tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-231402342024-03-13T12:11:58.507-04:00The Life of 2METhe musings of a Brooklyn, NY based educator/artist and world traveler. Catch the latest from such exotic places as Afghanistan, Ethiopia, Senegal, India and other places on this planet.
Follow his activities through pictures and interesting and insightful posts. Sit down and read it, you might learn something!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-86974867267218725982017-01-20T07:58:00.002-05:002017-01-20T07:58:56.904-05:00The Day America Died<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Day America Died<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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January 20<sup>th</sup>, 2017 will be a day I will remember
as the day my country died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A day when
we traded all that we cherish and hold sacred for the ugly, ignorant, and
vulgar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today is the day when the Orange
Man begins his four years of tyranny and we the people, and the rest of the
world suffer as he denigrates the greatest country on earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may seem that I’m bitter about the outcome
of the election, a sore loser if you may, but I’m not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m angry that America chose such a poor
leader, and that our prestige in the world has dropped so low.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Orange Man will not make this country great again (for
the record it already is great).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You cannot
put hope in a narcissist to inspire his people or lead them in any great
capacity. I had hoped earlier for a silver lining, but now I’m convinced there
will be no silver lining. We will be mired in ineffective leadership for the
next four years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, what’s left to do? Fight. Fight to keep what shred of
decency is left in our government from letting us fold into tyranny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep the government on their toes and in line
with what we the people, all of us, want, and take on the smugness of those
that think because they have the majority that they can do what they want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a wake-up call for all Americans to
make sure our government remains our government and we hold accountable those
who we trust to make the laws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Complacency is not an option.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ignorance is not a value to be upheld. There is a thin line between
democracy and dictatorship and we’ve finally reached that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will not go to the dark side; we must keep
our balance toward enlightenment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was in Senegal during the presidential elections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the results were final, everyone was in
shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The saddest thing a Senegalese
said to me was, “Now you’re just like us.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It hurt to hear that because I know what he meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the entire world America is the beacon of
hope that everyone looks toward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We show
the way for so many, and represent a decency that all aspire to. In America,
you can be who you want to be without being beholden to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can dream big, and with hard work and
determination, live big too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sad
part is that many Americans are so fearful and ignorant of the world that they
don’t see how we are perceived in the rest of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was our greatness—that we as a country
can inspire others to dream big and have the confidence to make changes in
their lives despite the odds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not
anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are just like the rest of
the world now to many. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The title of this posting is “The Day America Died,” and I
know this is a temporary death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
values that make us great need to be in the forefront to drown out the
bombastic crassness of the Orange Man and his flunkies, and to remind Congress of
their duty to represent all Americans and fight for what we know is right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Senators will know my name, my voice will
be heard, and ignorance will be taken on, not just brushed aside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I spend most of my time outside the U.S.,
I will continue to show others the great side of our country and even though we
are going down a rabbit hole for four years, the values we cherish are still
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will continue to inspire my
students to dream big and to teach them that anything is possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
We will get through this I know. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From this death will come new life and we’ll
be greater as always, not again.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-20276537957357959172017-01-18T09:39:00.002-05:002017-01-20T08:08:26.918-05:00Father's Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; text-align: left; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kurd7RAPBaI/WH995lPdNzI/AAAAAAAAEIk/Usha_Nl47G8lmviaE9fo4gk-WW9qPaKhgCLcB/s1600/15895850_10157950172620580_485959326852363290_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kurd7RAPBaI/WH995lPdNzI/AAAAAAAAEIk/Usha_Nl47G8lmviaE9fo4gk-WW9qPaKhgCLcB/s200/15895850_10157950172620580_485959326852363290_o.jpg" title="" width="200" /></a></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Father’s
Day</span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">Yesterday would have been my father’s 90</span><sup style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">th</sup><span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">
birthday, today my parents 57</span><sup style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">th</sup><span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;"> wedding anniversary, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">and tomorrow 17
years since he died.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">Three major life
events in three consecutive days in January.</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">Quite the coincidence and convenient for us living to remember and
celebrate the life of someone who </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">gave me life. Each year during this time I
wear his King’s Point class ring that he devotedly wore until</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">his last day, and
commemorate his memory by having a nice steak dinner, something he always
enjoyed </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; text-indent: -12pt;">and that I treated him to each year as an adult.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<o:p></o:p>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-left: -9.6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -12.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father was not the ideal father; no
parent ever is really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have
expectations for how they should be based on some grand ideals we see portrayed
on television or comparing them to other parents, but parents never quite live
up to that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inherently they do love and
care for their children, it’s instinctual, but for children it’s not always
enough in some ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father was a workaholic,
spending most of my childhood at Rosecrans Realty, selling houses all over San
Diego.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was an alcoholic, which put
much strain on my parents’ marriage and gave our home a sense of
unpredictability and looming fear at what would be when dad would come home
drunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t an easy childhood and I
was thankful when my mother decided to get a divorce, something to this day she
has pangs of regret about, but as I tell her, was the best thing she could have
done for herself and her family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-left: -9.6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -12.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For many years, I didn’t like my
father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never wanted to spend time
with him yet he insisted on continuing to be our father, taking us out to
dinners, spending holidays with us, going fishing, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of these events led to him getting drunk
and leaving his sons to feel ashamed or in a dangerous situation when they were
far away and he was the driver of the car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All of these things experienced as a child stay with you and you carry
them around into adulthood. The anger, disappointment and shame I felt toward
my dad was inside me until my early twenties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I came into adulthood and came to know who I was, I realized it was
time to make sense of my past, my feelings toward both my parents. When I
compared my upbringing with other people’s, I concluded that I did not have the
terrible childhood I imagined, that there were others out there who had it bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father, despite his flaws, always provided
for his family, we always had a roof over our heads, clothing and food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was thanks to him that he opened my eyes
to the world and instill in me the sense of adventure when he took me to Europe
for three weeks when I was 14.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when
I was 23 or 24, I forgave him and my mother for our less than perfect
upbringing, and I thanked them for all they had done for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This may sound trite, but it helped me make
peace with the past and move on in life, as well as learn to love my father and
have a relationship with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not many
children can do that, hanging on to anger and disappointment and manifesting it
into their own lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lucky to be
able to let it go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father and I never saw eye to eye on
many issues: me being gay, politics, race, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was not an easy person to deal with, but I had the courage to
confront his opinions and hold my own in our continued debates in the times we
had together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had his rigid, conservative
opinions, but he was open to seeing other ideas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved people and was always cordial and
friendly with everyone. He could talk to anyone and did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t like that I was gay, and never acknowledged
that part of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being gay is just one
aspect of who I am, and he chose to look past that and focus on the other
aspects of me that he could take pride in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That said, he never disrespected any of my gay friends and always
enjoyed meeting them and talking with them at great length.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parents never like to envision their children
as sexual beings so they aren’t comfortable always addressing the issue of
their children’s sexuality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When their
child is gay, it makes it more uncomfortable for them to deal with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That doesn’t mean I hid from him who I was,
we just found other things to talk about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TxhQD-hPKds/WH99555fzMI/AAAAAAAAEIo/foD3P8HRMigBXBKzFz2E2WvrbbUyV7kZgCLcB/s1600/15965500_10157980726355580_6997470249608329418_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TxhQD-hPKds/WH99555fzMI/AAAAAAAAEIo/foD3P8HRMigBXBKzFz2E2WvrbbUyV7kZgCLcB/s200/15965500_10157980726355580_6997470249608329418_n.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I woke up this morning wanting to write
about my father as I looked at his class ring on my finger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a little tight, it’s bulky, but I wear
it for these three days to remember the person who was partially responsible
for me being here. My last words to my father, on his 73<sup>rd</sup> birthday
in the hospital were, “Dad, you’re a pain in the ass but I love you very
much.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked at me and with his
vivid blue eyes and told me he loved me very much too, and I knew that he truly
meant it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was enough for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, despite all the shortcomings and
dashed expectations, I was loved by my father, and that’s all that we need to
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was nothing more to say,
feel or do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I left the hospital, got on
my plane the following day back to New York, at peace with my dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Early the next day, as I was going to work,
he had a heart attack and died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
sad of course that my father was no longer, but at peace knowing that I was
loved by him, and that’s all that mattered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Happy Birthday Bernie Toomey, wherever you may be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-8772646205773341652017-01-07T05:41:00.000-05:002017-01-07T05:41:56.224-05:00New Year, New Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There’s a certain joy in waking up early. No sounds except
the words in your head clamoring to get out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It has been awhile since I blogged, or written for that matter, and 2017
is the year I take it up again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Writing
is like the tides that ebb and flow, and it seems now that the words are
swelling up inside of me and ready to leap on the page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knows what I will accomplish as a writer
this year—the main thing is that I am writing after a long dry spell.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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With a new year come promises to making ourselves better and
accomplishing more in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
2017 I have made some resolutions, four to be exact, and here they are in no specific
order:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
1) Find a boyfriend/husband;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2) Continue a healthy regime, add more cardio and muscle
building;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
3) Limit my time on social media, make posts and pictures
more succinct;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
4) Get my book I finished three years ago published<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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I could add one or two more, but four is a manageable
number.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being politically involved and
keeping our politicians in check is too important to be a resolution and is
part of my civic duty to keep the shenanigans of the Orange Man and his posse from
destroying this country. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is something
we all should be involved in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Finding a mate is something I’ve never prioritized, but I
feel it’s time that I share my life with someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We aren’t getting any younger and this year I’m
open to the idea of settling down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
ideal man is Indian, so that’s what I’m manifesting. This year I’ll be spending
a few months in India so this goal has some potential of working out. I’m open
to men from other backgrounds too, as long as he’s stable (emotionally and
financially, independent, and open). Let the hunt begin!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I consider the three important H’s in life are: Health,
House, Husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got the house (two
actually) so in 2017 we’ll focus on the other two H’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More yoga, more healthy eating, toning this
body of mine, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A standard resolution
many of us have, so you know what I’m talking about.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Social media is a bit out of control in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why I would say it dominates a large portion
of our days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel the need to
minimalize my time on Facebook and the rest, and limit pictures and posts about
the mundane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I do lead a very
interesting life compared to many people online, I feel like taking a step back
and making posts more succinct. Can I get through 2017 without posting a food
photo? No that’s a challenge.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I wrote the book about my work with Afghans, some of which I
may post here on my blog, but it needs an edit job and then get published.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most likely I’ll self-publish initially, but
hopefully it’ll take off and be picked up by a publisher down the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t write to be famous authors, we write
because we have stories to share.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
time for me to share this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
2017 will start in the U.S. on a murky note with the
inauguration of most likely the worst president of our lifetimes and plunge
this country, and the world, into four years of horrible leadership.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve tried to see the silver linings in all
of this but as we approach January 20<sup>th</sup>, there’s no way of seeing
anything optimistic about a Trump presidency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Leadership is something I teach to young people all over the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We look at qualities of effective and
ineffective leaders, and search inside ourselves to find our leadership
qualities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the next four years we
have to live with poor leadership in the White House and in Congress, and I
will hold the people who represent me in government accountable to ensuring
checks and balances continue to work, and the Orange Man is kept in his corner
where he can do little harm (well as minimal as possible).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I have spent most of my life overseas and I have come to
understand why America is a great country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It isn’t that chest-beating, ignorant great that stupid white people
declare it to be, it is still the land of the free, where you can come and be
who you want and do whatever you wish (within constraints of the law of course)
and fulfill those dreams of yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
rest of the world looks to America as a beacon of hope, a higher ideal to
strive for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the elections in November,
people in Senegal told me that now America is just like the rest of the world.
That was a sad comment, but true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can
still be great and we will continue to be great, but we need to fight for that
greatness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going to fight the
ignorance and fear held by many Americans, the intolerance and unfounded hatred
of diversity, and educate people and encourage them to keep their minds
open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So, that’s it for my first posting for 2017. There’s more to
come, maybe not every day but now on a regular basis. I leave you with a New
Year’s poem by W.S. Merwin.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #505050; letter-spacing: .3pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; padding: 0in; text-transform: uppercase;">BY <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/w-s-merwin"><span style="color: #045482; font-size: 9.0pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">W.
S. MERWIN</span></a></span><span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With what stillness at last<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">you appear in the valley<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">your first sunlight reaching down<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">high leaves that do not stir<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">to the hush of the morning<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">so this is the sound of you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">here and now whether or not<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">anyone hears it this is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">our knowledge such as it is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and our hopes such as they are<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">invisible before us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; text-align: center; text-indent: -12pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: #404040; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">untouched and still possible<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-20412946168093283062013-09-10T22:26:00.001-04:002013-09-10T22:26:44.736-04:00The Afghan Chronicles, September 11, 2013 Day 7September 11, 2013 Day 7
Today is THAT day, you know the one I’m talking about—the day our world changed forever. I now it changed my world forever and the events of 9/11 is why I am here in Kabul this morning drinking tea and watching the sun rise over the city. 12 years ago at this time I was getting ready to go to my job at PS 42 on the Lower East Side. If you told me that 12 years later I would be working in Afghanistan, I probably wouldn’t believe it. But here I am, doing what I love.
On that sunny Tuesday in September I saw 2,000 people killed before my eyes in one of the most unbelievable events in my lifetime. We mourn those innocent people as we should, but what about the thousands of Afghans who have been victims of terrorism for years? This is not to say that those people who died on 9/11 don’t deserve attention but when we talk about victims of terrorism, at least in the Western world, we forget about the innocent Afghans who have been subjected to bombings from all sides really, who live in fear everyday of another act of terrorism. I don’t forget them because they are my Afghan children and their families.
