Japan Day 5

Respectful people

Busy trains

Hot humid weather

Tasty food

Expressionless pedestrians

Deafening cicadas

These have been my observation of Kobe, Japan, in the past few days in July. I wake up early in the morning and go for a run in the hot humid early morning weather, listening to the defeaning sound of cicadas.

On this day 5, which is also a Saturday, my colleague and I got a local guide being a colleague's daughter. Her name is Akiyo. Such a nice young lady. She chaperoned us to Rokko Mountain Music Box Museum. It had been an incredible journey going up the steep mountain by a cable car.  The serene and pure scenery makes one instantly feel calm and content, so pure I found myself praying.

The antique museum of music boxes is inviting making me yearn for my family even more. There is a beautiful little garden in the back of the building with a Lillie pad filled pond.

We got to listen to a "concert" when some of the music boxes were put in play.

It's hot, serene, beautiful and I wish for my family!

How?

Scene: A father at a morgue clinging to his killed daughter crying softly not letting go...

How can this happen?

How can one endure watching this?

How can how can one cause this?

How can one live with himself after committing this?

How cruel can man be?

How?

My First Trip to Japan

I left home with a heavy heart. Saying goodbyes was too hard, hardest than ever indeed. The flight direction didn't help either. The fact that we set off over the Pacific Ocean  heading to an island called Japan made me feel further away from my family.  I found my tears welling in my eyes a few times during the 11+ hours of trip forcing me to want to keep busy.

We left at 11AM and arrived at 3PM after 11 hours of chasing the sun.

The hot and humid weather of Osaka airport welcomed us. It was hard to breathe in the thick air. It took us another 45min of cab ride to arrive at Kobe city all the while passing industrial ports and areas.

Our hotel is located on the Kobe Port Island. The room was conveniently air conditioned which was a blessing. After a short rest we headed for dinner at a local buffet which served American food.

So far based on my observation,the cost of goods are comparable to US.

I slept from 8:30pm to 1:15am. It was hard to sleep after that.

First day of work has been filled with presentations and meetings. Espesifically we attended an all Japanese seminar.  Jet lag kicked in too early that afternoon.

I got to face time with family which was both happy and sad.

The Sorrows of The Time

She is smiling into my eyes beaming her baby teeth at me.  Her saliva is running from her mouth.  I just fed her a quarter of a grape.  I look into her deep brown cheerful eyes and I wonder, when was the last time that mother fed her baby a piece of fruit?  Is she lactating still?  Or she has lost the magical power to the sorrows of the time?  After all she was forced out of her house.  She grabbed whatever she could thinking mainly of her little one, leaving her life behind to shelter in a school.  There are 50,000 of them.  How many schools are there in that tiny strip?  I wonder how they bathe, how they eat, how they feed their children.
Then I look into my daughters eyes.  Still smiling.  Oblivious to all the sorrows of the time.  My son is playing "Transformers" on the other side of the living room.  He shouts "I am a tank now".  I walk to him and hear myself telling him: "my dear son!  If there is one word I would use the word 'hate' to describe my feelings toward, it is WAR.  I hate war.  And everything associated with it.  Tanks.  Guns.  Fighter jets.  So do me a favor and do not talk to me about your games related to any of these words."  He looks into my eyes with disbelief.  I am sure he didn't anticipate such reaction from mommy.  I kiss his tanned face and walk back to the kitchen.  Pondering on the events of the days.
I was listening to NPR yesterday when a David guy and a Mark guy were discussing the events of the region.  David was saying how they were using people as human shield.  Mark responded "with all your equipment it is hard to imagine you wont be able to differentiate four little boys in shorts passing a ball at the beach".  I found my body in physical pain listening to the discussion.  How calm David was in describing their killing civilians as "defending".  How calm they all are in defending themselves.  I turned off the radio and a few hours later, browsing the news increased my pain.  I read in Huffington Post:  "Earlier this week, Human Rights Watch called for the Israeli military to 'end unlawful attacks that do not target military objectives and may be intended as collective punishment or broadly to destroy civilian property.' "


Heartbreaking Photograph Of One Father's Grief Reveals The Real Cost Of Violence In Gaza

I look at this father's teary eyes, wailing at a loss, and I wonder, did he pass him the ball himself?  May be he cheerfully sent his nine year old off to play at the beach with his cousins.  May be he didn't kiss him in his rush, thinking there would come the sleeping time and he would kiss his son's eyes tucking him to bed.  Alas.  He kissed his corps instead just a few hours after, before they poured dirt on his body, burring his young corps too soon, too innocent.

