exercise in energy

Thursday morning: climbing at Carderock, knocked out one I've been dying to try, although went a bit off route
Friday night: dancing with the co-workers at Gua-rapo's, closed it down (have been doing that a lot recently--amazing how partying intensifies with the coinciding of school work getting heavier)
Saturday night: pig roast, NC style; followed by Octoberfest party, and nightcapping at a dive bar in Clarendon
Sunday: tasty breakfast at the Original Pancake House, followed by hiking at Big Schloss in GW National Forest, followed by seeing Death Cab for Cutie at 9:30 Club

In case you're wondering, I will be WORKING on Halloween weekend.

weekends

Last weekend I went to my second Christian wedding. It was loads of fun, in the middle of scenic Roanoke, where surprisingly I found a supermarket ... um okay not the most exciting of discoveries. But anyway, I found it an interesting cultural experience, since most the weddings I attend are Bengali Muslim weddings.

Things I liked:

Priest asks: Who gives her away? (or something like that)
Father: Her mother and I

Also after doing a father and daughter dance at the reception, the groom also dances with his mother

I have to admit I tuned out during the evangelical bits, but otherwise quite excited to see the bride was very there, not like how I imagine I would be, a couple servings of bourbon with a side of valium.

blog lite

When I came back from Qatar, I was plunged into mid-term hell. I'm still recuperating and about to take another final gasp of air before I plunge into the pool of graduate school finals and preparing for another big trip for work.

So I will summarize. Had fantastic food at Oyamel (its been so long I don't even remember if I blogged about this). Heartily recommend it. Not too keen on Acadiana though, newest venture from the group that brought DC Ceiba, TenPenh, and DC Coast (I've never dined at the latter two). Also if you want fresh, inexpensive, delicious quick sushi that's not your grocery store variety, only three words: Nooshi Carry Out (on 19th between L and M).

Nooooooooooooooo

Red is dead. There is no place like Red, and no place that has music like Red. I guess I'll just have to go to NYC more often.

ninja women

Thank you New York Times for reporting on this. I am consistently pounding my head against a wall when I'm trying to break down stereotypes Westerners have of Muslim women. When I went to Qatar I tried to use humor to make the American guys I was with see the other side of the story.

Me: I want to buy an abaya and wear it.
Them: (look of concern on their faces)
Me: That way I could wear it at meetings and nobody would know that I was asleep
Them: (howls of laughter)
Me: And I could walk down the street and pretend not to see people that I didn't want to talk to, and best of all, they wouldn't even know it was me!
Them: (howls of laughter)

GMT +7 Pic

Yea, of all the pics I took in Doha, they were mostly of Western establishments. One night we went to the souqs (street markets) but I forgot my camera and will ping my colleague who had taken pictures. Also I mostly took pictures of people in Doha because, honestly that was all there was to see!!! Yes I suppose I could've taken a picture of the expansive desert (but not even a picturesque kind with large sand dunes). The people pictures may eventually be posted on my Flickr! account.

A nod to a Portuguese chicken place!!! Finally I tried it after my colleagues and cousins raved about it ... in Doha of all places, and on the first night of Ramadan.

The infamous Sheraton in Doha. The top is where I had dinner.

Unfortunatley I didn't take very many pictures in Qatar. Whenever we were out it was during the evening so it wasn't like I could take very good pictures of anything. But here's me in front of the Lebanese restaurant on the south end of Corniche.

Street festival in Frankfurt.

Main River in Frankfurt.

The post WWII rebuilt square.

Frankfurt street scene.

The requisite fort on each hill top above Idar.

So I promised pictures. Idar Oberstein. I got into town just as everything closed, hence the deserted feel.

flights

Six hours from NYC to Washington. The plane was on the verge of a mutiny but I was surprised by how most people kept their cool and didn't complain too much. The problem was Reagan Airport. The weather had deteriorated so much that by the time they opened, and we had the go ahead (my flight from JFK got cancelled so they cabbed us to LaGuardia to catch an another already delayed flight) after sitting on the tarmac for almost 2 hours, we took off. I opened my eyes 45 minutes later to see fog. Or a cloud or something. And then a brief moment of DC's city lights, the quick strip of runway which quickly flew under the wheels before the jet climbed back into the sky. Thirty minutes later we landed in Richmond. The pilot, after only being able to see the runway after descending to 7,000 feet decided not to risk landing at Reagan and took us to Richmond to refuel. My fellow seatmates were seriously considering renting a car and driving.