Terrorism is a destructive force that seems to come from an irrational, narrow-minded and uneducated point of view. I am dedicated to fighting terrorism the only way I know—through education. As I watched the Twin Towers crumble before my eyes from a rooftop in Chinatown, I had a choice to make—to hate or to fight. I chose to fight, initially with a gun or airplane, but later when the emotions subsided, I chose education. For these past 12 years I’ve been educating Afghan students and opening up the world for them, giving them the critical thinking skills to make sense of the world around them and become free thinkers. Not only did 9/11 change America and our sense of safety and freedom, but also Afghanistan and its sense of tradition and adherence to ancient ways. 9/11 ripped the lid off of Afghanistan and exposed it to the world, bringing in all sorts of influences and ideas that may or may not have been so readily embraced by the local population. Yet it showed us one thing, Afghanistan needed to change and the youth of this country desparately needed educational opportunities. Education and rational thought are tools that I feel Afghans need to mold the future that they want. A more educated Afghanistan is the road for a successful future and that’s why I am here doing what I do. 2014 seems to be on everyone’s mind and something I talk about every day. Whatever does happen, Afghanistan will go on, and the hundreds of students I’ve helped educate and inspire will fight ot make their Watan the peaceful, productive country they all dream about.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-64905418552053506472013-09-08T22:14:00.002-04:002013-09-08T22:14:43.034-04:00The Afghan Chronicles, September 9th, 2013 Day 5September in Afghanistan Day 5
A quiet morning in Kabul, like Juma the streets are empty and you can hear singular sounds like a motorcycle going by, the spitting of the Parliament guards outside my window, a mourning dove giving her lone cry, the gentle tinkle of a bicycle bell as it sails around the corner of Park Street. Today is another holiday here in Afghanistan—the anniversary of Masoud’s assassination 12 years ago. Ahmad Masoud was the “Lion of the Panshir,” the head of the Northern Alliance that helped push out the Taliban after 9/11. His death seems like a prelude of what happened just two days later in New York. Where they connected? Who knows. In the west, his assassination overshadowed by the destruction of the World Trade Center, yet here in Afghanistan it is a solemn day of rememberance. There are fears that there will be some sort of attack today, so we will stay close to home. The fear causes anxious anticipation and every sharp noise brings a tremble. Who knows where or when it will happen, or if it will happen—we wait. Will it be near or far? Given that Parliament is right across the street, there is a good chance that it will be near. Still we cannot live all day in fear and must go about our business, with caution.
Within this trepidation and anticipation, life does go on. Reports need writing, work needs to be done, emails sent, the 6 little kittens need to be fed. I have grown quite attached to one of the kittens, the one they named Tom. He’s an orange tabby, the kind I pan to get when I next get a cat. After 5 days of spoiling them with canned cat food, he has warmed to me and curls around my leg and lets me pet him to no end. Oh the temptation is there to bring him back to New York with me, but traveling through four countries before that makes it kind of impossible. I’ll just love him while I’m here I guess. The other ones are still a bit skittish but I have managed to give a few a good petting that has elicited purrs.
Later today I’m going out to lunch with some former students, so we’ll see if that has to be cancelled. I hope not, being cooped up with just 4 walls to look at gets dull after awhile. I tell my students who come to see me that I now know what it feels to be an Afghan woman who is not allowed to leave her house. I suppose better to stay inside than to be at risk outside, and the risk is great from what they tell me. Going around during the day is OK but not at night. Just means I have more time to catch up on all the things on my to do list. One can see this as aggravation, I se eit as opportunity.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-66648200227916761612013-09-05T21:44:00.002-04:002013-09-05T21:45:25.527-04:00The Afghan Chronicles: September 6th, 2013 Day 2September in Afghanistan Day 2
I’ll take these opportunities when I’m still adjusting to the time difference and I wake up at 5 am to write. The sun is almost over the mountain that I can see from my bedroom window. The streets are quiet given the hour and will be quiet all day as it is Juma, Friday and a day of rest here in Afghanistan. Once I finish this entry I will go on to do some more writing, but not the type I truly enjoy—report writing. I put it off until the last moment. One part of my job I really don’t enjoy.
A few days before I left the US, I had a phone conversation with a former student of mine who came to the US for a 6-week entrepreneurship workshop and decided to stay. He got his credits form American University here in Kabul transferred to a university in the US. Last night I was chatitng with another former student who went for a workshop in Holland and instead claimed political asylum there. Anyone who gets a chance to leave Afghanistan is leaving. While it saddens me, I do not blame them. I try not to let these incidents waver my optimism that things will be better and the young people will make this country better, but sometimes I wonder. Will it get better? Is this a sinking ship? Will everything revert back to the way it was pre-9/11? Who knows. Everyone is panicking and dreading the worst but somehow I know it will all come out OK. It has to—the depressing story line we hear from this place must change. They always say hope dies last and I firmly believe that. So with that in mind, despite all the security concerns and bleak outlooks for Afghanistan, I remain optimistic about the future here. Probably more of my former students will get out and never come back, that is their choice, their path. Still many more will stay and make this place better. The Chinese say “May you live in interesting times.” These are definitely interesting times and I wonder how it will all turn out post-2014. Guess w’ll have to just wait and see.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-16221736255464098102013-09-04T22:04:00.000-04:002013-09-04T22:04:02.363-04:00The Afghanistan Chronicles: September 5th 2013, Day 1September in Afghanistan. Day 1
It has been a little over 6 months since I’ve been here and it’s good to be back. Despite the crumbling security situation and instability everywhere in the country that people are reporting, I needed to come. Coming in for a landing and seeing all the mountains warms my heart, makes me feel in a way that I am coming back to some place that is familiar and welcoming, not unsafe and dangerous. Coming out of the airport after getting my baggage, the warm Kabul air embraces me like an old friend. The shuttle bus driver tries to get me on his bus to drive me the small distance to where the throngs of people await family members, friends and colleagues but I prefer to walk past the old airport terminal and across the parking lots, as I usually do. I’m excited to be back and want to take these few minutes to walk alone taking in the mountains, the other passengers pushing their carts, the music coming out of some cars. I have no fear of this place for it has become like home with colleagues and students who await me like family once I get through the security gate.
Wadood, our driver, is there to great me with a big hug and a handshake. He’s looking very dapper in his new green parantumbar with a black pinstripe vest. I complement him in my broken Dari on his outfit and he thanks me. This man has seen so much in his life, from the Russians, the Taliban, and now the Americans, and still has his sense of humor intact. We make jokes in the car and laugh our way through the traffic jams that slow our way back to the office. He tells me of the 6 new kittens in the office. Apparently one of the cats that hangs around the office had kittens and now they have become part of the office, with everyone pitching in money to feed them. On our way, we stop at the Finest supermarket and I pick up some breakfast supplies and some Whiskas cat food for the kittens. Of course a trip to Finest with Wadood wouldn’t be complete without a Red Bull or two for him. He has two wives and always jokes with me that he needs two Red Bulls so he can please both of them when he goes home on Thursday. I come laden with chocolate I bought in Duty-Free for his children and family. He appreciates the gesture.
Eventhough I have traveled a long way here, stopping in Delhi for a night, I am not tired. It is good to see everyone at the office and sit on the takhta under the arbor of grapes, drinking tea and catching up on the latest news. As we sip our tea, the kittens run around the big divan in the yard, awaiting something to eat. I go up and get the can of cat food and put it out on a plate for them. Within minutes they are swarming the plate, devouring as much as they can as if it is a race to eat the most. First there are three, then four. The fifth one, the largest of all, comes running from the back at lightning speed and plops himself almost right smack in the middle of the food, gobbling as much as he can. The sixth one races after him and soon they are all happily having a splendid dinner, equally getting their fill. There are three orange cats and three white and greys. How I would love to take one of the orange ones home but somehow dragging a kitten through India, Switzerland, France and Germany doesn’t sound appealing at all. They are adorable though and while tempting, impossible.
Today I am up early with the meuzzin’s call to prayer, one of my favorite sounds here in Kabul. I have to interview potential candidates for my winter YSEL camp beginning at 9 so need to be ready to listen attentively to students all day. They’ve scheduled 26 for me, which is a lot, but somehow we’ll manage. I just hope I don’t start falling asleep!
I hope to be up early everyday and able to chronicle my days here in Afghanistan for the next three weeks. There may not be tons to report but I will try to give my readers something to enjoy.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-39758890598636021932013-08-09T06:37:00.000-04:002013-08-09T06:37:31.079-04:00 4 am in Brooklyn and there are people up. Not the people I see when I usually get up and begin my day around 7, but my neighbors on a different schedule. What I love about New York is no matter what time it is, there is always someone else awake and there’s always a store open where you can get what you need. This particular morning I needed milk to go with my morning tea, and cat food for Lulu. Some old man comes in for something, another guy stops in for a coffee, asking for Sweet n Low form the guy behind the ocunter who is busily texting on his phone, a car service driver pulls probably for his morning coffee as well. Even at this hour, despite the drops of rain, it is humid and probably will be all day.
I arrived from Ethiopia yesterday, doing my regular thing—cab from JFK to home, snuggle my cat and snuggle her some more. This time though I did not go out for a martini and Mexican food, but ordered Chinese take out and went to bed. I was tired! I was awaiting this day when I could just go to sleep and sleep for a long time, but it has been evading me this past week. Finally the opportunity came and I took it. I missed the martini, the Mexican food AND Shakespeare in the parking lot put on by my local bar but oh well—sleep was more important.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J-Vpg2DTF3M/UgTGN38Kg9I/AAAAAAAADto/F2oJYzY4D9Y/s1600/DSC06134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J-Vpg2DTF3M/UgTGN38Kg9I/AAAAAAAADto/F2oJYzY4D9Y/s200/DSC06134.JPG" /></a></div> This past month has been amazing. Youth Solidarity and English Language (YSEL) program for 44 Ethiopian students at a site in Debre Zeyit, a city just 1 hr south of Addis Ababa. I can now happily say I have 44 more children to add to my bevy of Afghans. In Afghanistan, they cal me “Kaka” which means uncle, in Ethiopia I let them call me “Papa.” It fits and I like the sound of it when they say it to me. My YSEL-Ethiopia kids are so special—in this past month they have blossomed into amazing young men and women who will do great things in their futures. This camp was the spark for them, a motivation to do great things in their lives and I hope they never lose that motivation. I want them to all achieve great things, especially by going to university. That is my dream and I hope they are inspired by the dream. I will continue to motivate and inspire them, for young people need that and don’t get enough of it. Seems to have become my mission in life.
Ethiopia, as I must have mentioned before, is a magical place. So earthy and green, lush and full of life. Like anywhere it is both wonderful and aggravating at the same time but I have embraced it all. No one culture is better than another, you just have to learn to adapt to different ways. Some of my Peace Corps teachers had a lot of complaints about Ethiopia as I’m sure anyone would, living in the small towns and villages like they do. Airing them is normal, but letting it get you angry is not healthy, plus it doesn’t make you any friends with the locals. I see the beauty in all places, the positive things, and don’t make a fuss about the negative things. When I was in Djibouti last March, I met a restaurant owner from Ocean Beach in San Diego. My mom ran in to him a few months ago and when she told me that she met up with him, she said, “You didn’t tell me Djibouti was such a bad place. **** said it was so dirty and horrible.” “It’s all in your perspective mom,” I replied. “Plus if I complained about it you would worry. Sure there were bad things about it but there were good things too. I like to focus on the positive.” That said, I’ll be singing Ethiopia’s praises for a long time.
Now I have a few days at home before I head off to the next project. Washington DC on Sunday for orientation for arriving students from different countries, who are beginning their year in the US. After that it’ll be a few weeks in Afghanistan recruiting for our winter YSEL programs. Somewhere between September and December I do need to finish my book. Hopefully in October or November. We’ll see. For now I’m going to enjoy these next few blissful days in my house with my cat.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-5594361345135084582013-08-09T05:40:00.002-04:002013-08-09T05:40:33.139-04:00Pre-camp thoughts...July 3rd, 2013 A soft summer rain falls here in Debre Zeyit, Ethiopia. The morning sounds have awoken me an hour earlier: the melodic chorus of birds, the staff going about their morning routine, and now most suddenly the pitter patter of rain. My window is open to allow the fresh morning air with all its earthy, African aromas to pour in my little room as the rain and the voices from across the way become amplified.
This will be my home for the next month, the Jerusalem Child and Community Development Organization (JeCCDO) training site in Debre Zeyit, where I will be running the Youth Solidarity and English Language (YSEL) program—a youth leadership initiative for Ethiopian youth. It’s a new project, inspired by the success of the YSEL program in Afghanistan. Tomorrow, our 44 selected students will arrive in Addis, and Friday morning we will head down to camp for a month of magical learning. The summer camp idea is new for Ethiopia and so is taking a group of 44 students from all over the country, representing the diverse cultures that make up Ethiopia, and putting them together to learn from each other. Some people have their doubts, but I know this will be a great month. It must be. I am the director of the camp and I won’t let it fail.
My staff is made up of Peace Corps Volunteer teachers, and 4 local youth who will be counselors. My trusty assistant Endalkachew is here to make sure everything runs smoothly. Kyle, my colleague from DC is also here to give support to the teachers and me. Slowly our team is coming together and vy the end of today/tomorrow we will be one happy family (and stay a happy family).
This is my fifth time in Ethiopia; one time last April I came for a visit and see the sites, and the rest have been work trips. All building up to this YSEL camp, which commences on Friday. It is always a strange feeling to get to the start date of a camp, after so much planning and then realize it’s time to begin. I’m sure the next day or two will be crazy and for sure things will be nutty, but as I always say, it all works out in the end, and if it doesn’t work out, it’s not the end. So good luck to me and my staff as we begin this great adventure!
