Shopping

After work last Friday, I went shopping with the girls, which was much needed girl time and retail therapy after my first week adjustment to Pakistan living. My colleague was looking for fabric for a tunic to wear to our other colleague's wedding reception.  She wanted fabric that would match a purple shawl, a family heirloom that her mother had embroidered by hand.  

Choosing from many colorful fabric choices

After the fabric store, we went to one of their favorite clothing stores, Khaadi, where I bought a royal blue tunic topic and nearly a dozen scarves.  The word, khadi, is the term for hand-woven cloth mostly spun from cotton.  

The shalwar kameez is the traditional women's dress style consisting of baggy pajama-like trousers with a long tunic.  This is accessorized with a dupatta, a long scarf that is worn over the shoulder or draped over the shoulders like a cape.  I've noticed that professional women in Pakistan generally don't cover their heads but most have some type of shawl accessory.  Most professional women dress like this Khaadi model.

Khaadi model in a shalwar kameez with a dupatta.

In casual settings, women often wear leggings and sometimes jeans as bottoms with a tunic-style top.  My colleague explained that fashion trends for shorter above-the-knee tunics and longer ankle-length tunics rotate.  Now, she explained, the shorter tunics are the trendy item.

Traditional dress for men is a kurta, a long tunic shirt.  The taqiyah is the cap that some men wear like the man in the picture below.  Muslim men wear this cap to emulate the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) who wore one.  But in professional settings, men are more likely to wear western-style clothing. 

Khaadi male model in a kurta and taqiyah.

Successful shopping outing.

Paisley print Khaadi shopping bags

First Impressions

My flight to Pakistan involving an overnight layover in Abu Dhabi, the capitol and one of the seven emirates of the United Arab Emirates.  The layover was very brief only allowing time to check into the hotel next to the airport and get at least some sleep before my early flight to Islamabad.  Small details hinted at the area's opulence in a Muslim country.

I didn't see one non-luxury class car waiting outside the airport nor in the parking garage I walked through to get to my hotel.

White Lexuses outside Abu Dhabi Airport

In the airport, I picked up a "Time Out: Abu Dhabi" magazine, which ran a cover story of "Are you paying too much in rent?" From the story I learned that not only is rent pricey, it is common practice to pay rent annually.  This dismal situation is further burdened by the fact that landlords can legally increase the rent whenever they like.  A rental price cap was removed 4 months ago, and since then rent has increased by 16%.  This article also introduced me to Sharia Law, the Islamic religious legal code.  According to the article, in the UAE, Sharia Law does not allow unmarried couples to live together and is punishable by a prison sentence.  Sharia Law systems differ by country and are nuanced enough for a much longer discussion later.

First Images

News Anchors in Abu Dhabi (Note: the man in the lower left is signing in sign language)

Qibla, or direction of prayer, glued to bedside table

Water nozzle in the bathroom for washing feet and head for daily prayer

Religion, health, and governance seem to be the key themes for this trip.  While I'm here my project is working on a strategy to engage ulama, Islamic religious leaders, in a program that aims to create more public demand for maternal and child health services and hold the government accountable for the provision of quality services.  No easy task, but more on this later.

Back in the saddle, in Islamabad, Pakistan

It's hard to believe that a full two years has past since I last posted in this blog.  My last post was just a couple of weeks before I was accepted to graduate school.  Ever since then nearly all my extracurricular energies and even creative output like poetry have been devoted to this ambition. When your love poems are about statistical distributions, then you know you're ingrained in your science.

When I finalized my plans to go to Islamabad, Pakistan for a month for a health communication project as part of a global health grant I received as a graduate student, I figured I would dust off the 'ol "Discovering A Dream" blog.  I started this blog in the fall of 2008 when I set out to teach English for a year in Hanoi, Vietnam.  This is (almost) my longest time abroad since then (minus a 5-week South American backpacking adventure two summers ago).  Embarking on this new project in Pakistan made me reflect on my past significant international endeavors.

Reflecting back on my past trips made me laugh:

....at what an inexperienced and innocent traveler I was...

