So I Got That Going For Me. Which Is Nice.

And a quick posting dating back to my visit to Istanbul in December. Even though they are eminently cheesy, I always like those opportunities to "insure" that you'll return to a city - like rubbing the pig's snout in Florence or the dog on the Charles Bridge in Prague. However, I did pass up the opportunity to drink from the River Nile to guarantee that I would return to Egypt, for the obvious reason. So, I guess that this post chronicles somethin akin to the Turkish equivalent, except that in this case it relates to curing any lingering illnesses. In a corner of the astonishing Hagia Sophia in Istanbul there is the Weeping Pillar. You stick your thumb in a well-worn hole in the pillar and attempt to turn it 360 degrees without losing contact. Now, if you do that and your thumb gets wet then whatever is ailing you will be cured. Fortunately, I did manage to successfully make the spin without losing contact - or dislocating my shoulder - and my thumb did end up moist. I don't know if my creaky hip or sleep apnea are necessarily cured, but it did wonders for my mental health because the memory of it still makes me smile.

Home Security

After that brief trip to Oman, it's back to Zanzibar. Here's a picture of the corner of my little villa at the Dolphin Bay Resort. From the beginning I thought they looked suspiciously like evil eye symbols designed to keep away dark forces (such as the popobowa, but that's another post). A couple different times I asked folks in the restaurant or the front desk what the circles were, but they claimed to have no idea. Well, actually, they initially didn't claim to see what I was talking about, which led to me making them stand by the table while I walked the fifty yards back to my villa to touch the dots with my hand, and then tramping back to quiz them further. One of my favorite answers, given with complete sincerity, was that they were windows. After pressing them further they suggested that maybe they were "fake windows." Obviously, this is not something that they wanted to discuss. So, as is always my approach in cases like this, I went to my excellent friends Kerry Noonan and Steve Wehmeyer so that I could tap into their big UCLA brains. Kerry responded that they looked very much like the eyes/circles on boat prows. She then pointed out that even if they were now truly considered "fake windows", they still probably began as evil eyes; just as blue doors initially were designed to ward off evil spirits, but then just became an aesthetic choice (which I did not know). Anyway, it is very cool, and makes me miss Zanzibar - and Kerry and Steve - all the more.

Job's Tomb

I'll take a break from blathering on and on about Zanzibar to get caught up with some earlier posts, in this case with another place I love: Oman. It's funny how some memories are so powerful and others, even of places that you really enjoyed, somehow fade away. I was reading Colin Thubron's wonderful Shadow of the Silk Road and he starts his tale, naturally enough, in Xian, and it brought back very pleasant memories, but also memories that for some reason weren't floating very near the surface. I had very few "present" memories of Xian, and absolutely none of Beijing. It's like the month I spent in China has been completely reduced to Kasgar and far western China. Now, this may relate to the fact that I teach a class on the Silk Road, and because of my own fascination with the desert and central Asia, but it's odd how I have to make a concerted effort to dredge up seemingly amazingly memories of the Great Wall or the Forbidden City, whereas I think of Jordan or India practically every day quite naturally.

So what does that have to do with this posting on Oman? I guess it just makes me want to get more serious about posting pictures and reflections on places to help lock in those memories. It also means that you can expect some long delayed posts from China as well.

On my last trip to Oman I loved Salalah, and can't wait to go back. One of the best parts of the trip was a trip up into the foothills of the mountains to visit the tomb of Job (although, much as with the different places you can visit to see where Jesus was baptized, there are multiple claimants to this title). Job, or Ayyub as he is known in the Quran, is one of those characters wherein subtle differences in interpretation can tell us a lot about the differences between the monotheistic faiths. In Judaism Job has served as something akin to a tool that Jews have used to sharpen their faith by struggling with the question of why bad things often happen to good people. As Job struggles with the question and remonstrates with God it represents our own challenge to understand the complexity of monotheism. In Islam Job is rewarded because his faith never wavers, so you have a definite, although seemingly subtle, difference that tells us a lot about the two religions. It's also interesting because Satan in the Old Testament version of the story is so much diffrerent than the later Christian concept of the Devil, but that's another story.

It is an easy, and well-marked, drive up to the tomb and is barely an hour from downtown Salalah. Plus, you get the benefit of seeing dozens and dozens of camels loafing along the road. There is a mosque there, as seen in the first picture with the flowers, but the tomb itself is smaller and around in the back. I was there on a Friday morning, which probably explained why there were so many folks praying there. I didn't see any women inside the tomb, although I don't really know if they are forbidden. Just inside the front door an older religious scholar seemed to be in charge, but didn't say a word to me other than exchanging a polite smile. Outside the tomb, and completely unmarked, is what appears to be the entrance to a cistern, but is really a walled monument that protects the footprints of Job.

