Saturday, August 22, 2009

Boom.

I finally came up with a name for my apartment. Previously I have had the great fortune to live in “The Trem 39”, “Club 425”, “615 The Lakehouse”, and most recently in Wisco, “Club Abyss” (formerly/briefly known as “O’Hanleys Pub and Grub”). Not particularly clever, but certainly fitting because it's so boiling lava hot, I shall henceforth refer to my apartment as “The Boiler Room”

Welcome to the Boiler Room, enjoy your bowel movement!

AWKWARD

In other news- I just sent a text message to a friend saying “Ramadan Kareem!” which essentially means happy Ramadan. But my T9 automatic-word feature in my phone turned it into “Ramadan Lardo!” that was a bit of an awkward one to explain..

Ramadan kareem!

The holy month of Ramadan started early this morning. Even if I wasn’t in the Islamic loop- umm, hellooo, did you read my last post? Obvi I AM in the loop- I would definitely be able to tell that something was up. I walked outside early this morning and was met with an eerie silence. Aden was dead. Getting a bus or even a taxi to work this morning seemed highly improbable and as the minutes inevitably ticked on I started to get desperate- a few teachers and, of course, many students were wickedly late this morning because of the paucity of transportation options. During Ramadan (the holy month of fasting), Islamic countries turn nocturnal- fasting is from sunrise until sunset, ergo things come alive at night. I’ve heard that it is really difficult to fast for Ramadan in non-Islamic countries because the world just carries on the same. Here, as in all Islamic countries there is a total shift to night living. Nothing is open until evening, the streets are dead, the shops are closed, the people are at home. Sleeping. Amideast is now open until Midnight. My Arabic class went from 5pm to starting at 11pm, which is super-de-duper past my bedtime. A few things remain open like normal, hospitals for one. Another are my English classes. It’s going to be hard having to stay up all night for my myriad obligations-which now take place in the middle of the night aka boxing at 2am- yet still be functioning for my morning classes.
So this morning when all seemed lost, a bus driver I know, Amin, happened by. I had only met Amin once previously many months ago but he remembered me, and I, astoundingly, remembered him as well. He took me all the way to Amideast- refusing to pick up any other passenger- I saw two people out on the usually overcrowded, bustling main streets- all the while jabbering excitedly in Arabic. I got a free ride, I had a nice covo and got to practice my Arabic, I made it to class on time- what an excellent start to Ramadan.
Many an hour later as I was leaving work I stuck my finger out to an approaching bus (expertly pointing my finger behind me to indicate the region I wished to head towards) and it was Amin again! He may have been waiting for me because the coincidence of seeing him twice in one day seems too great, but I don’t think so.
Once again he took me all the way home, refused to let me pay, and didn’t pick up another passenger. We discovered that we have many things in common- we are both 23, we both live in Muallah, we both think sahawic is simply delicious, and we are both married. My husband is of course, still away on business though…

In a couple of hours I will go to an iftar at my family’s house. This is the ritualistic breaking of the fast after magrib prayer- and subsequent gorging ourselves with food. It is traditional to eat a date when breaking the fast so I’m going to wander off in a bit and try and find some delicious, nicely packaged dates to give them. People go crazy during iftar. If I had somehow inexplicably still been unaware that Ramadan was coming up, a trip to see the devastated shelves of the super market would have clued me in. Teeming throngs of woman buying jello, custard cream, and sambosa wrappers literally by the shopping cart load is a clear indication that something is going down. They really love their jello here by the way.. All year I keep hearing about delicious, fried, and traditional dishes that only make their appearance during Ramadan- Yemeni cooking is delicious but extremely redundant, I’m pumped to get some delicious variety in my life.

Two-Minute Islam

A brief summary of Islam, namely the five pillars, just because I've haven't done this yet.

Let me preface this by saying I am not an expert, nor am I actually Muslim. However I have been living in an Islamic country for almost six months and I FEEL like a damn expert though.

Islam has five pillars that are a veritable guideline for daily living- let me give a brief synopsis of them:
The first pillar, or Shadaha, is a seemingly simple mantra - recognizing that there is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger. End of story. Before the rest of the pillars can hold any personal or religious significance, one must first embrace the Shadaha as sacrosanct.

