Welcome to Tarçınıstan!

The Hetaira in Greece and the Devadasi in India

Astrid_Seftali — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 15:53:45 GMT

I once read a book on female archetypes, and it turned out that I belonged to the hetairas, from my personality type. So, I have enjoyed reading stories about their lives ever since, starting with Kamala in Hesse's "Siddharta", and the Egyptian priestesses in Erica Jong's "Sappho's leap", and devadasi... Anyway, here is what Wikipedia has on the Hetaira and her career, that sounds like a job that might have been a lot more interesting than the one I ended up with this time round... In ancient Greece, hetaerae (in Greek ἑταῖραι, hetairai) were courtesans, that is to say, sophisticated companions and prostitutes. In ancient Greek society, hetaerae were independent and sometimes influential women who were required to wear distinctive dresses and had to pay taxes. Composed mostly of ex-slaves and foreigners, these courtesans were renowned for their achievements in dance and music, as well as for their physical talents. There is evidence that, unlike most other women in Greek society at the time, hetaerae were educated. It is remarkable that hetaerae not only were the only women who would actively take part in the symposia, but also that their opinions and beliefs were respected by men[citation needed]. Some similarities have been found between the ancient Greek hetaera, the earlier Babylonian nadītu, the Japanese oiran, and the Korean kisaeng, complex figures that are perhaps in an intermediate position between prostitutes and entertainers. Plutarch's Life of Demetrius is our longest and most detailed surviving account of Demetrius I Poliorcetes. The biography reports that Demetrius displayed a great deal of weakness, making light of marriage by having many wives at one time and even slighting them by consorting with many freeborn women and many hetairai. Lamia, a famous early Hellenistic courtesan was his favourite. Plutarch mentions her in the context of fourteen separate anecdotes. We know that Lamia was once a member of Ptolemy I Soter's entourage and was a flute player. How she came to be a musician for Ptolemy is not known. Many women who played musical instruments in ancient Greece were involved in prostitution. There is no evidence that Lamia was reputed to be a prostitute before her involvement with Demetrius, but the hetairai involved with kings were noticeably monogamous. Polemon tells us that Lamia was the daughter of the Athenian citizen, Cleanor, and that she had built the stoa or art gallery at Sicyon as a benefaction to the people. Lamia was renowned not only for her beauty and charm, but also possessed a great wit.[1] Among the most famous were Thargelia, a renowned Ionian hetaera of ancient times,[2] Aspasia, long-time companion of the Athenian politician Pericles, Archeanassa companion of Plato, the famous Neaira, and Thaïs, a concubine of Ptolemy, general on the expedition of Alexander the Great and later king of Egypt. Hetaerae appear to have been regarded as distinct from pornê or simple prostitutes, and also distinguished from mistresses or wives. In the oration Against Neaera,[3] Demosthenes said: “We have hetaerae for pleasure, pallakae to care for our daily body’s needs and gynaekes to bear us legitimate children and to be faithful guardians of our households.” In this same oration, Demosthenes mentions that Neaira's purchase price (both at her original purchase by Timanoridas of Corinth and Eucrates of Leucas and her own subsequent purchase of her freedom) was 30 minas. Since the mina was equal to 100 drachmae and the drachma can be thought of as equivalent to the daily wage of a skilled worker, this would make her purchase price over 8 years salary—obviously beyond the means of the average person. The male form of the word, hetaeros (pl. hetaeroi), signified male companions in the sense of a business or political associate. Most famously, it referred to Alexander the Great's bodyguard cavalry unit (see Companion cavalry). In Jungian psychology, the hetaere is one of Toni Wolff's four feminine archetypes. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hetaira And then, there is the Devadasi, in classical India, and devadasi is also the name of the school where I do bellydance.... Devadasi (देवदासी) originally described a Hindu religious practice in which girls were "married" and dedicated to a deity (deva or devi), although in practice, they are also subject to providing sexual favours to the clergy. In addition to taking care of the temple and performing rituals, they learned and practiced Bharatanatyam and other classical Indian arts traditions and enjoyed a high social status. Following the demise of the great Hindu kingdoms the practice degenerated. Pressure from the colonial "reform" movement led to suppression of the practice. Adherents of this movement considered devadasis immoral since they engaged in sex outside of the traditional concept of marriage, and described them as prostitutes. As a result of these social changes, devadasis were left without their traditional means of support and patronage. Colonial views on devadasis are hotly disputed by several groups and organizations in India and by western academics.[1][2][3][4] The high regard with which they were previously held has deteriorated in recent years due to their association with prostitution, and the practice has started to disappear.