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-74002687713354143372013-02-07T23:53:00.000-05:002013-02-07T23:53:39.368-05:00Musings on a cold Juma morning in KabulA bright sunny morning in Kabul. It’s one of those winter days I love; clear, chilly, glistening snow everywhere, making the place so magical. The conference room I’m sititng in is cold, I could put some logs in the bukhari, the wood burning stove, but the sun beaming through the two large windows is enough warmth, plus I have my patou, a large brown wool wrap that keeps me sufficiently warm. It has been ages since I’ve written here, but today seems like a good time to sit down and write my thoughts instead of worry about work. It is Juma, Friday, and all of Kabul is quiet. The one day off in the week when people can sleep in, rest, and enjoy time with their families. The office is quiet, not students clamoring for my attention, no colleagues, just me and my thoughts. I’ve been running workshops for our alumni this past week and tomorrow I begin another week of workshops for another group. I focus on three: English teacher training, Essay Writing and Research, and Project Design. Important topics for these budding leaders. I am totally loving it and so are they. Since they have off from school until March, might as well keep them busy.
As I sit here looking out on my sunny day, my base, Brooklyn, is getting ready for a snow storm. It will be almost spring when I get back there—mid-March. I’ve been away so long. I enjoy my work but I do miss home, and I miss my cat Lulu, as I know she misses me. I’ve been made full-time with my job and who knows how much time I will be away from New York this year—quite a lot I believe. I’ll have to figure out something with my apartment and cat and garden when I get back. Hire a live-in super or something.
Afghanistan is still in the throes of insecurity and fear of a post-2014 world, but I see many signs of hope and normal life around Kabul. The first day I was here there was a bomb blast at the Kabul equivalent of the DMV. We have a running joke in the office, whenever I come to Kabul, they meet me with a big salute, because there always seems to be a bomb blast. Not very funny but that’s the humor of the people who live through this every day, and have lived through much more. The pace of Afghanistan is so different form everywhere else, almost outer world that when you get here you get sucked into it and your over-worked, driven American work ethic just floats away and suddenly deadlines and emails demanding immediate responses seem to not exist. Life here is so invasive that it’s difficult to get anything done in a reasonable amount of time. For example I had a proposal to look over and respond to the other day, but then one of my students’ father came to the office and invited me to dinner. Culturally, it is too rude to not receive the person, plus he is one of my favorite people here, so proposal got to sit on my desk for another day. It is a big plus and also a hindrance to advancing, but cultural values are important and need to be taken into account. This country will change, it will develop but at its own pace. The young people I work with will make that change, inshallah. I already see it little by little and as long as they have the courage and drive to do their part, this is going to be a fabulous place to be.
Ok need to go get ready for my day out. I’m not sitting in the office on such a glorious day. One of my former students has invited me to his social entrepreneurship class and to lunch with his family. Afterwhich I have more people to meet and places to go. Looking forward to getting out of my “prison” and enjoy a day off for a change.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-43411092534179714002013-02-07T23:51:00.003-05:002013-02-07T23:51:46.975-05:00December 15th--Another camp begins 5:15 a.m. Jet lag wakes me early and I embrace the few hours of quiet here in my bedroom. I am in a familiar room; one of the teacher’s rooms at the hostel of CT Public Schools in Jalandhar, Punjab, India. It is my fourth time spending one month in this room, and not much has changed. The big blue daisies on the sheet, the shiny gold foil pictures of the Golden Temple in Amritsar on the walls, the old, red refrigerator, the almiras with graffiti from students of years past. My clothes and personal items are placed in the usual places. The CT school students who live in this hostel are the same but maybe a little taller or fatter, more facial hair or wearing a different coloured uniform. In many ways, my life has become like an international version of “Groundhog Day”, the classic Bill Murray movie, given my travel to the same three ocuntries; India, Afghanistan and Ethiopia, but it never gets boring there is always something new to discover and enjoy. Mainly with a new group of students each time, there is no dull routine but an excitement at teaching and watching the changes in them from day one to the end of camp. This camp is going to be special, what with Christmas and New Years. Of course I will be missing the excitement of the holidays in New York and the chance to celebrate with my friends and family there, but there is something truly special about celebrating the holidays in a different place, with students for whom Christmas and New Years are foreign. It will be like discovering the holidays all over again.
I arrived three days ago, with two of my colleagues, burdened by 8 large suitcases of camp supplies, books, and lots of gifts, stockings, and decorations to make this holiday being spent in India a specal one. I’m excited and I think all my staff will be feeling the same. I’m trying to get ym assistant to don the Santa suit I bought at a 99 cent store in Brooklyn, but he is refusing. I still have some time to cajole and convince him. Besides being the holidays, this camp will be special for our students are lower level students and we have tweaked our curriculum to better suit their needs. I don’t know yet how it will all work out, but it will work out.
It has been a long while since I’ve blogged, mostly I seem to have gotten out of my rhythm of it, but I will try to get back into that rhythm and post maybe not on a daily basis but a few times a week. There are new discoveries to make as we teach a new group of students and help change the lives of a future generation of Afghanistan. I see the change and impact when I talk to my counselors, former campers, and they tell me how much their lives have changed because of the Youth Solidarity and English Language (YSEL) program. When I hear their stories, the routine of my international life doesn’t seem so routine, and I am thankful for having this opportunity to live my life this way.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-51893956076181361392012-10-15T23:09:00.001-04:002012-10-15T23:10:25.495-04:00Musings from a Hindu Temple
Waking up at 6:30 in the morning to climb a hill and watch the sunrise from a small <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Greetings from Mussoorie dear readers. Considered the “Queen of the Hills,” Mussoorie is one of the many hill stations that developed and flourished during the British times and nowadays is a mecca for vacationers wanting a break from the stifling, smoggy cities down below. I have come here for a week of R&R after a hectic month of my YSEL camp in the Punjab with 40 Afghans and a staff of 14 to manage. The camp was extremely successful, we had a great group of kids and my staff was super as usual. I always love to see the progress of our kids from when they arrive to when they leave. If I can get them to be open minded, use their critical<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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thinking skills, and have boys and girls work together successfully, then I am happy. And guess what? I am happy.
You may wonder why I haven’t blogged in so long, mainly because I have been traveling and had literally no time to sit down and jot a few lines. I did start an entry on September 10th, my 48th birthday, to note my feelings of the day, but it concided with the first day of my camp so there was little time to write. Getting 40 Afghans on my birthday was quite a lovely gift and reaffirmed all the important work that means so much to me. August was very busy with most of it spent in Washington DC <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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running orientation programs for arriving students on the YES program, beginning their one-year exchange in the US. At the end of August I was off to Afghanistan for a week to run a follow up workshop for my students from the last camp, and then on to India for YSEL4. That should bring us up to date. Seems the last month has gone by in a blur and flurry of activity as camp always does. Now I get a week’s reprieve before heading off to Ethiopia to start working on a new YSEL program for Ethiopia. After that I get 5 glorious days in Paris and Brussels with good old friends from my Russia days. Seeing each other after so many years will be stupendous, I can’t wait!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the highlights I’m looking forward to will be seeing Versailles. I’ve been to Paris numerous times and never did make it to Versailles. Finally I get to, and in autumn, which is the time I’ve always wanted to visit.
The solitude and serenity of the morning is gone with trucks roaring past my hotel, blaring horns, dogs barking and people talking as they make their way to school, work or wherever they may be going. In between the horns and engines, I can hear the gentle sound of the street sweepers branch broom as it sweeps the leaves and litter from the road. Quiet doesn’t last long here, but I embraced the small sliver of time I had it.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-10949372439263370702012-07-05T13:19:00.000-04:002012-07-05T13:19:04.184-04:00Charlevoix--my summer placeThe singing of a bird, the tick-tock of a clock, those are the only sounds I hear this Monday morning on Pine Point. Slept a heavy sleep eventhough I went to bed early last night. Instead of trying to get up at 6 a.m., the time set on my alarm clock, I shut it off and continued in my deep sleep until almost 9. Somehow after the weekend at a funeral for my aunt and quality time with my family, I just needed to sleep. Even Lulu my cat was out cold for all that time. Usually she is up early meowing in my face to be fed, but today, I had to wake her up for breakfast. I came up here to write my book, and I need to get on a routine. So far, one week into it, and I am not in my routine. It’s OK, family comes first and the death of a much beloved aunt must be marked with all the ceremony and pomp she deserved. My uncle and cousins lost a wonderful person in their lives and little by little they will come out of this, but for now we, their family, are here to provide them comfort and support through this difficult time.<br />
Family is important to me, and Charlevoix is a magnet for my family. It is where my aunts, uncles, and cousins all became family, where we learned what it means to be family—something we will never lose and something that keeps us bonded through life. There is something comforting about this summer place, where for generations we have come to spend time together and find refuge from the realities of the world for a bit of time. It’s a place to reenergize our batteries so to speak and reconnect, laugh, play Scrabble, swim, watch sunsets over Lake Michigan and just enjoy each other’s company.<br />
I am here on Pine Point, a quiet enclave a bit out of town to write a book about my Afghans for the entire month. Trying to write a book at my home in Brooklyn seemed implausible and I really needed a quiet place to focus on getting this book done. Initially I was going to go to Croatia, since I had a free place to write there, but that fell through. Charlevoix seemed a great second option. I always found Pine Point to be a perfect place to write and I hope to delve into a lot of writing while I am here. I’ve printed out the 80 pages I’ve written so far and now just need to sort through everything and make it into a book. It’s a process I know and I worry that I’ll get too distracted by family and other things to stay focused. I think though that I will accomplish a lot while I’m here. <br />
The squirrel in the tree off the deck is making his angry noise again. He does this when Luu is out by the tree and he feels threatened. He makes a chucking sound and flaps his tail, glaring down at her as she peacefully chews on the grass below. A white cat came up to the door to check things out, Lulu was asleep in the other room and missed out on hissing at her and chasing her away. The birds continue to sing and the clock goes “Tick, tock, Tick, tock.” Soon the loud siren will blow from downtown to denote the noon hour, a boat horn will blow and the ding ding ding will be heard as the drawbridge in town brings down its guards while the bridge opens to let boats out from Round Lake to Lake Michigan. The red lighthouse stands guard at the end of the channel on the Lake Michigan side. At night people will gather there or on the beaches to watch the sunset over this Great Lake. We will look for the green flash as the sun says “Good Night” to us and “Good Morning” to someone on the other side of the world.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-84666774387377687482012-06-20T08:06:00.000-04:002012-06-20T08:06:37.936-04:00The Road Trip in RetrospectThere’s something about the first cup of tea in the morning that is just heavenly. Just like there is writing in the morning when the world is quiet. The added bonus was that my sublettor <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QQPhIbXSjAs/T-G2AqfqfoI/AAAAAAAADow/ttxQub6Ilcg/s1600/DSC00072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QQPhIbXSjAs/T-G2AqfqfoI/AAAAAAAADow/ttxQub6Ilcg/s200/DSC00072.JPG" /></a>Sasha has already left for the day so I can be in peace with my tea and my blog. She has gone off to do yoga in Times Square and study all day at the NY Public Library for her upcoming CPA exam.<br />
I didn’t get to scribing much along the road trip, as you can see. Mainly because we were driving long days and so in the morning there wasn’t much time to sit down and write. Plus we had a mandatory road trip rule about exercising every morning and that came first. I can’t believe the trip is already over and I’m back in New York for a week before the next adventure <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KcZkyjYoAd0/T-G3QrSVwUI/AAAAAAAADo8/Cn0JyqE4F2c/s1600/DSC00106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KcZkyjYoAd0/T-G3QrSVwUI/AAAAAAAADo8/Cn0JyqE4F2c/s200/DSC00106.JPG" /></a>begins. I wont tell you about that now but will reveal it later on.<br />
