I found this picture, and feel it captures that spendidly.
It's supposedly Billie Holiday, 1946 in NY. I'm not certain of that, but it doesn't change what I think of the photo.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
''Bienvenue dans un noveau monde'' When Nkob no longer is Nkob
Today, I left my house, went to the cyber and discovered that the electricity had gone out. News to me! If you don't have electronic things, and you don't use the light because the window is open and you're in bed reading a book, you might go until the nighttime before you realize something's not normal.
Well, can't get online like I planned, so I try to find something else to do instead. Ten minutes later, I'm seated with the baker, he's having caskrut, the afternoon snack, so instead of being a customer, I'm an invited guest, manuevering into the oven room to sit, share tea and shoot the shit with this other Addi, a man with a generous smile, big dark mustache and leathery black skin. Besides us are the giant pile of wood that he needs to make his bread, several empty cigarette wrappers and large bottles of oil. In his dish is a mixture of olive oil and strawberry confiture, ''toot'' in shulhah. ''Toot yatfuut' I say, strawberry is yummy. Yatfuut bzzzaaf, he replies, very tasty!
Two others join us, one of the European Moroccans, a ten year old boy in beach shorts named Mustafa, and an older man that seems mostly blind, potentially senile. They likewise are invited to imbibe and we spend 35 minutes. Halfway through this time, I notice the light has come on again and I can hear once again the refrigerator humming in the corner. I wait some time because I know it'll take that long for the cyber owner to get back and charge everything up again.
In these moments, I brought up how, in summertime, everything's different. The town becomes two or three times larger, with all the families coming back loaded with money from Europe. They arrive in their cars, they fill the cybers and you hear them talking to each other in French. It's Nkob, but it's no longer my Nkob. And I'm no longer a native, they expect me to be a tourist, when really they are the tourists, the interlopers.
You walk outside, and don't recognize a face. But it's not the only change. Even before they came, Nkob stopped being the Nkob that I fell in love with. This makes it easier as I prepare to leave, since in a certain sense, Nkob's already left me. The old lovely things I can't find so readily anymore. Now, it'll take a new person to come and discover its new charms.
Walking back to the cyber, I notice a sign that I'd never seen before, there on main street: ''Bienvenue dans un noveau monde.'' Yes, thank you. Where do I go to find the old one?
Some changes:
--my beloved running trail is gone. It's been the home of construction,( a lengthening of the aqueduct), and now you just see piles of concrete. The path still exists, but is now located higher on the hill and is too steep for my enjoyment. Before, it was the one place that I'd retreat to, a dirt path through the palm trees before exiting onto the major road. When I was marathon-ready, running 30km several times a month, this was the one that saw me on the way out and welcomed me back on the way in.
--the Kasbah isn't the same. The owner (not my dad, he doesn't own the place), said: no more tourists here. Before, I used to go home and be happily surprised to see a Dutch family of 4, or a lone Spanish man, a group of Pollacks or else a German college student. Some of the best times has been with these people, and it helped keep things from getting stale. Now that's no longer the case, and so that's another important aspect, a definitive one of my experience here, that won't be regained before I return home.
--The Gendarmes have nearly all been replaced. I was lucky and got along very well with the old ones and these new ones don't seem as readily given to playfullness as before. My favorite remains in place, though, which I'm glad for.
--Peace Corps itself is radically different // I'm glad to be going home now. The end of an era, when PC did more work in the bled (countryside) and without such a concerted focus on the numbers of people reached.
--Good friends are no longer located in Nkob. Lahcen, the cafe mainstay, a worker at different times in three different cafes while I was here, who I spent several months teaching Spanish to, has now left for a job at a cafe in Ourzazate.
--Other students have graduated the past month and will not be in Nkob when I get back after Ramadan.
--and smaller things, like the fact that I'm now on a tourist visa now and not my official work permit. There's such little time left, there was no need to refill it; how there's no dates this year, since the weather wasn't right for good date-growing conditions in the same way it was last year; how I'll soon turn my bike in to PC, doing it on the way to camp in order to not worry about it later; how I've thrown away all the excess and find all the stuff I want to take home will fit in two boxes, instead of the two suitcases and one carry-on that I brought here with me.
Likewise, there are big changes that haven't necessarily affected the Nkob I once knew. What I mean is, the neverending construction of new houses and hotels has been a great big change in the town, and its been able to retain its basic Nkobien flavor. Five more years of that, though, and it might no longer be able to do so.
The Nkob I knew was a great one. It's no longer around, so I was glad to have come when I did.
