

Bikes and Markets

2009-09-14T05:56:00.001-07:00

Brie and I got bikes! I was pretty nervous at first because I don't count bike riding among my many skills. And because everyone is on a bike, it's very much like driving a car- dedicated lanes, traffic lights and rules. But it is super fun and very convenient.

My bike vendor, who coincidentally hate bikes and doesn't own one.

We spent some time at the market last week- they have a big one every Wednesday and Saturday. Stacked up on some wildly stinky cheese and nutty breads. On Saturday we had some tea and snacks while people watching. Mine was a whole apple, rolled in cinnamon and baked into a pastry. Not bad?

For my parents

2009-09-12T02:50:00.001-07:00

First day of 19th grade

To Dad: Exhibit A- The Wolky Shop, where they sell things to walk with. The Dutch, unlike the English, are very good at naming things.

Out and About

2009-09-12T02:37:00.001-07:00

We've almost been here a week and I have to say it's been a rather tough one. I got here after classes started because I needed some time to get myself together in Connecticut, but it's made moving in, finding classes/books/computers/printers/libraries/grocery stores/cell phone stores/lightbulb stores, and trying to apply for jobs a little trying. Made a lot of progress this week and it seems like things are starting to fall into place. In other news- it is early to mid October weather here! Some days are beautiful and sunny but we've only had one really warm one.

Our canal

Across the street from school

Darling, I don't know how to tell you this but there's a Chinese family in our bathroom

2009-09-12T02:24:00.000-07:00

Brie called it the first day- we live in Ikea! As someone who heartily enjoys Ikea, this is ok by me! We seriously lucked out with a great place, all due to Brie and no thanks to the University. It's cute as a button, fully functional with a pretty good kitchen, dishwasher, a huge, squishy couch and TV with a couple english channels. It's a hop, skip, and jump from a lovely canal and about a 12 minute walk to school (soon to a 5 minute bike ride!).

From 500 Days of Summer- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLUp6pZsC_U

Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens...

2009-09-07T13:12:00.000-07:00

These are a few of my favorite words...

Pijnboompitten- something to do with pine nuts

Wim Bonis- the "male secretary" of the Criminal Law division

Canals, Bikes, and Love

2009-09-06T04:02:00.000-07:00

Back on the road!
(this is Becky)

I'm in Leiden, Netherlands (about 20 minute train ride outside Amsterdam) for the semester, studying law at the University of Leiden. You say: Isn't study abroad for college students? Aren't you a little old to go tool around Europe under the guise of "study abroad"? I say: Apparently not (x2).

The American Bar Association approves certain programs for law school students to spend a semester, or even a year, at a foreign law school. Benefits include learning a bit about a civil law system (versus US common law) and not being in Hartford (not in brochure, but a real game changer, for sure). Also there's the whole cultural interaction bit but that's for the softies. Anyways, third year of law school is mostly to take the classes that you want to take and to get a job. The classes that I want to take happen to be over here, and let's face it, my job search abilities are not stellar so I might as well fumble around over here, right? Right. Add to this picture that one of my besties Brie, and another Uconn friend Chris, decided to go to Leiden as well and we are in for an fun semester.

Brie and I wound up taking the same flight over and it's a damn good thing because I might have lost it being alone. Together, however, we redefined the term, "hot mess." I overpacked (shocker) in two large and unwieldy rolly suitcases. Brie, while a super packer, neglected to put it all in a suitcase with wheels so she had to carry her single but super heavy bag. This meant we could walk about 20 feet before having to take a break. Also meant no stairs.

We got to sit next to each other on the plane and watch cheesy movies all night until about 1.5 hours from Zurich when we tried to fall asleep. We were a liiiiittle tired and bedraggled for the rest of the trip. Made it from Amsterdam to Leiden in one piece, but only in 20 ft spurts. We had trouble finding our real estate agent once we got here, and, at one very low point, we were in an internet cafe- homeless, phoneless, exhausted, starving, and a little chilly (and there was one hair sticking straight up out of my ponytail).

But that all changed once we got in touch with our adorable real estate agent Chris, who rolled up to the apartment on his bike and in sweatpants. He let us into the apartment, and oooh! the Leiden chapter begins. More next time!

Morocco vs. Spain

2009-04-06T04:02:00.001-07:00

These bunnies are NOT for eating.

I went to Barcelona for spring break and ate more salad at an all-you-can-eat vegetarian restaurant than I have ever eaten in my entire life. I missed lettuce.

I found the perfect metaphor for Spain vs. Morocco: on las Ramblas in Barcelona, they have lots of pets for sale: birds, fish, ferrets and bunnies. The bunnies are all snuggled up together and very cute. (see above)

I had just arrived back in Morocco after lots of haha, rabbit food, when I saw another bunny on the street, snuggled in a box. After a short conversation with the man selling it, I realized that this bunny is for eating. Oh, Morocco...

Chefchouen

2009-04-06T03:43:00.000-07:00

I went for a hike in Chefchouen, a tiny mountain town painted blue. It was the first time in Morocco that I felt truly at peace with my surroundings, my situation, and just...everything.

Languages, schmanguages

2009-03-17T08:20:00.001-07:00

Almost every educated person here is a polyglot. Here are the languages most of my professors/homestay family speak:

1. Derija (Moroccan Arabic)
2. Fusha (Classical Arabic)
3. French
4. English
5. Tamazight (or Tashelhit or Tarifit...Berber dialects)

Some people also speak:
6. Spanish
7. German

(depending on where you are in the country.)

This is all very intimidating at first, but in the name of education, I have tried not to let it bother me that I am supremely ignorant and just soak up as much as I can. Hence, I have had quite a few interesting linguistic/lingual experiences here in Morocco.

The first few weeks I was here, there was a European film festival in Rabat. I saw 5 or 6 European films (Polish, German, Belgian, etc.) but subtitled in French.

I do not speak French.

Undeterred and desperate for some Western culture, I took in the films and slowly discovered that I can kind of read French due to some combination of Spanish and English.

Recently, I connected with the only theater school in Morocco called ISADAC (and luckily in Rabat). A very famous Moroccan artiste invited me to come see his show. Which was all in Derija. I understood just a tiny little bit, but I think at one point during the one man show the actor looked at me and my Dutch sister Marthe and said, "Fahemtee?" ("You understand?") I think I shook my head no, but I was so surprised that I actually did understand his question that I can't be sure.

In another incident, I have recently discovered that the reason my hair is so gross is because I have been washing it with conditioner. Hey, the label on the bottle LOOKED like it said shampoo.

Last night, my homestay sister Marthe (a Dutch student doing research on gender issues in higher education) asked me to help her translate her research questions from Dutch to English. Her English is very good, but this was a matter of technicalities. Are "gender expectations" in a given society about individual gender roles, how the sexes interact or both? It took a while, but we hashed it out. I now know the Dutch words for "gender roles" and although I can say it, don't ask me to write it.

Finally, as most of you know, I am a creature of habit. I discovered that the hanoot (little grocery store) down the street makes sandwiches. I go every single day to have a variation of the sandwich I have at home. Here it's tomatoes, onions, avocado and cheese. Because I'm now a regular, I've made friends with the guy who makes my sandwich every day. Hassan jokes around as he cuts up the cheese because I always ask for "fromage rouge" and he always says, "It's not fromage. It's cheese!"

Today, Hassan finished making my sandwich and asked me something in Derija. It was too fast for me to understand so I asked him to repeat it and he did, in English. He said, "In Arabic, this is called a sandwich. In English?"

"Um...sandwich. Yeah. Sandwich."

Languages, schmanguages.

Prophet's Birthday

2009-03-13T05:49:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile, I know. I'll make up for it, I promise.

This past Tuesday was the Prophet's birthday, a huge holiday when extended family gets together, eats a ton of food (mainly cookies and candy) and celebrates. I spent the day at my homestay aunt and uncle's house and it was really fun--but caused my first wave of intense homesickness since being here. Seeing the extended family talk and laugh made me miss my own family so much.

Also, intense sugar hangover. I watched my homestay uncle put 10 HUGE cubes of sugar (four times the size of normal ones) in ONE pot of tea.

My homestay cousin has a pretty voice and everyone made her sit down and sing for us!

A little taste of Moroccan family life.

Love you!

I'll come back if I don't die

2009-02-16T03:52:00.000-08:00

"Inshahallah" or "God willing," is hard to get used to. It's a saying used for anything that you want to do or will do, for example...

Me: "My mom is coming to visit me in April!"
My host mom: "Inshahallah."
Me: "No, I mean, she already booked her plane ticket. It's really happening."
My host mom: "Inshahallah."

AND

This morning, I said goodbye to my host sister: "See you later!"
She replied, "Inshahallah."

It puts a whole new spin on your day...as you walk out the door, you wonder, who knows if you will actually see someone later? It makes each time crossing the street and almost getting run over slightly more thrilling.

In my Berber culture class last Friday, we learned that literally translated in Tamazight, "God willing" is actually "I will come back if I don't die."

Touchè.

At home in Morocco

2009-02-12T09:29:00.000-08:00

At home in Morocco...

Saad (he's shy) and "The MSN"

Living room

Smile!

Marthe and Karima preparing the tajine...

Visions of Marrakech: Part V

2009-02-11T03:53:00.000-08:00

Chez Ali, a touristy Medieval-Times-ish (but Moroccan) dinner and show. Complete with a whole lamb on our table that we named Rupert after some people ate his kidneys (not me, clearly), a sparkly belly dancer, a flying carpet on a wire, fireworks, lots of horse tricks and many near horse disasters, and absolutey amazing fruit.

Did I tell you about the fruit? Sweet, perfectly ripe and confusing for English speakers (orange=leemoon, lemon=citron).

Visions of Marrakech: Part IV

2009-02-11T03:49:00.001-08:00

The Atlas mountains!

Visions of Marrakech: Part III

2009-02-11T03:47:00.000-08:00

A greyish brown monkey tugging very violently against his chain and the owner tugging very violently back.

Visions of Marrakech: Part II

2009-02-11T03:43:00.000-08:00

The snake charmers in Djama el Fna. Apparently they sew the mouths of the snakes closed so they don't bite tourists. They die after a few weeks and have to be replaced. This is the best shot I could get without paying for it!

Visions of Marrakech: Part I

2009-02-11T03:42:00.000-08:00

The inside of a hotel room. I was sick with food poisoning for most of the trip.

Sad!

Who wants some culture shock?!?