[5] Devadasis are also known by various other local terms. They are sometimes referred to as a caste; however, some question the accuracy of this usage. "According to the devadasis themselves there exists a devadasi 'way of life' or 'professional ethic' (vritti, murai) but not a devadasi jāti (sub-caste). Later, the office of devadasi became hereditary but it did not confer the right to work without adequate qualification" (Amrit Srinivasan, 1985). In Europe the term Bayadere (from French: bayadère, ascending to Portuguese: Balliadera, literally dancer) was occasionally used.[10] The devadasi practices have changed considerably over the last centuries. Amrit Srinivasan has described devadasi practices in Tamilnadu: Traditionally the young devadasi underwent a ceremony of dedication to the deity of the local temple which resembled in its ritual structure the upper caste Tamil marriage ceremony. Following this ceremony, she was set apart from her non-dedicated sisters in that she was not permitted to marry and her celibate or unmarried status was legal in customary terms. Significantly, however she was not prevented from leading a normal life involving sex with individuals of her choice and childbearing. The very rituals which marked and confirmed her incorporation into temple service also committed her to the rigorous emotional and physical training in the classical dance, her hereditary profession. In addition, they served to advertise in a perfectly open and public manner her availability for sexual liaisons with a proper patron and protector. Very often in fact, the costs of temple dedication were met by a man who wished thus to anticipate a particular devadasi's favours after she had attained puberty. It was crucially a women's 'dedicated' status which made it a symbol of social prestige and privilege to maintain her. The devadasi's sexual partner was always chosen by 'arrangement' with her mother and grandmother acting as prime movers in the veto system. Alliance with a Muslim, a Christian, or a lower caste was forbidden while a Brahmin or member of the royal elite was preferred for the good breeding and/or wealth he would bring into the family. The non-domestic nature of the contract was an understood part of the agreement with the devadasi owing the man neither any householding services nor her offspring. The children in turn could not hope to make any legal claim on the ancestral property of their father whom they met largely in their mother's home when he came to visit. In the sadanku or puberty ceremonies, the devadasi-initiate consummates her marriage with an emblem of the god borrowed from the temple as a stand-in 'bridegroom'. From then onward, the devadasi is considered a nitya sumangali: a woman eternally free from the adversity of widowhood. She would then perform her ritual and artistic duties in the temple. The puberty ceremonies were an occasion not only for temple honor, but also for community feasting and celebration in which the local elites also participated. The music and dance and public display of the girl also helped to attract patrons. [edit] Life after dedication A devadasi's life after dedication was obviously very different centuries ago. Nowadays After dedication of a girl to the temple, she has to take bath every day early in the morning and should present herself at the temple during morning worship of Yellamma. She is not allowed to enter the sanctum sanctorum. But she will bow to the deity from outside. Thereafter she sweeps compound of the temple. Every Tuesday and Friday she goes for yoga along with senior jogatis (yoga teachers). During this period she learns innumerable songs in praise of Yellamma and her son Parashurama. If she shows some aptitude to learn playing instruments she will be given training by her elder jogatis. In Yellampura and other villages Devadasis do not dance but this is performed by eunuch companions. The main functions of Devadasis would be singing and playing stringed musical instruments and Jagate. They form a small group and go for joga, from house to house on every Tuesday and Friday (Jogan Shankar, 1990). Traditionally, no stigma was attached to the devadasi or to her children, and other members of their caste received them on terms of equality. The children of a devadasi enjoyed legitimacy and devadasis themselves were outwardly indistinguishable from married women of their own community. Furthermore, a devadasi was believed to be immune from widowhood and was called akhanda saubhagyavati. Since she was wedded to a divine deity, she was supposed to be one of the especially welcome guests at weddings, and was regarded as bearer of fortune. At weddings, people would get a string of the tali (wedding lock) prepared by her and she threaded on it a few beads from her own necklace. The presence of a devadasi on any religious occasion in the house of an upper caste member was regarded as sacred and she was treated with due respect and was presented with gifts. Devadasis are the people who nurtured the arts - Dance and Music to the perfect levels of today. They were torch bearers of these arts through out the history of India under various rulers, yet passed on the legacies till end of 19th century. After that period, all upward class people started learning these arts and took away these people's only way of earn-to-live. from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devadasi

