Politik

The irony is this

We don't watch TV...in fact, we don't even have one anymore, so it was only today that I came to learn about this interview on 60 minutes with the president of Iran which aired in late September.

It is, sadly, another example of agendized media, with the interviewer hardly even listening to his guest, asking blatantly biased questions, and generally botching another opportunity to learn more about Iran, it's philosophies, it's culture, and it's place in the global scheme of things - political or otherwise. Ahmadinejad, as always, was quiet and respectful in his replies; never giving on that he was the subject of yet another farce marquerading as diplomacy.

I've really struggled with my feelings about Iran these past few years - it's a beautiful country with ugly laws that strangle the voices and souls of it's people. It's a modern place with the latest technology and fashion but shuttles itself into the darkness of an age passed with a bizarre control on art, music, information, and the internet. I've also struggled with feelings about my own government - the war in Iraq, the way Bush came to office, the strange mythology we're building around Islam where now the very word is mutually exclusive with 'terrorism'...
But the crucial difference is, I feel entirely comfortable writing and talking about the American government; penning the name of the president and attaching all manner of frustrated, pointedly negative sentiments. He may not like what I have to say if he ever took the time to read it, but he certainly wouldn't question my freedom to have done so, and no one would punish me for it in any sense of the word.

These latest public interactions with Iran's leader have left me both disappointed and utterly confused. On the one hand I have questions of my own, and they can never hope to be answered if the only people Ahmadinejad ever speaks to are under-the-table henchmen for the Bush team or media personalities with government hands making deposits in their pockets. But on the other hand, I'd be pretty damn scared to actually voice my questions if given the opportunity. That fear itself would be the basis for one of my most important questions: Does it mean something to him to know that I am afraid to ask the very questions I am most curious to learn the answers to? Does it mean something to him to know that I am afraid to write, that I actually hesitate before every word I type, when the topic is the Islamic Republic?

There are many things I never wrote while I was there - oh, nothing major. There were no big scandals I kept hidden. No observations of mythic proportion. But there were a number of little things I kept to myself; feelings about what it was like to be a woman in Iran in particular. I've been there and experienced life in Iran, at least as much as I could in the brief two and a half month visit, and I don't think Iran is an evil place or that it's government is the axis of anything at all, other than itself. It's people weren't any different from anyone else I've ever met in my worldly adventures. I see Iran more as a strange, exotic place with even stranger regulations...but still, I'd like the opportunity to know why some things exist as they do. Why women ride in the back of the bus, even while traveling with their husbands, who sit near the front. Why my hair is illegal. Why my voice is illegal. Is my voice such a terrible thing? Is my opinion such a weapon? But most importantly, I'd like to know why I must feel afraid to ask those questions in the first place.

My questions aren't based in anyone's political camp. I'm not aiming to control, or manipulate, or even change anything with my questions. I just want to know 'Why', because I'm curious, like a child. I have similar questions for the leaders of Singapore where it was illegal for me to chew gum in public. Or the leaders of Thailand, where it was illegal for me to speak against the king. I have a multitude of questions for my own nation's leaders, and I'm dead certain those will never be answered; not truthfully anyway.

But, I'm really very proud of my connection to Iran and I was blessed to have been able to go, to have been treated so well and to have experienced one of the most feared nations on the planet from the inside and come out the other end unscathed and all the more educated. Many people openly said that they thought I was crazy to go there; but many people said the same thing to me about India, for different reasons obviously...but I chalked it all up to their own fear of the unknown and went anyway. Iran is an amazing country centered around a beautiful religion - nothing like what we've been conditioned to believe...still, I have a few questions that want to be answered. I'm just afraid to ask.

In lumine Tuo videbimus lumen

That's the motto for Columbia University, one of the most respected Ivy League schools in America, situated in one of the most progressive cities in the nation. It reads "In Thy light shall we see the light". And after the recent bullish political antics of the institution's president, couldn't be more of a joke.

