How I Spent My Holidays

And, we're back. Welcome to a new year! I hope you all had a great holiday season. Truth be told, I'm still on my vacation and spending time with family in North Carolina. I guess it's really time to get back into the swing of things, and there's a lot to blog about after a two week hiatus. I'll keep it light, sharing a few photographed high points with y'all, babydolls. (I'm in North Carolina visiting Aunt Jenny and family, and loving how Aunt Jenny calls everybody babydoll.)The story starts back in the Holy Land, where we made a jaunt out to Bethlehem to soak up the atmosphere of Manger Square on Christmas Eve. (I drove and we got into two collisions, both of which may have been my fault, but I was saved by a refugee camp tribal elder who witnessed what happened and kept me and Charming from being word-lashed or chain-whipped by an angry cab driver. Later I accidentally pinched a child's finger in my window as I was rolling it up while he was trying to beg for money from us. Parentheses mean I'm keeping it light, right?)Once we finally made it to Manger Square, I enjoyed strolling around, smelling the corn and candy vendors and sipping hot chocolate with our young friends (the kids of one Charming's co-workers that we are friends with).

Especially delightful were the row of large Nativity displays, all in unique styles. This one had a glowing, realistic-looking "fire-pit" lightbulb. It was quite large - the whole display was as tall as me.

 And it wouldn't be the Middle East without a Santa playing soccer.

 

Back in the summer when I first visited Bethlehem, I was struck by the carved olive-wood Nativity scenes that included a modern piece in addition to the standard holy family, shepherds,  angels, and wise men: a security wall.

The wall is still being built around Bethlehem, slowing cutting them off from the tourist trade that keeps the economy alive.Charming's birthday was just a couple days later. We went to Tel Aviv, which is always a haven of sane driving, good food, and often, good weather compared to the West Bank. We drank beer at a bar that was practically on the beach.We found a cafe we went to lunch to, and then later for dessert. They sang Happy Birthday to Charming in English.This cafe served me one of the most beautiful Chai Lattes I've ever seen, and a tofu sandwich that was stunningly delicious and filling.

Later, I climbed a modern, artistic rope jungle gym that gave me a great view of the sea at sunset.

Then I got on an airplane, leaving Charming behind (he had work to do) and went to North Carolina for a  friends and family visit and to enjoy the ease of life in America.  I started off meeting my friend Julie's firstborn.  It's so crazy when a human being goes from being in someone's body...

...to outside and interacting with this crazy world. It was so fun to see their perfect baby look around and smile. It gives me such a great hope to know that his parents will love him with everything they've got as he grows up and experiences more of the world. Charming and I see a lot of kids who from a young age work between the tires, darting in and out of moving traffic as they hope to beg a few shekels from each car. Julie's baby will never have to do that, and that makes me so glad.

After a few days with the old college friends, it was down to Lumberton, where family members looked rather smashing in the Kafiyas I bought them at the factory in Hebron.

Lots of cuddly time with Binks the family dog, who my sister calls a "living teddy bear."

My wonderful cousin got engaged to his beautiful girlfriend back in November, so they let me take a quick engagement photo session. It was rainy and I didn't adjust the camera settings correctly, but a few of the shots turned out. This one's my favorite:

And that about brings us up to the present. Lots of good family time, and right now that means lots of time thinking about 3000 Miles to the Cure, which is my mom's main focus right now. Today we are in Charlotte visiting the Mulligans and were just brainstorming to help mom write a speech she'll be making in the near future about her bicycle race across the U.S.

In case you missed what my beautiful mom is doing, you can read this post, or just go straight to theFacebook page or the donate page if you've been meaning to donate five dollars for brain cancer research.Next stop, sunny Florida for a few days with Aunt Kelly and Uncle Mark and my grandparents, then back to Lumberton quickly and finally back to my Charming who I already miss too much.Happy 2013!

There is No Cure

At my pre-wedding ladies brunch back in May in North Carolina, I was surrounded by loving family, friends, and neighbors. I was touched at how many people came to Lumberton for the wedding - even most of my mom's big family, including her best-friend-sister, my beautiful Aunt Jenny. Aunt Jenny came to the brunch with all the other women, but she looked like she was in pain.She wrinkled her brow as she looked at me and said "you look beautiful, honey." I could see that her eyes were a combination of glassy and glossy from pain and perhaps tears. I asked her if she was okay and she said she wasn't feeling good, that she had a terrible headache.The headaches she experienced that wedding weekend were the first of a series of telling headaches that eventually led to a diagnosis of  stage IV Glioblastoma Multiforme, the most aggressive and malignant type of brain tumor. Currently, there is no cure.

This is a "worst nightmare" sort of situation for Aunt Jenny, her husband Ray, her children Charlie, Ethan, Timothy, Grace, and Joe, and all of those who love her.  Yet she and her family are handling it with the knowledge of being loved that is the only way they can find grace for each moment.My mom, Maria Parker, happens to be a world record holding cyclist, and she has a HUGE new goal.She's going to raise one million dollars for brain cancer research. Before you balk, I should tell you that my mom's world records are in ultra-distance cycling. She holds the women's world record for biking the most miles in 24 hours. She does not give up and she has stamina and persistence.

I love my mom so much, and she inspires me with her passion, her warmth, her loud laugh, and her kindness. In addition to being an endurance athlete, she is a counselor and Life Coach.  If you met her, you'd probably tell her all of your problems, she'd give you some down-to-earth advice, and you'd feel totally loved.  She seems to radiate pure love, and as someone who knows her very well, I can tell you that's the real her. It's authentic love all the way down. She's a leader worth following on this long path to raise a million dollars for brain cancer research.

She's going to raise this money via a very Packing Lust worthy event: a Race Across America. Yes, she's going to cycle across the entire U.S.A. in June 2013. I'm going to crew, so I'll make sure you know all about it as we travel from state to state, following my mom on her bicycle.Remember how I said there's no cure? It's true. Aunt Jenny will leave this life and go on to the next unless God steps in. Another word for God? The best part of you. The Love part. God is Love, and with the love in each of us, we can do this. We can change the outcome for future brain cancer victims by sharing the story of Jenny and Maria, and funding brain cancer research.  If 200,000 people give only $5 each, we'll meet our goal.Would you be willing to give $5 to brain cancer research today?And if you like this challenge, "like" it on Facebook.

With huge warm thanks,

Genevieve

Puppies and Soldiers

They might be able to sling guns and yell at elderly Palestinians all day, but when a puppy this cute was involved, it was a bit of a different story.

I drove up to my building with my new friend Eden last Wednesday night, and there was a tiny, adorable puppy hanging around outside my apartment. It wasn't Jelly, the puppy I previously introduced to you, but another puppy. That's right. After months of seeing zero puppies, two puppies came into my life within eleven days of each other. Naturally we asked around, realized she'd die soon if left alone, and took her in.Unsure whether my new guest was carrying any diseases, I took Friday afternoon to get her to the vet who was visiting the Atarot shelter where we adopted Jelly. The trip required my first experience with walking through Qalandia checkpoint, the area's most infamous checkpoint, and the one with the wall painted with graffiti that is featured in the news when they show the wall separating Israel from Palestine.

Usually I go in a car or taxi, but my taxi didn't have clearance to go through Qalandia. However, I was very motivated because this puppy had cried throughout two nights and I was worried he might be sick.

I waited and waited at the first of several prison-like turnstiles, where they have people walk through one by one, yelling, occasionally, through loudspeakers in Hebrew. I'm was holding the puppy in a box because I was afraid that he would poop or throw up in the taxi. It was cold and rainy, and the atmosphere at the checkpoint was filled with a mixture of fear and boredom. A young well-dressed woman translated for me and to asked the soldiers to open the handicap door so I could go through with my box, which was too big to pass through the turnstile. As she went through the tiny turnstile, which was only meant for one person at a time, an older man tried to squeeze in behind her. He had thick yellow fingernails and was playing with his cell phone, as if oblivious to what he was doing. What he was doing was pressing his body against that of the woman who had helped me. I watched as she turned around and spoke some harsh words in Arabic which had him backing up and apologizing for his obviously feigned non-attention.

Finally after several people who'd arrived after me had passed through the turnstile and a brief interrogation, I got to go through.

"What's in the box?" said the boy soldier, who looked like he was around 17. I opened it, and he said. "You are not allowed to bring dogs with you."

So I hold this tiny puppy...

 

...up to the glass window where the guardians sit. And you could see the two soldiers' little teenage hearts melting. Their eyes showed that they were calculating whether they could live with themselves if they denied this shivering adorable puppy access to health care. I could tell immediately that the answer for both of them was no. They might be able to sling guns and yell at elderly Palestinians all day, but when a puppy this cute was involved, it was a bit of a different story. Seeing this in their eyes kept me standing there as the seconds ticked by.But rules are rules. "I'm sorry. You can't," said the girl soldier, avoiding eye contact with the puppy, and then being drawn back into eye contact by the puppy's tractor-beam cuteness.

