where you're looking for me....

... you will not find me.

Since I got hitched I figured I should quit the narcissism and cleave to my helpmate. And I've never been happier in my life.

You can find my/our semi-less-narcissistic musings at the Newell Post

Jubilee

More Photos of Paradise!

So many pictures... so little time!

Here are some pictures that I just have to share with you all! I have less than 5 minutes to upload them, so we'll see how this goes! These are all taken at the resort where I'm staying in Goa. Much more to come soon!

Rain, Rain, Go Away...

Lonely Planet guidebooks are great. I found loads of information from their India guidebook. One very crucial piece of information that Lonely Planet failed to highlight was the monsoon season. I’m sure it was in the book somewhere, but the book also happens to be over 1,200 pages in length. In other words, I’m sitting in paradise, otherwise known as Goa, India, in my hotel room listening to the rain come out of the sky like water from a fire hose. I’m not made of sugar (entirely, that is), so I won’t melt. But, even a semi-sweet gal doesn’t like to be drenched within seconds of being outside. We walked to breakfast this morning to a restaurant on the resort property and I was absolutely soaked by the time we arrived. I’ll have to learn to operate in a soggy state for at least the next four or five days. That’s OK, because as I mentioned before, we’re in paradise!

For example, this is our room at the resort. Wowzas! We have a covered porch that overlooks the expansive pools and rainforest-like flora of the resort.

This is our super-sweet bathtub. I think. I haven’t quite figured out how to fill it up, so I’m just using it as a shower for now. Not pictured here is the rain shower shower- head fixed to the ceiling. It is very high pressure, just like the rain pouring down outside as I type.

We actually only made it to Goa yesterday. Somehow we missed our flight on our original departure date, June 10th. (If you want to know how that happened I have to tell you when I’m back in the States… ughhh….) Now that we’re finally here, Jana and I are just enjoying, well, our room and our porch. We hope to make a trip out to a local market if the rain slacks off a bit. I don’t mind walking around the resort in the rain, but I’m not too keen on walking down muddy village roads in the rain.


With our extra day in Delhi Jana was able to do some last minute shopping for jewelry supplies. We also visited the Red Fort. It was built to protect the entire city of Delhi “back in the day.” As you can see from this picture, I’m outside the walls of the fort… so; I’d say the architects didn’t imagine India would have a billion people any time in their future. Their trajectory was a bit off…

This resort has an unbelievable spa, only a few soggy minutes walk from my room. I might just have to check that out! We took a tour of the spa yesterday and I was sold! The spa also has a sauna, but I have my own personal sauna. It’s called “being outside.” I also had my own personal parasite for a few days. That has finally passed, I hope. Today I ate a muffin. That was the first thing I’ve eaten in two days. Yay for Arbonne Powepacks! Hopefully my system absorbed some of those vitamins while I was on my parasite diet.

More updates soon! Keep checking back and keep pr@y!ing!

A Day of Shopping

We started our day with breakfast at "Cafe Coffee Day." Jana's breadfast looked yummy, but my "Italian Foccocia" left much to be desired. Spicy carrots on panini bread at 8:30am isn't my idea of a good breakfast. My second shot at a breakfast item was the chocolate doughnut. It was just like Daylight Doughnuts, a sure win.

Today we met up with our friend Raji who took us to several bazaars to buy jewelry pieces. Here is Jana and Raji walking to the bazaar.

Jana spent many hours picking out just the right pieces of silver, beads, and crystals for the jewelry business.

The street bazaars were CRAZY!!! I've never been stared at more in my life! There were billions of people, all crammed into tiny alleys, with motor scooters, bikes, rickshaws, and cars, all trying to go different directions. I was almost run over about 35 times (which barely beats the amount of times I saw a man "relieving himself" on the sidewalk. eeeewwww....) If you look closely, you can see the monkey on the wire above the street. It was so Indian Jones-esque!

As we were walking I spotted a drinking station where they serve the lowest caste of people (the Dalits) water from small clay pots. After the Dalit drinks from the pot they are required to throw it on the ground so that no person might drink from the same cup as a Dalit.

This doesn't begin to show how incredibly dirty and sweaty I was after eight hours of non-stop shopping. I had a "second skin" of street scum and pure sweat!

Mississippi Mudpie + Delhi + A Cazillion Degrees = Delicious!

Today was a beautifully humid day in Delhi. Jana and I woke up pretty early and had a chance to catch up on all that has been going on over the past year or so. We chatted while we sat in bed for close to an hour! Then, we got ready and went to breakfast at the hotel restaurant. When our waiter brought the bill he informed us that our breakfast might be free tomorrow. We were both confused and he didn’t bother to explain himself any further. Is this some new promo technique? Works for me... I’ll be there tomorrow morning! I’m quite the sucker for freebies!

After a relaxing morning we went to a fellowship gathering in central Delhi. How beautiful it is to hear Indian voices singing to the Father! The message was exactly what I needed to hear. In fact, the verses that the teacher covered in the message were just what I have been studying for the past few days, and the same verses my wonderful boyfriend Jake wrote to encourage me on my trip. We studied what it means to experience “joy” that is not transient, and studied what it means to have G’s “peace” in our heart.

