Welcome to too arab. Ahlan wa sahlan. If you are looking for some Aladdin fantasy, magic carpet, or other colonial imagery you have the wrong blog. Too arab is about everyday arab behavior that define Arabs’ arabness. With time, maybe this blog will be able to get to the bottom of what makes us too arab. Like using Arabic phrases without caring if you know Arabic or not. Other words that will fly out at you while speaking to an Arab in English include: inshalla (God willing), habibi (my love), la ya ammi (no, my uncle). These and many others will be explained in due time.

Let’s see how far we can take this thing.

A segunda edição especial da Banca de Quadrinhos no FIQ está no ar. No primeiro bloco, você confere um papo gravado com o quadrinhista americano Craig Thompson, autor da belíssima hq autobiográfica RETALHOS Editora Quadrinhos na Cia). A obra mostra a infância e juventude de Craig. Fanatismo religioso, descoberta e culpa, desejo e muito frio são elementos que compõe a história de amor entre Craig e Raina. Nessa entrevista, Craig fala desse álbum de formação, de seu futuro projeto HABIBI e ainda é apresentado pelo Rodrigo ao ótimo quadrinhista nacional Mário Cau, autor da HQ “PIECES” e grande admirador do trabalho deste artista americano

No segundo, mostramos quadrinhistas nacionais que estavam lançando hqs no FIQ. Tem a galera dos “Quadrinhos Dependentes” e a dupla responsável pelo gibi “DUO” (Felipe Cunha e Pablo Casado). Além de tudo isso, a Banca traz um monte de dicas e novidades dos quadrinhos… destaque para a imensa quantidade de boas HQs nacionais e pelo comentário sobre os enormes e ótimos Gênesis e Terra X.

hqtema: Demolidor, o homem sem medo (Panini Comics)

Bloco 1

Bloco 2

A Banca de Quadrinhos é exibida na BlueTV -TVA-18 em São Paulo e Rio, TVA-70-Curitiba e TVA-75-Florianópolis, toda quarta às 20h30 e reprise quinta às 11h e em tempo real em www.bluetv.com.br. Para ver todas as edições da Banca, é só acessar nosso site: www.programabancadequadrinhos.com. Nosso e-mail é bancadequadrinhos@gmail.com e o twitter é @bancaquadrinhos.

Escreva pra gente e diga o que está achando dessa cobertura do FIQ. Programa que vem tem mais coisas que rolaram no nosso segundo dia no evento… com entrevista com Guy Delisle, Srbek e mais! =)

  Para muchos de los que hemos tenido la suerte de viajar a Egipto, de  sumergirnos en la cultura del país y disfrutar de la compañía de su gente, encontrar en Barcelona un sitio como el Restaurante el Nilo es una delicia.

 En este restaurante se puede disfrutar de la cocina árabe y egipcia a un precio más que económico, y no solo eso, la comida está realmente buena, los platos son muy generosos y están cocinados según las costumbres del país. Además el local está decorado con mucho gusto al más puro estilo egipcio y es muy acogedor y familiar. Solo entrar en él te embriaga la mezcla de aromas a especies de la cocina tradicional que se prepara en este maravilloso local con el olor de la sheesha que alguien está fumando. La sensación que tienes de inmediato es de que vuelves a estar en Egipto.

 Algunos de los típicos platos que se pueden probar en este restaurante son: araiss de carne, araiss de queso, couscous, hummus y muchas más salsas que acompañadas con pan de pita están buenísimas, falafel, y de postre, como no los riquísimos pasteles árabes de frutos secos, hojaldre y miel. Hay que tener en cuenta que los árabes musulmanes no toman bebidas con alcohol, por lo que en este restaurante no se sirven estos tipos de bebidas.

Pero ya no es solo eso, si vais a cenar un viernes o un sábado, podréis además disfrutar de la actuación de una bailarina que hace las delicias de todos los presentes con sus insinuantes bailes de danza del vientre.

¿Que más se puede pedir? El servicio es genial, todo el personal es encantador, muy atentos, agradables y simpáticos. Yo misma, tengo el placer de conocer a Whaled, el propietario del restaurante, y la verdad es que es una delicia ir a cenar allí porque te hace sentir bien, como si estuvieses en casa.

con Whaled y mis habibis en el restaurante el Nilo

 Para los que no les gusta fumar la sheesha en la mesa, además este restaurante, tiene una sala muy acogedora para tomar el te y para poder fumar la sheesha tranquilamente, realmente un gozo!!

 Whaled el propietario que es egipcio, fue guía turístico en Egipto durante 18 años, actualmente monta periódicamente grupos reducidos para ir de viaje al país, y él hace de guía. Así que si os interesa, no dejéis de consultarle.

 Si os animáis a visitarlos, espero que disfrutéis tanto como yo!

Podéis encontrarlos en:

Dia adalah wanita yang aku cintai sejak aku benar-benar pergi darinya, dia sosok wanita yang sederhana awalnya. Aku hanya mencoba untuk mendekati dia dan akupun mendapatkannya walaupun akhirnya aku kembali mendapatkan kepahitan dari semua perjalanan ini.

Dalam cerita awal cinta yang aku ingin tuliskan dalam sebuah blog ini merupakan sebuah perjalanan yang begitu sangat menyakitkan baik bagi penulis maupun orang yang di cintainya.

