Note: This was written on August 12 and is describing events from August 11.
I started my day much earlier than I had planned, around 7 am, after getting only about three hours of sleep. I just couldn't fall back asleep and felt surprisingly refreshed upon arising. I then finished unpacking all my clothes and other things and ate some breakfast. After doing some more things around my apartment, I ventured outside for another long walk. It was great to finally have a chance to walk around during the daylight. Things look much different when you can actually see them! It didn't rain at all today and was probably in the low 80s most of the day. I walked for about 3 1/2 hours, stopping along the way to take pictures, make some purchases (including two awesome throw rugs that together only cost me about 1400 rials, which is about $5.83 - and one of them is probably five feet by 3 1/2 feet!), attempt to speak Arabic with people, and make some new friends.
Little kids love to have their pictures taken and I had at least 10 small children ask me to take their picture, one time a group of about 5 even ran up a hill to ask me. I walked to the far Eastern (?) edge of Sana'a, which is on a hillside and had a neat bird's eye view of the city, very cool. I also walked through more of the souk (market) and ended up making some friends there. At one point I was surrounded by a group of men and young boys who were interested in me and were listening to the "conversation" I was having with one of the men in the group. He was very friendly and thought it is awesome that I will be in Sana'a for two years. I told him I hope to see him at that souk again (though I probably won't ever give him any business: he sells/butchers chickens :-(.
Another highlight was shortly after this when a man approached me and asked if I needed any help. I didn't really, but could feel a bathroom visit coming on and decided to be proactive and asked him where I could find a bathroom. He then told me to walk with him and soon pointed to a mosque and said I could go in there. I told him "Are you sure I can go in there? I don't think I can." Yahyia - I later learned was his name - assured me I was fine if he accompanied me inside. So I walked through the gates and then removed my shoes/socks before walking in. When first walking into the bathroom/washing side there is a pool of water that you walk through and then go into a large room that splits off into the bathroom stalls and the washing area. Being the only white person in there (which is a pretty common experience in Sana'a) and likely the only non-Muslim, I got quite a few looks. I just found it fascinating to have the opportunity to enter a mosque and see what it is like inside. I considered this a rare opportunity, given the fact that non-Muslims are technically not allowed inside. Around this time I was beginning to become quite tired, due partly from the fact that I had walked several miles and also that I had not eaten or drank anything since leaving my apartment. The reason I had not eaten or drank is that Ramadan started today and during this holiday Muslims abstain from eating or drinking anything (or having sex) during the daylight hours and it is considered rude to eat or drink in front of them. Because Sana'a is a large city with many inhabitants, it is rare to find a place to do this in private, so I just joined the club (until I got home).
Later that day: the evening
I went walking around again last night and took in some of the festive atmosphere that Ramadan brings with it. It is so interesting how opposite the days are compared to the nights during this time. In the daytime there is very little activity and many stores that are normally open are not, which makes sense because a restaurant/eating establishment wouldn't expect to get much business when everyone is fasting. Then during the evening things go back to normal but with an even greater increase in activity and an overall lively spirit. Lots of people all around, qat sessions everywhere, food vendors all over the place, and a general feeling of happiness. I ended up meeting and talking with a bunch of people once again. I was invited to a qat session, got my first Yemeni motorcycle ride (pretty similar to my China experience!), had opportunities to practice my spoken Arabic, bought some raisins & walnuts and a English-Arabic book, and continued to fall in love.
Qat: My experience and perspective
Regarding qat, it is honestly the single easiest way to meet people and be accepted here and is not as addictive as it may sound. Think of it more like a strong coffee type feeling, with a bit more heightened sense of awareness and minus the jitteriness. I have also found it to be an excellent way to practice Arabic, as it gives me an opportunity to sit with locals and ask questions about things and learn new words in the process. In the afternoons and especially in the evenings, it is almost impossible to walk fifteen feet on a given street in Sana’a and not see someone chewing qat. Young men, old men, even small children chew this plant and sometimes get such a huge wad in their cheek that it looks as if they have several golf balls in their mouth. Although one does not see women chewing in public, they do also chew qat but do so behind the privacy of closed doors. During Ramadan, keeping in line with the rules about fasting, Yemenis abstain from qat until after iftar each day. But then the party is on and it seems some feel the need to make up for lost time from earlier in the day. Anytime that Yemenis see me chewing qat I have people ask me if I like it and why I am doing it, but more commonly I just get people who seem to love the fact that a white foreigner is partaking in their beloved qat. The main effects qat has on a person, besides the aforementioned feelings of euphoria, renewed energy, and alleviation of fatigue, is that it significantly suppresses the appetite, increases thirst, and in long term can lead to constipation and other negative side effects. Because of the increase in energy and alertness, chewing qat can make sleep difficult (at least for beginners, I am told by my Yemeni friends), which means it did not help me overcome my jet lag very well.
Overall I decided that chewing qat is like most things: okay in moderation and when done occasionally but a problem when it becomes a habitual activity, which unfortunately is what it is for most users in Yemen. Perhaps the worst impact qat has, in addition to the effects on its users, is on Yemen’s dwindling water supply. Qat requires a considerable amount of water to properly cultivate, which is a huge problem in Yemen because of their limited supply (their water table is much lower than other parts of the world). In addition to this, the demand for qat is so high that far more land is used for cultivating it than is for consumable produce that could help feed the population of Yemen. Unfortunately this problem is not going away and I have heard estimates that their water supply could be completely used up within the a decade. I have heard many different figures - from anywhere between 5 and 20 years - but regardless of the eventual end it is clear that Yemen is facing a very real water crisis. In the end I have decided that I may chew qat in the future, but if I do it will be something that happens once or twice per month. This will not only keep it as a fresh and interesting thing to do, but will also minimize my involvement with it and its profound impact on Yemen’s natural resources. By choosing to limit my involvement I feel I am avoiding becoming a major part of the problem. It is very interesting that one plant could have such a strong grip on a society.
19 August 2010
15 August 2010
Eating with strangers: Lunch with Andy
(Note: The experience shared in this post was from August 8, 2010.)
Chance meetings with fellow humans can be truly beautiful experiences. When mutually engaged with another person, regardless of his or her background, race, nationality, or religion, our basic social nature can be fully realized. Most often these experiences are shared with a select handful of people we choose to keep in our lives, but they can also be had with complete strangers whom one has had no prior contact with. During a nine hour layover at Chicago O’Hare Int’l Airport on my way to Sana’a, Yemen I had such an encounter that I feel I should share with others.
Before retelling this experience, however, I feel it is necessary to give a bit of background to help contextualize my position in life at this point. I had just arrived in Chicago after an hour and a half flight from Sioux Falls, SD, where I had enjoyed a wonderful sendoff that included every member of my immediate family. It was just after noon when I touched down in Chicago and as a result the first thing on my mind was food. While walking through Terminal 2 on my way to Terminal 5, I passed a Chinese food restaurant that had some great looking mixed vegetables, spicy tofu, and lo mein. Thinking I would probably not find much better or healthier or, for that matter, Vegan food, I decided to get my lunch here and take it with me. After ordering my food I made my way to Terminal 5, which happens to be the International Terminal, and next scouted out a place to enjoy my lunch.
While walking through the International Terminal I was fascinated with seeing all the different signs representing the various airline ticket counters. This was not my first time in an airport of O’Hare’s size, but the first time I recall seeing so many different airlines. Some of the airlines I saw included: British Airways, Air Lingus (Irish), Etihad (a Middle Eastern airline), Taca (Central American), Jamaican Airways, Polish Air, Virgin Atlantic, Air France, China East, Air Japan, Korean Air, and most importantly, for me at least, Royal Jordanian, the airline that would be getting me to first Amman, Jordan and finally my new home in Sana’a, Yemen.
Back to my story, though. After walking past the ticket counters a couple times without seeing any tables, I asked a Chicago policewoman where I could find a place to eat and was then instructed to walk ahead a couple hundred feet or so to where the Food Court was located. I then easily located the Food Court and found an open table where I chose to eat my lunch. I had not been sitting and eating for even five minutes when a middle aged man approached my table and asked if he could sit with me. I told him to make himself comfortable and he then began to sit down with his food. When he saw my Chinese food he said “Where did you find that? It looks better than what I have?” He had a small pizza and explained that he had already checked into the Airline Lounge area, but that there was nothing worth eating there. I explained to him that I had gotten my food back in Terminal 2 and then asked him where he was headed. “Stockholm,” he replied and then asked “How about you?” I then explained that I was heading first to Jordan, but eventually to Yemen, where I would be teaching and living. He had the usual response I get, which is a fairly equal mixture of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps a dash of bewilderment too. As we continued to eat, we both began to take a liking to one another and gradually let down what little guards we each had left as the conversation continued to flow.
At this point I would like to digress for a minute and offer my perspective on these kinds of meetings. In my experience with these kinds of encounters, there is a great difference between talking to someone in passing and really talking to someone. This experience was of the latter type, which I believe happens much less frequently than the former. In order to get to the point where one is really talking to someone and not just exchanging niceties, it takes longer and requires both parties to give full focus and attention to the conversation at hand. This is why I believe it happens so much more infrequently. Too often, even with those we love and care for deeply, it seems that people engage in conversation half-heartedly and without fully investing in the exchange (at least this is often the case for me). In these instances, the conversation does not develop as fully and the two parties do not learn as much from one another than when there is total immersion. I realize that life circumstances do not always allow one to dive into each opportunity to meet and discover fellow humans, but I believe that these opportunities are much more prevalent than we might think and we miss out on them because of walls we have built up, our guard, and our often times selfish nature of being stuck or lost in our own world. Regardless, I find that when I do jump into these chances and discover what others’ life stories are about that they are very enjoyable experiences.
