The Last Day

Friday, my last day, I got up early (to make up for oversleeping on Thursday) and, with Monica's help, took the bus to Ravenna.

Ravenna was once the capital of the Western Roman Empire, and home to some gorgeous mosaics from the Byzantine era. I visited four of the most famous: Battistero Neoniano, Basicial di S. Apollinare Nuovo, Basilica di S. Vitale and the Mausoleo di Galla Placidia. They were truly breathtaking!

After that, I walked around the city for awhile (ahem, ZARA) and grabbed a potato and mozarella piadina, a flatbread sandwich famous in the region. I caught the early bus back to Faenza, packed and then road Monica's bike out to the farm (6k through beautiful vineyards, in the DARK, which wasn't very smart). The days are cloudy, but even in the dank darkness of November, it's still picturesque.

As an endcap to a fabulous week and wonderful vacation, Monica and Michele, their friends and I, went out to her cousin's seafood restaurant, Titon.

Let me just say, if you can get a cousin/uncle/grandfather to own an restaurant in Italy - DO IT.
We had five different antipasti's (including fish carpaccio, a tomato/squid soup, and prawn and thistle (yes, thistle) stew). Then we had three different kinds of grilled fish, and a seafood "toss" - lightly fried squid, prawns, fish, zuchinni, etc. Plus, all the wine you could drink. (and a 'tween course palate refreshener with lemon and vodka- VODKA!)

Then, oh THEN, came the dessert, including ganache, pistacchio mousse, cannoli, something like a cointreau liquer flan and creme cartanaga (I'm not sure this is the right name but oh. my. god. gargagaahghghghg Homer Simpson noise) I literally rolled out of that restaurant at midnight.

....and was up again at 4 am to catch my flight.

But you know what? Pffft...I'll sleep when I'm dead. This has been the best vacation and worth every penny (paid in Euro and in sleep!) I am now sitting in the airport (back in Amsterdam) with a huge grin on my face, refreshed, renewed - and sober.

Yes, these are what vacations are FOR.

Thanksgiving Italian Style

Thursday Monica had to work, so she left me to my own devices to explore Faenza. I ended up oversleeping, missing the town market AND the ceramic museum but the extra sleep was totally worth it. I did some laundry, had a late lunch and bummed around town.

Later that evening, I joined Monica out at the farm where she works. Several of her friends and co-workers were gathered there, cooking a 4 kilo stuffed turkey and the Thanksgiving works. In between last minute things, Monica made three squash "pumpkin" pies. We roasted sweet potatoes, someone brought homemade stuffing and Michele mashed potatoes. For my part, I snapped beans and drank wine :)

By the time the turkey was done, fifteen people had arrived. We watched Jonathan (the head chef) carve the boneless turkey and place the thick steamy slabs on a plastic platter Monica pulled from somewhere. The best part was a homemade green bean-mushroom-and-fried onion concotion Jonathan pulled from the Food Network website. No Campbells soup here! It was hands-down terrific.

As we organized ourselves buffet style, a few of the un-initiated Italians were unsure of all the food. Monica immediately gave a rundown of the basics, instructing everyone to pile their plates high. Apparently, mixing the savory items with the sweet squash and the roast sweet potatos caused the most consternation. "Plating" is a concept not yet inculcated in American households, so it was interesting to watch the Italians arrange small portions on several plates and make trips back and forth to the buffet. I'm happy to say I piled my plate high and only left the turkey skin as a remnant of my gnoshing.

During the normal course of these international holiday celebrations, talk inevitably floats towards traditions. Thinking it over, I've celebrated Thanksgiving in Switzerland, Singapore, Washington DC and now, Italy. Each time, I bring up my family tradition of going around the table saying what we're thankful for according to letters of the alphabet. In DC, since I hosted, I made everyone at the table do it. I was going to keep quiet about it, but Monica has had thanksgiving with me before and insisted that we do it.

It's a good exercise in that it reminds us what we have in our lives (my Love, was one of them; Parents were another) and also elicits laughs for the more difficult letters (Questra turque (THIS turkey, for "q"). Although hokey, it's nice to see some traditions carry over. I think my mom would be proud.