Dalam awal cerita cinta sejak aku bisa mendapatkan pekerjaan sebagai seorang buruh. Cinta datang begitu saja dan memang itu terjadi, ida adalah nama seorang cewek yang coba dekati aku, dia merupakan cewek yang aku dulu aku harapkan untuk menjadi bagian dalam hidup aku, kemudian akupun sempat jalan lama dengan dirinya, walaupun dulu aku sempat menyatakan suka padanya tapi ternyata ia menolak dengan mentah-mentah, aku jadi sakit hati karena peristiwa itu.
Masalah itu sebenarnya datang ketika salah satu teman dari ida merupakn bagian dari kehidupan aku yang lalu dan mungkin dia belum sempat atau tidak bisa untuk melupakan aku secara keseluruhan.
Akibat dari itu aku jadi ditolak oleh yang namanya ida, maklum aku sempat jalan lama dengan yang namnya rohyati. Dia adalah cewek yang baik sebenarnya, dan sekarang ia sudah mepunyai suami yang tidak lain adalah anak dari kakaknya ayah saya, sehingga saya menjadi lebih dekat dan tidak ada lagi permusuhan walaupun mungkin dalah hati dia tidak bisa untuk melupakan semua kenangan yang aku alami dengan dia semasa kami masih bersama. Sebenarnya aku putuskan hubungan dengannya karena masalah orang tua saya yang tidak mau aktifitas belajar saya terganggu, meski berat tapi itu benar-benar terjadi dalam kehidupan kami berdua. Selama kami berpisah itu merupakan sebuah hal yang sangat berat karena kami berdua ibarat bumi dan langit yang saling berjauhan dan kalaupun kami bertemu tidak pernah saling sapa.
Dalam kehidupan rohyati ada sedikit masalah dengan kesehatan ibunya, ibunya yang sering sakit-sakitan membuat mereka beranggapan bahwa rumah mereka tidak cocok lagi untuk di tempati, sehingga mereka sekeluarga hendak pindah kesamping rumah yang namanya ida farida, belum sempat itu terjadi, orang tua atau ibu dari rohyati tersebut meninggal dunia, walaupun demikian rohyati tetap berada dirumah ida.

Singkat cerita……..

ketika itu aku coba deketi ida, dan akupun sempat mengucapkan kata cinta ma dia, tapi aku malah ditolak mentah-mentah, dari situ sering balas membalas surat yang isinya tentang suatu hal yang kontra antara kami berdua dengan ida, saat itu mantan saya yang namanya rohyati masih berada dirumah ida, mungkin itu merupakan sikap dia terhadap teman.
dalam isi surat saya dengan ida, ida menanyakan kenapa saya sampai hati untuk meninggalkan rohyati,
saya pun menjawab dengan jawaban sudah ada pada tulisan yang diatas, yaitu adanya tuntutan dari orang tua untuk fokus dalam belajar.
dalam penolakan ida terhadap saya, sebenarnya mungkin dia masih berhubungan dengan yang namanya rohmanuddin, dia merupakan saudara dari ayah saya juga. makanya ia menolak saya.

lewat cerita karena banyak waktu yang terlewati tanpa disadari……..

pada saat lebaran idul adha tiba-tiba ida mencoba untuk dekati aku dengan meminta nomer handphone saya, mngkin dari teman-teman saya akhirnya ia bisa mendapatkan nomer saya, singkatnya kami pun jalan bareng lumayan lama, dan ida pun mungkin udah melupakan tentang masa lalu kami berdua saat ia masih bersama rohyati dan kekasihnya yang bernama rohmanuddin.

dalam perjalanan cinta ini banyak sekali waktu yang aku lewati tanpa aku ada disampingnnya, ya mungkin karena kesibukan masing-masing, sehingga akhirnya aku memutuskan untuk pergi meninggalkan dia.

aku mohon maaf sebelumnya atas sikap aku yang tidak punya perasaan ini, ini bukan karena aku pengen balas dendam atas penolakan ida terhadap aku dulu, akan tetapi karena adanya wanita lain yang mencoba hiasi hati ini. dia adalah teman kuliah, dia sangat baik dan sederhana, walaupun akhirnya aku harus menelan pil pahit karena kami berdua tidak bisa hidup bersama.

akupun sempat berpaling ke yang lain tapi semua itu membuat aku jadi jatuh dalam kepedihan……. dan terus berlangsung lama……..

sanagat pedih……..

There are two entries in Wikipedia for Chaghcharan.

Chaghcharān (Persian: چغچران) is a town and district in central Afghanistan, as well as the capital of Ghor Province. It was formerly known as Ahangaran. The main inhabitants of Chaghcharan are Tajiks. It is located on the southern side of the Hari River, at an altitude of 2,280 meters above sea level. Approximately 15,000 people live in the town, making it the largest in the province. Chaghcharan is linked by a 380-kilometre-long highway with Herat to the west and about the same distance with Kabul to the east. Due to severe weather, the road is often closed during winter and even in summer it can take three full days to drive from Chagcharan to Kabul.

There is an airstrip, located north and west of the Hari River, one mile east/northeast of Chaghcharan. It is approximately 1800 metres in length, unpaved and capable of supporting small to medium sized aircraft.

In 2004, an independent FM radio station راديو صداي صلح or ‘Voice of Peace Radio’ opened in the town, the first independent media in this part of Afghanistan.

In June 2005, ISAF established a Lithuanian led Provincial Reconstruction Team in which Croatian, Danish, US, UkranianIcelandic troops also serve.

and

Chaghcharan District is one of the most populated districts in Ghor Province (115,000 in 2005). It is a mountainous district. The winter is severe and the roads are inaccessible because of the snow. The district center Chaghcharan is also the capital of the province. It is situated at 34°31′21″N 65°15′06″E / 34.5225°N 65.2517°E / 34.5225; 65.2517 at 2268 m elevation. The drought seriously affected the agriculture — the main source of income. There are a hospital and secondary schools in the district center, but because of the bad roads and severe weather they are hardly accessible to the rural population. Most of the population is Aimaq Hazara.

The first states that the people are mostly Tajik.  The second correctly states that the people of Chagcharan are mostly Aimaq.  The Aimaq are a Shi’a people closely related to the Hazara of Afghanistans Hazarajat.