Well, can't get online like I planned, so I try to find something else to do instead. Ten minutes later, I'm seated with the baker, he's having caskrut, the afternoon snack, so instead of being a customer, I'm an invited guest, manuevering into the oven room to sit, share tea and shoot the shit with this other Addi, a man with a generous smile, big dark mustache and leathery black skin. Besides us are the giant pile of wood that he needs to make his bread, several empty cigarette wrappers and large bottles of oil. In his dish is a mixture of olive oil and strawberry confiture, ''toot'' in shulhah. ''Toot yatfuut' I say, strawberry is yummy. Yatfuut bzzzaaf, he replies, very tasty!
Two others join us, one of the European Moroccans, a ten year old boy in beach shorts named Mustafa, and an older man that seems mostly blind, potentially senile. They likewise are invited to imbibe and we spend 35 minutes. Halfway through this time, I notice the light has come on again and I can hear once again the refrigerator humming in the corner. I wait some time because I know it'll take that long for the cyber owner to get back and charge everything up again.
In these moments, I brought up how, in summertime, everything's different. The town becomes two or three times larger, with all the families coming back loaded with money from Europe. They arrive in their cars, they fill the cybers and you hear them talking to each other in French. It's Nkob, but it's no longer my Nkob. And I'm no longer a native, they expect me to be a tourist, when really they are the tourists, the interlopers.
You walk outside, and don't recognize a face. But it's not the only change. Even before they came, Nkob stopped being the Nkob that I fell in love with. This makes it easier as I prepare to leave, since in a certain sense, Nkob's already left me. The old lovely things I can't find so readily anymore. Now, it'll take a new person to come and discover its new charms.
Walking back to the cyber, I notice a sign that I'd never seen before, there on main street: ''Bienvenue dans un noveau monde.'' Yes, thank you. Where do I go to find the old one?
Some changes:
--my beloved running trail is gone. It's been the home of construction,( a lengthening of the aqueduct), and now you just see piles of concrete. The path still exists, but is now located higher on the hill and is too steep for my enjoyment. Before, it was the one place that I'd retreat to, a dirt path through the palm trees before exiting onto the major road. When I was marathon-ready, running 30km several times a month, this was the one that saw me on the way out and welcomed me back on the way in.
--the Kasbah isn't the same. The owner (not my dad, he doesn't own the place), said: no more tourists here. Before, I used to go home and be happily surprised to see a Dutch family of 4, or a lone Spanish man, a group of Pollacks or else a German college student. Some of the best times has been with these people, and it helped keep things from getting stale. Now that's no longer the case, and so that's another important aspect, a definitive one of my experience here, that won't be regained before I return home.
--The Gendarmes have nearly all been replaced. I was lucky and got along very well with the old ones and these new ones don't seem as readily given to playfullness as before. My favorite remains in place, though, which I'm glad for.
--Peace Corps itself is radically different // I'm glad to be going home now. The end of an era, when PC did more work in the bled (countryside) and without such a concerted focus on the numbers of people reached.
--Good friends are no longer located in Nkob. Lahcen, the cafe mainstay, a worker at different times in three different cafes while I was here, who I spent several months teaching Spanish to, has now left for a job at a cafe in Ourzazate.
--Other students have graduated the past month and will not be in Nkob when I get back after Ramadan.
--and smaller things, like the fact that I'm now on a tourist visa now and not my official work permit. There's such little time left, there was no need to refill it; how there's no dates this year, since the weather wasn't right for good date-growing conditions in the same way it was last year; how I'll soon turn my bike in to PC, doing it on the way to camp in order to not worry about it later; how I've thrown away all the excess and find all the stuff I want to take home will fit in two boxes, instead of the two suitcases and one carry-on that I brought here with me.
Likewise, there are big changes that haven't necessarily affected the Nkob I once knew. What I mean is, the neverending construction of new houses and hotels has been a great big change in the town, and its been able to retain its basic Nkobien flavor. Five more years of that, though, and it might no longer be able to do so.
The Nkob I knew was a great one. It's no longer around, so I was glad to have come when I did.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Something to look forward to, once back home
the 2011-12 Met OPERA live in HD season at your local movie theatre!
http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/broadcast/hd_events_template.aspx?id=15114
Some good looking shows, especially the last 2 of the Wagner ring cycle. I should get my tickets as soon as they come on, these things sell out fast!