Okay, so back to my story. As I mentioned previously at this point both myself and my new friend began to talk freely, taking a mutual interest in what each other had to offer. I soon learned his name was Andy and his reason for flying to Stockholm. When I asked him if he was originally from Sweden, he said “No, I am originally from Pennsylvania, but I have been living in Sweden the past 34 years.” He later went on to explain that his wife was Swedish and the he had met her 37 years ago while traveling there and described their meeting as “love at first sight.” They have since raised two sons, both who continue to live in Sweden but have traveled to the US several times including this most recent trip he was on. His wife and sons had left a week prior, however, while Andy stayed to attend a singing conference in Missouri. Always curious to find out if others are the only world travelers in their family, I asked him if any of his other siblings had lived overseas. He then told me that at one point two of his sisters were living in Africa (I believe Kenya and maybe Ethiopia, but I can’t remember for sure), one of his brothers was working as a doctor on Baffin Island, Canada (literally one of Canada’s northernmost points), he was living in Sweden, and another brother was back in Pennsylvania. Several of them have since moved back to the states, but Andy continues to live in Sweden and will likely stay the rest of his life. Andy also told me that he had recently gotten dual citizenship for Sweden and the US, after Sweden changed their policy to allow dual citizenship a few years back. For the next twenty or thirty minutes, we exchanged stories of travel and life and told one another about our families and future plans for our lives.
At this point in our conversation, both of us had long ago finished our meals and were now sitting here for the sole reason that we enjoyed one another’s company/conversation and each had several hours to kill before our flights (Andy had three and I had eight & a half). Looking back in retrospect, I find it great that he and I both opened ourselves up to what was to each of us a complete stranger and turned an otherwise lonely airport meal into an enjoyable time with another fellow human. As unfortunate as it may be, it is not as often as I would like that I linger over meals to enjoy conversation even with those closest to me. This experience reminded me how enjoyable this can be and how great it is to be an open vessel to the world. One final story Andy shared with me (which I believe was after I told him about my plans to climb Kilimanjaro) was about a trip he, his wife, and a friend had taken back in 1979. The trip was much like my recent train trip around the US in that it involved stopping and visiting friends in various places. Their trip, however, started in Sweden and was to end in India and was being done all by car! I can’t remember for certain how they originally crossed from Sweden into mainland Europe, but it was either by a ferry or the highway connecting Sweden and Denmark. They then made several stops in Europe, then Turkey, possibly Jordan, and were then crossing into Iran when they were stopped at the border by Iranian guards and told they could not go any further. At the time they did not know the reason for their denied entry, but later learned that it was because of the recent hostage crisis when more than 50 US citizens were held for 444 days. Anyone familiar with geography knows that Iran is the only way to cross Asia at this point to get to India, unless one drives all the way around the Caspian Sea to come down through the -stans, which would involve no less than 1,300 extra miles (2,600 km). Needless to say, their trip ended at this point and they were unable to visit their friends in either Iran or their final destination of India.
Although this was not the actual finish to our conversation, we eventually did come to the point where it was time to move on to the next thing in life as is always the case. As we parted, however, I believe we both felt fortunate at having had this wonderful chance meeting and each wished one another well and safe travels. Andy reiterated how much he hoped my time in Yemen and wherever else I end up in the world goes well. And so, now I too must move on to the next thing in my life and finish this blog post. I hope you have enjoyed.
Chance meetings with fellow humans can be truly beautiful experiences. When mutually engaged with another person, regardless of his or her background, race, nationality, or religion, our basic social nature can be fully realized. Most often these experiences are shared with a select handful of people we choose to keep in our lives, but they can also be had with complete strangers whom one has had no prior contact with. During a nine hour layover at Chicago O’Hare Int’l Airport on my way to Sana’a, Yemen I had such an encounter that I feel I should share with others.
Before retelling this experience, however, I feel it is necessary to give a bit of background to help contextualize my position in life at this point. I had just arrived in Chicago after an hour and a half flight from Sioux Falls, SD, where I had enjoyed a wonderful sendoff that included every member of my immediate family. It was just after noon when I touched down in Chicago and as a result the first thing on my mind was food. While walking through Terminal 2 on my way to Terminal 5, I passed a Chinese food restaurant that had some great looking mixed vegetables, spicy tofu, and lo mein. Thinking I would probably not find much better or healthier or, for that matter, Vegan food, I decided to get my lunch here and take it with me. After ordering my food I made my way to Terminal 5, which happens to be the International Terminal, and next scouted out a place to enjoy my lunch.
While walking through the International Terminal I was fascinated with seeing all the different signs representing the various airline ticket counters. This was not my first time in an airport of O’Hare’s size, but the first time I recall seeing so many different airlines. Some of the airlines I saw included: British Airways, Air Lingus (Irish), Etihad (a Middle Eastern airline), Taca (Central American), Jamaican Airways, Polish Air, Virgin Atlantic, Air France, China East, Air Japan, Korean Air, and most importantly, for me at least, Royal Jordanian, the airline that would be getting me to first Amman, Jordan and finally my new home in Sana’a, Yemen.
Back to my story, though. After walking past the ticket counters a couple times without seeing any tables, I asked a Chicago policewoman where I could find a place to eat and was then instructed to walk ahead a couple hundred feet or so to where the Food Court was located. I then easily located the Food Court and found an open table where I chose to eat my lunch. I had not been sitting and eating for even five minutes when a middle aged man approached my table and asked if he could sit with me. I told him to make himself comfortable and he then began to sit down with his food. When he saw my Chinese food he said “Where did you find that? It looks better than what I have?” He had a small pizza and explained that he had already checked into the Airline Lounge area, but that there was nothing worth eating there. I explained to him that I had gotten my food back in Terminal 2 and then asked him where he was headed. “Stockholm,” he replied and then asked “How about you?” I then explained that I was heading first to Jordan, but eventually to Yemen, where I would be teaching and living. He had the usual response I get, which is a fairly equal mixture of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps a dash of bewilderment too. As we continued to eat, we both began to take a liking to one another and gradually let down what little guards we each had left as the conversation continued to flow.
At this point I would like to digress for a minute and offer my perspective on these kinds of meetings. In my experience with these kinds of encounters, there is a great difference between talking to someone in passing and really talking to someone. This experience was of the latter type, which I believe happens much less frequently than the former. In order to get to the point where one is really talking to someone and not just exchanging niceties, it takes longer and requires both parties to give full focus and attention to the conversation at hand. This is why I believe it happens so much more infrequently. Too often, even with those we love and care for deeply, it seems that people engage in conversation half-heartedly and without fully investing in the exchange (at least this is often the case for me). In these instances, the conversation does not develop as fully and the two parties do not learn as much from one another than when there is total immersion. I realize that life circumstances do not always allow one to dive into each opportunity to meet and discover fellow humans, but I believe that these opportunities are much more prevalent than we might think and we miss out on them because of walls we have built up, our guard, and our often times selfish nature of being stuck or lost in our own world. Regardless, I find that when I do jump into these chances and discover what others’ life stories are about that they are very enjoyable experiences.
Okay, so back to my story. As I mentioned previously at this point both myself and my new friend began to talk freely, taking a mutual interest in what each other had to offer. I soon learned his name was Andy and his reason for flying to Stockholm. When I asked him if he was originally from Sweden, he said “No, I am originally from Pennsylvania, but I have been living in Sweden the past 34 years.” He later went on to explain that his wife was Swedish and the he had met her 37 years ago while traveling there and described their meeting as “love at first sight.” They have since raised two sons, both who continue to live in Sweden but have traveled to the US several times including this most recent trip he was on. His wife and sons had left a week prior, however, while Andy stayed to attend a singing conference in Missouri. Always curious to find out if others are the only world travelers in their family, I asked him if any of his other siblings had lived overseas. He then told me that at one point two of his sisters were living in Africa (I believe Kenya and maybe Ethiopia, but I can’t remember for sure), one of his brothers was working as a doctor on Baffin Island, Canada (literally one of Canada’s northernmost points), he was living in Sweden, and another brother was back in Pennsylvania. Several of them have since moved back to the states, but Andy continues to live in Sweden and will likely stay the rest of his life. Andy also told me that he had recently gotten dual citizenship for Sweden and the US, after Sweden changed their policy to allow dual citizenship a few years back. For the next twenty or thirty minutes, we exchanged stories of travel and life and told one another about our families and future plans for our lives.
At this point in our conversation, both of us had long ago finished our meals and were now sitting here for the sole reason that we enjoyed one another’s company/conversation and each had several hours to kill before our flights (Andy had three and I had eight & a half). Looking back in retrospect, I find it great that he and I both opened ourselves up to what was to each of us a complete stranger and turned an otherwise lonely airport meal into an enjoyable time with another fellow human. As unfortunate as it may be, it is not as often as I would like that I linger over meals to enjoy conversation even with those closest to me. This experience reminded me how enjoyable this can be and how great it is to be an open vessel to the world. One final story Andy shared with me (which I believe was after I told him about my plans to climb Kilimanjaro) was about a trip he, his wife, and a friend had taken back in 1979. The trip was much like my recent train trip around the US in that it involved stopping and visiting friends in various places. Their trip, however, started in Sweden and was to end in India and was being done all by car! I can’t remember for certain how they originally crossed from Sweden into mainland Europe, but it was either by a ferry or the highway connecting Sweden and Denmark. They then made several stops in Europe, then Turkey, possibly Jordan, and were then crossing into Iran when they were stopped at the border by Iranian guards and told they could not go any further. At the time they did not know the reason for their denied entry, but later learned that it was because of the recent hostage crisis when more than 50 US citizens were held for 444 days. Anyone familiar with geography knows that Iran is the only way to cross Asia at this point to get to India, unless one drives all the way around the Caspian Sea to come down through the -stans, which would involve no less than 1,300 extra miles (2,600 km). Needless to say, their trip ended at this point and they were unable to visit their friends in either Iran or their final destination of India.