I'm a bit behind the times these days, not paying much attention to the politics of life - with our move back to the States coming up in less than two weeks I'm preoccupied and honestly, I find the neverending soap opera that is the world political stage quite boring (for it's hopelessness) lately. But when I received numerous emails from friends and colleagues in New York about the uproar Ahmadinejad's visit to the East Coast had caused I dug further and found, among others, this LA Times article.

The news out of New York (ie: the American media) is that the Iranian president had the usual inflammatory, oddball things to say - most notably his statement that there are 'no homosexuals in Iran'. (While he personally may not know of any, they certainly exist. But in a country where these things are punishable in the most violent ways who on earth is going to flaunt it?) In any case, maybe I'm picking on the wrong character here, but it wasn't the self-fulfilling prophecy of whatever bizarre things Ahmadinejad had to say that upset me, but rather the equally bizarre behavior of Bollinger, the president of Columbia, who introduced Iran's leader to his student-body audience with a thirty minute speech chock full of blatant insults and sheer rudeness aimed directly at his guest. The introduction consisted of the words: 'astonishingly uneducated', 'belligerent', 'ridiculous' and 'preposterous'...

As the head of a highly respected educational institution Bollinger had a responsibility to choose his words carefully; he spoke for his faculty, he spoke for the students who pay through the nose to patronize his holier-than-thou college, and in some ways, as the host of this charade, he spoke for New York and America in general. So, what did this figurehead do with the very rare and precious opportunity for a civilian to speak directly with one of the most controversial political leaders of our time? How did he approach what could have been a true learning opportunity for not only his students, himself, but his guest and our nation as a whole? He took the stage for the sheer purpose of vomiting his personal opinions all over Ahmadinejad and then abandoned him to the audience's pitchfork questions.

I'm not saying Ahmadinejad should be handled with kid gloves; but a certain amount of respect and kudos should be afforded the man who stepped out of his own comfort zone in order to communicate directly with university students in our country. Ahmadinejad is a professor himself, teaching at Tehran University (where his own students sometimes protest in the streets outside) and as such, it would seem an especially meaningful allowance on his part to take the time to visit with Columbia. Whatever his own political agenda, whatever the state of human rights in his country - he made the effort; and gave us, the citizens, a chance to speak with him firsthand instead of hearing him through the thick filter of bureaucrats and media translations we're usually fed from. And what on earth did we learn about Iran or it's leader from this very public verbal stoning? As far as I can see, absolutely nothing; and all because Bollinger took it upon himself to devolve the summit into a personal sounding board. What did we learn about ourselves? Plenty, I hope...but I'm not holding my breath.

Ahmadinejad said a number of strange things after Bollinger handed him over to the crowd. But one thing he said that makes perfect sense, and we'd do well to learn from was, "In Iran, when we invite a guest, we show them respect."

After the event was over Bollinger touted himself as a 'speak[er] of truth to power', lauded our nation's freedoms of opinion and speech, and those freedoms truly are things to be celebrated - but his arrogant waste of an opportunity for real discourse is an absolute shame and makes a mockery of our nation and it's 'freedoms', ultimately further proving what the rest of the world already says about America behind it's back, that we are a nation of loud-mouthed bullies. That's the truth everyone else is speaking in nearly every country on the planet today, in light of this event.

If Bollinger had upheld the high standards of his Ivy League school, if he had taken the motto "In lumine Tuo videbimus lumen" to heart it quite possibly could have been the single most enlightening and future-forward movement to take place between Iran and America in the last thirty years. But no, instead, Columbia's face-man threw that very possibility straight into the trash. Not exactly what I would call 'seeing the light'.

Keep your umbrella to yourself

I hesitate to publish this, even as I hit the button that will send these words into cyberspace...In fact, I've been sitting on it for weeks. But whatever. Haters, please don't send me 'anti-Islam' messages. And pundits, don't bother with the lecture on my lack of political savvy and patriotism. (If you're going to anyway...please check your spelling - it gets kind of tedious deciphering angry verbless prose, especially when it's full of typos.)