Our friend Kate took us to an INCREDIBLE restaurant after the gathering. The place is called “The Big Chill.” Yes, there were movie posters all over the restaurant. And, oddly, lots of Alfred Hitchcock memorbelia as decor. I was confused about that part of the restaurant, but not at all confused about the amazing meal! Without knowing it, Jana and I ordered enough food to feed most of the restaurant... for super cheap! Then, to top it all off, they had “Mississippi Mudpie” on the dessert menu. Curiosity got the best of us, so we had to order it. It was just what my palate was craving! Just like the mudpie we have in the South! Again, it was more than we could eat, but I’ve never had a problem finishing a dessert. It’s just a sin to leave gobs of chocolate on your plate. Paula Deen would have been proud.

This afternoon (you know, when the sun’s had enough time to heat up the air and pavement to a nice and steaming cazillion degrees...) we’re planning to visit a silver jewelry dealer to barter/purchase silver for the jewelry business. I’m excited to see Jana in action! We’re also on the prowl for sandals for the both of us that we can wear to an Afgh wedding. The tackier the better, I was told. Finally! Tacky dress is culturally appropriate! My Nana always says to take off at least one accessory before you leave the house, but just the opposite is true for an Afgh wedding! Pile on the yellow gold and gaudy jewels... it’s party time!

Photos Thus Phar

So, I just realized I haven't taken many photos since I've been here. Actually, none at all! But, here are a few from my time in NYC and with Jake before I left. Also, there is a picture of me with a cup of coffee at a place called "Jake's Coffehouse." How neat.

India smells just like I remember!

Dear Readership,

I have arrived. Literally. I'm in India! The flight was too long. I'd suggest NEVER taking a non-stop flight to Delhi. Ever. But, I'm here now. I had about a six hour layover in New Jersey, so I hopped on the train into NYC. I spent a few hours just walking around and taking in the sights, walked to Time Square, ate at an expensive deli, and headed back to the airport just in time for my international flight. It was really fun to be out an about all on my own! After about a 15 hour flight, I'm finally in Delhi, India.

It was so great to see my friend Jana at the hotel! We had a very sweet reunion. Tomorrow we are going to a fellowship gathering together. Then, we'll do some shopping for jewelry in the afternoon.

Thank you for lifting me up during my flight. All of my bags arrived in (almost) perfect condition. Nothing was taken from the bags, they were just a little shuffled around. I am doing well and not quite tired yet. I'm still on Arkansas time! I better get to bed soon, though, so I can get on Indian time. I'll upload pictures soon of my journey so far!

our nation's first capitol

i went to philly and this is what i saw.

(plus some other great and historical figures. more pictures soon.)

through the lens

a picture IS worth a thousand words, which will save me a lot of time in this update. just click here to see what i've been up to lately, in photo form. or, follow the link on my sidebar to "snaps."

voy a mexico...ahorrita!

"I am going to Mexico...right this minute!"

It's the truth. I leave in T minus two hours. Yipes. This wouldn't be as big of a deal, normally, except for the following circumstances:

:: I not only had to pack a suitcase for Mexico, I had to pack ALL of my belongings.

:: While I'm gone, my current residence will be vacated.

:: My dad is moving to New Jersey while I'm 'en la playa' in southern Mexico, "building a floor," as some have said.

ps: We hope to build more than a floor...

So, here I sit, in my empty room, staring at an empty, well, everything. These are my last moments in the first house that has seemed anywhere close to "normal" for the past five crazy years. Dad moved into this house about three years ago. I "lived" here through most of college. Now, I'm an official vagabond. With all of my most important things packed into boxes, resting for time in my grandmother's garage, I'm off... Off to, somewhere. Somehow. Of course, I could go to New Jersey with Dad. He'd love that. Even though it is only a 50 min. train ride to NYC, and the foliage is great, according to him, I'm just not sure I'm a NorthEastern-er. Not yet, at least. Plus, I'm pretty sure New Jersey produces more chemicals and artifical flavorings than any other state in the Union. That's got to be good for the environment up there...

Back to Mexico. I haven't been there in over a year. I usually go every Spring Break with our church to support the local m-workers-- building stuff, teaching stuff, medicating people, etc. I'm very excited to get back down there. This time around I feel I have a bit more to offer, to the team and to the long-term workers. We hope that I'll be able to make some fruitful connections with the local artisans, the m-base, and Bajalia. Apparently the harvest is very plentiful, but the outlet is undeveloped. We can work with that!

And, as you can imagine, more pictures are soon to come. I'll be posting lots of Mexican "fotos" when I return.

This photo is from my last trip:


As the vagabond/nomad lifestyle goes, I might not have regular internet access in the coming weeks. But, hang in there. You, my faithful readership, are worth every trip to the local library and coffee shop, where I shall bum WiFi, all for the sake of the blog.

Paz/Peace/Salaam/Shalom.

garage sale gems

To set the scene: it is around 6:30am, Friday morning. I'm quite literally exhausted, asleep in my car in my grandmother's driveway, where I thought I could steal a few minutes of sleep while I waited for my first customer. I had been preparing for the garage sale to end all garage sales all week. I'm on this "minimalist kick," as my Dad so lovingly has labeled my life phase. I had prepared for the entire week--sorting, sifting, pricing, trashing, and reminiscing-- through every possession I've collected over my past 23 years of life. Yeah, that's a lot of stuff, you're right. Needless to say (even though I've actually already said it...), I was exhausted. But not for long...

Around a quarter to 7am, a gut-shaking rumble comes screeching down the street. I jump straight up, jerk around in my reclined seat, to catch a hazy gaze of my first customer. The rumble was coming from the dangling exhaust pipe of a circa 1980 Thunderbird (with T-tops). And when he parked just past the mailbox, the rumble didn't stop. He left the engine running, with the stereo blasting classic rock. The music matched the outfit, and gave him perfect theme music as he slithered through all of my considerably girly home decor, picture frames, and hand-painted bedroom furniture.