Although this was not the actual finish to our conversation, we eventually did come to the point where it was time to move on to the next thing in life as is always the case. As we parted, however, I believe we both felt fortunate at having had this wonderful chance meeting and each wished one another well and safe travels. Andy reiterated how much he hoped my time in Yemen and wherever else I end up in the world goes well. And so, now I too must move on to the next thing in my life and finish this blog post. I hope you have enjoyed.
18 July 2010
Burning the Candle At Both Ends
Anyone who knows me is likely aware of my tendency to push myself and test my limits, both physically, emotionally, and mentally. I also have a tendency to do things and get into interests/pursuits in extremes, both positively and detrimentally. When I am traveling (and in my normal day to day life) it seems I am always trying to cram 25+ hours of living into each 24 hour day. While this approach provides excitement and interesting experiences, it also begins to have its toll on a person and needs to eventually be balanced with periods of rest and recuperation. This last part is the part I have trouble with and continue to learn the hard way: getting sick from going too hard and not sleeping enough. Recently, as in the start of this trip, I again learned this lesson and ended up with a cold/sore throat and an overall less than one hundred percent constitution for a few days.
It is always important to take care of oneself and ensure one is getting adequate rest to allow one’s body to recharge and repair from the pace of life. I am beginning to see that it can be especially important to do this when traveling because of the constant changing conditions one is faced with at each destination and in between: different water, strange mealtimes, erratic sleeping patterns, new potential allergens, and unfamiliar weather. All of these things are potential stressors for our bodies to confront and can easily lead to sickness without adequate rest and care. Unfortunately this is exactly what happened to me in the first part of my current trip. Fortunately, this experience helped me learn a couple valuable lessons: (1) it is okay to sit around and do nothing while traveling at times and (2) accept that you can not do/see everything and be content with what you are able to do/see. Now that I have been able to reflect upon my first couple weeks of travel and see more clearly how I allowed myself to become so run down, exhausted, and eventually a bit sick, I realize how easily it could have been avoided if I had taken more time to give my body adequate rest and time to adjust to my changing surroundings.
My own experience is analogous to that of an athlete running a race or playing in a game/match. It is rarely a good idea to start a competition at a dead sprint as it will surely lead to fatigue and may end up hurting one’s overall performance or even costing the ‘race.’ Unfortunately this is exactly what I did on this trip. I was so excited when I started that I took off from the starting blocks going a hundred miles an hour and for the first two weeks ignored most of my body’s cues/calls to slow down and take it easier. I was so caught up in all the new experiences, milieus, people, and the familiar freedom associated with travel that I forgot to take care of some of my more basic needs. Looking back, I do not regret the way life transpired or wish I had done things differently; I do my best to live with this attitude at all times and remain free from personal contrition. From the time I was in Minneapolis/St. Paul to New Jersey/New York to D.C. to N. Carolina/Virginia, I lived hard and fast and ended up feeling burned out, tired, and in need of some serious R & R. In other words, I kicked ass during the first few laps/first quarter and then started to feel fatigued and eventually ended up puking on the sidelines (though it probably wasn’t that bad).
As I wrote previously, I do not regret the actions that led to my exhaustion and eventual (but temporary) sickness, but instead choose to learn from them and move on with my life. Since this period of reduced vitality I have made efforts to take better care of myself to improve my quality of life and overall sense of well-being. Although I still have the tendency to push myself too much, I have done much better and as a result have felt much better. As of now, then, I am just keeping one end of the candle lit and can see just fine with that. I hope this will help others relax and make sure their needs are being met. Namaste.
It is always important to take care of oneself and ensure one is getting adequate rest to allow one’s body to recharge and repair from the pace of life. I am beginning to see that it can be especially important to do this when traveling because of the constant changing conditions one is faced with at each destination and in between: different water, strange mealtimes, erratic sleeping patterns, new potential allergens, and unfamiliar weather. All of these things are potential stressors for our bodies to confront and can easily lead to sickness without adequate rest and care. Unfortunately this is exactly what happened to me in the first part of my current trip. Fortunately, this experience helped me learn a couple valuable lessons: (1) it is okay to sit around and do nothing while traveling at times and (2) accept that you can not do/see everything and be content with what you are able to do/see. Now that I have been able to reflect upon my first couple weeks of travel and see more clearly how I allowed myself to become so run down, exhausted, and eventually a bit sick, I realize how easily it could have been avoided if I had taken more time to give my body adequate rest and time to adjust to my changing surroundings.
My own experience is analogous to that of an athlete running a race or playing in a game/match. It is rarely a good idea to start a competition at a dead sprint as it will surely lead to fatigue and may end up hurting one’s overall performance or even costing the ‘race.’ Unfortunately this is exactly what I did on this trip. I was so excited when I started that I took off from the starting blocks going a hundred miles an hour and for the first two weeks ignored most of my body’s cues/calls to slow down and take it easier. I was so caught up in all the new experiences, milieus, people, and the familiar freedom associated with travel that I forgot to take care of some of my more basic needs. Looking back, I do not regret the way life transpired or wish I had done things differently; I do my best to live with this attitude at all times and remain free from personal contrition. From the time I was in Minneapolis/St. Paul to New Jersey/New York to D.C. to N. Carolina/Virginia, I lived hard and fast and ended up feeling burned out, tired, and in need of some serious R & R. In other words, I kicked ass during the first few laps/first quarter and then started to feel fatigued and eventually ended up puking on the sidelines (though it probably wasn’t that bad).
As I wrote previously, I do not regret the actions that led to my exhaustion and eventual (but temporary) sickness, but instead choose to learn from them and move on with my life. Since this period of reduced vitality I have made efforts to take better care of myself to improve my quality of life and overall sense of well-being. Although I still have the tendency to push myself too much, I have done much better and as a result have felt much better. As of now, then, I am just keeping one end of the candle lit and can see just fine with that. I hope this will help others relax and make sure their needs are being met. Namaste.
14 July 2010
The People I Meet
Disclaimer: This was written on 3 July 2010. References about it being ‘last night’ should be thought of in that manner. Enjoy!
Quite possibly my favorite part of travel, and one of my favorite life activities in general, is meeting new people. Last night I felt the itch to get out and meet people in the Washington, D.C. area (technically Silver Spring, MD) where I am currently located in my travels. I had already enjoyed a full and busy day with my cousin Dave in D.C., but had a yearning that could be satisfied only through spontaneous mingling with fellow global citizens. In my experience with this activity, I generally have great luck meeting interesting, open-minded people who make for great conversation. Silver Spring was no exception to this and ended up providing me with a very fun and enjoyable night on the town. Here is a brief recap of my night and the characters I met along the way.
Prior to leaving Dave’s condo, I googled downtown Silver Spring and found an Irish Pub Dave and I had walked by the previous night. I decided it was as good as any place and began walking towards downtown. Google maps estimated it would take between twenty five and thirty minutes to walk the roughly 1.4 miles to the pub. I can not remember exactly how long it took me, I think it was close to their estimated range. The walk gave me a better feel for Silver Spring and let me enjoy a beautiful evening too. In no time I had found my way and was already meeting people.
When I initially sat down and until the end of the night, I was flanked by Georgia and Richard. Georgia is a local, born and raised Silver Springs native while Richard was born and raised in Trinidad. He is now a US Citizen and he has been serving with the US Armed Forces (Navy) for nearly fifteen years! Richard was a very kind and open-minded individual. It was fascinating to hear his life story: growing up in Trinidad, moving to the United States in early adulthood, applying for US citizenship and all its hassles, and his current/recent military life. He said he still has not found his passion in life and described the military as “a very broad and safe career.” Richard also told me how old he was, and when he said he was thirty eight I could hardly believe him. I honestly thought he was in his mid to late twenties or early thirties at the most, but not that old. Richard not only looked young and fit, but had youthful energy and still seemed excited about life and what he plans to do with it. I very much enjoyed this about him, and am thankful I had the opportunity to meet him.
Sitting alongside Georgia was Charmaine, who grew up in Bangor, Maine and Boston Massachusetts. Georgia is full blooded Greek, but has always lived in the United States and Charmaine is African-American (and beautiful as well). After talking with Charmaine for awhile she told me about her job as a Special Education Counselor/Coach at an agency that works with troubled and at-risk youth who also have developmental disabilities. This commonality between Charmaine and I allowed us to talk easily and share stories from ‘the trenches’ of teaching troubled and disadvantaged youth. She liked my desire/plan to move overseas and teach, and I enjoyed hearing about the work she does in Silver Spring. As was the case with Richard above, I was surprised when Charmaine said she was thirty seven years old. Similarly to Richard, Charmaine had a youthful spirit and a lot of energy. It was certainly a pleasure meeting both she and Georgia.