6 Hours. That was my flight from Heathrow to JFK. Next time I'm just flying to Dulles and putting the cab fare on the company account.

outside the beltway

The District of Columbia is a very different place than Columbia, MD, Arlington, VA, Richmond, VA, Los Angelos, CA, or New York City, New York. And its the most interesting thing to hear what people think of DC even though their experience is based on miserable tourist trips with a vehicle (remember METRO, use the METRO outside travelers!!! It's the city's not so well kept secret). I've only heard two positive things about my beautiful dear and lovely city that I call home while talking to other fellow Americans. I heard from them: great culture, arts, museums, theaters, dining, and concerts. And then I hear them speak miserly of the traffic, the people they hate, the beltway bandits, politicians, bureaucrats, lawyers, and again the people they hate.

Thanks for making me feel welcome. And I'm sorry they have such a limited view of what the city has to offer. Surely if they were standing on the wrong side of the escalator at Metro Center and got run over by a stampede of harried commuters, they might've found the lack of apologies intolerable. Surely if they were in traffic and found when they turned their blinker on to merge, it seemed everyone sped up. Perhaps when they were starving, they nearly collapsed waiting in line at the McDonald's, or when they planned a trip to the monuments, they were unhappy to find themselves emptying the contents of their bookbag to the security guards. Well I don't know if any of these things happened to them.

But surely I think they would change their mind if they saw what I saw. Beautiful weekday afternoons hiking along Mather Gorge (or better climbing in Mather Gorge), biking along the Mt Vernon trail (laughing at the traffic), the down-to-earth people chilling at the Red Room (Black Cat), rockin' out at the 9:30 Club, hanging out with our neighbors at the local bar--only a block away, taking a stroll in Dupont on a Sunday morning, reading the paper at Teaism, getting a recommendation for a painter from a Reverend at the Rhode Island Home Depot, admiring fresh vegetables at the farmer's market, seeing a friend unexpectedly while walking around the block, the transexual prostitute who asks me how I'm doing when I step out of my building to go to work at 4:30 AM, and frankly the cure-all to all the city's woes: a gin martini from Zaytinya's exquisite bar (or any of the other notable DC bar). So my DC readers, tell these people who think we're cynics because we have "TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION" on our license plates why they are just as cynical for thinking our lovely built-on-a-swamp city is a crap hole.

small worlds

The funniest thing about traveling is I get extremely geared up for unfamiliar sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and faces. However the most stunning thing about traveling is realizing how familiar everything really is. In my case, I was flabbergasted when I saw a person I had known to be in a different part of world to call my name from the sidewalk. As I looked at him, the name and face registered and then my eyes immediately refocused so I could look at the background (the ruby colored sky turning violet during twilight over the desert). I honestly had to do a mental check to make sure that a) I wasn't dreaming b) I wasn't hallucinating c) I really was in Qatar. I can't even begin to describe how ecstatic I was to see someone from home, who had been away from home and in a place neither of us expected to be together. The evening became a surrealistic familiarness ... we went to a 'Western mall' which we immediately exited to see how pedestrian friendly Doha was. Yesterday night I saw him off as he returned home. Its interesting how our out-of-context meeting helped us see different sides of each other. Soon enough we'll see each other in the familiar surroundings of our beginnings.

rest and relaxation

Regardless of what I think of this war, tonight I had an experience that put everything in perspective. The kind of perspective that makes me feel like none of the bully pulpit pounding that goes on in Washington DC means anything and the type of perspective that puts razor sharp lines around purpose like a glaring street light. I was surounded by young men and women taking a break from the war up North, emotionally battle scarred, worn, eager and hungry for a friendly face. I overheard their stories, stories of uncommon heroism. A mechanic, not just any mechanic, but an infantry mechanic whose job included cleaning out vehicles that came back from the combat zone, covered in his comrade's blood and bones. Of a young woman who had the bottom half of her face torn away, survived for a day, and then died, leaving behind three young children, none of whom were her own. When I was listening uninvited to the conversation, the heat of tears filled my eyes. This is the closest I've physically gotten to the war in Iraq, and I almost felt selfish for wanting to cry. Maybe I felt they (soldiers) bleed inside in a different way, wondering which one of their friends would make it back to the barracks, or if he would be able to console his wife if he gets back at the end of his tour. Crying felt very selfish then. I would never know the bounds of their sadness and pain. At the same time, maybe I would never feel their happiness to be have a few days respite from battle. They were relieved with joy: to go shopping in an Arab country that had a mall rivalling Tyson's Galleria II, cruise in a dhow in the Gulf, and jump sand dunes in SUV's without being shot at and then have Applebee's for dinner. In a few days they will return to the front lines, the days they slept here without the sounds of mortars and gunfire above them and swam in a clean freshwater pool a hopeful memory; while I fly back to DC, return to my loft condo and have dinner at a trendy restaurant downtown. At the same time I may never know what they actually feel.