As he breached from the T-bird I knew I was in for a treat. His black, leather vest (with fringe) accented his bare cheast like the ruffled skirt on a plus-size baithing suit accents a pear-shaped figure. His flowing salt-and-pepper curls tumbled down his bare shoulders, well past his elbows, with a backwards hat most likely covering a receiding hair line and/or a sprawling bald spot in the crown region. Just making an educated guess from the context clues presented to me.

He hovered around the tables for several turns, picking up mainly electronics and cords and the tools my dad donated for the sale. Obviously a smoker from his pre-teens, he saluted me with a grumbly "Good mornin' girly. How's things?" ...such a familiar salutation, from such an unfamiliar figure... I told him he was my first customer, and, though his leathered face didn't show much of any expression, I could tell he was proud. After passing around some general niceties, I learned that "Smitty" did yard work for a living, but that he could pretty much do anything, at all...ever. Anything. He'd ovbviously peaked my interest such a bold statement. I had to know more...

Smitty then proceeded to explain to me how one would go about tearing down a tree, from the top down. I also learned various other yard-related tips and tricks. When I asked him about the duct tape around his tucked-into-socks pant legs, he explained that "the seed ticks were eatin' him alive down in the holler." Again, using my keen context clues, I drew the conclusion that he was working in a nearby holler, of sorts, tearing down trees. From the top, down.

The first of his many purchase decions, as he did stop by several more times throughout the next two days, was my dad's old stereo, dad's old ostrich skin cowboy boots, an electric keyboard, and my wet suit. I would love to see all of these purchases utilized simultaneously. I'm certain that with his old/new items, Smitty will be the envy on the banks of the Elk River, his current estate.

...if a picture's worth a thousand words, then Smitty left me speechless...

happy birthday

to me.


so the marble is really bright, alright?

"you look like a nice afghan girl,"

said the mullah of the village, at the msq dedication ceremony, where i offered a blessing for the place in the name of the Only One who can save.

yeah, that was a good day.

perspective

Again, allowing children to run free with one's camera can produce priceless photos.

"let stand for one hour to coagulate"

or one day, or six weeks, or however long...

a few things i've learned in the past few days, covering a few areas of life and spirituality and food:

:: i lack discipline
:: i'm too optimistic
:: snicker's candy bars are a whole heck-of-a-lot harder to ration over the course of a week than are clif bars
:: saying that you'll learn a language by buying the books and cd's is quite different than actually learning the language
:: hot chocolate mix (with tiny marshmallows) + instant coffee + raw sugar = "mocha"
:: i'm afraid of weapons, but i'm not sure why
:: it is possible to still feel like you have dirt on your body even after a really hot shower
:: the world and life keeps clicking along even when you go to a new place and you wish it'd just stop and wait for you to come back
:: never, ever give your underware to the cleaning lady to be washed, unless you want everyone else to see it in living room later
:: assuming honesty is a dangerous dance
:: hair dryers can catch fire, especially when they start smoking
:: it takes more effort to live in a developing country
:: somehow i miss places i've never been. or have i confused missing with longing?
:: soaking clothes in hot, soapy water works for me (see seventh bullet point...)

don't know nothing except change will come

just wanted to share these curious faces with you. not much going on today. i'm stuck inside, with patty griffin singing to me, donald miller filling my head, along with Isaiah's words, and dusty, spring air collecting outside. el blog underwent a bit of a facelift today. the new color scheme was inspired by the mountain that is perched perfectly in my window. sometimes i think it is mocking me for not being able to conquer its summit. but i've decided to use its dominating presence as an inspiration to return here and reach new heights.

i was tempted to not write about this, considering the fact that some in my readership might be on the squeemish-side, but i just have to share what was in my food today, for the second time since i've been in this lovely country. ready? fur. i've had two pieces of naan with fur baked into the crust. sometimes the only way to eat is with my eyes closed. does fur have any nutritional value, i wonder?

tonight several of my new friends and i will be eating OUT, at a lebanese restaurant. i don't think fur is part of the lebanese cuisine, if memory serves me. i'm looking forward to fur-free hummus.

and patty bellows on...

.....I don't know nothing except change will come
Year after year what we do is undone
Time keeps moving from a crawl to a run
I wonder if we're gonna ever get home

You're out there walking down a highway
And all of the signs got blown away
Sometimes you wonder if you're walking in the wrong direction

But if you break down
I'll drive out and find you
If you forget my love
I'll try to remind you
And stay by you when it don't come easy..................

reconstruction

I found this quote from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity, and I've started using it to lift up this land, amidst all the rebuilding happening here.

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself."

