Accident Report: 11/9 Sister's Superior Tower Jah Man Grade II 5.10

Here's my chance to live my words. I put this on the new forum created by the decades old Potomac Mountain Club. I e-mailed it to friends who weren't members of the Potomac Mountain Club. Will I submit this to the Accidents in North American Mountaineering? Haven't decided. I was encouraged by a climbing friend to post it on Facebook - which has seemed to kill the blog - but this is too long for Facebook.

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I hurt my left foot and got whiplash symptoms in my neck and shoulders. After driving the 4wd .5 miles to a pull out in the wash and a 1 hour and 40 minute approach (we started at 7 am) we were at the base of the popular desert tower climb Jah Man (pronounced Yah Man), five pitches, Grade II, 5.10c. I started the first pitch (5.9/5.8+) and found the climbing surprisingly greasy and not well protected (it was a 50' pitch or shorter and I placed one offset nut, (2) 3, and (1) 4 camalots. My right hand even slipped off the hand traverse but thankfully my left foot and left hand were able to keep me from falling off. I finished at a block slung by tat on a ledge and brought Erin C. up. Pitch two was the 5.8+ chimney pitch. The crux was getting into the chimney by laybacking a triangle shaped off-width block. After realizing I was still too big to squeeze through the block into the chimney, I placed a red Metolius master cam about seven feet up from the belay ledge just right of the flake in a crack and then a small blue Alien cam a foot above it. Heel hooking to get myself on top of the sloping slippery flake I grasped at the inside of the chimney trying to find a way to transition into it. In the middle I tucked my feet under my hips almost straddling the flake. I stood up on the flake. There was no pro at my head height and at this point the alien was at my feet. My vision started started to focus on a smaller and smaller span of rock in front of me while my mind screamed, 'no fall zone! jump into the chimney!' Grasping at a small sloper on the right side of the chimney I attempted to make the move but the next thing I know, I'm riding the triangle flake down, desperately squeezing the flake with my legs on both sides to slow down the fall before I toppled backwards off it as it sharply ended. I probably hit another section of the flake and almost came down on Erin. Her belay stopped me as the alien held my hips less than a foot off the ledge. If climbing has slapstick, this was a hilariously awkward and strange fall. Rattled and feeling urgency as a group of seven French climbers started up the first pitch behind us, Erin took over the lead. After it was my turn to climb I told Erin, "I think my left foot is f*ed up," She asked if I wanted to bail, I told her I would continue climbing and see how I felt. The climbing felt fine, maybe it was adrenaline, endorphins or both but my foot felt okay, not 100% but not pained by climbing. Erin finished the rest of the pitches of Jah Man (5.8+, 5.10c, 5.10, 5.10). I followed. We finished with lunch on the ledge with the French climbers who's party we ended up in the middle of, rapped on their ropes and hiked back the less than 2 miles to the car, did a wine tasting and ended up back at the condo at 4:15 pm, to watch the sunset from the windows. We might have to do the climb again as neither of us had a chance to slap each other with high-fives between pitches exclaiming, "Jah Man!"

Post Doctor's Visit Analysis: I have a sprain in my left foot and a cyst in the joint cartilage. I'm scheduled for an MRI as an x-ray doesn't show fractures in the smaller bones.  I can walk but at 80% of the pace I do now, boots are uncomfortable, and I have constant but diminishing pain. I can climb top rope, but I can't run or jog (or dance in heels - found that out by Saturday morning!). Hiking seems to be okay. I was also tested for a concussion. I don't remember hitting my head or back or neck and I was wearing a helmet, but 28 hours after the incident, I had a headache at the base of my skull and tight shoulders and neck. Given my lack of focus the following day, the doctors believe I had some sort of mild or less severe concussion. I'm still processing the fall, but I think a few factors played into it 1) having my confidence shook by my near fall on the first pitch 2) being overconfident because the last two days we had been on harder graded climbs at Indian Creek 3) fatigue from climbing harder routes the previous two days 4) instead of being focused on where I was with my feet on the slippery rock, fixated on getting into the chimney (a lapse of attention at the moment). At this point the only thing I can think of doing differently is being more aware of where I was standing and making sure I was comfortable on my feet and taking a good look around. When I TR'd the pitch, it was smooth and not nearly as difficult as I had made it out to be on lead (easier said on top rope as always!). Perhaps taking a rest day before climbing the route after two hard days of climbing might have been wiser too.

I started this blog as a diversion. And now I'm totally not needing the diversion of this blog. My life almost has nothing to do with international affairs anymore, and when it does, a scant tangent to it. I have to almost re-title my handle, bureauquette, no more.

