Ok, so continuing yesterday's saga...
After our discovery of the Muslims, Ali and I came home, changed and headed to the bio bay. Ok so what exactly is the bio bay? Well its this teeny tiny organism that is in the water, like hundreds of thousands of them. And in the dark, they glow on contact. According to our guide, there's about 300 - 700 thousand of these lil' guys in a gallon of water!
So, Mosquito Bay (they call it that for a reason) - is a protect environment, so the only way to take this tour is through kayaks or an electric boat. We decided to be brave and go with the kayaks. Now I was nervous, I mean me and Ali on one kayak? The guide assured us that it would not be an issue... so off we went.
There were about 14 of us, all couples. We parked our cars in the beach parking lot, and then loaded up in a van. It took us about 20 minutes to drive to the bay. There was no paved road, just dirt, the forest, the pot holes, and us. Once we got to the bay, we loaded up in our kayaks and starting making our way to the center (and deepest) part of the bay.
Mosquito Bay is about 8 times more saltier than the regular ocean. And you could smell it right when you get there. The evening began to become darker by the time we got to the center of the bay. Now I was really nervous. I mean, I love to swim. But swimming in an ocean full of creatures in the dark, is a whole other story. But I couldn't resist, so eventually I jumped in. And I'm SO glad that I did. There's no way to describe this experience except to do it! You're in the water, its pitch black, and everytime you move you're arms of legs, the water around you glows. It really glows! (Google the pics of it and you'll see, it actually looks like that!) What's more amazing is when you lift your arm or chest just slightly above the water, you see them individually - it'll tiny glowing specs all over you!
Now getting back on the kayak, well that was not so fun. It took all my strength PLUS Ali pushing my butt to get me back on that stupid thing. But finally, I was on, and we paddled back to shore.
It was a bit scary, but totally worth it! Totally.
May 19, 2010
May 18, 2010
Real Vacation: Day 2, Beaches, Burns, Bugs, and Bonds
It was not raining today. And thank GOD for that! So here it is:
After a refreshing nights sleep, we had only 2 things on our "to do" list for today: beaches and bio bay. And let me tell you, there is a lot that happened between those two "to do's".
So around 11, we head out to explore the beaches Vieques is famous for. Untouched, serene, and most importantly secluded. So we drove across the island (a whole 6 miles) to the Wildlife Refuge and started beach scoping.
First stop, Red Beach - although very beautiful, it was pretty crowded today. And by crowded, I mean there were about 10 people on it. So we kept going. Next stop, "Secret" Beach (that's what they call it on the map!) - now this was a beach I fell instantly in love with. Beautiful blue waters, wonderful calm waves, great shade, and mostly importantly, completely empty (well almost, one couple sat about a football field away from us). This was it. So we set up camp in an almost private alcove and relaxed away. The next two hours were bliss. Swimming, reading, lunching, and sun bathing. Need I say more? Of course the one thing that went wrong is that we didn't nearly put on enough sun block, so Ali and I are both mighty pink at the moment.
After about three hours, we decided to scale the rest of the beach before heading home to freshen up for our bio bay tour. So we drove around to the Blue Beach, the Orchid Beach, all beautiful, all amazingly secluded. If you are a woman who wears hijab, this is the island to go vacationing on.
On our drive home, we passed by that store I told you about yesterday - you know, the one with the Hijabi Woman and moon n' crescent on the sign? So we decide to stop and take a look. We go in, there's a couple women in there, and a LOT of shoes. So I ask the lady at the counter, "Is this your store?" She doesn't speak very much English, but manages to tell us that "Ratiba" is at her other store called "Washington" which is down the street. So we go down the street, and find the store. I walk in while Ali looks for parking. There's an old man sitting by the counter, he looks like a teddy bear with full white beard. "Assalamu Alaikum," he says, smiling. "Wa'alikum Salaam, Is Ratiba here?" He smiles, motions to say that she's coming. Then he says in Arabic, "Do you speak Arabi?" No, I reply. There's another lady at the counter, who speaks Engligh, I tell her that we saw the sign on the other store, and wanted to stop by and say hello. Just then, Ratiba drives up, and the teddy bear Ammu (that's what I'll call him from now on, which means uncle in Arabic) goes to park the car while she comes in. Ratiba takes one look at me and smiles. She recognizes me. But from where?