God is here, and I'm learning of the mighty remodeling He's been up to lately. I hope that soon and very soon the people will see with their eyes and recognize with their lips, this great Architect, and that He'll make His home in their hearts.

fruitful failure

I tried to climb a mountain today, in honor of the New Year celebration. Well, I didn't make it. I actually thought I was about to croak 1/4 of the way up, and was sure I would croak 1/2 the way up, then basic bodily functions started shutting down 3/4 of the way up. Things I should have taken into consideration before this hike: 1) I have a cold/sinus infection/lung wheeze; 2) i'm asthmatic; 3) we're about 6,000 ft higher in elevation than I'm used to, and I'm definitely not climatized. So, I didn't make it. But I'm quite happy that I whimped out just above the city, but not quite to the top. As usual, my dear, empathetic, and lagging-behind friend and I started to draw a crowd as I sucked air through a windpipe the size of a coffee stirring straw. The crowd grew and grew, and soon there were probably around 10 women and twice as many kids surrounding us. Even though I know about 10 words in Dari, I felt totally in my element, be it an element with very thin air. As my friend and I wondered how to entertain our new audience, I thought to pull out my camera. Kids love this thing. I started to take pictures, then let them run wild with my camera. Here's a taste of my out-of-breath afternoon among the mountains of Kbl, through my lens:

this is my "if-i-have-to-climb-another-inch-we'll-be-revisiting-the-taco-soup-i-just-had-for-lunch" smile

breath-taking. literally.

henna-ed fingertips are smudging my lense, but i don't really care at this point.

mountain goat girls

babies and old men put me to shame

making babies cry, one mountain village at a time

her name is Nilofar and her hair really is blonde. and she's got an eye for photography.

mountain goat family

"these are a few of my favorite things..."

When all the world is new, one learns to find pleasure in the simplest of things. Here’s a portion of my on-going list of simple things that, peppered throughout my day, bring me a smile:

• finding a hidden hot chocolate packet in the cupboard of my guesthouse
• the night watchman’s leopard-print slippers
• the imported Dutch trampoline at a friend’s house
• starting a fire with less than 10 matches
• Chaila—the coffee house that serves homemade milkshakes
• the two ice cubes I’ve had in 4 weeks
• hot water
• balloon man selling helium balloons tied to the back of his bicycle
• gospl quartet at the military base
• sunset into mountains
• almond-shaped eyes and wind-burned cheeks on children wearing fuzzy wool hats

el gym

Today my host friend took me to the gym. Hold it right there, you’re probably thinking. You went to the gym? In A*stan? How? Why? and Where? are good questions that you also might be pondering. Well, just so happens that for about 3 hours in the middle of the day this particular gym is open for women. There are apparently several gyms in the city, and the gym we went to is the “nicest.” “Nice” must be a relative term, for several reasons. 1) The place smelled like feet; 2)the weight machines were made out of old car seats, bike chains, bike seats, and anything that could be measurably heavy, 3)there wasn’t a track, so the women just ran around the weight machines. Rather, they frolicked around the weight machines. I didn’t have to wear my head scarf, but I did have to wear my salwar kamis, the traditional shirt-and-top combo that most Af*gs wear. I didn’t exactly bring my track pants and tank top to this country. Also, as is tradition, we had to take off our shoes when entering the building, just like we do everywhere else we enter. But, I also left my running shoes at home, so I had nothing to change in to. I did about an hour workout in my sock feet. I don’t think you’d even be allowed in a gym in the States without shoes on. I channeled some of my creative energy into weight lifting techniques, as the dumbbells the women use are about 1lb each, and neon-colored. This country never ceases to amaze me…


check out the handle bars and old driver seat from a car.


this is a shot from the locker room, with a burqa in the foreground.


again, the bike seat…


Lisa Frank school supplies would have fit in nicely here in the free weight section.

among giants

On the plane ride up to Maz. I was able to actually watch the takeoff and landing through the front windows of the airplane! I was sitting in the row behind the pilots and I’m sure I looked like a kid in a candy shop. My eyes must have been huge as I watched the pilots flip a zillion switches and say stuff like, “Left prop is go for flight” and “Setting cruising altitude at 27 thousand, captain.” I made a friend here that is a pilot, and he told me who would be flying my plane. This is good info for schmoozing purposes. I did some name dropping and found favor with the mutual friend/pilot. He asked if I wanted to wear the headphones and communicate with my friend who was also flying that day. I chickened out because I pictured the worst: some bit of vital information coming through as I’m wearing the set of headphones, putting the vital communication at a hault, then our plan spiraling down into a crash landing in a mountain, all because I was wearing the headphones instead of the pilot. Instead, I busied myself with the view from my little frosted-over window. Here’s what I saw…







Goose the Pilot, my new friend that gave me the schmoozing ability with Bruce my pilot told me that the mountains we flew over were the Hindu-Kush Mountains. I believe him. He also said that if we had taken a hard right turn as we were flying over the major mountain pass, we would eventually run into Mt. Everest. I’m glad to be in Maz for this week, but must admit that circling Mt. Everest in a 10-seater plane would have been quite fabulous, as well.

Ps: Goose isn’t his real name.

burqa series

I'm learning to imagine that there really is a smile underneath the burqa. Imainge that with me, won't you?

Istalif

...an enchanted little mountain village... a diamond in the rough...




the check mark means the house and property is cleared of land mines. oh, goodie.


this man is a doctor from the clinic at Istalif


these are his patients






kiddos around the city


the people are known for their pottery (led-based, that is.) the color of green reminded me of my first hot-rod, the Camero, in all of her teal-blue wonder.