The four remaining ritualistic pillars are very clear and specific- with particular actions and procedures for each one. The second pillar of Islam is the practice of Salat, or the five daily prayers. Praying five times a day is obligatory for Muslims and has specific times in which they take place. Prayers are said at fajr(dawn) around 3 or four am, Dhuhr(noon), ‘Asr(mid-afternoon), maghrib(sunset) usually about 6:30, and isha’(early night). These prayers can be said alone or in the company of others. Praying in a congregation is apparently very beneficial because it can provide a strong sense of community and of shared faith and equality in Allah’s eyes. I visited the mosque awhile back and witnessed maghrib prayer( I was up high and out of sight of course). I watched as men swarmed into the huge mosque, they all mushed in next to each other. There was a TON of space but every newcomer would worm his way in right next to other people. They were all practically standing on top of each other, it seemed kinda ridiculous. Later when I asked about it, I was told that you pray as you would go into battle; shoulder to shoulder, foot to foot as a solid force- as in this case, a solid force of worship.
Communal prayer helps promote a spiritual union with fellow believers, but individual prayer can be just as important and beneficial, individual prayer is ones alone time with Allah- it helps solidify your relationship with Him.
Islamic prayer is highly ritualistic, nearly every aspect of it is specified. The act of praying itself is very specific- prayers consist of Qur’anic verses stated in Arabic (the language of the revelation of the Qur’an to the Prophet Muhammad). Posture and bodily movements are also highly important- there is a set movement to prayers with specific postures- standing, bowing, sitting, kneeling, and prostrating oneself before Allah. Previous to praying you must also remove your shoes and be certain you are facing the holy city of Mecca. In addition there is a mandatory separation of men and women during prayer and specific washings and ablutions (three times in each spot- elbows, ears, feet, hands, and something else..) that must be done before prayers can commence.
Mosques are built with the main prayer room already facing Mecca. Every office, bank, school, airport, etc. has special prayer rooms and signs pointing the way to the holy city. I remember on the flight here there was a specific channel on the television with the sole purpose of pointing the way toward Mecca, the arrow kept moving and refreshing every time the plane dipped or turned. And even when we were on the beach during the noon and mid-afternoon prayers, the Muhammads quibbled over which way to face, and performed the ritual ablutions with sand. The five daily prayers are so important because through them one maintains a direct, personal, daily link with Allah.

Zakat, the giving of alms is the third pillar of Islam. Zakat is an act of required charity to those less fortunate and also an act of self-purification through the sharing of ones affluence with others. Zakat is calculated on an individual bases- everyone is responsible to uphold the ritual of alms giving themselves. I’m consistently besieged and beseeched by Somali beggars for money. I often give but I find my self growing ever resentful of it for myriad reasons- but let’s save that rant for another day, shall we? But while roaming around, some Muslim people have commented things like, “ya know, they shouldn’t be asking you for money, you have no need to give. They should be asking Muslims for money- we have to give, Allah decrees it. If we haven’t fulfilled our Zakat yet, then we will give. Huh.

The fourth pillar of Islam is the practice of Sawm, or fasting during the month of Ramadan aka RIGHT NOW. The holy month of Ramadan is a highly significant time in the Muslim calendar- much more than merely a time of fasting, the holy month of Ramadan is a period of increased spiritual awareness and devotion to God.
Ramadan takes place on the ninth month of the lunar calendar and throughout this month Muslims show their faith through the denial of food and drink, sexual relations, smoking, and QAT from dawn until dusk. In addition the Ramadan fast is also a time of total spiritual and physical abstinence from impure thoughts, harmful deeds, lust, anger, envy, etc. It is to be a time of physical, mental, and emotional purification. All who are able should fast at this time, with a few specific exceptions- children before the age of puberty, pregnant women, the elderly, travelers, and people ill or infirm are exempt from the fast. The fasting during the month of Ramadan is not supposed to be a burden or merely obligatory. Ramadan is to be a joyous time where can demonstrate their thankfulness and praise of Allah through the physical denial of worldly pleasures, self-sacrifice and total commitment to Him. It is thought that through physical denial, one can learn patience, strength and total reliance on Allah for comfort and peace in daily life.