Flashback: On the way to Puerto Rico, our flight out of Chicago was delayed by 2 hours. While waiting for the flight, Ali and I sat across this woman and her son. They spoke in Arabic, smiled, and greeted us, like is normative for Muslims to do, even when you don't know one another. This was Ratiba and she was on our flight from Puerto Rico.
So once Ratiba and I have figured out how we know each other. We get to the details. She is a Puerto Rican convert, married to a Palestinian, Ammu. They have eight kids and have lived in Vieques for 37 years. They are the only Muslim family in town. Every friday they take the ferry to the main island for Jummah prayers. They are A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E.
Of their eight children, a couple live in Chicago. We inquired which suburbs or neighborhood they lived in. Ratiba can't remember the name, so decided to call her daughter, Hanaan. In a quick conversation over the phone, we discover that she lives in the suburb of... wait for this one... FRANKFORT. Yes, that's right, the boo foo lil' town of Frankfort about 30 miles south of Chicago. And she lives about a mile away from my parents. Um, yea. I don't even know what to call this... fate? Karma? Who knows!
True to Arab hospitality, they invite us over for dinner. So that's where we'll be tomorrow night!
More on the bio bay tour tomorrow, I'm too tired to type up that saga tonight... see ya!
After a refreshing nights sleep, we had only 2 things on our "to do" list for today: beaches and bio bay. And let me tell you, there is a lot that happened between those two "to do's".
So around 11, we head out to explore the beaches Vieques is famous for. Untouched, serene, and most importantly secluded. So we drove across the island (a whole 6 miles) to the Wildlife Refuge and started beach scoping.
First stop, Red Beach - although very beautiful, it was pretty crowded today. And by crowded, I mean there were about 10 people on it. So we kept going. Next stop, "Secret" Beach (that's what they call it on the map!) - now this was a beach I fell instantly in love with. Beautiful blue waters, wonderful calm waves, great shade, and mostly importantly, completely empty (well almost, one couple sat about a football field away from us). This was it. So we set up camp in an almost private alcove and relaxed away. The next two hours were bliss. Swimming, reading, lunching, and sun bathing. Need I say more? Of course the one thing that went wrong is that we didn't nearly put on enough sun block, so Ali and I are both mighty pink at the moment.
After about three hours, we decided to scale the rest of the beach before heading home to freshen up for our bio bay tour. So we drove around to the Blue Beach, the Orchid Beach, all beautiful, all amazingly secluded. If you are a woman who wears hijab, this is the island to go vacationing on.
On our drive home, we passed by that store I told you about yesterday - you know, the one with the Hijabi Woman and moon n' crescent on the sign? So we decide to stop and take a look. We go in, there's a couple women in there, and a LOT of shoes. So I ask the lady at the counter, "Is this your store?" She doesn't speak very much English, but manages to tell us that "Ratiba" is at her other store called "Washington" which is down the street. So we go down the street, and find the store. I walk in while Ali looks for parking. There's an old man sitting by the counter, he looks like a teddy bear with full white beard. "Assalamu Alaikum," he says, smiling. "Wa'alikum Salaam, Is Ratiba here?" He smiles, motions to say that she's coming. Then he says in Arabic, "Do you speak Arabi?" No, I reply. There's another lady at the counter, who speaks Engligh, I tell her that we saw the sign on the other store, and wanted to stop by and say hello. Just then, Ratiba drives up, and the teddy bear Ammu (that's what I'll call him from now on, which means uncle in Arabic) goes to park the car while she comes in. Ratiba takes one look at me and smiles. She recognizes me. But from where?