Dina and I with A-stan behind us


fighting birds in cages. They clip their wings and let them have at it.

a new way to learn

We have been visiting with several women's "self-help" groups in the villages around Kabul. These groups are organized by a local NGO, but mainly led through strong women in the community. The women get together monthly to learn, encourage each other, and bounce new ideas around, and probably, as my Nana would say, "gab" about goings on in the village. The model for self-help groups has been quite successful in several developing countries. Our business team is partnering with two specific CLA's (Cluster Level Associations). The CLA's are made up of representatives from each self-help group. The Dari word for the CLA group, which was decided on by the women, is "Desta Jamee"-- "joining hands together." I have visited several of these groups throughout the past week, and I was a little taken-back by the method of teaching/learning that happens in the meeting. I suppose I didn't really know what I was stepping in to, but I had my ideas. I thought the groups were a collection of simple village women, and I had attached an intellectual level to them. For some reason I thought that because they were taking care of the home, cooking, cleaning, taking care of kids, washing, looking after the livestock, etc. that they would be a bit more intellectually advanced. But I was quite wrong. These women are illiterate and have the most basic reasoning and critical thinking skills, only. I don't mean to share this information for any other reason than to say how the Father has encouraged me to teach these women. They learn through pictures, so that is what we have been doing. We draw and they add to our drawings; or, we give them an idea, and they elaborate on the idea through drawing. If anyone was thinking they needed a PhD to teach, they are wrong. The Father is teaching me that I am incredibly blessed to have the university education that I have. And I'm encouraged that the training I DO have is quite sufficient, if I really am just here to share the love of the Father.

for you to click on

check out these blogs for more stories and pictures from our trip:

Bajalia Trading Co.

Michael's Blog

The Bookseller of Kabul

I'm trying to pace myself with the taking of pictures ("snaps" as our British friends call them). I'm going to be here close to a month, so I'm trying to just take it all in right now. Astan is simply enchanting, and I don't think my lens has been capturing the awe I’m experiencing. Below is just a sample, more to come very soon:



If you were thinking Afghans only frowned, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ve seen many, many smiles here.



I live on this street, I think. Most of the streets have huge craters, so even drives on paved roads are like going “muddin.'”



Roof top view, from a Hazara village we visited. Mountains surround this whole city.



On our way to one village we got stuck in “mud.” Our driver thought he could make it down this alley, but he was just a little too ambitious. We were actually driving on ice. After several attempts we decided to let the men handle the problem, and the ladies went on to our appointment. Turns out, this wasn’t just a muddy alley, covered by ice. The open sewer system means that the streets are flowing with mud and, well, yeah. Poo.



Stockpiled wool for the carpet-weaving project we visited. All the wool is dyed in vegetable dye and hand-spun.



Michael bought some HOT shoes. He feels more culturally appropriate in these shoes, he says. I…don’t know…but, hmmm



A typical street scene—hanging meet, bicycle, more men than women, burqa, script I can’t read, etc.



Mary and Joseph, er, I mean, Brangelina, er…Michael and Jennifer. I’m sporting my new fur coat, which smells like it was alive not too long ago. We’re not supposed to smile in this country, but we’re both on the verge.



Even through all the smog and dirt, the snow is still quite bright. There is a mountain range behind me. In fact, everywhere I turn there is a mountain range somewhere behind me.



Our feastings. If you look closely, there are French fries cooked in with the chicken legs. Side note: I saw French soldiers at a restaurant today and I think they were eating French fries. Ha.



In case you didn’t get the point, I look at mountains all day long.

I read a book called The Bookseller of Kabul before I came here as a sort of cultural indoctrination, along with The Kite Runner (which I totally recommend that everyone read). In The Bookseller of Kabul, the author/journalists takes some creative liberties, but basically tells the true-life story of an Afghan family, weaving each family member’s story into a novel, but mainly focusing on the life of the bookseller, the father of the family. She spent “a springtime” with this family whose patriarch is a renowned bookseller in Kabul. The author writes that one of the bookshops is located in the lobby of the Inter Continental Hotel. We made lunch plans for the hotel restaurant today, and I thought I’d do my own little investigation into this bookshop. The novel is supposed to be based on true events, right? Sure enough, there is a bookshop in the hotel lobby. I nosed my way into the shop, a tiny nook, really, off to the side of the main lobby. There was a man inside building shelves, but there were hardly any books on the shelves, maybe 10 books. I asked if he was the carpenter or owner. The convo went a little something like this:

“Excuse me, sir, is this the bookshop?”

“Yes, this is bookshop.”

“Oh! Ok, are you the carpenter or the owner?”

“Ne, ne, this is my shop. I am Shah Mohammed. See sign? [points to poster hanging just to my right] ‘Shah M. Bookshop’.”

“Yes, oh. I see. Are you new? I mean to say, is this a new bookshop for the hotel?”

“No, this is a reopening. We are a very old shop. I have many shops in Kabul. You want to have look?”

“Well, sir, I must come back, my friends are leaving me. I will be here all month. Will you be open soon?”

“Yes, I open very soon.”

[bookseller leans in very close] “You know, miss, I am very famous. This shop very famous.”

“Ah, yes. I have heard of your shop. And I’ve heard of your postcards. You are famous to me, that’s for certain. I will come back to visit you when I have more time.”

“Yes, thank you. Ok, salaam.”

“Salam, tashakor Shahjan.”

Process of elimination and my keen detective skillz tell me…I just met The Bookseller of Kabul! And the ironic part of the story (one of them, at least) is that a chapter of the novel tells the story of a contracted carpenter whom the Bookseller hired to build him new shelves for his shop. The carpenter ended up stealing several thousand postcards from the shop, and there was a whole scene involving the police and bringing shame to the carpenters family, etc, etc. Well, I guess the Bookseller learned his lesson! He’s building his own shelves now!

I wonder if he’ll carry his book…

qatra qatra darya mesha

"I want to teach you a proverb," said Wakil. "'Qatra qatra darya mesha'--we say this in A*stan to mean that drop by drop, you will see progress, so much to make a mighty flowing river."