The puppy shivered. The two teenagers tilted their heads, thenconsulted each other quietly. The boy turned to me.

"You can't technically bring a dog with you. But," he smiled, "If the puppy followed you across the border, then why would anyone care?"

I sighed with relief. "Put the puppy on the ground, take your box, and just call to her," he whispered quickly.

After they looked at my passport, I set the puppy down and he pranced right across the border with me.

This is the kind of thing that makes me happy, sad and angry. I'm happy because I had a human-canine moment with the guards. But the other emotions are because this event demonstrates the kind of inconvenience and arbitrariness that most people here experience constantly. The Israeli military is filled with teenagers because it's mandatory to give two years of service at that time. Few volunteer to be in the army. They have to. And they really are young... sometimes they seem like kids. They have dangerous, stressful jobs, and they don't know what they are doing. They really don't. At the vet, the manager said that if you simply have a letter saying, "this dog needs health care at this clinic," they let you bring the dog across without a problem.

The happy ending to this puppy story is that, after he spent some time playing with Jelly…

 

...we found a home for him. One of Charming's co-workers has a home, yard, and family that is perfect for the little puppy, who we took to calling Newby, and who will soon get an official name from his new family.

Trust in Palestine

I held up my red Trader Joe's bag and mimed putting produce in the bag. The shop owner nodded to affirm that I could use my cloth bag as a shopping basket at the produce store near the city center of Ramallah. After I'd filled my bag with Romaine lettuce, apples, passionfruit, pears, oranges, and a pineapple, I brought it to the back of the shop where the cashier stood. One by one, I set my selections on the counter, reaching deep into the bag to make sure that there was nothing left in there. "Is your bag empty?" the cashier asked with a friendly smile.

"Yes. I think so." I picked up the bag from the bottom and flipped it over, shaking to make sure no fruits were hiding in the corners.

"No. Don't do that," the man said darkly and with a small cringe.

"Shaking the bag? Is it bad luck?" I asked.

"No… it's a mistake. You think I don't trust you."

"Oh, no, I said. "I shook it for me, for me to make sure there was nothing left. For me."

"Okay. If it's for you, it's okay."

Trust. It seems to be a delicate and tender subject here in Palestine. I've had more than one encounter like the above. Proof offered too bluntly, as if in a hurry to show that one can be trusted is embarrassing in this culture. Perhaps in the U.S., we too feel some sense of slight embarrassment if we ask for evidence that the bag is empty, that we aren't dealing with a shoplifter. Yet here there's a stronger sense of affront, perhaps to a thicker sense of honor, if someone provides too fast a proof of their own honestly. It's almost as if the other person is saying "Seriously, stop trying to prove yourself! I don't doubt your honestly. By thinking I doubt you, you are basically calling me a suspicious miser, and that is highly offensive."

In a similar vein, I've often paid for something with a bill that is too large. When I first arrived, if the change was tiny (1/2 shekel, or the equivalent of 13 cents) I might say "keep the change," only to be meet with a vehement "no, no" and to find the change thrust upon me.

The positive side of this cultural element is generously given trust. Yesterday morning I went down to a martial arts studio-gym that recently opened up not far from our apartment. They offer personal training and gym membership. I had emailed earlier about setting up a personal training appointment, but when I arrived, I discovered that the gym didn't take credit cards, which was the only payment method I brought. The manager of the gym, who had met me only once before, said "That's alright. You can pay next time. Shall we start with some cardio?"

As I relate this incident, another one comes to mind. A shop owner is telling me, "you can pay next time." Since I don't remember anything else about the incident, I'm not sure if I went back and paid him. I hope I did.

Although this extensive trust in customers seems to my American entrepreneurial mind like poor business practice, it does warm my heart to a culture that I haven't always felt warmly towards.

Another heart-warmer is walking around town with our new puppy, Jelly. I was afraid people would be fearful or antagonistic towards her, since it's not a culture that is big on dogs. Instead, some simply ignore her, and others are downright friendly. I took her on her first car trip since the one that brought her from the shelter to our apartment, and when we got out, a group of young men began whistling and making kissing sounds in our direction. Instead of my usual sense of annoyance at young men making kissing sounds at me, I thought "they are talking to Jelly," and they were.

They asked what her name was, and then called her name, "Jelly Jelly Jelly." I went and did my errand, and when I passed by them again, they said "Jelly Jelly Jelly!" They seemed totally absorbed in her charms, and not in my perceived charms, and I was grateful. It occurred to me that this dog is going to change my relationship to men in Palestine. She is my protector (she seems to bark at people who I'm afraid of and to be friendly to people I like) and she is also a friendly diplomat - a sort of buffer zone - who will ease gender relations for me.  Yes, it also occurred to me that men here (some, always some, not all) treat dogs the same as they treat women...

But that is another blog post for another time.

Many of you have been worried about me and Prince Charming with the escalating violence here. Thanks for your care, and to those of you who have sent messages our way. We feel safe here, but we are taking precautions to stay away from protests. Charming has been working very hard, and his NGO has been an important voice for peace in the media lately. He's had a vital role in managing the emergency response, and I'm very proud of him. He's helped save lives and will help save many more. If things escalate much further, we may have to evacuate. But for now, we seem to be as safe as we were in Los Angeles.

Finally, for those of you who are excited about my book Minimalism for Grandparents: Decluttering for Health, Happiness, and Connection in the Golden Years,  you can like the Facebook page here. I think that those of grandparent age, as well as youngsters, will get value out of it if they have an interest in living a simplified, meaningful life.

Peacefully yours,

Genevieve

Back from England and Not Too Stroppy

After a five AM alarm, a beautiful pink sunrise/full moon combo sky, a long check-in line, a frisky pat down, a four plus hour flight, a nice chat with a seatmate, and a race through Ben Gurion airport to be among the first of my flight to get through passport control, I'm back in the place I call home on this Tuesday evening. I've unpacked. My charming man is cooking us some pasta and I'm sipping red wine. England was just the sort of remedy I needed after so much time in the almost-desert that is Palestine. The weather was cool to cold to freezing, and always damp. The resulting lushness and green was an exciting change from the barren landscape I've been used to looking at. The Autumn colors were resplendent as well.

The polite, orderly, calm, and English-speaking people were likewise a balm for me. An old man called me "stroppy" in a good-natured, teasing way (I think -- everything seems good-natured and teasing when said in an English accent) when I asked if I could share the lap pool with him at the gym. Calli showed me a wonderful time, treating me to a trip to the Peaks District, a Thai massage, and lots of hugs, dancing, and making up new almost-sounds-like lyrics to pop songs ("you give me sexy elephant, sweet elephant..." can anyone guess what song?) We had a lovely time catching up between packing intervals. I met Calli just after her move to Norwich, and now have witnessed her wrap up life in Norwich and start a new life in a cozy London flat just across the street from the Thames.

On top of everything, Calli (who I should call Super Calli, because she's earned it) dug deep and found time and energy to shoot a wedding in the midst of moving house. Did I mention that we both caught colds at the same time just days after I arrived? In spite of everything, we had a fun time shooting the wedding and the scenery. I mostly got wide-angle shots, and played with Charming's camera. Calli took a simply delicious shot of bride and groom Debbie and John that she posted on her photography facebook page. They are a special and very friendly couple who invited guests to an innocent "engagement party" that turned out to be a wedding. Surprise! Here's Calli's shot:

The day before the wedding, we went out into the cold, amped up on Vitamin C, Zinc, and possibly some British medication called "Day Nurse" and drove around enjoying the scenery in the Sheffield area. I was entranced by a massive estate that I don't remember the name of. What's important is that it played Pemberley Hall in the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice.

Thanks for the memories, Super Calli. You did it!

Packing Solutions for England Trip

I get on a plane bound for England today, (yesterday if you are reading this on Tuesday) and I've solved my packing dilemmas of last week.The big concession I made was deciding not to bring my laptop. I'll have to do a lot of writing longhand in a small notebook. It's been a while since I've worked that way, so it should be interesting to see if I can get done what I need to get done: reading and making notes on my book manuscript, and drafting part of screenplay number four.  I love to have my laptop with me for quick and easy writing and web surfing. I'm very comfortable and at home on it and it lets me get work done fast. But for this trip, there just isn't room. When it's time to publish the blog, I'll borrow Calli's computer.I took some photos of the packing process. As you can see below, the camera will take up a lot of weight and space in the bag.  I'm just getting started here...

