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.
