Ho Ho Ho from the Holiday Market!

OK, I know I haven’t been blogging lately and the reason can be summed up in two words: Union Square. Actually four words: Union Square Holiday Market. The biggest holiday market in NYC and an event that Maruska (my business partner) and I have been gearing up for for the last year. So the past 6 weeks have been filled with papier mache, sewing, printing shirts, more sewing and general planning for this big event.
The Union Square Holiday Market is a month-long market in the style of a German Christmas market. Little booths with lots of interesting stuff to buy and eat. There are a lot of designers and artists who sell unique items perfect for any Xmas wish list. It may cost you a little more, but it’s definitely worth it since most of things you find here are a) one of a kind and b) handmade by local people (like myself). Resist the mind-numbness of mall shopping and get your ass to this market or one like it near you.
We opened a week ago and so far it’s been pretty good. A little slow but that’s to be expected (as the veterans have been telling us). They say the last two weeks will be really crazy so that’s what I am getting ready for. Maruska and I have one of the most welcoming and colorful booths in the market loaded with great stuff—t-shirts, pajamas, quilts and blankets for babies, Diva Kitties, original art, ornaments, and so on. My latest animal, the tiger is looking to be a hot seller for me. Next week, I’ll be debuting a giraffe design which should be fabulous.
What I love about the market is that it’s like a little village full of friendly people that you get to see every day. I know many of the vendors around us from other markets and those I don’t know, we are already buddies. Besides Belle, the jeweler and Jensen the textile designer, there’s Sister Kristina from Belarus selling Russian laquer boxes, ornaments and matroshki for the monastery where she works. Of course she and I blab in Russian all day. She’s not a real nun but works at the St. Elisabeth monastery in Minsk. They sent her because she personable and knows English. Actually I’ve been speaking a lot of Russian at the market. Besides Kristina, there’s Azamat and Hamid, two young students from Tajikistan selling Pillow Pets. Oh those Christmas jobs! All the Russian speaking opened up a door with Lisa who sells jewelry across from us. Turns out she and I lived in Russia at the same time. Small world huh? She and I ran in different crowds. I was more in with the Russian students who came over to find work and she was more corporate, working for Saachi and Saachi, a high-falootin’ ad agency. Still we have good reminiscing time when it’s slow. On the other side of us is the Viking cuisine and Dezign Mind booth. Run by Klaus and Tina, the Viking cuisine is basically hearty food like meatballs with potato salad, rice pudding and little hamburgers. Klaus is the showcase of that booth, where he and his girls cook up a storm all day in the Viking hats. Dezign Mind is Tina’s booth full of things from Bali: toys, ornaments boxes, masks, etc. The biggest draw is the wooden frog toy that you make rabbit by stroking its back with a stick. So besides the smell of meatballs all day, we hear croaking frogs too. We’ve already grown accustomed to it all.
Besides working at the market all day, I’ve still been teaching ESL two nights a week at Brooklyn College. Monday, I’m having my students come to the market to do a Scavenger Hunt, using their English skills to find out information and to have a chance to get out of Brooklyn. They belly ache about taking the subway and all, but I assured them that they’re going to have a good time—and they will, once they get here.
So here it is a Thursday morning, the beginning of the second week for us. Before I know it, we’ll be finished and resting at home on Christmas Day. The weather has gotten quite warm today, in the 60’s, so that should bring out the shoppers. Look out for more pictures and news from the market in the next weeks!