After I had been sitting and visiting with the people described above, three African American guys walked near the area I was sitting. I immediately recognized one of them from the night before, when Dave and I saw him playing chess outside in the plaza of downtown Silver Spring. I was curious about the game’s conclusion and decided to strike up a conversation with him. I immediately found out his name was David, that he had won the game the night before and was 3-2 against that particular opponent, and he was from Uganda. This last piece of information surprised me somewhat, as I had thought he was from India or perhaps Bangladesh or Pakistan. I think he was just as surprised when I told him where I thought he was from. David and I easily began to strike up a conversation and soon I was learning more about Idi Amin and the history of Uganda than I had ever thought I would know. It was fascinating to listen to David talk about modern African politics and other associated things and even more interesting when his two friends, ChaCha and Von (?), joined in the conversation. Both of these men were from Kenya and had been living/working in the D.C. area for several years, as had David. Von did not do much talking, but as soon as ChaCha started visiting with us he really lit up and the conversation flowed beautifully. For the next twenty or thirty minutes the three of us discussed modern African conflicts and problems, difficulties with becoming a naturalized US Citizen, and differences between various parts of the world. All three of these men, especially David and ChaCha, were well educated, intelligent men who are aware of the world around them. It was refreshing to visit with them about their area of the world and learn things I may have never learned otherwise. During our conversation I explained my plans to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in December. My new friends were happy to hear about this, especially ChaCha, as his native Kenya, more specifically his hometown of Mombassa, is directly north of Tanzania (where Kili is). ChaCha suggested flying into Mombassa and said the drive from there to where Kilimanjaro is is well worth seeing. I will definitely keep his advice in mind and appreciated him offering it to me. In general I enjoyed my time with these men and learned much from our brief meeting.
As the night wound down, I began to part ways with my new friends and shared in a mutual farewell as we all wished one another well in our various life pursuits. Even though I will likely never see any of these people again, I will forever have the memory of the evening and time we shared together. After leaving I walked the 1.4 miles back to Dave’s condo and turned in for the evening having satisfied my ‘itch’ for the time.
Quite possibly my favorite part of travel, and one of my favorite life activities in general, is meeting new people. Last night I felt the itch to get out and meet people in the Washington, D.C. area (technically Silver Spring, MD) where I am currently located in my travels. I had already enjoyed a full and busy day with my cousin Dave in D.C., but had a yearning that could be satisfied only through spontaneous mingling with fellow global citizens. In my experience with this activity, I generally have great luck meeting interesting, open-minded people who make for great conversation. Silver Spring was no exception to this and ended up providing me with a very fun and enjoyable night on the town. Here is a brief recap of my night and the characters I met along the way.
Prior to leaving Dave’s condo, I googled downtown Silver Spring and found an Irish Pub Dave and I had walked by the previous night. I decided it was as good as any place and began walking towards downtown. Google maps estimated it would take between twenty five and thirty minutes to walk the roughly 1.4 miles to the pub. I can not remember exactly how long it took me, I think it was close to their estimated range. The walk gave me a better feel for Silver Spring and let me enjoy a beautiful evening too. In no time I had found my way and was already meeting people.
When I initially sat down and until the end of the night, I was flanked by Georgia and Richard. Georgia is a local, born and raised Silver Springs native while Richard was born and raised in Trinidad. He is now a US Citizen and he has been serving with the US Armed Forces (Navy) for nearly fifteen years! Richard was a very kind and open-minded individual. It was fascinating to hear his life story: growing up in Trinidad, moving to the United States in early adulthood, applying for US citizenship and all its hassles, and his current/recent military life. He said he still has not found his passion in life and described the military as “a very broad and safe career.” Richard also told me how old he was, and when he said he was thirty eight I could hardly believe him. I honestly thought he was in his mid to late twenties or early thirties at the most, but not that old. Richard not only looked young and fit, but had youthful energy and still seemed excited about life and what he plans to do with it. I very much enjoyed this about him, and am thankful I had the opportunity to meet him.
Sitting alongside Georgia was Charmaine, who grew up in Bangor, Maine and Boston Massachusetts. Georgia is full blooded Greek, but has always lived in the United States and Charmaine is African-American (and beautiful as well). After talking with Charmaine for awhile she told me about her job as a Special Education Counselor/Coach at an agency that works with troubled and at-risk youth who also have developmental disabilities. This commonality between Charmaine and I allowed us to talk easily and share stories from ‘the trenches’ of teaching troubled and disadvantaged youth. She liked my desire/plan to move overseas and teach, and I enjoyed hearing about the work she does in Silver Spring. As was the case with Richard above, I was surprised when Charmaine said she was thirty seven years old. Similarly to Richard, Charmaine had a youthful spirit and a lot of energy. It was certainly a pleasure meeting both she and Georgia.
After I had been sitting and visiting with the people described above, three African American guys walked near the area I was sitting. I immediately recognized one of them from the night before, when Dave and I saw him playing chess outside in the plaza of downtown Silver Spring. I was curious about the game’s conclusion and decided to strike up a conversation with him. I immediately found out his name was David, that he had won the game the night before and was 3-2 against that particular opponent, and he was from Uganda. This last piece of information surprised me somewhat, as I had thought he was from India or perhaps Bangladesh or Pakistan. I think he was just as surprised when I told him where I thought he was from. David and I easily began to strike up a conversation and soon I was learning more about Idi Amin and the history of Uganda than I had ever thought I would know. It was fascinating to listen to David talk about modern African politics and other associated things and even more interesting when his two friends, ChaCha and Von (?), joined in the conversation. Both of these men were from Kenya and had been living/working in the D.C. area for several years, as had David. Von did not do much talking, but as soon as ChaCha started visiting with us he really lit up and the conversation flowed beautifully. For the next twenty or thirty minutes the three of us discussed modern African conflicts and problems, difficulties with becoming a naturalized US Citizen, and differences between various parts of the world. All three of these men, especially David and ChaCha, were well educated, intelligent men who are aware of the world around them. It was refreshing to visit with them about their area of the world and learn things I may have never learned otherwise. During our conversation I explained my plans to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in December. My new friends were happy to hear about this, especially ChaCha, as his native Kenya, more specifically his hometown of Mombassa, is directly north of Tanzania (where Kili is). ChaCha suggested flying into Mombassa and said the drive from there to where Kilimanjaro is is well worth seeing. I will definitely keep his advice in mind and appreciated him offering it to me. In general I enjoyed my time with these men and learned much from our brief meeting.
As the night wound down, I began to part ways with my new friends and shared in a mutual farewell as we all wished one another well in our various life pursuits. Even though I will likely never see any of these people again, I will forever have the memory of the evening and time we shared together. After leaving I walked the 1.4 miles back to Dave’s condo and turned in for the evening having satisfied my ‘itch’ for the time.
07 July 2010
An Interesting First Day in D.C.
Most first-time visitors to Washington, D.C. spend their first day walking around The National Mall, visiting monuments, perusing the exhibits of the Smithsonian Museums, getting pictures taken at any number of historic sites, or taking a bus tour of our nation’s capital. My first day in D.C., however, involved absolutely none of the aforementioned activities and was quite unlike any other experience I have ever had. Overall it ended up being a great first day, albeit some minor frustrations due mostly to the confusing layout of the city. Here is a recap of my adventures.
I started the day in New Jersey getting dropped off at the MetroPark AmTrak Station by friend Joe’s parents, Howie and Sue. They are great people and by giving me a ride saved me from having to get up an hour earlier. I enjoyed a quick and peaceful three hour train ride that passed through the cities of Trenton, NJ, Philadelphia, PA, and Baltimore, MD before arriving in Washington, D.C. This short leg also included scenic vistas of Chesapeake Bay and helped me better understand the term megalopolis, as it passed through an almost continuous stretch of urban development, punctuated only by short breaks of trees and large expanses of water.
Upon arriving in Washington I had three main objectives to be accomplished for the day: locate a business to get passport style photos taken, find Farragut Medical Center for a short doctor’s visit, and go to the Embassy of the Republic of Yemen to obtain my Visa. The reason I needed to visit a doctor was to procure a letter/note stating that I am free of communicable diseases and fit for travel/living overseas. All three of these tasks were for the same purpose: obtaining a Visa for my upcoming move to Yemen. I could have mailed all of these things to the Embassy and received my Visa that way, but I thought I would take advantage of being in D.C. and take care of it in person (and avoid losing my passport in the mail!).
While still in Union Station, which, by the way, is an impressive and majestic building, I asked the first of many people for directions. This would continue to be a trend for me throughout the course of the day and allowed me to meet some interesting, friendly, and nice people of Washington, D.C. Nearly everyone I met tried to point me in the direction I needed to go and were pleasant in their responses. I have found this a great way to get a feel for a city and was pleased to have such a warm and welcome reception upon arriving in D.C.
I next headed outside in search of Farragut Medical Center and somewhere to get my passport photos taken. It was about noon when I walked outside and already the temperature was in the nineties. I had a general idea about which direction I needed to head and started walking West along Massachusetts Avenue. Nearly everywhere I went there were people around, many tourists like myself, but also many international businessmen/women and federal employees as well as some of D.C.’s approximately 5,320 homeless residents (I got this figure from the National Alliance to End Homelessness on www.endhomelessness.org). After walking for awhile, now on Pennsylvania Avenue, I started approaching a building surrounded by a seven or eight foot fence. As I continued to walk towards this building I realized it was The White House and found it almost comical that I had ‘stumbled’ upon one of the US’s most notable landmarks. This is one of D.C.’s interesting and unique features: everywhere you go or turn around there is a historic landmark associated with our nation’s history. Across from the White House I saw several protestors, one woman was protesting atomic weapons and another man had a sign outlining all the ‘evils’ he believed President Obama is responsible for, including the Rwandan genocide (a bit of a stretch I think).