As God is my witness, I am not thinking about this man as a Palestinian.  Nor do I think about his faith when I think about this tragedy.  In fact, I don't care.  I don't care where he was born, to which family, to which faith.  What I care about is the fact that he is a man.  He is a father.  He could be Muslim or Jewish.  God knows, it doesn't matter to me his faith. What matters to me is his heart, his soul, him being a human being.

Then I remember an article I had read a few days ago in Independent with a picture of an Israili parliamentarian beside a picture of another young body slayed.  Her eyes have hunted me in my dreams, just click on the link to see them.
"She is young. She is pretty. She is a university graduate and a computer engineer. She is also an Israeli Parliamentarian - and the reason why I am on the brink of burning my Israeli passport." ... "A week earlier, just before 17-year-old Mohammed Abu Khudair was snatched and burned alive, Shaked wrote: “This is not a war against terror, and not a war against extremists, and not even a war against the Palestinian Authority. The reality is that this is a war between two people. Who is the enemy? The Palestinian people. Why? Ask them, they started it.”

They started what, I wonder.  Remember early on?

As far as I can see, they accepted you.  They gave you refuge. You were supposed to live together, as some of you had for centuries.  But no.  You didn't honor the kindness.  You didn't honor them accepting you.  Perhaps you never accepted them in the first place.

I don't know all the details of course.  I know they are claiming that they are defending themselves and their settlements.  However, looking at this map only and only, I think by myself, who is defending and who is attacking?  Imagine that you gave refuge to a family and let them make a settlement in a piece of your land.  Then imagine that they start building more settlements in your land.  You talk to them demanding them to stop.  They ignore you.  You start shouting at them.  They ignore you and push further in your land and build more settlements.  You start throwing stones at them.  They respond back by firing at you.  Are they defending themselves against your throwing stones at them after they invaded you, after they built settlements in your land?  Or are you defending your land?  But wait.  You were defending your land before they were in your land.  Now you are ... defending?  Offending? Insisting?  Striving to remain alive?  I really don't know what the word is to describe this event.  By God.  I don't care if you are Jewish or they are Muslims or the other way around. It could be just the reverse and my argument would be exactly the same.

Here are some stories reported by The Guardian I didn't have the heart to read all but they made me speculate on the above scenario:

Stories from an occupation: the Israelis who broke silence

A group called Breaking the Silence has spent 10 years collecting accounts from Israeli soldiers who served in the Palestinian territories. To mark the milestone, 10 hours' worth of testimony was read to an audience in Tel Aviv... Out of the ones I read in torment, this one is buzzing in my ears while I look at the shrinking map:

SERGEANT, ANONYMOUS
Nablus Regional Brigade, Nablus, 2014
"Provocation and reaction" is the act of entering a village, making a lot of noise, waiting for the stones to be thrown at you and then you arrest them, saying: "There, they're throwing stones." Lots of vehicles move inside the whole village, barriers. A barrier seems to be the army's legitimate means to stop terrorists. We're talking about Area B [under civilian Palestinian control and Israeli security control], but the army goes in there every day, practically, provoking stone throwings. Just as any Palestinian is suspect, this is the same idea. It could be a kid's first time ever throwing a stone, but as far as the army is concerned, we've caught the stone thrower."

Who started what?

It hurts and agonizes and depresses me investigating this all and all the silence against the crimes, or worse, all the supports they recieve. I am in pain and I am reminded of the below Persian poem I'm told is inscribed at the United Nations' gate:

"The sons of Adam are limbs of each other

Having been created of one essence

When the calamity of time affects one limb

The other limbs cannot remain at rest

If you have no sympathy for the troubles of others

You are unworthy to be called by the name of a human"

She is asleep now.  Taking a morning nap.  She has put her arms above her head, how she sleeps when she feels calm and secure.  Her angelic face is open and bright.  I am grateful for her calm.  Then I think about that mother.  Where does her one year old sleep these days?  Is there a baby mattress at the refugee camps?  It must be noisy there.  There must be explosions happening around everywhere.  How do they cook?  Do they have any staple?  What if the baby had a little cough?  Are there doctors around?