2nd quote of the day

Astrid_Seftali — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 07:50:29 GMT

If Scheherazade had bellydanced for the Sultan on their first night, he would have killed her in the morning. Fatima Mernissi, Moroccan feminist

Quote of the day

Astrid_Seftali — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 03:05:45 GMT

"Throw out Mom's old advice about how an air of mystery keeps the flame alive: Orbuch's research showed that 98 percent of happy couples say they intimately understand their partners." Hahahahahahahahaha! ; ) from: 4 Secrets to a Spectacular Relationship (redbook/yahoo)

World Heritage Sites

Astrid_Seftali — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 15:50:28 GMT

I found out by ticking through the new list on mosttraveledpeople.com that I have visited 35 World heritage Sites. I had no idea! Once they have created the map I will post it here. For now there is this link of which I don't know if it works if you are not signed in but you could sign up and find out...: http://mosttraveledpeople.com/My-WHS.cfm

Quote of the day

Astrid_Seftali — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 16:24:43 GMT

Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves for they will never cease to be amused.

Canela's comfort food for her friends ; )

Astrid_Seftali — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 14:45:57 GMT

Today I visited the sweetest of my friends, my Russian friend Stella from Moscow. She was with her (ex?) English boyfriend who is leaving the country soon and claims to have a job offer in Saudi Arabia... So I arrived with persimmons and a pomegranate and such in my bag because I had promised to cook for Stella and I am at my very best as a chef when I make something Arabic. The following recipes is an improvised one, drawn from my experiences of cooking Fesenjan (Persian pomegranate chicken and walnut stew), Moroccan lamb with apricots, Moroccan chicken with prunes, done without a cookbook for the first time. It was a success! You need: 700-800 grams of chicken, either breast or legs, without bones 1 medium sized onion 1 persimmon 1/2 pomegranate about 6-8 dried apricots 3-4 tea spoons of cinnamon white or black pepper (we had only black though I wanted white) red pepper cayenne pepper salt olive oil 1/2 bundle of parsley 1 small bag of chopped almonds (baking ingredients!) or blanche, peel and chop half a cup of almonds Remove the fatty skin from the chicken, cut it into large cubes cut the onion into very small cubes (2mm wide) remove the seends from the pomegranate and keep in a bowl cut the persimmon into quarters and each quarter cut twice again (into 12/12), no need to peel chop the parsley into small bits wash the apricots Heat the oil in a sauce pan, add onion and and almonds and one tea spoon of cinnamon and sautee on medium heat add the chicken pieces, salt, sautee on all sides add the 3 kinds of pepper (mostly black/white pepper, some red pepper, a little cayenne) add persimmons, lower heat to small, stir and cook slowly add apricots add pomegranate, another tea spoon of cinnamon, stir, cook slowly if necessary, add small amount of water, esp. if the persimmons are hard rather than juicy add more cinnamon and adjust taste with pepper if necessary when the persimmons are soft and the meat is done, add parsley, stir, cook a few more minutes. Turn off heat and let the stew sit for another 15 or 20 minutes. This will thicken the juices and intensify the taste. Meanwhile prepare a salad from cubed tomatoes and cucumber, chopped onion, the rest of the parsley and the other half of the pomegranate, drizzle with olive oil and vinegar, or with fresh lemon juice Serve with couscous, bulgur or brown rice. Bon appetit! Stella said, she had been on a raw food diet recently, but this stew did not feel heavy, because of the spices. I felt the warmth slowly spreading over my body, from my stomach. It is the cinnamon and the pepper than warms you. And the onion, nut and pomegranate sauce (Fesenjan is done with walnuts, but the almonds worked too) is something that creates a subtle sense of euphoria, in my experience. Enjoy!

...and he thought, he was trashing me, ha! ; )

Astrid_Seftali — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 10:01:25 GMT

The other day I found a comment on my youtube video of my Turkish floor show. It came from an 34 year old Arab male in Algeria and read: "hehhehhheh leya alwi la pute egyptienne" which means, if I interprete google's translation of "leya alwi" into "I awareness" correctly:: "Heheheh, I know that Egyptian whore!" Now is that a compliment to a German bellydancer in training, trying to look a bit like a Turk? Maybe I should add that to my avatar for a while, "Canela, la pute egyptienne". What do you think? ; )

The Mother of Creation - the myth of Eurynome

Astrid_Seftali — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 07:19:33 GMT