Around the time I passed the White House I found a CVS pharmacy that offered ‘Passport Style Photos in Minutes.’ They certainly lived up to their claim and a few minutes later I walked out with my photos and one of my three objectives accomplished. The next item on my agenda was finding Farragut Medical Center (FMC). This proved to be a much more difficult and cumbersome affair, caused largely by the somewhat complicated street system of D.C. Rather than being a neat and orderly grid system, D.C.‘s streets resemble more of a spider web shape with avenues and streets going in all directions and meeting at intersections that look more like stars than they do crosses. In the time between leaving CVS and finding FMC I asked at least three people for directions (including a street vendor selling African dashikis, something I was looking for online just prior to the start of my trip; I bought one for $15) and walked past the clinic twice before finally finding it. By the time I got to the clinic I had been walking for a couple hours and was really hungry, which had made me quite frustrated and irritable. I should note that I was carrying all of my things with me this whole time, which consisted my backpacking bag and my day pack bag. I would guess this added forty or fifty pounds and definitely contributed to me being so hungry. As soon as I got in the clinic I ate my lunch: hummus and veggies. I probably raised some eyebrows when I whipped out my bag of lettuce and carrots and began dipping them in my hummus right in the waiting room, but I didn’t really care at that point. The doctor’s visit ended up being rather quick and I walked out of FMC with the letter I needed and my second of three objectives completed. One interesting thing worth noting is that the doctor who saw me is a North Dakota native who attended medical school at UND in Grand Forks. We discussed our own North Dakota experiences and she wished me well in Yemen.
At this point I had all the materials I needed to get my Visa, so I headed in the direction of the Yemen Embassy. Again, this was not an entirely straightforward venture and I had to ask for directions several times, which allowed me to meet a really cool guy named Cesar. Cesar was standing on the street doing some outreach for the organization he works for, which aims to provide education and other services to disadvantaged children. After asking him for directions we struck up a conversation and I explained to him why I was trying to find the Yemen Embassy. Cesar then told me that he recently got back from living and teaching overseas for two years in SE Asia. Prior to this he had worked with the Department of Defense in the D.C. area for seven years, but did not find the work he was doing to be fulfilling enough. He and I had a lot in common including a desire to travel and see other parts of the world, an indifference towards religion, and a passion for doing good and leaving a positive mark on the world. Cesar was really interested in my employer, Quality Schools International, and asked a lot of questions about the work they do. I was happy to talk about this and upon parting ways gave him my business card in the hopes that he will email me. This chance meeting was a wonderful surprise and provided a nice break from walking and hauling my bags.
Once I left Cesar I continued to head north on Connecticut Avenue in search of Wyoming Avenue, on which the Yemen Embassy is located. I knew I was heading in the right direction when I saw a sign that said Embassy Row, named so due to the large number of foreign embassies located there. Not long after this I made it to Wyoming Avenue and began to see various embassies representing nations from all over the world. To best describe Embassy Row is to compare it to the streets of University towns where fraternity and sorority houses are located except that the houses are more stately and the greek letters are replaced by signs denoting the nations represented. As I walked down Embassy Row, scanning the different buildings in search of a sign for Yemen, I found it fascinating to see so many different nations represented: Algeria, The Republic of Macedonia, Sri Lanka, Syria, and many others.
One might assume I had no more problems with my Visa experience, but the fun was not over yet. Since I could not remember the embassy’s building number off the top of my head and did not feel like digging in my bags to find it, I asked a couple walking down the street if they could point me in the right direction. They were very nice people and offered to look it up on one of their Blackberries as we talked. The husband asked me what was taking me to the Yemen Embassy, so I explained that I would be moving there in August to teach for a time. I then asked them where they were headed and was excited to hear that they are moving to Algiers, Algeria to work for the US State Department and were presently going to the Algerian Embassy to take care of business prior to their move. We visited for a few more minutes about this commonality before wishing one another well in our respective destinations. Now that I knew the building number and had viewed a map of the area, I thought I was home free. But the confusing twists and turns of D.C.’s streets got me again. I made the mistake of taking a left when I should have taken a right and started walking down Tracy Plaza. As I continued to walk down this street I saw a building with numbered 2419, the same number of the Yemen Embassy. There happened to be two Mexican men doing yard/landscaping work out front so I asked one of them to take my picture in front of the building, doing so because I was so excited at having found the ‘right building.’
I then knocked on the front door and began to suspect I was wrong when no one answered. I continued to knock and wait for a couple minutes, before calling the Embassy to further investigate. When my call was answered I explained that “I am standing out in front of the building, but the door is locked and no one is answering.” The woman at the embassy was nice enough to walk outside the building to look for me and was probably just as confused as I was when there was no one standing there. In a last ditch effort I walked around to the back of the house through an open wooden gate and asked the yard workers, now working in the back, how to get into the Embassy. The men, looking surprised, then informed me this was not the Yemen Embassy but was in fact someone’s home. At this point I was feeling somewhat frustrated and wondering if I would ever find this damned embassy. I was also getting tired of lugging around all my bags and I found it harder to trick myself into thinking it was preparation for climbing Kilimanjaro in a few months.
Nevertheless, I walked back the way I came and again called the embassy. I explained to them that I had taken a wrong turn and described the location I was calling from. They were then able to steer me in the ‘real’ right direction and soon I was back on Embassy Row and standing in front of the correct 2419 address. I then walked into the Embassy and was greeted by Ali Mohammed AlSalahi, whom I had spoken on the phone with earlier and who was staying late just to help me. I began to explain to him why I was applying for a Yemeni Visa and presented all of my application materials to him including my recently procured passport style photos and doctor’s note. He then asked me to provide the $91.00 fee to cover the Visa expenses. Since I had run out of cash earlier in the day, I asked if he accepted check cards. He told me they did not and that only cash was used. Having no other options, I asked where the nearest ATM was located and explained that I would have to walk to one since I did not have a vehicle. He told me the nearest one was back at the bottom of the hill I had just walked up on Connecticut Avenue, about half a mile away. Feeling much lighter now without two bags attached to me, I walked/ran back down the hill to the Rite Aid Pharmacy, grabbed the cash I needed, and walked/ran back up the hill to the embassy. In the time I was gone Mr. AlSalahi had finished my paperwork and he and I exchanged the goods we each desired: for me, my passport with the newly attached Yemeni Visa and for Mr. AlSalahi the cash for the Visa application fee. I thanked Mr. AlSalahi for staying late for me and he wished me well in Yemen. He also gave me his business card and told me I could contact him if I had any further questions.
I then walked out of the Embassy and after nearly five hours of walking/wandering around D.C. I had finally accomplished all of my objectives. As might be expected, I was pretty wore out so I contacted my cousin Julie to let her know I would be heading to their place (she and my cousin Dave were hosting me in Silver Spring, MD). On my way back to the Metro station I passed a small art gallery and stopped for twenty minutes to take in some of the art on display/exhibit there. I then rode the Metro to Silver Spring and was ripe with excitement to finally see my cousins and relax. The rest of the evening proved to be wonderful: the three of us enjoyed a delicious supper made by Julie and finished the evening by enjoying some great wine, including some Mead (a honey based drink made similarly to beer, but much better) that was made by a friend of them. As I went to bed that night, I reflected upon the events of my day and finally had a chance to realize what a ride it had been.
I started the day in New Jersey getting dropped off at the MetroPark AmTrak Station by friend Joe’s parents, Howie and Sue. They are great people and by giving me a ride saved me from having to get up an hour earlier. I enjoyed a quick and peaceful three hour train ride that passed through the cities of Trenton, NJ, Philadelphia, PA, and Baltimore, MD before arriving in Washington, D.C. This short leg also included scenic vistas of Chesapeake Bay and helped me better understand the term megalopolis, as it passed through an almost continuous stretch of urban development, punctuated only by short breaks of trees and large expanses of water.
Upon arriving in Washington I had three main objectives to be accomplished for the day: locate a business to get passport style photos taken, find Farragut Medical Center for a short doctor’s visit, and go to the Embassy of the Republic of Yemen to obtain my Visa. The reason I needed to visit a doctor was to procure a letter/note stating that I am free of communicable diseases and fit for travel/living overseas. All three of these tasks were for the same purpose: obtaining a Visa for my upcoming move to Yemen. I could have mailed all of these things to the Embassy and received my Visa that way, but I thought I would take advantage of being in D.C. and take care of it in person (and avoid losing my passport in the mail!).
While still in Union Station, which, by the way, is an impressive and majestic building, I asked the first of many people for directions. This would continue to be a trend for me throughout the course of the day and allowed me to meet some interesting, friendly, and nice people of Washington, D.C. Nearly everyone I met tried to point me in the direction I needed to go and were pleasant in their responses. I have found this a great way to get a feel for a city and was pleased to have such a warm and welcome reception upon arriving in D.C.
I next headed outside in search of Farragut Medical Center and somewhere to get my passport photos taken. It was about noon when I walked outside and already the temperature was in the nineties. I had a general idea about which direction I needed to head and started walking West along Massachusetts Avenue. Nearly everywhere I went there were people around, many tourists like myself, but also many international businessmen/women and federal employees as well as some of D.C.’s approximately 5,320 homeless residents (I got this figure from the National Alliance to End Homelessness on www.endhomelessness.org). After walking for awhile, now on Pennsylvania Avenue, I started approaching a building surrounded by a seven or eight foot fence. As I continued to walk towards this building I realized it was The White House and found it almost comical that I had ‘stumbled’ upon one of the US’s most notable landmarks. This is one of D.C.’s interesting and unique features: everywhere you go or turn around there is a historic landmark associated with our nation’s history. Across from the White House I saw several protestors, one woman was protesting atomic weapons and another man had a sign outlining all the ‘evils’ he believed President Obama is responsible for, including the Rwandan genocide (a bit of a stretch I think).
