Here's a picture I snapped at the Rainbow Camp on the recent Jordan trip. Every year Suleyman makes improvements (two years ago on our last trip it was Wifi), and this year he was eager to show me that he had installed windows in all the tents. Here's the view out of window, looking out toward the rock face.
Here's a picture of my friends Cindy and Cyndi that I've been meaning to post for a while. It was close to the beginning of the fantasy football season and we needed to determine the draft order of the Sportsball League, which is the shadow league to the long-standing Twin Peaks League. We didn't need to determine the draft order for the TPFL because that is done by Sylvie Maple, the daughter of my friends Andy and Heidi, who draws names out of a hat (SM is actually the league commissioner, taking over for her mother, which is why I'm the Acting Assistant Commissioner). Cindy and Cyndi and I met at Klinger's Bakery for the official drawing for the SL.
On my recent trip to Austin I was looking at the schedule at the auditorium where Austin City Limits is filmed and saw that Gaelic Storm was coming soon. I snapped a picture and sent it to my friend Steve, who is one of the founding members (before leaving to get his PhD). Steve got right back to me and told me that while I was in Austin I should track down Heritage Boots, which was founded by another member of the band. Of course, I nodded my head and paid no attention to it, until, as Jack and I were roaming around one day, I looked down a side street and saw the sign for Heritage Boots. Sometimes life is exactly like a Dickens novel. As it turns out Steve's friend wasn't there, but his wife was, which was a lovely surprise. It gave us a chance to swap Wehmeyer stories. I told her that we used the Wehmeyer as a verb for not answering email, and even Steve will say, "Yeah, I Wehmeyered the shit out of that email." She told me that the band still refers to a group full of loud chatty people as a "room full of Wehmeyers."
And speaking of Suleyman, here's a shot of him and my son enjoying a cup of tea in the Wadi Rum, next to the natural arch from the previous picture.
Yes, if you take enough picture - even a terrible photographer like me - I guess you'll eventually hit upon a great photos. The other day a friend of mine tried to argue that I'm a great photographer, whereas I pointed out, rightly, that my only talent as a photographer was putting myself in places where good photos could be taken. All of that said, I really like this picture that I snapped on the recent Jordan trip.
Just as it's amazing that in all the times I've been to Jordan I had somehow never visited Aqaba, I suppose it's equally amazing that I've not searched out more Lawrence of Arabia themed events or moments. Partially, as you might expect, Arabs have a somewhat complicated relationship with T.E. Lawrence, both appreciating his accomplishments - and his tourism value - but also fearing, quite rightly, that his legend diminishes their own role in the eyes of the non-Arab world. As we were leaving the Wadi Rum we stopped by to visit an actual Turkish train dating back to the Lawrence days. Apparently on Thursdays they reenact the attack on the train, which may have to be part of the planning for the student trips.
As we've discussed, there are different "times" in the world. My Arab friends joke about Arab Time - while my Indian friends joke about Indian Time - and my African friends joke about Africa Time. They are, as listed in the previous sentence, is descending order of certainty and specificity; in all of these different temporal realities everything that is scheduled happens, just not when they are scheduled. I remember sitting in my office in Mumbai talking to my dear friend Raj and he was talking about a meeting he had scheduled for the day with a company downtown in regards to a Champlain internship opportunity. I said that was great work, and when was the meeting scheduled. He looked at his watch and said, without a hint of irony, "Now." I responded that we had to drive all the way downtown and that it might take us an hour and a half in the infamous Mumbai traffic. He looked at me like I was a madman, but in a kind way. The point was that time was simply more fluid in India. We showed up, actually about two hours late, and the man was happy to see us and immediately ordered tea. I was thinking of that story on the recent Jordan trip and I decided why Arab Time is always slightly off is because no matter where we are - and what we're doing - we always have to stop for a huge lunch. Once I dragooned Mahmoud into getting carryout shwarma that we could feed the students on the bus, which he did (and it was fantastic) but it made him a bit grumpy. It's not that he - or Jordanians in the broader sense - don't want to get shit done, it's just that they're extraordinary hosts and it's important that their guests have an amazing time. Hence, we better stop and eat.
This is an awfully silly post, and probably a poor use of blog time and space, but for some reason this picture jumped out at me. We were sitting in traffic in Amman next to a truck and I snapped this picture. If you are new to the Middle East you'd probably find yourself asking, "WTF?" However, if you've spent enough time in the ME you'd automatically know that it's an add for takeout shwarma. It just was one of those odd little moments that reminds you that you're home.