I'm American, and I'm also Muslim - recently converted to Islam out of love for my Persian husband, yes...but first and foremost out of my respect for the philosophy that is inherent in the faith.
Before you offer me your knee-jerk reactions to that statement, consider this: Islam shares the same basic tenets as Christianity, Judaism, and nearly all other major world religions. They're all essentially based on the same concept: love, forgiveness, compassion for others. Granted, some individuals have skewed the message of Islam into a bizarre and violent movement, but don't assume for even one second that just because I am Muslim, or anyone else for that matter, that these negativities prevail across the entire population. I have nothing in common with Osama Bin Laden, aside from the fact that we agree that Bush is kind of a pinhead, and we are both Muslim. The relation begins and ends there. For the record, I also think Osama is a pinhead (there are much, much stronger terms I could apply to both figureheads, actually...but for the sake of civility I'll leave it at that.) With all of this in mind:

When I saw the news report that Osama Bin Laden had released another video tape and that in it he encouraged the American people to convert to Islam as a way of staving off further death and destruction, my first (and very sarcastic) reaction was, 'Well, I guess I'm covered then...'

But the truth of the matter is, simply being Muslim isn't what these people want for the global population. That isn't the point, and conversion isn't enough to satisfy them. There are a number of sects within Islam, I happen to sit on the Shiia side of the fence and for this reason I am just as subject to Osama's wrath as any other non-Muslim American. Shiia is a true minority in the grand scheme of the Islamic faith, with Iran being the only largely Shiia country on the planet. Al Q'aeda, Osama's own personal army, is Sunni. That's not to say that Sunnis as a whole are inclined toward this kind of fanatical expression of the faith; I'm just pointing out that Al Q'uaeda is a Sunni-based group and that because I am part of the Shiia belief system I am also on their shit list.

Why is this important? Because, as I said, it simply isn't good enough, in their eyes, that people should convert to Islam. You're technically expected (according to Osama's rules of the game) to pick sides. Sunnis have, historically, warred against the Shiia sect just as much as any other group (Americans, westerners, capitalists, etc.). Many of the acts of terrorism carried out inside Iraq in recent years were directly targeted at Shiia religious travelers who were journeying to and from holy Shiia shrines inside the war torn country. Their faith is so strong, they willingly cross the border from Iran into Iraq just to get a glimpse of these holy places, and they are cut down by other Muslims without a second thought.

The endless news reports from inside Iraq about how the country had to build literal walls inside Baghdad to keep the two groups apart is further evidence of the infighting that continues among Muslims.

The thing that troubles me about the news reports and discussion surrounding Osama's video (aside from his crazy vision that the entire world pray a specific kind of assan with him every day), and just about anything else related to terrorism these days, is the singular focus on Islam as a whole. The lack of explanation, differentiation, and analysis of the historical relationships within Islam leads to this 'they all look the same' mentality whereby anyone who is Muslim is automatically pegged as 'the other' and is viewed as a potential threat.

I get that the concept of 'Love, see no color' doesn't really work, particularly when applied to something so personal as religious belief...there is not going to be any hand-holding and singing about this. This is not a war that can be won with a big dose of love and happy thoughts. But it is a war simply because the 'other side' (ie - Osama) has made it so; and these people, whatever religion they brand themselves with, are just plain scary. But I feel the need to at least point out that not every Muslim is a terrorist, and not every call to Islam is an open ticket to safety. It may sound ridiculously obvious, but with hundreds of news stories every day directly associating 'war', 'terrorism', and 'death' with 'Islam' - there is a certain amount of mental and social conditioning going on under the surface. For every report you read that 'Muslim' or 'Islamic' terrorist groups have done such and such, how many stories do you see that explain the deeply splintered internal structure of Islam; or better yet, explore the softer, everyday side of what it is to be Muslim? And how deep does your own investigation into one of the oldest faiths on the planet ever actually go?

Well, I'll tell you one thing about Islam, it isn't anything strange or bizarre and it's not based in violence...it's just people living their lives, sharing faith in God and hoping this umbrella of misunderstanding doesn't cast the devious shadow of suspicion over them too because some pinhead with a video camera has a big mouth and crazy ideals.