The October Missive

Jackhammers somewhere off in the distance provide a steady beat to the usual morning sounds of birds chirping, cars moving up the street and classical music from my bedside clock/radio. They jackhammerers are far enough away to not be annoying. Thus opens another Tuesday in the life of 2Me here in Brooklyn. The cats have been fed, the tea has been poured and after a few weeks, it is time to blog.
Papier Mache has taken over my kitchen table this morning. Since the temperature has dropped, I figured it’s best to have my projects dry in the warmth of the kitchen instead of the chill of the art studio. I’m making ornaments and big collage hearts and cat heads for the Union Square Holiday Market. In addition to my line of shirts, I’m whipping up some hand made things to sell. This week I’m working on papier mache, next week is tie-dying and then I begin to sew. By November 25th ,when the market starts, I’ll be all set with a wide array of merchandise to sell.
I really enjoy this creative time I have right now. No rushing around to different jobs (just one and a few subbing gigs) and I’m focused and getting things done. Not a lot of distractions and I’m feeling very productive. May this feeling last!
It’s good I’m home at this time because they have begun gutting the house next door to me and I can keep a close eye on the work to make sure they don’t trash my house in the process. Here in Brooklyn we share walls—a single row of bricks and a layer of plaster is all that separates us. One too many bangs on the wall and we could have trouble. They’ve actually already done some minor damage and loosened a wall cabinet in my 3rd floor apartment. I’m still waiting for them to come over and fix it. The owner isn’t a jerk so I don’t want to be a jerk—yet. The put up scaffolding in front of the house and by law have to go 5 feet on either side which means half of my house is covered by scaffolding. This would send some people I know into a tirade but I look at things in a more positive light—I’ve got a front deck! The scaffolding comes up to my living room window so I can go out and enjoy the sunsets al fresco now. My friend Stuart and I tested it out the other day by having tea out there. A little wobbly but it worked. Who knows how long it’ll be there but come Christmas and that thing is getting decorated. I’ve made friends with the Mexican workers who are gutting the place. A good thing to do, especially when you have junk in your basement you want to throw into their dumpsters. They let me throw away some old doors that have been cluttering up the basement for years. In return, I buy them beer. They plan to extend the house another 24ft which basically means my patio will be boxed in. Not too bad really, I’ll grow a trumpet vine up it which will make it less ugly. They say they’ll be done in 4 months but I doubt that. Winter is coming and how much work will get done? We’ll see.
So my secret mission to Canada was a big success and not so secret anymore so I can talk a bit about it. Amazing trip! It was so good to see all my former students, well the 20 or so that came out to the Afghan restaurant where we met up. They look and try to act like mature people but deep inside they are still young kids navigating their way through this new world. Despite the fact that they snuck away from the program I work on, and I did tell them that it upset me, I’m impressed how they are making a life for themselves in Canada. It’s not easy to be a teenager and have to rent an apartment, go to school (many are still in high school), do all the domestic stuff that they aren’t used to (cleaning, cooking and shopping) but together, they are surviving. I got some good footage and interviews with some of the kids on camera with the intention of making a film but on second thought, this would make a better book so a book I have begun to write. It’s a story I think I can tell well because these kids trust me and will open up to me about things. They also know that I would never do anything to put them in harm’s way or exploit them. I just think they have fascinating stories to tell and it could make for a compelling book. That said, I’m on page 12 of the book and it seems to be just writing itself. Another trip is planned for January! That’s all I can say about that for now.
OK, t-shirts at Friedman’s await me and I must go pick up my big order for the Christmas line. Also need to look through my book of designs and see which new designs I will be printing. But first a stop at Lindo’s with Pete for some breakfast served up by Denise—the sassy Puerto Rican waitress at our breakfast spot.

Reflections on weeks past in LaGuardia

Another airport, another destination. Nothing exotic or faraway, just Canada. Seems like once I get home, the blogging slows down and only picks up when I’m in an airport or on my way to somewhere. I suppose NYC life gets me on my hamster wheel, spinning around and around and I just get time to blog. Or maybe you just don’t want to read about the mushroom omelette I had for breakfast or that my cat who is dying of cancer is doing great. Well either way, I’m gonna write about it.
Let me start with the entertainment review. Been catching up on my movies and Broadway since being home and here’s my reviews:
District 9: Fantastic! Can’t wait for the sequel that Peter Jackson does so well.
Julie and Julia: Is there any role Meryl can’t do??? A goddess, a legend, brilliant actress!!! The Julie part of the movie was rather blah but it did inspire that mushroom omelette I had this morning.
The September Issue: Great documentary on Vogue, Anna Wintour, and best of all Grace—the creative director of Vogue. New found respect for the Prada-wearing devil, and the fashion world in general, from me. Made me want to watch “The Devil Wears Prada” for the 500th time.
Bye Bye Birdie: still in previews on Broadway, starring Gina Gershon and John Stamos, but was I back at Point Loma High watching a Zeiger musical?? Sure felt like a high school production. They better work on it before opening night. Bill Irwin stole the show though. Is there anything good left on Broadway or have we descended into schlock for the throngs of teenagers who don’t know better and women with those colourful knitted sweaters and bad hair?

