Yes, I have a personal driver

I am very happy to say that last Tuesday, after picking out CVs and interviewing 6 potential drivers (or, if you're feeling snobish, chauffeurs), my car-share buddy, K. and I hired a driver. His name is Mr. Azad. I am, and I'm sure Mr Azad is too, very glad that one more person in Bangladesh now has a job. (and a pretty decent one at that.)

When I talk to people (friends, family and the random I meet you on my travels) the fact that seems to most shock people is the fact that I have a driver. The idea that a woman (Morshida)



comes to my house 5 days a week to make me breakfast and pack my lunch, do my grocery and misc shopping, clean the entire place and do my laundry- in addition to some cooking (She made falafel today, which was just so wonderful)- seems to be wow, but not too big of a stretch of the imagination. But that I don't actually drive myself places, but sit nice and calmly in the back and just state my destination, with great door-to door service- well. That part of the story gets noticed.

Now, although I say "calmly" that is only with great effort, due to the large number of people shoving deformed limbs and starving babies up against the glass of the windows.

Not everyone has a driver here in Dhaka, but most expatriates do. And I have two solid reasons for why I hire a driver.

1) Bangladesh is a heavily populated country (half the population of the USA, in a space the size of Iowa. - and oh yeah, it floods.) And there are simply not enough jobs to go around. If I hire someone, that's one more person who can have the wonderful blessing of self esteem of being able to feed his (all drivers are male) family and earn an honest wage. I feel really good about that.



2) To drive in Bangladesh (and stay somewhat sane) you either have to be a professional driver and/ or completely devalue human life. Driving here is more like playing a video game, as you (and everyone else on the road- rickshaws, cyclists, CNGs (which are for all intents and purposes, a motorized rickshaw that looks like a green cage on wheels) cars, SUVs and crazy battered buses often with drugged up drivers) are jocking for that little space that just opened up. Just a little bit so you can advance before the next guy- and all this is done with just as much concern for human life that a 7 year old feels when s/he looses one "life" on a video game. And of course, we can't neglect the "magic hand" effect. Add to the mix a slew of pedestrians that think putting their hand out is an effect way to stop a rickshaw, CNG, car, SUV or bus coming at them at full speed as they casually meander across the road. Truly, magic if I've ever seen it. Seeing as I'm not willing to stress myself out or reduce human life to video game status, I'm very happy employing a professional who has driven in these conditions for 20+ years.

So, One more man from the mass of humanity in Bangladesh is happily employed and I will arrive safely and sanely at all my desired destinations.

My mom really is a gypsy

Okay, I know I'm totally slacking on my one photo a week goal. Technical difficulties. However, for those of you who are wondering about the title of my blog a have a recent vignette for you.

About four weeks ago, while I was traveling in Israel, my mom emailed me saying that she was thinking about teaching in an International school. In two days, she had emailed me saying she had accepted a job in Shanghai. In three weeks she packed up everything, got all her paperwork in order and jumped on a plane to China. Now she has just completed her first week in China.

This is 'normal' for my mom. Really, up in moving to Bangladesh, with a year's notice to friends and family that I was looking to teach internationally and then a nice 7 months to get used to the idea of me being in Bangladesh is just plain slow and dull compared to mom's rapid fire life change plans.

Hence, I'm only the gypsy queen's daughter- not quite the original. But, hey, I'm okay with that.

Unloved Matzah

I might seem to be an odd time of year to be hunting for matzah- the dry, cracker-like unleavened bread that Jews eat during Passover. (which is generally in the springtime) But I had a list of items to buy this summer- the basic cannot be found in Bangladesh list. It read something like this:

* Matzah for Passover
* Havdalah candles (for the end of Shabbat separation ceremony)
* Chanukiah/ Menorah and candles for Chanukah (I got travel size- perfect for me!)
* Jewish literature
* funky tights and other accessories for Glitterball (more information in October)
* lots of really good chocolate
* lots of really good chocolate
* more chocolate

Sadly, I left Israel without Matzah (really, if it´s not Passover, it´s not in high demand. Surprising, I´m sure, but true.) However, when in Berlin with my Dad, I wandered into a toy store (I love toy stores) to find a Jewish literature and ritual items corner in the back- with one box of Matzah! So I happily bough the Matzah and put it into my fancy-spancy-folds-up-really-small-to-fit-in-your-purse shopping bag.