That's more like it. You can see my face paints up in the left hand corner. I'll put those in the green toiletries bag, if they fit. Everything on the green towel is what I will wear on the plane, so it doesn't have to go in the bag. Almost as big as my laptop is the printed manuscript, which you can see in the middle of the growing pile:

You can see that I am not bringing a hand bag. That little gold wristlet will have to do. I might decide to throw in a lightweight fabric roll-up shopping bag if there's space at the end. Also, a major concession is that I'm bringing almost no cold-weather clothes. I don't have them anyway, and Calli and her friends are glad to lend me what I need, for example, Wellies for tromping around muddy wetlands. I'll bring my trusty knitted cap, and a light jacket that I'll wear on the plane.  As far as shoes, I'm bringing just one pair in addition to the sneakers I wear on the plane. I hope my old grey leather boots will be dressy enough for a fancy restaurant or club. It's time for everything to go in the bag:

Okay, I managed to zip it up. It weighs in on my American scale at 19 pounds, which is 8.6 kilograms, well under the limit of 20 kilograms for easyJet luggage. Now it's time to measure it...

It comes in at or under the maximum allowed dimensions. Except for one sort of bulgy part, which is just over, but I figure if they pull out their tape measure I can just repack it so there's no bulgy part. Later, I realized I forgot my cell phone charger, the battery for the camera,  ear buds for the plane, and a converter to plug in the camera battery charger and my phone charger in England.  This is one reason why it's good to pack well in advance.Those are small items and will be easy to throw in... momentarily  as soon as I find them. I'm hoping that I can use my unlocked smart phone to get on a free WiFi connection in England so I can chat with Prince Charming on my phone using a Skype app and/or WhatsApp but my phone today is showing an error message when I try to get online. We'll see if Charming can take a look at it. I've got blogging and packing to finish.I'm proud to be traveling so lightly on this trip.Calli and England, here I come!

Things We Yell From Cars

I was reading Half the Sky, the 2009 book about the state of women in the world earlier this year. When I read the part about maternal mortality, and exactly how preventable these deaths are and how many happen, I put the book down, squeezed me eyes shut, and said a silent prayer that some day, one day, I could do something to help the lonely women ostracized by their communities, curled up in their shacks, soaking in their own urine and feces and waiting - perhaps praying - to die. Well, that day has come. I can do something small, which is to urge you to buy and watch the Half the Sky documentary  DVD when it is released by Amazon on October 20th.  Two respected journalists and authors - Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn - have selected oppression of women worldwide as the single most important issue of the 21st century. What's exciting is that the book and the documentary are so well done  in terms of production quality and research that there's a lot of positive attention on this issue and I think we as a world can make amazing progress within our lifetimes.

Curious about some statistics?

Here you go:

• 99 percent of all maternal deaths occur in the developing world.
• The U.S. ratio of maternal deaths is higher than 40 other countries, despite spending more per capita on maternal care than any other country.
• More than 1 million children a year are left motherless due to maternal mortality.
• 135 million girls living today have undergone female genital mutilation, greatly increasing their risk of maternal mortality.

Source: http://www.halftheskymovement.org/page/-/fastfacts.pdf

So you see that this isn't just an issue "abroad," but at home in the U.S. too. Maternal mortality is just one cause of many highlighted in the book - there are other issues we can help with, mostly by talking about them and being aware of them, although giving money helps to0 , as does writing letters.

When I was a little girl, and I'd complain about how "unfair" something was, my dad would smile and say "You know what? Life isn't fair. If it was, you'd probably be sitting on the ground in Africa with no legs because an old landmine blew them off."

In addition to being a man who can create an unsettling  image with just a few words and a knowing smile, Dad was right. Life isn't fair.  He'd seen enough as a doctor to know that. But I didn't really understand what he meant by what he said. How could I? I had never seen anyone who was very poor, injured, or oppressed.

Here, I've witnessed it for myself.  I've seen children joyfully gathered around what gives them life - yellow dirty plastic jugs of clean-ish drinking water. I've see women who haven't had the opportunity, freedom, education, or diversity of experience to know they don't have to put up with polygamy or body shrouding. Perhaps saddest of all, I've seen men who don't have the blessing of free, spirited, educated, irrepressible women in their lives. Every day that I walk in Palestine, I see them, men on whose faces there's a  story written about their hunger - their hunger for the other half of the sky. Of course there are many enlightened, egalitarian men here in the Middle East, and I'm thankful for them. They will teach their sons and daughters and continue the progress that is happening here.

I'm writing this blog because there's so much beyond where our eyes can touch, and I want to help others - and myself - see these far away things and wake up. I write about lust -  wanderlust, lust for life, lust for a better world. Lust is not a bad or sinful thing, and there's no evil in the human heart - just reactions that either hurt or help people. All that's necessary to live a good life is to wake up (also known as learn, be present, be enlightened, be aware, be here) in this present moment and to form each action so that, whenever possible, we are helping ourselves and others- not hurting either party. In fact, people should party more.  More parties, and less explosions,  is my prescription for the Middle East and for humankind.

I was trying to party through the pain here this weekend. Charming and I were taking a trip to Tel Aviv to celebrate our six month wedding anniversary (I know, I can't believe it's been six months either). We were stuck in traffic  on our way to an infamous checkpoint. I was driving, and decided, perhaps unwisely, that to express my frustration I was going to yell. I announced to my Prince that I was going to yell in the style of men who yell barely intelligible things to women from the safety and comfort of their cars. "Uooo Lips!" I yelled to one man in a car as he cut me off. "Uck my Deeee!" I yelled to another. Charming was rather entertained, and so was I. I continued, with an "OO  you so beautiful!" to a man walking on the side of the road. I felt I had pushed it a little far. Yelling at cars was one thing, but yelling at some poor car-less soul breathing the traffic fumes? It was a little much. I stopped.

We arrived at the bottleneck that is Qalandia checkpoint.  Very quickly, we realized the lane I was in was behind a massive bus. It would take forever for the soldiers to check every single passport in the slow and ponderous way they go about that task. So I tried to switch to the next lane over. I made eye contact with a car with two men in it. They motioned to the spot in front of them with a smile that seemed to say "Go head." I fluttered my eyelashes in thanks. As soon as there was a gap in front of them, they gunned it and took up the space, almost hitting my car. Undeterred, I tried the car behind them, making eye contact with the female driver of a white car packed full of veiled women. They gestured angrily, making it clear that I was not going to get into their lane. Well, at least they weren't effing with me like the last car.

I tried a few more times, until the cars behind me were getting angry at the space growing in front of me. I zoomed ahead, only to wait and wait while the soldiers made everyone on the bus ahead of us get off and walk through the checkpoint. Soon the white car full of women passed us. In my  frustration,  I stuck my hand, palm up, out of the window and yelled, "You are so beautiful!"

I couldn't help but smile as realized how silly I was acting - and how silly the moment was. I saw their faces go from bored and frustrated, to confused, to broadly smiling - even the grandmother in the back gave me the most twinkly and crinkly of grins.

Suddenly, they were all so very beautiful. They waved, and all of us were laughing together.

The pain and frustration of oppressed women - whether it's traffic that's oppressing them or the patriarchy - can shift. It can turn into something positive.

I'm really lucky to be married to someone who helps the less fortunate of the world in a very active, full-time way. However, he can only do that through the support of people who live comfortably far away and donate a little money to organizations like his.  So there's no hierarchy of who is helping the world more - someone on the ground in Gaza, giving a tank of clean water to people trapped there, or someone who donates a few bucks a month to a high quality charity that helps out. If everyone on Earth would take one, small, tiny action, then we could solve all the problems described in Half the Sky.

What action do you want to take right now?

Probably you want to turn on a mindless TV show and eat chocolate, and try to forget about the poor women and children of the world. Me too. That's normal and fine, actually. Just donate your ten bucksbefore the chocolate fest, and you can feel good (extra special good) about the world while you watchModern Family.

One last note - if you liked this post and think it could inspire anyone, you can take the action of reposting it to your blog or facebook or twitter.

Thank you  darling friend!

YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL.

My Writing Rules

I'm deep in the thickets of drafting my first bookMinimalism for Grandparents: Decluttering for Health, Happiness, and Connection During the Golden Years, and some of you may be wondering just how I manage to write with such prolificacy while also traveling the world. At least my writer friend Jared was. So for Jared and anyone else who may be wondering, the answer (besides that I'm lucky enough to be able to design my life this way) is that I'm easily bored and possibly just a touch ADD. Therefore, having multiple projects going at once is a must for me. I don't seem to be capable of working on one project until it's done and then picking up another one. In the same vein, I'm currently reading (hang on, let me count them) seven books. Probably more, but I stopped counting at seven since I thought it was a suitably impressive number. That's useful for me since whatever I'm reading tends to come out in pure form when I converse. If I was just reading one book, it could get tiring to hear about revolutionary Iran in the 80's over and over. With my brain in seven books, however, I can talk about how Nabokov appears to have been read by students at Tehran university who were  not exactly fifty shades of Zionism which came during and after Audrey Hepburn's early film career.  I often internally  mourn that my brain is fond of boxes. However, I think this reading of unrelated subject matter fights my waffle-headed tendencies and helps me make creative new connections.

