Antigua: The Door Collection

Antigua is a beautiful, colonial city nestled in the central highlands of Guatemala, in the shadow of the beautiful Volcán de Agua.  The city was founded in 1543 by the Spanish, who came to colonize most of Central America until 1773.  That means the Spanish were ruling Central America from the time Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel and Copernicus was suggesting that the Sun is really the center of the universe ... until the time the United States of America was founded.

Dublin: The Door Collection

You're in for a treat.  This might be my favorite door collection to date.  Dublin is full of incredible entries!  This warm-spirited, friendly and ancient-looking city will draw you in with coziness at every turn.

On the Front Lines: Changing Minds Proves More Challenging than Changing Borders & Administrations

As I read through Geraldine Brooks' Nine Parts of Desire: The Hidden World of Islamic Women, I am continuously surprised by the riveting, intimate stories of women whom I imagine are just like me in many ways. And women whom I imagine could be good friends of mine. Women who are strong and beautiful, driven and courageous.  And yet, while some of my greatest struggles are in proving the worthiness of my ideas and concepts, turning these into a profitable business that will provide for my living, these young women are often struggling to prove that they themselves are worthy of simply living as individuals with a brain and will.

This post is in honor of International Women's Day.

Jenny Matthews/Panos

As I continue to seek out transitional environments -- traveling to observe first-hand when I can; reading and interviewing about them when I can't -- I continue to find evidence that laws and constitutions and job titles and borders are not the biggest challenge facing those who seek progress.

Deeply ingrained cultural ideas and traditions are much, much more difficult to challenge.


The following excerpts from Brooks' Nine Parts of Desire reflect her experiences during six years in the Middle East as a foreign correspondent for the Wall Street Journal.  In this story out of northern Africa, we watch women fight and prove their physical equality and strength of character, then return home only to fight again -- this time against oppressive cultural traditions.  Like so many of the transitional regions I've lived in, the story of Eritrea reveals that cultural and ideological walls are much more difficult to break down than walls of brick and mortar.

Theories of Human Nature & Management

"As there is a degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in human nature which justify a certain portion of esteem and confidence." 
- James Madison, Federalist Paper No. 55

With these words Mr. Madison was way ahead of his time.
I've lately been enchanted with Sumantra Ghoshal's 2005 paper "Bad Management Theories are Destroying Good Management Practices."  It is most intriguing not as a management manifesto, but rather as a philosophical treatise on the evolution of predominant theories of human nature in recent generations.

Ghoshal takes us through step by step: From Milton Friedman's (1962) identification of the "negative problem" (i.e. social science has focused too much on enabling good people to do good; it has neglected to address that man is imperfect and can be harmful and opportunistic) to Martin Seligman's (2003) introduction of "positive psychology" (i.e. we should focus as much on strengths and ability to do good as we do on our weaknesses and vices), we see a tipping of Madison's balanced view from one extreme to another.  

Buddhism 101

I was able to start asking my first round of questions on Buddhism yesterday when a conversation with the festival sponsor and former monk of 19 years, Ngawang Dorje, turned into a veritable lesson on the basics of Buddhist philosophy. He's the first one I've met who speaks English well enough to explain any of it. Here's what I've learned:

Everyone is trapped in samsara, cycling through birth and rebirth in this world of suffering. There are six realms in samsara, represented by the universal mantra Om Ma Ni Ped Me Hum.  Humanity is a being's highest attainment in samsara because only humans are capable of saving themselves from this cycle by entering nirvana through enlightenment - achieved only through Buddhist practice and mediation. However humans are vulnerable to four major sufferings: hunger, sickness, dying, and death. Below humans, in the second realm, are gods, who may not attain enlightenment and who do not suffer until death. However their death is a great suffering.  Ngawang Dorje describes these gods feeling and smelling their bodies rotting and they are given no comfort from other gods they may have called friends - the gods' relationships are very shallow and based on looks. The third realm is that of the semi-gods. Their major suffering is that they are constantly fighting with the gods but, as demi-gods, they can't compete on the same ground.  Despite some inevitable sufferings, these first three realms are considered relatively favorable.