In one extraordinary new work, lovers of Baroque opera have it all: the world’s best singers, glorious music of the Baroque masters, and a story drawn from Shakespeare. In The Enchanted Island, the lovers from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream are shipwrecked on his other-worldly island of The Tempest. Inspired by the musical pastiches and masques of the 18th century, the work showcases arias and ensembles by Handel, Vivaldi, Rameau, and others, and a new libretto by Jeremy Sams. Eminent conductor William Christie leads an all-star cast with David Daniels (Prospero) and Joyce DiDonato (Sycorax) as the formidable foes, Plácido Domingo as Neptune, Danielle de Niese as Ariel, and Luca Pisaroni as Caliban. Lisette Oropesa and Anthony Roth Costanzo play Miranda and Ferdinand. The dazzling production is directed and designed by Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch (Satyagraha and the Met’s 125 anniversary gala).
With its cataclysmic climax, the Met’s new Ring cycle, directed by Robert Lepage, comes to its resolution. Deborah Voigt stars as Brünnhilde and Gary Lehman is Siegfried—the star-crossed lovers doomed by fate. James Levine conducts.
http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/broadcast/hd_events_template.aspx?id=15114
Some good looking shows, especially the last 2 of the Wagner ring cycle. I should get my tickets as soon as they come on, these things sell out fast!
Wagner’s Siegfried– New Production
November 5, 2011
In part three of the Ring, Wagner’s cosmic vision focuses on his hero’s early conquests, while Robert Lepage’s revolutionary stage machine transforms itself from bewitched forest to mountaintop love nest. Gary Lehman sings the title role and Deborah Voigt’s Brünnhilde is his prize. Bryn Terfel is the Wanderer. James Levine conducts.
The Enchanted Island– New Production
January 21, 2012
In one extraordinary new work, lovers of Baroque opera have it all: the world’s best singers, glorious music of the Baroque masters, and a story drawn from Shakespeare. In The Enchanted Island, the lovers from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream are shipwrecked on his other-worldly island of The Tempest. Inspired by the musical pastiches and masques of the 18th century, the work showcases arias and ensembles by Handel, Vivaldi, Rameau, and others, and a new libretto by Jeremy Sams. Eminent conductor William Christie leads an all-star cast with David Daniels (Prospero) and Joyce DiDonato (Sycorax) as the formidable foes, Plácido Domingo as Neptune, Danielle de Niese as Ariel, and Luca Pisaroni as Caliban. Lisette Oropesa and Anthony Roth Costanzo play Miranda and Ferdinand. The dazzling production is directed and designed by Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch (Satyagraha and the Met’s 125 anniversary gala).
Wagner’s Götterdämmerung
February 11, 2012With its cataclysmic climax, the Met’s new Ring cycle, directed by Robert Lepage, comes to its resolution. Deborah Voigt stars as Brünnhilde and Gary Lehman is Siegfried—the star-crossed lovers doomed by fate. James Levine conducts.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Things ok here! There was a strike one day when it was extra hot and we didn't have any water for two days. The first day, they were OK, but when they woke up and it still wasn't back, then they hit the streets. This time at my house we were not prepared at all for it, and I ran out. It's strange how you have to start reprioritizing everything, asking questions that you'd never thought of before: what's more important, having a little to brush your teeth, or to be able to flush the john? To be aware that you need to divide it up so you'll have enough for both.... To boil spaghetti and then keep the milky looking juice afterwards, just because you might need it.
I felt like a stooge, I had money so I was able to buy a Fanta. If you got money, you're OK. And even conserving, you're going through it faster than you wish. The big 5 liter jugs are unweildy, and I kicked myself when it tipped the wrong way and the water gushed out onto the floor, losing about 1/3 of it before I could upright it.
Sadly, though I figure they were able to make-do somehow, a family happened to have the final night of their wedding the day the water stopped. It's almost like the opposite of the fear Americans have: whatever else, you don't want it to rain on your wedding day. This then, was a strange inversion of that. To open the tap and you just hear a gurgle and then nothing. But then, you think: this was the time when they were making couscous (very water intensive, because you steam the couscous for 3 hours or more, which means continuously adding water whenever it gets low). But then, to think, they had to make it for 150 people or more? Even if they changed to serving tajine platters, that also relies on steaming in a big way. But that moment is past. In a way, it almost was a practice time for Ramadan, or you might say an eyeopener about what Ramadan this year will be like, in AUGUST. When, even if its there, you can't access or use it until the night falls. But at least they'll be mentally prepared for it, whereas this took them by surprise and so maybe they felt its lack more strongly.
PnL!
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