I've left that career behind, that tearfully attained master's degree in a discipline I don't ever practice. What changed? I work less. My job is to help people, well businesses, well the government. I had to look inside myself, because I had to take stock of the six years of emotional neglect. Spiritual neglect ... and this blog was a way to see how much I stayed in tune with that.

I've started to work less hours. I'm still salaried but I took a 25% pay cut to get hopefully 25% more time back in the rat race that's is living and working in the D.C. metro area. My closest are friends are the ones I can discuss consciousness practice with, I shell out oodles of money for clinics that help me realize physical intelligence. For a while I neglected this blog, because I thought it would just focus too much into my hobby of climbing. Hardly a hobby it is anymore, but rather a lifestyle. Every prospective friends, whether its someone I meet in a casual account, and friends I had from before, I explain, I climb, or ski, practically every weekend.

Dying time

Climbing deaths - happen.  There are articles and even books written about it.  Healing and closure after the death of a close friend is a personal thing, it is also very much within the public sphere when it happens on public lands.  The results are important to the community to reinforce,  learn and remind us what we do for the sake of fun and spending time with like-minded friends, also reminds us how mortal we are.  If you receive the annual Accidents in Mountaineering you know this.  To tell people not to discuss the death of a fellow climber seems tantamount to enforce the 'forgetting' of the event and telling people to accept only certain versions of the truth from particular people is in disservice of the deceased.  Swallow your pride, death will get the better of us in time.  Death is hard, I've seen it happen to two of my close climbing friends - frankly, the discussion post-death helped me heal and understand how and why they died, and what for.  If I died doing something I was passionate about, I would hope those I shared a rope with and a love of the mountains learn something - not enforce a  'silence' period.  There is little respect in such action because it is rooted in protecting what we fear to know about ourselves and our community.  What do I know?  I'm alive, but I would think better of imposing my will on others, and just because someone 'knew' someone does not accord them any extra special powers to silence others.  For those of you who are healing, death hurts the living most.  I'm sorry you are in pain, the suffering also reminds us we are alive, and mortal.

2012 Notes from the Films

So I'm back with my annual Filmfest DC review.  I saw eleven this year and the best part is I achieved it all seeing it with friends and family, old and new and young ;). 

The Sandman - I thought this was one of the best films, precluding that I didn't see 5 Broken Cameras or Monsieur Lazahar which also got top faves from the audience.  I'm into nihilistic dream-sequence dramas with an actual story line and good acting while taking place in an absurd fantastical almost real setting, kind of like one of my faves, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. 

Abu, Son of Adam - I like this film because it kind of reminds me of my pops.  Except I didn't think it was good enough to warrant a Academy Awards submission.

Facing Mirrors - Five star movie, although the post-text will have you believe the Iranian government is progressive because it allows sex change surgery and will provide loans for the operation.  The story is heart-rending, with some of the finest character acting I've seen anywhere.

Terraferma - Good movie if it hadn't been shown in conjunction with Facing Mirrors or The Sandman.  It was a subtle drama and emotional at once.

Goodbye - This movie trapped you in the theater with thoughts of escape.  It's the point of the whole story (or lack thereof), the purpose of the film is better described through the background of its actual director, his first since being released from Iranian prison.

Crazy Wisdom - really nice glowing documentary on Tibetan lama Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, who brought Eastern Buddhism to the West.

Blood in the Mobile - a Micheal Moore-esque documentary.  Heart-rending video footage shows enough damning evidence as does a corporation's inability to eloquently rebuff questions surrounding its supply chain.  Not as relevant once one does some homework though. 

War of the Arrows - epic historical war drama from the Republic of Korea.  Lots of China bashing and cheering for the good guys.  Feel good film, worth seeing on the silver screen.

Almanya - Welcome to Germany - one of my favorites, tells the story of Turkish immigrants to Germany, its plot of East colliding with West with hilarious results is applicable to immigrants' stories in any Western country.  I laughed, I cried, I'm glad I spent time to watch this movie. 

Cousinhood - crowd favorite, I thought it was in the realm of 'Last Kiss' and 'The Hangover' (read Dude flick).  Certainly shows men's vulnerabilities but the portrayal of women, particularly the supporting actress who plays Martina was so one-sided.  The women's character were essentially caricatures: the Mother, lover, angel Martina, the crazy controlling banshee Tona, and bitchy whore daughter (forget her name), insecure indecisive ex-fiancee.  I had too much trouble suspending my disbelief on the lack of character development in the women to really enjoy the movie.  There's a reason why this director is still single (maybe unrealistic expectations of women?) but I will give him a pass for dealing with the peculiarities of producing reasonable length films. 