I have been trying to get to Chaghcharan for the past 18 months to train the ANP Province Logistics Cadre.  Always before some problem arose.  Some unseen event would halt our progress and keep us away.  Either personnel on the ground were busy or out of the net or the winter snows would forestall progress in our travel.  We’d get bumped from the flight.  The flight would be cancelled due to weather or the aircraft would break down on the flight line or be re-routed.  Something would happen to keep us from getting there.  All plans came to naught.

Finally, Shoaib and I made it up there. I didn’t trust it until we actually landed.  Kept waiting for a sudden snow storm or the aircraft to run out of fuel and need to re-direct to Bagram or Kabul or worse, yet, Qandahar.  Who knows.  It’s happened before.

Heading out on leave, I was flown from Herat to Kabul.  Somehow, we were re-routed to Qandahar for a fuel stop.  We landed.  I looked out the window and told my fellow passengers that we were in Qandahar.  They thought I was crazy.  I recognized the place though because I’d been there a couple of times with another company.  I just started laughing as the flight crew stepped back to apologize for the landing and explained that neither Kabul or Herat had fuel readily available so we had to land in Qandahar to fuel up.  That pit stop turned a 1 hour 45 minute flight into a 5 hour ordeal.  Making matters worse was that we had been on the flight line for 10 hours prior to that flight because 3 other flights had been canceled that day.  We were happy as hell, though, when we landed in Kabul.  Not a complaint one.  We were just happy to finally make it and be in position to make it out for our respective R&Rs.

Back to Chaghcharan…

We board a Canadian ISAF flight to Chaghcharan from Herat.  Shoaib and I are both afraid to get our hopes up.  We both want to get  up into the mountains and finally do some work in Chor Province.  Shoaib had lived and worked there previously.  He was a Terp for the Lithuanian contingent.  He’d spent two years up there.  I am fascinated by the history of the region and would really like to experience as much of Afghanistan as possible before I finally give up this region and head home or wherever I end up after the Stan.

The Canandians are funny.  A little female NCO comes and briefs us and clears the military passengers weapons.  She gives us the safety brief and tells us that it’s a short flight so we should keep our IBA and Helmets on for the whole of the flight.  Then.  She leads us to the aircraft.  We climb aboard.

We roll down the tarmac and go wheels up.  Almost safe.

I don’t think they turned the heat on during the flight.  No matter.  I was prepared and bundled up in my fleece, Palestinian scarf and combat gloves.  I was warm.  I strap myself in.  Put my helmet on and prepare to catch a nap.

Shoaib sits on the web seating and tries to work the seat belt.  I watch him as he stares at it befuddled and then show him how to work the clasp.  All the while chuckling.  I had assumed that he’d been on a C130 before.

Apparently, he hadn’t.

45 minutes later, we land.

I’m excited as hell.

FINALLY!

We made it.

18 months in the making.  We’re in Chaghcharan.  I’ve read about the place and never thought I’d ever actually make it there.

We climb down the stairs to exit the aircraft and walk onto the dirt runway.

There are three little buildings.  One of which is an outhouse.  The other two are locked up and look to have been out of commission for quite a few years.

We’re greeted by the PRT welcome wagon.  A mix of US and Coalition soldiers from Lithuania, Denmark and Croatia.  They load our bags into some Toyota pick  up trucks and we jump in for the short ride to the FOB.

FOB Whiskey.  PRT Whiskey.  Depending on who is talking to you.  It’s a smallish FOB in the middle of the Hari Rud river basin.  It looks like they diverted the river with a canal the runs around the base and into town.  Even so, when the river swells in the wiinter rain months, the FOB floods and the plywood walking planks, I’m told, float as you walk on them.

We should be returning at that time.  So we may get to experience the floating planks.

We meet our military sponsors.  They show us to our Five Star Hotel.  A not well insulated tent with very inadequate heating that is as dusty as the roads out in town.  No matter.  I’m happy to be there.

It’s a decent FOB.  Pretty good chow.  Same day laundry service.  Decent gym.  Surrounded by Hescos, Concertina wire and 12 ft tall fencing.  As safe as any place in Afghanistan.  Chaghcharan is a pretty sleepy town.  Not too much activity of any sort.  If the Taliban are there, they’re sleeping and waiting to go somewhere else to cause trouble.  FOB Whiskey hasn’t had problems of any sort for almost a year.

We settle in.  Grab a bunk and are given a tour of the FOB.  Not much to see and won’t go into it here.  The highlight is the MWR house with pool tables–Russian and regular.  It also houses a small internet cafe with intermittent internet access.  Every Thursday, the Coalition forces have a beer night.  3 beer limit.  The US forces can not imbibe.  General Order #1 prohibits the consumption of alcohol in Afghanistan.  That lovely throwback to our puritan roots that makes absolutely no sense to me.

I sit down with my military sponsor and we put together a plan.  He briefs me on the Ghor Province Commander and Logistics Cadre.  Giving me a rundown of shortcomings and items that he’d like me to include in my instruciton.  Fuel and Accountability.  We talk about the usual problems that he has noted during his tour in Chaghcharan.  We plan out the next two weeks.

By that time, it’s getting late.  I head off to bed.

I can’t talk too much about our routes and training.  So I’ll leave that part out of here for now.

The rest of the week is left to coordinating travel.

As we travel around to various sites, we drive through the town of Chaghcharan to and from the Province HQ.  We visit the Generals house.  Hit up a few check points to see if they are supplied correctly or manned at all.  All seems well.

I always carry my camera on these trips.  Along the way, I snap random photos.

