Friday, January 3, 2014

“23 things to do before you turn 23”: Why we are obsessed with and what to take away from it.



I think we are familiar with the article that is the namesake of this blog post (and the subsequent responses here and here) which fueled the keyboards of many 20-somethings.

We all dug in. Quite whole-heartedly. Why?

Because we are dynamic.

Biologically, emotionally, professionally. You never stop. As a result of this innate trait, you’ve either have 1) not experienced something, or 2) been there and done that. Some of the recent commentary has been from the crowd that has never been engaged to marry before, and for good reason.

It simply reminded myself and my 20-something peers that we have yet to experience something that seems so prevalent. It’s one thing to know someone who has been involved in a school shooting, worked as a photographer in the Himalayas, and been laid off from work, or received coveted tickets from a radio talk show. But marriage? Tis the season. The Atlantic just published a piece citing that 33% of engagements occur between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day. Because we’re inundated by this thing we have never experienced before, our minds wander. If? Who? When? How? And gosh – how does that all work if you’re [insert age here]? But my mind wanders about many other experiences. How would my life be different if I was born into a Buddhist family? There are more blog posts about finding love than about Buddhist upbringings, so exposure may be part of the reason for the obsession.

But perhaps more relevant is the fact that because we are dynamic, we have experienced some things, which undoubtedly fueled the fire:

Expectations. We live in a world of expectations and we all know what it feels like when an expectation is not met. Relationships involve a delicate mix of timing and chemistry, among other things. Many of us undoubtedly have had heartaches caused by either a vacuum of chemistry or ill timing. I’ve experienced both. They are far from rainbows and butterflies. Crushed expectations have taught us so much and have made us indifferent, excited, or disgusted by marriage, as the three authors have expressed.

Reciprocation. We shouldn’t expect something in return for every favor we’ve done or gift we give. But when it comes to emotions, reciprocation – or the lack thereof – is difficult to ignore. It’s been the beat to so many songs. Listen to Ron Pope’s “One Grain of Sand”. Enough said. “[Insert age here] and married” means that reciprocation is not only strong, but supposedly eternal. Many of us haven’t been there, nor done that. Fire up the keyboards.

Culture. The “nucleus” of human life looks different in different cultures. For those of you know who me well, you have heard me speak about the crazy accurate similarities between My Big Fat Greek Wedding and my upbringing (loud cousins included). My Lebanese family, like Tula’s, agrees that the family is the core of each of our lives. In other cultural contexts, that’s not the case. To be empowered as an individual in the United States looks and feels very different than being that in my parents’ hometowns in the Middle East. Behind our keyboards, “23 and married” reverberates differently with everyone.

I’m sure you can think of other reasons we got carried into this. But what can we take away from this and move forward with?

It’s the fact that whether the nucleus of life is yourself, you + family, or you + a partner, we are made to be dynamic. Being dynamic allows us to understand what we enjoy, what we loathe, what we will never do again, and what we hope to try. But think about the good side of dynamic, the positive kind. The kind of dynamic of doing good to yourself and others. The people with positive dynamics tore down the Berlin wall, juggle multiple jobs and get food on the table, produce some wicked Beyonce choreography, write timeless novels, and care for aging parents. And in all of those things, marriage may or may not have been a part of it.

Whatever allows you to be positively dynamic is what you should cling onto. If flying solo with your closest friends has taken you to high points, then hold onto them tightly. If your family has been helping you find all that awesomeness of yours, then don’t let that go. And if you stumble upon someone who you believe can walk with you as you are bringing out the best of your dynamic self, then let’s celebrate that. 

Who am I to judge what brings the best out of you?

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Updates!

Hello from Morocco!

It is 11pm right now and I am getting ready to go to bed. Arabic class is at 8:30am tomorrow and my lecture is at 1pm after lunch. I usually like to go exploring after class and I'm considering taking a run by the beach tomorrow afternoon, so I best get some sleep.

Today, I went surfing with my host sisters Widad and Kawtar. It was so much fun! I hadn't realized how powerful waves can be. My throat is so dry from all the sea water I swallowed.

My friends Alicia, Mark, Megan, Denise, and I decided to meet yesterday to take a train to a beach called Skhirat. Unfortunately, like the tourists we are, we reached the train station with no knowledge of how often that particular train runs. The next one wasn't until 4:30pm. Instead, we walked back into the medina to hit the local beach behind Oudaya, or the Kasbah. On our way there, we ran into two girls our age who were on another study abroad program. They were doing Semester at Sea and their ship had docked in Spain a couple of days ago. They are spending the week backpacking around Morocco and Spain. It was really great to help them get oriented to the medina and Rabat in general. I didn't realize how much I knew until they started asking me where things were and how to get there!