Last night I was given the task to dance the Goddess of Eurynome, during bellydance class. I had pulled her card from a goddess deck. So here is her story: Eurynome's Creation Myth Eurynome was easily the most important Goddess of Pelasgian myth. She was the Great Goddess, Mother, Creatrix, Ruler, called the Goddess of All Things. Eurynome was born from Chaos, and her first work was to separate the water from the sky. When she had accomplished this, she began to dance across the water. It was a beautiful, sensual dance of creation. As she danced, she danced South, and faster and faster she danced until a wind grew behind her. Eurynome caught this new thing, this wind, between her hands and rubbed it into a snake. The snake, called Ophion, watched as the Goddess danced and danced to keep herself warm. He saw Eurynome dancing across the waves and was filled with lust. He coiled his body around the Goddess seven times and made love to her as she danced. Impregnated by Ophion, soon the Goddess lay the Universal Egg. Ophion wrapped his body around it seven times at Eurynome's bidding. As it opened, the earth spilled forth, born populated with animals and plants. At this point the Mother ascended to Mt. Olympus and began to watch her children take shape. When she ascended, the serpent Ophion followed her as the Goddess's consort. Eurynome had no problem with this, but when Ophion began to swagger and boast that he alone was responsible for the creation of the world, Eurynome kicked all his teeth out as she threw his butt out of heaven. The next thing Eurynome did was very interesting, and involves other mythology you might know about. She created the Seven Planetary Powers, putting a Titaness and a Titan over each. Theia and Hyperion were given the Sun and the power of illumination; Phoebe and Atlas were given the Moon and the power of enchantment; Dione and Crius were given the planet Mars and the power of growth; Metis and Coeus were given the planet Mercury and the power of wisdom; Themis and Eurymedon were given the planet Jupiter and the power of law; Tethys and Oceanus were given the planet Venus and the power of love; and Rhea and Cronus took the planet Saturn with the power of peace. If you look at each of the assignments, you'll find they match perfectly. The first person was a different story. In this tradition, the first human was the man Pelasgus who sprang from the soil of Arcadia (soon followed by others). They made little huts and ate acorns and wore pig-skin tunics. That's all the STORY about her, but now for the explanations. These myths are ancient ancient myths if they are even real. Back then, according to the theory of a matriarchal prehistory, there were no Gods or priests, only one mother Goddess and her priestesses. Part of the reason for this was that fatherhood was not clearly understood. People believed that women could be impregnated by the wind (like in the story) or eating something funny. Obviously, inheritance was matrilineal. Eurynome was only one of the Goddess's names. Eurynome, "wide wandering," refers to her as the moon traveling across the sky, by the Sumerians she was called the "exalted dove," or, Iahu. The Eurynome cult spread all over the Mediterranean and was really a base for most of the religions of the area. In the Titan cults that preceeded the Olympic cults (Classical mythology), Eurynome was the daughter of Oceanus the Titan. She was a Titaness married to the Titan Ophion. But in this version, though Eurynome still ruled heaven, Ophion ruled as an equal. The two ruled together on Mt. Olympus until Cronos replaced Ophion and Rhea replaced Eurynome. By the time Classical mythology came around, Eurynome had shrunk to being one of Zeus' many loves (mother of the Charites) and a gentle Oceanid. A far cry from the All-Powerful Creatrix she was once worshipped as. from: http://www.paleothea.com/Myths/Eurynome.html

Who was this? Anyway, congratulations...

Astrid_Seftali — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 17:55:31 GMT

I just got my 5000th profile view. If this was anyone I know, I would like to congratulate you. Or somethin'. How do you celebrate this? ; )

quote of the day

Astrid_Seftali — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 01:46:41 GMT

"I would hate to be in one of your classes - I've come to see you as a sanctimonious (and sometimes ridiculous) closed minded academic rather than a teacher or even just an inquiring mind.(...) If you were half as smart as you thought you were, you might have half the merit of the many people you seem to despise and certainly (often subtly) put down so often in this, and other, tribes. "

Quote of the day!

Astrid_Seftali — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 04:07:16 GMT

"I've felt worse about my writing than I ever have about sex for money." Dr. Brooke Magnanti (see blogged article below)

A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do- Kudos to Dr. Brooke Magnanti the former call-girl!

Astrid_Seftali — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 04:04:41 GMT