My son sent me this picture today that he snapped in the Wadi Rum, and although I look to be around fifteen hundred years old I actually like this picture. He had just climbed to the top of a massive sand dune that had built up next to a rock outcropping and I was waiting his return. It's a nice fit for me at this stage of my life: 1) the Wadi Rum; 2) tinkering with the new camera; 3) the weathered Cincinnati Reds sweatshirt (doubtless with the weathered Rising Sun, Indiana t-shirt underneath); and 4) the weathered old man pushing stubbornly onward.
Not surprisingly, I took so many pictures of G3 on the trip, many of which will find their way to my walls. The apartment is starting to fill up with pictures, about half of which, as any parent would expect, are of my son.
As I pointed out yesterday, for some inexcusable reasoning I had never made it to Aqaba before. Our stop was way too short, although I suspect that most of the charm of the place truly related to snorkeling or diving. That said, it did have a bustling downtown area which should be a good fit for allowing the students to do some exploring on the March trip. With snorkeling in mind, the Boy and I were signed up for some time in the water. In the end I had to bail because I tweaked my back pretty thoroughly while we were still in Amman so I had to nurse it through the rest of the week (I was determined to climb the outcropping above Suleyman's camp to watch the sunset (yet again) and also to get back into Petra (which I missed out two years ago with a twisted knee), and thus I left G3 to do the snorkeling. He had a wonderful time and was stunned by the clear water and pristine views.
Looking at these pictures I'm thinking about the new apartments I saw for sale in Aqaba for 50,000 JD. Hmmm . . .
I haven't been back for twelve hours - and I'm clearly already working through some jet lag - but I miss Jordan already, and am looking forward to getting back there again in March.
On the trip we spent most of the time with our driver Mohammed (much more on him soon) but when I was looking at the itinerary I saw that Fadi and Hossam from Petra Moon Travel had assigned us a guide for our day in Petra. We had asked for a driver and not a guide for the week, so that was a little mysterious but I also appreciate how they always look after us. Also, truthfully, I had this suspicion that they might slip in Mahmoud, our long-time guide (as anyone who reads this blog - and why do you read this blog, seriously?) knows. And, sure enough, we popped down into the lobby at the Petra Moon Hotel on Thursday morning (and what better way to spend Thanksgiving than touring Petra - unless it's riding a camel through the Wadi rum and enjoying Bedouin-prepared turkey that night?) to find Mahmoud hanging out. As I've proposed, Mahmoud is the best guide we've had in any of our trips in any part of the world. Plus, in addition, he's a good friend.
My son and I made it back safe and sound - and relatively unscathed - from our Lab Rat Tour of Jordan. Mainly, I went because I wanted to spend time with him and introduce him to my favorite place on earth, but I was also interested in working through the potential obstacles (at least the ones right now) for the upcoming student trip in March. We faced some definite COVID-related obstacles, but nothing that couldn't be overcome with a little intentionality, detail-focus, and refusal to surrender (I have few virtues, but I suppose I have these in some fashion or another). It helped that we had physical copies of every conceivable document - and uploaded information into every conceivable travel app - but, overall, while at times a little frustrating if not mystifying (at several points in the trip my son and I would debrief and eventually come back around to: "And what was the point of the that app - and the hours we spent uploading info into it - again?"), but it was manageable. Expect a lot more pictures to follow.
I think this may be my favorite picture so far, but that may speak more to my love of cemeteries than its aesthetic merit.
Recently I went to Austin, Texas, which was my first time on a plane since the Zombie Apocalypse began almost two years ago. My first international flight in a long time will be this Friday, but that's another post in and of itself. I'll certainly have more to say about the Austin trip, which was wonderful. My long-time friend Jack (when did I reach the point when I can honestly say that I've had friends for fifty years?) was supposed to be taking his wife to Austin for a romantic getaway, centered around the Austin City Limits Hall of Fame Induction, but at the last minute she couldn't get off work. So, I pinch-hit. It was an absolute blur, but what an amazing time.