The Policeman - a film for those more familiar with traveling in Israel and perhaps the peculiarities of policing and defending that nation.  I liked it because it reminded me of Israel: Eastern Europeans in the Mediterranean.  It might be somewhat prophetic as well.

Re-capping 2010

This was an old post that when I went to publish, blogger crapped out on me:

Besides turning 30 what did I do was notable? Somethings I've posted about already, and I'm thinking about my 'never' list but I'm too lazy to find it and scan it ... maybe an idea for something else I can look up.

January - I remember I was living in Ballston fooling myself into thinking I could continue working for DoD. I probably went on some ice climbing trips. I also mourned the loss of my colleague in Afghanistan. I learned my aunt had breast cancer.

February - Probably more ice climbing trips. Took my first avalanche awareness course.

March - Took my second avalanche course and skied in Colorado for the first time. Crested Butte. Discovered powder. Became insanely jealous of my avalanche comrades who were outfitted in skis while I tromped clumsily around Rocky Mountain National Park in my snowshoes. Snuck in a rockclimbing trip to the Gunks.

April - Moved back to D.C. after realizing I was never going to adapt to living in Arlington. Started appreciating spring time in the city, trained for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer by walking everywhere, 5 to 10 miles a day. Attended DC filmfest fiendishly.

May - Walked a marathon length one day, and a half marathon length the second day. Hardest thing I have ever done. My feet felt like raw pulverized ground meat for a week. Continued training. Went on a date with the first climber to become my boyfriend in six years.



June - Left for Tanzania. Wowed by wildlife in the Serengeti and Ngorongoro crater. Got followed around by a toad in our camp, witnessed wild cheetahs nearby and giraffes in the parking lot. Scared off by lions in the ladies room. Summited Mt. Kilimanjaro, my first and probably only Seven Summit.

July - Said goodbye to a dear friend after his quick spirited and calm acceptance with a terminal illness. Climbed my first of the 50 Classic Climbs of North America - the Petit Grepon on my return visit to Rocky Mountain National Park. Notably this was date # 6 with my ex-boyfriend to be and my first successful alpine route. Another post warrants on date # 6. I also quit my cushy federal job, missed my flight back to DC and instead visited friends in Seattle and San Diego for another 10 days.

August - I returned just in time from my adventures out west to go on date #10 to Chamonix, France. There I didn't climb anything of consequence but had a great time with friends, ate yummy food, dealt with my nagging independence in the face of a looming relationship, and soaked in beautiful views of the French Alps.

September - More home bound than planned due to an recurring illness. Got to be around one of my best friends and witness her become a mother to two children. Eventually got back to San Diego to climb. Climbed my second alpine route in Teton National Park, although not a 50 classic, I thought a better climb than the Petit Grepon.

October- My favorite climbing season, discovered the Red River Gorge in Kentucky, went to an old favorite, the New River Gorge in West Virginia. Took off for a cross-country road-trip.

November - Drove to Joshua Tree, CA and back. On the way saw an old friend and made new ones. Definitely pushed my climbing further than I ever have before. Returned in time for the holidays.

December - Christmas Day ice climbing, worked outdoor recreation equipment and clothing retail, got my first big scare on a lead climb in the Dacks. The same one I got a bloody nose on earlier in the year in January. Realized I was soloing a 350' slush cone of a waterfall ice climb and experienced near anchor failure (would've been catastrophic had it actually happened).
Worked New Year's Eve after driving back from that trip during the night before, and opened my eyes just enough to see fireworks over Baltimore harbor.

film fest continued

I'll continue with my review of films:

West is West

This is the sequel to East is East, which was made I think over 10 years ago. The first film introduces us to the Khans, a half Pakistani, half British working class family that is struggling with their hybrid children in 1970's England. It's supposed to be funny but East is East gets pretty serious at the end. West is West takes places after most of the children have grown up but one, who is tormented in school for his Pakistani heritage. So his father (same actor from the first film) decides to take him back to his paternal homeland to show him some pride in his ancestral roots. And of course, it couldn't be a film about folks from the subcontinent without a wedding a scene.

Himalaya: A Path to the Sky

Ever wonder what it's like to start off being a monk in a Tibetan Buddhist monastery? Making meals, keeping warm in the above-alpine environment? This is a documentary for you. Pretty fascinating exposure to a way of life rarely glimpsed with amazing footage of the legendary mountain range.