---

Back to my writing, which is as connected to my reading as Levi's are to blue thread.  I've learned through the years that I need some sort of schedule for myself. Writing is solitary and there's no boss looking over my shoulder, making sure I've done pages for the day. I've experimented with many different  tactics:

• Writing in the morning
• Writing at night
• Writing in the afternoon
• Writing every day
• Wearing  a special hat to write
• Writing only when inspired late at night on caffeine
• Writing for eight hours a day on weekdays
• Writing on my lunch break at an office job
• Asking friends to ask me about my writing regularly
• Promising  people completed scripts upon certain deadlines
• Writing carefully
• Writing heedlessly
•  Setting yearly writing goals
• Setting monthly writing goals
• Scheduling out each day down to the minute
• Setting a timer and writing until it goes off

Whew. I've learned a few things in general about how to make myself write. For me, the earlier in the day that I write, the more likely I am to a) write that day and b) write more that day. Writing at the beginning of the day seems to set a tone of creative production for the whole day and to keep my muse happy and coming back for more.

The muse shows up unannounced and usually at the most inconvenient times. The best writing comes from the muse: what you can also think of as the holy spirit, or the creative subconscious. The ability to write when the muse shows up takes the same kind of discipline that waking up early - the moment your alarm goes off-- takes. It's hard and I rarely do it. But I'm glad when I do. The best feeling when writing, and when the best writing comes, is when the creative subconscious gets though in kind of a sly way. I'm relaxed, well fed, and not worried about the well-being of any of my loved ones. There's quiet around me - no music or conversation or fear of interruption. I'm not trying too hard; it's flow. Time passes without my awareness of how much has gone by.

However, most times, I'm trying hard. Because in an almost cruel reality, the muse is somehow summoned and nourished by my trying hard -- by thinking a lot about the writing and the topics. I can relate it to something I heard in an interview with actor James Franco. He prepares and prepares very hard, then when the cameras roll, he just relaxes and lets whatever comes out come out.

What has worked for me to get my writing done every day while still leaving time to experience where I am, is daily goals. Also, I have more time to write now than I did in LA. I have fewer friends here to hang out with, and I don't have another job to take any of my creative energy (as much as I liked faerie princess-ing).

After trying to schedule my days, I found out that one of my big values is freedom. I won't stick to a schedule because it can feel like a tyrant boss.

So I have simple two rules for myself:

1. Write every day.
2. Write for at least an hour, five days a week. Usually I end up writing for more than one hour, but it's kind of like telling yourself before a morning jog that you are just going to run for five minutes. Once you get out there, feel the wind in your nose and see the birds fluttering by, you'll be enjoying it and you'll probably run for the whole thirty minutes.

On top of my writing rules, at the beginning of the year I had a couple of big writing goals. One was to write six first drafts (feature-length scripts) this year. Another was to write and publish my first book. I have other smaller projects too, but those are in addition to my major goals.

So that I keep my projects straight and work on each project enough to complete my goals on time, I created one goal for each remaining work day of 2012. I did this a couple months ago, and this system is working for me so far. It allows me to focus on one project a day, to trust that they will all get done because I can see it on the schedule, and to not get bored because I can see ahead that I will get to work on a different project soon.

For example, here is what my first ten days looked like:

Day 1 Blogsville -- book project ask for help and weekend trip

Day 2 Character work on script #3.

Day 3 Plot work on script #3.

Day 4 Character work on script #3

Day 5 Research details for the script.

Day 6 Blogsville

Day 7 Outline #3 in Final Draft

Day 8 New script idea generating

Day 9 Outline #3 in Final Draft

Day 10 Go to script: Write 10 pages today on script #3.

It goes on until the end of the year...

I don't add a date to when I should be doing each goal because sometimes I move them around or work on a weekend or maybe I took a mental health day or a sick day. (I have a great boss who lets me take off whenever I want.) Life is bigger than writing. And that's the way I like it.

If you are trying to write (or paint, or whatever) and you are also working a full-time job or have some other major drain on your time, my only advice is to write first thing in the morning. I didn't have the willpower to do it regularly when I had a full-time job, but if I had one now, I'd find a way to make it work. I'd reward myself with ice cream of something, anything, but I would make it work.

If you are trying to write while traveling, the advice is the same. Bring a small laptop computer or a notebook, and do it early. You never know what the day will bring, and you have most control over you time and willpower in the morning.

I think each writer (or any person who wants to create something without an office and a boss) must experiment and figure out what works for him or her. Let me know if this helped you.

If you have felt for a long time that you want to write, that you have something to say, you are weakening the tender fabric of your soul with each day that you do not write.

Please leave any helpful tips that have worked for you in the area of self-motivated creative work in the comments below. I trust you guys to give me some good tips that will help me write more and better, and that will help anyone who reads this post.

Istanbul

Where There is No Such Thing as Typical.

Last Thursday I sat in a Krispy Kreme restaurant in a mall on Istiklal Caddesi, in Istanbul, eating a sugary snack. I was alone at my table with my notebook, preparing to start an afternoon of shopping - most of it of the window variety. Across from me a young woman sat staring at her phone, fully covered in smooth, inky black fabric. Nothing was visible except her eyes, which were heavily lined in black. After a few moments, a young man sat in front of her. He wore what seems to be the uniform for young, fashionable men in Middle Eastern cities: acid washed jeans, a muscle tee with some sort of graphic art print, a huge, shining watch, and more hair gel then, well, hair.  He leaned forward in conversation with the young woman in black, gesturing toward the mall around us.  They were just a typical Istanbul couple, in a city where there is no such thing as typical.

That's what I loved about Istanbul.  There's no such thing as typical there. For every woman wearing a headscarf there was one in a miniskirt. It is a diverse, stunning city that that feels  as free and energetic and beautiful as Paris or New York.

The Grand Bazaar was immense, a place to enjoy getting lost in. I wasn't sure if I should look forward to going, as Cairo's huge, famous  market was disappointingly full of items ordered from a factory in China. One vendor's goods looked much the same as the last. Everything needed dusting.

But Istanbul's famous market was full of unique and colorful designs: jewelry, lamps, scarves, pottery, and shoes that I wanted to stare at all day. Curved knives that Charming wanted to stare at all day. But with over 3,000 shops in the Grand Bazaar, there wasn't time to linger at just one.

Foodwise, it seemed to me that the less we paid and for a meal, the better it was. The more we paid and the longer we waited, the worse it was. Street food rules in Istanbul.

Charming had been to Istanbul before, so it was fun for us to revisit some of his favorite places to eat and people watch. We easily and quickly got used to the culture of sitting in a street café, sipping beer and watching the crowds roll, prance, crawl, meander, and sell their way by us.

We walked and walked. I loved walking Istiklal Caddesi, the famous pedestrian street that was crowded day and night.

We saw the majestic Hagia Sophia which today is a museum. It's been both a church and a mosque in it's time, and there were signs of both religions in the interior, which I thought was cool.

Then we walked down the block, waited for prayers to be over, and got in line to see the Blue Mosque, known to be one of the largest and most beautiful mosques in the world. We had to take our shoes off and put them in a bag that we carried with us. Also, scarves were lent to those women who didn't bring one.  But it's funny, you can see that many women whipped them off the moment they got inside:

 

The interior was breathtaking, with columns like redwood trees. There was a large open carpeted area in the front for Muslim men and children to pray. It was quite open, since there were only a few who had stayed for the prayers and short sermon in English that was followed by the one in Turkish.  A Muslim man entered to pray followed by several veiled-in-black females. The two monitors (females!) at the front apologized, said the women couldn't be here, and guided the women to  a small area in the back, behind the tourists with their smelly shoes in hand, to pray away from the soaring central area. The children, however, joyfully ran and cavorted  in the large open prayer space skipping around the men who prayed in reverent stillness. I thought it would be so strange to go from being a little girl, and being able to run around your dad who is praying in the big main area, to having to pray in a tiny, latticed-off space way in the back.The difference between Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque helped me understand more about Turkey and the way it straddles Eastern and Western culture. As a country, it seems to be a great example of both secular appreciation of what religion has to offer, as seen in the museumification of the Hagia Sophia, and devout religious expression that allows a few tourists to squeeze in and get a glimpse of it, as in the Blue Mosque.Towards the end of our days in Istanbul, we took a two hour ferry cruise on the Bosphorus.

Below was the typical view, not just from the ferry boat, but of the general skyline of Istanbul. This mosque is probably famous, but were are so many like it, and more of surpassing beauty, that I didn't take particular note of what this one was called.

Overall thoughts on Istanbul?  I loved it and hope to return.