Like all great trips it was a combination of the planned and the unplanned, the profound and the silly. In regards to the unplanned and the silly you'd definitely have to include our trip to the Texas Toy Museum, which is located right on the main drag in Austin. We had passed it a couple times and I eventually dragooned Jack into heading there. It cost $9 to get in, but you also got unlimited free game play so it quickly paid for itself. We were going to go in for about ten minutes to say we visited, but I'm sure we stayed a couple hours. There was no great order to the place, just mainly a mosh pit of different toys, which actually worked because it felt like a trip down memory lane of my son's childhood (including the chaos).
And here's another picture from the early evening I spent down at the lake experimenting with filters.
At certain points when I'm explaining to my friends why I'm buried I'll say something like, "It began innocently enough, and I wasn't really interested in getting that involved . . .," and that's when they begin smiling. They smile because they've heard this story multiple times. It's like with the Food Shelf. It came around as an option and I was one of five or six people at the mosque who volunteered, and but when it came to an actual meeting I said, "OK, I'll send around an email invitation, but I'm just arranging the initial meeting and that's it. I'm way too busy to even think about getting involved. Fast forward a couple months and I'm volunteering four times a week, am on the advisory committee, and have a key to the building. Recently the mosque decided to open a free clinic and I volunteered, figuring that it would just show up to greet people at the door and sign them in. I was asked if I knew where we could get a couple tablets - and if I knew someone who could set up the clinic webpage - and I, of course, said that I worked with Techdren (our non-profit that brings laptops to Zanzibar) and . . . OK, so you can see where this is going. Now we meet every Friday evening at 5:30 to work out the intricacies of the webpage, which also requires a fair bit of editing material, and you know who is probably good at editing, probably a college professor . . . and . . . and . . . All of this is fine, of course, and I'm really enjoying the process - and setting up a free clinic is a wonderful gift to the community. I'm blessed to play even a small role. Mainly I'm laughing at myself.
I'm telling you though, next time when I volunteer for something I'm seriously going to just attend the first meeting and that's it . . .
A recent ex proposed, in exasperation, why all the men in her life were/are crazy (clearly I was in the frame). I responded, perilously, "What's the common denominator?" I've thought about that conversation more than a few times, including the danger inherent in the question. However, it also makes me think about my relationship with my parents. The other day, 12 November, was my mom's birthday, and I posted this picture on Facebook. If someone were to ask me to define my relationship with my mother I would have said it was complicated. When I spoke at her funeral I, gently, described her as a complicated woman. If you were going to ask me to describe my current relationship with my father I'd doubtless say, complicated. It's not that I didn't/don't love them both - and I know they loved/love me - but the relationships were never as close or full as they should have been. And this brings me back to the anecdote that began this narrative. What's the common denominator? Obviously, it's me. Marcus Aurelius always reminds us that, before we turn our analytical lens on someone else, we need to start with ourselves. I don't know if I have a good answer, although I suspect that answer probably helps explain why I'm sixty-one and living alone in a one bedroom apartment. In my imagined universe I'm the one who gives more, who tries more, who forgives more, loves more, but maybe it's exactly the opposite.
Your own mind, the Mind of the universe, your neighbour's mind - be prompt to explore them all. Your own, so that you may shape it to justice; the universe, that you may recollect what it is you are a part of; your neighbour's, that you may understand whether it is informed by ignorance or knowledge, and also may recognize that it is kind to your own.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Nine
As usual, MA is sharing some truth. Of course you should start with your own mind; as he tells us many times, always start with yourself first when you consider the deeper meaning of anything. If you start with yourself and make your primary goal one of justice then most of the wrongs that you impose on others will be eliminated. And isn't that the key? Start with living a just life, as compared to imposing justice on others. That said, always remember the role that you play in the larger whole, the universe, and never lose sight of the part that you play, and, well, try and remember what a small part you play. And only at the end turn your attention to your neighbors. How many of us start there, making our life one of comparison and envy, as comparted to considering their actions in regards to the simple question of ignorance and knowledge, and moving forward from there.
OK, here's another clumsy picture. The other day I was down by the lake to meet up with my dear, dear friend Sarah who was passing through the state. As things were breaking up I walked over to the shoreline and, for the first time, tried out one of the polarizing lenses for the camera. Unlike the upcoming trip to Jordan, I don't have buyer's remorse on spending the money on the camera (at least not yet). I want to have a better handle on it before I take a few hundred pictures in Jordan.