Recently I came across another retelling of a trip to the tomb on another blog, which was embarrassingly disrespectful of the Islamic story of Job/Ayyub, and, for that matter, Islam. I guess I just don't understand that level of smug self-importance, although I probably should. Christianity does not have a particularly strong history of tolerance, which is amazing when you consider how much Jesus stressed the concept in the Sermon on the Mount. Even with some well-documented short-comings, which, truthfully, are usually societally/culturally rather than religiously based, Islam has always been a much more tolerant faith. As the Quran stresses, we are all Peoples of the Book. Anyway, if you're in Oman you should definitely make a trip to Salalah and a sojourn out to Job's tomb. It's a moving experience.

Serenity - or Not Fighting with Monsters

You should expect way too many pictures like this one, although I suspect that's not really a bad thing. At the Dolphin Bay Resort there is a long dock that stretches out into the Indian Ocean, which is probably quite busy during the high season. Fortunately for me, as it was the low season it was lovely and deserted. In the late afternoon, when the flies became too annoyingly persistent, I would grab my Kindle and make my way out to the end of the dock to read. The gentle winds provided a cool respite from the heat as well as keeping the flies at bay. Inevitably I ended up staying until the sun went down, and I'm sure I snapped over a hundred shots of the sun going down and fishermen gliding back and forth on the waves. Beyond enjoying the beauty of the place, however, it also made me think about the impact of beauty. In Beyond Good and Evil Nietzsche reminds us that, "He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into the abyss the abyss also gazes into you." I know that my philospher friends Kite and Capone will roll their eyes at the mention of Nietzsche (of course, they also roll their eyes at Marcus Aurelius so, really, can they be trusted?) but I do think there is an important point here that is lost when Nietzsche is popularized (and trivialized). Now, having said that, does it also work the other way? That is, when you gaze into beauty does beauty also gaze into you? So, when I came back from Zanzibar was I actually a better person, not because I was relaxed, but because I came into contact with beauty and let it wash over me? If that is true then it's not really necessary to head off to Zanzibar (although I am much in favor of it), but instead to pursue beauty actively in your everyday life. Sometimes when I come back from the Middle East I will download a program onto my computer that automatically plays the Islamic call to prayer five times a day. It's not that I take time to pray, per se, but rather as a reminder to take a break from the trivial grind of day to day life and focus on something more transcendent. Maybe if we all took more opportunities to gaze into the beautiful, no matter how you define it, we would in turn be more beautiful. Any student who has ever suffered through a class with me has heard me repeat Rumi's admonition to "judge a moth by the beauty of its candle"; that is, judge a society (or person, for that matter) by what it holds beautiful. Now, does it matter what they hold as beautiful or just that they hold something as beautiful? I am enough of a snob to think that it would be much better if the definition of beauty focused on something transcendent or spiritual as compared to something that can be surgically augmented. No matter how one defines it, I think that Zanzibar did me a world of good. Or, to paraphrase Scrooge's nephew on Christmas, "I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

Breezes of Zanzibar

Sometimes it takes a while to come back from a holiday trip, and in some instances maybe you don't ever come back. I don't think I've quite reached the stage of the latter in regards to my recent trip to Zanzibar, but it has definitely been dominating my thoughts. Part of it relates to some great emails I've been swapping with my friend Trish, who should really recount some of your own Zanzibar stories in her cool blog, and my student Katie (although that mainly relates to her hectoring me for more pictures of tortoises). Some of my memories are related to very tangible objects, such as dolphins or monkeys or tortoises or the winding streets of Stone Town, but I also keep reflecting on more ethereal things like the gentle breezes that kept blowing in off the Indian Ocean. I couldn't quite get a picture of the wind itself, so here is a dhow riding the wind.

Gas Queue Redux

One of the things that does my head in (to paraphrase my British friends) about living here is the absolute paucity of gas stations. Seriously, how can one of the world's leading oil producers have so few gas stations? Granted, they're a lot nicer than the ones in the US. They're much cleaner, feature better food and are all full-service, but there are simply not enough of them. To be fair, out here in the area of the campus and out towards Yas Island we're in a fairly new and developing area so maybe ADNOC will respond to the need and build more. Still, the queue this morning was so long that I finished listening to all of Elgar's Cello Concerto while waiting. The guys who work the station are actually very hard-working and efficient, so it was mainly the result of the crush of cars.

Emperor of Yas Island

Played to the tune of the Emperor of Wyoming. The Remnants have officially disbanded and I am the only one left out on Yas Island. Tony left two months ago at the beginning of the new term and is back in Portugal; Laura received a full-time position at Zayed and already has her new place downtown; Liane is currently in Ireland and will eventually make her way to New Zealand (although she, like Laura, has been hired full-time and will be back teaching at the Dubai campus in the fall); Peter is back in Sri Lanka; and Tanja is heading back to Serbia (although she also received a full-time job and will be back teaching here at the Abu Dhabi campus in the fall). I have a sinking suspicion that Tony and Peter will be back in the fall as well. Of course, I already miss them all, and it's strange to have Yas to myself (well, there are the ostriches, but that's another story . . .).