Friday was the first day of the Eid -- the celebration of the end of the month of Ramadan. My host family and I donned our best clothes and crossed a couple of busy intersections by foot to visit my sisters' grandmother in the Kasbah. She is a very, very old woman with a huge laugh and a booming voice. Everything she said was apparently very, very funny and the entire room would choke with laughter. She had henna dyed all over her fingers and feet. My host mom prepared a lunch of lamb and potatoes for all of us to share.

We spent the entire day at the house. That evening, Alicia, Mark, and I met up at Balima Cafe downtown just to chat and catch up. Annie and Danny met up with us later and we were all trying to make plans for hiking, taking trains, going out of town some weekends, even heading to Spain after the program. So much to do...yet only 3 months!

I am blessed and happy to say that I am really enjoying Morocco. The medina is very overwhelming sometimes but not to the point when I want to throw my hands up in the air and cry. It's a wonderful type of overwhelming -- no two days in the medina are ever the same!

Sending lots of love from Morocco,
Asil

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

So much to do, so much to be!

I am utterly exhausted. In between learning Darija Arabic, recovering from a terrible stomach flu, loving and exploring every bit of Rabat, planning my independent study project, keeping up with friends and family back in the States, studying for my LSAT, picking up as much French as I can, and meticulously taking pictures of everything and everyone, I have forgotten to sleep.

I am leaving in a bit to watch a jet ski competition on the shore of Rabat! Will be back much later -- hopefully with great pictures!

Carpe diem,
Asil

Monday, September 6, 2010

Mizyan!





Mizyan means "good!" in Darija. I think I have a pretty good grasp of some darija -- mostly adjectives and nouns like "delicious!" and "broken!" and "bathroom" and "fruit".

Today was my first real day of classes. I had Arabic at the Marassa annex of CCCL outside the walls of the medina. After class I talked to the storekeeper who tried to fix my phone, but sadly it was unsuccessful. I had lunch at the main CCCL complex, chatted a bit with the cook, and headed on over to another CCCL annex where we had our lecture with Professor Abdelhay.

We started talking about Morocco in very broad terms so that when we study the human rights and political progresses that have been made, we have a good idea of what the country has seen and done in the past. I had no idea that Morocco was not colonized until 1912 -- pretty impressive considering Spain is just a stone throw's away.
I feel like I left a lot of grey areas that I should fill in since I arrived in Morocco. Great things have been happening!

1) We had our first iftar, or breaking of the fast, Wednesday evening in the main CCCL center. We broke the fast with dates, bread, milk, and lots of sweets. Ibrahim, the jolly chef that works here, brought out a dish to every table called Pastilla. I don't think I have ever tasted anything like it! It is like chicken pot pie with a very sweet filo dough covering. The flavor was absolutely stunning! It was like eating dessert and dinner at the same time.

2) Thursday afternoon we found out about our host families! Here's a picture of me holding up my family's info sheet and anxiously waiting at the CCCL for members of my host family to arrive. I was bursting with excitement if you could not tell!

3) There are cats EVERYWHERE! And they are incredibly tiny and malnourished. It's a bittersweet sight.

Tonight is Laylatul Qadr. The king of Morocco, King Mohammad VI, appears on television this evening to do a special ceremonial prayer. My host mother has lit up these scented ashes and placed them around the house. She explained that this was tradition in laylatul qadr, which roughly translates into "the night of power/fate". This mystical night supposedly is the night in which the skies of heaven open up and virtually every prayer is accepted. The mosques are laden with pious and laymen alike.







Reporting from Rue Taht al Hammam, bonne nuit!

Asil

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Insomnia and iPhones

It is Sunday afternoon here in Rabat and I am spending my time reading and jotting down some notes for my independent study project.

My sleep schedule resembles that of a terribly jet-lagged traveler. I prided myself last week when I arrived in Morocco -- I had absolutely no jetlag. I meticulously plotted my sleep schedule on my flights to the country so that when I arrived I did not have to waste time sleeping in.

What goes around, comes around! Because of Ramadan, my host family wakes up at 3:30am to have a small meal of fruit, cheese, bread, and tea to jump-start the fast. We don't go to bed until maybe 1:30am or 2am because dinner is served at midnight (we break the fast with a small meal at 7pm). That said, I have been sleeping intermittedly throughout the day.

Today I woke up at 10:30am and lounged around and read for an hour. I decided I was going to get my phone fixed once and for all (for those of you who haven't heard, I dropped my iPhone in a random bucket of water in a fitting room Wednesday night). I went into the souk and found a modest electronics vendor. The salesman was resistant to try saving my phone once he heard it was dropped in water, but after urging him that it works more often than not, he gave it a whirl.