Moner Manush or The Qwest

Epic on the life of a Bengali mystic poet. Beautiful music and scenery, many of which were shot in the country my family comes from. The original Bengali title refers to the Soul Man ... and the film is about Lalan's search for the soul man, peace, inner divinity, whatever it is you call it, that which is beyond legality, society, religion, and conflict.

The Traveler

Egyptian flick that was really weird. This is one that the film fest oversold ... unless you like surreal existentialist dramas. It follows a telegraph operator who rapes a woman after lying to her about his identity and is contacted by the following generations resulting from that event. He makes choices and seems to be tied to each generation's fatality, without knowing why. Apparently this film takes place over three days in the main character's life, each which signify a pivotal point in Arab history. It's deeply symbolic I suppose but you might have to do some research on what happened in the Arab world each of those days to get past the seemingly senseless drama.

2011 DC Film Fest!

Yup, I have continued my favorite annual obsession and here's a review:

Bardsongs

It's a film in three parts. The reason to see it is the cinematography, the scenes of Jodhpur in Rajasthan, city of Djenne in Mali, and the Ladakh region of India. It entwines music created for the film with the storylines that seem documentary-esque in nature. I really don't understand why the filmmaker quotes Wuthering Heights, a gothic romance, at the beginning of this film.

Little Rose

It's a dark piece about the Polish paranoia of Jewish influence in the late 1970's. The main actress was a pleasure to watch for her acting and probably features easily one of the creepiest boyfriends in cinema arts theater.

3

This was probably my favorite so far of the festival from the German director who brought us Run Lola Run. Honestly, I barely remember his previous film, but I thought it was a well directed and cleverly acted piece about human romantic relationships.

The Man from Nowhere

It's a violent Korean flick but not as violent as the Chaser thankfully. It didn't contain the same element of suspense either but it was enjoyable.

Mozart's Sister

I really like this film despite its historical embellishment about Nannerl's relationship with the Dauphin. The pleasure of watching this film was actually listening to its score.

In Return

And making what I have now a reality. I'm back in D.C. after some time. To be honest, I flit in and out. I am fortunate to have a patient and supportive mother who expresses minimally to me the frustration she must feel when I arrive, those bags explode, and then in a few hours to a few days, I'm gone again, leaving my room in a bigger disarray then when I arrived. It's been a bit of a trial, I thought I found love, and then I lost love. I was having fun and then the sense that I needed more to be fulfilled began to emanate in my thoughts. I wasn't sure if it's the effect of the dwindling savings account or something innate to my being. So I'm dealing with the eventual consequences of my actions. I have no regrets about the two great road trips I took, the many flights to visit to friends in other parts of the country, the people I shared my life with, and the enormous amount of money I spent on acquiring ski lift tickets and a pair of alpine touring skis. I made many new friends, I strengthened bonds with old friends, and perhaps even a little, I connected with people I hadn't seen in a long time. The next few hours, days, weeks, will play into a decision on whether I can become independent by working again and still hang on to that. In some ways I'm beginning to even wonder if it is possible given my choice of education and work experience. So we'll see.

Only Because it's April 2011

This weekend hails the start of my favorite festival in Washington D.C. (see title link). In anticipation, I'm going to include brief reviews for films I did not post that I saw in the 2010 festival.

25 Carats
It's a first effort from the director, kind of dark shadowy keep guessing about the shady characters kind of movie. Not my favorite.

Between the Sheets
Possibly one of the worst films I have ever seen at the festival. Think three hours of soap opera style acting, scripting, and design.

Elvis's Last Song
Cute film on your well documented coming of age theme. Maybe something to put on the Netflix queue or watch on vimeo if you click on the link.

Heliopolis
Good film, not your typical Egyptian fare. More of an arty character piece with lots of tension. I won't spoil anything.

I Am Love
The big budget film of the festival, polished piece starring a British actress. I'm glad I saw it but given it opened a week after the festival closed not sure it was necessary for them to include this film in the line-up.

No One Knows About Persian Cats
One of the best films of that year's festivals and epitomizes why I love DC filmfest. With the director commentary in person afterwards, the show was priceless.

The White Stripes Under the Great White Northern Lights
I knew very little about this band until I saw this film. Incredible and was able to connect with this band.

