I have been tagged by Karoliina! Basically, this means that the following post will be long, as it will contain ten random/significant details about myself. At the end, I will tag a few other people who will then share ten somewhat random or significant details about themselves in their blogs before tagging more people to do the same. Aaah, what a lovely cycle here on the blogger world!!
Here goes, some tidbits about Yours truly:
1. Once, on a trip home from the capital of Ecuador (Quito) to our home in the jungle area, my family and I (plus a friend) got stuck between two landslides on a winding section of road we call the "Shell Road." This means that a drive that usually takes only five hours lasted 22 hours instead! It took the tractors that long to make their way along the road (with a 100-foot drop to the river on one side) to the site. To top it off, we were five people in the car, and had to try to sleep through the night with each other's elbows in our sides. And try finding a place to pee when you're surrounded by cars and trucks on every side and there is no place you can go because you are all stuck in the same place!
2. What delights me about food is its texture. The more different textures there are in a meal, the better I consider it to be! This may have something to do with why Twix is my favorite American candybar and why I like viili (soured and thickened milk that kind of oozes and stretches).
3. I have had 4 host families: meaning, I have lived with four families that have not been my own for some extended period of time. The first was in Colorado, then in Georgia, the next in Egypt and finally, in Finland.
4. As a little girl, I had two pink stuffed pigs that my grandmother made me and I took them everywhere with me. But at night, I would take my sister's red pig to sleep with, because I didn't want mine to be crushed or disfigured from use! (Horrid, aren't I!) I still have those pigs...
5. When I study, it's on my bed or on the floor surrounded by piles of books. Somehow the desk idea never caught on with me.
6. Our most memorable pet growing up was a woolly monkey named Magila. She loved to have baths and lay out in the sun to dry. She also loved to be held, and would curl her tail around my waist and get under my arm, from where it was hard to pull her off! My dad built a little hutch for her to sleep in, but she preferred sleeping under the cool tea bushes outside, until a fateful night when some mangy dogs came and literally scared her to death. I think we have had a total of 12 monkeys on our list of childhood pets.
7. It is extremely hard for me to hear my writing read out loud, especially my poems. I even remember leaving the room once, and having a classmate read my ballad out loud to the class!
8. I have a hitch-hiking habit that I have curbed in my older and wiser years...but it all began in Ecuador when we would hitchhike to the river on the back of pickup trucks or flatbeds. I also hitch-hiked from the bottom of Yosemite Valley in CA to the top in order to get back to our car after hiking a long trail. Secured by such successful spins, I continued the habit in Colorado where I flagged two ladies in a minivan when I got lost after over an hour of walking along picturesque trails. It took us a while to figure out where I lived, as I had only been in CO for two weeks or so. My next ride was with the head coach of the Denver Broncos when I missed the bus on my way to school. Then I rode from the Denver airport to the house where I stayed in a crammed sports car with a couple and their young kid since no one was at the airport to pick me up when I came from Ecuador. The final time was in the bright green VW Bug of some Asian dude, and it smelled like smoke and I got out pretty soon. Since then, I have been on a hitch-hiking hiatus.
9. My eyesight is something along the lines of -5.00 and some. The result is that I am hopelessly dependent on pieces of plastic to see anything clearly. Without them I have the sensation that I am dizzy, and since I can't see anyone, that they can't see me!
10. If I were to go crazy about some apparel item (translation: if my closet were huge, and if I had all the money in the world and it wouldn't make a dent in my travel resources), it would be for shoes. :)
Ok, now it's my turn to tag a few people. I hope to hear randomness from: Essy, Gem, Trekker, and Jon, if any of them happen to read this!
Tuesday, February 20
Monday, February 19
in the details
There is a power plant with a tall brick tower that exhales a long stream of smoke in the mornings as I head to the metro station. I remember that the first time I really noticed it I was surprised by the color combination of bright orange colored smoke clouds set against a navy sky. It seemed unreal and I marveled at the juxtaposition. On a more recent morning, the sky shone with a rich and bright blue, and the smokey stream puffed across its expanse in dusty rose hues. And this morning, the sky glowed light blue and the smoke billows that dissipated into it were gray, tinged on the bottom with ochre from the sun still waiting below the horizon to make its splendid entrance into the day.
This may be an odd way to measure the passage of time, but it is by marking these little details of my daily routine that I can clearly and colorfully see that the days lengthen and that the light is returning to these latitudes to ease the firm grip that darkness has held over the land.
This may be an odd way to measure the passage of time, but it is by marking these little details of my daily routine that I can clearly and colorfully see that the days lengthen and that the light is returning to these latitudes to ease the firm grip that darkness has held over the land.
Tuesday, February 13
Flashbacks
I walked through the early afternoon air, crisp with winter chill. I could hear the snow crunching under my boots and experience my senses reviving with outdoor smells. And that's when I was suddenly transported to you, dear mountains of Austria, where I always find rejuvenation and rest for my soul as I melt into your landscape and breath your scent of sweet earth.
I saw a picture of a friend from California. He left me a comment in the online world that brought a smile to my face and the memory of teas exchanged. And I was transported back in time to you, dear friends and community of the US, where your smiling faces and hugs warmed my life like the constant sunshine of Orange County.