Research scientist Dr Brooke Magnanti announces she is author of mysterious call girl blog and says she has no regrets about working as prostitute Paul Gallagher and Peter Walker guardian.co.uk, Sunday 15 November 2009 11.14 GMT Article history Dr Brooke Magnanti. Photograph: SWNS.COM One of the best kept literary secrets of the decade was revealed last night when a 34-year-old research scientist, Dr Brooke Magnanti, announced she was the writer better known as call girl Belle de Jour. The author behind the blog turned bestselling series of books detailing her secret life as a prostitute decided to come out to one of her fiercest critics, the Sunday Times columnist India Knight, after claiming anonymity had become "no fun". "I couldn't even go to my own book launch party," she said. It does appear, however, that Magnanti's hand was forced after a former boyfriend appeared set to reveal her secret: Knight's interview with her today refers to "an ex-boyfriend with a big mouth lurking in the background". Until last week, even her agent was unaware of her name. But now Magnanti, a respected specialist in developmental neurotoxicology and cancer epidemiology in a hospital research group in Bristol, has spoken of the time six years ago she worked as a £300-an-hour prostitute working through a London escort agency. Magnanti turned to the agency in the final stages of her PhD thesis when she ran out of money. She was already an experienced science blogger and began writing about her experiences in a web diary later adapted into books and a television drama starring Billie Piper. Magnanti says she has no regrets about the 14 months she spent as a prostitute. "I've felt worse about my writing than I ever have about sex for money," she said. A month ago she revealed her secret to her colleagues at the Bristol Initiative for Research of Child Health, who were "amazingly kind and supportive". She was preparing to tell her parents this weekend. Unlike some bloggers who achieve notoriety, Magnanti managed to protect her identity so completely that a series of professional writers were linked with the character, among them Rowan Pelling, former editor of the Erotic Review and – perhaps less plausibly – the journalist Toby Young. Magnanti today defended herself against the notion that she risked glamorising prostitution, a charge levelled by John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York, last month. Magnanti told Knight she was "entitled to speak about it, or write about it, as I lived it". She continued: "Some sex workers have terrible experiences. I didn't. I was unbelievably fortunate in every respect. The people at the agency looked after us appropriately and instructed us appropriately and weren't going to put us in harm's way if they could possibly avoid it." Magnanti said she was working on a doctoral study for the department of forensic pathology of Sheffield University in 2003 when she began her secret life. "I was getting ready to submit my thesis. I saved up a bit of money. I thought, I'll just move to London, because that's where the jobs are, and I'll see what happens. "I couldn't find a professional job in my chosen field because I didn't have my PhD yet. I didn't have a lot of spare time on my hands because I was still making corrections and preparing for the viva and I got through my savings a lot faster than I thought I would." Unable to pay her rent, Magnanti's mind turned to other things. She told the Sunday Times she wanted to start doing something straight away, "that doesn't require a great deal of training or investment to get started, that's cash in hand and that leaves me spare time to do my work in". Her solution was prostitution. "I did have another job at one point, as a computer programmer, but I kept up with my other work because it was so much more enjoyable." The Belle de Jour blog remains current, despite Magnanti's long absence from prostitution. In a post dated today, she wrote that "a perfect storm of feelings and circumstances" had drawn her out of anonymity, adding: "And do you know what? It feels so much better on this side. Not to have to tell lies, hide things from the people I care about. To be able to defend what my experience of sex work is like to all the sceptics and doubters." While the revelation was unexpected, at least one Sunday Times reader claimed, in a comment on the newspaper's website, that it made perfect sense: "Given the state of funding in biomedical research, the low pay and poor career prospects in the UK and Europe, it's hardly surprising and she's probably not the only one."

Love compared - by Nizar Qabbani

Astrid_Seftali — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 16:30:36 GMT

I do not resemble your other lovers, my lady should another give you a cloud I give you rain Should he give you a lantern, I will give you the moon Should he give you a branch I will give you the trees And if another gives you a ship I shall give you the journey.

She walks in beauty like the night

Astrid_Seftali — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 15:56:10 GMT

She Walks in Beauty by George Gordon Byron She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

Fed up with your raw detox diet? Here comes the stir fried fruit salad!

Astrid_Seftali — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 07:33:49 GMT

Today it was kind of cold outside and I felt like I could not face another apple, raw carrot or banana for lunch, I craved something warming and comforting. So here is what I did, in my usual forceful style: being a cosmopolitan, irreverent chef who is self trained in Oriental cuisine I came up with the following solution how to make a cooling food into a warming food: you use 1 small red apple 1 banana 1 onion 3-4 tea spoons of chili powder some ginger powder some turmeric 1 dried chili pepper 1 table spoon honey by choice add two tbl spoons of chopped chicken breast, sausage or bacon orange flower water (neroli) 1 tbl spoon olive oil parsley (dried or chopped) Chop everything, heat the oil in a wok or fry pan, stir fry fruit and onion, add meat if you chose to use it, add curry and other spices, add neroli, stir, add the chopped chili pepper, add the honey, stir, let it cook for a few more minutes, add parsley, stir- finished! Turns your fruit salad into something that looks like lunch!

How do you outwit dumb new technical gadgets?

