Eid in Ramallah

Quelle chance!!! I'm leaving for Ramallah via Amman tonight. I'm going on a holiday for Eid which will not technically be a holiday since I am going with a colleague and I will meet some of our local partners in Palestine but I will enjoy Eid as well. The funniest thing is that I am going to stay with my friends family who are Christian but from the last time I lived in Palestine I have several friends left who are Muslim and who have invited me to celebrate with them.

I cannot really believe that I am going back but it feels like a real gift. I will also try to study hard and good while there. I really need to increase the pace in which my Arabic is coming along, even though I am travelling a lot to other parts of the world before Christmas.

So, if I am not a good writer for the past 12 days you know where I am. I hope that when I'll be back here Internet will be set up at home (although I would not expect my room mate to get her thumb out to fix it...). Insh'a Allah I'll be reporting from my travels upon my return.

Happy Eid!

Bruises on forehead

I am all for people being religious if they choose that path in life. I myself have not got a particular faith. I am aware of the hope/meaning religion gives to people everywhere and I respect that.

At work we have so called "runners", they are young men who take documents from one place to another and fix administrative things to the left and to the right. They are indispensable and very, very nice. I also suspect they have good degrees from University.

One of these runners is very religious and as usual this is actually "written" on his forehead: he has bruises from praying. I do not know why one chooses to bend down violently while praying, I hope it is not an end in itself because it seems to be quite painful to repeat that action 5 times a day, ever increasing the marks on the forehead. Still it is one of those small things that makes me realise I am in a different culture and that there are small subtle things which distinguishes people from each other. I like to discover these subtleties, even though they have a religious pretext and I wish that religion here would not be as important as it is, mostly because it is an expression of other things such as poverty, anti Western sentiment and a symbol of compassion with the group and the intolerance of "the other", etc.

Time of absence explained

So, I have moved into my new place - I love it!!!! I am so fortunate and I can almost see the Mediterranean from my balcony. Well, everything about it is really nice. But I do not yet have an internet connection and I am now writing from work to explain my situation. I will therefore be brief. Hopefully I can be up and surfing by next weekend, but with Ramadan and other cultural factors, it may be a little later.

I'll be back.

Iftar continued

Wow, Ramadan has started to really hit me: I have a constant sensation of eating too much. The very rich food served at Iftar is taking its revenge on my poor belly which is not used to eating so much oil of all kinds. So I'm drinking anise seed tea in my office - yes, because I am not not drinking during Ramadan, it would kill me not to and I am not a Muslim so I can drink.

Friday night I had a succulent dinner at my friends: rice with cinnamon and fried chicken liver, nuts and sultanas on top, roast chicken, vegetables and a spinach/okra bake with cheese which was delicious. I ate more than the other 4 family members put together because my hosts would not accept when I said I was full. It was really nice, but a bit too much food.

Tomorrow I will go to Iftar at the Swedish Institute - they have one each year and invite people who work with them or who are otherwise related to it (for example all the Swedish people in Alex - we are 13 all together!). The day after that me and my colleagues are making Iftar for our other colleagues, this will be nice I think. I will make lassies* for afters - to help the digestion along and to have something sweet after the meal.

So it will be the week of the organised Iftars and also of concerts - there is some kind of festival going on in Alex with Mid eastern and Spanish vibes linked together. I am not sure what it is exactly but I will go see.

Hmm it's still raining. I am feeling a bit under the weather actually. I am missing home a bit but I know that it is an illusion (what is home anyway? It's not like I would like to go back to living with my parents, that would really be frustrating). It's because of the fact that I am feeling that my work and my studies are not progressing as I would like. I am doing well though, there is no question, it's just that all my life languages have been easily acquired to me but Arabic is proving to be difficult. Also I think I do not have a brilliant teacher, but with my travelling schedule for this autumn it will not be possible to take a normal course. Anyway, I am sure I will get better.

I'm looking forward to some Spanish tunes tonight, I think it's just what the doctor prescribed.

*Lassie is an Indian drink based on mango and yoghurt which is seasoned with cardamom and possibly some honey.