We drove up to a check point and supply point in the hills surrounding Chaghcharan.  On the way to one of them, we stop at an old Russian Fort.  It looks old.  Like Great Game old.  Late 1800s or so.  I grab my camera and take pictures of the surrounding area.  It’s beautiful country.  Greenery.  Desert.  Mountains.  Roads heading off towards places like Sagar and Pasaband.  A road that one can follow straight to Kabul.  The same road that took the author of  The Places In Between from Herat to Kabul.  Beautiful.  It’s like being on top of the world up there.  You can see for miles in every direction.

After we finish with our mission of training the ANP Logistics Cadre, it’s time for us to head back.  We manifest for a Sunday flight.  That flight gets canceled.  I get a little worried.  Next flight out is Tuesday.  So that Sunday, we head back to the PHQ to mentor the Province Logistics Commander.

Tuesday.  We make the flight.  Early flight.  We rise at OH DARK Thirty.  Pack our bags and equipment on a Toyota truck and head out to the airfield.  We are getting a ride on the mail flight.  It’s a Blackwater flight.  Old Russian Bird.  We wait out on the airstrip for about 45 minutes and she lands.  We climb aboard.

What a difference in conditions.  It’s a heated civilian bird.  Seats like a 747.  But big and cushy.  HEAT!  EXCELLENT HEAT!  Best of all….WINDOWS!

I can take photos along the way on the flight back to Herat.  I must have taken a couple of hundred photos.  Some are below.  I’m pretty syked about this.  I know somewhere in our flight path is Jam and it’s 1000 year old Minaret.  I would love to visit this site.  Get down there and touch it, smell it.  Get a feel for it.  It was built by the rulers of the Ghorid Empire sometime during their reign in the area.  1088 or so.  It’s one of those places that was forgotten and re-discovered.  It’s a 60m tall Minaret with the Mary Sura from the Qu’ran written around the whole of the body of the Minaret.  It’s in surprisingly good shape for a monument from antiquity.

We had a smooth flight and an even smoother landing.  Once we land, Shoaib and I jump off the aircraft.  Offload our bags and drag them to the pick up point.  I send Shoaib home and wait for my ride.  First order of business when I land is to call my boss and let him know that I’m “home.”

Then I call Habibi.  It’s been a little over a week since I’ve talked to  my diminutive sweetheart and I can’t wait to talk to her.  I call her up and…get her answering service.  She’s at work and has her phone turned off.  I laugh.  I guess I’ll have to wait to talk to Unny.

I sit down, pull out my book and wait for my ride back to homebase.  Two hours later, I’m in my hooch relaxing.

Later that night, I finally get through to Unny and my heart smiles to finally hear her voice.  54 more days and I’ll be with her in Bangkok.  We’ll have our party at Bedsupper Club on Soi 11.  Then we head out for our 9 day tour of Vietnam.  Backpacker style.

Very excited about this trip.

Below are the pictures that I took along the way in Chaghcharan.   Lots of pics.  I took approximately fifteen hundred photos up there.  I’ve included a little over a hundred of the best for this blog.

I hope you enjoy them.

Peace

Este magnífico y caluroso verano que ya nos abandona… mis chicas y yo nos fuimos de vacaciones a Egipto.

Que puedo decir de este magnífico país, de imponentes y impresionantes templos y pirámides, con el magnificente río Nilo, el inacabable desierto,  la maravillosa gente que hemos conocido allí, su cultura, su hospitalidad…

Las entradas de mis próximos días, se dedicarán a narrar este inolvidable viaje de 15 días, que mis amigas y yo tuvimos la suerte de vivir.

...only makes you stronger

I’ve been pretty stressed out lately, trying to prepare for interviews and a pending fashion shoot I’m working on this month, while getting used to being alone after my habibi and roommate for the past three months has left to go to Cambridge. When I was taking back T-shirts to Giordano, that I used for the Best Buys section this month, the manager said I could keep them as a gift. I was completely taken aback at his graciousness and the gesture seemed like the world was finally giving me some direct advice. Direction that I’ve desperately been seeking. Who said it was going to be easy, right?

You may not know this about me…

but I like rules.  Not necessarily rigid “that’s a write-up” sorts of rules, but knowing-how-to-do-things rules, and the kind of rules that form a structure within which there’s a lot of room to improvise are also good.

A while ago, I was talking to F about trail-a-bikes…

Those trailers that attach to an adult’s bike and allow kids to pedal along.   Like this one.  F was telling me that his daughter had been riding one since she was Habibi’s age–about 5 years.  He said kids Habibi’s age are fine on them, as long as they follow the rules.

“What are the rules?”  I asked.

The rules for trail-a-bikes, according to F:

1. Always wear a helmet.
2. Always keep both hands on the handlebars.
3. Always stay on the bike, unless a grown up says to get off.
4. Keep pedaling–we can go further and have more fun if we both pedal.
5. If you get tired, or need to stop for any reason, let the grown up know, and we can stop and take a rest.

So the other day, I was talking to K about these trail-a-bikes:

“According to my friend,” I said, “they are safe for kids Habibi’s age, as long as the kids follow the rules…”

“What are the rules?” she asked.

I told her the rules.

“Those are good rules,” she said.

“I can’t think of many activities that wouldn’t be improved by following these rules,” I said.

They are great rules:

1. Protect your head.
2. Hold on.
3. Commit, but know it’s okay to admit you’ve had enough.
4. Participate.
5. Communicate.

So, thanks, F, for giving me these rules, and thanks, K, for being the sort of person who allows me to realize things like the fact that these are really good rules.

Wow.  I am really lucky to know the people I know.

tip berlin-Autor Oliver Numrich verrät, was er am CSD-Wochenende in Berlin so treibt.