2009-02-09T03:34:00.000-08:00

The hammam is the public bathhouse, a beloved tradition here. I was told it was a place for women to get together, relax and talk for hours. I was pumped to go...

You walk in and EVERYBODY IS NAKED. And staring at you. It's kind of an industrial operation, so you strip down quickly and a woman (also naked) comes over with a huge bucket of water and pours it over your unsuspecting head. She grabs a grommage and literally scrubs your whole body like you're two and it's bathtime. A few more buckets over the head, some hair washing and lots of exfoliating, and then...it's time to go.

I went with my Dutch sisters Arwen and Marthe (who are also visiting students doing research) and my homestay mom Karima. Karima didn't go inside, except for a few appearances in which she was fully clothed and I was smooshed on the floor being scrubbed.

Kiiinda embarrassing. Kiiinda like NQR minus the cover of darkness (or the snow).

Mmmm so this is what they meant by culture shock!

MSN

2009-02-04T04:52:00.000-08:00

Sihame and Saad are addicted to MSN the way I was addicted to AIM in 7th grade. It is their lifeline, to their friends and any romantic (cyber) encounters they might have.

I'm talking obsessed--I'll be checking my email and if someone messages Sihame, I have to stop typing immediately and let her respond. She speaks with her friends in transliterated derija, with 3 as the 'ayn and 7 as the haa.

Once, Sihame used my phone to call her boyfriend and tell him to go on MSN! (Phone calls are expensive here...) She was very sophisticated on the phone and giggly after...she reminds me of me or any of my friends after talking to a cute boy for the first time. In some ways I can completely identify with her and in others I feel almost sorry for her; Sihame is 20 and in a few years she will be married but her only private communication or interaction is through MSN.

In Contemporary Moroccan Culture, we're studying the effects of the media on the new Muslim public sphere. It's fascinating that the internet provides access to members of the opposite sex for Moroccan teenagers; any other interactions are at school or parent-supervised. It is at once very private and illicit and also very accepted (her parents definitely know that she talks to boys on MSN). It's changing what is acceptable in a Muslim society.

Here's a question: is MSN-ing acceptable during Ramadan? Does chatting on the internet break the fast? Apparently some girls in Saudi Arabia asked the oulema (religious scholars) there. Any ideas?

Sarah

A small victory

2009-02-04T04:51:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, after my host father finished praying, I asked him to tell me about Islam. He explained the five pillars and their significance...in derija.

I understood!

Ok, don't laugh...

2009-02-01T05:06:00.000-08:00

For those of you who know me very well, this will be very funny.

Remember those days at the dinner table when Steve would touch my plate when no one was looking and after that I couldn't eat...because it was germy? And no one believed me! It's all he had to do...

Well, the eating situation here:

Moroccans mostly eat with their hands. There's a big communal bowl of food and you eat from that. Lately I've been getting my own special dish (along with the baby, Ayman) that is "son viande" or "bla lahm." Before I think my host mom tried to sneak beef into my food, until she realized I was serious about this whole no-meat thing. At first, though, I didn't want to be disrespectful so I ate what I was given.

I'm gonna come back a different woman, I think!

‘ayndee sooaal? N’aam! (Do you have a question? Yes!)

2009-01-19T11:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I found myself on a very tragic toobees (bus in Derija) bound for Sihame’s University. After about an hour from Rabat to Sale, we arrived. I started to walk to the entrance but Sihame stopped me and explained, “We wait.”
Waiting was more like a chance to see and be seen! Just like on Mohammed V, we stood around, preened, laughed too loudly and pretended not to notice the boys on the other side of the street staring us down. Occasionally, an emissary would be dispatched from the boys and would shake hands with each girl and chat about something I didn’t understand. The handshake was firm but no eye contact was involved…a little bizarre after being stared at for 20 minutes.
As each girl arrived, she gave the typical Moroccan greeting: a kiss on each cheek, even if she didn’t know you, which again, takes a few times to get used to. Finally, we went inside.
I thought class started at 1:30, but we got to the classroom around 2, which was fine, Sihame assured me. The teacher (of Rights in the Workplace) was waiting with the rest of the students, but nothing happened for another half an hour, during which the teacher stared out the window, played on a student’s mobile, and casually wrote something on the board. Eventually, we collectively decided to play a game: hot seat!
A chair was set up for the purpose and at first I assumed the questions were academic, until Sihame told me that her best friend Hind had been asked who is her enemy in the class. She also answered questions about her personality flaws (she acts “like a man”), what she wants to do (“police woman”) and who her best friend is (“Sihame, of course!). My turn in the hot seat came and I answered questions about why I was in Morocco, what I study, etc.
A boy raised his hand and asked, “Have you heard Muslims are terrorists?” I took a deep breath. This is the kind of thing I came here for: to have this kind of conversation and learn from it. Everyone smiled and relaxed after my answer but tensed up when I answered the question about countries I’ve visited: the list includes Israel. The last question: “We want to know what you think about Gaza.” Sihame stood up and said something very fast in Derija and the girl responded, “It’s just a question! Just a question!”
It ended there, but the teacher said, “The class enjoys this because you have confidence and you talk with your hands! This means you are honest.” Although I can’t put too much significance on my own actions, it’s important to me to represent the US well while I’m in the Arab world.
The second class was equally as puzzling, although in different ways. It was a class about Accountability (?) but Sihame and all her friends peaced out half way through because they were bored.
I’m not sure, but I don’t think this experience is typical; we had a workshop on the academic differences between the US and Morocco and I was under the impression that Morocco is more strict and formal, but who knows. Whatever the case is, I made a bevy of new friends so it was a good day. I start class of my own tomorrow…at 8:30 AM!

Love,
Sarah

Homestay, sweet homestay

2009-01-17T12:39:00.001-08:00

Today we packed our bags, left the hotel and went HOME (to our homestay). I’m living with a family of five: Mohammed, the father, Karima, the mother, Sihame (my age), Saad (16) and Zoubida (10).

Sihame kissed me on the cheek three times (I was a little startled) and held my hand right away (again, a little startled). We went home and then went for a walk. The walk around Mohammed V Avenue is a big event. It’s kind of like a parade. The girls dress up, the guys dress up and you go and look at each other but pretend not to. Girls must link arms.

My homestay father, Mohammed, is very helpful! He’s trying very hard to help me learn Arabic/Derija. We had a conversation last night that was some combination of Arabic, French, Spanish, English and gesturing. My head hurt but at least we came to understand each other. He has a warm affect and will be a good interim father while my daddy is back in the States.

All in all, I’m really lucky. I have my own room, internet (although it’s Ethernet, not WiFi) and some friends already.

Homestay, sweet homestay!

Sarah

Hshuma!

2009-01-17T12:38:00.001-08:00

Men gawking, catcalling and groping is a big problem here. Being a Western woman, I stick out, especially when they hear me speaking English. I’ve never gotten so much negative attention in my life! You just have to walk with your head held high and pretend you don’t notice.

However, today I learned a few things to fight back. Hshuma, or shame, is a very strong cultural term here. If you say “Hshuma!” it means “Shame on you!” or “Your mother would be ashamed!” Losing face in front of other people is the worst form of hshuma for Moroccans. The word is also accompanied by an optional gesture: pulling the lower eyelid down.

The next time someone tries to touch me I’m going to turn around, pull BOTH lower eyelids down and say “Hshuma!” very aggressively. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Sarah

Barak allah ofeek!

2009-01-17T12:36:00.000-08:00

Derija (Moroccan amiyya or dialect) is hard. It’s a combination of Arabic, French and a little bit of Spanish. I’ve never taken French so when everyone else oohs and ahhs in delight at the Derija word for pen “stilou” which is also apparently French, it’s a little frustrating! Somehow I managed to get placed into Intermediate 202 for fusha (Modern Standard Arabic), so we’ll see how that goes.

The only reason I can remember the above Derija phrase (“Barak allah ofeek”= God’s grace upon you or thank you) is because of Barack Obama! I’ll be sad to miss the inauguration but they said they would let us watch it at the AMIDEAST building on Tuesday.

However sad I may be to miss the inauguration and the NDN party that Simon Rosenberg invited the Tisch Scholars to, I’m excited to be in an Arab country when Obama takes office. I know I’ll have some interesting interactions, like when we met Mid.

I was walking with a few friends through the medina (walled part of the city), exploring the souks (markets) when Mid and his friend Braheen started catcalling us. We were with a friend Stefan, who has a surprising amount of Derija and can have full conversations with Moroccans, so he stopped and went to talk to the two men.

It turns out that Mid was absolutely wasted (after two bottles of vodka) but this made him very expressive. He told us about his ladies pajama shop (“I tell old women I am closed but I tell young girls to ‘Come in little babies!’”), how he lives alone and his girlfriend in America (he can’t remember her name exactly).

Then he went on to say, “I am a Muslim living here and you are from Amreeka, so I should hate you. But I don’t! I don’t care what you do, because you are like me, you have friends, you go to school, you work, I work, I have friends. I don’t care about the politics. They lie.”

Political Islam has lately been making inroads with the young population because of the lack of jobs. It was my first encounter with someone who had apparently been touched by this ideology but rejected it.

On our way back, Mohammed V street was clogged with protesters—supporters of the Palestinians in Gaza. I’ll refrain from a discussion of the conflict here (although we are constantly having good discussions on it with people in the program) because there’s no way I could come up with a comprehensive statement on my views (nor would I want to on Ullmans on the Road!) Suffice to say they told us to avoid crowds even though the protests are nonviolent. Being an American still has some significant stereotypes here.

The next day we went to the beach! The view from the Kasbah Oudaya is amazing; there are sea walls with waves crashing over them and hundreds of couples crowding the sand and the walls. When you get closer, however, it’s a little sketchy. The sand is full of trash and it’s clear that no one takes care of it. We were talking about a beach cleanup as a community service project when we stumbled upon two dead dogs lying in the sand. That put an end to that conversation pretty quickly.

Once we were safely on the sea wall, it was magical. The waves were so huge and as they crashed against the wall, water would drench anyone not on the far side of the path. As I watched the waves, all I could think about was how much Ben would have loved to go surfing here.

Love,

Sarah

Morocco, alhamdullilah!

2009-01-11T15:22:00.000-08:00

As I headed into security with mom waving, I don't think I've ever been more terrified to travel! It wasn't the location (which some might cite as a reason for concern), worries about staying in touch (not usually a problem for me...I always find a way) or even the language (I'm eager to learn.) It was the amount of time. I'll be gone for six months, half a year, January until July.