Il pleut

Il s'est mis a pleuvoir. J'aime la pluie autour de la Méditerranée - doux et chaud. C'est dimanche - une journée que d'habitude signifie la pause et un film le soir au cinéma. C'était aussi - auparavant- la journée après une soirée réussite avec mes amis de Bruxelles - les amis qui sont comme la groupe d'amis dans "Friends", chaque un avec sa propre caractère et son charme. Ils me manquent!!! Beaucoup.

Le Champagne, les repas ensemble et les verres en terrasse. Ça me manque. J'ai une journée de nostalgie aujourd'hui, mais je vais bien. C'est seulement que je veux leur dire que ils sont très importantes pour moi et même si je suis loin maintenant, ils sont toujours avec moi - dans mes rêves et mes souvenirs et surtout dans mon cœur. Je reviendrais je serai très contente si on pourra fêter le nouvelle ans avec vous, je vais essayer de l'organiser comme ça! Champagne galore mes amis, Champagne galore!

Iftar

I don't have much time today - I am invited to my friend's for Iftar - the traditional breakfast, the breaking of the fast for the day. I cannot fast myself, that is - I cannot live without drinking water! I believe that not drinking water in the heat is a crime for your organism, but I respect and am surprised at people who can do it.

I need to now go and get some cakes from the bakery to bring as a gift to my host - I am really excited and I will write more about it tomorrow.

Yesterday I was in a coma it seems. The new apartment has a life of its own, i.e. all the preparations for moving in etc. just pumped all energy out of me yesterday. But tomorrow the final touches will be made for us to move in. I cannot wait - even if I am really ok where I am now too, but it's going to be nice to get my own place where I can put my own things and decorate the alls as I wish. After all I think I will stay here for 2 year.

Green Oranges

Ahlane!
After my quite heavy political statement of yesterday I wanted to lighten up the mood a bit. I had a wonderful afternoon today. Ramadan comes with its perks: finishing work early.

After work I walked into town with my two wonderful colleagues, aimlessly at first, then in quest to seek a rheumatism bracelet for Laila and then, when passing a fool seller on the street my colleagues succumbed to the temptation: we shall have fool for dinner! Fool is actually something that Egyptians (at least from what I have heard) have for breakfast. It is a special type of brown bean boiled into perfection which you then eat either as is or, which is more frequent, served with different "sauces" or seasoning. We bought boiled beans plain from the man on the street and set out to find some other ingredients for the accessories my colleagues were cooking up in their minds as we walked along Saad Zaghloul.

Not far from home we found some open fruit mongers and bought tomatoes, parsley, coriander and some green oranges. Actually I didn't know what they were until food was ready on the table: two delicious types of fool (tomato/garlic/parsley/coriander and olive oil/fresh lemon juice) brown pita bread, onion and olives. I had initially thought that these green round citrus fruit were lemons (or huge limes) but I asked and got the answer: green oranges.

Wicked - new tasting experience! I thought it would be really sour, since not ripe fruit tends to be just that but when sticking my teeth into it I felt an enormous sense of happiness of having discovered a really basic and silly little thing: one can eat and enjoy (really enjoy!) immature oranges. Of course I had to know if they were not just another kind of fruit, that one actually is meant to eat raw but no - apparently not! So here is the thing, oranges grow in Europe too, how come I did not know this before? Do we not eat green oranges because they are called oranges and everyone expect them to be orange? Do we not eat them green because by the time they get to our shops they have ripened in that unnatural exported fruit type of way? Probably a combination of the two. I believe that had I seen a green orange in a supermarket in Sweden, would not have chosen it, I had gone for the orange one. (Some day I will post a separate post on the wonderful fruit one get here).

See what little pleasures one misses when one stays in one place all ones life and sticks to old habits and patterns of thinking. Ok, I will not make this into politics...I will just say that I have a mission: candied green orange peels - mmm. Cannot wait to move into my new flat next week - then I will start cooking and exploring this country for real.

God natt.

Muhammed as a dog

I'm sorry I haven't written in forever, honestly I didn't think anybody was reading what I wrote so I didn't have such bad feelings. Now that I have learned that I have at least one reader, I am happy to continue. Thanks!