So on the home front here’s what’s going on. We have boycotted going over to Eddie’s since last Friday. In a drunken tirade he told Pete and I what lousy friends we are and then rambled on to the others at how cheap I was. At that moment, I got up and left the party. I have more important things to do with my time than sit around and be put down by some miserable, self-hating drunk. It tapped in to some of those bad memories of my alcoholic father, memories I don’t desire to revisit at all. Let him stew in his misery alone. I did go over twice (when he was sober) this week to say hi and see the progress on his demolition of the living room. He probably didn’t remember what he said to us, but to date hasn’t apologized. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm with going over to see him will make him see the errors of his ways. Probably not.
It fascinates me that in New York City, the center of the Universe, there are so many miserable people. Tap into these old neighborhood people and you get so many layers of negativity, unfulfilled lives, cynicism, and unhappiness. Neighbors live all their lives next to each other holding grudges and always fighting back and forth. Well that’s Eddie’s world but the block is changing. Thank God for neighbors like Pete!

Now that my 45th year is upon me, it’s time to get busy. Who knows how it will unfold but I do know two things: I’m going to start getting my body in shape and attempt to find a boyfriend. The exercising part is crucial since I’ve gained weight and my cholesterol ain’t great last time I visited the doctor. I’ve already begun working on the health part by biking every morning in the park—a good 3mile ride around the Prospect Park loop. With my new job at Brooklyn College, I will soon have access to their fabulous new gym and really get going. As for the romance, there’s a few guys I have my eyes on and my eyes remain open and looking. The only point though is there aren’t a lot of gay men in NYC that make me go WOW! But I don’t rule anyone out at first glance. Maybe it’s time to seek someone younger than me. Instead of a new car, get a twenty-something boyfriend. Ah we’ll see.

Toronto. Why Toronto? Well it’s sort of a secret mission that I don’t want to divulge too much about but all I can say it has something to do with my Afghan kids from years past who have fled up there. I want to make a movie about them so I’m going up to find a story. With video camera in tow, I hope to do some filming of the students while I’m there for a few days. I want to hear their stories: why they fled, how their lives are, what are they doing, did they make the right choices, etc. I don’t know who will want to work with me but I do hope a few will step forward to tell their stories. I know I can’t get it all in one weekend but this may be the beginning of many trips to Toronto in what could turn out to be a fascinating journey.

Summer Epilogue

What day is it? Where am I? Can’t I just go home?? One quiet day in San Diego before boarding my plane home to New York tomorrow. Since last writing I’ve been from Delhi to Dubai to DC to LA by plane. From LA, I drove up to surprise my brother for his birthday in the Eastern Sierras (Mammoth to be exact) and yesterday drove all the way down to San Diego, where I now sit in a Peet’s Coffee doing what I like to do most—write, email, etc. on my computer in a café. Call me old fashion.
Spending time with my family is always a fun time. No drama, lots of laughs and good food, kids running around—the way it should be. I feel sorry for people who don’t like spending time with their families. With us, it’s like we don’t want to leave each other at the end of the trip. So bully for us Toomeys.
It was quite a contrast going from India to the 10,000 ft heights of the Sierras in California. It took me a few days to get accustomed to the switch from in charge of 10 Afghans to being one among the family clan. I showed my family the camp slide show so they had a visual to put with the descriptions what I told them. Somehow not all of them get what I do every summer so maybe the slide show helped. Now maybe I can get them to remember where the countries are that I go to—is that asking too much?
Camping out for 2 nights was fantastic. I can do the rustic outdoor thing just fine. Eating at the Whoa Nellie Deli (my brother’s restaurant) on Sunday night was a great reward for 2 nights in the woods. I relished the pork tenderloin and wolfed it down. After two months of no pork, it was heaven!
Now all I want to do is get on a plane and go home...

