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.