This is the first of many proverbs I learned over tea and sweets today. I'm trying to write them all down, but my phoenetics is a little rusty, not to mention my Dari. I clung to this proverb, as it describes quite well my introduction to this city, culture, and language.

We arrived safely yesterday to Kbl. What a trip. The airport "situation" was one for the record books. I felt like a diplomat, recieving special privileges, but also like I didn't exist. It was weird. The luggage belt might as well not have existed, also. The unloading of luggage from the plane could be likened to the way a CAT front-end loader shovels dirt from pile to pile. It appeared that our suitcases were scooped from from the belly of the plane and just dumped in a mud puddle.

I haven't experienced much of this city, yet. Today we plan to take a driving tour and do a little shopping. I need a jacket, badly! It is snowing here, and I have an inappropriate coat (it doesn't cover my hind-end). The "cuddle duds" on loan from my sis are working wonders, though. I felt a bit bi-polar packing for this trip. India and A*stan are basically opposite in climate.

I'm making friends with the employees of the guesthouse. I already have an Afghan name, which I can't pronounce yet, and they are very patiently teaching me Dari. Sohaila took me to the roof today to view the city. The sun had bured through the clouds and snow just enough for me to be taken back by the mountains surrounding this city. It is other-worldly, really. Maybe the roof isn't the best place to be in a city like this, but I can't imaging finding a better view anywhere else. Sohaila is a beautiful woman, and I can only hope to have many more tea times and language study with her.

murg aloo who?

My time in India really has been a dream-come-true. I don’t know if I’ve ever been able to say that with such confidence. But I am confidant and convinced that our Father is answering my heat’s desires through this trip. He wasn’t joking when He asked me to match my heart with His, and He would fill me up to overflowing. I’m seeing Him everywhere, even though this country is a very dark place. Actually, India is full of irony. Here are some things I’m noticing:

o The darkest villages have the brightest colored clothing, and the most beautiful eyes.
o I see the most hope in the most untapped creativity.
o They have so little, but they give so much away.
o My travel wallet (on loan from Nana), which is supposed to go under my clothes, discretely, is neon pink.

o As the crow flies, we’re only a couple paces from the equator, but I’m wearing more yards of fabric on my body that I ever have before.
o There is an electrical outlet in my shower.

I’m typing this as I drink a Coca Cola and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. For breakfast I had toast. It would be safe to say that I’m not agreeing too well with Indian food. I’ve only had a few incidences of what we like to call “Delhi Belly,” but nothing traumatic. I’ve tried to be adventuresome when it comes to food, upon my best friend’s recommendation. But I come from the school of thought that holds to ‘if you can’t pronounce it, maybe you shouldn’t order a whole plate of it.’ “Murg Aloo” is fun enough to say, but do I want Murg Aloo working itself through my digestive track? Probably not. I can, however, give you a great critique on many of the Indian versions of American food.

Visiting the villages to explore their handiwork has been my favorite part of this trip. I really feel “in my element.” I feel useful, both to Bajalia, and to the work of the Kingdom, when I’m visiting with the women of the villages, talking with the elders, and hearing their heart’s desires. There is plenty of fertile ground here for the HS to work!

These are some pictures from the village where we hope to begin a new project with the women:













Today we arrived in Mumbai. We’ll be doing some more consulting with artisans here, picking up merchandise, and hopefully purchasing more to bring back to the states. I hope to also catch another bollywood flick while in the city. We saw one a few nights ago, but I need more dancing! There was only one song-and-dance outbreak in the movie we saw, to my dismay. Oh, and, my cell phone magically re-appeared today, just moments after I mentioned to the hotel management that I might have “misplaced” it. Thanks for lifting that up for me, to those of you that knew about it.

Keep our travels in your thoughts. And praise Him for His grace, and His Son, our motivation for all we do, and our only hope for true Restoration.

first fotos

Like I said, everything jingles, even ankles.


The kid on the bike is funnier looking than me, actually. Safe to say, neither of us know what’s going on.


Sunffeluffogus balloon kid.


And, explain to me why we can’t touch these children?


Boo! Ahahahahahahah!!!


Life goal, check. Blowing bubbles with Indian Dalit children. These kiddos go to school at Good Shepherd School, Antejar, India. I hope you can zoom in on the attack-bubble, about to pop on my face.


I hear ya, kiddo. India is a strange, strange place.


Dalit kids at Good Shepherd school. I spy, with my little eye, a cheater!


I can’t get over how cute a kid can be if you just put a bonnet on her. But actually it didn’t take much for me to come to the conclusion that these kids were absolutely beautiful.


The girl in the orange was just married. Or, maybe it was the girl in the maroon, I can’t really remember. They both had henna all over their hands. I think this picture sort of looks like we ran into a hot dog stand together.


India mullet, sporting khaki vest and trash stash. Yes, please.


Another cutie-patootie, but not sure what he’s chewing on…


My future mother-in-law…apparently.


…because she let me wear her wedding dress, which would be passed on to her son’s new bride. Didn’t know that part until later…


The children at the schools LOVED the parachute. Who doesn’t love the parachute, come to think of it?


Orange-shirt kid was dominating this game.


Woo-hoo! Cow crossing!


This lady is weaving a massive tapestry. She somehow threads one strand through each of those white strands, and the stick helps… The artisans we have been meeting are incredible talented, and this lady is just one of the many we have met.