You poor little baby!  I hope you sleep soundly tonight!

I pray for calm, peace, love, and compassion for every little child anywhere in this World!  Amen!

Prayers Tonight

Oh, God!

May there be grace in that land! The land of free, the land of occupied, the land of God.

Oh, God!

May there be mercy in that land!

Oh, God!

May there be compassion in that land! May there be patience! May there be loving kindness!

Oh, the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful!

Let their hearts be filled with grace, mercy, compassion, and love!

Oh, our Sustainer,

Let them all love, and be loved!

Oh, our Beloved!

May there be grace, mercy, compassion, and love in the heart of all children, our children, and us!

Oh, God!

Let us all love, and be loved!

Amen!

History Lessons

Pondering these days; if a wrong, unjust, cruel action was imposed on to you and victimized you, would you consider doing the same thing to others? Does it become right and just if you impose the same thing on them?

I cannot stop but wonder, does the history repeat itself? Or it just manifests it's fundamental which never changes but changes form from one sect, nation, race to another sect, nation, race?

What is most baffling these days is the similarity of what some suffered from and what they themselves are imposing on to others.

Newness

This is going to be exciting, working for a new employer, with a new team, on a new venture, in a newly refurbished office.

I am grateful to the universe for this new opportunity and set my intentions to work effectively toward the ultimate goal and empower my team to be the best they can and want to.

This is going to be an adventurous ride, with bumpy roads and smooth glides, with joined cultures from east and west diversifying our approach to success.

With a loving caring partner like M by my side I feel ready for it all.  I pray for wisdom and compassion. Amen!

What if we Erased History?

I remember the first time I realized that I'm a girl and there is another gender who are "boys"; it was when my cousin who is 10 months younger than me chanted to us, girls: "boys are lions, they are like swords; girls are mice, they are like bunnies". It wasn't the words that made me pause, there was no shame or pride in being an animal, be it a lion or a bunny. But to my preschooler brain his tone was rather condescending and offensive, or really defensive as there were five of us girl cousins and two of them boy cousins at the scene.  That was just the beginning.  Later I heard that women couldn't judge, or they were not as smart as boys, or that boys are more powerful than girls. None made sense to my little being but people insisted. All the childhood movies were filled with weak girls and ladies and women and powerful heroes. I subconsciously started searching for heroines and I was thrilled the first time I saw Mary Curie's movie, or read the biography of Helen Clair, or heard about an 11th century poet, Rabiah.  I saw that there was Margaret Thatcher as the British Prime Minister but I realized that she was the only one in the regular foreign news.

Middle school was an interesting time when we got accepted to the National Organization for Developing Exceptional Talents school. There we were.  So called talented girls. And just on the other side of the city was a mirroring middle school with so called talented boys. We were sometimes evaluated with a similar test and there came another interesting pattern. Most if not all the times there was a boy with the highest score yet the average score of the girls was higher than that of the boys. We were studying logic at the time. So I though "there is a boy who is smarter than all girls".  Yet I thought it couldn't be absolute. There must be a girl somewhere in this world who is smarter than all boys and girls. Who could prove me wrong? And with the same logic I thought most men are stronger than most women but there is a woman somewhere in the world who is stronger than all men.  Who could prove me wrong?

So I pursued maths and physics in high school and I proved I could do great even though I didn't study much at all and when I set my goal to get accepted to an engineering program in the best university I could, I did.  I earned acceptance to even better programs too but my dad didn't allow me go because they were in another city, which is beside the point here.  University was another challenge of its own with 50+ boys and only 2 girls in my major.  I continued studying as little as possible and did fine.  I knew I needed to win the battle of boys and girls and I did so by differentiating myself through knowing a foreign language very well and excelling in computational mechanics. And so I did. Then I pursued my master's degree in a foreign university in computational dynamics and I felt happy and accomplished.