I snuck away after dinner to skype my family, but someone kindly delivered a delicious piece of squash pumpking pie (plus homemade whip cream!). More wine. Caffe's all around. Jokes. Things devolved into only Italian later on the evening, but for the most part I was able to follow the conversation. Here was a place for people to gather, laugh, care for one another and eat mightily.

Now that's home, isn't it?

Viva Italia!

On Monday, we drove to the romanticized and much loved region of Tuscany, three hours from Monica's place in Faenza. It's November in Italy, and while there's no snow, overall it's cloudy, grey and foggy. However, after crossing over the Appenines, the weather immediately became sunnier and warmer. While romantics might encourage thinking this comes from the beauty of Tuscany, Monica assured me it was strictly geographical - there is simply no Po river valley in Tuscany!

We stopped first in Cortona and later, after dark, hit Montepulciano. (Side note: turns out that several scenes from the New Moon (Twilight) movie were filmed in Montepulciano. Who knew there were vampires in Italy?) We stopped at a copper smith, who made me a small bookmark while he chatted with Monica (he stamped 8 flowers on it, "One for each children" he winked) and then on to a small winery for some delicious Vino Nobile.

That night, we stayed with their friend, Pietro, who owns a small farmhouse in Gallina and had prepared wild boar stew for our visit. Being big cyclists (Monica owns a bike touring company), the next day we biked 26k through the Val d'Orcia to Montalcino. Best. ride. ever (even if I swore my undying hatred to Monica's fiance during the last 6k - an excruciatingly long 7 degree climb to the top of the hilltown. He took it in stride though - at one point, he biked and pushed me with one hand). I was rewarded at the top with a delicious meal of rabbit, polenta and Brunello wine.

That evening, the four of us headed to a small public hot spring. Having experienced the onsens of Japan, I was excited, and expecting a small hut, or place to change and wash before entering. Nope. It really was just two pools of hot water at the base of mountain, under a lamppost, next to a road, with some benches around it. It was rustic, and beautiful. A half moon and twinkling stars dangled above the valley, a few naked men lounged along the edge. I couldn't have imagined a better end to the perfect day.

After a late night of drinking Cuban rum and playing board games, we finally rolled out of bed and said goodbye to Pietro, his chickens and his lovely Tuscsan farmhouse. We found our way to Pienza and Siena, the latter being a truly gorgeous city. We crawled home, exhausted, ordered pizza from the shop round the corner. I slept for 12 hours.

I am hard pressed to remember a vacation as satisfying and relaxing as this one. When I backpacked through Rome and Florence in college, I distincly remember not liking it very much. Too many people, too much male attention, too dirty, too touristy. I keep teasing my friends that they've singlehandedly changed my perception of an entire country.

When I arrived on Sunday, Monica took me to a truffle and oil festival. As we chatted with one of the vendors (and smelled his white truffles - wow!), he found out that I'd only be here a week. "That's just enough time to make you stay longer," he said.

He's not wrong.

Kindred Spirits

I returned home from my last trip, little worse for wear (save a wicked cold). Jumped straight into work (again), and then turned around and got on a plane two weeks later to Mombasa, Kenya. There's not much to post about that trip, as I spent it mostly inside a conference room.

Now, I am in Italy - resting - and, following on the advice of Elizabeth Gilbert - eating.

I'm also visiting my good friend and her fiance, whom I love to bits. They recently got engaged and I've never been more excited to look at churches, explore reception areas and discuss life plans. Anne Shirley would call them Kindred Spirits.

Having recently hit a milestone in my life, which I feel really good about, I'm realizing that life is made up of Kindred Spirits. You need these people - the ones that understand you, sniffle with you and call internationally when need be. I would've crawled from Africa to get here.

Anyway, that's my only thought these days. Make friends, keep family close, but keep your kindred spirits closer.

Four More Days...

I can’t say that I hate Bangladesh, but it’s not winning many bonus points this week. Dhaka is loud, polluted and stinks. The pollution is so bad the air smells acrid, and my throat itches all the time. By the end of the day, my eyes are dry and scratchy. There’s so much dirt and dust kicked up that my sinuses swell and my lymph nodes kick into overdrive, causing my ears to pound and my jaw to hurt. Garbage is ubiquitous, and even if I can’t see it, I can smell the sickly sweet overripe juiciness of it floating in unexpected places. Sometimes its so overpowering, I have to cover my mouth and my nose.