The fifth and last pillar of Islam is the pilgrimage, or Hajj to Mecca( different than Umra, which can take place at any time of the year) The pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia is mandatory for every Muslim both male and female. The only exception is if someone is physically or financially unable to make the journey. Hajj is an extremely unique time- on this occasion Muslims from all across the world meet in one spot in order to worship Allah. During this time all pilgrims regardless of class or social standing wear a special white garment; this is designed to eschew all social classifications and allow everyone to stand equally before God in the ultimate form of devotion. Hajj is observed over a specific number of days and there are certain steps and rituals that must be performed including the circling of the Ka’bah and praying together at Arafat. Completing the pilgrimage is perhaps the hardest of the pillars to accomplish- in terms of physical sacrifice it is certainly the most “costly” but to Muslims it is also the most rewarding. Completely the pilgrimage to Mecca is a life altering experience. The pilgrimage of is the ultimate show of faith and devotion to God. Hajj is a logistical nightmare. And it has certainly become more commercialized over the years with companies devoted to Hajj accommodations, trip planning, etc.. I’ve watched documentaries and heard stories from people who have gone on ItalicHajj. I’ve heard many accounts of people being trampled or crushed in the teeming throngs of millions and millions of people all trying to perambulate around the Ka’bah or throw stones, or recreate the trek between the mountains. Every year people die from dehydration and exposure and exhaustion. Wild.
Obviously Mecca is a place where only Muslims can go. This place is so revered and holy, that even Caucasian Muslims have to jump through hoops to get permission to go- a friend explained that she had to get a letter from her American Imam, and have official documents professing her faith notarized, and make a special appeal to the government of Saudi Arabia. It’s all very otherworldly to me.

So that's the basics of Islam in a nutshell, well the pillars at least. Obviously it's far, far more complicated than that. This doesn't even begin to cover the beliefs or history of Islam. There are a million rules, and rituals, and sayings... I honestly think it would take years of studying for an outsider to make heads or tails of this religion.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

I have a new hobby

MEAD. I recently decided that I am going to start home brewing! Small, tasty batches for my own pleasure, that is. Yaaaaaaar! I feel like mead is an apocraphal beverage, everytime I say “mead” I think of the Vikings. Or Harry Potter. Mead is actually a sweet, ambrosial nectar made from honey. Yemen has a surfeit of honey. We also have yeast and fruit, ergo, Mead. Obviously I wish I could brew some tasty beer but a)we don’t have and cannot get the ingredients, and b) I just have no idea how to brew beer.
I cannot believe it has taken me this long to discover home brewing as a hobby. I can’t believe the girls and I didn’t dabble in this in college. We certainly made giant batches of liquor infusions and of course the patented “glow under black light Rave-a-colada!” that received much acclaim in our basement and whose high potency but smooth finish always made it an instant crowd favorite.

I have always done my utmost to support local. I love independent, and micro-breweries-
Best O’ the East- Yuengling, Lions’ Head.
Best O’ the West- Widmer Brothers
Best O’ the Middle- New Glarus Spotted Cow, Lakefront, Leinenkugal’s summer shandie
And obviously there will always be a place in my heart for Sam Adam’s summer lager, Dos XXX’s special lager, Corona’s with lime, PBR tallboys (thinking of you, Vince), Natty light ( Oh college…) Stella Artois, and Smithwick’s Irish Ale. It's been over five months since I've had a frosty cold one. I’m literally drooling right now.
I’m gonna go ahead and say that the LUSB and I were pretty instrumental in Lions Head attaining the acclaim and popularity it holds with Lehigh co-eds today. The little brewery out of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania is a master of it’s craft perfectly attaining the two most important factors of a beloved college beer- cheap AND delicious. $12.95 for a case of bottles, with hundreds of little puzzles printed on the inside of the caps- puzzles that go from mildly perplexing to deucedly difficult as the night progresses.
Even frequenting the North American independent brewery capital of Portland, Oregon and living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, the thought of home brewing never occurred to me. I just can’t believe it. It hit me a few nights ago, it was an epoch moment in my life. I live in Yemen, alcohol is haram, that’s okay, I don’t need it...OH MY GOD. BUT I COULD TRY MAKING IT THOUGH!

I made a relatively simple concoction flavored with honey, oranges, golden raisins, and some cinnamon sticks for a little spice. I think it is going to be DELICIOUS. There were of course, a few problems-
- It wasn’t quite sterile. I opened my big jug of purified Saudi water (Saudi beverages are the BEST) and the cap just fell to pieces in my hand… bah… okay so maybe not perfectly sterilized
- I obviously don’t have any airlocks so I went old-school with a balloon and a needle for air holes. I guess I never really appreciated the superior quality and craftsmanship of American balloons until 7 in a row popped on me- all the while the precious gasses from the fermentation process were leaking out and cursed oxygen was getting in. Eventually I got one fastened and then left my house for awhile. When I came back I found the balloon lying in a little pool of yeasty-honey water all the way across the room. It had SHOT off of the jug in what had to be a pretty epic explosion. Lots of clean-up on that one.
It did however have the unforeseen benefit of making my whole apartment smell like the beer-soaked party room of frat house for little bit. Ahhh, memories!
Hopefully these things don’t prove too detrimental to the overall taste worthiness of my brew.