Years passed and I became a mother of a sweet smart mischievous little boy.  Life was fair and square until the day my son started public school. Little by little phrases such as "this movie is for girls" or "this color is girly" entered his communication.  I was happy to see that most children books, at least the ones I read with my son, were unbiased about boys and girls and men and women until Annie and Jack, the main characters of the chapter book series xxx he was reading, went back in time to Athene to watch the Olympics and Annie was forbidden from entering the stadium on the account that she was a girl.  And I thought "it began". For him too.

I haven't stopped but wonder, what if the history was never recited to this generation, would there still be gender biases?

A Late Mocha

There was the sound of music coming from one of the neighboring shops.  She was listening to the tone of it, warm, lovely even, passionate perhaps.  She wanted to memorize the lyrics but her mind was not cooperating. He was late and that was all she had her mind on.  It was no surprise; he was late many times before. Yet she couldn't tolerate him being late.  She knew the tiny little time they had with each other, they could have with each other, would be cut even shorter now.  She looked at her watch. The white band was fading. How old was this watch?  Four years? She remembered that she asked for a black watch with a rectangular face when she was asked what she desired for Mother's Day and she got a white watch with a round face.  He smiles at the selection back then she remembered. Now he was late.

The song had changed, the new guy's voice was not as warm anymore.

Her tea was totally cold now. Bitter. Cold.

She looked around; she had already read all the posted ads on the walls around her and names on the shops and even entertained herself by focusing on the fonts each store had chosen to display its name.  She turned on her iPhone. Browsed her Facebook page one more time. There was no update since two minutes ago.  She opened flipboard but thought she had no desire to read about all the miseries in the world at that time. Locked it again. He was late.

The music was completely faded now amid the street noises.  It was a humid afternoon and it felt like with every honking car more humidity was added to the layers of air around her.  She started fanning herself with her fingers to get rid of some of that air.  He was late.

She looked at the end of the street again. There he was!  Striding big steps waddling from side to side.  Eyes wide and bright and a big 'ol grin on his lips.  She giggled like a child but didn't move.  He sat down panting: "I'm so out of shape" he said.  She frawned and smiled.  The waiter came over "Can I change your tea?" "Yes please!" She replied. "And please add a mocha to the order, no whip cream".

My Little Angel is One

A few hours ago last year this time, just past 6pm on June 24th, my little angel was born in a hospital a few blocks from home.  The drowsiness of the moment amid the purest love I ever felt is vivid in my heart. She is laying by my side right now, asleep, breathing her sweet breaths.  She has the sweetest voice when she talks her broken words and the happiest smile. My darling sweetheart! Happy First Birthday!  May you smile sweetly for many years to come!

Istanbul Trip in Pictures

Istanbul in June

Thinking about it now while nesting at home in California, walking with my mom and sister in the Fatih destrict of Istanbul on Saturday feels like a dream.  VisitingIstanbul  this June detached me completely from daily life and provided me a real break.

I enjoyed walking in the Topkapi area and grand bazaar on Thursday with all 12 of us.  We walked the old streets and visited Sultan Ahmet mosque.  We spent some time in the Grabd Bazaar before dividing into two groups, one to go back to the hotel and one to continue on walking around.  We visited some shopping areas afterward as the bazaar itself was inappropriateky expensive.  We found a couple good bargains and got stuck in a pouring rain in the middle of a local Thursdsy Bazaar with no roof and no real shops to escape the rain for a few minutes. We had to wait a long time for taxi and hunt two down for the 8 of us who stayed for shopping and got to the hotel soaking wet.

On Friday we got on a tour for some famous shopping areas including a leather shop. The leather was really soft  and the designs were stylish for a relatively inexpensive price. We separated from the tour and shopped around for ourselves. It was my sister and mom, my mother in law and sister in law, my brother, and me.  We decided to take the public transition route to go back to the hotel.  We took the tranva first and rode off at where it was supposed to be our transfer to metro to get to Taksim square where our hotel was but the transfer included a 10 minutes walk and another toll which due to lack of English speaking of the staff cost us almost twice as much.  In general and to our utmost surprise we didn't find the Turkish people much helpful or considerate this time.  The taxi drivers seemed mad, some sellers seemed offensive and hard to deal with discouraging us from doing business with. I have a theory that it might have been the June weather that got them inpatient?!