My hotel, although in a “nice” area of town, seems also to be in the direct flight path of every aircraft in the subcontinent, which roars past morning, noon and evening (luckily, I don’t hear them so much at night). I’ve never slept on a harder mattress for more than one night, my feet are always dirty and, as far as I can tell, I am the only person staying here. The all male staff are also, a little too attentive. Plus, I am stuck eating room-service every night (it’s either that or sit by myself in the empty restaurant below, with all the waitstaff watching me).

Sigh. I am trying to keep things in perspective. I just came from a five-star hotel in Colombo, where I’d already spent five weeks of my life. I had a certain level of autonomy – I already had the grocery store scoped out, made a few friends, access to a spa and been able to maintain my healthy with Mr. Gin and Mr. Tonic. Plus, I wasn’t the only foreigner. I was just one of a zillion hotel guests able to come and go as I pleased, with relative anonymity. It was easy to arrive there, do what I needed to do, and have a little fun.

Here, I’m at ground zero all over again. There’s no grocery store. Project staff tell me that there are no restaurants near by (and as far as I can tell, they’re right). I don’t know anyone. There’s a “spa” next door, but it’s quite scary. The first night here, I ventured out by myself, but was hassled so much I just couldn’t take it. What little sights I did see (the National Parliament, the War Memorial) took a long time to get to through awful traffic and weren’t all that exciting to see.

So, for the past five days, I’ve basically been doing the same thing: walking to work, working, eating, walking home from work, talking a walk around the park, working, watching TV, ordering room service, working and sleeping.

So yes, Bangladesh is sucking a little bit. Luckily, I’m not here forever - and tomorrow, I’m heading up-country. Months of travelling in cushy places have sheltered me, but I know I’ll get back in the swing of things. This is culture shock. The project staff are wonderful and I know there is some charm to be had around here….somewhere.

…….hopefully.

In Today's Bangladesh "Daily Star"

...I just don't know what to say to this. Well, ok I have lots to say, but just read it for yourself.

36% women say 'wife beating justified'
Alpha Arzu

A large number of women who are the worst victims of spousal violence believe that husbands have the right to beat up their wives if they neglect their children, argue with husbands or disobey the elders, specially mothers-in-law and fathers-in-law, revealed a government survey recently.

A total of 36 percent women believe that a husband is justified in bashing his wife for any of the aforesaid reasons, but the most widely accepted reason for wife beating among women in the country is disobeying elders like mothers/fathers-in-law, according to the 5th and latest Bangladesh Demographic and Health Survey (BDHS) 2007.

Again, 24 percent women believe that if a husband beats up his wife for disobeying elders is justified, followed by 22 percent who believe that arguing with husbands is justified, 18 percent for going out without telling their husbands while 16 percent for neglecting children is justified. Only nine percent of women feel that denying sex is an acceptable reason for a man to beat up his wife.

On the other hand, 36 percent men aged between 15 and 49 years agree that at least one of the reasons given is sufficient justification for wife beating. Men are most likely to justify beating their wives if they argue with their husbands (25 percent), followed by showing disrespect to elders (23 percent).

Like women, men are least likely to say that refusal to have sex (4 percent) is a ground for wife beating. About 16 percent of men feel that neglecting the children or going out without telling them are justifiable reasons for wife beating.

Forty nine percent married women have ever experienced some forms of physical violence by their husbands, 53 percent have experienced some forms of physical or sexual violence while 13 percent have experienced both types of violence.

Eighteen percent women are physically forced to have sex by their husbands when they do not want to.

The study showed that the most common act of physical violence is slapping. Forty six percent married women are being slapped by their husbands. The next common act of physical violence is being pushed, shaken or having something thrown at them (30 percent).

Almost 17 percent of married women reported that their husbands punch them with their fists or with something that can hurt them. Fifteen percent of women are victims of kicking, dragging and beating. An equal percentage reported that their husbands twist their arms or pulled their hair.

The survey also stated that physical violence is directly related to the duration of the marriage. Thirty percent of women who got married less than five years ago reported having their experience of physical violence, compared with 47 percent of women married off between five and nine years and 54 percent more than 10 years' after their marriage.

Women residing in Chittagong and Sylhet experience less physical violence compared with women in other divisions.