Crag log

Last Wednesday (not this past one but before that) I went climbing at PATC's Carderock Wednesday. Became more smooth on Sterling Crack. Tuesday morning before I left for my trip I hit Great Falls and finally finished my nemesis: Romeo's Ladder, woohoo! Also attempted a 5.10 crack to the left of it but 2 feet from the anchors figured out why it was a 5.10. Right now I really miss climbing, there's not a bouldering site or crag to be found in this barren wasteland. I made some pretty good progress on those days and can't wait to tackle Splinters again, also Cornice. Hopefully my arms won't have deteriorated too much.

lebanese doha

During the day, with no air pollution to refract the light, the sun beats down in the desert. It's about a 100 degrees and its good weather. However it's fairly humid and there's always a breeze. At night it cools to 80 with the same wonderful breeze. The sand gets everywhere. Where am I? Qatar, on one of the most inhospitable land masses on earth. Why do people live here?

Much to my surprise, Doha is quite lovely. We went to a Lebanese restaurant, in the form of a sprawling castle on the Corniche (a concrete upscale boardwalk along Doha's shore). There we enjoyed fantastic mezzes, followed a fantastic dish of grilled fish. Afterwards I smoked possibly the finest smoothest sweetest hashisha. The buzz was instantaneous.

I took some pictures. On photgraphy etiquette: for the most part we're not supposed to point our cameras at locals without asking permission. They could take offense. One being in a Wahhabi Arab country: I was surprised that not only did I see Arabs in their traditional dress, but I saw Arabs in contemporary dress. And not as conservative on the women as you might think. I wore jeans, a blazer, and sandals, whereas I saw women in knee high skirts and sleeveless tops. The locals seemed very friendly and pleasant. Most know some sort of English, and the place we went to wasn't entirely frequented by Westerners but by Arabs as well. People didn't stare or give us unpleasant looks. All in all, a very enjoyable and lovely evening.

Zieg honey

Thursday morning, the day of our checkout from the Frankfurt Airport Sheraton and an impending evening (unknown to us at that time a horrid flight) to the desert (where I am now), I fulfilled my body's request for some rejuvenation at the hotel gym. After enjoying a delicious breakfast buffet of yogurt and muesli (among other things like meats and fruit), myself and one other intrepid friend took the train into downtown Frankfurt. We came out on Zieg street where I immediately hit the shops: H&M and Zara to be exact. Why is the H&M in Europe so much better than the ones in the States?

Some type of fall festival was going on downtown as the entire street was filled with vendors: winemakers, country honey, sausages, apfelwein (regional specialty drink), wood carvers, soap makers, etc. Four years ago when I first came to Germany, I ate my host out of her creamed German honey, in three days. I have craved that honey, and I found it on the streets of Frankfurt and now there is some in my suitcase, which will hopefully not break on my flight home. I wandered around and took pix of the crowd (which will be coming soon when I get home). After tiring my feet we returned to the hotel, picked up our bags and then took a ride on possibly the worst airline I've ever ridden in my life.

bloglite frankfurt

So very sparse on the blogging. I take back what I said about commentables in an earlier post. Yes, I want you to comment. Even if you are cloak-and-daggering! ;)

It's been sparse because I've had scarce internet access. Tuesday night I flew out of Dulles and landed in Frankfurt Wednesday morning. I admit I wasn't super excited about Frankfurt, or Germany for that matter. From what I read in the guide books, Frankfurt was the 'headquarters of the EU currency,' the financial capital of Germany, 'modern,' and billed itself as Mainhatten (a play off Manhattan--a definite sign of banality when a European city is nicknamed after a much livelier and character-driven AMERICAN city). Mostly destroyed in WWII, everything rebuilt is modern, and anything that looks like it maybe 'Germanic' is fake and a replica.

The first day I arrived I forgoed the promised jog to my body to work out jet lag, plopped down on the Sheraton Frankfurt Airport's plumped feather bed and napped until I realized I would miss my train to Idar-Oberstein. Idar is a tiny hamlet to the west of Frankfurt, off the Main River and closer to the Rhine. On the way from Frankfurt the train cut through large hills that had been blasted away and terraced for optimum grape-growing. Apparently the region is famous for wine. Meeting an old college buddy in Idar, we sat down for dinner at one of Germany's few family friendly restaurants, as we had a two year toddler with us.

One thing I love about Germany is it seems every major hill has a castle or fort built on top, sometimes overlooking a tiny town. It makes me believe in Beowolf (hah, am I even on the right continent? someone correct me). Dinner was some type of steak, a bit chewy, marinated and cooked over a pit fire with a side of crisped homestyle roasted pototos. Yum.

And then I somehow figured out how to switch trains in the middle of the night to arrive back at the airport. Pics will come once I've returned home and downloaded them to my laptop.