The first unusual thing I noticed in Morocco: the long robes with pointy hoods that men wear. They're called geballahs, although to this inexperienced, United States-born eye, they look kind of like KKK robes but in pretty colors. Needless to say, once I found out they were made of wool and perfectly normal (no political/racist statement involved) I knew I had to get one! I mean, they are like JAMIES worn in PUBLIC. I think this could be very popular back home. Kind of like the Snuggie/slanket but with a hood.

We visited the Roman ruins of Chellah today. A few guards were posted, but mostly there were no rules. We climbed all over, through staircases and down into the baths. There is both a King AND a Saint buried there, but according to Mohammed, the Academic Director of AMIDEAST Morocco, their descendants are not in power and hence cannot take care of their graves (...I'm not sure the descendants know who they are because these guys ruled in the 7th century.)

The current King's palace was right across the road but at Chellah it was the cats that clearly dominated. They are every different color and they stalk the walls and grounds of Chellah as if it had been their city all along. I counted 14 in one small area by the Saint's grave and only because I was stuck for a while; they kept slinking around my legs and fighting each other so I had to stand still. It reminded me of that Cat vs. Dog diary in which the dog is happy to do anything and the cat is plotting the overthrow of the masters. Clearly achieved that goal here.

It's cold here. The coldest it's been in 30 years, they say. My Arabic is slowly creeping out of the cobwebs and I'm enjoying the people on my program very much. Tonight we ate a fantastic Moroccan homecooked meal at one girl's homestay family, (she had been here last semester and is staying on with her family this semester) got henna tattoos and watch Moroccan musicians and dancers.

While four men in full traditional garb sang, played and danced for us, one of the children of the family, an 11-year-old Moroccan girl, played a P2P computer game about three feet away. Talk about a meeting of the old and the new, the ancient culture and the developed world! Kind of like how many of the poor families here don't have running water but they have satellite TV.

I was worried about the length of time, but when I got here I was introduced to the concept of Moroccan time. There are buses here, but no schedule and no one really knows when they will come. There are appointments made but it's not uncommon to be late because you were enjoying some mint tea with a friend. Time is a relative thing. It's relaxing. It's starting to rub off on me.

Sarah

Third Star the the Right and Straight on Till Morning

2008-08-15T03:20:00.000-07:00

I spent most of my time in Armenia with girls- Arpine, the girls at Albion, ladies at work, Larissa Markovnah, Kregg’s wife. Georgia proved to be a different story. I pulled into the train station and was met by Irakli Torua, who is about two feet taller than the average Armenian guy. He drove me to Irakli Saralidze’s house, where I stayed. We had some eggs and then loaded up the SUV to head out for some rifle practice with Artur and Tengis, Counterpart’s driver. Lucky for me, I was wearing my best pink rifle practice skirt.

During my stay, I felt like Wendy to the Lost Boys of Tbilisi. They clearly do not spend much time with women and are sometimes like a group of goofy 15 year old boys. I did some dish washing, shirt ironing (only because I offered and then insisted), and tried to explain why I could not finish my liter-sized beer at lunch. Or why I was satisfied with just one full quail for dinner.

I ended up spending all three days in the office catching up on Counterpart work and recruiting nonsense but was driven around the city at night by Irakli T., who thinks we may be in love.

Heading to Istanbul today to meet Joey and Kristin, then on to Athens where we will find Nora, then Mykonos, back to Athens and finally home via London and New York.

Bangarang!

iMetaphor

2008-08-15T03:16:00.000-07:00

At the beginning and end of each work day, I look forward to what I’ve come to think of as comfort music. Being able to put on my ipod and tune out the hustle bustle of the streets is fun. The soundtrack to Yerevan, as dj’ed by moi.

(It also helps me tune out the small man in army fatigues guarding the State Assembly who makes hideous kissing noises every time I walk by. I am about 5 inches taller, maybe about 15 pounds heavier, and I think we are looking at a 2:1 thigh ratio that does not come out in your favor, amigo.)

So I was pretty upset when I slipped on the sidewalk and fell onto the hand holding the ipod. The screen went all white with pretty rainbows, but otherwise it works fine. I can skip forward and backward through the playlists, but I never know exactly where I am or what is coming next.

As I sit on the Soviet train to Tbilisi that inexplicably takes 14 hours when you can make it in 4 hours in a car, sitting next to my new friend, the 70 year old pot-bellied man who has just taken off his shirt to sleep in our cozy little compartment, I hope you will indulge me for a minute.

Perhaps life in Armenia, the developing world, on the road, or anywhere away from a place you can comfortably call home, is a little like an ipod with no screen. It’s the same song no matter where you are. What’s different is your ability to see the menu, and control it like you would at home. But with a deep breathe and a little relinquishment of control, my favorite song still comes on, eventually. And surprise and happiness it brings when I finally hear it is a greater reward than if I were to be able to pull it up on a whim.

Hearing the same songs that I listen to in my apartment, my car, while running (figuratively because we all know I quit actually running in late 2003), is at once comforting and homesickness-inducing. In this same way, being so far away from home makes the world feel smaller on one hand, and never more vast on the other.

I’ve felt many times over the past two months that there is nothing new under the sun. Sure, there are new sites to see, people to meet, food to stuff my face with, but we are all engaged in the same basic activities- family, friends, work, births, deaths, holidays, Sunday evenings and pizza, it’s just the script is different. But at the same time, there is never, ever a place that that can fulfill what ‘being home’ does. And accepting this, that as much as you adapt and grow to love your new environment, it will never be home, is what makes the world feel so very, very big.

The Namesake

2008-08-15T03:14:00.000-07:00

The place where Larissa Markovnah and Arpine work is called Albion and it’s an English language school. It seems that they only hire pretty, young girls (because you have to be nice looking if someone is going to pay attention to you for 2 hours!). Each one is hand-selected by Larissa Markovnah and the result is a gaggle of sweet, ambitious and lively girls. Each one has an English persona- Arpine is Susan Smart, Lucine is Tina Trust, Anna is Melanie Bright, and Mariam is Betty O’Bryan. A new girl started during my stay and guess what her name is? Becky :)

The Soviet Union Called and It Wants It Train Back

2008-08-15T03:08:00.000-07:00

I decided to take the train from Yerevan up to Tbilisi to visit some old Counterpart friends. Armen, our driver, took me to the train station to help me buy a ticket. The train station was like being magically transported back to Armenia, or anywhere else in the Soviet Union, 20 or even 50 years ago. The building is huge, with cathedral ceilings and marble floors. There are statutes of a workers, stars, and abstract scenes expressing ‘unity.’ It could be quite grand with some paint and elbow grease but now it just seems neglected.

The first time we went, we waited in line for 25 minutes while the cashier helped the person (one person) in front of us. When it was my turn, we stepped up to the counter and the woman promptly turned the sign to close and got up to leave. We were all of 2 feet away for nearly half an hour but she didn’t feel any need to tell us she was leaving for lunch.

We came back the next day and joined the ‘line,’ which forms in a radial radial rather than linear fashion. Armen and I stood in the heat, occasionally rolling our eyes, watching the lady sell tickets. The process involved writing names down in an old notebook, the kind with the black and white marbling on the front. Then she would look at the seating plan, a packet of stapled together papers, and write your name on your seat. Then she took a booklet of tickets, and this is the part that really killed me, and cut the ticket out with scissors, like making a paper snowflake. No ticket would be complete without a stamp so she picked some special letters and numbers out of the box and loaded them into the ancient machine, like you would with an old fashion printing press. And with that, I was booked for Tbilisi.

When I look good, I feel good

2008-08-15T03:06:00.000-07:00

When I packed for Armenia, I packed business casual, both for work and play. Modest skirts and work appropriate tops for the week, modest skirts and tank tops for the weekend. I also brought a couple ‘fun’ shirts in case there was a big night out, and some suits in case there was a formal meeting. I can safely say that I was the most conservatively dressed person in the office, possibly in the under 40 population of Yerevan.

The cleavage here is out of control. Plunging necklines everywhere, 4 inch heels on the dusty cobblestones, and just yesterday I was walking behind a woman who had a gold outline of a thong stenciled on the outside of her jeans. My suits stayed in the suitcase, but I was still the plain jane, simple sally, feeling a little silly in my button up shirt and khaki shirt.

Sometimes it is hard to keep in mind that Armenians, in general, are not very promiscuous, well, at least the women are not. We were at a case law training one weekend and there was a woman who was doing particularly well in all the competitions. It was very hard for me to hear what she was saying though, because she looks and dresses very much like the hairdresser from Legally Blond, also the same actress who played Stifler’s mom in American Pie. The jury is still out on whether she’s had plastic surgery or just looks very much like what all the plastic surgeons try to make women look like. But she wears the most outrageous outfits. Like beaded halter tops with and visible bra straps made out of tiny rhinestones, periodically gathered in heart shapes, and a short skirt covered in zippers. She had big hair, long nails, and long dangly earrings the size of a child’s fist. And she totally kicked ass at appellate brief writing. I also found out that she is a public defender and probably the only person in the history of Armenia to get a criminal case outright dismissed by citing ECHR precedent.

A little digging discovered that this trend toward the scandalous is a relatively new development, and in part a reaction to the fall of the Soviet Union. I was told that during Soviet times, there was a code of modesty enforced. Nothing more than hand holding on TV, and very little public sexiness. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, the sternness lifted, and voila, porn on public TV at 8 pm. (but still no pre-marital sex). Women also felt more free to dress how they pleased. At the time there was no where to go at night that was socially acceptable. Clubs were for strippers and drunken men. So the women started to dress sexily when it was socially acceptable- during the day. I suppose if I had no nightlife, no chance to get all dolled up and feel attractive, I too might look for a shorter, tighter, gaudier business casual. But I draw the line at rhinestone bra straps.

Last week I realized how far I’d come when I decided to wear one of my ‘fun’ shirts to the office. Everyone loved it.

Running on Empty

2008-08-15T02:56:00.001-07:00

There’s a beautiful monument in Yerevan called the Cascade that is about a quarter mile of straight up stairs. Because running on streets would be an exercise in self destruction, I got a little work out by trying to run up the stairs. I looked like a really eager tourist at them bottom of the stairs and someone finishing a marathon at the top. The view of Mt. Ararat and the city at the top of the Cascade is definitely worth it.

Legal English, Oxymoron?