 First blog post in 2008 about first trip to Asia.  All my luggage was poorly packed.  Such an amateur.

"My first steps.  Walking through five airports in 24 hours.  Detroit. Chicago. Los Angeles. Taipei. Hanoi.  All the time praying that my overweight suitcase will make all my connecting flights while trudging through airport security lugging a briefcase, fleece coat, and my overstuffed backpack dangling a pair of tennis shoes, umbrella, bike helmet, water bottle, and a portable backpack.  Yes, I agree with the flight attendant, all I am missing is a tent."

...at how much communication technologies change....

Study abroad email circa 2007 citing AOL Instant Messanger as "essential contact information".

"Bonjour!  Thanks to everyone for all the good wishes of bon voyage! and support as I Frenchify my life.   Here is some essential contact information:

 Email: ebaughma@umich.edu  AIM Screenname: peachesb12"

...at embarrassing cultural mishaps....

 How many shades of red did I turn when someone explained what I had accidentally done?

"Today I unknowingly wrote the Vietnamese equivalent of "pussy" on the board.  My students roared with  laughter."

Reflecting also made me cry:

....when reading about some touching memories that I had forgotten...

 Teaching my Vietnamese friend how to swim on our trip to Da Nang.

"I had brought along an extra bathing suit for Van as she did not own one.  She had only been to the beach once before, two years ago.  This time we were at Lang Co Beach, which had been voted best beach 2009 in Vietnam.  It's no doubt as to why.  A stretch of beach alcove between mountains, white sand and gentle waves.  The shore still unspoiled by tourism.  

'Emily, can you teach me to swim? Emily, I want to swim in one day, is it true?'  Standing thigh deep in waves I racked my brain for a beginning point.  I showed her how to tread water with her arms to keep aloaft in the water and guided her through an elementary freestyle stroke.  Like a 7-year-old  learning to ride a bike without training wheels, I guided her through the salty water, then periodically let her go."  

Remembering my Vietnamese dan bau instrument lessons and how beautifully the blind student played.

"For my first lesson I arrive early and walk in the small practice room where a young Vietnamese boy delicately plucks the string.  He wears dark glasses.  After his lesson is over and he exits the room, I clarify with my teacher Mr. Binh.  Not knowing the Vietnamese word for blind person, I try, 'Anh ay la nguoi khong xem?'  He is a person who can't see?  'Yes', Mr. Binh says."

The moment when I was able to locate my distant Polish relatives in a small village outside Krakow.

"I sat at the kitchen table with the woman’s elderly mother, who had a striking resemblance to my own Polish grandmother.  After graciously accepting some tea, I sat in silence and witnessed the woman make phone calls in Polish wondering whom she was speaking with and what they were discussing.  Nearly an hour later, she looked at me with a huge grin.  She now had two phones in her hand, and was having two simultaneous conversations.  She was talking in Polish and handed me one of the receivers.  I heard a voice say in English, “Hello, I am Maria’s son.  My mother has told me that she has found your relatives.  Write down your phone number and she will have them contact you with the help of a translator.”  I was ecstatic."

Global Health

I think I remain the same dreamer as my blog title alludes to, although now my dreams are more sophisticated and focused.  And now, here I am, typing this from the lovely courtyard at my guesthouse in Islamabad, Pakistan.

View of Margala Hills, the scenic backdrop of Islamabad

Life's Moveable Feasts

During an TV episode of Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations: Vancouver", Anthony dines with his chef chums and asks them what they would eat for their last meal on earth.

"Fugu," one man said, "...because I'm already dying anyway!"

Fugu

To appreciate the humor of this statement is to know that fugu is the japanese word for pufferfish, a fish that--if prepared incorrectly--is lethal.  Around the table everyone laughed, their faces flushed red from too many raised glass toasts.

Later, I concluded that, certainly, there is no better way to die than around a lively dinner table with friends.  My most cherished memories have been embedded in meals rich in conversations that make my eyes sparkle.  Last weekend's dinner party was no exception: I lifted my pink plastic flute of champagne to toast my oldest friend, Ashley, on her recent engagement.  "Your love is an inspiration to all of us," I started.  Distinct memories rushed forward of the first time I met Ashley and her twin, Jenny, in kindergarten.  It seemed surreal to think that we were the same people standing here as when we viewed the world from only a couple of feet above ground.  20 years ago felt both gargantuan and miniscule.  As if those years passed by like a meandering stream but we realized our life was a single drop in an ocean.