At the last writing we were awaiting G’s brother’s arrival in Calgary, which happened late one Tuesday night. We spent another full day with him in Banff before heading on to Vancouver. I must tell you that the Canadian Rockies are absolutely gorgeous, much more so majestic than the <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2B9a0HbcUZs/T-G4EC0dcoI/AAAAAAAADpI/3MZ1ykleWd0/s1600/DSC00163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2B9a0HbcUZs/T-G4EC0dcoI/AAAAAAAADpI/3MZ1ykleWd0/s200/DSC00163.JPG" /></a>US side. After leaving Edmonton, G and I drove over to Jasper and down the Icefields Parkway to Banff. The weather was perfect and the scenery was just fantastic. The winter was one of the biggest on record and so there was still a lot of snow covering the lakes and closing many a campground. We “ooh-ed” and “aah-ed” at every turn as the scenery just got more amazing. We made Banff our home for 3 nights and it was so worth it. <br />
After three nights in Banff, we made our way up over the Rockies to Vancouver, the Canadian <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kBS49bVhpwA/T-G5eZZvQKI/AAAAAAAADpU/T0-H40wMQAM/s1600/DSC00224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kBS49bVhpwA/T-G5eZZvQKI/AAAAAAAADpU/T0-H40wMQAM/s200/DSC00224.jpg" /></a>gem on the Pacific Ocean. My friend Jon got us four nights free at a hotel downtown, which saved the budget and was a nice little reward for all the driving we had managed to do. Canada is a big country and it takes some time to traverse it. Ironically, after all that driving, I was not able to enjoy a weekend in Vancouver but merely one full day, for I had to attend a graduation in Baltimore on the weekend. So in true world traveler style, I hopped on a plane early Saturday morning to Baltimore and returned Sunday evening to continue the road trip. Most people would think I’m mad doing such a thing but hey what are frequent flyer miles good for if you don’t use them, right? More importantly this was a special graduation that I promised to be at, and a promise <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o0zFQh_j8Vw/T-G6cblS9II/AAAAAAAADpg/Q_s1iSsAuvE/s1600/DSC00284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o0zFQh_j8Vw/T-G6cblS9II/AAAAAAAADpg/Q_s1iSsAuvE/s200/DSC00284.JPG" /></a>is a promise. <br />
The graduation in question was a high school graduation for one of my Afghan students who has become like a daughter to me. I was her local coordinator in New York where she spent her exchange year in Queens and I helped get her this scholarship to this excellent all-girls high school two years ago. I promised her father in Kabul that I would watch out for her while she was in the U.S. and I felt I needed to be there for her as she walked onto the stage to take part in the graduation ceremonies. I’m glad I wore sunglasses that day for I had tears of joy streaming out of my eyes—so proud of my little girl. Next to me was an empty seat and I imagined how proud her father would be if he was sititng there and I felt his presence and could see the pride in his eyes too. It was a powerful event for me, for I was reminded of the long road that Afghan girls have, compared to boys, and the power of women as an entity. I came away from that graduation with new ideas for empowering my Afghan girls and a refreshed respect for the opposite sex. <br />
It was a nice break from the road trip, albeit a long way to travel, and by the time I got back to Vancouver, I missed G and our adventure and was ready to continue the trip. It also gave him some time to be with his brother since he is moving away to go to grad school in the fall. Monday morning, after a breakfast with Jon, we made our way down to Seattle tocomplete the loop back to Toronto on the US side. The border crossing was less annoying than the one in Michigan but still we were delayed as they made us wait. Homeland Security definitely needs some cultural sensitivity training and needs to relax a bit and not suspect everyone of something and interrogate as if the person is a criminal. Not a pleasant way to begin a trip into our country. <br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sjFIvdu9oq8/T-G8CZGExvI/AAAAAAAADps/V8ViaQQMo4c/s1600/DSC00290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sjFIvdu9oq8/T-G8CZGExvI/AAAAAAAADps/V8ViaQQMo4c/s200/DSC00290.JPG" /></a>Once we were free of the border, we made our way to Seattle for lunch with my dear friend Lisa. I haven’t seen her in about 7 years so it was great to catch up, eventhough it was just over lunch. She and I go way back to studying Russian together in San Francisco and living together in Russia for many years. She’s one of those friends that you pick up where you left off, no matter how many years have gone on in between. There are a handful of people like that in my life and I cherish them very much. After a delicious Vietnamese lunch with Lisa, G and I hit the road east towards Montana. Lightening and pouring rain marked our way as the road unfolded before us, giving G an experience of driving in crazy weather conditions. We made it as far as Missoula before calling <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DrlNyjFWUTw/T-G8sKS8sEI/AAAAAAAADp4/uQXsDgTzJTM/s1600/DSC00106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DrlNyjFWUTw/T-G8sKS8sEI/AAAAAAAADp4/uQXsDgTzJTM/s200/DSC00106.JPG" /></a> it a night at one of the fanciest Motel 6’s I’ve ever seen. Morning will come and we will be on our way again eastward toward the next destination, with sights to see and talks to have as the journey continues.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-37463603515720239522012-05-29T11:03:00.000-04:002012-05-29T11:03:12.784-04:00On the road across CanadaCruising on the Trans-Canadian highway in western Ontario on day three of a road trip across <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tZWvOsl2-Mc/T8TflBt4SaI/AAAAAAAADns/M8cbpc_CUSc/s1600/DSC00737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tZWvOsl2-Mc/T8TflBt4SaI/AAAAAAAADns/M8cbpc_CUSc/s200/DSC00737.JPG" /></a></div>Canada. My traveling companion is one of my former students who just graduated college up here. He and I always said we’d make this trip and now we both have the time so we’re doing it. It’s sort of like a father and son trip, since he has become over the years like a son to me. <br />
The trip started two days ago in Toronto and has taken us through Michigan, then up around Lake Superior. The drive around Lake Superior is so beautiful, with vast pine forests and small<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFYzJgj8HAQ/T8ThhQDDOQI/AAAAAAAADn4/vUxjhLiJxlk/s1600/DSC00742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFYzJgj8HAQ/T8ThhQDDOQI/AAAAAAAADn4/vUxjhLiJxlk/s200/DSC00742.JPG" /></a></div><br />
lakes poking out of the trees along the way. We get a glimpse of the big lake now and then as we wind our way around it. This is moose country and so far we haven’t seen any, which according to the locals is a good thing. <br />
Last night we stopped in Marathon, a small city along the route. We got in late and fortunately found a 24 hr restaurant that just happened to be attached to a hotel where we ate and crashed for the night. Rover’s restaurant is run by Mark who has moved in to town and stirred things up by adding a splash of color to the place, decorating the restaurant, giving it a cozy atmosphere and staying open 24 hrs. The locals have grumbled a bit he told us, but change is never easy and I’m sure they’ll come round to his way of thinking. <br />
G and I have one main rule for this road trip—exercise. This morning we got up as early as we could and started our jogging regime that will be part of our daily routine during this trip. We both need to shed some pounds, plus after sititng all day in a car, it’s good to get some exercise. I’m sure by the time we get to Vancouver we’ll be looking rather fine.<br />
Our first day of driving had us going from Toronto to Traverse City, where my uncle and aunt live. My Aunt Sharon is in her last stages of a long fight with cancer and I needed to stop by and see her and bring a smile to her face. Despite her condition, she is still rather spirited and upbeat although it is not easy for her to be positive all the time. This is really taking a toll on my uncle and cousins to lose someone they love so much. It is also very sad for my whole family to lose someone so wonderful. It’s a strange feeling to say goodbye to someone you love and know you probably won’t see them ever again. We didn’t want to cry but we did shed some tears, and hugged and kissed each other goodbye just a little bit longer. She was very excited about our road trip and always wanted to do it. I promised I’d send her postcards from along the way so she can live out the road trip through my postcards. This will give her and my uncle to look forward to in the mail everyday. Sharon also told me she was upset that she never got one of my TCat t-shirts. Well I just happened to have one in my bag that would fit her so I took it over to her. It came at a perfect time for she was having a bad morning, and the bright green shirt with a big blue cat on it brought her mood up and a giant smile to her face. I can’t make her better, I can’t cry in front of her, I can just bring some simple joy to take her away from her pain and suffering. This is what I do best in these situations.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qS066eXsbYw/T8TiTIgZNjI/AAAAAAAADoE/ECGTQ0qIEFo/s1600/DSC00731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qS066eXsbYw/T8TiTIgZNjI/AAAAAAAADoE/ECGTQ0qIEFo/s200/DSC00731.JPG" /></a></div> We slowly inch our way towards Thunder Bay, through the small towns and forests. G is getting his driving practice while I blog and look at the gorgeous scenery. It’ll be a great trip these<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CkFPDMtI93k/T8TkM2ATQpI/AAAAAAAADoQ/DfIxCzfNgqA/s1600/DSC00835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CkFPDMtI93k/T8TkM2ATQpI/AAAAAAAADoQ/DfIxCzfNgqA/s200/DSC00835.JPG" /></a></div>next two weeks, all the way to Vancouver and then back through the US. Our goal tonight is a Ho-Jo in Winnipeg, another 10 hours or so to go!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-76772543641075179692012-04-24T07:09:00.001-04:002012-04-24T07:09:36.243-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-35024858812903203372012-04-19T10:10:00.000-04:002012-04-19T10:10:26.213-04:00That's a Wrap Ethiopia!My final day in Ethiopia. It has been two weeks since I arrived here and have had a wonderful <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-juhrHAr036w/T5AcjMa6ETI/AAAAAAAADnU/97lOQuAtnq0/s1600/DSC00636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-juhrHAr036w/T5AcjMa6ETI/AAAAAAAADnU/97lOQuAtnq0/s200/DSC00636.JPG" /></a></div><br />
time. Now the winds have shifted and it is time for me to move on, back to New York, back to an unplanned reality. In these past 2 weeks, I have taken some time to reflect on my situation and what I plan to do. I’m pretty sure this opportunity has opened up as a sign for me to finish my book, and finish it I will. Since I have subletted my apartment starting in May, it is best that I find a quiet place somewhere in order to finish the story I have already begun to tell. That is what I shall do.<br />
Denis and Bob have been very gracious hosts and I’m so glad they allowed me to stay for this long in their big house. We already have plans to make a trip to Djibouti in October after my next camp. These past few days have been quite remarkable, visiting Aksum, Gonder, and Lalibela and they will stay with me forever, especially Easter in Lalibela. I can say I really enjoy Ethiopia, its people and places. There is something quite special about this country. It has a different feel from other African countries I’ve visited. Maybe becaue it is the only African contry that wasn’t affected heavily by European colonization, and it has its own unique history. In any case, it is a fabulous country that I will definitely visit again. Denis and I really want to take the train up to Djibouti next time and explore that tiny country that was cut out of Ethiopia. That should be a fun, if not long, trip.<br />
So tonight I head off to New York via Dubai and Frankfurt. Back to my other reality, back to <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9YrLK8KMWdM/T5AcuSWxA_I/AAAAAAAADng/xDOMsQtXqXY/s1600/DSC00635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9YrLK8KMWdM/T5AcuSWxA_I/AAAAAAAADng/xDOMsQtXqXY/s200/DSC00635.JPG" /></a></div>homeowner responsibility and cat owner as well. I miss Lulu and look forward to spending some QT with her before I head off again to wherever it may be that I am going. Already there is a list of things on my Brooklyn To Do list and it seems to keep growing. Gardening, redoing Liz’s bathroom, selling t-shirts, basement purging, finishing my mural outside my house, and so on. It’ll be nice to unpack, unwind, recharge and plan out the next phases of my life. There’s a travel list also being made but I won’t reveal that to you until tickets are booked and plans solidified. So you’ll just have to wait and find out.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-75564669563732017602012-04-19T10:01:00.000-04:002012-04-19T10:01:42.137-04:00In The Cradle of Ethiopian OrthodoxyLalibela is the heart of Ethiopian Orthodoxy. It lies up north sort of smack dab in the middle <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fCb_o2i5qnM/T5AU9GurXmI/AAAAAAAADjY/Hfu8sqnpsgE/s1600/DSC00503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fCb_o2i5qnM/T5AU9GurXmI/AAAAAAAADjY/Hfu8sqnpsgE/s200/DSC00503.JPG" /></a></div>of mountains, 1/3 of the northern loop that is the required course for tourists visiting Ethiopia. After Aksum and Gonder, my next stop was Lalibela, where I met up with Bob and Denis on Good Friday for the weekend. This was one of the most special times to be here given it was Orthodox Easter weekend and there was not only a lot to see, but to witness the rituals of this high holy weekend.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1M4NpAQ3UfI/T5AVM72c1DI/AAAAAAAADjk/RexF3Ka5dLQ/s1600/DSC00519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1M4NpAQ3UfI/T5AVM72c1DI/AAAAAAAADjk/RexF3Ka5dLQ/s200/DSC00519.JPG" /></a></div> Known for its 11 churches dug out from stone, Lalibela is amazing. Centuries ago, King Lalibela began this Herculean task of digging out of the rock sided hills 11 magnificent churches, all made out of one entire piece of stone. Legend has it that Lalibela’s brother poisoned him and while in a coma, the king went up to heaven where God told him to make the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LT9ZFk-k-EU/T5AVc6jHV4I/AAAAAAAADjw/s5acfmW4Kho/s1600/DSC00508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LT9ZFk-k-EU/T5AVc6jHV4I/AAAAAAAADjw/s5acfmW4Kho/s200/DSC00508.JPG" /></a></div>churches and create a second Jerusalem. The legend also says that God sent down angels to help King Lalibela build the churches. His subjects worked all day, the angels working all night. Whether true or not, these churches are a miracle of engineering, planning and artistry. <br />