2008-08-08T02:20:00.000-07:00

I realize that I never finished describing the rest of the ABA project or what exactly I am doing. Besides the Criminal Law project, there are several others:
Judicial Reform- keeping track of the judiciary, introducing case law, putting together the Legal Reform Index .
Legal Profession- working with attorneys to create professional societies, like the ABA, conducting trainings, grant writing.
Legal Education- working with law school students, introducing legal clinics in the regions, more case law

Case Law Training

Elections and Outreach- during the very controversial elections last spring, ABA was very active doing monitoring trips, responding to legal problems on election day, and supporting citizens who wanted to bring their election-related cases to court (a very brave few souls). The Outreach program had a grant to produce the ‘Alphabet of Law,’ which are colorful cartoons and programming aimed at educating children about the legal system and their rights. The program also produces a monthly newsletter describing all the legal developments that happened during the month.

My big project was teaching a Legal English class to Armenian attorneys. I really wasn’t sure what to expect and was given very little guidance on what I should teach and how I should conduct the class, but I think it turned out well in the end. Attendance varied a lot, often depended on the weather and tapered off as we got closer to August, but there was a core group of four people who came every time. We had a lot of fun together. We covered federalism, Boumediene v Bush, Loving v Virginia, the US Constitution and Bill of Rights, and corruption of the judiciary (the difference between making a bad decision in good faith and making a bad decision in bad faith). A former prosecutor from Brooklyn was working at the embassy and came to all the classes so it was nice to have someone who knew what he were talking about.

What I thought was really remarkable was how explaining the basic concepts of our legal system to someone else can make you understand it better yourself. All those Con law classes where I was half playing Snood and half counting minutes somehow seeped in and it was only in explaining the Constitution to someone else that I really understood what Magill was talking about.

I did some other cool projects- like summarizing ECHR decisions so that Armenian lawyers can easily reference them when arguing for things like confrontation of witnesses and bail for criminal defendants. I did some less exciting but still interesting jobs like editing the newsletters and monthly admin reports and updating the office policy manual on things like tax laws and severance packages. I also helped out a friend of the USAID director in an international child custody case.

I really liked the job this summer but unfortunately, finding a real job abroad with ABA doesn’t seem very hopeful. When ABA sends American attorneys abroad, their value added is their legal experience practicing law in the US. I’d like to skip this step and head straight for the good bits. But it seems like I’ll have to pay my dues somewhere first.

The underground music scene is so.....literal.

Heart of the Matter

2008-08-08T02:15:00.000-07:00

When Arpine talks to me about love and dating, she talks about looking for her ‘other half,’ the one person in the world who completes you. At parties, there is always a toast to those who have their ‘other halves by their sides,’ and best wishes for those who have yet to meet him or her. My co-worker who is a translator referred to this person as ‘one’s beloved.’ In America, when we talk about love and dating, we are rarely so honest or graphic about what it is all about. In fact, hearing this reminds me of the Sex and the City episode where Carrie pretends to faint after Petrovsky buys her a Chanel dress and takes her to the opera. Like biting into something so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

But why the cynicism, I have to ask myself. On one hand, my impression of young married couples here is that it mostly involves holding hands and looking sullen. And living with your parents, or his parents. There is also the problem of a ‘ruined woman.’ Men don’t want women who have taken a stroll around the block once or twice, so experimentation or divorce are definite nonos. It seems to me that all this leads to the incredible pressure to find the one, your other half, your beloved. You’ve got one shot, so you better do it right (or else you will be living with your mother for the rest of your life).

In my brief experience, this leads girls in their 20’s (you are only a woman after your wedding night) to be very, very picky about whom they choose to do the friendship with. It also leads to the curious and critical look in peoples’ eyes when I tell them I’m here alone, single and not actively looking. Ahhhhhh, to have traveled half way around the world, alone, self-demonstrating my independence, only to wind up in a place that views independence in girls my age as something akin to a lazy eye.

So, cultural differences aside, still- why the cynicism? I’ve seen lots of real love- my grandparents, my parents and even my friends (most often while wearing a heavy satin café/champagne/mocha colored dress). But for some reason, the other half/beloved talk makes me think you need to suspend reality in order to swallow it. What, exactly, are the details of ‘ever after’? He is still your beloved if you can’t stand the way he, oh I don’t know, leaves clothes all over the floor?

I can already hear the answers to these questions- that real love isn’t about perfect compatability, so on and so forth. But I think the minute you start making compromises to prove that he is the one, you are perched atop a slippery slope. If you forgive/accept/deal with this, why not that? And once you start making deals with true love, how do you know when you’ve talked yourself out of a bargain?

I may sound pessimistic, but I don’t think I am, really. Conversely, I think love, or maybe marriage, is all about the little compromises and deals, all done in service of the motto, ‘Better with than without.’ I don’t think it’s an easy feat, finding someone whom you are always better with than without. But it seems to have very little to do with this idea of divine intervention and ‘the one.’

Apples are from Kazakhstan; vegetarians clearly are not.

2008-08-01T02:51:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in an internet cafe in London across from the Borough Market. It is a small victory that I actually got here...after delays, bag issues, somehow ending up in Prague, getting lost with all my luggage after coming out from the Waterloo station at midnight (hey, things have changed around here!) I am finally enjoying all that is London. Amanda Greenwood is coming tomorrow and we will spend a whole week here going crazy, having fun and being dorks together. I walked along Southbank today and couldn't stop smiling; life is good.

Kazakhstan. So much to tell!

Firstly, let's get this out of the way: "Very niiiice! I liike!" or "High fivee!" I got it out of my system on the plane ride over (while I was sitting next to and making friends with the Ukranian Olympic fencing team) so that I didn't offend anyone. They HATE Borat. It's tough because it is really the only reference most Americans have. Most Americans would never have encountered or thought of Kazakhstan in their entire lives if it weren't for Sascha Baron Cohen. They say that there is no such thing as bad PR...but it sure stinks to have 300 million people think that in Kazahstan women are just after cockroaches, respect-wise.

This trip was with the JDC (Jewish Joint Distribution Committee) and Tufts Hillel, so we worked with the Jewish community and spent the whole week exploring our Jewish identities. Under the Soviet Union, religion was clearly not allowed, so most Jews in Almaty were completely cut off from their Jewish roots. We worked and lived with "Kazakhstani peers," a bunch of kids our age, some of whom only found out they are Jewish literally years ago. One girl in my group, Ania, got a job working for the Jewish community website just by chance. Her parents decided it was a fitting time to tell her then that she is Jewish. They were too scared to tell her before that. This was six months ago. She's 20.

All of these discussions about Judaism really got me thinking about my roots and my own Jewish identity. More on this later.

Some quick facts before I go:
Apples really are from Kazakhstan. So are yurts and Kazakh nomads.
KZ is the 9th largest country in the world.
Being a vegetarian is a little bit like being a weirdo in KZ.

More soon.

Love,
Sarah

The People’s Movement for Reckless Endangerment

2008-07-29T05:53:00.000-07:00

And the plot thickens…..
I’ve done a lot of complaining about the traffic and drivers in Armenia this summer. It really is horrible and people here seem to dislike it just as much as I do.

Last week I was editing an article about the exorbitant increases in fines for traffic violations and the author just happened to mention the origins of this national affinity for dangerous driving.

By way of a brief background, there is an ‘upper class’ in Armenia, about 300 very wealthy families. Everyone knows who they are, where they live, how they got their money, and who their children are. There are many boutiques in Yerevan selling outrageously priced clothes ($100 for a plain cotton tank top, Gap quality) and these stores are known to cater solely to these families, because no one else can afford them (including yours truly). On the way out of Yerevan, you can see ‘Gago the Stupid’s’ compound perched on top of a hill. He has his own church in the compound and is currently constructing an identical mansion for his two year old son.

The sons of these wealthy families tend to drive SVUs, black shiny ones that I’m sure are really good makes and models. They get special vanity plates that have repeating numbers and letters. Not the kind of vanity plate anyone can get for a little extra money, but ones reserved especially for these families. In the past, these young, privileged men in huge expensive cars were never pulled over for traffic violations. The police would literally turn their heads and pretend not to see a red light that was run, an illegal turn, ect. This allowed and empowered the rich to drive with impunity, and they took full advantage of their ability to break the law and scare others on the road.

Praying I don't get hit by a car.

As it turns out, Average Joe (Armen) Driver got fed up with the situation and started to drive dangerously as well. Things escalated until today, when everyone drives like they don’t care if they hit little old ladies or not.

The police are trying to get the situation back under control but are being met with a lot of resistance. It used to be, complained the driver quoted in the article, that if you got pulled over you could give the officer the equivalent of $30 and get out of a $60 ticket. But with the police crackdown, drivers are stuck with their $60 tickets, which quickly double, triple, and quintuple within a couple months of non-payment. You can end up with a $1000 fine.

I thought the quote in the article was very interesting. The taxi driver bemoaned the unreasonable traffic fine scheme, which does seem a little ridiculous, but also complained that it didn’t affect the rich people because they had no trouble paying the fee anyways. He’s right, but misses the point. Rich people are always going to have an easier time paying a fine, just like most things in life will probably be physically easier for them. But on the other hand, rich people probably are not walking home from the bus, or trying to cross a busy intersection to get to work. This fight against privilege is powerless against undeserved privilege and winds up imposing a double sanction on the rest of society- exorbitant traffic fines and the risk of vehicular manslaughter every time you step out the door.

Health Watch 2008

2008-07-29T05:16:00.000-07:00

I started a new diet. It’s called the ‘I’m so hot my will to exist is melting and I’d rather just put my head down on my desk and minimize movement than try to go get lunch’ diet. I’ve been eating a lot of watermelon. When it cools off at, oh say 11:30 pm, I tend to perk up a little and eat my daily caloric intake worth of ‘crackers,’ with quotes because despite the packaging, we all know that these have about two times too much sugar to be considered actual crackers, and that calling them such is just a euphemism for sweet, delicious cookies.

This diet is in many ways similar to that of my officemate. She told me several times that she is trying to lose weight this summer. She is on the ‘brick of ice cream and half liter of regular coke for lunch’ diet. I wonder if I should say something. I would never, EVER suggest that someone diet, or say anything about an average person’s choice of food. But, we talk about her diet at least three times a week, only because she brings it up. She clearly thinks she is making sacrifices (delicious sacrifices) and politely refuses other food. How to handle this delicate situation, I am not sure. I’ll probably err on the side of silence but it is slightly painful to watch.

