Al Hamdulilah! As of this morning, my visa has officially been extended! As some of you may know, due to our visa trouble in August, we ended up arriving here with the promise of a year long visa, but only a one month visa in hand. The plan was to have an appointment at the Ministry of the Interior to officially get our year-long visas.
After much work and frustration, we managed to obtain a coveted appointment at the Ministry and so we headed into downtown Il Quds (Jerusalem) to get our visas (inshallah). After some waiting and processing we did manage to get our promised visas in hand, so we are now officially allowed to stay in country until late July! I am very thankful to our supervisors and everyone who helped us to jump through the bureaucratic hoops! Shukran!
Monday, October 24, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
It's A Small World After All
I know it's cliche, but seriously. It's a small world.
On Tuesday night I went to the Friend's (Quaker) Meetinghouse in Ramallah where a Swedish choir taught the Palestinian international choir with whom I'm singing a joyful, South African song, complete with choreography. Since the Palestinian international choir consists of at least five nationalities, (German, American, Swedish, Palestinian, Jordanian and Spanish), our choir alone is like the EU. Add in the South African song/dance, the Swedish choir and the Friend's and you have a regular global event!
On Wednesday our joint choirs performed the aforementioned song to a sizable audience in Bethlehem including one of my best friends who also sang in chamber choir with me in high school.
How's that for globalization? :-)
On Tuesday night I went to the Friend's (Quaker) Meetinghouse in Ramallah where a Swedish choir taught the Palestinian international choir with whom I'm singing a joyful, South African song, complete with choreography. Since the Palestinian international choir consists of at least five nationalities, (German, American, Swedish, Palestinian, Jordanian and Spanish), our choir alone is like the EU. Add in the South African song/dance, the Swedish choir and the Friend's and you have a regular global event!
On Wednesday our joint choirs performed the aforementioned song to a sizable audience in Bethlehem including one of my best friends who also sang in chamber choir with me in high school.
How's that for globalization? :-)
Friday, October 14, 2011
Why Travel?
On Thursdays I get to help out in the 9th grade English class with an awesome teacher. She clearly loves to teach English and is good at it; she brings in YouTube videos and songs to make the lessons more meaningful and fun for her students. She also manages the herculean challenge of keeping thirty-two 14-year-olds on task.
On this particular day the students were learning about explorers, like Marco Polo as compared to modern-day travelers. Please appreciate that I kept my composure as a professional teacher while the students learned the word diarrhea. Yup. Diarrhea. The teacher merely explained that this was "an illness", with no specifics on the dirty details. Having traveled before and had some pretty wicked cases of traveler's diarrhea, I could barely keep from laughing out loud as the students listened to me say diarrhea and repeated it over and over and over. The classroom resounded with the word diarrhea for approximately five minutes during which the teacher and I were the only ones aware of the specifics of what they were saying. I deserve a small medal of honor for my adult-like composure.
Next the class discussed why people explored during Marco Polo's time and why people might travel now. For Marco Polo, the students discussed learning about new cultures, opening up new economic markets and spreading religion. When discussing why someone might travel today, they talked about looking for jobs, for marriage and for fun. In some ways, I felt as though the discussion did not do justice to the reasons why I travel.
I have been to various parts of Europe and the Middle East. I have traveled abroad for as little time as a week and, until now, the longest has been a college semester. The major factor that sets me apart from the travelers the students were imagining is that the vast majority of my journeys outside the USA have been on study abroad.
My very first time traveling abroad was when I was 16 and had the incredible chance to travel to France with my high school French class. For someone who loves French, (the language, the food, the history, the poetry, the people) France was like an amusement park designed just for me. The newspapers were in French, the menus were in French, entire bookstores were filled with French books and someone had even convinced the small children to speak French in high-pitched little voices. Awesome! Plus I got to see some of the most amazing museums and sights in Europe. The grammar I learned in class became meaningful and quite important. History and culture from textbooks became a lived experience. It was incredible and wanderlust seeped in the moment I stepped off the plane.
One of the major reasons that I chose St. Olaf College for my undergraduate degree was its excellence in study abroad. I had the opportunity to learn over the course of a January term and a whole semester. I wish I'd had the time and money to do more.