The Taj Mahal Experience

Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls!! May I present to you the Taj Mahal Exploitation (uh Experience)!!
After mentioning it so much, we finally made it to THE one thing everyone has to see in India (and I think something on a list of things you need to see before you die)—The Taj Mahal. The 3 hour drive down took about 5 hours due to traffic and getting a speeding ticket but we made it down to the #1 tourist attraction in the country. Like any major tourist attraction, it is structured so you’re exploited in so many ways that by the time you reach said attraction, you in no mood to see it. From the souvenir hawkers to the aggressive rickshaw drivers to the over-inflated foreigner priced entry fee—it’s a lot of work to get into the place. One cannot just buy a ticket and stroll into the Taj Mahal. Park a kilometer away, then take said electro-rickshaw to the ticket booth, buy tickets and get your complimentary bottle of water (makes you feel better about paying $5 compare to the $.40 Indians pay), get back in rickshaw and zoom up to the road block, walk past souvenir shops with hawkers trying to lure you inside, finally there is the gate where you go through security and are almost free to see the Taj. But there’s one more hurdle—the professional photographers who will take your picture with the Taj in glossy 8x10. I actually love these so that’s the one thing I insist on. Santosh has hired a guide (UGH!) who goes almost ignored by the kids because all they want to do is take pictures of each other. I have to stop them now and then to listen to the guide.
Despite all the hurdles and annoyances that come with most tourist traps around the world, it still is a great experience to be at the Taj Mahal. Seeing it through the gateway is breathtaking. It appears as a tiny little building but grows in size as you walk through the gate into the grounds. There it is in all its glory, glistening white in the sunshine. People grapple for the best spots to take pictures, the professional photographer lines us up to get a nice group shot of the Terrific Ten and their Kaka Toomey with the Taj. By the time we finish our tour, he will have 12 8x10 glossies awaiting us—my gift to the Terrific Ten. Our guide Ravi gives us the historical low down of the Taj (a lot of this we already know since it was an on-line assignment from yours truly). There is a mosque on the grounds so the boys go off and pray while Ravi takes me and the girls inside the tomb. Visiting the Taj Mahal isn’t so much about seeing everything, it’s more about just being there. Sititng on a park bench in the shade looking at the giant, white monument to love, walking the length of the fountain which is perfectly aligned with the gate and the tomb itself. One doesn’t need to spend all day here but you can. It’s a very peaceful place to be. After thousands of pictures taken, we make our way out to get, our 8x10’s waiting and the souvenir shop owners drooling as we make our way to the exit and into their clutches. No sooner are we out of the gates than we are bombarded with Taj Mahal books, postcards, keychains, t-shirts. Ravi takes us to his friends amrble shop where we see the artisans making inlaid marble table tops and what not. The same technique of inlaying white marble with lapis lazuli, jasper, malachite, etc. that was used in the Taj Mahal. Of course there is the showroom with all sorts of things for sale (another part of the tourist exploitation). All of it is way too expensive for the kids so we make our way out onto the street of cheap souvenir shops. I guide the kids in what to buy their host families (no glittery snow globes with the Taj please!) while simultaneously trying toswat away the boys shoving crap in my face to buy. It’s such a desparate business and part of me feels sad but it’s late and I haven’t had lunch so I’m a bit cranky. I’m also cranky because I am the tall, white guy and ergo I must have the most money. I think I do have more than the kids but I’m not in the mood to spend it all there. I do manage to plop a chunk of rupees down at one place to finish my souvenir shopping, then sit in a little café drinking water while the kids shop. Still I’m hassled and actually wind up buying two pairs of sandals from a show seller next door. When it’s time to go, I walk straight to our electro-rickshaw, ignoring all the stuff shoved in my face and the desparate pleas and prices going lower and lower. There’s one more souvenir shoving match as we get on our bus to go home. We manage to get out of that one fast and before you know it, we are saying “Goodbye Taj Mahal!” and on our way.
We decide to take a break from Indian food and stop at the McDonald’s down the street for a late lunch. It’s connected to a mall which the kids wanted to explore in great detail but I nixed that. We downed our Chicken Maharajahs (the Indian version of the Big Mac) combo meals and zoomed back to Delhi in record time. NOW we are ready to say farewell to India and head to America. Today is the big day. I can’t believe I’m finally leaving India. It’s been a great time but it’s time to go home.