Flashback: On the way to Puerto Rico, our flight out of Chicago was delayed by 2 hours. While waiting for the flight, Ali and I sat across this woman and her son. They spoke in Arabic, smiled, and greeted us, like is normative for Muslims to do, even when you don't know one another. This was Ratiba and she was on our flight from Puerto Rico.
So once Ratiba and I have figured out how we know each other. We get to the details. She is a Puerto Rican convert, married to a Palestinian, Ammu. They have eight kids and have lived in Vieques for 37 years. They are the only Muslim family in town. Every friday they take the ferry to the main island for Jummah prayers. They are A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E.
Of their eight children, a couple live in Chicago. We inquired which suburbs or neighborhood they lived in. Ratiba can't remember the name, so decided to call her daughter, Hanaan. In a quick conversation over the phone, we discover that she lives in the suburb of... wait for this one... FRANKFORT. Yes, that's right, the boo foo lil' town of Frankfort about 30 miles south of Chicago. And she lives about a mile away from my parents. Um, yea. I don't even know what to call this... fate? Karma? Who knows!
True to Arab hospitality, they invite us over for dinner. So that's where we'll be tomorrow night!
More on the bio bay tour tomorrow, I'm too tired to type up that saga tonight... see ya!
May 17, 2010
Real Vacation
As I type this right now, I can hear a hundred different sounds outside my window. The wind, the bugs, and the waves. That's pretty much was Vieques sounds like all the time.
Ali and I flew into San Juan last night. This morning after an hour long cab ride and an hour long ferry ride, we finally walked on the island called Vieques. I was warned before I got here about the roosters, chickens and wild horses everywhere, but it still surprises me.
We were met at the ferry terminal by Ian, our gracious host, and drove to get our rental car. After unloading and freshening up at our fabulous "hotel" - actually its more like a little complex of condo units called "At The Waves" - we were off exploring the city in search of food and supplies.
As we were driving around looking for the super market, I saw the strangest thing. A store, with clothes and shoes mainly, a lady at the counter. The store front had a sign, in spanish of course, so I have no idea what it said. Next to the writing, theres a woman, covered in hijab along side a crescent and star. I did a double take. A Muslim clothing store, here on Vieques where only 10,000 people live? Seemed kind of unreal. I plan to swing by them tomorrow, so more on that later.
Ali and I finally did find the grocery store. We parked a block away, and started walking. As we cross the street, a truck that was passing by us stop. And the man driving motions for Ali to come near him. I was nervous, what the heck does he want with us? And then I hear the dude say to Ali:
"You speak spanish?" Ali: "NO." Man: "You feel comfortable here. If you need anything ask people." Ali: "Ok, thanks man." Man: "It's good to have you here, brother." And then he drove off.
Umm. What? Yea that's what I was thinking. Now that was a sharp contrast to the hospitality we received at a local restaurant later. First, let me tell you, this place was FILLED with American expats. I mean like the place was filled with people from all over the states. There was not one Puerto Rican in that room. And that room was cold. Just a hello and what would you like to eat. After trying to make conversation for a few minutes, I gave up. Thank god we had our order to go.
So we came back to our little prelude to heaven, and inhaled our lunch/dinner before we went for a walk along the beach in front of our place. It's the northern side of the island, so the sea is rougher, and the beach is pebbley. The sun was just beginning to set, and time was coming in. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. But I have a feeling, I'm going to see a lot of those this week.
More tomorrow... hopefully we actually get to swim on a beach (God willing) if there is no rain!
Ali and I flew into San Juan last night. This morning after an hour long cab ride and an hour long ferry ride, we finally walked on the island called Vieques. I was warned before I got here about the roosters, chickens and wild horses everywhere, but it still surprises me.
We were met at the ferry terminal by Ian, our gracious host, and drove to get our rental car. After unloading and freshening up at our fabulous "hotel" - actually its more like a little complex of condo units called "At The Waves" - we were off exploring the city in search of food and supplies.