I'm back in Alex, it's Ramadan and I am following the now international debate about the Swedish artist Lars Vilk's drawings of Muhammed as a dog (actually a dog meant to be put in a roundabout, which has been a Swedish hype since sometime early this year. I mean dogs of all kinds in roundabouts, not Muhammed the prophet). Again the discussion of freedom of expression is under way and in Swedish media one can read many good articles about the importance for a secularised state to uphold the liberties of a free society, including of course a freedom of expression.

Per Baun writes in Svenska Dagbladet today:
"The secular democracy presupposes free questioning of convictions. But if we want to avoid harming conviction we need to give up that principle.

In such a scenario it is the groups who are most easily insulted (and prone to violence) who draw the limits of the freedom of expression. However you call such a state, it is not a democracy.

The enemies of freedom of expression want to make their message more easily digestible by presenting it as an appeal for consideration and respect. By describing themselves as victims, fundamentalists surprisingly often succeed in getting the debate to be about how insulted they are and not about their own intolerance.

They use the soft democracy's inherent fear of not being inclusive enough to advance their positions. But the secular democracy has no reason to apologise for its freedom of expression.
And those who now protest in the name of the Islamic indignation should be aware of that they can do so only in the protection of the same secular freedom of expression that they wish to restrict" (the latter of course applies to those in secular democracies).

Not a bad article and I have read many like it, but let's see what we are overlooking here. For all of us working in the Middle East this kind of illustrations can harm the work we are trying to carry out. In today's globalised world it is enough that one intolerant person hears that someone has defied the rules of Islam and depicted the prophet to create mass protests and casting of fatwas on the responsible artists and publishers of the illustrations. We know this of experience since Jyllands Posten (the Danish newspaper) published caricatures of Muhammed in 2005.

I am occidental and I would hope that the world could be a freer place, but lets face the facts most fundamentalists (Christian, Muslim, Hindus etc.) live in those countries where poverty reigns and democracies a best are the names given to the reign by its leaders. Palestine is a Democracy, but there the secularised democracies did not let the people's choices rule due to the nature of Hamas. What had have happened if the West had accepted Hamas and the money flow had not been cut etc.? We will never know. Poverty, desperation and corruption and rivalry between countrymen is reality there and in so many other Muslim countries.

Poor people often are poor out of external factors, not because they are lazy and do not work. If one does not have anything how can one then begin to understand that the only thing in their life which gives them hope and provides them security in which they trust can be questioned and humiliated by the people they see on TV and that seemingly have all they need and even more? I can imagine that they do not understand why an artist on purpose humiliates Islam, and depicts Muhammed and also humiliates the prophet by making him a dog. The Muslim leaders who are well educated and live in the West have accepted the discussion but how can poor people in rural areas who at best know how to read and write, take this information and process it as we who have food, safety and even luxurious goods in abundance can?

I have a hard time knowing what this debate will bring. My conclusion would be to educate the poor- voila! It's what I am trying to do, but it is a far bigger task than drawing Muhammed as a dog to stir up emotions and to put freedom of expression to the test.

Many of my friend back home categorically dismiss the Muslim world's reaction to these depictions but I cannot help finding them arrogant and intolerant in another way: they cannot imagine life without all that they have and have gotten use to. I bet if they were even only quite poor in Swedish standards they would not even get into the discussion from such an angle - they would be more concerned about paying their bills and finding work or, unfortunately hating the immigrants for their intolerance, turning to nationalistic and racist organisations which, after all isn't any better than the reaction we see from the Muslim world.

Happy Ramadan to all of you - it is after all a month of love, peace and reflection.

Period of absence

I have a lot to write about and even some photos to post from this weekends adventures with my Arabic teacher and her family. I am starting to feel at home here, to be relaxed with the people and not to be so lazy, as I was when I arrived, mostly because of lack of sleep and lack of rest.

I feel quite rested now and ready for new challenges and so I am going home for a couple of weeks to acquire some knowledge. I am finally having the luxury of going to courses paid by my employer, something which is rather common in Sweden, but really feels like luxury to a person who has spent her first years as an employee on existential minimum.