When we tour the villages, people come out to show us their wears. This lady, a Dalit, is making quilts at home. Hopefully, we can help her village by creating projects for the ladies to work on, such as embroidery and quilting.


This man is dressed in traditional Rabari clothing. The Rabari are nomadic shepherds. Older Rabari wear all white, but the younger shepherds wear very brightly colored turbans and outfits.


Our team with one of the local Brothers and his family.


Basically what I’m eating these days (give or take a milkshake every now and again…)--rice, pita-ish bread, some greasy soup, usually with cilantro and an egg, and a hash-like food, for color. All of this is shoveled into my mouth with my right hand, of course.


Trucking makes up quite a bit of the industry in this area of Gujarat.


I gave the woman on the left my ring after she complimented me on it. Maybe one day I’ll get to come back and visit her, and tell her about my Savior. For now, I was just able to bless her with a new piece of jewelry.


My sari fitting. I purchased a sari that is almost this same color. Haven’t had the opportunity to wear it yet. Apparently, only married women wear saris, unless it is a very special occasion. Maybe I’ll wear mine for breakfast tomorrow….


This baby was not happy to be taken from his mama by a white woman that didn’t speak his language.


Snake Tag is a hit. In this particular game, I was on the weak end. I pretty much had to whip-lash the kids around to get anybody tagged.

One of my favorite kids. He was so, so, so tiny! I called him "Tall Socks" you'll see why...


...these were his little legs and shoes and tall socks. Ohmygoodness. He would totally fit in my carry-on…


me and the gals on a stroll


on her way to the well


Maybe she’s not happy with her work, but I think it is amazing. This is a dowry purse, used to put the bride’s dowry in for her husband.


Ladies Of The Wall. When I asked them if they spoke English they said, "No English." I got a laugh out of this because, well, their response meant they knew at least a little English...oh...phew...guess you would have had to been there...


The traditional Indian welcome includes bejeweling the guests with carnations and roses. However, this is how Indian H’s also honor their idols. So, for Xn's, the tradition has evolved so that the honoree accepts the necklace, but then immediately removes it and gives it to someone who has been a servant to the honoree that day. I received this necklace at the beginning of the conference, and also as we finally arrived in India
.

Women at the well

Namaste

We arrived safely to India! Thank you for your continued prayers.

Time flies when you’re…flying. It seems like no time at all passed between when I left XNA and arrived in India. Ha. Definitely racking up the frequent flyer miles. I seem to be adjusting to the time change well (the mandatory afternoon tea times sure are helping!) We arrived in Mumbai around 1:30am on Monday. We were blessed with a 5-star hotel room that night, for a brief rest and warm shower. We had been traveling since Saturday night, and I, for one, needed that shower! The next morning, Monday, we flew from Mumbai to Bhuj, the capital city of Gujarat. Gujarat is north of Mumbai, on the west coast of India. From Bhuj, we were transported by SUV through villages and tiny towns to our final destination— Ghandidam. Phew. Monday night we settled into our hotel, met with the leaders of the Kutchi Development Project (KDP), and began to plan and organize for the celebration conference this week.

The sights and sounds of India are out of this world. I feel like I’m on a movie set…the wrong movie set. Any moment now, I keep telling myself, someone is going to tap me on the shoulder and say, “psst…Jenn, we need you over here, you’re about to go on…” and then I would return to reality. But, for the next several weeks, this IS reality.

…elephants and camels in the road, and cows everywhere, and beautiful, tiny women in colorful garments, with silver urns precariously balanced atop their heads, flowing down the road from the well, giggling children, and children with dark, blank stares, car horns (oh my, the horns!), dusty, dirty, filthy feet, decorated with jewels and bracelets, tarnished silver and gold, jingling…lots of jingling…chai, creamy and sweet, incense and smog, overpowering moth ball scent, curry-stained fingertips, bobbling heads signifying ‘yes,’ and nods I once understood as ‘yes,’ now signifying ‘no,’ muggy, sticky-back-of-neck hot, impeccable service, trains of tiny men following me everywhere, sweeping up after me, straightening things I wanted off-centered, calling me ‘madam’ and blinking a lot…

I had some traditional clothing made last night. Three tiny ladies and one man who knew the words “Fantastic!” “Classy!” and “Very Fashionable!” helped me sort through piles upon piles of fabric. I went in thinking I knew what I wanted, quickly became overwhelmed by the limitless choices, and settled on some drab colors with exciting trim, when I originally was looking for some fabric in the neon genre. “Don’t want to cause any more of a scene that I already am,” I said to console the part in me wanting the magenta and tennis-ball-yellow colored scarf.

Still not certain of my role here, or the purpose I am/will be serving. Just learning, a lot. I did think there would be more people here. I was prepared to not be able to move because of all the people. So far, things seem pretty normal, density-wise. But, I am in a more remote area… Mumbai will be a doozy.

I don’t think I have malaria, yet.

Chai time. Namaste.

an update, of sorts

T minus 19 hours.

We leave Orlando tomorrow night, headed to India. Wow, I never thought I'd say that. Finally, finally, I'm on my way.

...in the meantime...