As we were driving around looking for the super market, I saw the strangest thing. A store, with clothes and shoes mainly, a lady at the counter. The store front had a sign, in spanish of course, so I have no idea what it said. Next to the writing, theres a woman, covered in hijab along side a crescent and star. I did a double take. A Muslim clothing store, here on Vieques where only 10,000 people live? Seemed kind of unreal. I plan to swing by them tomorrow, so more on that later.
Ali and I finally did find the grocery store. We parked a block away, and started walking. As we cross the street, a truck that was passing by us stop. And the man driving motions for Ali to come near him. I was nervous, what the heck does he want with us? And then I hear the dude say to Ali:
"You speak spanish?" Ali: "NO." Man: "You feel comfortable here. If you need anything ask people." Ali: "Ok, thanks man." Man: "It's good to have you here, brother." And then he drove off.
Umm. What? Yea that's what I was thinking. Now that was a sharp contrast to the hospitality we received at a local restaurant later. First, let me tell you, this place was FILLED with American expats. I mean like the place was filled with people from all over the states. There was not one Puerto Rican in that room. And that room was cold. Just a hello and what would you like to eat. After trying to make conversation for a few minutes, I gave up. Thank god we had our order to go.
So we came back to our little prelude to heaven, and inhaled our lunch/dinner before we went for a walk along the beach in front of our place. It's the northern side of the island, so the sea is rougher, and the beach is pebbley. The sun was just beginning to set, and time was coming in. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. But I have a feeling, I'm going to see a lot of those this week.
More tomorrow... hopefully we actually get to swim on a beach (God willing) if there is no rain!
Jul 1, 2009
Stuck in a moment
Alright, so I've yet again decided that it is time for me to write. And write often. The last year has been one of those moments I just got stuck in. The routine became more than a routine, it became a lifestyle. Wake up at 5:30-6:00am, drive to the south side where Ali would drop me off at the Red line before heading to his school, then I would take the train to Greek town where the IFYC office is located. Listening to my ipod, I hoped to get a seat every morning, so that I wouldn't have to stand for the 30 minute ride into the city. In the evenings, Ali would get off of school at 4:00pm and come get me around 5:30pm. Then we would sit through rush hour traffic until we got home about an hour later. Needless to say, I never have much energy to do anything on weeknights anymore.
Makes you tired just reading about it doesn't it?
Well, today was one of those mornings. I was sitting in the third car of the train and looking out the window to the jammed expressway when an unexpected song began to play in my ears. It was "These are the days" by 10,000 Maniacs. I was instantly transported to my A.P. English class, senior year at Carl Sandburg High School.
It was the first day of classes in August 1997. I was nervous. Another year to get through in suburban Orland Park, IL where my family had migrated to just over a year ago. Most of that day was uneventful. To be honest I don't remember much of it. There was something different about 7th hour. As I sat down at my desk, I started to look around the room. A few familiar faces, a few knew ones. Mr. B was sitting on his desk in the far corner of the room, guitar in hand. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I was in the wrong class. This was A.P. English, wasn't it? As I pulled out my schedule to check the room number, Mr. B welcomed us. It was A.P. English, and I will remember it as the best high school course I ever had.
That sunny afternoon in 1997, we began our senior year with song "These are the days" by the 10,000 Maniacs. It wasn't the first time I had heard it. But as the lyrics went on, a sense of confidence spread inside of me, and the walls of that class became my sanctuary for the rest of that year.
Listening to this song on the train again this morning, reminded of that sense of being content and confident I had once discovered in that classroom.
I long to return to that place again.
Makes you tired just reading about it doesn't it?
Well, today was one of those mornings. I was sitting in the third car of the train and looking out the window to the jammed expressway when an unexpected song began to play in my ears. It was "These are the days" by 10,000 Maniacs. I was instantly transported to my A.P. English class, senior year at Carl Sandburg High School.