On Saturday we went to Sulaymanieh Mosque which was huge and simple but beautiful.  In general the mosques had less color compared to the Mosques in Isfahan and many other places in Iran.  Instead, the buildings were designed with so much details, generally ornamented through architecture rather than colors and mosaic.  In front of the mosque I took sight of a coffee pot which I had promised myself to buy the next time I went to Turkey.  I decided on a 4 cup pot and chose a wooden handle. I was looking at the tea collections when the shop keeper approached me, grabbed the coffee pot away from my hand and walked to the back of his shop. I was baffled and watch him to understand his next move but he just stayed there proving to me that he refused to sell.  I was shocked and even to this date I'm surprised and puzzled as to why. Is it their style of selling? Is it the hot weather that got them inpatient and mad? Is it the fact that they could tell we were Iranian? And if so why? They know Iranians have brought a huge business to their country. I decided to find an information center and get some guidance to understand if there was anything that would offend the Turkish people but it was lame hunt.

We walked in the old winding streets entangled within the modern traffics it was not built to tolerate. We got to Shazdeh Mosque in time for noon prayers.  The mosques were orderly and you could see a variety of Moslems there with variety of Islamic covers for women. It was endearing to walk.  A lady gave us sugar cubes, I took one but she opened my palm and poorer a few in my fist. She was a darling and I had no use for the . I decided to bring them to San Jose for our Sufi friends' gatherings.

We divided into two groups again and the sippers headed to the Fatih area.  It was crowded Saturday afternoon and fun to walk all the people shopping around.  There were many tourists from other Moslem countries shopping.  There were many western looking tourists too of course and I wonder if the Turks were as rude to them as they were to us. Of course not all of the Turks were rude.  I particularly found the Kurd shoppers helpful and smiling. Being smiling and showing an open face is one of the main recommendations in Islam you know.

We watched the Iran-Argentuna soccer game in the hotel restaurant that night. It was a glorious loss at the 90+ minute with a definite pentalty missed to the announced by the referry. It was sad but we tried to remain positive.

On Sunday we took a tour to Buyuk Ada or the Big Island. It was beautiful and the seabus ride there was joyful with many great conversations with brothers and sister. I really liked the Turkish icecream which we got a taste of in the island.

Sunday was the last evening we were all together and two days before little angel's first birthday. So M and I invited the family to a birthday cake ina local cafe.  Some neighboring patrons sang m Happy Birthday in Turkish. We sang the Persian version and got her blow her candle which she managed with A's help. It was a joyful and memorable birthday celebration for sure.

On the last day just before goodbyes my mom gifted me a 4 cup coffee pot.

If You Are A Muslim

Just think about it.

You are first a Muslim and then a Shiite.

You are first a Muslim and then a Sunni.

You are first a Muslim and then a Sufi.

You are first a Muslim and then a Bahaii.

You are first a Muslim and then any-other-secondary-belief-you-have.

In Islam it is forbidden to be disappointed from Merci of God.

In Islam you are called to return whoever you are, whatever you have done.

In Islam as long as you believe in God and hereafter and do good deeds you are not to worry and not to feel saddened.

In Islam, you worth the Divine.

In Islam, "whoever enters this house, give them bread and do not ask of their belief; since whomever deserves to live in the land of God for sure deserves bread in the land of Bolhasaan (you read me, you)."

In Islam it is forbidden to judge.

In Islam if a person is killed a whole nation is killed.

If you are a Muslim, be one!  Otherwise anyone can and will do crime under the name of Islam but really to gain power and resources and you have let them do so.

PS: Here is a good read:  http://www.peakprosperity.com/blog/85802/iraq-breaks-down-oil-surges?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ChrisMartensonBlogs+%28Peak+Prosperity%29&utm_content=FaceBook

SiDE

SiDE is a tiny little town close to Antalya with ruins of a Greek city and a perfect place to celebrate M's birthday.  We dined at Fiesta, a sea-view restaurant with welcoming staff. They were happy to hear we were Iranian, like many many other shops and restaurants we stopped at.  I asked my dad to find out if they would bring a cake with candles for M as soon as we stepped in. As soon as we were sitter my dad assured me that it was taken care of.