Arpine's Birthday Party, her uncle explaining to me again that I have to drink the WHOLE thing.

I may have mentioned this before, but I have been informed that is it unhealthy to sip vodka. Arpine's uncle is a surgeon and everytime we are eating with him he calls on me to make a toast and then gets (kiddingly) upset when I don't finish my shot glass of vodka. He did tell me, in all seriousness, that it is a sign of alchoholism to sip vodka. It means the taste doesn't bother you because you drink it so much. I've tried to explain that if I drink the whole thing everytime I will fall over.

Finally, I had the most unintentionally terrifying experience of my life last week. We went to Victory Park, which is at the top of the Cascade, high above the city. There are several amusement park rides and they are very 'Soviet.' You see the usual suspects, the swings ride, the Viking boat one, Tilt-a-whirl, and.....the Ferris Wheel. The rides are at least 50 years old- there are vines and weeds growing through the concrete, the paint is chipped, and some of the lights of the rides are burned out. The old guy that runs them looks tired, unshaved, maybe completely drunk. He doesn't get up to do safety checks. We decided to go on the Ferris Wheel, so when an empty car came around we hopped in (ourselves). No chains or gates to keep you in the car. It was windy on the ground but as soon as we got above the treeline there were gale force winds that made the car sway back and forth. I have never been so afraid. Arpine managed to get her camera out and take this less than flattering picture. I am posting it as penance for the time last summer when I went on the Ferris Wheel with Steve Spiro and teased him by making it sway. I understand now and I am truly sorry :)

Alaska

2008-07-26T00:02:00.000-07:00

Hello all,
It's been quite a while since I've written anything on here, but I've got good reasons. I've been in the White Mountains of North-Central Alaska, which have more grizzly bears than the White Mountains in New Hampshire, although we didn't see any.
We finished our work project, which was continuing the construction of a trail up Tabletop mountain (look it up, it'll probably take a while to find) to the tune of 750 feet, or a less impressive sounding 1/7 of a mile. Building a trail through tundra, we quickly learned, has its own pace and its own rules, just like Alaska.
A description. The first step is to take a shovel or an ax blade and cut a square of the tundra, which was anything from two inches of dry or burned grass, to three foot deep chunks of seeping moss, shrubs and saplings that could be rolled up like a carpet. The next step is to admire what a clean-looking "trail" you've made for just a minute, and then begin digging drainage ditches across the trail as fast as you can manage, because what you've just done is cut cross sections of several small rivers running through the tundra that now begin to pour onto your section, making the dry-ish dirt, mud.
So you've successfully gotten the tundra off the trail in a move that resembles hugging a three foot long wet sponge and youve gotten a couple drainages to get some of your newfound rivers off the trail. Don't wait now, because you need to get all of the organic material off of the layer of clay underneath it that will become your trail before the ground melts! That's right, it's eighty degrees out and the ground is solid ice! What's that? it started raining? uh oh. Go back to camp and cook dinner. definitely don't pass go.
You're back the next day, although the sun never went down, so who's to say, really, and you go to your spot, and stand stretching in the morning mist, scanning for moose and owls, when you realize that the section of soil you'd thought so foolishly to claim to control, maybe a little bit, is now literally swallowing you. It turns out, you've reached the right layer of clay, but there's a spring underneath it, so it's now quicksand and you're up to your calves and getting deeper. You call for help from your crew members, but they are all rolling around in gastrointestinal agony (we are bringing four of our eight members to the clinic for what seems like the same digestive disorder). Once you wrestle the ground for a few minutes and end up panting on the tundra, you know you've really gotten into building trail in tundra. It's now time to admit defeat and wait five days until you can stand on the ground you just dug up.
Building trail in the tundra is like scratching a mosquito bite, constantly, on purpose, maybe even getting paid for it. Sometimes it seems like you should just resist that initial urge to build a trail there, and the itch will go away. But it's also really satisfying, to turn tundra into some hard won trail-like state, and be able to share it with some really great people.

p.s. our crew finished more trail, per person, of any crew in White Mountains history. We had the easy go of it.

So now we're spending the next two nights on the army base in Fairbanks, getting better and cleaning up, before a celebration tour through Denali National Park. I hope everyone is doing well, and pictures will come soon.

Steve

Becky-jan

2008-07-17T23:20:00.000-07:00

I once heard the expression, 'a nickname is like a verbal hug.' In Armenia, adding the -jan to the end of a name is like saying friend, buddy, dear, ect. A little like the diminutive form in Spanish. Adding jan isn't a big deal, it is said so quickly you can barely catch it. But, the first time someone called me Becky-jan a couple weeks ago, I could not wipe the dopey grin off my face. It was all I could do not to stand up and give a Sally Field Oscar speech. You like me, you really, really like me.

Photo of the Armenian army around WWI, from the Armenian history museum.

Qsan Yot in Hayastan

2008-07-17T03:22:00.000-07:00

Leaving your mid twenties for the barren no man's land of your late twenties is not so bad when it's done with cake, Georgian dumplings, vodka and friends- old ones, new ones and the newest ones.

I had a great birthday weekend. ABA staff brought some cake to work, which we ate at 10:30 am. The Counterpart NIS Country Director just happened to be in Yerevan so we went out to lunch and gossiped about all things CPI. After work I went out for drinks with some ladies from work and had the most delicious watermelon punch thing. And thennnn, my friend Zara and I went to Kami, Yerevan best and only club for cool kids. We must have been doing some seriously awesome dancing because some dude sitting off to the side kept giving us two thumbs way up and perfect tens. And my mummy sent me a fabulous care package, just like at camp!, so I have hershey kisses all day long.

On Saturday I poked around some museums and met a new buddy, to whom I told all the half facts I know about Yerevan and dragged to the flea market and then all the way up the Cascade on Sunday night for some Russian beers and nightime city views.

On Sunday, Arpine took me out to the country with her 'yard friends.' We took a mashrutka (small minivan) out to the country and then her uncles picked us up and took us to a church called Khor Virap where Grigor Lushivich was imprisoned for a long time. They kept him in a hole, and low and behold, they let you go down into the hole! It was about 90 degrees and I was feeling a little 'under the weather' from the night before but they all really wanted me to go down into the hole, so I took a deep breath and went down. Like everyone in Arpine's life, her family was incredibly nice and sweet.

Then we picked up some more family and headed way, way out into the countryside to Armenia's only national park for another BBQ. It was gorgeous! We had pretty much the same meal as I did at the countryside house. We took a little hike and played some no-net volleyball.

Before heading out we stopped by Arpine's grandmother's house to say hello. Her aunt, uncle, and cousins all live with grandma in a very nice house. They keep animals and Ashok was very excited to show me all the little Wilburs!

Rule of Whose Law?*

2008-07-17T02:09:00.000-07:00

The project I am working on here is called a rule of law project. Generally, that means promoting a society that depends on its formally written laws and legal systems to function. Rule of law means you don't speed because you could get a ticket. You don't accept bribes because the you could go to jail. You don't build an addition to your 4th floor apartment and support the whole thing with two cement posts because you will violate building codes.

The concept of a society that does not depend on formal law is tricky for us to understand because we consider a workable, if imperfect, legal system as a fundamental prerequisite to a functioning society. But it isn't necessarily so. People will work out their problems and try to find some sort of justice in the most efficient means available, whether they are written, formal, or merely understood.

This is not to say that having a strong legal system isn't good. In fact, a strong, accountable, and consistent legal system is maybe the only 'export' from the West that I have seen that doesn't come with significant drawbacks (and I've considered democracy). It's something I feel confident standing behind.

I had a conversation with an Armenian law professor and my ABA director at a case law training for judges during the first week I was here. I've been mulling it over since. Here's what I've got.

When Americans and Europeans (and others) talk about rule of law we assume a very basic concept- that of a social contract. I remember a little of my 10th grade World Civ and the idea that governments exists in order to protect people from a 'state of nature,' in which we would all run with axes. We forfeit the right to drive as fast as we want to the government for protection against those who would drive faster and more dangerously.

But what if the government, and therefore the laws, don't exist to protect the people it governs? If you are part of a larger empire, a colony, or a conquered land, the rules, the laws, and the bureaucracy would most likely be in place to benefit whoever is actually in charge. In a system such as this, the rule of law calculus is different. If you obey the law, you might avoid punishment but it is unlikely that you will be substantially better off. So, those who succeed are those who skirt the system enough to benefit themselves. Survival of the cleverest rule breakers.

In Matenadaran, the Armenian ancient manuscript museum, there are lots of maps dating back thousands of years. You see Armenia on maps with Assyria, ancient Greeks and Romans. It is often marked by an ark, the one that Noah crashed into Mt. Ararat. It is an old, old place with a storied history of great empires and crushing defeats and a distinct ethnic identity that has persisted throughout it all. But, for the last 1500 years or so, Armenians have not ruled themselves. First there were the Arabs, then the Byzantian empire, Seljuk, Mongols, Ottomans, and finally the Soviets. (thanks wikipedia!)

In some ways, 1989 was the first time in 1500 years that Armenians have been free to make their own law, without a ruling party looking over their shoulder. Of course this is a vast simplification, but I think it makes sense in some ways. Since the Russians left, Armenians have stepped into the role the ruling party that governs for their own benefit. The judiciary is a prime example. In significant cases, judges often wait to hear how they should rule from 'above.' Those that buck the trend are fired, without recourse.

So, promoting rule of law is about teaching case law, how to brief a case, strategies for questioning prosecution witnesses, but it is also about a deeper, paradigmatic shift.

ps On my walk to work this morning I saw a man shaving his nose hairs with a bic razor in the side mirror of his car while his wife sold vegetables out of the trunk. If you think this is weird, talk to my Armenian friend Alina who lived in a house in Gaithersburg, MD with roommates who were into 'furries.' If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you....

* This post, as all posts, consists of RHU musings only and should be taken with several large grains of salt. And maybe a fact check to boot.

Deep Thoughts

2008-07-10T03:21:00.000-07:00

I just bought my Tbilisi-Istanbul ticket for August and one of the meal options was 'Low Protein.' Not vegetarian, there were three options for you guys- Indian vegetarian, Asian vegetarian or Vegan. But low protein. Who is this for? Dudes who had too much protein shake at the gym yesterday? Recovering anemics? Those who aren't superstitious, but just a little stictious?

There are lots of underpasses here, which is really nice because you can avoid crossing some street. This is a good thing because I swear it's like that 1980's videogame 'Frogger.' If you make it off the curb and all the way to the median, you are likely to get smushed in by the left hand turners.