So I can not guarantee any posts in the coming two weeks since I will be quite busy learning and seeing friends and family, but who knows, a message from Sweden may appear a day when I feel that I am in abundance of time.

Cheerio - so long

Roba Becchia

I love languages, although I find Arabic very challenging. However, every once in a while the Egyptian Arabic is spiced with European words of Greek, Italian or Spanish origin. The other day I was on the balcony reading a book and I heard a salesman shouting "roba becchia" (spelled the way you would in Italian-roba bekia phonetically). I did not know what exactly I was hearing at the time but I was amused.

Yesterday, when sitting down with my Arabic teacher she told me that roba becchia in fact means what in Italian is called roba vecchia, i.e. old stuff. In fact the man is selling stuff he has found on the street or begged for in different houses around town. So Egyptian Arabic can be really easy - if you know a couple of European languages, unfortunately those influences have been in decline after Nasser who wanted to use the Standard version of Classic Arabic in schools and media. Oh well, I'm happy with the small things.

It also struck me that it's called roba becchia, which is closer to the Italian than the Spanish Ropa Vieja, but that the v in Spanish is pronounced b - of course, like the Arab version of the Italian word. The Arabic alphabet doesn't contain the letter v, nor does it contain p and so those letters often fall under b when "Arabifying" a word. Maybe that's where the Spanish got the rules for pronouncing the v as b from. I don't want to look it up on Wikipedia - I allow myself to interpret it in this way, until proven differently.

All good things!

Si Libet Licet

Si libet licet is Latin (dooh) and translated into Swedish it means: Om det lyster dig ar det tillatet , which are very beautiful words. In English it would be: If it pleases you it is allowed. I think it is an absolutely wicked way to live and although I may sometimes be too scared to do so fully, I am trying to abide by this motto which I was introduced to by my teacher in secondary school (and she was a back-up singer with Abba too).

The Spirit of Anna

It is in fact commonplace to explain oneself in the world of the Blog community - some people have titles to their Blogs which are logical and explain the purpose of the writer's intention with its sheer presence. THIS IS NOT SUCH A BLOG. Already, for one, I do not like the word Blog, I associate it with people who want to brag about their talents and their personalities. Perhaps I am no different, although I do wish to be.

Perhaps it isn't clear to you in the 'About me' section that the purpose of this blog, ultimately, is about communicating with my friends. I am away from them at this very point in time and I feel as though there are things I could share with them, things I see or smell or taste or hear every day which I easily could disseminate through a forum like. And they would have the choice if they wanted to know what I was doing or not. I like freedom of choice. Secondly I had the idea before I came here that I could communicate things from a culture which I feel is largely unknown to a lot of Europeans and westerners, but I see now that it would be rather pretentious and that I probably don't have the ability to do that in an accurate way. Nor do I have the motivation to find out facts and try to make objective remarks about something I do not know so well. I am a person who is steered by my emotions and therefore they will be the guides to what I write here.

Then the name 'Spirit of Anna' also sound very pretentious but it has in fact a story to it. I actually wanted the name 'Spirit' only for the blog, but it was taken so I just put in the rest, pushed the ok button and hoped for the second best. 'Spirit' has been the tentative name for a restaurant I would like to run one day. 'Spirit' because I am Swedish and I would serve alcohol of all possible kinds, but also because I love to use a little bit of alcohol in the food I make - I find it enhances most things. Then of course, there is the spiritual implication of the word - the connection to the inner self and the way that I feel when I get to serve food to the people I love. The vitality of the word which makes me feel happy and invigorated (like going from the sauna to bathe in the frozen lake). The word spirit has many connotations and therefore I wanted it to be mine in the form of a place where people could come and meet and share pleasures together.

The dream of Spirit hasn't died. I have just gone for the other passion I have in life, that of trying to help a few people to lead a better life with the help of money spent by public or private funders in project of various kind. I love this job too, especially when I get to see the results of the work that we mostly carry out from our desks and I have faith in what I do even if the world sometime discourages you. I'm still young and I would like to experience many things before choosing the right place to set up Spirit. So until then I will lead my nomadic life of discovering cultures and other peoples' spirits and cooking traditions and this blog will be the only taste of me available, hall till godo!