We ordered Turkish kabob and cutlet.  It took some time for them to bring the food but when they did it proved to worth the wait.  After dinner M was eager to walk back because the kids were not behaving and it took some cajoling to convince him to stay. Eventually they stopped the music and replaced with with a Turkish style Happy Birthday song and a few waiters arrived with a red cake compete with lit candles.  We all sang the song to him happy that it would be remember able birthday in a Turkish restaurant by the Meditranean sea.

Little princess got to swim some today. She seemed to really enjoy herself and afterwards she seemed to enjoy a deep nap by the poolside.

Given the list bag we shopped a few items in the hotel and also in SiDE. The quality and design of some clothing and shoes have pleasantly surprised me.  It is not inexpensive but perhaps more reasonable compared to the US considering the quality.  I feel particularly excited about polo shirts we got for M and A and also a bag and a beach bag I got.  Looking forward to some more shopping in Istanbul enshala.

Hello Antalya!

So here we are; at a resort by the Meditranean sea and reunited with my dad.  It was supposed to be a five star resort but we won't rank it higher than three. It's clean and the pool ambiance is nice but that's about it. Aside from that m developed fever during our flight and then Lufthansa didn't deliver one of the bags from Frankfurt to Istanbul and we won't receive it before Monday. This is kind of strange and unacceptable but it is what it is. So lots of energy has been spent on discussing the hotel issues, m's health situation, and  planning for replacing the items we never received in the lost bag.

It was a short night last night with frequent raises with m's wanting to be nursed.  We made it to the last hit of the breakfast service and then while everyone was relaxing by the pool I hit the gym. Really, I'm an active traveller not enjoying sun bathing much at all. We had a relaxing time under the shades overlooking the sea sipping on yogurt drinks and chatting away.

I cannot wait for my sister and brother in law to join us tonight. And thank God m's fever seems fading away, enshala.

France Vacation the Second Time

France in the shoulder season of mid June treated us well.

We travelled to Paris as a family of four this time. Baby m has undeniably slowed us down but also has added a great pleasure with her little presence; she has been a good sport for most of the time.

We got to travel outside Paris this time, visiting Rambollie, Chateau Chambord, and Chateau Chenonceau. We spent a night in Bloise which was an older city with a river and another Chateau we didn't visit.  Looking back at the memories it was a nice trip that could be more relaxing than what chance we provided it.

I haven't been letting go of things yet.  The job I left. The new job I accepted. The immediate assignments as soon as I will start enshala. Little angel's care plans. The dilemma of motherhood and professionalism.  These are the main issues bugging my mind preventing me from being in the moment.

I must say it was a huge mistake, not relaxing I mean. A repeated one too which make it even worse.  I will try to let go for the rest of the trip.

The castles we visited added new experience to our tourist selves.  Chateau Rambord was huge and dark and mysterious with many rooms and many doors and many pathways and many locked gates.

It had an interesting staircase in the middle of the main foyer where two flights of steps led to the top floors but each flight designed to not meet anywhere along the way even at landing.  It had a huge moat around it which made it even more mysterious.

Chateau Chenonceau had a very pleasant and welcoming taste to it, as contrary to the previous one.

From the entrance gate the tree shadowed pathway pleasantly greeted us. The tower and balcony facing the front garden showcased the classic depiction of a tiring castles, which I had only seen in books and movies.  There were many details considered in the interior design of the castle and the huge kitchen with many windows receiving the day light pleasantly surprised us.

It resembled a happy place as contrast to the mystery of the first one.  We heard that Chenonceau had a feminin nature which was easily conprehended.

We payed a short visit to the city of Paris today, just stopping at the Eiffel Tower and then took a walk in my favorite Qurtier Latin.  Paris never fails to please.  It was a nice short visit and I feel thankful for the opportunity.

On to New Adventures

After 7 years, I said goodbye to my current employer. In the end of the day I surrendered my badge and walked out the doors, knowing I couldn't go back anymore unless someone summoned me.

The emotional state I'm experiencing has taken me by surprise. I feel grateful and sad. People have been so kind to me. Genuinely sad to see me go and that means a lot to me. I'm grateful. Forever grateful for getting to know these amazing people and working with them. I'm leaving knowing that I'm inherited with some lasting friendships and experience.

I feel forever grateful!