Astrid_Seftali — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 19:02:27 GMT

My new netbook has a Veriface function. That means if I close the cover or the battery is empty and it goes into standby, it will save my work and try to protect my privacy. From me, that is. The next time I open it, the computer looks at me and checks whether I am me or somebody else, with the help of the new "VeriFace"-software. My new netbook has a webcam, and this opens when I reopen it and checks whether it is the same person looking at the screen. If the background is different, or maybe I wear something else or whatever, it decides that it has to protect my privacy from me and won't let me access what I have been working on. Instead, I can try to shut down the computer to turn off verface, but then it will tell me:"Other people are logged onto this computer who may loose their work if you shut it down now." Now, is this progress or what? Duh!

quote of the day

Astrid_Seftali — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 08:17:11 GMT

Being grumpy or depressed goes hand in hand with thinking. When you're continually happy you can just skim along on the surface of life and not examine anything too deeply. Which is cause and which is effect, I don't know. (the pic is a Tokyo subway manner poster that says "Do it at home!" ; )

Am I an addict?

Astrid_Seftali — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 14:08:32 GMT

Today I sat on a wall on the sidewalk in Shibuya, in front of the electronics shop, with my netbook on my lap, testing the reception for the wireless network. Is this crazy or just practical? I felt pretty weird but could not help it.

Yay, I am back online!

Astrid_Seftali — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 18:15:00 GMT

Look at this baby, my brandnew wireless netbook, a lenovo idea pad, and all pink, heeeeh! Isn't he cute? 10 inch screen, weighs 1,2kg/ less than 3 pounds. I put a glass of orange juice next to it, so you can see how small and cute he is. And now I can write in a cafe or whereever the muse strikes me. May be time for that book now...

I am a computer victim!

Astrid_Seftali — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 10:59:59 GMT

I have just been told that the computer wiz at work has now "used another Vista to look at the compressed backup of my Vista" and has stuck my new hard disk into a different computer on his desk that has four keyboards and a bunch of cables and other computers and empty shells etc. on it. To actually rebuild my system is going to take another week. I have a headache from listening to a 45 minute lecture in Japanese by his co-wiz on what the technical problem is... Argh! What I gathered is the following: years ago Microsoft lost a case against Symantec Ghost about the patent of a backup program. Ghost had it first and that is why Microsoft is only allowed to install one useless little backup program into Vista that makes total one-click backups into another drive but they cannot be put back into the C-drive like that. There is some exception in which case you can use the backup but this is not my case, I forgot why, anyway, apparently, everybody knows this except me, and that is why they are all using other programs for backups in this office, like Ghost, and I am the rare idiot who attempted to do this with the help of Windows itself, and so the mess I am in never happens to them. Uhuh... Anyway, you need three hard disks to revive my computer, and I should possibly buy a second external hard disk to save my extracted files somehwere... or something like that. So what they are gonna do is make a partition, put the entire backup into D, after installing Windows Vista again into C, and then delete the backup of Vista and all my software in D because it is useless garbage now, and then I have to reinstall all my software, and they will teach me next week how to use ..."real think"? to backup just my data and not thewhole thing so I won't have this mess happen again. Also, I should save my data by detour on D in future, instead of cluttering up C, even though Windows is not really made for this, it puts everything automatically into C and then if anything happens you have one garbled glob of mess in your C drive, and the backup made by Vista itrself can only be used in part beause it backs up all of C but cannot put it back into C when you need it after a crash because Microsoft lost the case against Ghost......"But even if you can retrieve just 5GB of the 150GB you backed up you should already be happy", they told me, and therefore that other software by Windows makes sense somehow even if nobody uses it. All because of the patent problem. This is what I understood from his Japanese... argh!

True kindness

Astrid_Seftali — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 14:08:37 GMT