After about half an hour, he got up off of his chair and motioned for him to follow me. In very hasty Darija (I had to ask for a translation at several points into Lebanese Arabic) he told me he has a friend that could better fix this. We took a 5 minute walk, hiking through very tiny alleyways and parading through markets of vegetables, lingerie, and dates. The only thing going through my mind at this point was the first thing SIT told us at orientation: "Don't follow young men into dark alleyways." Looks like I broke the first rule of studying abroad.

It was midday and there were lots of people around. After squeezing through the last set of shoulders, we arrived at another quaint electronics parts shop. He left it at that and bid adieu. The little boy working with his dad behind the counter handed me a plastic stool to sit on. Thumbing through my French phrasebook in my backpack, I looked up every now and then to check the status of the phone. Customers went in and out. People want the most obscure things for their phone -- a new chain, a forest green backing, a rubber stopper for the headphone jack. Apparently the store had it all. Finally the gentleman told me that the phone needed a program run on it overnight and that I could come back tomorrow to receive it.

Now, my first piece of advice in Morocco was to never trust anyone. But I know myself -- it's pretty difficult to do just that. I said a little prayer, asked a few questions, and surrendered my phone to the stranger. I am not very attached to it anyhow. It's pretty beaten up. We'll see how it goes.

Updates on my adventure tomorrow!

Friday, September 3, 2010

Morocco!

Hello!

My host sisters and I are listening and singing to Train's "Soul Sister" in the study in my Moroccan riad.

Don't fret though -- I know I have left America. I have been in Morocco for almost one week and so far I like it a lot! It is very different. I am having a wonderful time getting to know a very different culture. Although I speak Arabic, there is a serious language barrier between Lebanese Arabic and Moroccan Darija. It has challenged me! I love it!

This week really has been a culture shock.

I had never seen Ramadan in an Islamic country before. After about 9pm, the entire country is out on the streets drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice, buying trinkets and toys, enjoying desserts, or simply walking along the beach.

Here is a picture of my room, Room 108, in Hotel Majestic!
I had the most difficult time getting my luggage from the esteemed Air France. As usual, they held it hostage for a few days. I finally got it back Wednesday night. I took a grand taxi to the airport and back and striked up a fascinating conversation with the driver. He was extremely helpful and gave me a lot of good tips about getting around Rabat.

The day before, I had surmised that I was not getting my luggage back anytime soon so I hit the souk in the evening after iftar to buy a couple of essentials. While I was trying on a pair of jeans in the fitting room, I hear my phone ring. I reach for my bag, take it out, but I was in such a rush (you don't want to miss international calls) that my phone slipped out of hand and landed in a random bucket of water that happened to be sitting in the fitting room. I'm still not sure why.

Anyways! There have been lots of insults and injuries (figuratively) but I am overall having a wonderful time! We stayed in Hotel Majestic on Avenue Hassan II in Rabat until Thursday. I had a wonderful roommate named Alicia from Boulder, Colorado. She and I are besties now! I am looking forward to exploring Morocco with her. Here is a picture of Alicia amazed by my B.O. I blame Air France.


Until next time...bssalama!
Asil

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Cowboy Boots

Let me get straight to the point -- I think I am less comfortable leaving the familiar behind than I thought I was.

By all means, don't understand me wrong. I am absolutely psyched about being in Morocco! I cannot wait to be there and see everything and meet new people and learn different dialects of Arabic. What crushes me I think is that this eagerness also doesn't spill over into my daily life as well.

Wherever I am in the world, I feel like I always need to be connected. Nobody really has to be physically present but there is a certain pressure from this globalized society that we are in today to be constantly communicating. Truth be told, I have lapses of isolation when I have no desire of being in touch. But I cannot say those last more than a couple of days.

My goal for Morocco is simple: to challenge myself to slowly let go of everything that is familiar to me. If I succeed, then I think I will have also learned more about myself.

If I fail, does this mean I have a 9-to-5 mentality that I cannot shake off? Is it American culture? Is it the Generation Y? Is it simply me?

I admit that I am attached to many, many things. I will miss much about the lifestyle that I am currently engaged in. Namely -- my cowboy boots.

I feel so secure in them. If I could wear them every day, I would. No matter what the weather, those boots are ready to endure whatever comes their way. The constant plop-plop of the sole make me feel grounded to something. There isn't much of a bounce in the shoe because this is a no-nonsense piece of art. There is something about it that makes me feel , well, happy.

I had made up my mind several weeks ago that I would take my boots with my to Morocco. When I felt like I needed to be home, I would simply pull them out and wear them around in the souks. Sure, I'd get a couple of glances and raised eyebrows, but afterall, I was in my beloved boots. Nobody can hurt me when they are on my feet.

But just now, I have decided to leave them at home, tucked in their box under my mattress. The only thing that I am bringing from home is myself. Everything else may be material but the only thing that can make me feel what I truly want to feel -- renewed -- is simply myself.

So adieu, cowboy boots! We'll catch up in February.