On the streets of Alexandria

Walking in Alex is a dangerous and surprising experience due to at least 3 factors:

1) The heat. Ok, we knew this already, it's hot in Africa, right, but it isn't the heat as much as the humidity of the littoral town (ok, city) that bothers you when walking. My Swedish/Finish hair is not made for humidity levels up to 95% and I am seriously thinking of a radical cut next week when I get back home for a wee spot of training. I'll probably change my mind in super dry Scandinavia though and then end up regretting having to go to a hair dresser here. Not because of the lack of Arabic words pertaining to hair but because they will never have seen or touched Nordic hair before and 'm quite sure they don't know how to cut it. Like those barbers who specialize in frizzy hair - often beheld by the people coming from Sub Saharan Africa (gotta be politically correct).

Where was I - yes, the heat. Ok, so that is factor 1 and it is quite logical. It is also a factor which will get better as the summer comes to an end, which however is about a month or two away - and I am not complaining, I'll choose heat over cold any day. The humidity, however - I could do without.

2) Traffic. Honestly I have never seen people drive like this anywhere else. There are lanes marked out in the roads but if you have 3 marked out lanes, that means 5 actual lanes and it is very Nordic of me to call them lanes, as if the Egyptians would stick to neat rows of cars. In fact, you drive where there is a spot free to do so. You push cars next to you to drive to the side by approaching them from behind, you honk the horn.

Honking the horn is a very common practice here and it is good for anything - also for what I am about to develop under item 3 below. But when it comes to the actual getting somewhere on the road it is good for any junction up ahead - honk honk, I have made sure I am free of responsibility if there is a car coming from any other direction. It is good for going the wrong way up a one way street - honk, honk watch out, I'm coming through!. It is good for passing a red light at 70 km/h - honk, honk full speed ahead Insh’Allah! Yes because I suspect that the great God has a lot to do with the way people drive. Their lives are in his hands with the symbol of the God - the blue eye, hanging from the rear view mirror. However, sometimes he has a bit too much to do in this part of the world to protect all people in the mayhem on the streets. Walking to work last week I saw a nasty accident with two mini buses - the drivers of which seem to be the worse kind of speeders. On the side of the road - by the Court house lay a dead woman in a puddle of blood, covered with a blanket. Nobody seemed to care or to even take notice, I did.

Another truly surprising thing about the traffic are the pedestrians. They are just as much a danger to traffic as the speeding drivers in their small cars, which most probably were sent to be scrapped in Europe a decade ago. People cross roads and high ways here as there was no tomorrow. They just head out, completely oblivious of the cars passing by them on 5:th gear. They laugh at me when I wait for a spot free of cars to cross the street. I would have loved to see statistics on how many accidents that are caused by pedestrians on the street when drivers are forced to swerve or to hit the breaks and steer clear of the fragile human being on the street. I am quite sure though that this kind of statistics doesn't exist here - I am wondering if they at all have statistics for deaths in traffic.

And so for my last reason for finding walking a bit precarious:

3) The attention. About 90% of the people that I pass by on the streets address me in one way or another. The most common form of trying to get my attention is "welcome to Egypt", "you're welcome" or just "welcome". I get the first and the last but I don't know for what I am welcome? Their interest in me as a very pale white woman? I put it down as a lack of knowledge of the English language - they want to say welcome really.

Then there are other forms of attention seeking: The more verbal Egyptians (verbal in English): "What's your name" - a classic in its genre, "How are you" - very polite, "Where are you from" - very unusual because it is a difficult sentence for an Arabic speaker who would say "Where you from" and maybe they know they are wrong so they try another phrase. Then you have the "Do you play basketball" - which isn't so surprising to people who know me and know I have been getting this question since I was about 13 years old, it is probably the most effective way of getting my attention too - over here it makes me laugh, at home it is sort of boring. Now I know that the people using these phrases cannot really speak English very well because if they would they would follow me on my way and speak to me (and this isn't really a sign of being a good English speaker, it is a sign of self confidence more than anything).