Other factors that could prove problematic-
I don’t have a racking implement for the final stages.. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Also I’m supposed to store it in a dry area with a regulated temperature. Well that’s just not going to happen. My apartment is just boiling lava hot and I keep my bedroom excessively air conditioned- but only when I’m home. So temperature regulation? Not so much.
It will take at least two months to finish fermenting and clear. I’m so dang excited! I put it away in my closet and I’m going to try to forget about it so that one day in a couple months my little event reminder will go off in my phone and remind me that I my SWEET, SWEET AMBROSIA IS READY TO IMBIBE!

Ages ago I decided that my old-lady-with-money hobbies are going to be golf and sailing. I think sailing around a harbor at sunset with friends and a nice bottle of wine will be just the thing to move me gracefully into my golden years. And golf? It first garnered my attention in High School in a class with six other people called “Life-time Sports” which we cleverly referred to as “L-Time Speezy”. Yeah, we were pretty cool. We never actually played golf (we spent 60% of the time playing one of the 5 versions of dodge ball that I made up, 30% going bowling, and 10% lifting weights) but we at least acknowledged that it was a life-time sport and would be good to try some day. Growing-Up-Hanley was all about lifetime sports and we had epic family battles of such little gems as croquet (the uneven terrain and sloping lawn invariably leading to many balls lost on the beach), shuffle board- the retirement home variety, not the bar kind, Kallyn Ball(volley-ball like game with a giant inflatable, and remarkably morphed ball so it would never actually go where you hit it, thus the high level of concentration and skill required), and our particular favorite, badminton. Badminton was THE BEST. Every year we would have to buy a new set because at the end of summer the year before would just cavalierly fling it into the boat shed or leave it out in the rain. We lost dozens of shuttlecocks every year in the wildly overgrown, extremely thorny hedge bordering our lawn with the neighbors (we like our privacy!).
Gaming strategy was contingent upon which side of the net you were on- one side was up against a consistently fierce wind so you had to crush the birdie with all your might to barely pass the net, the other side had the breeze in its favor so anything more than the lightest of taps sent the birdie sailing out of bounds into the hedge or neighbor’s lawn. Each family member had their own patented strategy- Poppa would nail the ball 100 miles up in the air where it would hang, seemingly forever, in the breeze and you would just wait for it moving back and forth and all around trying to set yourself up for when the birdie finally, finally came back into range (much like the bow-and-arrow scene in the movie Garden State) and at the last possible second it would change direction again forcing you to make a spastic lunge for it.
Mother liked to hit the birdie to the opposite side of the court from where you were. She would just nail the birdie back and forth, back and forth tacking you along, wearing you down. You would spend the whole time racing across the court, barely reaching the birdie, and then have to turn and sprint to the other side barely reaching it in time again. Over and over again until exhausted, you would prematurely start running to the opposite side of the court in anticipation and she would delicately spike the birdie directly where you had just been. Demoralizing.
And Kallyn’s strategy was to force you to make the mistake. No matter where you hit it, she wouldn’t try to force it by you, or spike it in your face. She played defensive badminton. Exceedingly patient she would just lightly hit the birdie back at you, over and over again, no tricks. Eventually (and invariably) you would grown overconfident and try and slam one by her, or put it in a far corner- but instead nailing it into the net or out of bounds.
No matter how many new and/or expensive racquets we bought, it always seemed that at least 98% had shoddy and uneven strings. So right in the middle of battle during a hotly contested volley someone would whack the birdie with all their might and then.... not seeing anything look around in a panicked frenzy eventually discovering the birdie stuck in the middle of their racquet. Patience was expended, nerves where stretched to breaking, rage was thinly veiled.