Back to the underpasses, in the one I pass every day there are three tiny little offices. They sort of look like KGB interrogating rooms, with an empty desk, two chairs, and a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, but I've deduced that the first one is a for xeroxing and the second one is for something internet related. But the third one is a complete mystery. It is always darker than the others and has three chairs, a TV, and a little curtained off area. Every morning I walk by and there is someone different sitting in the chair, having coffee, watching TV, in house slippers. Sometimes it's an old woman, sometimes two, sometimes an old man. Ok, I guess they are all older. What is this place??? Rent a living room? I walk by at night and there's no one there so it's not a sleep over place. In my head you get up, start heading to work, realize you are an hour early, so what are you going to do? Rent a living room, that's what! Take your shoes off, have some coffee, maybe your morning cigarette, watch the news, you know.

A July Valentine

2008-07-10T03:17:00.000-07:00

Dear man at the delivery joint who makes my sandwich,

I love you and think we should get married. You know me like few do. Every day I order ‘no fries’, and every day you do not send me a pile of fries, but instead sneak about 7 or 8 into the wrap. And not just any kind of fries! Crispy ones! I know you do this specially for me because I’ve had the menu translated and none of the wraps list ‘fries’ or ‘potatoes’ as an ingredient. It’s like you know that I can’t make myself order fries, but secretly I want some. So you loving bury them in the wrap amid the chicken and vegetables, knowing that I will find them and be happy. I especially appreciate this during these ugly days of the law journal Write On competition.

So thank you.

Love,
Becky

Ps This may be too much to ask but I will hope against all odds that you are taller than 5’7” or else our wedding pictures will be really awkward.

Becky Does the Dancing

2008-07-10T02:38:00.000-07:00

I have a friend! Her name is Arpine and she is my Armenian teacher. She was co-opted into the both positions of Armenian teacher and RHU bff by my Russian teacher, Larissa Markovnah (Markovnah meaning 'son of Mark,' it's called her patronic name and it indicates respect). Arpine is incredibly sweet, patient and fun. She invites me to do all sorts of things with her friends and family. She is Larissa Markovnah’s deputy at the language school and oversees a group of 23 year old girls who are all English language teachers. We went to the zoo last weekend and they tried to teach me a bunch of words.

Me the English teachers. Arpine is next to me in orange.

Note the sad-looking camel with a floppy hump.

I remember three- artiv is eagle, kapack is monkey, and Dee is Horse. The zoo was really depressing, animals in very small cages, they all looked thin and sort of sick, and people kept throwing food at them. One of the baboons flipped out after a little girl hit it in the head with an apricot. He jumped on the bars and hissed with his huge teeth showing. Scared the pants off me!

Lots of meat. This picture not dedicated to my sister. That would be mean.

Arpine also has a great group of ‘yard’ friends. They all grew up in the same or neighboring buildings, hence the name. She invited me over to her house for dinner a couple weeks ago and the whole group came over to say hi. Last weekend Arpine invited me to go to her family’s country house for what can only be described as National Water Fight Day. It’s an Armenian holiday that is supposed to date back to pagan times and involves good luck if you ‘water’ someone. This gives everyone free reign to dump water on you all day long. We took a van out the country and had to close the windows because there were children lining the streets who would launch plastic bags filled with water into the windows of the van. That was actually kind of scary.

Armenian BBQ!

We got to the country house, which is the very modest place where he grandfather spends most of his time, and immediately began setting up for the famous Armenian Barbeque. It involves lots of bloody meat and skewers and smoke but boy is it good. The country house is a two story cement building surrounded by 40 feet of grape vines and fruit trees. When the BBQ was ready we set up a big table on the porch upstairs, poured the vodka, and ate. About ten minutes into eating the toasts began. To friendship, to Americans, to love, and finally, to beautiful sex. When I heard that one I choked on my cup full of vodka.

Arpine, Becky, Rubina- post toasts

A couple brief asides:
- Russian and Armenian generally do not use articles. It’s really nice when trying to learn the language, less nice when editing legal articles. I am forever inserting ‘the’ and ‘a’ and deleting awkwardly places ones.

- During one of my Armenian lessons, I made poor Arpine describe the way dating works here. Several times I’d asked her if two people were boyfriend/girlfriend and she assured me that they were ‘just doing the friendship.’ But then there was another situation in which one of her friends was angry at a guy with whom she had done the friendship for awhile and then he moved on to another girl. So clearly there’s something else implicated in this doing of friendship. Arpine explained that it encompasses everything from the initial expression of interest through group dates until the first kiss. Pretty much, if you are going to be doing any k-i-s-s-i-n-g, you better be ready for love, marriage and the proverbial baby carriage.

So back to the toast, one of Arpine’s cousins stood up and gave a toast, in English, to beautiful sex. I choked on my vodka again and I turned with big eyes to Arpine and she explained it was a toast for women, you know, the beautiful gender. Ahhhhha.

After barbeque we cleaned up, dumped some more water on each other, played cards, the cousins and friends tried out some English words on me, and I made them laugh my asking everyone their name and birthday (my only two Armenian sentences thus far). Then someone put on some Armenian music and Arsen decided to teach me how to dance. I wasn’t horrible but I also don’t think there will be any repeat performances. Arsen and I really hit it off and by the end of the night this cheeky lil pup was looking at pictures in my camera and referring to his mother and father in law.

Becky Does the Dancing

We had a second round of food with some absolutely amazing stewed lamb and more vodka and awkward toasts in English. Then a couple strolls up and down the street, fruit, cookies, and clean up. A really fun day.

A pretty view from the country house.

Undocumented Alien Bunnies

2008-07-08T09:20:00.001-07:00

OK I have snapped. Driven mad by the heartless bunnies munching my baby lupins and the threat to our way of life, I have gone all “Lou Dobbs” on their asses and built “protective custody enclosures” to keep the bunnies out. If I can only catch one, I would interrogate it: Why can’t they stay in their own area? What’s so tasty about my lupins?

Diane in Tibet

2008-07-05T04:59:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Llasa on the evening of July 3rd after a 24 hour train ride from Xining. The ride was a combination of hours of brown, dusty high plateau scenery and breathtaking snowcapped mountain peaks. We saw lots of yaks, wild Tibetan donkeys and sheep and hundreds of small collections of Tibetan tents, colorfully decorated and inhabited by sheep and yak herders. The time flew by for the most part, the exception being that I had about 6-7 hours of altitude sickness (headache, stomach ache, vomiting), which is not easy to manage when the quarters for 4-6 people are about the size of our bathroom at home. But that passed and I spent the time looking out the window at some pretty amazing sights, reading and talking. Our group consists of 26 very different people, half of whom are couples. I knew many of them before the trip. One week in, we are all getting along pretty well.

We arrived at 10 pm and were greeted by a flock of Chinese security. It seems we are one of the first groups to be let into the country after the March uprisings and the government is very worried about more protests. It is fascinating to hear the story of what happened from our guide who is Chinese and has the official government story of the uprisings.

We went immediately to the hostel which is run by the Chinese government. There we were greeted by at least half a dozen officials who also looked very worried but eager to impress us with their hospitality. Our rooms are pleasant and recently refurbished and the hotel staff is pleasant enough, but everyone around here seems tense and nervous.

Fourth of July! Yeah America!

Today we got a slow start...they are worried that the Americans will keel over and die from the altitude so they are continually telling us to walk slowly and rest often. In the morning we visited the Jokhang Temple, the most magnificent temple with hundreds of worshipers circling the building (clockwise). The sights, smell and sounds of the place were something to behold. There Tibetans circle the temple singing mantras, many lying prostrate on the ground chanting and praying to Buddha. They place yak butter in to keep the candles lit and the intense smell of incense is everywhere. The temple is filled with brilliant colors decorating each little chapel inside. This temple was built in 639 AD by the king Songsten Gampo. Steve, I thought of you hundreds of times today.

Have to leave to go see the Potala Palace now, but will send more tonight.

Love

Steve at JFK

2008-07-03T09:34:00.000-07:00

I spoke with Steve briefly after he arrived at JFK from Serbia and before he got on his flight to Alaska, but haven't heard from him in the past couple days. Don't expect there will be much contact while he is in rural Alaska.

Terra Cotta Warriors

2008-06-30T16:48:00.001-07:00

Good Morning!

This is the third day of overcast skies. I am afraid the sun doesn't shine here anymore! Last night it took us 35 minutes to get from the hotel to the restaurant which is about a mile away. We are in Xian, a city of about 7 million, where in 1974 a local farmer discovered what was to become the 8th wonder of the world. Ever since Steve was in 4th grade (or was it 5th?) and he did a report on the Terra Cotta Warriors, I have wanted to se this sight. And it was worth the wait! There are over 7,000 soldiers, hundreds of other statues including generals, archers, horses, chariots. All of this was built over 2 thousand years ago to help an emperor continue to rule in the afterlife. It is an amazing story.

Today we hike around the walled city of Xian and see some additional sights before boarding a plane to Xining where we will do some sightseeing and go to a lake before getting on the train to Tibet.

It is very difficult to find internet access for my computer and when I use a Chinese computer all the directions are in Chinese. But I will continue to try to bolg!

Love,

Mom

Lawn Weeds of the Lost Ark

2008-06-29T18:01:00.000-07:00

There's really nothing happening here and to prove it, I 'd like to tell you about lawn weeds. There's a lot of love in gardening and yard care, but there's a lot of hate too. Cute little bunnies who eat the lupins I grew from seeds all last winter, Bambi and her marauding horde of munchers, bugs of all sorts, and now slugs that eat the coreopsis. I've got anti-bunny spray, anti-deer spray, netting, and fences arrayed against these innocent-looking monsters. And then there's the lawn, now being eclipsed by lawn weeds. There are chemicals, but my antipathy has not driven me to use them yet. Googling "organic lawn weed killer" turned up a number of brews that were largely vinegar, so I got some vinegar at the grocery store and have been spritzing biodegradable devastation far and wide. But the consensus advice is to pull the weeds (after scolding you for letting the lawn deteriorate this far), so I have been pulling lawn weeds. An inadvertent side-effect is that the pulling of the lawn weed drives worms crazy. I mean wacko, run-for-the -hills, worm stampede. They literally launch themselves out of the ground. Today I had three worms crawling through my toes, a mini-Indiana Jones nightmare. I haven't gone fishing in 50 years, but this new-found worm-acquisition technique makes it tempting.