Closing Up Shop

Don’t tell my mother that I’ve been riding on the back of a motorcycle without a helmet in India. Oops! I forgot she reads my blog. Zooming down the road into Hoshiarpur on the back of Ramjit’s Bullet motorcycle, I feel all the weight of this program off my shoulders. Cars, buses, trucks, bicycles, cows and other motorcycles whiz by us as Ramjit navigates his motorcycle down the streets of Hoshiarpur, honking most of the way. People glance and stare at us as we make our way down the bustling streets. Finally after a month of planning other people’s schedules and escorting kids around, I get to be free and alone from all of this. Plus I really haven’t seen much of the town so it was nice just to bike around, holding on to Ramjit’s big shoulders as we bounced along. I needed to get some souvenirs for people back home and wound up with some pretty fabulous bracelets and bangles for the ladies in my life (Yes Mom you’re getting bracelets). Who knows what the guys get, guess they’ll have to wait til I get to the Taj Mahal.
Ramjit is one of the hot and sexy staff members here. A body builder and champion Bangarah player (that’s a type of drum) he has been taking care of us since day one. He’s a sweetheart of a guy and is always there to assist whether it be taking me souvenir shopping or pouring gin and tonics. The kids love him too and call him Brother Ramjit. We’ll miss him when we go.
So as we barreled down the Dasuya Road into town, wind in my hair, whizzing past the small village before getting into town, I’m taking pictures mid-ride of Ramjit and I. Holding the camera out at arms length, I snap away, telling Ramjit to smile as he keeps an eye out for oncoming traffic. He wants to stop but I tell him no, the fun is in the picture while driving—makes for a more interesting picture. I finally get the shot I want and show it to Ramjit at one of the few stops we make. He approves. We wind our way into town past all the traffic into the narrow streets of Kashmir market. I’m a quick shopper so don’t need to walk around eternally. One-stop shopping for moi. We wind up in a bangle store which is also a drug store so I can find everything I need from bangles, to batteries, disposable razors for the boys and some aloe vera gel for my newly burnt leg, I accidentally tapped it on the extremely hot muffler (or silencer in the local tongue). The store is owned but the uncle of a man I met in the Jain temple a week before. He comes over to say hello and offer me a cup of tea. I decline for I want to save my afternoon caffeine buzz for Café Coffee Day, the new coffee house which opened up a few weeks ago that has been eluding me for weeks. How I wanted to have Ramjit drop me off there for an hour so I could just relax, alone, in a café. But no, everything is a production here, so I wound up going with Mr. Gil and Mr. Santosh (my assistant) chauffered in the Land Cruiser. Mr. Gil, an avid photographer, takes a few shots of me drinking my cappuccino and posing with the sign outside. A girl coming in recognizes us, she’s a Woodlander celebrating her birthday with her family at Café Coffee Day. They all come over to say their Namastes to us. She and her brother stare in awe at us, that look of disbelief that students give their teachers when they see them outside of school (yes we do have lives and we don’t live at school). Despite all the production, the coffee was great. A nice reminder that life was slowly returning to normal. Soon I won’t have any Afghans to worry about, they will be someone else’s worry in the US. It’ll be sad to leave them but all good things must come to an end. A door closes and a window opens somewhere. Until then, we’ll enjoy our few days left together.

On the Road to Somewhere

The Waiting Game

It has been over a week now that we, the Terrific Ten and I, have been playing the waiting game at Woodlands. There’s always a catch to this program. It never ends or starts on time, I wind up running it in two different countries, visas aren’t ready, bureaucracy---it’s always something. This year it’s because we can’t find placements for these kids. The State Dept. (who runs this program) makes us place them in school first. Many schools have early deadlines for accepting exchange students (May/June). In May/June we usually don’t have US visas for many of the kids. So you can see where my problem lies. I keep delaying my departure for the US because the more time I spend with my 10 Afghans, the less I want to leave them here all alone. Eventhough I have a family vacation to get to, three cats and a house to give attention to, and a mourning neighbor to help grieve, I must stay with my kids.
Kaka Toomey is what they call me. Kaka means uncle in Dari. They see me as their uncle, who will take care of them, not abandon them to strangers here in India. I won’t leave them until they get through customs in the US. Plus I promised them the Taj Mahal—our last thing we need to do here in India before we leave. That’s all next week, yes exactly two weeks from when the others left. My dedication to the program has paid off—I got upgraded on the long leg of the flight to the US and a ticket ot the west coast out of it, saving my colleagues in DC time and money having to send someone over here to escort them to the US. Nope, we are a family us 11 and we’re sticking together until Dulles.
So what do you do with a bunch of Afghans for two weeks? You make them study and write and read and keep on studying until they beg for mercy. Ramadan started today so now they are begging for mercy since they declare they have no energy during the day to study. I’m not falling for that one. Tomorrow I’m giving them an easy day since we’re leaving on Monday. We were talking about Ramadan today in class (they had to write a persuasive essay why fasting is good for you) and they had some interesting thoughts on it. So interesting that I may just fast with them tomorrow to experience it.
Besides studying, we took a few excursions outside of Woodlands in the area. Last weekend we went to Science City and Wonderland. Science City has a planetarium, science exhibits, a dinosaur park and oodles of fun stuff to see. First time for any of them to see such things and they had a ball. They especially liked the IMAX movie and the flight simulator. After Science City, we went to Wonderland, an amusement park not too far from SC. There we had a blast, riding all the rides, getting queasy on the spinning rides, laughing in the lame haunted house, getting wet on the water slide. It was so nice to see these teenagers be kids and have fun. I think of where they are from and what they have been through and so happy to see beaming smiles on their faces, all of them laughing to their hearts delight. Their Kaka is pleased.
Now the end is in sight, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter. Early Monday morning we are out of here, on the road again to Delhi. Stopping over there and then heading to Agra on Tuesday and finally on Wednesday blasting off to the US. For this week I thought that I’d be stuck here forever, but that is not to be. As much as I’ve enjoyed being in India, it’s time for a change of scene.