Oh dear...

When I was younger I was always fascinated by the stories of people who should have been on the Titanic but switched their tickets at the last moment, or those who should have been on such and such a flight but slept through their alarm, cursing their bad luck when they finally awoke to realize they were never going to make it in time; learning hours later that their plane had crashed.

Well, in preparation for our upcoming departure from Nepal I've been bugging Hamid about going into Kathmandu's China Town to buy another suitcase. We were going to go today but inhereted a rain-inspired laze and decided to stay home instead. Turns out that laziness was more to our advantage after all.

We've just received an email from the United States Embassy here in Kathmandu letting us know that four bombs went off in different parts of the city today. And one of the explosions was right in the area we would have been shopping at. It's all something to do with the upcoming elections and I'm happy to know we'll be leaving just in time, considering, and won't be here for the aftermath of what is likely to be one of Nepal's most violent political seasons in years.

Now this isn't nearly as dramatic as fortuitously missing the sinking of the Titanic, but it's a close call nonetheless.

Long live the king, where's the WC?

The royal palace is just up the street from our house. It's big and pink; fashioned at the height of the 70's I'd guess - looking more like a library than the home of royalty. It has none of the charm of the Newari style I so love about Kathmandu's crumbling older buildings.

We pass the distasteful deco palace every once in a while when we're out for a walk; using it's four or five city blocks of property as a median for the journey.

I'd previously been perplexed by the very sour and heavy smell of pee all along one entire side of the palace grounds. A king's residence would hardly seem the kind of place that would be left guilty of reeking insufferably of human excrement, but there it is. Every time choking us to tears and doubling Hamid over in near wretches at some of the stronger smelling areas.

But now that I've heard and seen in person what the locals think of the king I've developed a theory and am completely convinced they're using his compound walls as a toilet.

Today, on our way to the beautiful mountaintop village of Nagacort we were suddently stopped dead in traffic - wall to wall cars, motorcycles, and trucks sandwiched in together on a one way street with no hope of moving any time soon.

People started exiting their vehicles to see what was the matter; some of them climbing onto the hood or roof for a better view. As I didn't feel all that inclined to scramble onto the roof of our taxi I joined the growing crowd of Nepalis moving swiftly down the sidewalk toward the scene of whatever was keeping us parked.

At the next intersection there was a distinct energy of chaos and confusion. The Nepali police were trying to keep order amidst the crowd I'd walked up with as they prepared to merge with the fast approaching mele of literally thousands carrying sticks, clubs, and the red Maoist flag.

I hesitated long enough to climb up on a lightpost and snap a few pictures of the demonstration and then quietly slunk away from what was fast becoming a possible riot - but not before noticing a banner hanging on the same street. Big, white, with an image of Nepal's monarch smack dab in the middle; his broad brown face surrounded by red lettering proclaiming the king's relationship to God followed by an exultant "Long live the King!"

Back in the car we waited for the event to pass so we could continue on our way and in the meantime grilled our driver on what the whole scene had been about. This is essentially what he told us:

"King no good. Many people like fight king police with sticks. Like fight king. Many Maoists. Understand? King no good."

Upon further questioning he relented his own political views, "Mao Tse-Tung good. Many people like Mao. Many Nepali."

The buzzing crowd of angry Maoists must have found another road to inhabit and we were finally allowed to move forward. As we inched along the street and into the same intersection I'd been snapping pictures at I again saw the king's banner - only this time it was ripped to shreds, laying in tatters on the sidewalk, half in the street; taking further abuse from under the string of cars. Our own wheels met the lonely monarch's face mid- forehead and left a muddy tire print down his happy visage.

I felt sorry for him immediately - to live in a pink, pee-smelling palace styled to look like some kind of institution rather than a homey, opulent, dignified residence fit for a king; surrounded by people who hate him and apparently take great pleasure in using his garden walls as a rest stop.

Cult of Personality

I can't decipher what they're saying as it's all local dialect but they're certainly loud enough to be heard; cruising down our street in a white van equipped with two extra-large bullhorns spewing into the air at full volume what I can only assume is a call to their Communist agenda. With a big red flag billowing out behind them, the Maoists have apparently invaded our otherwise quiet Samakushi neighborhood.