Today I received a parcel in the mail. It is the lavender coloured Indian silk blouse, the one that I am wearing on my avatar, during the camel tour in the Thar desert of Rajasthan. After I returned to Tokyo, I wrote a thank you-mail to Lois Mason, the owner of the Desert Moon Guesthouse in Jaisalmer. (www.desertmoonguesthouse.com) and mentioned that my silk blouse did not seem to be in my suitcase and could it be that her dhobi-man (the laundry person) forgot to return it from the wash? She went looking for it and wrote back, no, it was not there. But where did I stay next after Jaisalmer? Could I send her the name of the hotel, she would call them and find out if I forgot it in the next place, maybe. So I sent her the phone number of the beautiful Ratan Vilas hotel in Jodhpur which also has a very kind manager, and she called them twice, reminding them to search for it and then she sent me another mail, saying that she had good news finally, that indeed, they found it! And that she had told them to send it to her so that she could ship it to Japan for me.... Ratan Vilas promised that the next time someone of their staff made a trip to Jaisalmer (5 hours drive away from there on mostly desert roads) they would give him the blouse and have it delivered to Desert Moon into Lois' hands. After 2-3 weeks someone finally did travel over there through the desert and Lois sent me another mail that she had it and would post it. Meanwhile, I told a friend who went to India yesterday all about Desert Moon and it's wonderful, kind and thoughtful owner and started arranging for Rajasthani/kalbeliya dance lessons for her which Lois offered to have held on her roof, with a dancer provided by Jaisalmer's culture center. And then another mail came, with Lois saying that she had finally made it to the post office and sent the blouse by speed post and now it is here! Back with me, after an odyssee through the Thar desert, city to city, retrieved from oblivion. I am touched when I look at it. My kathak teacher was enchanted when I told her this story and asked me for the address of Desert Moon, and said, this is a happening that is unheard of in India! Thank you so much, Lois, I owe you one! I hope, everyone who thinks about going to Jaisalmer will find this on the net.

arm chair travel part 2, Iraq...

Astrid_Seftali — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 00:01:25 GMT

quote from "Bad Lands" by Tony Wheeler, on Bagdad: "Another piece of Saddam-era artwork that I'd quite look foward to seeing in some future museum also fell to American destructive urges. On this occasion a group of soldiers demolished the famed mosaic portrait of George Bush Senior that visitors to the Al-Rashid Hotel walked over as they entered the lobby."

arm chair travel

Astrid_Seftali — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 16:51:44 GMT

So I am finally experiencing the real thrill of arm chair traveling. Reading "Bad Lands" by Tony Wheeler of Lonely planet, my breath stopped for a moment when he described, in the chapter on Iraq, how he decided to enter it. Take a plane to Istanbul, hang out at Kadikoy harbour, then take a plane from Sabina Gokcen airport (was there myself this September) to Diyarbakir (this is when I stopped breathing) and as soon as he left the airport, he was surrounded by taxi drivers who kept asking him:"Want to go to Iraq? Want to go to Iraq?" Wow! So, experiencing the delicious chill of sitting safely in my chair, I followed him in the description of his adventures starting from there. He had decided, in 2006 (4 months or so before I landed in Turkey for the first time) that the "safe" part of Iraq for traveling was- Kurdistan! And took the taxi from Diyarbakir to Kirkuk...and I share his feeling of doing crazy things like visiting museums and buying kebab while sort of wondering what on earth one is doing here, other than satisfying some mad urge to enter the unknown, just breaking out of the normal, usual everyday world into the thrillof something brandnew and therefore, much more interesting...Something one must see sooner or later while there is still time. The other book I am reading is "Lonely planet guide to Lebanon and Syria". So far, I understand that Lebanon sounds a lot more pleasant and easier on lone women than Syria. No hijab, no jellabas, no off-limit all men coffeeshops...women in Beirut wearing skimpy sun dresses and lots of make up, tehre are plenty of night clubs in Beirut to go dancing etc., it seems...on the other hand, Lebanon is just as expensive as North America, it says, and this is a real bummer. So, Lebanon sounds like fun, adn you just have to keep checking on the political situation because tehre is always a chance that you will be surprised by dropping bombs...But transport sounds really iffy, outside the major cities...Uhuh...And then there are all these chapters on trekking and hiking and mountain climbing and advice which mountain boots to pack... Syria, on the other hand, seems very safe crime-wise. It says, people do not steal there. Wow! Now that is a new one in the Middle East. the only Mediterranean country I know where people don't steal is Greece, I never knew about Syria. It also says, Syria has good transport, people are really nice and friendly (apart from the heavy restrictions for women bit), and it is rather cheap, apparently. And Damascus seems to be the oldest city on earth... I have a feeling, I will got there sooner or later. Last but not least I am running the tribe for a Damascene poet who also lived in Beirut, Nizar Qabbani. I have already finished "In Arabian nights" and Lonely Planet Morocco is sitting in my shelf too... But as far as Babylon, Kirkuk and Tabriz are concerned, I think I will stick to arm chair traveling for now. And this is real hair raising fun, I have just discovered!

shipwrecked agAIN!!!

Astrid_Seftali — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 09:29:21 GMT

I think, my motherboard went belly-up again. Bear with me. I will still try to drop in during work or at the internet cafe when the need gets the better of me. Hopefully, in one or two weeks, Dell will have it fixed. The second time on my extended 3 year warranty, can you believe it. Gawd, I hate Dell!