I've been in Orlando for the past few days, preparing as a team for our trip. We've also been recruiting and sharing the vision of Bajalia at a young adult conference. The conference speakers have been quite enlightening/thought-provoking/radical. Donald Miller is here, along with Todd Phillips. Phillips is new to me, but he's speaking some hard-to-swallow truth about the sad and heretical divorce of social action and evglsm. Miller's stream-of-consciousness speaking and writing is very powerful. Though, he's not "usual" at all... Sometimes I have to stop and think, re-assess, pull back, because I wonder why and how I'm agreeing so well with what these guys are telling me. Am I easily swayed by smooth talkers? Or, is it that I'm drawn to the Truth of it all. Are they exposing Truth? 'Prove it,' I say to myself. They have been, and I'm encouraged. I'm encouraged because my desire to take care of the widows and children, clothe the naked, and to feed the hungry, is validated by my Father's Word. I want to stay challenged by J's words, though. He was constantly saying to the people in his day, "you thought this way, now I'm telling you to think this way." And I want to be listen and obey that radical thinker, above all.

As far as being ready to fly to the other side of the globe...yeah. I'm ready. Totally. Bags are packed, with everything possibly needed for the next 6 or so weeks. I thought I forgot floss, which would have been the only thing I forgot. But, it surfaced from the bottom of my cosmetic bag tonight. I've been on a steady diet of AirBorne/Vit C/malaria pill/typhoid pill/multi-vit coctails for the past several days. I'd like to see a parasite infiltrate this immune system. Just try me, microviral scum. Just try me... I tried on some of the c.asian clothing that I'll be wearing and LOVED it. Seriously. I've always dreamed of having clothing that didn't touch anywhere on my body, and just parachuted around my extrimities, and this is it. I can eat as many carbs as I want, and these pants will never get too tight. That's the glory of the drawstring. As I triple-checked my suitcases, I had to wonder what a person like Hudson Taylor or Amy Carmichael might think of my packing. Or, better yet, Paul. They'd definitely question the necessity of 2/3 of this crud I'm hauling overseas and overmountains. I'm pretty sure they'd throw out, right away, my Mr. Potato Head and at least one of my outlet adapters (I have two, just in case...). Alas, my bags are packed. We're off on a grand adventure....to serve and seek.

The Greatest Letdown

Tonight Michael made the ladies Dublin Pancakes, from Bosnia. (don't worry, I don't get it either...) We decided that he should use the infamous and illusive Magic Bullet, as seen on TV. This is all quite funny to us, as attendees of the Fusion conference here in Orlando. See, Donald Miller is the keynote speaker at the conference, and he made reference to the Magic Bullet in a talk yesterday. Something like how we're selling church like Magic Bullet infomercials are selling their product. (more to come on that later, very thought-provoking ideas from Miller). Anywhoo, this video series is a result of a bit of inside-humor and sheer magic...

The Greatest Letdown, con't.

the conclusion to the MB episode.

too far, Bill Gates. too far...

this is completely unnecessary. but, incredible handy. i'm neutral on this issue, as it turns out.

Beatboxing flute inspector gadget remix

because i have so much time on my hands....i found this to share with my readership.

check back here soon for stuff actually worth your time.

ps: i leave for india tomorrow. holy molars, batman!

ready or not...

here i come... more posts about my travels to the other side of the world to come very soon. check back here tomorrow. you might even see some pictures...

Mu

Mumu is studying the ways of Paula Dean, planning how she'll one-up her next year by adding just one more tablespoon of butter and then...perfection. Rolls that really do melt in your mouth. 

ohmygoodness

Buddy found a lady! Jen is so absolutely amazing! We love her, and love that he found her, and that she found him, and that they are happy and cute and, well are they in.....love?  

my brother the pineapple

or is he a a turkey? 

seeing double

i really am quite fond of her. 

Celebrants

Figurines celebrating on the serving table at Thanksgiving in my aunt and uncle's house. They might even be caroling AND giving thanks. What exemplary Puritans and Native Americans they are! 

Family

My long-lost brother. Ah, how I miss him. He's all grown up now. And, yes, in the fashion of twin-dom, Elizabeth and I are wearing the same outfit, in complimentary colors. 

a recent discovery

After four "divine appointments" today (a.k.a. support raising meetings) I looked down to notice that my shirt is inside-out. I know that it has been inside-out all day because, well, I have no recollection of taking it off at all since I put it on. This discovery only proves two of my theories: 1) I'm more scattered than usual these days and 2) God is bigger than mis-matched clothing. He usues even the most oblivious of us, his children. And his blessings will knock your socks off. Come as you are.

...

This is my first post in a long while... Don't have much to say, but I was pressured into writing this....

All I know is that even after the flood, the rain still seems to come.

prayer letter

To the faithful readership of barefacedjenn:

Click here to read my first prayer letter! You can look for a new prayer letter each month. I'll try to always have a link to the letter on this blogspot. I covet your prayers!

culturally appropriate

Head scarves were actually more comfortable to wear than just baring my hair. I felt more Jordanian and received less wandering eyes from the locals. I tried to wear a head scarf when meeting with my Jordanian girl friends. We all had fun trying to learn to wrap them around our hair and faces. This picture was taken after a night of head scarf lessons with our friends Manar and Miram. 

always with a smile

Neighborhood kids greeting us as we returned to camp, probably after a long day in the dirt. Their favorite words were, "Ah-lo, whas your name?" 

weekly water truck visit

The contents of this truck brought us the closest thing to clean by providing us with water ever week. Here the truck is filling the cisterns on the roof of our bathroom building. When the cisterns ran dry we had to, somehow, get another truck to bring us water, for a pretty penny. The worst day of the week to run out of water was Friday, the holy day. The water hole is closed on Friday and the trucks don't run. Friday's were usually the days I stayed dirty.