Women Without Men
I saw this film after the festival when it showed at the Shirlington Cinema. An arty esoteric piece, kind of sends one's brain for a spin.

onto more important things

I'm catching up on current events. A few days ago I learned my cousin was forced out of her short-term rental (a place away from her husband so she wouldn't have to spend two hours commuting each way to work) because her roommate caught her praying. She is a British-accented, non-hijab wearing, modern career woman with degrees in accounting. I, on the other hand, only reveal my religious heritage only after direct scrutiny, and the fact my last name gives it all away. Through my years working within the U.S. military and government agencies, I have often found I'm the minority, and my colleagues are hyper-sensitive to anyone coming close to inferring I have terrorist ties, with the exception of my Irish Army polygrapher. I don't want to make anyone tip-toe around what is a politically charged issue that is intrinsically linked to my namesake and of course, my identity. I've found a pretty thoughtful editorial (the link is in the title).

It invokes many images for me. One is of a regional Taekwondo tournament I participated in where I got my butt thoroughly beaten by a hijab-wearing black belt, coached by an Egyptian American. I have never met a more ferocious, powerful and fast woman in the competition ring in my life. I'm also thinking about the article I read in JO magazine, Jordan's version of The Washingtonian, about how 85% of Jordanian women believe their husbands have a right to physical beat their wives. I'm also taken back to a Facebook wall argument I had with a friend of a friend about health care, when he callously turned it into a debate about my personal background based on what he thought he knew about the origins of my name.

So what is the point of all this? I'm glad I'm not alone in having to defend something that is part of millions of peoples' identity, and two, I'm glad to have known such a wide diversity of experiences, which only three of which I've illustrated here out of a multitude; to show that it is exactly about that, diversity.

sunny sunny

Tonight, I'm in San Diego as I have been for the past two nights. I've been hanging out with D.C. expats. I call them expats because well, California really does seem like a world away from D.C. and its drive and ambition to change the planet and the universe. We cooked a monster Bengali meal last night, sauteed kale, brown basmati rice, chicken and butternut squash curry, and a tangy tomato stew. We had pretty ambitious plans to hike and climb out in the desert, but the heat wave destroyed our plans. While my lady-friend had just completed a 50K in three digit heat at altitude and was recovering, I pretended to recover from my week+ in D.C. The feeling that I needed to buy a bar of ice cream at every convenience store I passed and wolf it down in my car parked in a garage. Before I left, I got the good 'ole clean bill of health. I was amazed. And terribly relieved. I could finally travel and not cancel another flight out West. So my ultra-running friend and I, defeated by heat, had nice beach walks, pool time and the only real athletic thing we tried to do was tread water. She decided we are really bad at motivating at each other and like me is jobless. Today at REI I saw Yahtzee ... I suggested we buy it, stay home, and play it all day. She smiled at me ... "we're going to have to make up a really good story to explain to people." It's occurred to me a few times that not having the stress and pressure of a job, or school, makes me a pretty unmotivated climber. I'm not stressed at all ... thus I don't feel the need to torture myself in a crossfit work out, pound asphalt and sweat and breath heavy, and scare myself silly on a rock climb ... all to replace the stress of work or school. Interesting. I'm sure I'll be motivated tomorrow when we look up at the beautiful granite faces in Tahquitz/Suicide Rocks, in between Los Angeles and Palm Springs and we find ourselves on the sharp ends of the rope.

and a while

Over a year since I've posted. So far 2010 has been a doozy. I did a lot of things that surprised me and the people who thought they knew me. I had two friends dear to me die young. I quit my job and don't feel an ounce of ambition in the career-sense, just in the how-much-travel-can-I-pack-in for cheap sense. I'm dealing with interesting medical woes as a non-working person, without subsidized health insurance. In about seven months, my savings will run out and I will fall below the poverty line. A lot of this seems super negative, and I don't want this to be read wrong, but there are many things I learned and am continuing to learn this year.

First off, I learned there are no guarantees in life. I think everyone understands that, but very few actually face what it means. When an attack in Afghanistan took out a colleague of mine the day before New Year's Eve and then I lost a friend at age 31 to liver cancer in July, it occurred to me I may actually never have the chance to enjoy that pension and 401K I was diligently working and saving for. In many ways, my work stopped making sense to me, my career. It didn't seem very important to me. What seemed important was being with the people I care about, spending time doing what I love, and being present. Its strange to think this would hit me now, especially after working in countries the past three years on and off where the threat of an imminent attack could easily level the ground I was standing on with me on it. So after running my mouth about how I would quit my job and halt my career, I did. Officially, I haven't been to work since June 5th. July 17th, my resignation became effective.