Peter

Diane in China

2008-06-29T17:56:00.000-07:00

The trip was uneventful once I got past the episode of the woman next to me vomiting all over herself, the seat, me, and the flight attendant. Not a good wat to start off a 14 hour journey! I landed mid afternoon, and a guide met me to take me4 to the hotel where I was able to leave my stuff befoe heading off to the Silk Market to meet the group. We then went to the foot massage place where, fro a mere $25, we were able to have 1 1/2 hour leg, foot, head and back massage. They even did this crazy thing where they cleaned your ears!!!!!!! Then to dinner at the Peking Duck restaurant. Today we are off to the Summer Palace, the Forbidden City, followed by an overnight train ride to Xian to see the Terra Cotta Warriors. I will write more later!

We are on the train to xian. I got the top bunk! The train station was a bit scary. We had to run through thousands of people, about half of whom were lying on the ground on sheets of newspaper with huge piles of belongings in plastic bags. The sheer number of people was overwhelming and then running to catch a train made it even more exciting Right now we are enjoying a glass of wine in our cubicle and we are entertaining guests from nearby cubicles. Its an overnight trip and I,ve taken my tylenol pm . Nighty night!

Obamarama

2008-06-29T06:43:00.000-07:00

I was walking in a park in New Belgrade yesterday, when I came across two older gentlemen sitting in an empty corner under a tree. As I walked by, they said something to me, and I explained that I couldn't speak Serbian, by not speaking Serbian, and they asked me if I was from London. When I said, no, I'm from closer to New York, they mentioned the name "Clinton," which, of course was the name of our president during the NATO bombing of Belgrade, and the word "malo," which, I'm pretty sure, does not mean "progressive reformer." I promptly gave the thumbs down sign to Clinton, and said... Obama? and both of them in unison, yelled, "Obamarama!"

Modern Art, Post Soviet Style

2008-06-27T05:35:00.000-07:00

Up and coming artists often use old warehouses to showcase their work because they are big, empty spaces and usually come pretty cheap, or so I’m told. But if you are in Brooklyn or London, looking for an old warehouse, there’s a good chance the warehouse you find near the given address will be the gallery.

But in a former Soviet country that’s seen the economy disintegrate since its proletariat heyday, there’s a very good chance you might have picked the wrong abandoned building on a street full of them and are just a dumb American wandering around an empty warehouse. I’m just saying, it could happen.

I like to call this one, "The Carpetman Lean"

Until next week, when I will still be in Armenia...

Love, Becky

St. Hripsime Meets the Germans

2008-06-27T04:49:00.000-07:00

Echmiadzin

Not to be a Negative Nancy but the driving culture is my least favorite part of Armenia. The driving is dangerous and fast and doesn’t seem to adhere to any set of pre-determined rules. Drivers here show absolutely no deference to pedestrians. If you are walking, it's your job to watch out for drivers taking rights on red, left turns-legal and not legal. Don’t get me started on the beeping. Yesterday I got beeped at for walking too slowly across the crosswalk.

Tower at Echmiadzin, the circles above the windows are faces and the one all the way to the right is that of a famous Prussian king. Some time ago the Armenians heard the Prussians were invading and destroying buildings as they went so quick thinking Armenian priests had stone carvers chisel the King of Prussia's face onto the church. When the Prussian army arrived the next day, the Armenians showed them the face and the disappointed Prussians admitted they could not destroy a church with their king's face on it.

But ANYWAYS, that was a long way to say I decided to take a tourist tour to see some local sites because I will never ever drive here. (Not that they’d want me to, but that’s neither here nor there.) We went to Echmiadzin, the Vatican of the Armenian Church. It’s a gorgeous old church, first built around 180 AD. Just in case ya didn’t know, Armenia was the first country in the world to formally adopt Christianity in 301 AD, which means the churches are a little older than those we have in Connecticut. The early Christians built it on top of a pagan shrine in a sort of bait-and-switch move to keep the people coming to the site. According to my guidebook, the shrine was left, “seemingly in situ in case this whole Christianity thing turned out to be a fad.” There were services going on in each of the churches but the services seem much more informal than others that I’ve seen. Again, the guidebook: “At Echmiadzin, everyone stands. There seems to be no rule about when you arrive or leave. People were still squeezing past us halfway through Mass, walking around, lighting candles, talking to friends. Actually, I think there’s something charming about it, like being in God’s living room."

Church Service Inside St. Gayane

Tombs outside St. Gayane

We also visited two nearby churches called St. Hripsime and St. Gayane. The churches commemorate two of 32 virgins nuns who left Rome to help bring Christianity to Armenia. They arrived and began preaching only to have the Armenian king fall in love with Hripsime. He demanded her hand in marriage. She said no because she had to remain true to her faith and the king killed all 32 nuns by stoning. Hripsime’s church was originally built in 618 on her gravesite. Gayane was the prioress of the nuns and her church was originally built sometime in the 6th century.

St. Hripsime

At St. Hripsime, they let you go down below the church and look at what is supposedly her grave. There’s a painted portrait of Hripsime on her tomb and you can also look at the rocks that were supposedly used to stone her to death. The room was about seven feet long by about five feet long and there were already ten people in it by the time I got there so I took a quick peek and head up for fresh air. Back outside, two of the men on the trip, a German child psychiatrist and a Swiss i-banker told me they thought I looked exactly like St. Hripsime. It’s a funny thing, you know, being compared to a second century nun who was stoned to death. I’ve decided to just accept it as a compliment.

Zvarnots, ancient monastery near the airport. Just peaking above the clouds you can see Mt. Ararat, where Noah's arc landed after the flood.

Victor the psychiatrist and Julian the i-banker turned out to be very nice, if a little crazy. I ran into them later in the week and we went to get a drink in one of the many cafes in Yerevan. Julian is very into two things: making money and reincarnation. We had to pass up several very nice cafes because they had ‘bad energy.’ Victor is aging hippie with an earring who vuld like the vorld to lif as vone organivm. They are going on a horseback riding tour of the Armenian wilderness, which at first I thought might be a little Brokeback adventure but the Victor told us all about his love affairs with beautiful women in remote European towns. It also turns out that Julian is the great grandson of one of the queens of Madagascar and is directly related to the dictator that was finally voted out when I was there in 2002.

Where naughty Christians go to get baptized

And finally, to ease everyone’s fears about the nuclear power plant situated directly on a fault line about 40 kilometers from Yerevan, Jorge the Czech nuclear plant safety management expert from the tour says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Old guy showing us the wine jugs he made when just a wee whippersnapper.

Diane Goes to China and Tibet!

2008-06-27T02:58:00.000-07:00

Good Morning All!
I am leaving for Tibet this morning, The Chinese government is finally opening the borders to Tibet. I will let you know where I am and what I'm doing whenever I can get internet access. I arrive in Beijing on Saturday morning and will travel south to tibet over the next week with stops along the way. I leave Shanghai on July 12 to return home. Off to my adventure. My itinerary is belwo with the exception that I am arriving a day later than the rest of my group. Peng, our guide, is a friend from my previous trip to Shandong Province. He is a former official of the National Ministry of Education and he knows lots of officials and can negotiatie the Chinese system quite well. It should be a great trip.
Below you will see my itinerary.
Thursday, June 26Departure from Hartford to Beijing Friday, June 27Arrive Beijing in the late afternoonHotel in Beijing Saturday, June 28Tian’an’men Square, Forbidden City, Hutong Tour, Peking DuckHotel in Beijing Sunday, June 29Excursion to the Great Wall and Summer PalaceEvening train to Xi’anHotel on the train Monday, June 30Arrive Xi’an in the morningExcursion to the Terra-cotta Warriors MuseumDumpling Banquet with ShowHotel in Xi’an Tuesday, July 1Morning: Shanxi Provincial History Museum, City Wall and Old TownLunch in Muslim enclaveFree time in Xi'anHotel in Xi'an Wednesday, July 2Morning flight to LhasaRest and free time in LhasaHotel in Lhasa Visit Thursday, July 3Visit Potala Palace, Jokang Monastery and Barkhor StreetHotel in Lhasa Friday, July 4Visit schools in TibetHotel in Lhasa Saturday, July 5Drive to Shigatse, sightseeing of lakes and glacier mountains along the wayHotel in Shigatse Sunday, July 6Morning: Visit Tashilhunpo MonasteryDrive back to Lhasa from another roadVisit a school if time permitsVisit local Tibetan people's home on the wayHotel in Lhasa Monday, July 7Morning: Take the train leaving for LanzhouOn the train sightseeing of Tibetan landscapeOvernight sleep on trainHotel in Lanzhou Tuesday, July 8Arrive Lanzhou around noonCity tour in Lanzhou: Visit Lanzhou Museum and Yellow RiverHotel in Lanzhou Wednesday, July 9Fly to Shanghai in the morningBund area and Nanjing RoadBoat Cruise on Huang Pu River in the eveningHotel in Shanghai Thursday, July 10Morning: Visit Shanghai Museum, City tour in Shanghai (Old Town, Yu Garden)Afternoon: Free time in ShanghaiHotel in Shanghai Friday, July 11Excursion to Suzhou, an old garden city near Shanghai: Gardens, Boat Cruise on Old Grand Canal, Old Town, Silk FactoryHotel in Suzhou or Shanghai Saturday, July 12Departure from Shanghai back to the U.S.Arrive in the U.S. on the same day

montenegro and croatia

2008-06-27T01:55:00.000-07:00

Hello family,
I'm back in Belgrade after five days in Montenegro and Croatia on the coast, which was beautiful and sunny. We were in Budva for most of the time, exploring the coast and the old town there. The sense of history everyone has here is incredible, everyone has an understanding of, say, the last five hundred years, and is able to tell the story of how they've arrived as a group, at the present.
anyways, here are some nice pictures I took this weekend.

Me, Bill and Sludge

2008-06-26T15:25:00.000-07:00

Bill Popik and I went to Northampton today to watch Paradise Pond getting dredged using a geotube system. While fascinating to us, it turned out to be a bad day for the sludge-busters as they made a slight miscalculation on the slope of the field and the enormous geotextile bag they were filling decided to roll away on them. Ropes, and trucks were used to try to restrain the runaway monster (200 feet long, 60 feet in circumference and ready for its freedom!) and they eventually did stop it, although they were very embarassed.

Peter

Me, Bill and Brad

2008-06-25T15:53:00.000-07:00

Beautiful Steamboat Springs, CO where I attended the New Works festival and wrote a short play.