Santorini, Greece

Where Nothing Bothers You

You are in for a treat. Charming took eight hundred and eighty photos in Greece with his digital SLR which he hasn't been able to use on this trip up until this point. As I write this he is editing a few to fit here on the blog.There isn't much to say about Santorini except that it was everything it should be. Stunningly beautiful, refreshing, and relaxing. We ate and slept a lot. We swam in the crystal clear azure waters. I think the word "azure" was invented to describe the waters around Santorini. We drank lots of local white wine. I took one of the best naps of my life. I could write a lot about that, but you'd get too jealous and stop reading this blog.

We went for a long catamaran ride around the island.

Nothing bothers you on Santorini. We didn't worry that some claim Santorini is the fabled Atlantis that sank into the sea. We didn't worry that it's the "most active volcanic center in the South Aegean Volcanic Arc."

Santorini was so exquisite that it inspired me to set my next screenplay there. I'm working on a story called Santorini Mermaid right now. I feel like I've come full circle, because my first script was calledMermaids in Venice.  Five years and nine scripts later, I'm writing Santorini Mermaid. Maybe this script will make Hollywood realize THE WORLD NEEDS ANOTHER MERMAID MOVIE! Splash was too long ago. (Are you reading, studio executive?  Your hair looks nice today.)

It's time for some photo decadence. Just don't get too jealous and stop reading this blog.

Treats: Top 6 Out of 880

Magic in Greece

We aren't finished with Greece, but I wanted to do a short entry about Athens. I will try to add to it after we've left Santorini, where we landed yesterday.

Athens was a relief compared to Cairo. You can drink the water. It was beautiful when we arrived on Saturday; if the weather had been artificially created by a perfect weather machine, it could not have been more ideal. Spotless blue sky. Warm air, with a cool breeze coming along every two minutes. The light humidity in the air was welcome after so much time in the desert-dry of Palestine.

Our taxi driver from the Athens airport to our hotel near the Acropolis was named Giorji. He was so cool he even did a magic trick for us. After de-planing, we'd withdrawn cash from the ATM. 200 Euros. The problem was, the machine gave us four 50 Euro bills. When we arrived, we wanted to give the taxi driver a tip, although our grand total on the meter was almost exactly 50 Euros. Charming handed over a 50, and we began whispering about the need for a tip and to check our bags for spare change. Well, sometime between handing the fifty Euro bill to Giorji and his hand receiving it, it turned into a ten! Amazing! He held it out for us, embarassed-looking. "This is a ten," he said, his expression that of an indulgent parent who has caught his child making a mistake on their homework.

Well, we knew we hadn't given him a ten. In fact, our whole problem of the moment was that we didn't have any small bills. We politely thanked him for his display of magic and left the car.

Just kidding. Shaken and distressed at his attempt to rip us off so convincingly, we got out of the car, cursing him under our breath and eager to put some distance between him and us. When we refused to give him more money, he said "are you sure?" and accepted our "ten," possibly cursing us under his breath. Later, we found out it should have been a flat rate of 35 Euros from the airport. He wasn't even supposed to use his meter.

I know you guys like to hear about the rather annoying things that happen to us when we travel, so I share that little moment.

That little moment, however, was overshadowed by a jubilant trip to the Acropolis. Visiting the Parthenon was another life dream for me. The density of life dreams being fulfilled on this trip is dizzying.

There were a ton of people at the Acropolis. The stream of people was like water constantly running over rocks in a river. But there were also lots of dogs. Happy, well-fed dogs. The Acropolis may be dog heaven; the marble keeps cool, even in the summer heat, creating sunny yet cool places for old dogs to sleep. The dogs were all sleeping, and they seemed happy to be part of the human pack. I thought of my family's dog Lando who just passed away as I was petting this guy (or girl, I didn't check):

The ladies of Athens are beautiful and vivacious. The extra bounce in their step may come from living in a place named after a goddess. It seems good for the men too. The atmosphere sure felt different to me than the West Bank, where it's so weird to be a woman. All the hang-ups people have there about seeing hair, cleavage... to cover, not to cover. All that angst was absent in Athens. 

The photo quality on this trip so far as been less than what you are used to because Charming forgot a vital piece of his camera. After an Epic search, he finally found a place that sold the battery grip he needed right before we bounced out of Athens to Santorini. So you can look forward to some art-quality photos from his camera very soon. In the meantime... here's a sneak preview of Santorini from my pocket camera. See you later, I'm off to explore the island!

Pack With Style

Your Basic Wardrobe

This is a basic wardrobe list whether you are packing to travel the world, or staying where you are and simply updating your classic minimalist closet. .I created this list for people with a stylish bent, not for those who don't care how they look. It is aimed toward women, but men may get helpful hints out of it and can adjust it for their needs.It won't work in extremely cold weather, but it's great for everything else.

You may also enjoy my Pinterest board, What to Pack to Travel the World.

Clothes

• Little Black Skirt
• Little Black Tank

Together, they create an LBD look

• Trench Coat - great for wearing with the above LBD look. The classic trench coat is not meant to handle rain, but if you can get one that doubles as a rain coat, all the better.
• Cream V-neck Tee
• Classic Button up shirt - white is the standard color, but you can also pick any solid neutral color that flatters you: think grey, tan, gold, cream, etc.  Pick a color that looks nice with your trench coat, as the trench and the collared button-up are a classic combo.
• Medium or Dark rinse jeans that make you look and feel great. Keep embellishments and trendy details to minimum.
• Jacket - Probably in black. find one that emphasizes your waist and makes you feel amazing. Style can be lapel, tuxedo, double-breasted, mandarin collar, whatever style suits you. I have a light black jacket in thick cotton. I can roll up the sleeve a little for a warmer day.
• "Business in the front, Party every where else" top - this is a top that can look modest in the front for wearing with a jacket in conservative parts of the world. It doubles as a cute flattering top for going out without the jacket. Maybe a silky backless halter top, a tee with cut outs, or an embellished tank?
• Black cotton yoga pants - for lounging and sleeping in - and doing yoga after a long day of tourism.
• Soft tee for sleeping. PJ preferences vary widely, but bring something super soft and comfy that is reserved for bedtime.
•  Soft, long sleeved, high neckline shirt. For wearing in the cold or conservative religious areas.

I recommend one  of the following, depending on your destination:

• Long, comfy skirt that goes with everything. - better in conservative places.
• Day dress - a super comfy mini dress, probably in cotton, that is easy to throw on for shopping, hitting the beach, or touring on a hot day. Can be worn with heels and jewelry for a night out. Ideally, it goes with your jacket and your trench coat. This is better for destinations where it is acceptable for women to show their legs.

If you are a runner or like to exercise, add:

• Long pants for running (shorts are not frequently seen in many parts of the world)
• Sports bra
• Running shoes
• Quick drying tank or tee.

Accessories

• Scarf - in almost any color or pattern. It should look good next to your face. Since most of your clothes are neutral tones, almost any kind of scarf should go. I like a pretty big scarf for doubling as a swimsuit cover up.
• Swim suits - two. Interchangeable bikinis are my favorite.
• Jewelry - I like to bring inexpensive, colorful statement jewelry, plus a couple of special delicate things that add a little shimmer.
• Cap - keep your heat in your head on those cold nights. Consider a sunhat for desert and beach locations.
• Big sunglasses - big, dark sunglasses are a great for so many reasons. They protect your eyes, and the skin on your face from wrinkles and sun damage. They provide privacy from staring eyes in parts of the world where ladies that look like you are a rare sight.
• Optional for rainy locations: Umbrella or rain poncho.

Foundation Wear

• 1 black bra
• 1 skin-toned bra
• As many pairs of clean socks as you want. (This is a personal pet peeve of me and Prince Charming's we both like to have clean, dry socks to change into anytime. If your feet are happy, the rest of you is happy.)
• 1 black thong
• 1 skin toned thong
• 1 black underwear
• 1 skin-toned underwear

Get your underwear in in quick-drying material (hanky panky is the is the best brand - quick drying, long-lasting, and very comfortable). I recommend thongs because they dry even faster (overnight) and you can do a quick sink wash and have clean, dry knickers in the morning.

Shoes

Ah, shoes. I love pretty shoes, but pretty and good for travel rarely go together. So it's always a source of fun to meet the challenge of finding a shoe that can do so many things.If you are a runner, you must bring running shoes. Running shoes usually take up the most space in my bag. My running shoes are good for hiking, too.For non-runners, or people whose main exercise will be walking around as  a tourist (which is very good exercise), I recommend:

1. One pair of calf high or knee high boots (for walking in cool weather). You should be able to wear them  with a skirt, dress, or jeans. No heel for comfort (unless you are one of those rare people who can do everything in heels - in which case, go ahead!)

2. One pair of beach-appropriate sandals - I have a pair of gold flip flops that I feel comfortable walking around a city in, and also getting wet and sandy on the beach. A better option would probably be something that stays closer to my foot (to keep rocks and dirt further from my feet). Something like a gladiator sandal or Birkenstocks or Tivvas. However, I haven't been able to find anything that has met my aesthetic sensibilities as well as my gold flip flops.