I listened to two men talk animatedly in Spanish in my office, the younger one alive with tales of his visit to South America and with gestures and expressions so characteristic of people who live there. And I was poignantly aware of the fact that people here lack the communal aspect that can be found in your people, my lovely Ecuador.
Aaah, this is a hug sent out to the places I have been, the people I have known and love, the events that have shaped me and the lands that have awakened my imaginations. I would be a far poorer creature but for the wealth of colors, memories and people that compose my history and my journeys thus far. If I could wrap my arms around you--country or person--I would. But since I can't, suffice to say that you are in my heart.
I saw a picture of a friend from California. He left me a comment in the online world that brought a smile to my face and the memory of teas exchanged. And I was transported back in time to you, dear friends and community of the US, where your smiling faces and hugs warmed my life like the constant sunshine of Orange County.
I listened to two men talk animatedly in Spanish in my office, the younger one alive with tales of his visit to South America and with gestures and expressions so characteristic of people who live there. And I was poignantly aware of the fact that people here lack the communal aspect that can be found in your people, my lovely Ecuador.
Aaah, this is a hug sent out to the places I have been, the people I have known and love, the events that have shaped me and the lands that have awakened my imaginations. I would be a far poorer creature but for the wealth of colors, memories and people that compose my history and my journeys thus far. If I could wrap my arms around you--country or person--I would. But since I can't, suffice to say that you are in my heart.
Thursday, February 8
Sharing the Wealth
Indeed, what kind of scrooge would I be if I did not share with you tidbits of what I am learning? :) I am in a Classical Arabic Literature class, which is really more of a survey into the different time periods of Arabic literature rather than an in-depth study of any given poet. When speaking of literature in this context, I am speaking primarily of poetry, as prose was a secondary form at the time.
As a non-native Arabic speaker, I realize it is quite useless for me to even begin to understand the complexity of the genre. Take for example, the qasida form of poetry: its long structure involves a beginning that bemoans the loss of the poet's beloved, often amid the smoldering embers of a fire; then moves to a travel section which usually includes the description of the camel that the poet is riding, perhaps through the desert on a dark night; and finally, the end contains a message or a eulogy of the poet's tribe or person. The qasida is a poetry form developed in pre-Islamic times and continued for centuries after the arrival of Islam. Throughout these centuries, instead of innovating changes in the structure of the poem, the poets concentrated on the nuances of language, refining it and designing new comparisons.
The Arabic poetic tradition is very proud of its rich language. And due to its long-lasting heritage there is an intense depth to the poems, as a poet may with the choice of one given word make an allusion to another writer's description or idea that has been written centuries before him. I, as the outsider, am quite lost when a narration suddenly begins to describe the beloved's fresh breath, comparing it to an herb garden, and mentioning a fly that rubs its legs together, like the friction of two sticks to ignite a spark of fire (or was it somehow a one-legged fly...). It is random, I assure you. But I am a fan of the random in life.
I have only mentioned qasida poetry; there is much more under the topic of Classical Arabic Literature that I have yet to be introduced to. But I am hoping to write a paper on the poetry of Al-Andalus, or Muslim Spain (I will attempt to write it in Spanish!). I would like to leave you with a humorous poem written by Al-Sumaisir (11th century), from an anthology of Moorish poetry. It brought to mind the little buggers that show up in the first half of the Finnish summer:
As a non-native Arabic speaker, I realize it is quite useless for me to even begin to understand the complexity of the genre. Take for example, the qasida form of poetry: its long structure involves a beginning that bemoans the loss of the poet's beloved, often amid the smoldering embers of a fire; then moves to a travel section which usually includes the description of the camel that the poet is riding, perhaps through the desert on a dark night; and finally, the end contains a message or a eulogy of the poet's tribe or person. The qasida is a poetry form developed in pre-Islamic times and continued for centuries after the arrival of Islam. Throughout these centuries, instead of innovating changes in the structure of the poem, the poets concentrated on the nuances of language, refining it and designing new comparisons.
The Arabic poetic tradition is very proud of its rich language. And due to its long-lasting heritage there is an intense depth to the poems, as a poet may with the choice of one given word make an allusion to another writer's description or idea that has been written centuries before him. I, as the outsider, am quite lost when a narration suddenly begins to describe the beloved's fresh breath, comparing it to an herb garden, and mentioning a fly that rubs its legs together, like the friction of two sticks to ignite a spark of fire (or was it somehow a one-legged fly...). It is random, I assure you. But I am a fan of the random in life.
I have only mentioned qasida poetry; there is much more under the topic of Classical Arabic Literature that I have yet to be introduced to. But I am hoping to write a paper on the poetry of Al-Andalus, or Muslim Spain (I will attempt to write it in Spanish!). I would like to leave you with a humorous poem written by Al-Sumaisir (11th century), from an anthology of Moorish poetry. It brought to mind the little buggers that show up in the first half of the Finnish summer:
Mosquitos
Mosquitoes are sucking
My blood like sweet wine,
And hey noddy-noddy
They merrily sing.
How nimbly they're plucking,
These minstrels divine!
Their lute is my body,
Each vein is a string.
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