Study abroad is not the same as being a normal tourist. Although you may go to similar sights, you enter into the travel experience in a different frame of mind. This is not a vacation. Attempting to learn as much of the language as possible, even just enough to say please and thank you, is key as you're hoping to learn about the people and the culture. I always carried a small notebook and pen so that I could take notes during tours, at sights and even in restaurants or on the street; using my notes to inform my homework assignments, papers and projects. I wrote reflections essays in hostel rooms and had to make space for textbooks in my 50 lb suitcase. I craved to understand the language, the people and the culture. I sought to understand the similarities and the differences. Studying abroad as an Anthropology major is particularly rewarding since the field is designed around examining and seeking to understand human beings, it is full of tools to suspend judgement and find meaning.
My history as a student of study abroad means that I cannot travel without seeking to understand. My goal is to learn as much as possible, to try to understand, to hear the perspective of someone else. Travel can be particularly illuminating about one's own country and culture. Suddenly things that seemed normal appear bizarre. Why do Americans eat so much processed food? It doesn't taste good. It's not good for us, farmers, animals or the environment. Not everyone eats so much of it, so why do we? Travel is illuminating for realizing our place in the global context. The immense power of being American is invisible only to Americans. Everyone else knows better than we how much power we have; economically, politically, militarily and in terms of our media.
Travel is a fantastic medium for learning and that is why I travel. Although I may have my bachelor's degree, by no means am I done learning. Study abroad will always be my mindset for travel.
On this particular day the students were learning about explorers, like Marco Polo as compared to modern-day travelers. Please appreciate that I kept my composure as a professional teacher while the students learned the word diarrhea. Yup. Diarrhea. The teacher merely explained that this was "an illness", with no specifics on the dirty details. Having traveled before and had some pretty wicked cases of traveler's diarrhea, I could barely keep from laughing out loud as the students listened to me say diarrhea and repeated it over and over and over. The classroom resounded with the word diarrhea for approximately five minutes during which the teacher and I were the only ones aware of the specifics of what they were saying. I deserve a small medal of honor for my adult-like composure.
Next the class discussed why people explored during Marco Polo's time and why people might travel now. For Marco Polo, the students discussed learning about new cultures, opening up new economic markets and spreading religion. When discussing why someone might travel today, they talked about looking for jobs, for marriage and for fun. In some ways, I felt as though the discussion did not do justice to the reasons why I travel.
I have been to various parts of Europe and the Middle East. I have traveled abroad for as little time as a week and, until now, the longest has been a college semester. The major factor that sets me apart from the travelers the students were imagining is that the vast majority of my journeys outside the USA have been on study abroad.
My very first time traveling abroad was when I was 16 and had the incredible chance to travel to France with my high school French class. For someone who loves French, (the language, the food, the history, the poetry, the people) France was like an amusement park designed just for me. The newspapers were in French, the menus were in French, entire bookstores were filled with French books and someone had even convinced the small children to speak French in high-pitched little voices. Awesome! Plus I got to see some of the most amazing museums and sights in Europe. The grammar I learned in class became meaningful and quite important. History and culture from textbooks became a lived experience. It was incredible and wanderlust seeped in the moment I stepped off the plane.
One of the major reasons that I chose St. Olaf College for my undergraduate degree was its excellence in study abroad. I had the opportunity to learn over the course of a January term and a whole semester. I wish I'd had the time and money to do more.
Study abroad is not the same as being a normal tourist. Although you may go to similar sights, you enter into the travel experience in a different frame of mind. This is not a vacation. Attempting to learn as much of the language as possible, even just enough to say please and thank you, is key as you're hoping to learn about the people and the culture. I always carried a small notebook and pen so that I could take notes during tours, at sights and even in restaurants or on the street; using my notes to inform my homework assignments, papers and projects. I wrote reflections essays in hostel rooms and had to make space for textbooks in my 50 lb suitcase. I craved to understand the language, the people and the culture. I sought to understand the similarities and the differences. Studying abroad as an Anthropology major is particularly rewarding since the field is designed around examining and seeking to understand human beings, it is full of tools to suspend judgement and find meaning.
My history as a student of study abroad means that I cannot travel without seeking to understand. My goal is to learn as much as possible, to try to understand, to hear the perspective of someone else. Travel can be particularly illuminating about one's own country and culture. Suddenly things that seemed normal appear bizarre. Why do Americans eat so much processed food? It doesn't taste good. It's not good for us, farmers, animals or the environment. Not everyone eats so much of it, so why do we? Travel is illuminating for realizing our place in the global context. The immense power of being American is invisible only to Americans. Everyone else knows better than we how much power we have; economically, politically, militarily and in terms of our media.