3. One pair of going out shoes. You'll be able to go out at night to casual venues in any of your shoes (except your running shoes) but optionally, pack a special pair with a heel. Anything you want.

Options:

• Classic black heels
• Eye-catching Red heels
• Strappy gold heels
• Turqoise Peep-toes with a kitten-heel
• Espadrilles (a super summery option)

4. One pair of cute walking shoes. I saved the most challenging for last. My style-friendly pick would be a sturdy ballet flat.  Make sure there is a good buffer between your soles and the hard, rocky street.

Other  options:

•  a classic sneaker, from Converse or Puma, for example.
•  A flat, lace up ankle boot.
• Comfy leather sandals.
• Peep-toe flats (especially in a hot climate).

For versatility, this shoe should look good with a skirt, dress, and jeans. Your choice will depend on your body type and personal style.

I hope this helps you have fun with fashion while having a light bag.

Cairo and Giza: Crying Over Pyramids

Egypt is a land that dominated my imagination as a homeschooled youngster. We studied ancient Egypt a lot. We danced with Steve Martin to King Tut and one year I dressed up as a pyramid for Holloween. Really. I have a great family. I read young adult fiction about a slave girl  who dressed in fine linen and gold and searched for freedom on the Nile. I think she found love with a tomb thief who stole her heart. Earlier, I colored in ancient Egypt coloring books and pored over Dorling Kindersley full-color photographs of artifacts.

So I  intentionally dampened down my expectations on Saturday, preparing myself to be disappointed at the real thing. The flights from Tel-Aviv to Amman and from Amman to Cairo were a humbuggery of the normal indignitities and inconveniences with some beautiful desert views thrown in:

 

I expected a mundane and gritty end to our travel day upon arrival in Cairo… and tried to stay level-headed.

Pyramids

But as the plane descended at sunset into the Cairo airport, Charming nudged me. "The pyramids are out there somewhere." I pulled myself out of whatever daydream I was in, and searched out the window. It was all gold and dust. I looked and looked, blocking out the sun with the shade to get a better view of the ground.

Suddenly, there they were.

One big, and two small pyramids on the outskirts of the thick city.

I gasped. They are real. The sight of the pyramids from the air set up an emotional chain reaction that took me back to childhood and awakened a deep sense of awe and gratitude.  Out of this happy well of emotion and exhaustion from the long day of travel, I began to sob. I turned to Prince Charming. "Why do I get to be here? I'm the luckiest. My whole life, I've dreamed of seeing the pyramids. I thought one day I would. I imagined it, but I never really, really, thought I would get to see the pyramids." I cried happy tears again, and nothing bothered me for the rest of the day. Almost.

We Raised Eyebrows

Until a little bump in the road. It wasn't exactly a rip off, but when we arrived at the Cairo airport, we first had to purchase visas for 15 USD each from the Bank of Cairo booth that comes before passport control. The Bank of Cairo there gave us an old fifty dollar bill as change. We raised our eyebrows as high as we could. We hadn't seen an old-style bill in the US like that in a long time. But the bank workers assured us the money was good. It would be accepted. It was good. It was good. They were a little too insistent.

Upon arrival at our hotel, we tried to pay for the taxi the hotel had sent to pick us up  at the airport. They took USD, so Charming gave them the fifty dollar bill.  They took it to the Bank of Cairo booth in the hotel which looked just like the booth at the airport. Ten minutes later, they found us in the lobby, returning the fifty dollar bill to us. They wouldn't take the bill. It was too old. I couldn't believe it. The bank of Cairo had stopped accepting the old bills. "It will work in your country, but it won't work in this country." So the dudes at the airport bank were unloading old currency on us that we couldn't use until we are back in the U.S.  I've never heard of a bank giving out currency that it won't accept back the same day. I'm guessing this is an example of what happens in a country with weak or corrupt infrastructure.

A Welcoming Culture

A man named Peter, the store guard at Vodafone in Cairo says "You are most welcome. You are German?" "American," I tell him. "Ah, good. USA. Very Good!" He gives a wide, warm smile. Of all the palces we've visited in the Middle East, Cairo is where I've felt the most welcomed by residents who seems almost star-struck. Maybe that term is too strong.

Struck with profit-potential may be more accurate. We find that often, when money changes hands, a little bit extra is kept by the vendor. Especially taxi drivers. The consistency of this short-changing is striking. After only three days here we've learned to count change carefully and inspect restaurant bills line by line. Here's a receipt from a recent meal out with some of Charming's co-attendees at his work conference here:

 

What's a cover charge? Is that not the same as a entrance tax?  In the U.S., those fees are usually charged upon entrance to a club, not at the end of the night. But this was a restaurant, not a club. Or, was it? What's the difference? The 12% service charge (tip) is fine, but the 10% sales tax seems kind of steep. Don't worry, the total is in Egyptian Pounds, not in USD.

The restaurant, Sequoia, was on the Nile, which glimmered and added magic to the otherwise hot and uncomfortable atmosphere.

A boat pulled up to the restaurant at the end of the evening and began shooting off large fireworks very close to us. We didn't know whether to ooh and ahh, or to be afraid and run for cover. A nearby building had been burned and cars set on fire not that long ago.

Street Life

As I walk down the street, the smog is so thick I can taste the air -- it has a grainy texture as it goes in my mouth and down my throat. A particle went into my eye yesterday,  partially blinding me for a few steps. It felt like ash from a charcoal grill.

Sidewalks are rare, often broken up with potholes and crowded with parked cars, scooters, and abandoned bags of soggy food. Most of the roads are four lanes, but people drive for miles right on top of the painted divider lines; traffic is therefore serpentine.  The lack of sidewalks forces people to walk in the street, adding more chaos to the congestion. Yesterday I saw two cars parked in the middle of a the road for repairs, their hoods open like dead birds' beaks.  I walk in a long skirt and long sleeves, despite the heat. I wear my thickest, ugliest shoes.

Cats so malnourished they never lose their kittenish looks roam the streets. The opposite has happened to the street children. Life begging all day on the hot street has made them  lose their kittenish playfulness too soon. Nothing curious or sparkling appeared in the eyes of the little girl asking me to buy her new clothes on Sunday. Instead, I saw the same dull, hardened look I usually see in the grown men trying to hustle us into overpriced taxis. (Security advisors say not to give anything to children here, as they are sometimes part of a long con. It's hard to imagine what the con could be, and heartbreaking to see these kids.) Thinking of that girl, I'm reminded of Egypt's shameful superlative, that of all the countries in the Middle East, it has the lowest literacy rate for women.

On the few streets where there are continuous sidewalks, every few meters, cold, dirty water splashes down on me from the window air conditioner units stacked up for stories above on the dingy high rise apartment buildings. One of them on a nearby building fell down. What caught my eye was the man they sent up to investigate. We took photos from our hotel on the eighth floor:

He's sitting in a sling. After I took this photo, he started chatting on his cell phone. I could barely look at him, but I couldn't stop staring.

Sights Yet to See

Due to the dubious nature of paying for anything and the exhausting nature of being a female walking alone (Charming is in a conference all day) on the street, I haven't yet seen the pyramids up close. They are far away from the city center.  I haven't seen much of anything. When I do, if I have any good photos or sights to report, I'll be sure to update the "bright spots" section of this post below.

I have been doing some guidebook reading, and following suggestions not to make eye contact when walking on the street.  Although it's not natural to me, since to me eye contact is a way to offer respect and friendliness, I've tried it here in Cairo, and it's been a helpful way to avoid harassment. Just as I was thinking that very thought yesterday, two men walked by me. One said looked at me and said "So cute." The other said "Milf." It's possible the second man was talking on his cell phones, and "Milf" is a word in Arabic. Very likely.

Bright Spots

As is often the case in the Middle East, the hospitality and kindness of the locals shine. Most people here in the city speak English and some French, which means I get called "Madame," and "Madmoiselle," which I find charming.  The housekeeper who cleaned our hotel room yesterday chatted and laughed with me warmly and then said "All finished, Madame!" And left without pausing for a tip. In fact, all the service at our hotel, Safir, has been wonderful. This is a great hotel, and although it's expensive, the prices seem fair and no one has tried to rip us off . We've spent some nice times hunkered down in the cool hotel. There's a grand lobby that has beautiful flower arrangements and a piano lounge. There are also a lot of good shark shows on the TV.

I'd like to feel compassion and gratitude towards Egypt because their government situation is so delicate right now and their revolution was mostly peaceful. I'm glad that there isn't open battle taking place on the streets of Cairo. However, I can't deny that deep inside, I feel sad for this culture that peaked so long ago.  I hope that democracy and the protection of human rights and civil liberties will be secured and will lead to Cairo's renewal.