Like Napoleon, but without the horse, I ran through the house shouting to Hamid, "The Maoists are coming! The Maoists are coming!" I wanted to point out these exotic interlopers like a tourist appreciating the local flavor - but my excitement was immediately sobered by the realization that these are 'the bad guys'.

I don't pretend to understand the politics they engender or the space these guerilla rebels occupy in the culture we're currently camped out in but it certainly was a bit of a surprise, and admittedly quite interesting, to look up from my work to spy the giant red symbol of Communism flying gaily in the morning breeze just outside the compound walls beyond our garden.

Fortunately, they did not stop in for tea.

Until further notice

Or at least until I get some sleep....I just can't seem to get the chicken scratch I penned while we were in Turkey these past two weeks from paper to keyboard.

However, at the risk of wrecking the anticipation I'll jump ahead a bit for now and report that we *did* in fact receive Hamid's visa to the States during our visit with the Embassy in Ankara. It took all of five minutes in the end and I had to check the bottoms of my new stilettos after we had left the interview and were seated, stunned and happy, in the back of a yellow Turkish 'taksi' - I wasn't at all convinced I'd actually walked out of there; it was really something more like ethereal floating. Sure enough, that famous Loubitin red was still patently shiny and completely intact.

Be here now

Awake at six a.m.!? and I'm wondering what has happened to the natural order of things?
Daily now, I keep the schedule of a farmer - awake at hours I've not seen since the glowing red eyes of a much-hated digital alarm would snarl me out of my eighth grade Catholic schoolgirl sleep, and in bed at a time normally reserved for the seven-to-ten year old crowd serving time grounded [my own parents always called it 'restriction' which sounded worse; relatively causing more suffering simply for the name of it.]

For two weeks now I've been privy to the sunrise, a spectacle to be sure; especially from our rooftop balcony four floors up. On one side lives a very tall and verdant forest and on the other three sit small, fat cousins of the Himalayas endlessly piled up on eachother. The view is no small work of art and I am reminded of the friendly bearded man broadcast on Seattle's Channel 9 public programming, painting his heart out every afternoon and quipping all the while about brush strokes or shadowing as he manifested 'happy little trees' and 'cheerful mountains'.

The view also reminds me a bit of the spectacle from our rooftop in Tehran and were it not for odd whims of the universe I imagine I'd be waking up there now instead of Nepal. If that were the case we'd have a flight of just a few hours to look forward to today - instead we've got something like 24 hours travel time in front of us with most of it spent in the transit lounge in Delhi, India. In any other circumstance we'd just exit the airport and take a room for the time being but because securing a transit visa for my darling would be nothing short of an exercise in frustration (dealing with Indian customs officials is now and forever will be way down on my list of pleasureable activities) we're going to spend the twelve or so hours between flights practicing our skills at living in a terminal.

Once, I washed my hair in Bangalore's airport bathroom on a trip to Goa, and I've slept in more than a few airports in my life; most recently in Thailand and Sri Lanka. With my luggage serving as a kind of pillow I'd self-consciously doze in and out, waking up to find some small child peering down at me or a group of maintenance people giggling together as they swept past me with a pile of rubbish in tow. It's not the most comfortable way to get from point A to point B but it is what it is and at least it's somewhere in between this early morning anxiety of 'how will this all pan out?' and actually knowing the answer.

I'm not nervous about the fliying, although I absolutely cringe at takeoffs and landings. It's the reason behind our trip that settles in my stomach like a heavy stone. Obtaining a United States immigrant visa for my Iranian husband has proven to be one of the most challenging and complicated games I've ever played. With yet another interview on the horizon and memories of a much failed interaction with the Consul in Chennai we're both filled with that same excitement of possibility but it's now tinged with a little fear. These people literally hold the keys to one of our possible futures and I've heard some intimidating stories about interviews turned interrogation that leave me feeling the slightest bit wary. Apparently, they are just as interested in seeing me as they are Hamid - curious to learn if I've been converted to a hard-core Islamic tradition (ie - will I be in hajib or scarf?) or if we're a more 'socially appropriate' mix of modernity and faith. I'll be wearing stilettos and a sundress - no sense leaving any question which axis we take our fashion queues from now is there?