Travel is a fantastic medium for learning and that is why I travel. Although I may have my bachelor's degree, by no means am I done learning. Study abroad will always be my mindset for travel.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
If there won't be dancing at the revolution, I'm not coming
The other day I went through Qalandia; a large checkpoint between Jerusalem and Ramallah that is infamous for its long waits and demonstrations. Perhaps what makes checkpoints particularly annoying is that you never know how long it will take to go through. Sometimes one sails through in less than 10 minutes but at other times it can take hours and hours to get through. You never know on any specific day what to expect. Checkpoints close spontaneously;
blocking access from one side to the other unless one is willing and
able to go all the way around to another checkpoint. Closures come without warning of time or location, adding to the frustration.
On this particular day, there was a long wait at Qalandia. For some reason, they were not having individuals get out of the buses to walk through the checkpoint on foot, rather they had everyone stay on the buses and checked all passports on the buses. I'm not sure if this was the cause of the delay or if it was merely a busy time of day to pass through. In any case, we sat at Qalandia for nearly an hour as our bus made its way through the checkpoint.
From what I have seen so far, the primary purpose of checkpoints is a symbolic one. They are intended to intimidate and frustrate those needing to pass through. They stand as a reminder of who wields military might in this country; a reminder that this might has the power to dictate geography. For those without this power a checkpoint is a place of submission, delay and annoyance. Checkpoints can be a place where one's plans might be thwarted or delayed just because they can be. It is no wonder they are often the sites of frustration and demonstration.
As I sat in the bus waiting, I looked over to a bus nearby that was literally rocking in place. A glance inside the bus made the source of the commotion clear; the bus was filled with older women all smiling, singing, dancing and clapping. I watched them on and off for the half hour or so that our buses were stationary beside one another. The singing, dancing and clapping continued throughout the time. These women were clearly enjoying this spare, and quite unexpected, waiting time by having a dance party. When it finally came their turn for a soldier to board the bus and check their passports, they continued to clap and sing until the soldier quieted them down.
In this place designed to impose military might, these women refused to be broken. They chose to dance and clap instead. That is resistance, and such a polite revolution too! This was not the type of event which would make headlines or even draw the attention of the soldiers, but it is the most important kind of resistance. These women showed that while they submitted in theory to the system, they refused to be broken by it. Rather than allowing the checkpoint to frustrate and annoy per its intent, they would use the opportunity to enjoy each other's company and have some fun. My Anthropology professor once quoted Emma Goldman saying, "if there won't be dancing at the revolution, I'm not coming". Sometimes the dancing itself is the revolution. These are the stories I want to tell of this place: stories of joyful and unconquerable souls.
On this particular day, there was a long wait at Qalandia. For some reason, they were not having individuals get out of the buses to walk through the checkpoint on foot, rather they had everyone stay on the buses and checked all passports on the buses. I'm not sure if this was the cause of the delay or if it was merely a busy time of day to pass through. In any case, we sat at Qalandia for nearly an hour as our bus made its way through the checkpoint.
From what I have seen so far, the primary purpose of checkpoints is a symbolic one. They are intended to intimidate and frustrate those needing to pass through. They stand as a reminder of who wields military might in this country; a reminder that this might has the power to dictate geography. For those without this power a checkpoint is a place of submission, delay and annoyance. Checkpoints can be a place where one's plans might be thwarted or delayed just because they can be. It is no wonder they are often the sites of frustration and demonstration.
As I sat in the bus waiting, I looked over to a bus nearby that was literally rocking in place. A glance inside the bus made the source of the commotion clear; the bus was filled with older women all smiling, singing, dancing and clapping. I watched them on and off for the half hour or so that our buses were stationary beside one another. The singing, dancing and clapping continued throughout the time. These women were clearly enjoying this spare, and quite unexpected, waiting time by having a dance party. When it finally came their turn for a soldier to board the bus and check their passports, they continued to clap and sing until the soldier quieted them down.
In this place designed to impose military might, these women refused to be broken. They chose to dance and clap instead. That is resistance, and such a polite revolution too! This was not the type of event which would make headlines or even draw the attention of the soldiers, but it is the most important kind of resistance. These women showed that while they submitted in theory to the system, they refused to be broken by it. Rather than allowing the checkpoint to frustrate and annoy per its intent, they would use the opportunity to enjoy each other's company and have some fun. My Anthropology professor once quoted Emma Goldman saying, "if there won't be dancing at the revolution, I'm not coming". Sometimes the dancing itself is the revolution. These are the stories I want to tell of this place: stories of joyful and unconquerable souls.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)