*UPDATE*

Cairo got a lot better after a lovely evening of seeing the Pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx with a light show dramatizing some of the history of those structures. In real life, they are JUST AS AMAZING AND HUGE AS THEY SEEM TO BE IN PICTURES.

I also got to fulfill yet another life dream of riding a camel. Woot!

 

More cool stuff? Yes, it happened. We got to see Tahrir square, where the revolution got started. Some people were still Occupying.

Finally, a Felucca ride on the Nile so magical it was fit for a Disney movie.

 

Tel Aviv with Exclamation Points!!!

Happy Dance!!!

 Tel Aviv!!! After a run on the beach this weekend, I returned to the hotel and did a happy dance that Prince Charming was mocking/enjoying all day. I can't believe we waited this long, but the stars finally aligned, and we went to Tel Aviv twice in one week. This weekend to come we will leave for our long-awaited, full-length honeymoon(we previously had a "mini-moon.") But that didn't stop us from acting like this Tel Aviv trip  was also our honeymoon. Charming booked our honeymoon, and got such great travel deals that with the leftovers we were able to splurge this weekend on a hotel in Tel Aviv that was less than one block from the beach, and even had a little view of the water:

Fack You in the Mooth

Sweet, charming children live near our apartment in Ramallah. They are polite, genteel, peaceful boys between the ages of 8 and 12 who are apparently learning to write certain words in English. Someone recently gave them all plastic machine guns, and now they run around the rocks and rubble nearby play-acting battle. Also, they (we theorize) recently wrote a sweet message on our car: "Fack you in the Mooth." Charming washed it off our front windshield on Wednesday morning and we set out for a day trip to Tel Aviv where he had some business to attend to. It was only after arriving in Tel Aviv a couple hours later that we saw the message our back windshield had been sending to all the traffic behind us: "Fack You." Oops.  Turning lemons into lemonade, me made the phrase both a term of endearment and a useful expression of wonder, as in "Well, fack me in the mooth!" We used it often in Tel Aviv and promised ourselves we'd return for a three-day weekend which we have now just completed. Fack yeah!

Hummus Loving Babes

Tel Aviv feels like the San Francisco of Israel. The most refreshing part for me was seeing the street fashion and sculpture. It was food to my poor, art-starved eyes.The ladies of Ramallah, truth be told, do put some thought into fashion. They match the shoe to the handbag and aren't afraid of color. They often wear sparkling head scarves. But it's hard to enjoy fashion if the culture dictates you not show your Allah-given shape:

Tel Aviv culture, by contrast, is not afraid of shape. I think my favorite look from the weekend was this:

 

The shoe! The slit! The strut! The textured wall! The weather-appropriateness! I'm in love.Can you handle a bit more aesthetic gushing? Here's Tel Aviv's Rabin Square, graced by a stunning Holocaust memorial sculpture by artist Yigal Tumarkin.

 

I'm  a self-centered, pleasure-loving snob who loves good food and art. Sometimes I wonder how I can survive another day in the rubble and trash-covered West Bank.   I wish both countries would get their act together - that Israel would stop oppressing Palestine and Palestine would stop the random acts of violence.Israel can be violent too - but it's usually a quieter violence. For example, Charming has been frustrated that after his organization funded a new road leading to a small Arab village, Israel demolished the road, leaving the inhabitants stranded. The hearty young people will probably survive, but the infirm may die without speedy easy to food and medical care.  Palestine needs to resist, but not with violence.  Did you know non-violent resistance has a 75% success rate, compared to a 25% success rate for violent resistance? Someone needs to tell that to the world's terrorists, because they apparently haven't heard yet.This is not my conflict, though, and I'm only here to help where I can. Complaining doesn’t help. Thankfully, I'm also here to spend money and eat good food.  Anyway, I have a dream, that eventually, one day, a long, long time from now, or maybe sooner then we think, there will be stability in the Middle East. Israelis and Palestinians will have hummus-loving babies together and everyone will enjoy art, bicycling, and wearing Ray-bans in peace and harmony.

Things I Said I Would Do

There are some things I said I would do after my wedding, and gaining weight was one of them. I knew I'd eat a lot of delicious food during my and Prince Charming's honeymoon season and that would cause me to put on, oh, five to seven pounds. Done! In Tel Aviv, we ate like professionals.I ate:

• A  larger-than-Texas sesame bagel smeared with cream cheese and pesto and stuffed with tomatoes, olives, sweet corn, and a hard-boiled egg, then toasted in a panini press.  Here it is.

•  Sushi rolls topped with cold quail eggs and washed down with hot saki.
• Chewy french style bread ribbed with olives, topped with toasted pumpkin and sesame seeds, and spread with blue-veined cambazola.
• Foccacia and fresh penne pasta salad with bright green broccoli, vivid red tomatoes, and peppers the color of sunshine. It was topped by a snowpile of curly shredded parmesan and washed down with local white wine.
• The creamiest, richest tiramisu of my life.
• Passion fruit sorbet laced with the fruit's crunchy black seeds.
• Chocolate in bar and cake form.

Are you hungry yet? I am and I just finished eating a massive meal. I'm so thankful for good food.  I think enjoying food is one of the reasons we are here on Earth, so go out or stay in and cook something AMAZING today!

Another thing I said I would do after the wedding - or rather, would not do, is cut my hair. Why do lots of women cut their hair after getting married? I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I love long hair, and I swore I'd leave it long because I like it that way. But once we got to the West Bank, it felt heavy in the humidity and heat. I was ready for a change. Transitions go together, maybe. The heat and my need for an outer change to reflect the big life changes happening led me to steadily cut my hair off bit by bit, culminating in this final chop I had done at a Tel Aviv salon:

 

I enjoyed the experience of getting my hair cut. I like the novelty of looking different. But I know I'm going to want long hair again in, like, three weeks. It will take 18 months. But this is the second post in a row that mentions hair, so I'm going to stop talking about it now.  Let's talk instead about eggplants.

Eggplants

Yes, eggplants. They are painted all over Tel Aviv. Some graffiti artist is doing his or her thing with the spray can and the result is eggplants everywhere.

What do they mean? It's a mystery. There are eggplants of varying shades and emotionality all over the city.

What the fack? I looked up the symbolic meaning of the eggplant and couldn't find much that seems to apply. In some Asian cultures the eggplant symbolizes a variety of things. If anyone finds out anything, let me know.I'll close this post with the sun setting on the beach in Tel Aviv where we had beautiful moments.

Nine Ways to Skip (or Minimize) the Travel Adjustment Blues

When you move or travel to a new country where you don't speak the language or understand the culture, there is bound to be some transition-related stress. Prince Charming and I have not been immune. In retrospect, there are some things I personally could have done better, or could have tried to avoid to make the transition a little easier. I'll share nine of them.

1. Don't expect anything to be the way you expect it.

I had counted on all of our connections in the Middle East being, somehow, an easy 15 minute taxi ride away. However, they are scattered all over the place, and between the traffic and the checkpoints, meeting up with people can take hours, not to mention a hefty toll on the mood.

2. Don't start a new diet at the same time as moving.

I became a vegetarian shortly before arriving in the land of spinning cylinders of meat on every corner. I have stuck with it (although I  sometimes eat seafood) and I'm glad because I think it has improved my health. However, it would have been one less thing to worry about had I done it six months or a year before moving.  Every new habit or new activity you pick up before moving is just another new thing added to the overwhelming mountain of the unfamiliar that you are about to dive into.

3. Don't start a new medication before leaving.

In my case, I started taking a different kind of oral contraceptive almost immediately before leaving. My body needs time (about 3 months) to get used to a new hormone combination. Lesson learned. This lesson could apply toward any kind of medication, especially a long-term or brain chemistry altering medication such as an anti-depressant.

4. Go easy on yourself.

If you are like me, you want to jump into every possible activity, and understand where everything is, and be fluent in the language YESTERDAY! Celebrate the amazing victory of learning just one word a day. Eventually, you will feel like your normal, productive, fast-learning self, but for now, enjoy allowing yourself to not have any of the answers. This is a hard one for me, since I don't relish feelings of confusion and complete ignorance. In fact, they make me feel ashamed and sometimes humiliated. Those feelings lead to isolation and weight gain. So, I get lost. I learn to lean into the sense of freefall and disorientation, and just go with it, like jumping off a cliff into a cool lake.

5. Go easy on your travel buddy.

There is nothing like travel to get to know someone better. I went to a spiritual guide when I first began dating Prince Charming, and he recommended I travel with him to see if he was someone I wanted to spend my life with. I did, and I do, and here we are. The reason travel is so great for getting to know people is you see their worst and best sides. You see them exhausted and thrilled. You see them hungry and with tired feet. You find out how they lift their own spirits and if they are willing to lift yours.