Around the time I passed the White House I found a CVS pharmacy that offered ‘Passport Style Photos in Minutes.’ They certainly lived up to their claim and a few minutes later I walked out with my photos and one of my three objectives accomplished. The next item on my agenda was finding Farragut Medical Center (FMC). This proved to be a much more difficult and cumbersome affair, caused largely by the somewhat complicated street system of D.C. Rather than being a neat and orderly grid system, D.C.‘s streets resemble more of a spider web shape with avenues and streets going in all directions and meeting at intersections that look more like stars than they do crosses. In the time between leaving CVS and finding FMC I asked at least three people for directions (including a street vendor selling African dashikis, something I was looking for online just prior to the start of my trip; I bought one for $15) and walked past the clinic twice before finally finding it. By the time I got to the clinic I had been walking for a couple hours and was really hungry, which had made me quite frustrated and irritable. I should note that I was carrying all of my things with me this whole time, which consisted my backpacking bag and my day pack bag. I would guess this added forty or fifty pounds and definitely contributed to me being so hungry. As soon as I got in the clinic I ate my lunch: hummus and veggies. I probably raised some eyebrows when I whipped out my bag of lettuce and carrots and began dipping them in my hummus right in the waiting room, but I didn’t really care at that point. The doctor’s visit ended up being rather quick and I walked out of FMC with the letter I needed and my second of three objectives completed. One interesting thing worth noting is that the doctor who saw me is a North Dakota native who attended medical school at UND in Grand Forks. We discussed our own North Dakota experiences and she wished me well in Yemen.
At this point I had all the materials I needed to get my Visa, so I headed in the direction of the Yemen Embassy. Again, this was not an entirely straightforward venture and I had to ask for directions several times, which allowed me to meet a really cool guy named Cesar. Cesar was standing on the street doing some outreach for the organization he works for, which aims to provide education and other services to disadvantaged children. After asking him for directions we struck up a conversation and I explained to him why I was trying to find the Yemen Embassy. Cesar then told me that he recently got back from living and teaching overseas for two years in SE Asia. Prior to this he had worked with the Department of Defense in the D.C. area for seven years, but did not find the work he was doing to be fulfilling enough. He and I had a lot in common including a desire to travel and see other parts of the world, an indifference towards religion, and a passion for doing good and leaving a positive mark on the world. Cesar was really interested in my employer, Quality Schools International, and asked a lot of questions about the work they do. I was happy to talk about this and upon parting ways gave him my business card in the hopes that he will email me. This chance meeting was a wonderful surprise and provided a nice break from walking and hauling my bags.
Once I left Cesar I continued to head north on Connecticut Avenue in search of Wyoming Avenue, on which the Yemen Embassy is located. I knew I was heading in the right direction when I saw a sign that said Embassy Row, named so due to the large number of foreign embassies located there. Not long after this I made it to Wyoming Avenue and began to see various embassies representing nations from all over the world. To best describe Embassy Row is to compare it to the streets of University towns where fraternity and sorority houses are located except that the houses are more stately and the greek letters are replaced by signs denoting the nations represented. As I walked down Embassy Row, scanning the different buildings in search of a sign for Yemen, I found it fascinating to see so many different nations represented: Algeria, The Republic of Macedonia, Sri Lanka, Syria, and many others.
One might assume I had no more problems with my Visa experience, but the fun was not over yet. Since I could not remember the embassy’s building number off the top of my head and did not feel like digging in my bags to find it, I asked a couple walking down the street if they could point me in the right direction. They were very nice people and offered to look it up on one of their Blackberries as we talked. The husband asked me what was taking me to the Yemen Embassy, so I explained that I would be moving there in August to teach for a time. I then asked them where they were headed and was excited to hear that they are moving to Algiers, Algeria to work for the US State Department and were presently going to the Algerian Embassy to take care of business prior to their move. We visited for a few more minutes about this commonality before wishing one another well in our respective destinations. Now that I knew the building number and had viewed a map of the area, I thought I was home free. But the confusing twists and turns of D.C.’s streets got me again. I made the mistake of taking a left when I should have taken a right and started walking down Tracy Plaza. As I continued to walk down this street I saw a building with numbered 2419, the same number of the Yemen Embassy. There happened to be two Mexican men doing yard/landscaping work out front so I asked one of them to take my picture in front of the building, doing so because I was so excited at having found the ‘right building.’
I then knocked on the front door and began to suspect I was wrong when no one answered. I continued to knock and wait for a couple minutes, before calling the Embassy to further investigate. When my call was answered I explained that “I am standing out in front of the building, but the door is locked and no one is answering.” The woman at the embassy was nice enough to walk outside the building to look for me and was probably just as confused as I was when there was no one standing there. In a last ditch effort I walked around to the back of the house through an open wooden gate and asked the yard workers, now working in the back, how to get into the Embassy. The men, looking surprised, then informed me this was not the Yemen Embassy but was in fact someone’s home. At this point I was feeling somewhat frustrated and wondering if I would ever find this damned embassy. I was also getting tired of lugging around all my bags and I found it harder to trick myself into thinking it was preparation for climbing Kilimanjaro in a few months.
Nevertheless, I walked back the way I came and again called the embassy. I explained to them that I had taken a wrong turn and described the location I was calling from. They were then able to steer me in the ‘real’ right direction and soon I was back on Embassy Row and standing in front of the correct 2419 address. I then walked into the Embassy and was greeted by Ali Mohammed AlSalahi, whom I had spoken on the phone with earlier and who was staying late just to help me. I began to explain to him why I was applying for a Yemeni Visa and presented all of my application materials to him including my recently procured passport style photos and doctor’s note. He then asked me to provide the $91.00 fee to cover the Visa expenses. Since I had run out of cash earlier in the day, I asked if he accepted check cards. He told me they did not and that only cash was used. Having no other options, I asked where the nearest ATM was located and explained that I would have to walk to one since I did not have a vehicle. He told me the nearest one was back at the bottom of the hill I had just walked up on Connecticut Avenue, about half a mile away. Feeling much lighter now without two bags attached to me, I walked/ran back down the hill to the Rite Aid Pharmacy, grabbed the cash I needed, and walked/ran back up the hill to the embassy. In the time I was gone Mr. AlSalahi had finished my paperwork and he and I exchanged the goods we each desired: for me, my passport with the newly attached Yemeni Visa and for Mr. AlSalahi the cash for the Visa application fee. I thanked Mr. AlSalahi for staying late for me and he wished me well in Yemen. He also gave me his business card and told me I could contact him if I had any further questions.
I then walked out of the Embassy and after nearly five hours of walking/wandering around D.C. I had finally accomplished all of my objectives. As might be expected, I was pretty wore out so I contacted my cousin Julie to let her know I would be heading to their place (she and my cousin Dave were hosting me in Silver Spring, MD). On my way back to the Metro station I passed a small art gallery and stopped for twenty minutes to take in some of the art on display/exhibit there. I then rode the Metro to Silver Spring and was ripe with excitement to finally see my cousins and relax. The rest of the evening proved to be wonderful: the three of us enjoyed a delicious supper made by Julie and finished the evening by enjoying some great wine, including some Mead (a honey based drink made similarly to beer, but much better) that was made by a friend of them. As I went to bed that night, I reflected upon the events of my day and finally had a chance to realize what a ride it had been.
02 July 2010
New York: A Walking Tour
New York: A Walking Tour
As I sit now, back at my friend Joe’s in New Jersey, I feel I am finally able to reflect upon New York and my experience in that incredible city. In the two days I spent there, Joe and I traversed over 250 blocks and twelve miles of New York. We visited two museums: The American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) and The Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met), which collectively allowed us to view some of life’s greatest wonders, both natural and man-made; walked the entire length of Central Park twice and enjoyed lunch on its grassy lawn; passed by countless historic landmarks (including The Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, Apollo Theater, Flatiron Building, Guggenheim Museum, NYU and Columbia University, Grand Central Station, Madison Square Garden and Penn Station, and many others); saw some of New York’s talented street performers; explored some of New York’s famed sections, such as Chinatown, Little Italy, Greenwich Village, and Times Square; and spent the night hanging out in Harlem with a good friend of Joe’s (and now me too!).
After I write all of this, it is almost hard to believe we packed this much living into such a short amount of time. From the moment Joe and I stepped off our train in Penn Station to the time we then stepped back on the train to head to Woodbridge (NJ), we were seeing and doing as much as we possible could. Each minute was filled with awe and wonder as I attempted to soak in and absorb everything I could about New York. Each block we traversed was a study in itself: the passing faces and the lives behind them provide an apt cross-section of America unlike perhaps anywhere else in the United States. Billboards, advertisements, scrolling marquees, shops, clothing, and other examples of pop culture tell the story of modern America and allow one to learn a great deal about our society and culture, both positively and negatively. From all of these ‘artifacts’ one is able to glean much about the values system in the US and better understand the image that is projected to the rest of the world about this nation.
As I walked around I also tried to imagine New York as it would have looked during its early years of existence. I thought of the millions of immigrants who came to New York seeking a better life and attempted to conceptualize what it would be like to give up everything I have and know in search of greener grass. As I ponder this, now retrospectively, I realize that my own upcoming move to Yemen is quite similar, and would like to digress for a moment to examine this similarity. Yemen, specifically Sana’a, will be entirely different from everything I currently know life to be: different language, religion (though this will not be difficult for me), culture, diet (something I am looking forward to!), transportation system, and so on. Perhaps the greatest differences between my quest and that of America’s early immigrants are the circumstances leading to my move. I am not moving to Yemen for lack of opportunity or employment in the US, nor because I am terribly unhappy or oppressed. I am moving because of a deep sense of wanderlust and a strong desire/passion to expand my world perspective and challenge my perception of life. I feel privileged, and indeed am, to have the ability to move out of my own volition and to move freely about this great planet we call HOME.