Second, I learned I gave up some independence for some ... independence. I was no longer on someone's clock and earning money which I wantonly spent on outdoor gear and schemed for my next 2+ consecutive days off to cut loose in weekend warrior fashion. Sure I gained freedoms, but I also had to become more watchful of my spending. I'm still struggling with that. Also, I became dependent on the good will of others when I found myself 'freeloading,' that is crashing in someone's guest room, sofa, etc and eating their food. I certainly found that although I was not working for a salary, I was working to be social and nice. But not that it's been unpleasant, it's actually way more enjoyable than sitting in the office trying not to think of how nice it was outside and wishing I were not in front of a computer. It's given me the lessons on being present and being with people I care about.

I should definitely post the adventures I've had, but between updating Picasa web albums, Facebook, and e-mail/calls to set up the next adventure, I can't promise anything. I'm surprised that blogger has even let my blog sit for this long!

fiend about film

I'm contemplating going to this year's Banff Film Fest. Only because I can't wait until the legendary homage to the year's best films about mountain culture comes to D.C.'s National Geographic in the late winter/early Spring of NEXT year. But I realize I've been extremely negligent about reviewing films I saw at this year's DC International filmfest. You'll have to pardon me as most of the time I was living out of the trunk of my car and found blogging through a blackberry is a real pain.

Ashes of American Flags: Wilco Live
What a great band and what a great documentary on them! The premise is the D.C.-based director felt bad about the last documentary he produced on Wilco, where Jeff Tweedy appeared to be ... well an asshole. When a Q&A was held after the screening, the audience couldn't satiate their thirst for answers on working with the band. Turns out Wilco really is that good live, and very little sound mixing had to be done for the scenes. Additionally the directors provided some great footage of some historic American music venues, sandwiched between panoramas from the bus as they drove into towns, cities, and through the country-side.

The Blind Sunflowers
Really amazing film. I still feel guilt for leaving the film before the Q&A was finished with the Spanish-speaking director, but alas, it was a school night. Not at all a peppy film like the title might make you think, (focus on the Blind). It centers around a family, internally resistant to the Franco regime, but must contend with the outside world while keeping appearances, knowing some of their loved ones are in a struggle to leave.

The Chaser
The most disturbing film I've seen this year. It's not that you don't know who the killer is, but it's just wondering if the so-called 'good' guys will ever catch up. Graphic displays of gory death, I shudder to even think about it. I'm curious to see how the Korean film industry will go global after this one.

Ciao Bella
Cute, really cute and funny. Flick about horny teenagers but with an international twist. Son of a dentist Persian teen and a Swedish gal heart-broken after a summer fling.

Hasan and Marcos
My Arabic school friends and I got so used to screenings every Friday night at Middlebury, we couldn't resist watching this one. I think the audience took it more seriously than it needed to be taken. Yes it's funny, yes it's over the top. And someone correct me, but I thought the politics were a bit over the top too (as in the religious divide it tries to portray).

Ramchand Pakistani
I really enjoyed this film. Incredibly nuanced with balanced portrayals of the affected family members. It is a bit long as many films from the subcontinent tend to be.

Skin
What an incredible film and one of the more powerful I've seen on the subject of race. And how absurd it is, the notion that humans are different because of the color of their skin. Because it's based on a true story, it resonates more to how brutal members of families can be to one another, and much more humankind.

mood on write

I write based on my mood. I also write based on what my fellow bloggers are writing. Travel, adventure, climbing etc. A few posts ago I alluded to being in Jordan like being in prison. But a few weeks ago I found the keys to the garden. Literally. I put the keys on a chain that opened the living room security bar doors, to the very not-desert like lushness of a backyard I rarely use yet the gardener every day dutifully waters and trims once a week. It has a sprucy evergreen in the center, with a few miniature pines that look like they came from Tuscany, and a few small red blossoms trimmed along a serpentine edge of more ever green low bushes. It is filled with rare and uncharacteristic green grass. I found the small key that unlocks the suggestion of a gate between the garden and the street. As I write now, I hear the call to evening prayer, it echoes through the city, haunting, sometimes rude when it occurs at 4 AM.

In the past week, I discovered the Amman climbing scene. A friend from language school last summer introduced me over e-mail to another American,

"you two are nice intelligent women who both told me you brought two suitcases to the Middle East, one filled with climbing equipment."

We've already spent three weekends together. It was this past week that we found one Jordanian, Hakim, going against the grain of his family and culture to cultivate climbing, seen by some Jordanians as an intrusive Western past-time. We praised the routes he opened in the hills up north, he showed us an amazing limestone blue streaked gorge in a small Christian village he started developing two years ago after interviewing locals. They first took him to a cement quarry. His biggest crux to developing routes is getting a battery-powered percussion drill and getting equipment for his burgeoning adventure tourism business.