In a month I'll be back in Jordan. Naturally, as is often the case this far out, I'm suffering through buyer's remorse, or maybe just general exhaustion at the thought of all the hoops I have to jump through to get there. As I've discussed previously my son and I are heading over to Jordan for Thanksgiving break, essentially offering ourselves up as lab rats for the trip. In a non-Zombie Apocalypse world I'd probably still feel a slight bit of buyer's remorse, but the pandemic has made things so much more complicated. Of course, once I go and sort things out it will make the March student trip so much more manageable - so I know that in the end I'll appreciate the effort (unless I come back and decide that getting two people over and back was such a nightmare that I can't even imagine bringing over twenty people). Now, I'm also bringing my son, which will be his first trip to Jordan and only his second time out of the country, so that will also rev me up down the road. It's such a joy to spend time with your adult kids because it's so rare that we get that time, and I'm excited to share my favorite place with him.
As I mentioned in another post I recently bought a camera. It's not a fantastic camera but rather a good camera, a Nikon D3500, which is one of those classic starter cameras. Classically, it didn't come with an instruction manual, but instead you could go to a website to view the manual. They always sell it as a sign of their environmental concerns, when, obviously, they're simply trying to maximize profits. So, the learning process has been slow. All I've been doing so far in tinkering with it, measuring my level of buyer's remorse. Soon I'll start messing with the options and gadgets, with a hope of having a better idea what the hell is going on before I head over to Jordan next month. I've taken the camera out for a test drive at Greenmount Cemetery, which is close to my apartment, and then out to the Causeway. Both days were appropriately overcast, that is, a day when it's hard to fuck up pictures. I can already feel the urge to buy a bigger lens for closeups, so this will all end badly.
In death, Alexander of Macedon's end differed no whit from his stable boy's. Either both were received into the same generative principle of the universe, or both alike were dispersed into atoms.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Six
When we are in love (and I hope to feel that again someday) we act as if no one has ever felt as we feel at that moment - and when the love ends (and I hope to not feel that again someday) we act as if no one has ever suffered as we are that moment. In a way, of course, this is how we view out lives: utterly unique phenomena that change the world forever, which, of course, is absurd. Following that logic, and cycling back around to MA, wouldn't that also be true of our deaths as well? This is not to say that Alexander didn't change the world in a way that his stable boy didn't - I was just talking to my friend Kerry and Steve last night about how I'd like to teach a class on the historical and cultural influence of Alexander (as compared to what he did during his life). However, I agree with MA in that when Alexander and his stable boy lay dying, at that moment, what was happening to them, either for good or bad or nil, added up to the same thing.
And here's a picture that I snapped in Budapest. Where? I'm not certain. I'll do some research and get back to you.
No, I'm not actually going back to Ruzomberok, Slovakia (although I'd like to do so). Instead, as I've been culling through old pictures, I came across some from the painful summer that I passed through Slovakia a couple different times. Sadly, many of the Slovakia pictures were lost when my camera was swiped in Barcelona. This led me to going back into my blog and reading my posts about Slovakia, which, sadly, are few. I found a very lovely and heartfelt post about my time visiting Rozomberok and the good folks at the university there. It's inspired me to post a couple pictures of the city itself, snapped on a gloriously overcast day, but I'm think I'm going to try and reach out to my friends from there and see if they are still teaching at the university. One of my many failings as a human beings (and they are legion) is that throughout all the heartache of the last decade I've let people slip away. This blog, with all its flaws and missteps, is a lovely history record in and of itself and I'm going to mine it.
As I continue to look through old pictures I come across ones that for some reason I've never posted. Here's one from a desert jeep safari in the early days of my time in the UAE.
Anything in any way beautiful derives its beauty from itself, and asks nothing beyond itself.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Four
This reminds me of the debate between Kant and Hume about the nature of beauty that used to be a staple of the sadly discontinued COR 220. Essentially, do we appreciate beauty because we, after study, possess the education and experience to see it (Kant) or is there something inherent in the beautiful thing that we pick up on unbidden (Hume). MA seems to be coming down on the side of the latter.
Here's a picture of my friend Pedro, his friend Dickie, and some incredibly ancient dude at the SJC. One of the joys of the last couple years has been my friendship with Pedro, which started at the Food Shelf and turned into some great fun outside of it. His wife Gwen snapped this picture. People don't normally take pictures of me, and you can see why. Still, it was a lovely afternoon. Pedro normally just texts me that he's at the SJC and he's brought some of his homemade gorp (featured prominently in this shot).