Freitag, 26. Juni

Seit auf jeder Ratgeberseite steht, dass Gutscheine juristisch gesehen mindestens ein Jahr gültig sein müssen, fehlt mir der nötige Termindruck, sie einzulösen. Vor vielen Jahren habe ich zum Geburtstag den Eintritt in das Liquidrom geschenkt bekommen, den Besuch aber stets vor mir her geschoben und dann war das Tempodrom plötzlich insolvent und der Wellnesstempel dicht. Jetzt gab es wieder einen Gutschein fürs Baden, sogar mit inkludiertem Willkommens-Prosecco anlässlich von CSD und Pride Week. Freitagabend lös ich ihn ein…!

Samstag, 27. Juni

Ich gehe lieber zum Transgenialen CSD, anstatt als Touristenplaisier auf dem Kudamm zu enden. Dieses Jahr beginnt die Demo in Friedrichshain – angeblich weil einer der Organisatoren dort wohnt. Ganz abgesehen von mehr Bequemlichkeit für Einzelne – ich finde es wirklich sinnvoll, auch mal in Kreuzbergs Appendix die Regenbogenfahne hoch zu halten. Am Ende der Demoroute steht sicherlich das Habibi in der Oranienstraße 30. Dessen Wirt soll kürzlich ein Schwulenpaar mit einer Eisenstange angegriffen haben und jetzt ist hier Mahnwache angesagt. Irgendwie habe ich das Gefühl, die Toleranz gegenüber Andersliebenden ist endgültig aufgebraucht – zumindest in einigen Ecken Berlins.

Um nach all der Aufregung wieder zu Kräften zu kommen, gehe ich ins „Pata Pata“ an der Kottbusser Brücke (Graefestraße 93). Als Spezialitäten des Exoten-Imbiss gelten Backkartoffeln mit frischem Minzjoghurt, Banana-Bread und Empanadas, das sind gefüllte südamerikanische Teigtaschen mit Koreander-Chili-Dip. Aber ich bevorzuge das hausgemachte Chili con Carne.

Erst fiel das Verfassungsgericht, dann der Senat: Nur fünf Monate währte die schöne rauchfreie Zeit in Berliner Kneipen. Auch das Konrad Töns, das ich gerade zur Lieblings-Trash-Bar erküren wollte, ist jetzt wieder verqualmt. Wo kann man noch gesellig sein, ohne verpestet zu werden? Ich werde mich wohl für das Golden Finish entschließen. Die schwule Bar von Marc und Marcel ist noch neu im Straßenbild des Wrangelkiez, die Wandmalerei nicht jedermanns Sache und auch hier wird geraucht, aber an einem milden Sommerabend man kann in netter Runde vor der Tür sitzen und den alltäglichen Radau in 36 miterleben.

Sonntag, 28. Juni

Das Schönste am Sonntag sind die ruhigen Stunden am Morgen, wenn ich mit einem großen Becher Kaffee neben mir im Bett ein Buch lese. Ich bete, dass die Kinder im Hinterhof nicht wieder so laut rumschreien. Gegen Mittag lasse ich mich vom Hyperlinkstrudel des Internets mitreißen, aber erst, nachdem ich mein Persönlichstes nach außen gekehrt und auf Facebook und Xing meine täglichen Eintragungen erledigt habe – ganz zu Schäubles Freude. Meine Hoffnung ist, dass die Datenschnüffler aus der schieren Menge kleinteiliger Info-Häppchen in all den Blogs, Foren und Communities nichts Verwertbares mehr filtern können und gleichsam daran ersticken. Außerdem schreibe ich Beiträge für mein Langeoog-Blog, in dem ich die braune Vergangenheit meiner ostfriesischen Heimatinsel aufarbeite.

Mein Ärger über die Zigarettenmafia verraucht nicht so schnell und so plane ich für den Nachmittag, die „Route 1“ des Reiseführers durch den Berliner Lobbyisten-Dschungel abzuwandern, der von der Initiative LobbyControl herausgegeben wurde. Startpunkt ist der Verband der Chemischen Industrie (Ziehkinder Helmut Kohl, Friedrich Merz u. a.) in der Neustädtischen Kirchstraße, Schlusspunkt der Reichstag. Auf dem Weg liegt auch der Deutsche Zigarettenverband, der wichtigste Interessenvertreter der Tabakindustrie. Vorsitzende: Eine ehemalige Grünen-Bundestagsabgeordnete. Wer wundert sich?

Am frühen Abend bleibe ich gleich in Mitte und hole mir eine schnelle Stärkung im DUDU am Rosenthaler Platz. Das Asia-Restaurant hat mir eine Freundin empfohlen, die dort manchmal aushilft und bezeugt, dass alles – auch hinter den Kulissen – total reinlich sei und gute Produkte verwendet würden, häufig sogar Bio-Sachen. Denn seit ich die Ekelliste des Bezirksamts Prenzlauer Berg online durchblättert habe, kann ich kein Restaurant mehr aufsuchen ohne mir katastrophalen hygienischen Umstände in der Küche auszumalen. Warum gibt es eine so eine effiziente Kontrolle nicht in ganz Berlin?! Abend Lange war es geplant, am Sonntagabend ist es endlich soweit: Mit einer großen Freundesclique besuche ich Mel Brooks „Producers“ im Admiralspalast. Weil das Privattheater so überaus knauserig ist mit Pressekarten, hat ein Freund, der sich damit brüstete Vergünstigen über seine Firma zu erhalten, die Karten bestellt: Sage und schreibe 65 Euro muss ich jetzt für die Karte berappen! Dieser Preis ist dem New Yorker Broadway ebenbürtig – hoffentlich ist es das Stück auch. Ich kenne beide Verfilmungen von 1968 und 2005 und habe große Angst davor, die Lieder auf Deutsch zu hören. Hoffentlich wird es gut.