Back to New York, though. An interesting and somewhat ironic observation, or understanding, I made was while visiting both the AMNH and the Met. As mentioned in the beginning of this post, these two museums feature some of this life’s greatest wonders. The AMNH offers some of life’s greatest natural wonders including the great diversity of flora and fauna of planet Earth, the great expanse of the cosmos, and the earliest history of mankind, while the Met offers some of life’s greatest man-made creations including Egyptian artifacts and art; Medieval armor, art, ironwork, and weaponry; European portraits and sculptures; and an entire wing dedicated to Modern Art. The irony was this: here I am, in one of the busiest and most developed centers of modern civilization, surrounded by towering examples of mankind’s creation, and I sit studying some of the earliest, most basic, and, sometimes, tiny representations of mankind’s quest for autonomy over its milieu. In addition to this irony was the great disparity in the overall mood and environment between the hectic flow of traffic, both people and vehicles, throughout the streets/area of New York compared to the relative quietude and calm of these two great museums. These two museums were not without their own hubbub and liveliness; certain sections were much busier and noisier than others, but on the whole there was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere between the museums and the streets of New York. Perhaps nowhere was this more apparent than in the Modern Art section of the Met, which happened to be one of my favorite sections. This also happened to be the last wing or exhibit I visited prior to making my exit back into the streets of New York. It was because of this, I believe, that I noticed such a difference in the mood of these two environments.
In sum, I had a wonderful time during my brief stay in New York. It is truly unlike anyplace else and is rich, saturated in fact, with culture, activity, diversity, and human development. My only complaint about New York is that I was not able to stay longer. The great part about travel, though, is that it can be repeated and favorite places can be revisited (especially when you know someone in the host city!). There is much more I would like to share, but this short discourse will have to do.
Namaste,
JOE
As I sit now, back at my friend Joe’s in New Jersey, I feel I am finally able to reflect upon New York and my experience in that incredible city. In the two days I spent there, Joe and I traversed over 250 blocks and twelve miles of New York. We visited two museums: The American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) and The Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met), which collectively allowed us to view some of life’s greatest wonders, both natural and man-made; walked the entire length of Central Park twice and enjoyed lunch on its grassy lawn; passed by countless historic landmarks (including The Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, Apollo Theater, Flatiron Building, Guggenheim Museum, NYU and Columbia University, Grand Central Station, Madison Square Garden and Penn Station, and many others); saw some of New York’s talented street performers; explored some of New York’s famed sections, such as Chinatown, Little Italy, Greenwich Village, and Times Square; and spent the night hanging out in Harlem with a good friend of Joe’s (and now me too!).
After I write all of this, it is almost hard to believe we packed this much living into such a short amount of time. From the moment Joe and I stepped off our train in Penn Station to the time we then stepped back on the train to head to Woodbridge (NJ), we were seeing and doing as much as we possible could. Each minute was filled with awe and wonder as I attempted to soak in and absorb everything I could about New York. Each block we traversed was a study in itself: the passing faces and the lives behind them provide an apt cross-section of America unlike perhaps anywhere else in the United States. Billboards, advertisements, scrolling marquees, shops, clothing, and other examples of pop culture tell the story of modern America and allow one to learn a great deal about our society and culture, both positively and negatively. From all of these ‘artifacts’ one is able to glean much about the values system in the US and better understand the image that is projected to the rest of the world about this nation.
As I walked around I also tried to imagine New York as it would have looked during its early years of existence. I thought of the millions of immigrants who came to New York seeking a better life and attempted to conceptualize what it would be like to give up everything I have and know in search of greener grass. As I ponder this, now retrospectively, I realize that my own upcoming move to Yemen is quite similar, and would like to digress for a moment to examine this similarity. Yemen, specifically Sana’a, will be entirely different from everything I currently know life to be: different language, religion (though this will not be difficult for me), culture, diet (something I am looking forward to!), transportation system, and so on. Perhaps the greatest differences between my quest and that of America’s early immigrants are the circumstances leading to my move. I am not moving to Yemen for lack of opportunity or employment in the US, nor because I am terribly unhappy or oppressed. I am moving because of a deep sense of wanderlust and a strong desire/passion to expand my world perspective and challenge my perception of life. I feel privileged, and indeed am, to have the ability to move out of my own volition and to move freely about this great planet we call HOME.
Back to New York, though. An interesting and somewhat ironic observation, or understanding, I made was while visiting both the AMNH and the Met. As mentioned in the beginning of this post, these two museums feature some of this life’s greatest wonders. The AMNH offers some of life’s greatest natural wonders including the great diversity of flora and fauna of planet Earth, the great expanse of the cosmos, and the earliest history of mankind, while the Met offers some of life’s greatest man-made creations including Egyptian artifacts and art; Medieval armor, art, ironwork, and weaponry; European portraits and sculptures; and an entire wing dedicated to Modern Art. The irony was this: here I am, in one of the busiest and most developed centers of modern civilization, surrounded by towering examples of mankind’s creation, and I sit studying some of the earliest, most basic, and, sometimes, tiny representations of mankind’s quest for autonomy over its milieu. In addition to this irony was the great disparity in the overall mood and environment between the hectic flow of traffic, both people and vehicles, throughout the streets/area of New York compared to the relative quietude and calm of these two great museums. These two museums were not without their own hubbub and liveliness; certain sections were much busier and noisier than others, but on the whole there was a noticeable difference in the atmosphere between the museums and the streets of New York. Perhaps nowhere was this more apparent than in the Modern Art section of the Met, which happened to be one of my favorite sections. This also happened to be the last wing or exhibit I visited prior to making my exit back into the streets of New York. It was because of this, I believe, that I noticed such a difference in the mood of these two environments.
In sum, I had a wonderful time during my brief stay in New York. It is truly unlike anyplace else and is rich, saturated in fact, with culture, activity, diversity, and human development. My only complaint about New York is that I was not able to stay longer. The great part about travel, though, is that it can be repeated and favorite places can be revisited (especially when you know someone in the host city!). There is much more I would like to share, but this short discourse will have to do.
Namaste,
JOE
29 June 2010
Minneapolis - A City of the Arts
Minneapolis: A City of the Arts
In addition to checking out local live music, another traveling past time of mine (and one that is quickly becoming one of my favorites) is visiting art galleries. Prior to my arrival in Minneapolis I did some research and located several free galleries worth visiting. Fortunately, my friend Zach also enjoys taking in art exhibits and accompanied me on all the gallery visits. The first one we attended was the Thomas Barry Fine Arts Center, a small basement gallery located in the heart of the Old Warehouse District of Minneapolis. The artist featured during our visit was a local, David Lefkowitz, and had roughly twenty seven works on display in an exhibit entitled at or below see level, which features a unique play on words that will be further explained shortly.
The first thing visible upon entering the gallery was a chest-high wall with four paintings fixed on it at the very bottom near the floor. These four paintings were a major part of the at or below see level concept and consisted of skyscapes that were named for four cities or locations whose elevation is “at sea level or below.” The concept, which was described in greater detail by one of the hosts working at the gallery, is that these four locations (Venice, Italy; Seychelles; Maldives; Netherlands) will be submerged under water if current rising sea level trends continue. To further add to this effect, Lefkowitz cut the bottom half of these picture frames off and placed the pictures flush with the floor to give the idea that the cities have already disappeared. I found this concept interesting and effective, and
Also included in the at or below see level concept was an installation piece covering a five feet by ten feet section of wall. The installation’s medium was sticks/twigs and hot glue, the latter of which was used to attach the former to the wall in such a fashion that it created the image of waves coming in from out at sea. This piece was one of the highlights of Lefkowitz’s exhibit and, at least according to the hostess working, took him nearly two weeks to install in the gallery. When one looked closely at this work and each individual twig affixed to the wall, it was easy to see the painstaking detail the undertaking involved. Nonetheless, an interesting and enjoyable exhibit.
Located one floor above the Thomas Barry Fine Arts Center was Indigo, a Fair Trade African/Asian Folk Art store. Since we were already at this building and had no other pressing plans, Zach and I decided to check it out. After spending a few minutes in the store and visiting with the woman working there, I found out the store belonged to she and her husband. Her name was Mary and in the brief conversation we shared I was able to see quite easily how passionate she is about Folk Art. As I listened to her help other customers I heard her describe interesting facts and details about the wares in the store, and saw her pour out a part of her that seems very dear to her. Although neither of us purchased anything at the store (due partly because of the high prices and my desire to avoid accumulating possessions), it was definitely worth the visit.
One of Minneapolis’s greatest collections of art can be found at the Walker Art Center, which offers free admission every Thursday from 5:00 - 9:00. To help save a few bucks (admission is normally $10) Zach and I hit up the Walker Center along with another good friend, Kate, who happened to be in the Twin Cities area. Although we only had about 50 minutes at the Walker Center and could have easily spent an entire day here, we were able to take in a fair amount of the different exhibits currently being featured. First there was 1964, an exhibit dedicated to art from the 1960s and featuring Andy Warhol inspired Pop Art, art deco, and other works from this era. This collection featured items from a wide variety of mediums including plaster of Paris sculptures, paintings, metal sculptures, and what I thought was perhaps the most unique: a work made of sewn cloth and stuffed with cotton to represent a pouch of shoestring potatoes spilling out. This piece was roughly six feet high from top to bottom and was suspended from the ceiling using wire. I have never seen a piece quite like it and imagine it will stick with me for some time.