My climbing partner and I were really excited about Hakim and Jordan's possibilities. One thing stood out about Hakim. He wanted to have Jordanians open routes in their own country. Even though he and other rockclimbing guides further south in Wadi Rum were mentored by European climbers like Tony Howard, and Wilfred, a French climber, it was important for him to name the routes in Arabic, and the first ascensionist to be of Arab origin. Similiarly, Mohammad Hammad in Wadi Rum, known as probably the most skillful climbing guide (and Hakim grudgingly admits too) in the preserve completed many first ascents in the scary soft red sandstone towers. He spoke to me of how the Bedouin mistrust the ropes and how there is resentment towards a French climber who was writing a guidebook and renamed many of the routes in French or English and claimed his own F.A., even though Mohammad and others had done those routes before.

A few weeks ago through the heat and thirst of Ramadan (the Muslim holy month of fasting) in the desert, Mohammad invited us to his house in the village, insisted on us drinking hot tea for strength and fortitude before our day of climbing began, and despite needing rest, drove us himself to the our climbing destination and several hours later sent his younger brother to pick us up. While he readied to bring food to a group of campers and fix a leaky water tank without having any food or water himself, Mohammad also took the time to drop us at a granite sport crag. In thanks, I gave him four Black Diamond Camalots, sizes 2-0.5. He told me that nothing he did prior were worth the Camalots. I disagree, last year in the winter he bailed my friend and I off a climb when we were one rope short of a rappel and then took me climbing for a full day and treated me to camp, Bedouin-style.

Jordan finally feels like it's giving me a way back to myself. And here I am leaving it in a matter of moments ...

almost out

An addendum to the previous post. First, I did experience a climber death in my own close knit community in Washington D.C. I had only climbed with him one day. As I know many climber's by his first name, it was not until I heard the details of his accident, that it was his New Zealand fiancee who was belaying him and witnessed his accident that I remembered. I read from afar the grief of my friends in our community and I too was saddened. And I understood what a terrible summer had passed. The morning I realized, I was also driving a group of friends later to Wadi Mujib, a slot canyon that fed into the Dead Sea. I was trying to remain jovial with the mood of the morning, but I had to blurt out how I felt and the car quieted. They weren't climbers, I don't think they understood it, and such a death to an outsider could only have a negative explanation. I thank them for their silence.

catching up from the other side

I've finally had a chance to sit down and surf the net. From social networking sites I learn how negligent I've been ... dog deaths and lots and lots of climber deaths. I'm heart stricken for one of my climbing heroes, Majka, who once driving back from an ice climbing clinic informally interviewed me on being a lady single climber as I unwittingly answered and she smiled and nodded her head knowingly ... as my responses proved her hypotheses.

She wrote on how deaths of climbers are getting closer to her and I thought yes. I also think about the social commentary one of the proprietors of Rock and Snow in New Paltz said as he introduced one of the oldest climbing documentary films on climbing The Nose (how wild, drinking water out of bleacher jugs, and using pitons and eating utensil ... those were some hard men). He claimed corporate America was taking away the sense of community, that it sought to replace the sense of community with happy hours and family picnics, and long hours at the office fueled by a guilty nagging sense one could not survive if one did not bill 80 hours a week. I partly believe him. Climbing has given me a sense of community back. I think about the friends I've made from Alaska to Texas to South Africa to Jordan. How far that community spans. But having a community also means more people closer to your heart. When we indulge in the ultimate litmus of life's tests on the rock or in the mountains, exuberant in the feeling of having everything move in synch... muscle sinew mind soul ..., it's just as memorable and fleeting as the deepest meditation or daydream. So when we've lost our friends ... its perhaps a reminder of how much richer we've made our lives by being close to them. And the loss of any partner in the passions of same soul of a community ... is probably in equal and measurable parts painful. Although I will caveat, I have not lost a friend who was a climbing partner but I have lost many classmates and former social acquaintances from boating to car accidents, to disease ... but by the time they passed away, we were no longer held by the same bonds of community, and I can't say I felt stricken with grief for them.