However, this was at the beginning of the day- which meant I was destined to carry the Matzah all day. At around 3pm I left the fancy bag with the matzah at a park bench, only to realize I was a bag short about 20 minutes later. Dad and I rushed back to the park bench to find my fancy bag gone and an open box ofmatzah, with a tiny corner of one matzah missing, under the park bench. Bag stolen, Matzah abandoned, open and unusable.

So, I guess this Passover I´m going to be eating lots of potatoes again. At least I have the makings for Matzah-ball soup.

Poor, unwanted matzah.

am I "other"?

I´ve spent the last couple of days walking around Berlin. I´ve gone to both the Jüdisches Museum Berlin and The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.

I left both the Jewish Museum and the Memorial feeling absolutely "other-ed".

The Memorial has one timeline of the persecution of Jews and the rise of Hitler and then has a series of rooms full of personal items, personal stories, and photographs. I imagine that the curator was trying to bring home that the absolutely inconceivable number of 6,000,000 is composed of real life individuals, who did normal things like eat dinner (dinner plates shown) and brush their hair (hair brush shown) and care about their children (photographs of children shown). I felt like the memorial was trying to convince its visitors that indeed, the Jews murdered were indeed people, to whom the visitors could relate. I feel that this is a worthy and understandable exercise, however, I personally do not need to be convinced that the murdered Jews were indeed human beings, each with his or her own personal story.

The section of the Jewish Museum dedicated to the Holocaust had the same theme- a smattering a personal effects to convince the audience of the humanness of the people murdered- the humanness of the Jews.

The rest of the museum was composed of amazing detail documenting the Jewish communities in the current land of Germany since the 900´s C.E. It told of contributions to society, the ever-oscillating attitudes toward the Jews, Jewish traditions and religious laws. There was even a "write your name in Hebrew" computer station. For someone who knows little to nothing about Judaism and Jews, this museum does a wonderful job in providing an awareness of our traditions, and pays tribute to many of the contributions individual Jews have made over the centuries. For me, however, it was slightly disturbing. I´m coming straight from Israel where I stayed with more some more observant friends and spent time in very observant communities in Jerusalem and Tsfat. And here I was, just a few days later, walking in a museum where "artifacts" from daily life were behind glass, with cleanly typed explanatory labels. From the meat, daily, parve stickers, pots and dishes needed for a kosher kitchen, to the prayer shawls, tzit-tzit and shabbat candle sticks. There were explanations that to me are so routine- it was like someone going through a friends house and making it into a museum. Imagine it, your kitchen dishes on display and explained, to be gawked at by museum goers, commented on, misunderstood, judged or the novelty of which to be contemplated. The clothes that your friends wear, taken from their closet, put on mannequins, and labeled. The candlesticks, the menorah/ channukiah from your own home, displayed and explained. Then, since who you are and what you do is so different, so confusing, in addition to the printed explanations to your life, your family´s history, add an audio guide tour.

I just felt so "other-ed", separated from humankind. I just felt like here we are, in 2008, still trying to convince the world that we are human, just like them. That although our traditions are different, that some members of our community further distinguish themselves with clothing or hair styles, that yes we are human and yes, for our proportionally very small part of the the human population, members of our community have made amazing contributions to the world.

Yes, I do think that exposure to other people and their traditions is the key to creating a more peaceful world. Yes, I believe that both the Jewish Museum and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe are important places for building understanding and making sure future generations never forget. Despite the good intentions and the positive benefits, I just left both feeling as if I was not quite part of the human race... that I somehow belonged to the category of other... something to be studied and the observations of which to be labled, categorized and displayed.

I've fallen into the Facebook blackhole

Over the past couple of years people I've met have posed the simple question, "Are you on facebook?" and I've responded, "no".

Maybe my resistance to sites like facebook and myspace seems rather odd for someone who sends mass emails full of personal thoughts and has recently started a blog. I like to console myself with the fact that my name isn't on my blog and that I know exactly where the emails are being sent. I guess it's my own somewhat illogical balance of personal and anonymous in a "google and you shall find" kind of world. Also, as a teacher, I know that in my small community I'm a public figure. Many kids would come back to school and tell me where they spotted me or other teachers. My first year teaching, I went to High Holiday Services at a Synagogue near the school and the next day at work umpteen students (who were also Jewish) were just so excited to know that I was too. After that when I gave feedback questioners to the students, I got some comments such as 'I like my teacher because she's Jewish.' I just wasn't ready for the melding of what I considered personal (religion) with my professional life.