Oliver Numrich ist Gelegenheitsautor des tip, Fachautor für PR und Fundraising sowie Geschäftsführer der blätterwald GmbH, die Non-Profit-Organisationen in Fragen der Presse- und Öffentlichkeitsarbeit berät.

Desde antes das férias estava devendo um post sobre as descobertas gastronômicas mais recentes. Então vamos lá:

Lucumma –  A cozinha peruana está definitivamente na moda em Buenos Aires. Um dia desses, por acaso, conheci o Lucumma, em Belgrano. Foi a minha estréia na comida desse país que, vim a descobrir, tem uma gastronomia super diversa, combinação de influências milenares, desde a época pré-inca, com sabores das ondas migratórias que recebeu (espanhola, basca, africana, japonesa, italiana, francesa e britânica). A carta do Lucumma tem pratos com nomes estranho como “Ocopa arequipeña”, mas os garçons explicam tudo. Provei um ceviche (pescado cru temperado com limão) de camarões que era uma escultura. Antes, é claro, passei por um pisco sour – bebida típica que se prepara com clara de ovo, suco de limão, pisco e açúcar, tomada como aperitivo. Não achei o lugar muito aconchegante, mas vale pela cozinha. Detalhe importante: não aceitam cartão de crédito

Luccuma – Olazábal 1679 – Belgrano. Tel. 4784-9167

Habibi - O Habibi, aqui do ladinho de casa, é o único árabe de San Telmo. Abriu há poucos meses (no verão, eu acho) e é um petit, petit restaurante, cheio de coisinhas kitch. Já fui lá três vezes e tudo o que provei é maravilhoso, como o shawarma de carne. Há ótimas opções para vegetarianos e um nargilé para os adeptos. As cadeiras não são confortáveis e as mesas são muito perto umas das outras, mas mesmo assim eu gosto. Principalmente agora, que está frio. Há duas mesas do lado de fora, ótimas no final de tarde.

Habibi – Humberto Primo, 527 – San Telmo. Tel. 4300-7172

La Cholita - O La Cholita fica na Recoleta e serve comida regional. Tem uma boa parrilla de carnes e legumes. Na verdade acho que tudo é feito na parrilla, porque lá é o único lugar em que eu como também empanadas na parrilla. Sim, isso existe. O serviço é meio confuso porque sempre tem muita gente. Então, be cool. Tem que pedir um vinho e relaxar. Ah, eles deixam na mesa uma caixinha de lápis de cor para a gente desenhar – ou fazer declarações de amor – nas toalhas. Não sei se isso acontece porque o serviço é demorado ou se é só uma gentileza mesmo

La Cholita – Rodriguez Peña, 1165 – Recoleta – Tel. 4815-4506

PS: em todos os restaurantes de Buenos Aires é bom fazer reserva.

Crédito das fotos: Guia Óleo, um bom referencial gastronômico de Buenos Aires.

Banyak muslim yang masih saja enggan untuk mempelajari sunah Rasul. Mereka menjalani Islam hanya dengan pegangan Al-Quran saja, karena menganggap Al-Quran adalah kitab tertinggi yang kalimat-kalimatnya dituliskan langsung oleh Allah SWT. Orang-orang ini tidak mau mengenal Rasulallah, tidak mau mengetahui pribadi beliau, tidak mau mencontoh sifat beliau, dan/atau mempedomani cara hidup beliau. Cukup Al-Quran saja.

Saudaraku, tahukah anda, bahwa ketika kita dibangkitkan kembali di alam barzah, setelah kita dihidupkan kembali dari alam kubur, kita akan berada di sebuah tempat dimana setiap anak manusia akan berdiri pada barisannya masing-masing. Barisan itu adalah barisan yang menunjukkan siapa imam yang kita ikuti. Umat nabi Musa, akan berdiri di barisan nabi Musa. Umat nabi Ibrahim akan berdiri di barisan nabi Ibrahim, pengikut Firaun akan berdiri di barisan Firaun, pengikut Abu Jahal akan berdiri di barisan Abu Jahal, demikian seterusnya.

Bagaimana dengan kita? Di barisan manakah kita akan berada nanti? Kita, mengaku sebagai umat nabi Muhammad, tapi apakah kita mengenalnya? Apakah kita pernah membaca kisah dan mengikuti sunnah yang ditinggalkannya dalam Al Hadist? Pantaskah kita berada di barisan Rasulallah dan minta syafaat dari Beliau?

Dalam sebuah hadist qudsi, dikisahkan pada suatu hari Rasulallah sedang berkumpul bersama sahabat-sahabatnya. Seorang sahabat bertanya, “Ya Rasul, siapakah mahluk yang nantinya paling mulia di sisi Allah?”

Rasulallah, Saw tidak langsung menjawab, melainkan balik bertanya kepada sahabat yang lain. “Menurut kalian siapa?” Satu sahabat menjawab, “Pasti malaikat. Karena malaikat adalah mahluk yang dapat berkomunikasi langsung dengan Allah.”

Rasulallah menggeleng. “Malaikat sudah pasti mulia. Dari dulu hingga nanti. Tidak ada dosa dan cela, hanya ibadah saja.”

Sahabat yang lain menyahut. “O, saya tau. Kami ya Rasul! Kami sahabat-sahabat Engkau. Pasti kami yang nanti paling mulia di sisi Allah…”

Rasul kembali tersenyum, seraya berkata, “Tentu saja kalian mulia. Kalian hidup di jamanku, kalian mengenal aku, dekat dengan aku, berkomunikasi dengan aku dan mengikuti sunnahku.”

Semua sahabat bingung. “Lantas, siapa mahluk yang paling mulia nanti di sisi Allah ?”

Rasulallah diam. Tak lama kemudian Beliau mulai menangis. Dan Rasul pun berkata, “Mahluk yang paling mulia nanti di sisi Allah adalah manusia yang hidup setelah aku, tidak bertemu denganku, tidak bercakap denganku. Namun…dia mengenalku…. dan dia mengkuti sunnahku…” Air mata Rasulallah makin bercucuran.