I'd like to make my drop count by building a life of moveable feasts.  Ernest Hemingway receives credit for the poetic phrasing of moveable feasts.  And it's no surprise that Paris, a city culture of institutionalized three-hour meals, inspired this graceful truism.

Paris by night

Speaking of moveable feasts, one of the recent trends in the foodie scene is pop-up dining, which created a buzz last summer and began in...Paris. (Are you surprised?)  The New York Times documented the action and other cities wanted to prove that they were also gastronomically sophisticated.  In response, the Atlanta Underground Market organized Feast Noir, a flash mob feast in which over a 1,000 Atlantans dined al fresco on exclusively homemade food at tables of eight.

The rules were fairly straightforward:

• Wear black
• All food must be homemade
• No plastic plates, cultury, or cups
• BYOTAC (Bring Your Own Table And Chairs)

The location was undisclosed until the morning of the feast.  Preparing dishes for a meal with strangers at an unknown location provided a new challenge to my host of dinner party skills.  The actual event was a delight, as I expected dining with fellow gourmets to be.  A sommelier told tall tales of the wine business and another couple described their organic farm produce they sell at local farmer's markets.  We shared a meal together but more importantly, we built a community.  As night fell, we packed up our things and left, trusting our feast to memory's safekeeping.  Hoping for another moveable feast.  

Feast Noir 2011
Photo Courtesy of Jessica Wolff

Did You Know...

...that the Creative Class is changing the world?

Free Poems on Demand at the Decatur Book Festival

A man with three daughters.  Good legs. Monsters.  Hiding.  Sambones the dog.  Red lemons.  Sandwiches.  Bacon.  Healing.  Peace.

1.  Are the above names of...

a) Next year's summer blockbuster titles

b) Poetry titles

c) Award-winning Thoroughbred horse names

d) None of the above

If you were to pass the Free Poems on Demand tent at the Decatur Book Festival you might be able to deduce the correct answer, b) Poetry titles.  On Saturday afternoon I joined a couple of other poets from Free Poems ATL to write free poems on demand for festival-goers.  Free Poems ATL is a literary performance group that launched at last year's Decatur Book Festival and writes free poems based on any topic requested.    

Some passerby were hesitant to request topics.  Four people requested a poem about love.  One elderly couple approached the table, wanting a poem about love.  Jimmy, the poet sitting next to me, responded to the women that three love poems had already been written and suggested that she choose another topic.  "Well, how about old people love!" she exclaimed, "We're recently married," she softly explained.  Another person named "poop" as a poem topic.  One young man requested a poem for himself, wanted another poem for his sister, and called his mother asking her to choose a poem topic.

On average each poem took me 12 minutes to write.  

Here is a poem I wrote about bacon:

                                                            Another poem about hiding:

And last, my favorite poem of the day about red lemons:

Table-to-Farm: A Compost Institution

One of the more recent (and I might add, increasing fascinating) tenants in my apartment-block brain, is composting.  As I learn more about composting or the transformative process of food scraps to nutrient-rich soil, I can imagine this waste reduction process taking on an environmental "coolness" factor akin to bringing canvas bags to the grocery store to eliminate the paper or plastic bags you consume each shopping trip.  Food waste is the second largest waste stream in the United States after paper, according to the Environmental Protection Agency.  (Pretty interesting considering we are suffering from a national obesity epidemic.)  Considering this disturbing fact, why is composting not more institutionalized as a common form of recycling?  We have bins for plastic, paper, and glass--but where is the bin for my banana peel and stale bread?  Farm-to-table dining is the foodie's buzz word of the year.  But what about table-to-farm?  How about a full-cycle food industry?  A girl can dream.  For now I'll add "American Wasteland: How America Throws Nearly Half of Its Food (and What We Can Do About It)  to my reading list.