Anyway, as much as I'd sincerely love to continue to wake up in Kathmandu indefinitely, Nepal just isn't the place we've worked so hard to get to. We've paid taxes to the United States government since the inception of our business, we've shopped for houses in our American neighborhood of choice, we've researched the process for acquiring Hamid's coveted PhD in CS as well as extending my own university studies (I'm thinking a switch from Philosophy to Theology is in order), we've even gone so far as to research birthing centers and midwives - all with the idea that America is 'the best place on earth' (regardless of the inherent political issues, it's still a belief I hold as truth after living abroad so many years). At the very least America has the best internet connections and sidewalks (yes, sidewalks) on the planet...two things I've added to the list of "I miss..."

With all the packing done and arrangements made there's nothing left for me to do at this point other than wait. Wait for it to be time to go, wait for boarding, wait for the sweet business class crew to bring me something wonderful to eat, wait for the bloody mary I am destined to imbibe en-route, wait to see if our hotel is all it's meant to be, wait to be interviewed about how much I love my husband.

Fortunately I'm much more practiced these days at the art of handling the strange imbalances that exist in my intercontinental life, and sit on the roof surrounded by the happy little trees and cheerful mountains as the sun comes up, typing all of my anxst and worry onto the page so I can, at least for the time being, leave it there and be here now.

You are so not funny

As if there was any question...but now it's doubly clear who I'm not voting for.
From CNN, a brief report on and video of McCain making up his own little ditty about the possibility of bombing Iran.
Anyone who finds it appropriate to joke about killing people, an entire nation - Iran or otherwise, is a bad choice for leadership in my book. I generally think of death and destruction as a 'bad thing'. But hey, that's just me.

Just put up a map and throw a dart...

Well, I'm doing my very best to pretend that it doesn't freak me out at all that we're leaving India permanently in less than two months and we still don't really know where we're going...but I do believe in the power of imagination, and I've successfully 'faked' my way through many difficult life transitions and am comforted by the fact that eventually whatever it was I simply believed I was experiencing settled itself in nicely as reality.
There are plenty of people who will say that that just doesn't make sense. That a person can't just fake their way through the bad parts until the bad parts are as convinced as you that they just don't exist - but let me tell you I can, I do, and I will.

We may or may not be going to Iran after all, and for reasons better left undisclosed at this point so it's not really worth getting into at all except to say that it essentially leaves us drifting along in the global scheme of things with no real direction. Until recently, it was to be the next stop after Nepal, and a nice locae in relation to our needing to be in Turkey at some point (the when of which I still have no idea as we wait to hear from someone at the U.S. Embassy in Ankara) but for now at least, it's looking less like an option. A shame really; I'd quite gotten myself geared up for it by ordering loads of capri pants and wedges from the States in anticipation of making due with the dress code. I even decided to sample a pair of ballet flats...something I'd not ordinarily be caught dead in but is so insanely popular in Tehran I decided to at least attempt them. Fortunately, Coach makes a lovely version called 'Joy'.

In any case, I'll cart my stuff along to wherever...and Nepal is looking likely at this point as they allow foreigners five months (150 days in any visa year) in the country without any major hassle, and of course Miss Jess is there now; complete with hotel=bathtub and connections through her darling to help us find a house, set up WiFi and all the other things one needs to stay in business in the virtual world.

And then, there's Turkey - a certainty at some point, and allowing foreigners a three month visa at the port of entry. I'm not sure of the possibility of a visa extension there, but assuming they are reasonable I'd say we can eke out at least another thirty days beyond that. So, we're covered for approximately nine months past the end of May (and both countries will allow us to bring Mooshy in with proper papers...yet another piece of the puzzle).