Our guide for the 2 days we were in Lalibela, Mulule, took us around to all the churches and <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5obgEzCFxmo/T5AVsnhejOI/AAAAAAAADj8/OeQznXJzzYE/s1600/DSC00568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5obgEzCFxmo/T5AVsnhejOI/AAAAAAAADj8/OeQznXJzzYE/s200/DSC00568.jpg" /></a></div>explained in detail the history and special features of each church. It was rather tricky on Good Friday since each church was packed with worshippers and we had to squeeze our way through the crowds and over people going up and down furtively in prayer. We stayed at St. Georgiyos church for <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8kfFczlhp4/T5AV9RTMKcI/AAAAAAAADkI/qpx9UnXsAtg/s1600/DSC00536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8kfFczlhp4/T5AV9RTMKcI/AAAAAAAADkI/qpx9UnXsAtg/s200/DSC00536.JPG" /></a></div>the procession around the church to symbolize Christ’s walk up to Calvary Hill where he was crucified. With bright coloured, glittery umbrellas, censers wafting aromatic frankincense, and big gold crosses on staffs, the priests led everyone around this ancient church. It was a beautiful ritual, and <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q41guJJg1aY/T5AWLd2-aDI/AAAAAAAADkU/vzOTrukeGa4/s1600/DSC00493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q41guJJg1aY/T5AWLd2-aDI/AAAAAAAADkU/vzOTrukeGa4/s200/DSC00493.jpg" /></a></div>as was we walked around the church I reflected on how many times this procession has been done. It felt like something that harked back to the time of the first Christians and it felt so real. We are just mere people taking part in an ancient ritual—many have done this befire us, and many will do it after us. Humanity expressing their respect for their religion and their God. It wasn’t just another tourist experience but a chance to take part in an ancient Ethiopian <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W8KJ46T7hdQ/T5AWhsA1c_I/AAAAAAAADkg/R3OD3SGdmf4/s1600/DSC00559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W8KJ46T7hdQ/T5AWhsA1c_I/AAAAAAAADkg/R3OD3SGdmf4/s200/DSC00559.JPG" /></a></div>religious tradition.<br />
Saturday was a better day to see the churches for no one, and I mean no one, was there. The Good Friday crowd was down at the town market buying their goats, chickens, sheep and ther food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fqK_OzC_JVM/T5AWtjZdP-I/AAAAAAAADks/EE-vzwwnmmM/s1600/DSC00468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fqK_OzC_JVM/T5AWtjZdP-I/AAAAAAAADks/EE-vzwwnmmM/s200/DSC00468.JPG" /></a></div>for their Easter feast. Ethiopians fast for 55 days, denying themselves all animal products, and the final day before Easter, they have no food or water. From the churches we could see the mass of people at the market place down below St. Georgiyos church, and as we made our way through town, the locals would pass us with upsidedown chickens and sheep or goats on a small leash. The churches <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jubJOLVQzJc/T5AW7lE0QCI/AAAAAAAADk4/LjTmRiSwrKs/s1600/DSC00561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jubJOLVQzJc/T5AW7lE0QCI/AAAAAAAADk4/LjTmRiSwrKs/s200/DSC00561.JPG" /></a></div>we visited on Saturday morning were amazing as well, especially Bet Emmanuel, one of the largest churches carved out of the rock. What’s interesting is that most of the churches are not painted inside with frescoes or intricately carved. Maybe because after carving these monolithic churches out of rock, they were too tired to spend the time making the inside look nice. I bought a white cotton wrap that everyone was wearing over the weekend, the required white wrap that one must <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1K3eTaAjEv4/T5AXJ3xAGHI/AAAAAAAADlE/Ysuj_oD7c_A/s1600/DSC00572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1K3eTaAjEv4/T5AXJ3xAGHI/AAAAAAAADlE/Ysuj_oD7c_A/s200/DSC00572.jpg" /></a></div>wear when going to the church on the holy days. It was a little short, but I was able to wrap myself up in it sufficiently. Mulule had a longer one on that he wore the entire time he was with us. <br />
After lunch at a fabulous new restaurant in town Ben Abeba, co owned by an Ethiopian and a <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ETK13Xv9IVk/T5AXaehkezI/AAAAAAAADlQ/MgQu0rOqnR4/s1600/DSC00589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ETK13Xv9IVk/T5AXaehkezI/AAAAAAAADlQ/MgQu0rOqnR4/s200/DSC00589.JPG" /></a></div>Scottish woman. This new place has made its mark on Lalibela with its very unique architecture—a structure that resembles some organic plant life sprouting flowers. Overlooking the valley, it is the perfect place to watch the sunset, and also look up at the towering moutain above the town. If you ever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SntcVPdqIK8/T5AYDkzhaSI/AAAAAAAADlc/YdHoRgEqhWU/s1600/DSC00592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SntcVPdqIK8/T5AYDkzhaSI/AAAAAAAADlc/YdHoRgEqhWU/s200/DSC00592.JPG" /></a></div>get to Lalibela, put this place on your dining itinerary for it is worth it. Not only is the ambience wonderful, the food is delicious. Mulule met up with us at the restaurant and we piled into a van and drove off to see Yemrahana Kristos—another ancient church set in a cave up in the hills 45 kms <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qiwr6xGAlxo/T5AYQ55BLAI/AAAAAAAADlo/13CMkFbAA-k/s1600/DSC00613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qiwr6xGAlxo/T5AYQ55BLAI/AAAAAAAADlo/13CMkFbAA-k/s200/DSC00613.jpg" /></a></div>outside of Lalibela. The road is not too long, but it is not the best road so it takes about 1.5 hours to get there. It’s definitely worth the drive, for it is a beautiful wood and stone church that is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hKZLMro7AA8/T5AYeOjyKZI/AAAAAAAADl0/fodd7b0S1qA/s1600/DSC00602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hKZLMro7AA8/T5AYeOjyKZI/AAAAAAAADl0/fodd7b0S1qA/s200/DSC00602.JPG" /></a></div>almost as old as the ones in Lalibela. My favorite part was the skeletons scattered in the back in a large recess in the rock. Over the years pilgrims have come here to die and their mummified remains are all that are left of them. They’ve fallen apart with time so now one can see piles of femurs, skulls, rib cages, and such just lying there. Creepy, but fascinating. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmhgz_TM5_Y/T5AY7RAaUTI/AAAAAAAADmA/5pY3ODDc04Q/s1600/DSC00649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmhgz_TM5_Y/T5AY7RAaUTI/AAAAAAAADmA/5pY3ODDc04Q/s200/DSC00649.jpg" /></a></div>The highlight of our trip was definitely Easter service on Saturday night. People start gathering at the churches from 9pm and the priests sit outside the church, chanting, praying and reading from the Bible. Worshippers lay on the ground around the church in their white cloths and it looks like a sea of white glowing in the darkness. We had a perch up top on the edge, overlooking the priests and Bet Maryam (the church of Mary) and with a glorious view of the stars. As it got <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_nkp3HsX98/T5AZrejl8PI/AAAAAAAADmM/7oQ7fst9uZ4/s1600/DSC00665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_nkp3HsX98/T5AZrejl8PI/AAAAAAAADmM/7oQ7fst9uZ4/s200/DSC00665.JPG" /></a></div>later, more and more people came, locals and tourists, and the chanting and drums and singing could be heard from all the other churches. At 11:30 or so, there was a candle light procession around the church with more chanting and drumming, which was just magical. The soft glow of the hundreds of candles, reflecting off the white shawls, the drummers, the big velvet and gold umbrellas, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NhDuwuPQmRA/T5AZ6WMFKYI/AAAAAAAADmY/MDZ6XYp9pP8/s1600/DSC00652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NhDuwuPQmRA/T5AZ6WMFKYI/AAAAAAAADmY/MDZ6XYp9pP8/s200/DSC00652.JPG" /></a></div>the frankincense, the chanting made this a wonderfully spiritual experience. Afterwards, everyone layed down and there was a quietness that fell over the town. The tradition is that you lay down until the priest announces that Christ has risen. Only then do you arise, just like Christ. This rising symbolizes rebirth and is marked by yelling and rejoicing loudly. Beautiful, is all I can say. <br />
Eggs are not part of the Ethiopian tradition, but reeds are. On Saturday, everyone gets a piece of reed that they split and tie around their heads. Like the egg, the reed symbolizes new<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uBz2Rg-z-PY/T5AaEZP5vLI/AAAAAAAADmk/J6CjzsyYORM/s1600/DSC00658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uBz2Rg-z-PY/T5AaEZP5vLI/AAAAAAAADmk/J6CjzsyYORM/s200/DSC00658.JPG" /></a></div>life and rebirth. We got our reeds from a priest in one of the churches and wore them around our heads all day and night. Interesting to see the different Easter traditions around the world. I missed making Easter eggs this year, but was happy donning my reed around my head all day.<br />
Easter morning came with the sounds of chickens cackling and sheeps and goats baaing their <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LcpKRxTUvFU/T5AaVaoWzxI/AAAAAAAADmw/eNdR_3AP9Ps/s1600/DSC00539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LcpKRxTUvFU/T5AaVaoWzxI/AAAAAAAADmw/eNdR_3AP9Ps/s200/DSC00539.JPG" /></a></div>last sounds before becoming a family’s Easter dinner. Around 9, the cacophony ceased and it seemed like the dreaded end came to those animals I could hear from my hotel room. Sad to know that the animals ended their lives this way, but such is life. I was talking to an American gentleman at breakfast who is working on a USAID agricultural project here, and he was telling me about the impact that fasting has on agriculture, especially all the cow’s milk and eggs that go to waste <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xhO2Ncl6c4I/T5Aai5-9F1I/AAAAAAAADm8/FGuh8FdXd5Y/s1600/DSC00541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xhO2Ncl6c4I/T5Aai5-9F1I/AAAAAAAADm8/FGuh8FdXd5Y/s200/DSC00541.JPG" /></a></div>because no one is eating them for 55 days. Interesting thought, there should be alternatives to this food use so as not to waste so much. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJjjW0qlY3M/T5AauTlw7EI/AAAAAAAADnI/OjYamjunaRE/s1600/DSC00629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJjjW0qlY3M/T5AauTlw7EI/AAAAAAAADnI/OjYamjunaRE/s200/DSC00629.jpg" /></a></div> At 1pm Bob, Denis and I were aboard a Bombadier plane full of other tourists heading back to the capital after an exciting 5 days in northern Ethiopian. Just two more days and I’ll be on a bigger plane, heading back to my home base, New York City! I’ll have to enjoy the rest of my trip as much as possible!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-30856963785621329872012-04-19T09:34:00.000-04:002012-04-19T09:34:47.322-04:00The Camelot of AfricaThe sun rises early here in Gonder over the mountains to the east of the Gohar hotel my glamorous lodgings perched high on a hill overlooking this medieval town. The Gonder town <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gvxQ2ePwbo0/T5APCHVCf5I/AAAAAAAADhg/Y9fwX9kML9g/s1600/DSC00398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gvxQ2ePwbo0/T5APCHVCf5I/AAAAAAAADhg/Y9fwX9kML9g/s200/DSC00398.JPG" /></a></div>musicians were my wake-up call again—a cacophony of roosters, dogs and a donkey bray now and then to add to the animal chorus. All that was missing was the meows of a cat, but I’m sure it was uttered just left unheard by all the rest. The rhythm of life in a small, historic city on the northern loop.<br />
Gonder is most famous for its medieval castles set in the center of town. The Royal Enclosure, as it is called, surrounded by walls is an amazing ensemble of old castles built by <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0c6cAdpJW4Q/T5APXCf0whI/AAAAAAAADhs/KwVqkN4IILY/s1600/DSC00417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0c6cAdpJW4Q/T5APXCf0whI/AAAAAAAADhs/KwVqkN4IILY/s200/DSC00417.JPG" /></a></div>various emperors and empresses of yore. These old structures have held up impressively well over the 400-500 years since they were built. I fended off the offers from tour guides politely and enjoyed imagining how life was like way back when, when the gorunds were teeming with royalty and their minions running to and fro. Those out of favor hung from the trees outside the palace walls, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8w26Ljpt9-U/T5APyXHdx8I/AAAAAAAADh4/M_X5xDzSLHk/s1600/DSC00402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8w26Ljpt9-U/T5APyXHdx8I/AAAAAAAADh4/M_X5xDzSLHk/s200/DSC00402.jpg" /></a></div>probably as a reminder to stay in good standing with the emperor.<br />
I had about three hours to explore the main sites of Gonder upon my arrival from Aksum: The Royal Enclosure, Fasilade’s Bath and Debre Selaissie church. I hit all three, the church being<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5ltK-ULVCws/T5AQqb7AAFI/AAAAAAAADiE/Tcz8behTcKA/s1600/DSC00454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5ltK-ULVCws/T5AQqb7AAFI/AAAAAAAADiE/Tcz8behTcKA/s200/DSC00454.JPG" /></a></div>closed for a service, so instead went to Kuskuam, another palace up on a hill outside of town. Built by Empress Mewatib after her husband died, she decided to live outside the court (and away from gossip, for she loved her young boys) not much is left of the place. The Sudanese dervishes, the Brits and Italians trashed the place as they went through Gonder at various times throughout history. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ghW9MrwNUEs/T5AQ7Z93PzI/AAAAAAAADiQ/3g1r3wYElOM/s1600/DSC00460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ghW9MrwNUEs/T5AQ7Z93PzI/AAAAAAAADiQ/3g1r3wYElOM/s200/DSC00460.jpg" /></a></div>Most impressing at Kuskuam was the singing coming from the church in the palace complex. Women furtively crossed themselves and bowed on the ground outside the church. The prayer ritual here reminded me a lot of the way Muslims pray; bent knees and head to the floor. Similar yet different, yet same goal—worshipping God. <br />