Saudaraku, bahkan di penghujung hidupnya saat nyawa tinggal di tenggorokan, Rasulallah tiada memikirkan hal lain kecuali kita, umatnya. Bukan Fatimah putrinya, bukan Aisyah istrinya, bukan para sahabatnya. Tapi kita. “Ummati…ummati…,” “Umatku…umatku….”, demikian bisiknya.

Apakah ada, orang lain yang mencintai kita, yang memikirkan kita hingga sedemikian, kecuali Rasulallah Muhammad Saw….

Allah adalah perbendaharaan yang tersembunyi. Allah ciptakan bumi langit beserta isinya, adalah karena Allah ingin dikenal, oleh manusia. Allah turunkan Muhammad untuk menjadi teladan, karena logika manusia tak akan tembus jika malaikat yang dijadikan contoh. Al-Quran adalah benang merah, “What”-nya. Al-Hadist adalah manualnya, “How”-nya.

Dengan mengenal Rasul, kita akan mengenal Allah. Mencintai Rasul, maka kita mencintai Allah. Karena Rasulallah mengajarkan bagaimana mencintai Allah dengan sunnah2nya, dan bagaimana menggapai spiritualitas yang sebenar-benarnya. Bukan hanya ritual kosong, tanpa spirit di dalamnya.

Lebih jauh, melalui Al-Hadist juga diajarkan bagaimana cara agar kita dicintai Allah. Mencintai dan dicintai…, relationship yang mutualisme… Mungkinkah? Insya Allah, sangat mungkin.

Ya Rasul Salam ‘alaika. Ya Habib Salam ‘alaika. Sholawatullah ‘alaika.

-Miryatie Altaf-

**yang benar dari Allah, yang salah dari saya, mohon dimaafkan, Mir**

So there’s this…

A while ago,  more than a year ago, I was lying flat on my back holding Habibi up in the air.  His arms were stretched out from his sides and he was flying.

“What kind of airplane are you, Habibi?”

“I’m a person!”

So declarative.  So confident.  So not concerned with what kind of a person he was.  No taxonomies for Habibi.  He’s not a sports kid, or a truck kid, or a dreamy kid.  He’s just a kid.  I hope he stays that way forever.  I hope I never try to make him anything else.  I mean, yeah, he can’t stay this young forever, and he needs to learn some things that I need to teach him.

And, yeah, it is, in fact, my responsibility that he become a successful human being and this will probably entail his having to be a good student, whether  he wants to or not; and a team player, whether he wants to or not; and a whole bunch of other things that he will have no choice over, but still.  I would like him to be as much like those couple of really remarkable people I’ve met in my life who really just are who they are.

Yesterday, I called Mimi Smartypants…

Right out of the blue.  “Mimi Smartypants,”* she said when she answered her phone.

“Hi, Mimi Smartypants, it’s Harry.”  I said.

I hadn’t actually spoken to her in at least a year.  It didn’t matter.  We talked about our kids, other people’s kids, jobs, David Foster Wallace.  All of the important things.  Mimi Smartypants is the best example I can give of someone who’s just a person.  She has always been that way.  That’s why I can call her out of the blue and we can just talk.

Most people are just people…

Most people defy taxonomy.  I can joke all I want about how people in DC really want to be classed in a certain way, but it never really works in the end.  Even the most egregious Deputy Assistant Undersecretary who’s talking loudly on his cell phone about the legislative agenda probably secretly likes a whole bunch of things that, well, humanize him.  I hope so.

I know a whole bunch of people who lead kind of public lives.

The ones who are best at those scrutinized jobs aren’t afraid to be human.  They aren’t afraid to come out from behind their job title, or blog, or whatever.  It’s risky.  People make mistakes and have interactions with one another that don’t always feel great.  Job titles seldom do. But job titles don’t actually get it the way people do. Probably because they’ve never made mistakes or had unpleasant interactions with people.

Okay, too heavy.

Now, to lighten things up, I will confess to having no real affection for the music of Tom Waits.  Thanks.

Oh, right, also…

You can read my guest post on Laura Baum’s blog here.

* Actually, she said something else…

The characters: This is our (madammes and I) heart plot-a bed of flowers as a gift for king a.

The setting: A has been a darling as always. The girls have been trying to draw a heart shape lately. They cutsy-it up saying galbooni 7obbi. So naturally, love blooms.

The plot: around the edges I will put some mimosas so that the girls believe me when i say that plants are alive. (they close up to touch), the irony of this being a heart shaped bed does not go unnoticed here either.
the middle might have a couple of stepping stones to make weeding easier. Is this a metaphorical simile?! Then towards the bottom we will have snap dragons so the girls can have fun making them talk, towards the top daylilies to attract hummingbirds. There is a very small round area under the heart that is calling out to some very short very blue flowers. But the soil is so hard close to that tree. I wonder.

elsewhere in our garden, there lies some bleeding hearts

Fraser Island was a perfect part of our journey and it would have been enough to be 100% happy. But it was not all! Lots of great things were still in front of us. One big thing was our 2 Days/ 2 Nights Sailing trip around the Whitesunday Islands. This trip started two days after our Fraser Trip was finished and we had to drive something about 1000 km to come to Airly Beach from where our boat departed. On our way we stopped in Rockhampton, a very good tip of Jule. There we ate Kangaroo, Crocodile and Beef served on a 300°C hot stone on which we had to cook it ourself! That was not only a really good meal but also a very cool experience. The next day we went on our sailing boat called “Habibi” and were sailing around the Whitesundays with about 20 other people. The nature around was looking like the paradise itself! Beautiful untouched beaches with white sand, turquoise water and all day long the hot sun shining!