The Walker Center also had an exhibit dedicated to art that is focused on the recent promulgation of social media and the way it allows people to broadcast oneself. Highlights of this included a work completed by a New York artist (I can’t remember her name) that chronicled her last months of life as she battled with cancer. The work consisted of sixteen television screens/monitors simultaneously showing different videos of her shot by her husband. The videos ranged from her lying naked in a bathtub to putting makeup on in front of the mirror to her talking/laughing/crying almost concomitantly. In all this work seemed to capture the full gamut of human emotions and provided a very honest representation of the cancer process. Another highlight was a work completed by a Japanese artist (again I can not remember the name) who pushed the limitations of art and saw himself almost as a a performance artist, though not in the traditional sense at all. The work of his on display was a sign he made of himself that was more or less a wanted poster and included all of his identifying information (including a photo, fingerprints, height, weight, DOB) as well as the offense he committed (illegally immigrating to the US) and who to contact/report him to (the NY Port Authority, I think?). Other projects this man completed include spending an entire year in NYC without entering a building and spending a year locked in a cage in his studio without speaking, writing, reading, or talking. Definitely a different path to take in life, but interesting nonetheless. This exhibit had much more to offer, but I can not summarize it in its entirety.
One final highlight from the Walker Center was an installation dedicated to Jimi Hendrix. This took up an an entire room and had six large hammocks attached to opposite sides of the room. The walls had alternating projections of 60s inspired psychedelic Hendrix photos that were complemented by the final touch: Hendrix music blaring from speakers around the room. The artist’s intent was for the viewer/audience to lay in the hammocks and bask in the sounds and sights of Jimi Hendrix and the 60s. Very cool to say the least.
The final art gallery I visited in the Twin Cities was Jean Stephen Art Galleries, a small gallery located near Nicollet Mall in Minneapolis. This gallery featured a number of local Twin Cities artists and had an exclusive collection of work by Theodore Geisel, more commonly known as Dr. Seuss. The collection of Dr. Seuss art was easily the highlight of this place and was a real treat to see. Zach and I spoke with the woman working at the gallery about his work, and she explained that he had not actually intended for any of his work to be sold or, for that matter, even viewed! He did not think any of his art was good enough for these purposes, but after viewing half a room of his work I disagree with him (I think he would lose this argument with most people). His paintings are definitely reminiscent of Dr. Seuss’s books, but tend to explore deeper subjects and are sometimes even more far out than the artwork in his books. The other highlight from the Jean Stephen Galleries was the work featured by Randy Cooper, which were called shadow sculptures. His ‘sculptures’ are made with iron wire mesh and are almost solely of the human form, primarily the female form. The process to create his sculptures is very time consuming and tedious, but results in beautiful and interesting works. The really fun part about his sculptures is seeing the different shadows created when his sculptures are moved near light sources. It is hard to describe, but the shadows cast by the sculptures are in some was more lifelike and real than the sculptures themselves. The best thing to do would be to go see these for yourself. :-)
This concludes my venture into the world of art in Minneapolis. Be sure to check out the album titled Minneapolis in my pictures. You can access them by clicking the scrolling pictures at the top of the blog page. I hope you enjoy!
In addition to checking out local live music, another traveling past time of mine (and one that is quickly becoming one of my favorites) is visiting art galleries. Prior to my arrival in Minneapolis I did some research and located several free galleries worth visiting. Fortunately, my friend Zach also enjoys taking in art exhibits and accompanied me on all the gallery visits. The first one we attended was the Thomas Barry Fine Arts Center, a small basement gallery located in the heart of the Old Warehouse District of Minneapolis. The artist featured during our visit was a local, David Lefkowitz, and had roughly twenty seven works on display in an exhibit entitled at or below see level, which features a unique play on words that will be further explained shortly.
The first thing visible upon entering the gallery was a chest-high wall with four paintings fixed on it at the very bottom near the floor. These four paintings were a major part of the at or below see level concept and consisted of skyscapes that were named for four cities or locations whose elevation is “at sea level or below.” The concept, which was described in greater detail by one of the hosts working at the gallery, is that these four locations (Venice, Italy; Seychelles; Maldives; Netherlands) will be submerged under water if current rising sea level trends continue. To further add to this effect, Lefkowitz cut the bottom half of these picture frames off and placed the pictures flush with the floor to give the idea that the cities have already disappeared. I found this concept interesting and effective, and
Also included in the at or below see level concept was an installation piece covering a five feet by ten feet section of wall. The installation’s medium was sticks/twigs and hot glue, the latter of which was used to attach the former to the wall in such a fashion that it created the image of waves coming in from out at sea. This piece was one of the highlights of Lefkowitz’s exhibit and, at least according to the hostess working, took him nearly two weeks to install in the gallery. When one looked closely at this work and each individual twig affixed to the wall, it was easy to see the painstaking detail the undertaking involved. Nonetheless, an interesting and enjoyable exhibit.
Located one floor above the Thomas Barry Fine Arts Center was Indigo, a Fair Trade African/Asian Folk Art store. Since we were already at this building and had no other pressing plans, Zach and I decided to check it out. After spending a few minutes in the store and visiting with the woman working there, I found out the store belonged to she and her husband. Her name was Mary and in the brief conversation we shared I was able to see quite easily how passionate she is about Folk Art. As I listened to her help other customers I heard her describe interesting facts and details about the wares in the store, and saw her pour out a part of her that seems very dear to her. Although neither of us purchased anything at the store (due partly because of the high prices and my desire to avoid accumulating possessions), it was definitely worth the visit.
One of Minneapolis’s greatest collections of art can be found at the Walker Art Center, which offers free admission every Thursday from 5:00 - 9:00. To help save a few bucks (admission is normally $10) Zach and I hit up the Walker Center along with another good friend, Kate, who happened to be in the Twin Cities area. Although we only had about 50 minutes at the Walker Center and could have easily spent an entire day here, we were able to take in a fair amount of the different exhibits currently being featured. First there was 1964, an exhibit dedicated to art from the 1960s and featuring Andy Warhol inspired Pop Art, art deco, and other works from this era. This collection featured items from a wide variety of mediums including plaster of Paris sculptures, paintings, metal sculptures, and what I thought was perhaps the most unique: a work made of sewn cloth and stuffed with cotton to represent a pouch of shoestring potatoes spilling out. This piece was roughly six feet high from top to bottom and was suspended from the ceiling using wire. I have never seen a piece quite like it and imagine it will stick with me for some time.
The Walker Center also had an exhibit dedicated to art that is focused on the recent promulgation of social media and the way it allows people to broadcast oneself. Highlights of this included a work completed by a New York artist (I can’t remember her name) that chronicled her last months of life as she battled with cancer. The work consisted of sixteen television screens/monitors simultaneously showing different videos of her shot by her husband. The videos ranged from her lying naked in a bathtub to putting makeup on in front of the mirror to her talking/laughing/crying almost concomitantly. In all this work seemed to capture the full gamut of human emotions and provided a very honest representation of the cancer process. Another highlight was a work completed by a Japanese artist (again I can not remember the name) who pushed the limitations of art and saw himself almost as a a performance artist, though not in the traditional sense at all. The work of his on display was a sign he made of himself that was more or less a wanted poster and included all of his identifying information (including a photo, fingerprints, height, weight, DOB) as well as the offense he committed (illegally immigrating to the US) and who to contact/report him to (the NY Port Authority, I think?). Other projects this man completed include spending an entire year in NYC without entering a building and spending a year locked in a cage in his studio without speaking, writing, reading, or talking. Definitely a different path to take in life, but interesting nonetheless. This exhibit had much more to offer, but I can not summarize it in its entirety.
One final highlight from the Walker Center was an installation dedicated to Jimi Hendrix. This took up an an entire room and had six large hammocks attached to opposite sides of the room. The walls had alternating projections of 60s inspired psychedelic Hendrix photos that were complemented by the final touch: Hendrix music blaring from speakers around the room. The artist’s intent was for the viewer/audience to lay in the hammocks and bask in the sounds and sights of Jimi Hendrix and the 60s. Very cool to say the least.
The final art gallery I visited in the Twin Cities was Jean Stephen Art Galleries, a small gallery located near Nicollet Mall in Minneapolis. This gallery featured a number of local Twin Cities artists and had an exclusive collection of work by Theodore Geisel, more commonly known as Dr. Seuss. The collection of Dr. Seuss art was easily the highlight of this place and was a real treat to see. Zach and I spoke with the woman working at the gallery about his work, and she explained that he had not actually intended for any of his work to be sold or, for that matter, even viewed! He did not think any of his art was good enough for these purposes, but after viewing half a room of his work I disagree with him (I think he would lose this argument with most people). His paintings are definitely reminiscent of Dr. Seuss’s books, but tend to explore deeper subjects and are sometimes even more far out than the artwork in his books. The other highlight from the Jean Stephen Galleries was the work featured by Randy Cooper, which were called shadow sculptures. His ‘sculptures’ are made with iron wire mesh and are almost solely of the human form, primarily the female form. The process to create his sculptures is very time consuming and tedious, but results in beautiful and interesting works. The really fun part about his sculptures is seeing the different shadows created when his sculptures are moved near light sources. It is hard to describe, but the shadows cast by the sculptures are in some was more lifelike and real than the sculptures themselves. The best thing to do would be to go see these for yourself. :-)
This concludes my venture into the world of art in Minneapolis. Be sure to check out the album titled Minneapolis in my pictures. You can access them by clicking the scrolling pictures at the top of the blog page. I hope you enjoy!
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