One summer in college a couple of the girls and I got into golf a bit and frequented the driving range- it was a thrilling three days. Palms and I LOVED it because we were instantly good and could crush the ball and then sit back and admire our handiwork/prowess, high-fiving, fist pumping and gloating over our instant skill. Mendy was…. Not quite as naturally gifted shall we say. She spent most of the time whiffing, spiking the ball about three feet in front of her, hitting the ever impressive “golf grounder”, swearing, and working up a powerful rage that only McGrady’s happy hour could assuage. Palms and I even invested in matching golf gloves- golf gloves on the range but at night known as “T and P’s Drinkin’ Gloves!” because, ya know, golf is sweaty work, and we developed a pretty powerful thirst.
And I feel like sailing is a natural progression- I come from a sea farin’ family and as a child masterfully commanded my little six foot row boat, only capsizing and requiring a passing yacht to rescue me one singular time. As children, on family vacays Kallyn and I were routinely drilled on the maritime alphabet and I’m proud to say we can BOTH still dutifully recite the whole thing on command- A skill that comes up in conversation FAR more frequently than one would ever imagine.
What do I want to do with my life? Where do I want to live? How will I make a living? What does the future have in store for me? I just have no idea. I sure do have my hobbies figured out though!

In other news

can we just stop for a moment and acknowledge that the Eagles picked up Michael Vick? He's been out of the game for three years and I guess didn't even make the trip to Lehigh to participate in training camp- which is probably a good thing because I know a bunch of people at the Lehigh athletics department wanted to brutally assault him after the news of his dog-fighting ring came out. I just don't quite know how I feel about him joining my team. Also the second game of pre-season is against my other fav NFL team, the colts! Eagles versus Colts?! I've been anxiously awaiting this game- my two fellas facing off, McNabb v. P. Manning, for ages and ages. I can't believe that a) I'm missing it because I'm in Yemen and b) I'm going to miss the ENTIRE season because... I'm in Yemen.
Life without football = hardly any life at all
-no NFL sundays with wingies, beers and kipper and kitten
-no monday night football watching my boys play
-no playoffs, no superbowl, no superbowl PARTY...
I've been preparing myself for this day, but it still hit hard. Fall and football season is by faaaar my favorite time of year. I'm despairing over the fact that I won't get to feel the air change and rejoice in the crispness of fall coming, see the leaves change color, see the cloud of my breath as the coolness comes, start to wear jackets and scarves again, smell the rain, cuddle up with roommates, kittens, or a good book, have a cup of hot apple cider and bake cookies.. I guess maybe I'm just despairing over the fact that this is my first fall without being at school or living with friends. This has been a year of extreme change and although it's been wonderful I still grow pretty nostalgic on the regular and miss my girls, miss the crazy, absurd, WONDERFUL life we all had together.
One of my all time favorite memories-
we had a superbowl party at my house(club 425, ahh! good times!) My roommates and I made an epic Mexican Fiesta/taco night feast. We had also made our all time fav funfetti cake, and had buckets of cold beers and mixed adult delicousness. Most of the softball and basketball team was crowded into our living room, gorging on food, downing frosty cold ones, and watching football. We were all just enjoying each others company when one of the girls looked around and said
" look at this? A room FULL of girls, drinking beer and watching football, and no guy made us do this, ya know, we're pretty lucky." I miss that.

my life is a mess

okay maybe not my life so much, but certainly my apartment. It all stems from the fact that for the first time ever I don't have and OCDish, neat-freak roommate (at various stages: JSmags, Marv, Michelle) or in the very least my mother, or someone with whom I am sharing communal living spaces with. I live in Yemen so clearly I don't have a male suitor whom might come acalling, I'm not trying to impress anyone here. And because of this my inner hobo has reared it's ugly head. I was opening a piece of gum last night and I just casually flung the wrapper onto the floor. WHAT. Get it together Taryn. I need to hang up my clothes, I need to put away the dishes, I need to take out the garbage. I hate doing the dishes and taking out the trash. Taking out the trash is exceedingly complicated because there's just no place to put it. There aren't any bins. My landlord has told me about 13 different things to do with it. Thus far everytime I've taken it out and put it in a new place I've been lightly admonished by my elderly corner homeless man. He's very nice about it though. I dread taking out the trash now, and put it off for far too long. I love fresh air and tend to accidently leave the window open- I live in a dusty wind-tunnel so that proves problematic as well. I need my poppa to come over and do one of his famous(infamous) whirlwind cleaning/organizing extravaganazas whereby he throws away 90% of your possesions but by god, you are ORGANIZED.