A Religious Experience

Happy Lord Krishna’s Birthday and Happy Independence Day. India is a country so full of festivals and celebrations that it’s amazing anything gets done here. This year Krishna’s birthday falls on 14 August, one day before Independence Day so the town of Hoshiarpur is rocking. The temples are all lit up, blaring music from giant speakers, tableaux set up depicting scenes from Krishna’s life and thousands of people coming to pay their respects. Quite the show.
Our afternoon was a rather spiritual one yesterday. My Terrific Ten, as I call them, and I went to meet a guru of the Jain faith. Jainism is one of India’s 360+ ancient religions. Their core beliefs are non-violence in any form (yes that means no killing of ants and flies), truth, non-stealing, non-possession and celibacy. They are strictly vegetarian. They also wear all white 100% cotton toga-like outfits and cover their mouths with a white cloth so as not to breathe in any bacterias or microbes. Their symbol is the swastika, much maligned by Hitler, and it was a little jarring to see it all over their temple. The coloured mirror tile they used for it made the swastika more a reflection of ancient Indian religion than 20th century dictatorship. There was a visiting guru who came to speak to us. He sat on a raised platform and we on the floor trying to understand his words through his mouth mask. Flies buzzed around my feet and it took all control not to kill them in front of the guru. The kids listened attentively and asked great questions (I was so proud). Afterwards we were invited downstairs to the dining hall for a free afternoon tea. We were served a cool drink of cumin water and some nibbly vegan things. The kids hated the tea but I loved it. Sounds gross, but I must protest—it hit the spot. They have a rule that you must eat everything on your plate (did they grow up in my mother’s house?) which was a challenge for us. The bigger challenge was fighting off the servers who kept throwing stuff on our plate. Indian hospitality can be deadly, let me tell you! One of my more creative students stashed the food in his pocket and trashed it later—gotta love it.
Post Jain temple, we stopped by the one mosque in town for evening prayer. I was warned that the imam here is rather ornery and fortunately he wasn’t there, so the kids could pray in peace. After two religious experiences, we needed to worship the modern God of consumerism and went shopping at a local mall. Give the kids an opportunity to shap and they’ll be there forever. Hey, what do I care? It’s a weekend and let them have their fun.
We saved the best for last—visiting the Hindu temples around town. All decorated up like Christmas trees, the temples were jam packed with believers coming to pay their repsects to Lord Krishna on his birthday. They had manger-like tableaux set up depicting Krishna as a baby and throughout his life. Instead of a crèche, little blue Krishna sits in a cradle which you can gently rock back and forth with a long floral draped cord. It’s all rather fun, sort of like Christmas without the commercialism. People visiting, songs beng sung, free food, bell ringing and lights galore. One temple we went to had a giant Star of David (just a star to them) and a swirling swastika aglow next to it. What do symbols mean anyway? In the US you would never see this but here it’s all part of the celebration. Indians have celebrations almost everyday and they relish in them. What brings them the most joy is sharing them with others as was shown by a man at one of the temples. He grabbed my arm and wanted us to come eat dinner with him at the temple. We had dinner plans but he insisted with such force my arm was almost pulled from my arm socket. Such enthusiasm can be a bit overbearing but appreciated.
After all these religious experiences, we made our way home in our minibus in the dark. We had a homemade dinner of bolani-Afghan pies stuffed with potatoes. It was a family affair, the girls rolling out the dough, boys frying up the bolani and French fries, others making doh a delicious yoghurt drink with cucumbers. All of us together and having a fun time in the middle of the night.