It was the first day of classes in August 1997. I was nervous. Another year to get through in suburban Orland Park, IL where my family had migrated to just over a year ago. Most of that day was uneventful. To be honest I don't remember much of it. There was something different about 7th hour. As I sat down at my desk, I started to look around the room. A few familiar faces, a few knew ones. Mr. B was sitting on his desk in the far corner of the room, guitar in hand. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I was in the wrong class. This was A.P. English, wasn't it? As I pulled out my schedule to check the room number, Mr. B welcomed us. It was A.P. English, and I will remember it as the best high school course I ever had.
That sunny afternoon in 1997, we began our senior year with song "These are the days" by the 10,000 Maniacs. It wasn't the first time I had heard it. But as the lyrics went on, a sense of confidence spread inside of me, and the walls of that class became my sanctuary for the rest of that year.
Listening to this song on the train again this morning, reminded of that sense of being content and confident I had once discovered in that classroom.
I long to return to that place again.
Nov 28, 2007
It's been a while...
...since i've written... well, to say the least my life has taken many significant shifts in the past few months. The most of important of them has been falling in love, with my friend, my husband, Ali.
Many things still haven't changed. My mother still bugs me about how I'm not fully "qualified" in the kitchen to be a wife, I'm still obsessed with facebook, I still like chocolate, and cab drivers still ask me where I'm really really from.
Sep 15, 2007
Old Books, Old Stories
I collect used children's books. I bought my first one in Minneapolis last october as a birthday present to myself. It was a 1932 edition of the "Secret Garden". Since then I have slowly gathered small collection of used children's books from various towns/cities that I've travelled to. A couple weekends ago, my friends and I went white water rafting in Wisconsin. On our way home from the river, we stopped in a little antique store that also sold home-made fudge. I think we mostly stopped there for the fudge, but as soon as we walked in the door, I noticed the 2 shelves of used children's books in the corner. After a few minutes of browsing through every major disney publication from the 1970's, I finally found it: Andersen's Fairy Tales.
It is a collection of Hans Christian Andersen's stories. The once green cover now has a faded grey tinge to it. The binding is coming apart, the pages have faded to a yellow tea-stained shade. The red color of the letters on the cover still holds some of its original brightness.
I decided to flip through the book today, maybe read a few stories. For most part I found most of my childhood favorites except the Little Mermaid, which was not included in this collection. I also found two umexpected surprises - newspaper cuttings from the local newpaper of Amberg, WI. The first was a poem by Charles L. H. Wagner called "Mother". The second was an announcement and it read:
"Miss Jeanette Huebner has been engaged to teach in the Amber school in place of Mrs. Edward Retor who has resigned and will move to Davenport, Iowa, where her husband will take a course in the Palmer school of chiropractic."
This is part of the excitement of buying a used book - it is filled with stories other than the ones in print. I wonder if the two cut outs are related. I wonder who the owner of this book was, and how they were accquainted with Miss Jeanette or Mrs. Edward. Perhaps the child who owned this book was a student of one of those teachers, or maybe a family member? I will never know, but a part of their story now resides in my suburban home some 50 years later.
There is no printing date on this book. But after doing a little bit of research on the company that printed it, I've figured out that it is older than 1949. For now I leave you with the peom I found within it's pages:
It is a collection of Hans Christian Andersen's stories. The once green cover now has a faded grey tinge to it. The binding is coming apart, the pages have faded to a yellow tea-stained shade. The red color of the letters on the cover still holds some of its original brightness.
I decided to flip through the book today, maybe read a few stories. For most part I found most of my childhood favorites except the Little Mermaid, which was not included in this collection. I also found two umexpected surprises - newspaper cuttings from the local newpaper of Amberg, WI. The first was a poem by Charles L. H. Wagner called "Mother". The second was an announcement and it read:
"Miss Jeanette Huebner has been engaged to teach in the Amber school in place of Mrs. Edward Retor who has resigned and will move to Davenport, Iowa, where her husband will take a course in the Palmer school of chiropractic."