More over we were snorkeling @ the Great Barrier Reef two times which simply was breathtaking . All the fishes and corals and one time I even saw a huge turtle I touched and followed for a few meters. Back on the mainland we drove up to Cairns while enjoying the way. So we stopped at the “Wallaman Falls”, huge waterfalls that simply look fantastic! Finally we reached Cairns and also nearly the end of our time together. Before Micha left to Sydney we had one very big thing in front of us. We booked a trip out to the Great Barrier Reef for one day! Our boat trip to the swimming Island out there was not so good as I got seasick. On the plateau itself it was much better. I did two introducing dives because I do not have a divers license and Micha did the first dive with my group to remember everything and the second with the licensed divers. I also went snorkeling again and together we had a 5 minutes scenic helicopter flight over the reef which is not describable at all! This view simply is too mind blowing! You did not see it, you can not know it! Trough that 5 minutes is so short it still was the best of all of this great trip! One more day in Cairns and the time was on for Micha to visit Sydney and so we had to say good bye. All in all we had a time that even was to good to be called “great” and for me it was tFraser Island was a perfect part of our journey and it would have been enough to be 100% happy. But it was not all! Lots of great things were still in front of us. One big thing was our 2 Days/ 2 Nights Sailing trip around the Whitesunday Islands. This trip started two days after our Fraser Trip was finished and we had to drive something about 1000 km to come to Airly Beach from where our boat departed. On our way we stopped in Rockhampton, a very good tip of Jule. There we ate Kangaroo, Crocodile and Beef served on a 300°C hot stone on which we had to cook it ourself! That was not only a really good meal but also a very cool experience. The next day we went on our sailing boat called “Habibi” and were sailing around the Whitesundays with about 20 other people. The nature around was looking like the paradise itself! Beautiful untouched beaches with white sand, turquoise water and all day long the hot sun shining! More over we were snorkeling @ the Great Barrier Reef two times which simply was breathtaking . All the fishes and corals and one time I even saw a huge turtle I touched and followed for a few meters. Back on the mainland we drove up to Cairns while enjoying the way. So we stopped at the “Wallaman Falls”, huge waterfalls that simply look fantastic! Finally we reached Cairns and also nearly the end of our time together. Before Micha left to Sydney we had one very big thing in front of us. We booked a trip out to the Great Barrier Reef for one day! Our boat trip to the swimming Island out there was not so good as I got seasick. On the plateau itself it was much better. I did two introducing dives because I do not have a divers license and Micha did the first dive with my group to remember everything and the second with the licensed divers. I also went snorkeling again and together we had a 5 minutes scenic helicopter flight over the reef which is not describable at all! This view simply is too mind blowing! You did not see it, you can not know it! Trough that 5 minutes is so short it still was the best of all of this great trip!

One more day in Cairns and the time was on for Micha to visit Sydney and so we had to say good bye. All in all we had a time that even was to good to be called “great” and for me it was the best time in Australia at all! Thank you so much for this great time with you Micha! And now you get a few pics to get jealous! >he best time in Australia at all! Thank you so much for this great time with you Micha! And now you get a few pics to get jealous!

Not jelous enough? You can finde more pictures here

Yep, that's him. Nope, you can't see his face.

I have been wondering if maybe I should focus this a bit more…

Actually, I have been thinking about Habibi.  I started this as a blog to let Sara know about good things to read, listen to, watch, etc.  But, here’s the thing–Sara actually knows more about these things than I do.

All I really want to write about on this is Habibi.  So I think that’s what I’ll do.

it is a beautiful rainy day here in san francisco.  i’m preparing for my show tomorrow at 111 Minna — price tag stickers, here i come!

side note: my cat Habibi has just attacked his Carrot O’ Cracknip and is now running back and forth along my hallway with a glazed look of delirium on his face.  pretty cute.

yay for blogs!

When I was very young, I was complicit in an act of fraud.

My sister and I were at Bridgeman’s getting ice cream.  She was probably about 17 and had pigtails and overalls, as was the fashion for teens at the time.  I was maybe 2, maybe 3.  The waitress, who was probably in her 40’s or 50’s, commented that my sister’s son was awfully cute—that was me.

My sister launched into a monologue about how hard it had been on her since she’d gotten the news that my father was MIA in Vietnam.  There were tears and hugs from the waitress, and free ice cream.

I don’t know if this really happened or not.

My sister claims it did, but she also included it in a list of fictional events from my childhood that she recently sent me.  Some of the items were crazy unbelievable, and some, like this, were totally plausible.  My actual life is also riddled with crazy unbelievable events, so….

Of course, when I was very young, this same sister used to drive me all sorts of places, including Bridgeman’s.  In those days, kids didn’t use car seats, we rode right up front—this led to the creation of what I like to think of as the reflex on the part of the driver.  If the car needed to stop short, the driver’s right arm would automatically swing back, hitting the child in the passenger’s seat squarely in the solar plexus.  My sister had this reflex.  She still does, actually.  It still knocks the wind out of the passenger.

Love always runs the risk of knocking the wind out of its target, I suppose.

All love–any kind of love.  Habibi does this to me all the time…today on Speaking of Faith (I really want a job working on that program), Jon Kabat-Zinn mentioned that kids are kind of like little Zen masters—always trying to send a shock to their parents’ world.

The other day, Habibi and I were talking about his story and he was asking all these amazing questions about the characters and how I thought of them.

He was really making me work at it, and think, and do all this kind of self-criticism that reminded me of college writing workshops, but so much less horrible.  Suddenly, when I was in the middle of a thought, he threw a ball directly at my head.  Hard.  It was a squishy ball, but still…. When I asked him why he threw a ball at my head, he actually answered: “I wanted to see if I could do it.”