After touring the town, had a little nap and enjoyed some G&T’s on the terrace as the sun set<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--4Lw4dbS2v0/T5ARKSBVuPI/AAAAAAAADic/3NxIXa9RucI/s1600/DSC00461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--4Lw4dbS2v0/T5ARKSBVuPI/AAAAAAAADic/3NxIXa9RucI/s200/DSC00461.JPG" /></a></div>over the mountains to the west. Met Richard and Nina, two vactioners while watching the sun go down over Gonder. He works for Medicines Sans Frontieres in Somalia, and she’s a social worker in DC. We enjoyed the view over dirnks and then went down the hill to town for dinner. Richard was craving a <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b-l8kbGH9Uc/T5ARWRauG3I/AAAAAAAADio/rjw2Cb1cFzE/s1600/DSC00466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b-l8kbGH9Uc/T5ARWRauG3I/AAAAAAAADio/rjw2Cb1cFzE/s200/DSC00466.JPG" /></a></div>steak, so they went to a hotel for din din, and I to the Four Sisters restaurant, which came highly recommended by Bob and Denis. It was an off night for Four Sisters, as I was one of two tables that were busy. Usually the place ishopping, but it’s off season I guess. Still, I got a guy singing traditional songs just for me as I sipped my honey wine and had a very delicious meal of lamb tibs and veggies. Got to meet the four sisters too who were all very pleasant and hospitable. At first it seemed sad that such an exotic Ethiopian restaurant, so fabulously decorated would <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--DX87nQCo5c/T5ASj0Lku_I/AAAAAAAADi0/0UPKHN01pnM/s1600/DSC00482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--DX87nQCo5c/T5ASj0Lku_I/AAAAAAAADi0/0UPKHN01pnM/s200/DSC00482.JPG" /></a></div>be empty, but by the end, I was quite content by the individual service they provided. I even got to play the masenqo-a one-stringed instrument while two of the sisters danced for me. At the end of the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GyFDIoZ08yc/T5ATMHkKMfI/AAAAAAAADjA/8W3LT4tcSRY/s1600/DSC00480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GyFDIoZ08yc/T5ATMHkKMfI/AAAAAAAADjA/8W3LT4tcSRY/s200/DSC00480.JPG" /></a></div>evening, the sisters called me a tuk tuk and off I went into the night, speeding up the winding road back to my hotel. A full half day but oh so enjoyable. This morning I’m going to make the trek to Debre Selaissie church to see if I can take a peak inside before Goof Friday service begin and <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6z3UPtaGIoc/T5AUQH7eZXI/AAAAAAAADjM/BjoNxRIdHjo/s1600/DSC00467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6z3UPtaGIoc/T5AUQH7eZXI/AAAAAAAADjM/BjoNxRIdHjo/s200/DSC00467.JPG" /></a></div>before I have to fly to Lalibela. Wish me luck!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-22733343430025158302012-04-19T09:01:00.001-04:002012-04-19T09:08:55.111-04:00A Walk Through AksumMorning comes to Aksum. A chorus of roosters awakes this small city with their cock-a-doddle-<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EPm2LS6fUqY/T5AH_vq35vI/AAAAAAAADfQ/STBQRSTn0aI/s1600/DSC00270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EPm2LS6fUqY/T5AH_vq35vI/AAAAAAAADfQ/STBQRSTn0aI/s200/DSC00270.JPG" /></a></div>doos 100+ strong. Other birds chirp in to add to the avian chorus. A donkey brays loudly nearby, not to be outdone by the birds. Soon Aksum will be humming along in its daily routine as it has for thousands of years.<br />
I really love this town. In many ways it reminds me of a Mexican colonial town; orderly <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6nLG5o0q6Q/T5AIXIlgZZI/AAAAAAAADfc/40zBLGKUtYE/s1600/DSC00288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6nLG5o0q6Q/T5AIXIlgZZI/AAAAAAAADfc/40zBLGKUtYE/s200/DSC00288.JPG" /></a></div>streets, bright coloured houses of green, blue, and ochre. Wide boulevards lined with beautiful flowering trees, little street cafes where locals sip coffee and watch people go by while catching up in the latest news. My most favorite of places to visit is the giant tree growing in the middle of <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C2I-AJbZHL4/T5AI9ztFK0I/AAAAAAAADfo/5KjCIxoCmZQ/s1600/DSC00318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C2I-AJbZHL4/T5AI9ztFK0I/AAAAAAAADfo/5KjCIxoCmZQ/s200/DSC00318.JPG" /></a></div>town, encircled by a three-tiered cement platform where people sit, talk, and check out the scene. This is where <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uutIulVkZuE/T5AJPAYycFI/AAAAAAAADf0/30S0_Qj6d2U/s1600/DSC00358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uutIulVkZuE/T5AJPAYycFI/AAAAAAAADf0/30S0_Qj6d2U/s200/DSC00358.JPG" /></a></div>real Aksum life happens; the old men sit and talk, ladies rest a spell with their loads before heading on, young <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tTcCU8zhxnk/T5AKTiYU8yI/AAAAAAAADgA/ndQS13mIsIA/s1600/DSC00331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tTcCU8zhxnk/T5AKTiYU8yI/AAAAAAAADgA/ndQS13mIsIA/s200/DSC00331.JPG" /></a></div>guys wait for friends, others playing Foosball. This is what I love to experience, not all the historical and touristy stuff that I supposedly need to see. Tourists get shuttled from one <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fQYaDI6m8F4/T5AMkC-CsaI/AAAAAAAADhI/Fxq72daXeWI/s1600/DSC00357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fQYaDI6m8F4/T5AMkC-CsaI/AAAAAAAADhI/Fxq72daXeWI/s200/DSC00357.JPG" /></a></div>place to the next on their buses, but I just want to sit and watch present-day Aksum go by, chatting with whomever<br />
comes and sits next to me.<br />
Aksum is an ancient capital of Ethiopia, and is known for its amazing steles (giant, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjvIvZNmTJ4/T5ALB71HkYI/AAAAAAAADgY/5DqDwKkxfjE/s1600/DSC00274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjvIvZNmTJ4/T5ALB71HkYI/AAAAAAAADgY/5DqDwKkxfjE/s200/DSC00274.JPG" /></a></div>monolithic, edifices) that have been standing around town for centuries. Also there’s the Ark of the Covenant that apparently lies in a small church between the old and new St. Mary of Zion churches. I say apparently because only one man is able to see it—a blind monk who holds the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I8DWxO-pAng/T5ALdqs4YCI/AAAAAAAADgk/-iDFVnFunHc/s1600/DSC00276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I8DWxO-pAng/T5ALdqs4YCI/AAAAAAAADgk/-iDFVnFunHc/s200/DSC00276.JPG" /></a></div>key. Lastly, this is where the legendary Queen of Sheba ruled Ethiopia. Legend has it that she went tovisit King Solomon in Jerusalem, wound up having a baby by him and her son, Menelik I, was the one who <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rXlmWTOuygY/T5ALsaO-QXI/AAAAAAAADgw/ULQxyhKUKiI/s1600/DSC00285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rXlmWTOuygY/T5ALsaO-QXI/AAAAAAAADgw/ULQxyhKUKiI/s200/DSC00285.JPG" /></a></div>brought the Ark back to Ethiopia when he went ot visit his father. Ethiopia is a place of many fantastic stories and with enough evidence to make them more or less believable.<br />
Yesterday I flew up here from Addis and spent the day roaming the historical sites and streets by foot. The only thing that takes away from the magic of Aksum are all the people that glom on to you along the way. They follow you, trying to get something out of you, take you to a shop, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oQaKKbpMvhs/T5AMUWfQgRI/AAAAAAAADg8/FY2L8hj1XoI/s1600/DSC00324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oQaKKbpMvhs/T5AMUWfQgRI/AAAAAAAADg8/FY2L8hj1XoI/s200/DSC00324.JPG" /></a></div>offer a guided tour, etc. It’s as if we (farenji) are only a source of income for them, and yes technically we are, but I don’t enjoy being hustled every step I take in this town. “Hello, Hello, Hello” they yeall at you or follow quietly beside you and then pop a cross necklace or a geode at you. By the end of the day, it’s hard to be civil with them and you don’t want to buy anything at all from them. There’s also the myriad of guides who want to show you things, most of them are unofficial guides. I have to be honest, I HATE guides. It goes back to my Russia days where you were forced to have a guide in every museum or historical place. I enjoy reading about thing, then going to see them. I don’t like to be told what I am looking at, thus I’m sure that <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5A7MeDeAF9M/T5AKwKqHJlI/AAAAAAAADgM/gDzYnaEyxsA/s1600/DSC00348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5A7MeDeAF9M/T5AKwKqHJlI/AAAAAAAADgM/gDzYnaEyxsA/s200/DSC00348.JPG" /></a></div>I am the bane of many a guide here. I fended them off as best I could, politely saying NO and complementing them of their wonderful city. Aksum does need to diversify itself. Tourism is big business but it can’t be the only game in town.<br />
In a few hours I will be off to Gonder, another ancient capital of Ethiopia. Less churches, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w7d9lcHs0Wc/T5ANYtZnGYI/AAAAAAAADhU/CU9NcoQSPxE/s1600/DSC00332.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w7d9lcHs0Wc/T5ANYtZnGYI/AAAAAAAADhU/CU9NcoQSPxE/s200/DSC00332.JPG" /></a></div>more castles. It’s called the African Camelot, so I look forward to a break from churches for a day, and see some old castles. On Friday, Good Friday here in Ethiopia, I’ll be meeting up with Bob and Denis in Lalibela, the holiest of places here. That should be an amazing place, given we will be there Easter weekend and it’ll be packed with pilgrims. Can’t wait for that! If you want to know what happens, keep reading.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-17316289270948585002012-04-08T01:04:00.000-04:002012-04-08T01:04:42.315-04:00You Gotta Have FaithEaster Sunday all over the Christian world, but Palm Sunday here in Orthodox Ethiopia. The <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tXfav9yRFqs/T4EWYWLdrEI/AAAAAAAADdw/C00iWaJ6N3o/s1600/DSC00027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tXfav9yRFqs/T4EWYWLdrEI/AAAAAAAADdw/C00iWaJ6N3o/s200/DSC00027.jpg" /></a></div>priest’s prayers resonate over Piazza, the area of Addis Ababa where my friends live. We have one more week of fasting and such before the big Easter day. I will be spending it in Lalibela, one of the oldest Christian sites in all of Ethiopia. Famous for its churches dug out of rock, there will many a pilgrim there next week. Looking forward to that.<br />
It’s amazing to find out that Ethiopia is the second country in the world to adopt <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-db-tb0sYQbE/T4EXO1ahibI/AAAAAAAADd8/Jur2SyJL850/s1600/DSC00085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-db-tb0sYQbE/T4EXO1ahibI/AAAAAAAADd8/Jur2SyJL850/s200/DSC00085.jpg" /></a></div>Christianity (Armenia being the first) way back in 300 AD. To think that here people have been worshipping for more centuries than almost anyone else is amazing. When I reflect upon that, I think of the Catholics and other Christians who think they are so high and mighty and that they are superior <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LLwSWA5Ctkc/T4EXivwn-fI/AAAAAAAADeI/xnB9y2I1DCc/s1600/DSC00047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LLwSWA5Ctkc/T4EXivwn-fI/AAAAAAAADeI/xnB9y2I1DCc/s200/DSC00047.jpg" /></a></div>to any other Christians, but you know what? The Ethiopians have been doing it longer, and they are devout and not prideful in their worship. There is serenity, a calm when entering a church here and something special watching people pray. It is welcoming and yet distant in some way. Still the centuries-old faith that is practiced by the majority of the population never ceases to put me in awe. The frescoes and <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1LsCPLat1z0/T4EYfcy0pkI/AAAAAAAADeU/XuJtVtzGMyE/s1600/DSC00032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1LsCPLat1z0/T4EYfcy0pkI/AAAAAAAADeU/XuJtVtzGMyE/s200/DSC00032.JPG" /></a></div>icons in the churches are just spectacular, as are the churches themselves. I’ve only been in two, yet in each one I feel such peace, as if I am at home.<br />
Notwithstanding, Islam plays an important role in Ethiopia as well. It came along 300 years <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfiMaz8ZPPU/T4EZV0s5LgI/AAAAAAAADeg/F1bzygLg2CI/s1600/DSC00029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfiMaz8ZPPU/T4EZV0s5LgI/AAAAAAAADeg/F1bzygLg2CI/s200/DSC00029.jpg" /></a></div>after Christianity, and serves a decent proportion of the population. While churches dot the Addis skyline more than mosques, Christians and Muslims work and live side by side and seem to get on well with each other. Accoridng to my friend Bob, there doesn’t seem to be animosity between the two groups. I’m sure they have their scuffles but for the most part all is well.<br />
Yesterday we visited the Trinity Church, also known as Haile Selassie’s church since he worshipped there and is buried there next to his wife Empress Menan. It’s such a beautiful <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QbnOMlna3Jk/T4EaBVDrknI/AAAAAAAADes/ADEYxPer7N4/s1600/DSC00045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QbnOMlna3Jk/T4EaBVDrknI/AAAAAAAADes/ADEYxPer7N4/s200/DSC00045.jpg" /></a></div>church and the time of day we visited, the lighting was just perfect to make it memorable. The stained glass windows, the altar, the large tombs of the last emperor and empress of Ethiopia, the quiet of <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lj5wUBhHyY/T4EawyojQwI/AAAAAAAADe4/f_ksfQink4A/s1600/DSC00060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lj5wUBhHyY/T4EawyojQwI/AAAAAAAADe4/f_ksfQink4A/s200/DSC00060.JPG" /></a></div>the place, it definitely was wonderful. They were gearing up for the Palm Sunday celebrations outside by hanging bunting in Ethiopian flag colours, assembling canopies and putting up palm fronds everywhere. This is only the second church I’ve been in here, but this coming week I will be churched out when I head up to Aksum, Gondar, and Lalibela—that’s the heart of Ethiopian Christianity.<br />
Faith, it’s something everyone needs—it brings us together and breaks us apart. The more I <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3X_VZrSC3Es/T4EcGuQ0TtI/AAAAAAAADfE/nUzpXE74RQI/s1600/DSC00055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3X_VZrSC3Es/T4EcGuQ0TtI/AAAAAAAADfE/nUzpXE74RQI/s200/DSC00055.jpg" /></a></div>travel around the world, the more I know that all religions are right, not one is better than the other, and that God is one. It doesn’t matter if we pray 5 times a day, go to church once a week, visit a temple daily, as long as it makes sense to us as individuals, it’s all good. The roads are different, the destination is the same. Such are my thoughts on Palm Sunday here in Addis. Now I must see to breakfast.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-44125951894289442202012-04-05T01:07:00.000-04:002012-04-05T01:07:51.716-04:00Good Morning Addis AbabaMorning comes to Addis Ababa. The glow of the rising sun comes through my big windows that <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cAf4MJnchQY/T30dIWIRTCI/AAAAAAAADb4/ZITJ95FRfl8/s1600/DSC09881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cAf4MJnchQY/T30dIWIRTCI/AAAAAAAADb4/ZITJ95FRfl8/s200/DSC09881.JPG" /></a></div>overlook the garden. Somewhere outside the walls of Bob and Denis’s home come chanting from some place of worship. It is not the meuzzin’s call to prayer but something else, something I’ve never heard before, maybe morning prayers from the local Orthodox church perhaps. Orthodox Christianity is the main religion here in Ethiopia so it could be some morning prayers.<br />
