Iran article

So, I labored on this for a couple of weeks and here it is. My piece about Iranian-American (and Iranian immigrants) reactions to the recent events in Iran.

If this were the back of a book, I would put the quotes that two of my interviewees said after they read the piece:

Wonderfully nuanced...

If people like you write more about what is happening in the Mid-East... I think the situation will really get better in the region.


I was really excited to get such nice feedback.Kind of makes up for those two rejection letters that were in my inbox.

New York has always been something of a spiritual mecca for me. Why?

Maybe because I've typically found that my fears, sadness, and anxiety have been problems of proportion and perspective-- namely, even if things aren't going well for me, I feel good when things aren't too close to my face.

In Tel Aviv, when I feel unmotivated or just glum I go walk around South Tel Aviv. Some people find South Tel Aviv depressing-- it's poor, it's full of people-- mostly immigrants, foreign workers, and refugees-- who are struggling through very difficult lives. I find South Tel Aviv full of hope and inspiration. These are people who haven't given up, these are people who persist. It's the human spirit at its best.

That's something the city center in Tel Aviv lacks, in my opinion. As much as I love the city center, a bunch of cynical, apathetic people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes in cafes is not spirit.

New York has spirit in abundance.

When I talk about New York, I'm not talking about the Sex and the City New York that has (unfortunately) gotten lodged in the popular imagination. That's not New York. Or maybe it's a side of New York, but it's a small side and it's not one that interests me or appeals to me.

What does? The subway.

Crazy, huh?

But seriously... want to put your life in perspective? Take a ride. It's hard for your problems to feel big when you're packed into a car with people from all walks of life. Sometimes I think that I get the same amount of peace out of a week in New York that I get out of months of traveling.

Now there's something I can't figure out abut myself-- why I don't find peace in silence, why I find it in noise. Why is my mind quieter when the world around me is noisy and why is my mind noisy when the world around me is quiet?

Why is the act of being around and seeing people, even if I'm not talking to them, so soothing to me?

In Kensington, Brooklyn, NYC

At first, I thought maybe I wasn't hearing correctly. Then, I went and stuck my head in the open window.

Yup, that's the call to prayer.

I'm at my aunt's place in Brooklyn. I had Indian food this afternoon, watching the residents of the neighborhood stream past. A Hasidic Jew followed by a Pakistani followed by an Arab followed by a Chinese followed by a black and so on. As I walked back to my aunt's apartment, I heard Spanish, Russian, and a Slavic language in the space of three blocks.

In short, I love it here.

Of course I have been to NY quite a few times before so I don't know why I'm so impressed this time by the melting pot. I'll have to chew on that and get back to you guys.

Here's something I've always wondered about...

how languages got translated the very first time.

For example, when the Spaniards encountered the Indians when they landed in what is now the Spanish-speaking Dominican Republic how did they communicate with each other? Most nouns can be pointed to and translated that way, I suppose-- like water and cat. But what about nouns that communicate ideas like anger and love? I guess both anger and love are both easy to mime... but there are nouns like "monarchy" and "inquisition" that would be difficult to mime and translate thus.

Most verbs are easy to mime but what about the ones that express more sophisticated abstract ideas? Like... (now I can't think of any, of course).

But you get my drift.

And I have definitely never impressed

any of my Greenlandi friends with the Tom Tom Club. Someone explain this to me. How can anyone NOT like the Tom Tom Club?

As much as I love living in "Greenland"...

I gotta say, Greenlandim don't get that whole soul thang. And I certainly couldn't get a vintage muu muu like this in Greenland, either.

Hearing music like this at bars or on the radio is one of the few things I miss about the States. OK, soul music and fried chicken. What do you want from me? I grew up in the South.

This is one of my all time favorite songs. But if you listen to the lyrics, it is quite ridiculous. "If you see me walking down the street and I start to cry each time we meet, walk on by..." When have you ever seen a grown man burst into tears as a woman passes him on the street?

And now for the mundane

I bought some cherries the other day. I took the remainders out of the fridge just now and noticed that some were coated with white fuzz. But I would be loathe to throw them away. So, I picked through and took the least moldy of the bunch out and washed them. Hey, mold washes off, right?

Yes and no. Some of these de-molded cherries taste pretty good, but some taste pretty gross.

Thinking of googling "what to do if you have eaten mold." I wonder if that would lead me to Sandra's blog as so many odd google searches seem to. (Winking smiley face to Sandra).