This is part of the excitement of buying a used book - it is filled with stories other than the ones in print. I wonder if the two cut outs are related. I wonder who the owner of this book was, and how they were accquainted with Miss Jeanette or Mrs. Edward. Perhaps the child who owned this book was a student of one of those teachers, or maybe a family member? I will never know, but a part of their story now resides in my suburban home some 50 years later.
There is no printing date on this book. But after doing a little bit of research on the company that printed it, I've figured out that it is older than 1949. For now I leave you with the peom I found within it's pages:
Mother
The years are silvering her hair,
But not her soul;
Her eyes reveal the youth still there
And in control.
The years make faltering her feet,
But not her mind;
For wisdom's words she voices sweet,
With love inclined.
The years have robbed her cheeks of bloom,
But her bright smile
Still drives away the clouds and gloom
That age defile.
The years have stolen lips of red,
But oh, her voice,
Yet colorful, brings joy instead -
By far my choice.
The tyrant years have failed indeed
To steal her charms;
I'm still a child, and years recede
When in her arms.
The years are silvering her hair,
But not her soul;
Her eyes reveal the youth still there
And in control.
The years make faltering her feet,
But not her mind;
For wisdom's words she voices sweet,
With love inclined.
The years have robbed her cheeks of bloom,
But her bright smile
Still drives away the clouds and gloom
That age defile.
The years have stolen lips of red,
But oh, her voice,
Yet colorful, brings joy instead -
By far my choice.
The tyrant years have failed indeed
To steal her charms;
I'm still a child, and years recede
When in her arms.
Sep 9, 2007
Along the Peshtigo River
The stars were crowded in the sky, miles of flowing black velvet studded with twinkling jewels. I stared up at Cassiopeia through the car window, her imperfect jagged "w" shined brighter in this sky. When we finally found our cabin, it was almost midnight. There are no street lights in these parts, and in the shadow of a moonless sky, it was near impossible to read the small street signs.
And then I heard it. As soon as I stepped out of the car, the sound of the gushing Peshtigo, whispering secret messages to the stones in its path. It's the kind of sound that could fill anyone with wonder. It was a constant calming sound, like the rhythm of dhikr mending a broken heart.
We spent the day white water rafting on the Menominee River, some forty minutes away from our cabin. (another entry on the actual rafting experience will follow...) Upon our return, it was time to explore the area around us, so we set out hiking along the Peshtigo.
The path was uncarved, slushy and unpredictable. Some areas were dense with over grown tree roots, slippery leaves, and rocks covering most of the sleek path. Ocassionally there were clearings on the banks, with large stones that could sit on. I came across such a clearing, and stopped to spend some time sitting on the river bank. I just stared at the water, fascinated by it's movement, the way it weaved through the rocky river bed. I don't know how long I sat there, however I do know that they were some of the best moments I've had in a long time.
And then I heard it. As soon as I stepped out of the car, the sound of the gushing Peshtigo, whispering secret messages to the stones in its path. It's the kind of sound that could fill anyone with wonder. It was a constant calming sound, like the rhythm of dhikr mending a broken heart.
We spent the day white water rafting on the Menominee River, some forty minutes away from our cabin. (another entry on the actual rafting experience will follow...) Upon our return, it was time to explore the area around us, so we set out hiking along the Peshtigo.
The path was uncarved, slushy and unpredictable. Some areas were dense with over grown tree roots, slippery leaves, and rocks covering most of the sleek path. Ocassionally there were clearings on the banks, with large stones that could sit on. I came across such a clearing, and stopped to spend some time sitting on the river bank. I just stared at the water, fascinated by it's movement, the way it weaved through the rocky river bed. I don't know how long I sat there, however I do know that they were some of the best moments I've had in a long time.
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