If we've not been awarded Hamid's visa to the States at that point we'll be looking at another round of applications from scratch as his original forms, doctor's reports, and affidavits are only valid for 365 days after they are initially submitted.

We watch the news, understanding something of how the U.S. is working with Iranian visas these days: not issuing them in time for the President of Iran to arrive for a meeting at the U.N. I mean, if they can't get it together to issue him a visa in time for a meeting of international world leaders we're concerned that we're now facing the gloomier side of our expectations as surely we are much farther down on their list of what and who is important.

I'm now scrutinizing the paperwork that was sent to me when we were first asked to come to the Consulate here in Chennai, India as well as the way the case was handled once we arrived for the interview and realizing that we kind of got played.
First they made a big deal about my income, but according to their little chart I make three times what is required for a family of two to return to the States with the better half on an entry visa. My 12 months worth of freshly printed PDF bank statements were of no importance though.
Then they suggested that I no longer have ties to the United States, having been in India so long - but when I offered a letter signed by both of my parents essentially imploring the Consul to issue the visa so we could come home already the girl looked at me from behind her wire rim glasses and mustache and said "Yeah, I have a mom too..." as if I had some elaborate plan to convince her that my parents love me and know exactly where I am when, as far as she was concerned, I don't have and never did have any parents at all.
Only after I returned three hours later, frustrated and confused, did they announce that we would have to go to one of five other countries to complete the application.
In response to my flustered demeanor the Consul asked me if I'd like him to 'expatriate me, right here, right now' - as if that was the solution to all my troubles. Yes, they are sensitive folks those government employees.

Sad...really...I was initially so impressed with everyone else we'd met with and talked to throughout the process.

Anyway, since my own country is in no big hurry to make it easy for me to come home with my husband (anything else is out of the question, so don't even suggest it) I'm scanning Embassy and Immigration websites for as many countries as I can dream up, calculating where we can get the most tourist visa leeway and how many days we can stay, etc. etc.

Kind of fun, really...having nowhere to go and so many amazing options in the meantime.

It was either PMS or the truth

The truth is I was a bit upset when I wrote the last post - there was an article in the local paper about how India's social values must incorporate more creative arts in order to flourish and with everything else that's been going on around here lately it just sent me over the edge. Yes, creative arts are crucial to a blossoming society and it's people - but so are the basics like clean water, social health, and a good education - things sorely and so obviously lacking in this nation. These days, India just makes me sad, and being sad makes me tired. And so I'm sad and I'm tired and really just ready to get out of here.

Fortunately, we've just received the very last of the papers we need to make ourselves presentable to the U.S. Consulate - very exciting developments indeed.
We expect to know if they will make the rest of the process very, very easy or very, very hard for us sometime in the next two months. In all honesty, I'm thinking they're likely to be quite nice and helpful - if they opt not to be my own fate as a girl very much in love with her husband and not seeing separation as an option would lie somewhere in the vicinity of Iran proper - and I'm banking on the guess that at this particular juncture they'd like to keep their own a little closer to home than that.

In the meantime, I'm getting packed for next weekend when I've to go on my twice-yearly excursion to Sri Lanka for a bubble bath and some good duty-free shopping. Just 24 hours on the quiet island will make a world of difference in my perspective. And when I return we'll start counting down the days until we can pack up for good...

Don't hate the player, hate the game

With Annan practically begging for those in charge to begin acting in a way that embodies peace Ahmadinejad quite rudely was not even present for George Bush's statements to the United Nations (which, I hesitate to admit, for once actually struck a positive chord with me) and the American UN seats were also notably empty as the president of Iran spoke later in the day.

I find it ridiculous that the two nationheads should act in this way, fighting like a bitter divorced couple - unable to be in the same room together even for the sake of the rest of the family. As far as I can see there is no solution on the horizon and everyone else seems quite tired of the bickering, the threatening, the backhanded statements written and delivered with intelligent malice and a smile that vaguely dissuades immediate reaction.

They don't agree? Fine. Don't like eachother? Fine. Don't want to work together? Fine.
Stop wasting time and just give someone else the job.