Then we have the more Neanderthal approaches: The ksskskks... calling as if I were a cat, the whistles or the honking of horns or blinking the head lights. Taxi cars use the latter technique to ask if I want to catch a ride with them - obviously charging me the double of an Egyptian. The animal-calling-cries or whispers infuriate me, but I admit I do not know what kind of status they have in society here. I mean - do they do that because I am white and I am treated differently from the Egyptian women, or do they use these calls also for them, I hope so. Because even if I know I am different here I don't want to be. I don't want to ignore people as I do now on the streets - to avoid too many questions or having to buy too many things on my way home. I want to be proud and be able to respond to people if they ask me things, but I want to be able to do it in their language - as an equal, even though I will never be like them.

So, my experience of walking in this town may be a bit traumatic at times but apart from the traffic - which will not get better during the course of my stay here - I will learn the language as I already have coped with the heat (and maybe my hair will too with the humidity). They aren't strange - I am the stranger and I need to learn their ways. I will do it insh'Allah - I will do it!

Peace out!

Egyptian mornings

This morning I walked to work. It's not far but when it is really hot it's a bit of a hassle. This morning the breeze from the sea caressed the shores of Alex pleasantly and so the decision to walk was not a difficult one.

Really, 8:20 isn't early to walk to work, it takes me about 30 minutes, when I do not stop, put my had in my handbag in order to spend five minutes to find my wallet, take out an Egyptian pound and give it to the old toothless woman in black who is begging on the street. Today I needed to get to work early so I avoided going past my beneficiary - I did feel bad but until I can communicate properly with her I need to go slow - on myself, I want to know who I am giving money to.

So, moving on, past Cecil hotel and all its history, on to the corniche and past the awful traffic chaos by the unknown soldier monument - trying desperately not to be hit by a car. Upon success of the latter I found myself in front of the court house. Here I am amazed by two things: 1) cars are actually parked correctly and where they are supposed to, and 2) there is always something noticeable occurring around the court house.

Today a young man was sleeping in the shadow of the small planted palm trees (more like bushes) and I wondered what he was doing there. Could it be he was a witness or that he had to otherwise appear in court this morning and had traveled from afar the whole night to get to Alex? Then I saw he wasn't wearing shoes and that the soles of is feet were really dirty. He may just have been a smart homeless person in a nice short sleeved shirt sleeping in front of the court in order not to be disturbed by anyone. What do I know?

Then I remembered a thing my friend told me: every year Egyptians from other parts of the country come to Alex for a holiday and they camp by the fort - where the light house previously stood. Now that would be a historical and very educative place to camp, only that it is currently the end of a very busy road, there is no grass to sleep on and the stone and concrete dictate the colour scheme. But these families camped there and they were happy - it is the end of the Corniche and a spot where many Alexandrians walk in the summer evenings, munching on a grilled corn roll. Nobody seems to mind the campers either - they may have here a sort of law allowing people to camp anywhere in the city, like we do in Sweden for the nature: allemansratten (give or take a few dots over some of the letters).

The young man with the rather stylish shirt, trousers and dirty bare feet may have been a tourist who found a good spot in the shadow to lay his tired head to rest, e basta! Why is that hard to grasp for a person who only once tried to sleep on the beech of Nice and ended up staying awake, watching her friend sleep through the night? Mmm - we think we are pragmatic in the North, but not that pragmatic!

So, after this long detour of words I reached the office.

An Egyptian day at the office was about to begin.

New crossroads

Hello and welcome to what is to become a blog of thoughts about meetings, people that cross my path, cultures to discover or just the crossroads of my heart and mind.

I am currently in Alexandria, Egypt, and I will stay here for sufficiently long to better grasp a culture, language and religion which is not my own but which I with my current limited knowledge feel is judged wrongly and too hastily in the context of the politics of the globalised world.

I will never claim to have the right answers, and I will try not to judge events, experiences and feelings that come to me as I come across them. You may criticize me and comment on what I write but you must keep in mind that I am not claiming to write truths - I write what comes to mind and heart, what infuriates and what excites me.

Welcome! is the word I today hear most frequently when walking on the streets of Alex. To you: welcome to the spirit of me, let's embark on a journey.