6. Go easy on everyone.

This goes, of course, for everyone you meet in the new culture you are in. You might meet someone, and be highly offended by something they do or say. In fact, what they do or say might be the kind, polite thing to do in their culture. I believe that most people are doing their very, very, very best in life, even if it doesn’t seem like that.

7. Rely on the kindness of strangers.

There is nothing like travel to get you over "stranger danger" instincts. The truth is, most people are trustworthy, kind, and willing to help.  The people who aren't probably won't make eye contact. In fact, you probably won't even see them before they take off with your hand bag.  Get good at identifying friendly faces, and then ask for help without hesitation. The worst that will probably happen is they give you the wrong directions. See item 6.

8. Establish a Routine.

The sooner you can establish your new "normal day," the better. Get up at a regular time, go to bed at roughly the same time. Find out where and when you exercise and stick to your normal healthy habits. Don't stick to it like a machine, though. If there's a new adventure or social opportunity beckoning, be willing to bend your schedule.

9. Journal, Photograph, Blog, Email, and Skype.

Everything hard and everything that goes wrong, happens to be the stuff people find the most interesting. (We are mildly sadistic, we human beings. Or, more kindly, we enjoy learning from others mistakes). The wonderful moments that you document will be even more wonderful, because, like in a good adventure story, they are earned by the part where we fought the giant spider. Or the part where we kissed the frog. Or the part where we ate the poisonous apple. You get it.

Even though transitions can be more stressful when they come in batches - getting married and then moving immediately, for example - I don't regret our decision to start our marriage off in this way. This is priceless time together. It's incredible to be able to share each new challenge. It's exhilarating to be able to laugh off all the pressure we put on ourselves each day.

Thank you for allowing me to share my happy and challenging moments with you on this blog.

A Salty Birthday

Spa Club Dead Sea, Ein Bokek, Israel

We celebrated my birthday this weekend by floating in the Dead Sea and having relaxing, pampering, and unusual things done to our bodies.Charming scheduled a mud wrap, and I really tried hard not to sound creepy as I asked if it was okay if I... watched.

"No, " said the rather abrupt and brisk lass at the reception spa. She seemed very sure, until she changed her mind five seconds later.  I grabbed some great photos of Charming getting wrapped up in a mud enchilada, but to protect his privacy I won't put them here.

Later, I got oil dribbled all over my forehead and massaged into my scalp during an Indian treatment called Shirodhara.

When we arrived on Friday afternoon, I got right into the Dead Sea; I really wanted to feel the famous floating sensation. Sure enough, I felt like a was wearing floaties on my limbs as they popped to the surface of the  water.

 

I tested out a few different poses and angles, spending some time (as well as countless hours in front of bathroom mirrors over the course of my life) trying to take the most flattering bikini shot. Here it is.

 

Later I was playing in the water, finally able to live out my solo synchronized swimming dreams:

 

Before getting water in my eye. Ouch!

It kind of hurts.It really hurts!

The water has only gotten more potent with salt and dissolved minerals as it has shrunk in recent years due to the Jordan River, its only supplier, being siphoned off gradually. When you get in, you feel it sting any parts of your body that might be a little raw or red. After 15 minutes, (for me) it started to tingle and burn everywhere. If you get in in your eye, or if you have a cut somewhere, you better run out of the water and rinse it out.There was a ramp to help beachgoers enter the water, but salt had crystallized all over it, making it sharp and dangerous.

Anything that touched or hung in the water, such as the ropes on a large umbrella planted in the water, grew heavy with sharp salt crystals.

 

We reached down to the bottom, and pulled up not sand, but Charming's favorite cooking ingredient: salt.

 

The water looks like water, but it feels like warm oil, and beads up on your skin when you emerge. The warmth was strange, considering that it was very hot on the beach.  The double heat meant that a long, pleasurable day sunning on the beach was out of the question. We spent most of out time in the hotel.The next day, we woke up at 5 am to catch the sun rise on my birthday. It was a great way to start another year of life on this crazy planet. Thanks to my wonderful prince charming for this shot:

The morning was two or three degrees cooler than midday. That was my last float in the Dead Sea.What did we do for the rest of Birthday Weekend? There was eating, of course. Breakfast at Spa Club Dead Sea:

Dinner and lounging at Orjuwan Lounge in Ramallah Sunday evening.

 

And finally, the playing of the ukulele and the game of Risk.

Lessons With Mohammad

Cool Shey Tamaam

I've been taking Arabic lessons with this fabulous teacher named Mohammad:

 

Thanks to his patient instruction, good humor, and abundant provision of coffee and mint tea (shai bee nana), I'm on my way to polyglot-dom. Polyglottony, perhaps.The arabic alphabet is, thankfully, just about the same number of characters as in English.

My  favorite letter is "sha." It looks like this: ش I think it looks like a cup of  شاي "shai" (tea) that someone is sprinkling some sugar into. When it's connected to another letter, it loses the big scoop on it's left, as you can see in the word "shai." Look at that word "shai." It has three letters. "sha" and two vowels "ah" (looks like a 1) and "ai or ee." (ي )My favorite words and phrases so far are: (Arabic is written right to left)

My husband = Zowji = زوجي  No problem  = Mish Moshkilay = مش مشكيلة Tea with mint with sugar = Shai bee nana bee sukar = شاي بي نانا بي سكر Everything is perfect = Cool shey tamaam = كل شي تمام 

I'm still learning; I may have misspelled some of the words in Arabic.

I feel like I'm REALLY close to being able to read Arabic. I'm able to sound out many words on street signs if I give myself plenty of time. Knowing what the words mean is a whole different ballgame. But I have a fun feeling of a whole new world opening up. It's like being five and learning to read all over again.

Taybeh Micro Brewery in Taybeh, Palestine

A Beer for Jesus

This weekend, Prince and I jumped in the car, which had newly fixed air conditioning. AC, my friends, can save the world, or at least save a hot summer drive in Palestine. The AC was good for our marriage, and we actually enjoyed the drive to the tiny village of Taybeh, getting lost only a few times.

We arrived and drove almost straight into the microbrewery. It is tiny. No one seemed to be around. We left and came back. It looked like a garage with the door open. Should we wander around alone, we wondered?

Prince Charming thought not. We weren't even sure we were in the right place.

"You're right. This is weird." I said.

Finally, out of curiosity we wandered in, and we saw someone we had missed before: the daughter of the owner of the microbrewery, Ms. Koury. I'm sorry I can't remember her first name. Her family established the brewery in 1994. She very kindly gave us a tour. It was wonderful to see a successful enterprise where the owners obviously cared a great deal about the pristine quality of the product. We didn't get the free taste of beer at the end of the ten minute tour that the brochures promise, but it was rather early in the day and we also forgot to ask about it. We left with a box of beer and a couple photos of the brewery:

Taybeh changed it's name from Ephraim (of biblical fame) to Taybeh when Sultan Saladin passed through in 1187 and thought the folks in the village were hospitable and generous. Apparently, that's what Taybeh means, although we also heard that it means "delicious" so maybe the people tasted good too.

Jesus stopped by this village for a rest before his crucifixion. It's too bad the Taybeh Micro Brewery wasn't around in his day; I think he would've enjoyed the beer quite a bit, especially considering the series of really bad days coming up for him. Today, Taybeh is the only "Christian Village" left in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories, although there are many towns with Christians in them.

After our tour of the microbrewery, we endured 2.5 miles of spiritual and physical testing out in the desert outside of Taybeh on a lovely hike under the blazing noon sun. In the middle of our death march, we took refuge under a large olive tree. Much to our delight, the tree did not shrivel and die, but provided shade for our half hour rest and consumption of water, dates, peaches, and almonds.

We took the tree, and the spray-painted rock markers, to be a sign that we were on the right path, both spiritually and geographically, and continued a short ways to gaze at the dark mouths of caves in the hills surrounding Taybeh.

When we got back into the village, we found Peter's Place, a brand new restaurant that was "soft open," meaning that is was so new it hadn't had it's official grand opening yet. Ms. Koury recommended it, and we are so glad she did and that we climbed up the hill to the middle of the old part of the village to find such an oasis.

It was also so new that the menu had just a couple options: salad, seasoned bread, and/or hot meal:

Although the inside of the restaurant was cavelike, cool, and beautifully lit,

We decided to sit outside where the patio offered cool breezes and nice views. To finish up this post, I'll add this video which captures my general fatigue and joy at sitting down with a cold beer after a hike on a hot and dusty day.

Shark in a Souk

Prince Charming and I drove a few hours up to Acre, Israel (also called Akko) this weekend.  Alternately exhausting, colorful, peaceful, exciting, and always hot, the Akko trip was worth my throwing together a quick slideshow vlog for you. Click below for a chaotic, colorful, and very brief glimpse (3 minutes) of our trip.

Packing Ideas on Pinterest

I've recently updated my packing list ideas board on Pinterest. It's a great resource that's updated as I find clothes and things that might be useful or beautiful for traveling. Check it out here.