the other world

I've told everyone that I'm living in Jordan this year, because really when you are somewhere for eight months out of twelve, your condo is rented, and all your mail is being forwarded to your mom's, where else can you say you lived? I lived out of the trunk of my car, on a friend's couch, a work-paid for hotel room, a tent for two weeks, random assortment of vacation rentals, and random campsites. It's the most stable thing I've done this year, being in a foreign country. And I'm still forced to change my mindset. The only two places I can look-up the weather forecast on the internet is for Amman and Aqaba, or I have to wait for the newspapers to describe the 'hilly areas.' Instead conferring a Time Out website, I have to confer the Jordan Times. When people give directions, they don't list street names, they list traffic circles (1st through 8th, and a few named ones), and describe second rights, third lefts. Although in the last eighteen months smaller residential streets have names and in the last year, buildings have acquired numbers (no more fourth building on the right after the third intersection). A new observable sign that Jordan is joining the rest of the world is a push for recycling, glass and plastic. Internet connection here is not the most reliable and the government can monitor anything. Still on any road trip, you will be pulled over at a random checkpoint to have documents checked, easy enough to do as an American. Movie times are still published in the paper, sales in stores are anybody's guess, and the main way of shopping for any service is through 'word of mouth.'

glacier hygiene

So there I am, on a glacier for the next twelve days. There are a lot of little things that one has questions about but are afraid to ask. Things like, how often do you change your underwear? How do you change out of contact lenses? How do you keep everything from freezing? Well there are little things that made it comfortable for me. The sacred socks were essential. That is a dry pair of socks to wear at night after I had soaked through the pair I was wearing all day. I was even more decadent and had a pair of sacred pants, that's right sacred pants. Pants that I would not wear for climbing or snowshoeing, but only for sleeping. Every night we went to sleep with EVERYTHING that needed to be dry and shouldn't freeze ... yes in the sleeping bag: sunblock, hand creme, toothpaste, contact lens solution, baby wipes, linings of the plastic boots, the wet socks I had already worn, the camera and batteries, the iPod (which should've been fully charged before I left town because the battery was empty the first night). For the next of skin of items, well I changed every three to four days, and the baby wipes were absolutely essential. Since water is precious and you can't actually wash your face or really want to get your hands wet, our instructors let us in on the teabag bath secret. Yeah, take the teabag you used for brewing the morning cup and wipe your face with it. Six straight days of slathering on SPF 70 sunblock six times a day gave me the complexion of a leprous zombie. It was suggested to me I take a 'teabag bath.' After doing a quick self portrait of myself with my digital and looking at the effect, I was aghast at my appearance. But otherwise, living on a glacier for 12 days was no sweat (except when we were shoveling and the ambient radiation of the sun reflecting off the glacier made it feel like we were in the Saharan desert while moving camp). What did I wish for? A way to call my mom (apparently old school cell phones can work once reaching certain peaks) and prescription glacier glasses for the days my eyes scream at me for putting in hard lenses.

enduring part II

Today is better. Mentally I'm accepting fate, physically my body is revolting. I got warm hugs and hellos and handshakes. I smiled at folks who barely changed or put on a few more pounds, or were paler than I last saw them, the healthier looking folks were beaming, and now I recall some of them were counting down days until they depart. Sometimes I wonder if I'm so mentally committed or even resigned to something that I distance from my true self. Like, when I started to heave the mostly liquid contents of my stomach, not even one kilometer from the airport terminal, and then once again when I left the shuttle on the circle to the apartment building that would be my home for the next four months. It was like my body was reacting to the indefiniteness of not being able to board a plane back home for another few months, and reacting again at the doorstep of my keep until then.

how to endure

One moment I was looking at the skyline of Manhattan, under the cover of evening clouds with sunbeams filtering here and there, thirteen hours later, I was pointing out to my seat mate the Dead Sea lapping at the West Bank. I already began putting count down numbers in my planner, this time I wasn't going to cross calendar years like before. My sister's birthday marks exactly the half way point. I miss my sister. Another four months, of me not being me. Of letting go of things I started towards in the last four, that felt like in their intensity zapped my time to a matter of four week, my first lead on ice, first leads on Gunks classics, my first time on a glacier, my first time camping for more than a week, my first time in Washington and Alaska, climbing in an ice park, my new car's first oil change, the first opera that I can clearly remember. I had things to look forward to here, longer dryer days, friends from before, possibly more outings. Possibly more interesting work. I knew my heart was divested before, but in the short time I had home, I managed to reinvest in those other ways to pass time, that have nothing to do with living in foreign country among expats, or sitting at a desk for over ten hours on most days. I sobbed in the apartment that I felt like I barely left. This time there were iron bars over all the windows. That sounds too dramatic, at least they had keys for opening their built in doors.