Learning to ride the carpet...

Astrid_Seftali — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 16:37:35 GMT

Tonight I was reading "In Arabian Nights" at Segafredo cafe when I saw Momo walk in. Momo, that is, as I assume, Si Mohammed, the "most beautiful of all footballers" as I call him in my mind, a Moroccan soccer pro from Paris who lives near my station. The first time I spotted him, years ago, my jaw dropped, he was sooo breathtakingly handsome. Ever since he has been known among my girlriends from my tales as "the most beautiful of all footballers". Meanwhile, he has aged a small number of years, is no longer playing professionally but rather teaching and managing soccer, and we have become friends. I know most of his Moroccan friends from other places, we sometimes talk over coffee and he likes the books I read. Since I was there with "L'elegance du herisson" he always asks what book I am reading. Sometimes it is an Arabic one. Once he even asked if I could think up a movie script for him, to do with Dodi and the Princess. So, today he walked in, without any of his friends, smiled at me and sat down at a table at a little distance. When I left, I walked over and said:"Look what I am reading now!" and handed him a book that had an image of a blue Moroccan house on it's cover. He turned it over, opened it, leafed through it and said:"But this is not...? Who wrote this?" "Yes, it is not Arabian nights, it is called 'IN Arabian nights' and the author is Persian. He writes about his life in Casablanca where he moved with his Indian wife. It is very interesting. For exemple, he writes about how his servants are always complaining that there are Jinns in his house..." "What??", said Momo. "Jinns-, you know, ghosts.." I went on, and told him the story. "Where do you find these books?", he said. "Oh...this one I found at..." ,and I named a large bookstore 45 minutes away from where we were. "Hm..." he said. "I will give it to you when I have finished it!" I offered generously. This was not what I had been meaning to do with the book but who would be better off with my book as a gift than the beautiful Momo who is Moroccan himself even if he does not live there? Then I started telling him about Rajasthan. "I have been to Rajasthan this summer", I said, "I have learned how to veil myself and how to wrap a turban and ride a camel through the desert..." "Where is that?" he said. "North of India. I went to Delhi and took a plane to Jodhpur and from there a bus 5 hours into the desert, near the Pakistani border, and 5 hours back and then I traveled around the whole country on 5 hour bus rides, by myself." "I am not gonna go. Weren't you scared?" "Yes, I was, but there was this dancer I wanted to see, he lives in Jaisalmer..." "A dancer? He is a man?" he asked. "Yes, a gypsy" I explained and smiled. "Yes, of course I was scared but I wanted to go, so what I did was I told all my friends that I am going to go to Rajasthan and aren't I great and so on, so I would not be able to chicken out without embarrassing myself. I tricked myself!" He seemed to understand that. "But it was good for me, now I feel stronger, so next time I wanna go to a more dangerous country, I want to go to Morocco. Maybe I'll take the bus from Tangier to Marrakech...!" I said dramatically, pronouncing the Moroccan city names with a French accent. Momo softly shook his head. "Morocco is nothing", he said. "It is not dangerous. As long as you don't go to any strange places like the Souk and such. If you go there, they will steal from you and that's it." "You know what I'll do? When I was in Rajasthan, I sometimes put a scarf over my head and.." I made a movement like I was veiling my face, "And then everybody backed off. It was so easy! Just this" I made another movement of drawing a veil over my face "...and -peace! I am gonna do the same in Morocco. " He gave me a long look into my eyes. "They were Muslims." he said slowly and firmly. "Yes, they were Muslims." Then I went on to tell him that Rajasthan means "the country of kings", that the Rajputs lived there, I drew long curved lines into the air, dramatically outlining the scimitars and swords they were carrying, and that Rajasthan is full of palaces, the Palace of the Winds in Jaipur, and Mehrangarh Fort Castle where you can walk through and every hall you enter holds another miracle and when you walk over the theshold they play a song for you, there is the man with his flute sitting on the door step... "Do you come here often?" Momo said, as though he did not know that. "Next time when you come, we will sit over there again, together, and you will tell me more..." I want to become a storyteller. All these Arabian and Persian stories are inspiring me and looking into Momo's dark eyes and the chiseled nose and his flawlessly clear Kabyle-white skin inspire me to talk in more colourful and dramatic ways...I want to draw more pictures in the air and build castles in the wind, creating treasures out of fantasies and memories, taking listeners' minds on a journey... All a storyteller needs is memories and a good muse. ; )