My second full day in Ethiopia has arrived. I’m sure I could have stayed longer in India, but<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YtYBfrx0Cv0/T30dv8JHnmI/AAAAAAAADcE/JV4DhATRlwY/s1600/DSC09912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YtYBfrx0Cv0/T30dv8JHnmI/AAAAAAAADcE/JV4DhATRlwY/s200/DSC09912.jpg" /></a></div>it seemd time to move on and see new places. This is my second time in Africa, my previous being back in 1998 when I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. I’ve come into this adventure with not much knowledge of the place, but will leave a lot more informed about Ethiopia. This country has an amazing history and stands alone from other African countries in the sense that it was never a colony, the second country in the world to make Christianity its official religion, and has a rich culture <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kYbnV5ffVR0/T30ea5YSW1I/AAAAAAAADcQ/lD8ZjWp07Jc/s1600/DSC09934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kYbnV5ffVR0/T30ea5YSW1I/AAAAAAAADcQ/lD8ZjWp07Jc/s200/DSC09934.jpg" /></a></div>that spans centuries. I look forward to learning more about Ethiopia as I experience it. Most exciting is that I’ll be here for Orthodox Easter, which will be a great thing to see.<br />
My digs are rather fancy here, a big house surrounded by a lovely garden. Bob and Denis are <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-THBLuiDZ2iM/T30gTv_AnCI/AAAAAAAADcc/bVSlJxbARW8/s1600/DSC09958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-THBLuiDZ2iM/T30gTv_AnCI/AAAAAAAADcc/bVSlJxbARW8/s200/DSC09958.JPG" /></a></div>living the expat life here and have it rather comfortable. After being cast adrift from my other job, I thought this is the time to come to Africa and see them. Ethiopia has a different smell than India. India is full of all sorts of exotic smells, both delectable and not, but Ehiopia has an earthy smell, one of the red soil laced with cinnamon and frankincense. I’m sure it has its share of bad smells to but that’s the first thing I notice here is the smell. Every place has its own smell and that’s what I detected as I got off the plane and exited the airport into the evening air.<br />
Addis is a lively city, as a capital city should be. Denis and I drive around yesterday to check it out. It has a definite hodge podge feeling, grand buildings lining the wide boulevards, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6Y174Ae2VDk/T30h2zFUvUI/AAAAAAAADco/A0ZFvE9Tp3Q/s1600/DSC09890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6Y174Ae2VDk/T30h2zFUvUI/AAAAAAAADco/A0ZFvE9Tp3Q/s200/DSC09890.JPG" /></a></div>with smaller houses and shops on the side streets. There is a big plan to tear down all the little shops and houses and put up tall, glass buildings to show how modern a city is Addis, but it will lose a lot of its character unfortunately. Governments never learn about retaining a city’s heritage.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r8eiKvidxtA/T30iypFtXII/AAAAAAAADc0/gvEH1kRH6os/s1600/DSC09892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r8eiKvidxtA/T30iypFtXII/AAAAAAAADc0/gvEH1kRH6os/s200/DSC09892.JPG" /></a></div>Rich developers’ grand plans and all the money they will pocket out of the deal blind them. Why won’t they ever learn? We spent some time trying to find an ATM that accepted MasterCard and in between had a <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fqnViu1HgiY/T30jt2NSY6I/AAAAAAAADdA/iRCWTyNuEp8/s1600/DSC09897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fqnViu1HgiY/T30jt2NSY6I/AAAAAAAADdA/iRCWTyNuEp8/s200/DSC09897.JPG" /></a></div>coffee at Tomoca, a charming little coffee house where robust coffee is served in small glasses and sipped by the locals at high tables. It’s not a place to leisure over a cup of coffee for an hour, but rather a quick sip and you’re on your way. Despite my giving up coffee, I broke the rule yesterday. Ethiopia is known for its coffee and when in Ethiopia, why not try the coffee?<br />
Upon arrival, I grabbed B and D’s Lonely Planet guide to Ethiopia and have been catching up of my Ethiopian history and pouring information about the places I need to see into my noggin. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2n5DQPVmuk4/T30kQcJzqDI/AAAAAAAADdM/q6oTKU1-w4s/s1600/DSC09910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2n5DQPVmuk4/T30kQcJzqDI/AAAAAAAADdM/q6oTKU1-w4s/s200/DSC09910.JPG" /></a></div>I’ll be spending this week in Addis and then next week will fly off to “do the loop” as they call it; Aksum, Gondar, and Lalibela—the three ancient cities up north. Lalibela is famous for its churches dug out of the rock, free standing in large caverns in the ground. That’s where <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJt5gLCZw0U/T30lCmeNoTI/AAAAAAAADdY/L5wpZ9YV23c/s1600/DSC09937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJt5gLCZw0U/T30lCmeNoTI/AAAAAAAADdY/L5wpZ9YV23c/s200/DSC09937.JPG" /></a></div>Bob and Denis and I will spend Orthodox Easter, which should be quite the event. Aksum and Gondar are ancient capitals, one holding the Ark of the Covenant and where the Queen of Sheba ruled, and the other holds many ancient castles and churches and supposedly is really a beautiful place to visit. More details form this places next week. Until then I will soak up the local scene here in the capital. Last night we went to see an Egyptian film at the Alliance Francaise, and then dined <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5K9IfF0HmxM/T30naYXMybI/AAAAAAAADdk/tHpJbGrl8CU/s1600/DSC09970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5K9IfF0HmxM/T30naYXMybI/AAAAAAAADdk/tHpJbGrl8CU/s200/DSC09970.JPG" /></a></div>in the La Petit Francaise, the restaurant on the grounds. Nice place—the chewiest piece of beef I’ve had in a long time! Met some of Bob’s colleagues and had a nice expat evening. Today who knows what will unfold. I’m sure Denis and I will head out to check something out and have a nice lunch somewhere. So far am enjoying this fabulous place!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-70913989351763262212012-04-01T23:01:00.000-04:002012-04-01T23:01:35.185-04:00Time for a change of sceneryMy last full day in India. This has been the longest I’ve spent here after a camp. It’s <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8HEFwfw3ZMI/T3kRCIgOHII/AAAAAAAADaM/NthlJtL6Ozc/s1600/DSC09880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8HEFwfw3ZMI/T3kRCIgOHII/AAAAAAAADaM/NthlJtL6Ozc/s200/DSC09880.JPG" /></a></div>really been enjoyable. I feel it’s the first time when I’m able to be on my own in India and explore it without being managed by others or had 40 Afghans connected to me. India can be an overwhelming place, but I have come to appreciate it and really like it. The people are wonderful, the food is great and there are so many beautiful places to see. <br />
Being kicked out of Turkmenistan has not been a shining moment in my career and it upsets me <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Djt9COvkSQc/T3kRZlauJyI/AAAAAAAADaY/wN9cogUfCWY/s1600/DSC09827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Djt9COvkSQc/T3kRZlauJyI/AAAAAAAADaY/wN9cogUfCWY/s200/DSC09827.jpg" /></a></div>that I’ve let my colleagues there down. Yet everything happens for a reason. Maybe I’m just not cut out for living in repressive regimes. I don’t know whhat’s going to happen next but I do know it’s going to be all right. Maybe this is a sign to finish my book as I promised myself (yes I think that’s a plan). Given free time to roam about the world for a bit is great. I’m looking forward to two weeks in Ethiopia visiting Bob and Denis. I really know little about Ethiopia and am looking forward to exploring this new and exciting place. Not everyone looks at Ethiopia as such a place but it should be a great trip. In a few hours I’m off to the Ethiopian embassy to get my visa and tomorrow it’s goodbye Delhi and hello Addis Ababa!<br />
I found out on Friday morning that my yellow fever shot was out of date and I needed a new <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xNvbinsiNV4/T3kSF08sNQI/AAAAAAAADak/1Tznpky9Ce8/s1600/DSC09740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xNvbinsiNV4/T3kSF08sNQI/AAAAAAAADak/1Tznpky9Ce8/s200/DSC09740.JPG" /></a></div>one. So I furtively searched the Internet looking for places in Delhi to do that, which there were but none on Mondays (my only day to do it). In a blog entry, there was a doctor in Chandighar, 4 hours away, that does yellow fever shots, so I called him found out where he was located at 1 pm was on a bus down the hill to Chandighar. Now the last thing I wanted to do on my last day in Shimla was spent most of the day on a bus, but this was important and needed to be done. Plus after a week up in the hills, I needed an adventure. The bus flew down the winding roads though villages and towns, filling our half empty bus with more and more passengers. By the time we got down to the bottom in Kalka, the place was packed. At the bus station in Chandighar, I negotiated a car to take me to Dr. Gupta’s clinic and then back to Shimla and off I went. Dr. Gupta is a pediatrician who also provides yellow fever vaccinations to wandering foreigners like myself. His office is tucked upstairs in a shopping center, very clean and nice. At 2,800 rupees a shot, the yellow fever business can be very lucrative. So after four hours on a bus, I had 15 minutes with Dr. Gupta and then was back on my way up the mountain to Shimla. My driver was a young guy named Ishan. His English was not great but we practiced along the way up the twisty, winding roads. He has a nasty sounding girlfriend who kept calling and yelling at him. I told him I’s throw the phine out the window if she kept calling or talk to her myself. He seems like a nice guy and doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. He told me all she wants is money (which he doesn’t have a lot of), I told him to get rid of her.<br />
Ishan is from Dharamsala but has come down to Chandighar to be a driver. He’s been here for about a year, and doesn’t really like it. He’s always working and earns a mere 7,000 rupees a month (about $125). I guess that’s good in some places but with a rent and other things, it doesn’t leave him a lot left over. He dreams of going “foreign place” as he says, like Australia or Europe to work, but his English is not so good. Along the way we stopped for dinner at McDonald’s, my treat. It’s probably the first time he’s been invited to dinner with a client, sitting at the same table, and havng the client pay for it. He deserved it. We arrived in Shimla around 10:00 and he had to turn around and go back down the hill, poor guy. We met a friend of his along the way who was driving some people up, so at least he had some company on the way back down.<br />
On my last morning in Shimla, I wanted one last walk up to the Jakhoo Temple to pray to <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L3vl_5a2tmQ/T3kStIYfUxI/AAAAAAAADaw/szOn3Xky7eg/s1600/DSC09748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L3vl_5a2tmQ/T3kStIYfUxI/AAAAAAAADaw/szOn3Xky7eg/s200/DSC09748.jpg" /></a></div>Hanuman. Early to rise and up the hill I went huffing and puffing along the way through the forest. This mountain air takes something out of me. Got up to the top amid lots of monkey activity around the main temple. They were jockeying for a prime position, and the dogs were barking at them to keep them at bay. It was breakfast time and they were looking for a handout of halwa or some other treat from the worshippers. While sititng on a bench, suddenly a monkey leapt up and snatched my glass off my face. I looked over at this monkey by a tree, my glasses dangling in his hand. There’s a trick to getting them back—you give the monkey something else and they drop the thing they’ve snatched from you. So one man handed the monkey a bit of food and voila he dropped my glasses and ran off with the food instead. Clever little system they have figured out.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EigdYkaLJ_w/T3kTzHVo3UI/AAAAAAAADa8/7O7WF7qNr60/s1600/DSC09753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EigdYkaLJ_w/T3kTzHVo3UI/AAAAAAAADa8/7O7WF7qNr60/s200/DSC09753.JPG" /></a></div> The small café I usually have tea at was open and advertised breakfast, of which there was nothing really exciting (Instant noodles for breakfast? Yuck). So I opted for tea and one last quiet moment up on the hill. My solitude was not to be for I was almost immediately joined by a Hindu wise man who had eyed me inside the temple and tried to get me to sit with him. He was one of those devout Hindus who roams form temple to temple, living off the kindness of others. Harmelss yet a little crazy. His robes were of white and orange and his hair was long and matted in the back. The café worker eyed him suspiciously as if him knew the man’s story and didn’t want him bothering me, but he was really benign. He sat with me and offered me some halwa and channa. If I couldn’t have pranthas for breakfast, I might as well have so halwa. He told me he has two brothers in Chicago and that’s about all he could tell me in English. We took a picture together, I ate osme of his food, finished my tea and was off down the hill to go pack and get to my train.<br />