My aversion to social networking sites increased when, during my third year teaching in the US, it was announced that a teacher in the district had been fired due to the contents of her myspace page. She was a first year teacher fresh out of college and her myspace page was what I imagine many college myspace pages to be- silly jokes, pictures taken in a drunken state, references to drugs and alcohol that just seem so cool when your 20- but some of her students and their parents found that page and she was out of a job. With a nameless blog that student don't know of and a mass email, I've felt pretty safe in my oneline endeavors.

However, as I travel around and meet people and have some really awesome conversations with them, I keep on getting bombarded with the unassuming, let's keep up with each other question, "Do you have facebook?"

And as of the last 5 days the answer has been "yes". I've finally submitted to this aspect of pop-culture, even though I am still quite weary of it. And in those past 5 days my in-box has been inundated with friend-requests and wall-writing notifications- the number of people with whom I had lost contact that I've heard from since Facebook is incredible- people from my master's program, summer camp, high school, Birthright trip, college, etc.

So, Facebook is an amazing tool and I'm now one of it's many members- albeit maybe a more dubious one.

2nd Tractor attack in Jerusalem

My basic Israel itinerary is one week in each city in the following order: Jerusalem, Tzfat (Sefad), Tel Aviv. However, I've been charged with the mission of hand-carrying posters of the Coexisence Exhibit from the Museum on the Seam back to Dhaka. (In case your wondering why I'm being a personal schlepper instead of just shipping it, please remember that Bangladesh-along with various other nations- doesn't recognize that Israel exists, even as it celebrates its 60th year. I personally think this denial is quiet dangerous for Israel, but that's a theme I won't expand at the moment.)

So, when a friend, B. called me in Tel Aviv late last night and asked me if I wanted to take a day-trip to Jerusalem with him today, I pounced on the opportunity to pick up the posters and check off my list my one major "job" for the trip. So around 8am, we hoped on a bus to Jerusalem.

B. has gone to apartment hunt and study for finals and I went to the Museum on the Seam. As I walked from the bus stop to the Museum I saw a multitude of police and emergency vehicles with sirens blaring heading quickly in the direction from which I had just come. As my mother taught me, I said a quick prayer for the success of their efforts and the safety of all people involved in the accident/ emergency- whatever that maybe- and walked into the museum.

After seeing the current exhibit at the museum and picking up the posters I hopped into a cab and headed for an internet cafe. First of all, the cab driver, Ori, was the absolute nicest cab driver I've ever met and a really good teacher of Hebrew. When many (all for a while) of the roads we needed to follow were closed I recalled the sirens and asked what happened. Ori told me that there was another tractor attack today near the hotel where Obama was suppose to stay upon arrival tomorrow. The information was delivered very factually, without any demonstrative change in emotion. The delivery seemed to make the conversation almost normal and commonplace.

Needless to say, I wasn't in the area of the tractor attack. I'm still waiting to hear from my friends, but I'm pretty sure they were away from the attack as well.

Obviously there are so many thoughts running through my head- however, since my recent peeps into the gripping depth of Jew-hatred in Bangladesh and consequence reading, my brain seems to be constantly returning to this subject. For the moment, I'll let the thoughts run through my head. I don't want to write anything here until I have the exact facts/ references that support them. For the meantime, know that I am well.

Eretz Israel

I've spent the last two weeks In Jerusalem and Tzfat (Sefed) and tomorrow I'm hopping on a Taglit/ Birthright bus to Tel Aviv. I've been very busy having fabulous experiences- including mini-miracles (yes, Tobias, the lifting of my burdens at the Abby is just such a mini miracle), talking, volunteering and wondering around and have very limited computer access- but I promise that there will be blog entries! (Including a clip of my deriere on Israeli television- I'm just waiting to get the version with English subtitles)

To leave you all with one totally random and meaningless observation- I have the best (worst) farmer's tan- my forearms are a completely differnt color (bright red) than the rest of me (glaringly white)- but how I got that fabulously sexy look is linked to my butt on television- and you'll all just have to wait in suspense.