The survey also showed that age at marriage is higher in Chittagong and Sylhet compared with other divisions. Sexual violence is lowest in Sylhet and Khulna while highest in Barisal. Twenty one percent of married women in Barisal reported sexual violence, followed by 20 percent of women in Dhaka.

Bangladesh Mahila Parishad President Ayesha Khanam told The Daily Star, “Vigorous campaign about the rights of women are the best way to stop such violence. This is really unfortunate that male partners or husbands here think that without torturing their female partners, their power is not being exercised.”

On the other hand, there is no alternative to empowering and making women aware of their rights in family. The law enforcement agencies should come forward to stopping such heinous spousal violence, said leader of the women's human rights-based organisation

One of the upshots of travelling alone is that there's no one around with which to share your witty thoughts, pet peeves or general observations. Oftentimes, they're too short for blogging, and too long for Facebook (I'm not on Twitter - if I was, I'd never leave my computer).

As it is, I subsequently end up walking around composing pithy Facebook updates in my head (Mtanga...finds it hard to believe a whole planefull of people could not know about deoderant). However, not wanting to appear as socially isolated (and let's face it, lame) as I really am, most of these posts flicker through my head and then flicker on out.

But, after 24 hours of travel, I've got a buildup. I'm not going to paste them all on Facebook, but the backlog in my head is making it hard to sleep.

Mtanga....

...forgot that cell phone etiquette is a lost art in Sri Lanka. Apparently, Nokia doesn't have a "silent" option for its asian market. If her co-worker answers his phone one more time in the middle of the meeting, she might just shove it down his throat.
...finds the jewlery commercial that starts with "They arranged everything, even our marriage" creepy.
...loves having friends in all corners of the world. Hopes to see them again, soon!
...finds insecure women annoying.
...it's hard to Lose Sarah Marshall when that's the only movie on TV 24/7.
...has to stop leaving her cell phone in the backseat of taxicabs. This is just getting ridiculous.
...hates being watched.
...working at 12 am in Dubai. Either bored, extremely responsible or just lame. Voting lame.
...bought the exact same phone she lost in Sri Lanka, for four bucks cheaper. Let's hear it for global commerce!
...doesn't understand people who unbuckle their seatbelt and bumrush the front of the plane before we're even done taxing. You're not making it any easier for the rest of us!
...would like to give you a lesson in personal space.
...is not afraid to use her elbows.
...battled the world's worst baggage claim, and won.
...the smell of rotting garbage in the hot tropical sun. Yum! Haven't seen any dog-heads yet though, so that's something.
...the delivery of your fruitbasket does not supercede my need to sleep.

Numerology

One of the many conversations I had on the drive between Colombo and Batticaloa involved numerology. Thus far in my life, I'd only encountered numerology in the back pages of Cosmopolitan as yet another quiz to take to tell me things I already knew about myself (Your personality is: Normal! Your skin type is: Combination! You like: Men!)

I was chatting with our accountant whose wife just gave birth to their second child a few weeks ago. He mentioned they hadn't yet chosen a name, but that is had to start with the letter "K", according to the childs numerology. I've heard of different naming conventions across the world, but this was the first time I'd come across numerology.

So what's my number? I asked. Adding the date of the day of my birth (1+7) means my number is 8. According to our Chief of Party (also a believer) this means I am a strong leader, with the potential to go far in life.

Easy for him to say, I thought, so I sought information from the interwebs. According to Spiritual Numerology.com Number 8 is the most powerful of all numbers.

You most likely have some of the following strengths and talents at your disposal if the number 8 appears in your numerology chart: You are inspiring, result-oriented, powerful, ambitious, visionary, generous, perseverant, forgiving, broad-minded, money-conscious and self-disciplined. You have the potential for enormous success and the possibility to accumulate great wealth. You are also a good judge of character a natural leader and a survivor.

Some of the following weaknesses, which are associated with the number 8, could slow down or even prevent your progress. Most probably, only one or a few of them will belong to you: You might be stubborn, intolerant, impatient, stressed, materialistic, impatient with people, arrogant and reckless. You have the power to accumulate great wealth, but you also susceptible to loosing everything. You are a gambler, you have a strong desire for luxuries and you can fall for corruption.

Woo-Hoo!

M.