If you visit www.cgiu.org and look at the big photos on the front page, you will see a photo of me with Bill Clinton and Brad Pitt. (Or you can just click the "Commitments to Action" button on the lower right hand corner of the photo.) I don't look that great, but hey, no one can really look good standing next to Mr. Hottness himself.

Sarah

Sloppy Blogging

2008-06-24T08:43:00.000-07:00

It's come to my attention that my post last Friday made it seem like Armenia was sending me home! I apologize, I only meant that my boss at ABA ROLI was letting the staff go home early on Friday to avoid the protest. And by 'See you next week,' I meant 'See you in the virtual blogosphere next Monday.' My bad.

In case you are interested, here's a pretty good summary of what is going on: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armenian_presidential_election,_2008 .

Love,
Becky

Yerevan's New Cathedral, Built in 2001

The Little People

2008-06-24T08:13:00.000-07:00

It takes a lot of "little people" to keep you wanderers on the road. The drivers, the cooks, the support team, the coordination staff. Today, we'd like to give our thanks to Clara for transporting Steve's gear to Alaska. As you can see Steve did not pack "light"!

I drove the backpack up to White River Junction and had the time to muse and observe along the way. Now that I am past 60, one of the few joys left to me is arithmetic. Gone are the high's and low's of youth, the questions, the clashes, the triumphs and storms. Nowadays when I get that faraway look in my eye, that intensely inward, wistful but serene and settled composure of a man who has seen much and remembers perhaps too much, I am probably adding, subtracting, multiplying, or dividing, on my way to some kind of average or rate or percentage.

So, on the long drive to Vermont I was watching the mileage. Mapquest had the trip at 140 miles, but as soon as I crossed into Vermont, the first sign for White River Junction changed that trip total to 151 miles. But then things started to fall apart. Next sign 156. Then 154, and so on, giving the illusion that White River Junction was pulsating up and down Rte 91. The more grim view was that the arithmetic skills in the Vermont Highway Department may not be what one would hope for the Green Mountain State. We are all proud of young Jonah Ullman who scored first in the state of Vermont in math and I thought of how much they need him up there.

Back in Boston

2008-06-23T06:41:00.000-07:00

I'm back in Boston living in a house with some friends on Powderhouse Blvd. It's been really fun so far to play house. Yesterday I went on a cleaning spree and cleaned the living room and kitchen (mom you would be so proud.)

Anyways, Steamboat Springs turned out to be worth it after all. It was really tough at first because it is in the middle of nowhere and I was with people that were much younger than me, with the exception of the dancers who were all my age. Once the New Works festival arrived, things changed and it got very exciting. I got to meet and connect with artistic directors from across the country, including reconnecting with Michael Wilson, Neil Pepe of The Atlantic Theater Co. (Spring Awakening, anyone? I hinted to him that maybe he should cast me.), Andrew Leynse of Primary Stages, Adrien-Alice Hansel who develops new works for the Actors' Theater of Louisville (and who told me to send her some stuff!) and plenty of amazing playwrights and actors.

The reading of my play went very well, although it's still in the draft stage. It helped me figure out what needs to change and what works, etc. I figured out that the staged reading format doesn't really work for my play because there are some essential pieces of action that can't be done from behind a music stand. The best part was the fact that I structured the play in a way that kept people talking and musing over my play for the rest of the weekend. One actress told me that she thinks it will be her favorite piece of the festival!

Anyways, I'm here at Tufts now, going to start my research with the drama professor. I'm also working at the Office of Sustainability and that's where I'm off to now.

Lovee,
sarah

Housekeeping

2008-06-20T04:19:00.000-07:00

As a true and patriotic American, I solemnly swear to never tire of making jokes about washing my clothes with BARF.

Here are a couple pictures of my apartment. It costs more than my apt in Hartford, but it's right downtown and is quite nice. I always have hot showers because there's a big tank of water above my shower. There's cold water for about six hours a day and I haven't had a power outage yet! I even have cable and air conditioning, things my US apt is sorely lacking. Ok fine, the cable is in Armenian and Russian, except for the very notable except of CNN Global edition but I've had it on so much that the commercials are like nails on a chalkboard now. Integrity. Vision. Wealth Management. Bored businessman in your hotel room, put your money in Dubai!!! That's pretty accurate summary.

I have a little balcony and right across the street there is a very famous cafe that has jazz or classical music every night. In an interesting property-law turn of events, the top floor of the open structure was sold to a different comapny that started another cafe featuring live music. I think they've worked out a deal where the upstairs pop singer does a couple songs- Nora Jones or 'I Will Survive,' and then downstairs gets a couple classical numbers. In any event, I can hear it when I'm falling asleep and it's very nice.

Once again I've ended up somewhere with hotly contested elections and mass protests sooooooo they are sending us home early.

See ya next week!

Love,
Becky

off to montenegro

2008-06-19T03:29:00.000-07:00

Go Celtics!

So we're off to Croatia for a day or two and then to Montenegro for a couple more days, with Mile, our boss Slobodan's brother. I've been researching Georgia's "Rose Revolution" in 2003, and the economic recovery process. The fallout from destabilizing the country seems to have people wondering whether it was worth it. At least in the immediate aftermath things appeared that way from the sources I'm seeing.

Slobodan Djinovic, one of my bosses is pushing to finance trainings not only in the process of nonviolent revolution, but also in fragile democracy stabilization and economic recovery. He and my other boss, Srdja Popovic are going to the Fletcher Institute next week (along with a colleague of Uncle Steve's) to present at a conference.

For the next few days,
steve

2008-06-18T05:18:00.000-07:00

In my room

La tourista

2008-06-17T23:12:00.000-07:00

The Armenian Genocide Memorial

City view from the Armenian Genocide museum. Armen the military security guard offered to take the picture with my camera. Then he took one with his camera.

Start from the beginning, or the middle...

2008-06-17T22:15:00.000-07:00

I realize I've been a little remiss in posting here so let me just say- get ready! I'm going to be blogging up the wazoo. Pictures and everything!

I'm in Yerevan, the capital city of Armenia, where I have an internship for the American Bar Association Rule of Law Initiative (ABA ROLI) project here. The American Bar Association is the same organization that runs the state bar exams and functions as the professional organization for attorneys in the US.

How did they get involved in Armenia? Back when the Soviet Union collapsed, the US government responded with what many consider a modern Marshall Plan for the former Soviet republics. It was an enormous outpouring of aid- financial, humanitarian, technical, you name it and the US probably sent it over here. (Firetruck, you may ask? CHECK) From my understanding, the motivation was similar to that of the Marshall Plan- the US hoped to both win hearts and minds as well as establish political, economic and legal stability in the region. Stability, in turn, would create new trading partners and markets and necessitate fewer troops abroad. And there would be peace around the world. (Sandra Bullock in Miss Congenitality)

As happens so often with our government, much of this work was contracted out to various organizations. The humanitarian assistance program I worked on at Counterpart was one such program. The ABA ROLI project is another. ABA started projects in many of the former Soviet countries, including Russia itself, and the majority of these projects were very successful. More recently projects were started in other areas of the world. Here's the website if you are interested: http://www.abanet.org/rol/.

The office in Armenia has several very interesting programs. Here's a brief rundown of the programs and their main projects:

Criminal Law- Helped start the first Public Defender's office to ensure legal representation to criminal defendants. Helped form and continues to support the Chamber of Advocates. Advocates here are lawyers who have a special license to appear in criminal court. They face enormous challenges as most criminal trials are just rubber stamps for predetermined convictions. Advocates face judges who will be punished if they don't make the 'correct' decision and prosecutors who are guided by the judges.

I attended a Chamber meeting where a US prosecutor who spent 20 years in Brooklyn and the former Attorney General of New Jersey asked and answered questions. They discussed strategies to navigate this system and it seemed that the most realistic option is the public shaming of incredible decisions. One advocate described a case in which he represented a man charged with murder. Apparently the police tortured the man to get a confession by either ripping out or sticking something through the man's fingernails (I was unclear which). The advocate managed to have evidence introduced that proved this fact. The judge wrote an opinion in which he ACKNOWLEDGED the fact that the confession was obtained through torture but still found the man guilty on the basis of the confession. What to do with a case like that? From what I understand, defendants can only appeal to a higher court if the judge of the court of first instance agrees that it should go to a higher court. And you can imagine how often that happens... The other options are to apply to the European Court of Human Rights or to try to get the decision publicized in the media. In either case, the outlook for the man sitting in jail is not great.

This is getting a little long so I'll save the other programs for future posts.

Love,
Becky

2008-06-13T08:39:00.001-07:00

oh I figured I should explain the "reading the Bible" part of that title. The playwriting teacher, Henry Fonte, said I should read the Bible for my literary knowledge so that's what I'm doing.

Snow, playwriting and reading the Bible

2008-06-13T08:30:00.000-07:00

Greetings, family!

I am in Steamboat Springs, CO, working on a play. It is hard work. When I first got here, it was snowing! Our cabins do not have heat or insulation so that was a challenge at first. It's a little bit warmer now. I came here thinking I was going to have to give in my cellphone and have no internet access, but it turns out I was supposed to bring my laptop because I'm in the writing program. oh well. someone is letting me use their macbook pro for now.

I miss Israel and all the friends that I made there. I've been talking with the Israelis and they want to come visit, so get ready!

My play is about all the men with guns that I met in Israel and who those men are, how being a soldier changes your identity, etc. We shall see how it goes.

sorry this is so short but I'm on a deadline...

love,

sarah

mom again

2008-06-13T04:17:00.000-07:00

OK, so this will only work if everyone posts their comments.
I just heard that the Chinese government is not yet letting Western tourists into Tibet. I leave 2 weeks from today, so that worries me a bit since I signed up for this trip specifically to see Tibet. Oh well.
Sunday is Father's Day and we will be going to Louie's house for brunch and Buppa will be there. I thik he is a bit lonely so it would be good to email him about your travels.
Right now, Sarah is in Stemaboat Springs, Steve in Blegrade and Becky in Armenia (kissing museum guards). Keep in touch!!!!!!!!

Mom signing in

2008-06-11T04:05:00.000-07:00

I just heard from Sarah who is at Logan getting ready to leave for Colorado (Steamboat Springs). There was a day last week when Becky was in Armenia, Steve was in Serbia and Sarah was if Israel. What is going on here?!

Testing, Testing

2008-06-10T23:44:00.000-07:00

Does it work??