One of the highlights of coming or going to Shimla is the toy train that takes you up and down the hill. Built by the British, this little train winds its way up and down the mountain. It <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DOBtkooNvAo/T3kU1V5ND-I/AAAAAAAADbI/bSaBgQfrzoc/s1600/DSC09765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DOBtkooNvAo/T3kU1V5ND-I/AAAAAAAADbI/bSaBgQfrzoc/s200/DSC09765.JPG" /></a></div>really is a pleasant train ride as you rumble slowly through the forests and small towns. It evokes the time of the Raj and in a way you are transported back to a different India. The journey is slow, about 5.5 hours but overall is worth it. In tiny cars you get to meet others and enjoy the scenery. By the last hour <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0u--bQc5KCI/T3kVM_XzaTI/AAAAAAAADbU/x7fyVh2i7Hc/s1600/DSC09791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0u--bQc5KCI/T3kVM_XzaTI/AAAAAAAADbU/x7fyVh2i7Hc/s200/DSC09791.JPG" /></a></div>everyone seems to be over the trip and ready to get off, but for most of the time, it’s a great train trip. At the end of the line in Kalka, I had about two hours to spare before my train to Delhi, so I had a<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YrS3Yg2vAy0/T3kWECKEWwI/AAAAAAAADbg/QiYGLUassng/s1600/DSC09801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YrS3Yg2vAy0/T3kWECKEWwI/AAAAAAAADbg/QiYGLUassng/s200/DSC09801.JPG" /></a></div>bite to eat and sat around people watching. It was a beautiful time to be on the station platform, in the late afternoon with the sun making its way down towards evening. I really enjoyed that time on the platform watching the different people go by. The train to Delhi was quite comfortable and they <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V48RqqLxdR4/T3kWd9YPbLI/AAAAAAAADbs/5rorw8FONik/s1600/DSC09875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V48RqqLxdR4/T3kWd9YPbLI/AAAAAAAADbs/5rorw8FONik/s200/DSC09875.JPG" /></a></div>amount of food they served was amazing. It seemed like every 10 minutes they were giving us something to eat; snacks with tea, soup, dinner, ice cream, a bottle of water. It was great. Arriving in Delhi, a driver I met last week, Ashok, came to pick me up at the station and take me to the Vishal, my home in Delhi. Some tandoori chicken and a cold beer and I was ready for bed. A nice ending to an enjoyably long day!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-90406992379860331042012-03-28T22:50:00.000-04:002012-03-28T22:50:48.307-04:00I go out walkin' after report writing...Walk, walk, walk. How I love to walk around Shimla. My legs ache in a good way form all the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gh6WwloSrPM/T3PExBEUbRI/AAAAAAAADYI/XDanznZqRc8/s1600/DSC09692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gh6WwloSrPM/T3PExBEUbRI/AAAAAAAADYI/XDanznZqRc8/s200/DSC09692.JPG" /></a></div>walking I do here. Up the hills, down the hills, along the Ridge, it’s great exercise for me. Yesterday, after an extensive report writing section, I went up to have lunch at Ashiana restaurant, a lovely round building with views of the whole town and the valleys below. After that I set off toward the Glen, a quiet spot in the forest about 3 or 4 kms away. Down a windy road through the forest, it was lovely to be somewhere in India with little to no noise. A car, bus or motorcycle would pass now and then but for the most part all I heard was the wind through the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SmQDKb_4b0I/T3PIWY_NfPI/AAAAAAAADYU/s2YWonQRpsc/s1600/DSC09670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SmQDKb_4b0I/T3PIWY_NfPI/AAAAAAAADYU/s2YWonQRpsc/s200/DSC09670.JPG" /></a></div>trees. Below me I could see Annandale, the former racetrack and polo grounds of the British, now used for cricket playing. It took about 45 mins. To reach the Glen, and it was worth it. Tall pine trees mark this spot along a hill, a path winding down into the thick cluster of scented pines. I made my way down the path for a bit until I found a bench to rest on. Finally, a place in India where one could be alone in his thoughts with no noise and no other <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g1mm01HuE_4/T3PI7aqvwYI/AAAAAAAADYg/YzjM18p8bQM/s1600/DSC09682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g1mm01HuE_4/T3PI7aqvwYI/AAAAAAAADYg/YzjM18p8bQM/s200/DSC09682.JPG" /></a></div>human being around. All I had was the sun shinng on my face and the wind making a gentle soft noise through the needles on the trees. The British used to say this place reminded them of Scotland and I could see that. Hilly, craggy with lovely views—yeah I’ve been to Scotland, I could see that. <br />
After sitting and contemplating the peacefulness of this spot, I made my way back up the winding road toward the hustle and bustle of humanity. There was some sort of protest going on by the Shimla governent building, which blocked the road so the closer to the top of the hill I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-On1DNyXKC14/T3PKDn337-I/AAAAAAAADYs/ulNJ30_gpQM/s1600/DSC09673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-On1DNyXKC14/T3PKDn337-I/AAAAAAAADYs/ulNJ30_gpQM/s200/DSC09673.JPG" /></a></div>got, the more cars were standing beeping and honking trying to get through. People were yelling and protesting about who knows what and the police were all around. Quite the contrast to my quiet solitude of 30 mins before. Along the way back, two college boys joined me as I walked up toward the Mall. They had just finished an exam and were going up to the Mall to hang out. We exchanged names, where are we from, what do they study and all the general pleasantries. Then one of them asks me how often I have sex in New York. A rather direct question to which I replied, “That’s a rather personal question.” Then I asked him how often he had sex in India to which he replied “Once.” I told the young man that he was the second person to ask me about having sex in America. He told me he read some things on the Internet about all the sex people have in the U.S., to which I replied, “People have sex all over the world.” To which he giggled and replied, “Well not in India.” To which I just laughed and changed the subject. When we got to the Mall I bid them adieu and continued on to my hotel for a bit of a rest and to enjoy some strawberries on my balcony and watch the sunset.<br />
Heading up to the Embassy for a lamb dinner, I noticed a big temple all lit up on the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-waitwslXr70/T3PKiR1JV9I/AAAAAAAADY4/L7daNt_7pcM/s1600/DSC09713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-waitwslXr70/T3PKiR1JV9I/AAAAAAAADY4/L7daNt_7pcM/s200/DSC09713.JPG" /></a></div>hillside. What was this fabulous diadem blazing in the night skyline? I must go see this place! So after dinner I made my way through the narrow lower streets of Shimla to find this temple. Most of the shops were closed oas I made my way throught the Lower Bazaar but a few stores and<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-us6F7HLeg_c/T3PLNkKOB5I/AAAAAAAADZE/twEDUjrrHQA/s1600/DSC09698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-us6F7HLeg_c/T3PLNkKOB5I/AAAAAAAADZE/twEDUjrrHQA/s200/DSC09698.jpg" /></a></div>little restaurants beckoned people in the darkness. Some boys were playing cricket in the middle of the road at one point, people going up and down the narrow stairways that link the levels of <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w9tf6PTD3HQ/T3PL_dy1YqI/AAAAAAAADZQ/-3rTYouhl8A/s1600/DSC09694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w9tf6PTD3HQ/T3PL_dy1YqI/AAAAAAAADZQ/-3rTYouhl8A/s200/DSC09694.jpg" /></a></div>streets here. Further I carried on until I saw some men hanging the sparkly gold garlands above the street. This was a sure sign that I was on the right path. I followed the road, with the garlands as my guide down until I came to my destination. The temple was all lit up like a house at Christmas<br />
time, ablaze in the night. I walked around it taking pictures, basking in its warm light. As I made my way back up the hill, I ran into a procession of holy men heading toward this temple. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_S2zjmZnPps/T3PNLohHK5I/AAAAAAAADZo/HU2mcwaxqo0/s1600/DSC09701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_S2zjmZnPps/T3PNLohHK5I/AAAAAAAADZo/HU2mcwaxqo0/s200/DSC09701.jpg" /></a></div>They were lead by their main pandit, whose picture I saw on the temple archway. We smiled and bowed at each other as we passed in the road. Further up I repeated this as I passed the local mosque on a stairway heading up to the Mall.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vPPxESCeID0/T3PNo8eCf2I/AAAAAAAADZ0/BmPHyKEgNYE/s1600/DSC09709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vPPxESCeID0/T3PNo8eCf2I/AAAAAAAADZ0/BmPHyKEgNYE/s200/DSC09709.jpg" /></a></div>Shimla is really beautiful at night and after dinner it’s great to take a stroll on the Mall to check things out. Christ Church is all lit up and high on the hill Hanuman is aglow and watching over all of us. This place closes down early and by 9/9:30, the streets roll up. So as they rolled up, I rolled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5nvc-njue1w/T3PN7D4qLjI/AAAAAAAADaA/dr-LGf3slI0/s1600/DSC09711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5nvc-njue1w/T3PN7D4qLjI/AAAAAAAADaA/dr-LGf3slI0/s200/DSC09711.JPG" /></a></div>down the hill to my hotel, buying some bananas and strawberries from the fruit vendor who was still out there selling his wares. A few more days here and it’s time to head back down the hill to the big city. Until then I’ll relish every minute here.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23140234.post-25575560868378281672012-03-27T10:52:00.000-04:002012-03-27T10:52:46.046-04:00British Colonial DreamsSunset on my balcony again, day 4 of my time in this magical place called Shimla. I’ve just <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XLMmrm9Ool4/T3HRKJ-BLwI/AAAAAAAADWo/jZMoWkdyqZo/s1600/DSC09655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XLMmrm9Ool4/T3HRKJ-BLwI/AAAAAAAADWo/jZMoWkdyqZo/s200/DSC09655.JPG" /></a></div>spent the last few hours walking from my hotel to the Vice Regent Lodge about 4 kms away. I can see it perching up on the hillside opposite my balcony, there in the distance, black against the setting sun. It’s a lovely old place, Scottish baronial they call it. Very majestic and reminiscent of the British<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XSiY6hMuIuA/T3HRiTeghFI/AAAAAAAADW0/PQQKzH8M6D8/s1600/DSC09650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XSiY6hMuIuA/T3HRiTeghFI/AAAAAAAADW0/PQQKzH8M6D8/s200/DSC09650.JPG" /></a></div>Raj days. Now it houses the Institute of Advanced Studies and is a quiet place for PhD students to research their theses. I took in the tour of the place, seeing the table where they partitioned Pakistan and India, and trying to imagine what it was like back then in the colonial days. Walking the gardens, I wondered who I would be if I lived back then. Would I be the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fqmjgojTh0M/T3HSD3iBF8I/AAAAAAAADXA/vFdz_9Gs-XE/s1600/DSC09651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fqmjgojTh0M/T3HSD3iBF8I/AAAAAAAADXA/vFdz_9Gs-XE/s200/DSC09651.JPG" /></a></div>Viceroy’s wife looking out the window of this lodge at a rainstorm in the distance, or a civil servant diligently going over his books, or a military man trotting around in his uniform atop his mighty horse. Would I look at the Indians as people or as lowly servants that wait on me? Would they be my friends or just people in the back ground as I went about my business. Those <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kv_Vvk_7Qzc/T3HSgw5ZbWI/AAAAAAAADXM/Mq34vlTo1L4/s1600/DSC09523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kv_Vvk_7Qzc/T3HSgw5ZbWI/AAAAAAAADXM/Mq34vlTo1L4/s200/DSC09523.JPG" /></a></div>were my thoughts as I wandered through the woods on my way back slowly contemplating colonial matters as the soft afternoon colors painted the sky. A cold wind blew up and the skies turned grey, threatening a rainstorm but it seemd to pass Shimla and dropped its raindrops somewhere else. The mix of smoke and incense wafted through the air as I made my way along the Ridge, past the Kali Mari temple and up to Scandal Point, the peak of Shimla. <br />
There’s an old decrepit house up there, abandoned, rotting, holding on to its former glory <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sRJookNa7q4/T3HS8hDsc0I/AAAAAAAADXY/vjm8uEPnSh8/s1600/DSC09506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sRJookNa7q4/T3HS8hDsc0I/AAAAAAAADXY/vjm8uEPnSh8/s200/DSC09506.JPG" /></a></div>that I like to stop and look at. It reminds me somewhat of Grey Gardens and I half expect the Indian version of Big and Little Edie to come out and talk to me as I stop to gaze in the broken windows and open doorways. I try to imagine what happiness was had in this house, the parties, the different people who lived in over the years and the last people who lived there and the final day they left. Was it hard for them to leave? Were they forced out for some reason? Did <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PsYimKJqu28/T3HTVRzjymI/AAAAAAAADXk/t-wvU-OqggI/s1600/DSC09508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PsYimKJqu28/T3HTVRzjymI/AAAAAAAADXk/t-wvU-OqggI/s200/DSC09508.JPG" /></a></div>the last person leave happily or sadly? Who knows, I guess I can research it and find out. But there are reports to write, essays and surveys to look over. Plus I like to imagine what happened there—it makes it more interesting.<br />
The darkness comes and the hillside begins to sparkle. There are loud voices down below and I’m half tempted to tell them to shut up. Man some people are loud. So far I’m doing my best to tune them out but a young boy yelling for his mother and father in a harsh, demanding tone is <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KRofjYhPItE/T3HTxQO3y-I/AAAAAAAADXw/xHhupZJBpms/s1600/DSC09640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KRofjYhPItE/T3HTxQO3y-I/AAAAAAAADXw/xHhupZJBpms/s200/DSC09640.JPG" /></a></div>hard to ignore. I think he’s gone quiet for now—phew! Will I dine in this evening or go out somewhere. I mixed it up today and had lunch at Nalini, the vegetarian restaurant. Maybe I’ll dine at the Embassy or the Ashiana. We’ll see. The moon is about ½ full and the first star is <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-soiA8-yHChk/T3HULCpH3XI/AAAAAAAADX8/lOpzlmV_giU/s1600/DSC09646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-soiA8-yHChk/T3HULCpH3XI/AAAAAAAADX8/lOpzlmV_giU/s200/DSC09646.JPG" /></a></div>visible right below it (remind me which one is that?). I’ve just made my wish: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may I wish I might on the first star I see tonight. Closing my eyes, I send my wish out into the world and hope it comes true. Simultaneously my Afghans are looking up back at home at the same moon and star. They’ll be finishing their evening prayers about now and I wonder if they’ll be looking up at the same moon and star, making their own wishes. It;’s the one thing that keeps us connected tonight. May my wish find its way to all of them and to the others that were included in that wish.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Read Tom Toomey's musings and adventures from around the globe. An educator/artist based in Brooklyn, Tom's office is all over the world. You'll get a kick out of Tom's varied life. Catch all the latest. Read and enjoy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0