The fourth realm of samsara contains all animals. They suffer because they cannot speak, and because they eat each other. In the fifth realm are insects. The exact description of their suffering is not clear to me yet, although I think is has to do with being considered undesirable and everyone else killing them all the time. Finally, the sixth realm is called the realm of pechri - "hungry ghosts."  They suffer greatly because though they have large bodies, their necks are no bigger than a single strand of hair and thus they may never eat or drink.

Outside of samsara there exists a heaven, in which reside many Buddhas, "thousands of Buddhas," as Ngawang Dorje explains, and other enlightened beings.  There are also some enlightened gods (however I haven't been able to ask yet how they got there, if gods in samsara cannot attain enlightenment directly from the god-realm).  Tibetan Buddhists pray not only to the Buddhas and enlightened gods, but to some unenlightened gods which reside in samsara, as well.  One of my questions, then, was why - if human beings are higher than samsara gods - would we pray to them?  The answer provided is that, though they reside in a lower realm, they are still able to help us and to protect us. Ngawang Dorje explains that there are both personal deities, "I can have my own deities; you can have your own deities," and also general, widely recognized deities.

These universal deities are the ones recognized and honored in festivals like this one, Dumzi, during which several days are spent preparing thorma - intricately painted and decorated sculpture representations of the gods made from barley, rye, millet, corn, or rice flour mixed with giu (butter) and tato pani (hot water).  Some of the thorma are beautiful, and some are rather grotesque. For example, a guided tour last night of the day's production revealed that the armless, vaguely human-shaped thorma with a stick protruding upward and diagonally out of their side and topped with a red globule are actually representative of the gods' hearts extracted and apparently speared. The white and light-colored grain thorma are peaceful gods, while those painted red are wrathful gods. Some are white with red hearts atop their stick. I concluded that these are otherwise peaceful gods with wrathful hearts. The dark-colored thorma which the little monks fashioned into something resembling a starfish or man in flight with all limbs spread are actually the hungry ghosts.

Additionally, I've learned that there are two types of meditation: First is bipashana, which is a non-religious meditation and "will keep you happy all the time," says Ngawang Dorje. I question him on this because he just finished saying there's no real happiness in this life for anyone.  He confirms that even the happiness coming from bipashana is, in the end, not a lasting or true happiness because after all there is no real happiness in samsara. There is also Buddhist meditation, which includes the contemplation of the Lord Buddha's teachings.

A key point of Buddhism is the acquisition of karma: Good, compassionate acts earn the believer good karma, and mean-spirited acts are either a debit to one's bank account of good karma, or they pile up as bad karma in a separate account only to come back to haunt you later. I think of the idea of karma as a faith-injected version of the English saying "What goes around, comes around." Accumulating good karma is important for Buddhists because it helps ensure that when they die they'll be reborn as a human again - hopefully into even better circumstances than the current - and not as an insect, or worse.

All of this information takes a while to process.  After having lived in the monastery for a month already, this explains so much.  A 30 minute discussion has illuminated more of the Buddhist faith for me than a 12-week world religion course I took in college.

While I simply listen and don't give voice to any of my reactions during our conversation, I draw some conclusions. Underlying the theory of karma and rebirth is an inherent assumption that we've come into this life on earth having earned it.  I see that a belief in karma as an eternal record of one's actions helps keep order in Sherpa society and motivates people to do good while dissuading them from bad, but if one's good works are the only thing that count when it comes to reaching heaven, then there is little room for mistakes.  If I were a non-committed agnostic, looking for a religion to follow, Buddhism wouldn't be my first choice.  No true happiness in this life?  Everything depends on my good works?  I prefer the Christian god who freely gives grace, eternal life, and real happiness. I've learned a lot about the Buddhist way of life during my time here, and I've come to understand that there are two types of adherents: on one hand the devout believer who embraces all of Buddhist tradition with it's fantastic stories of deities and demons, on the other hand the conscientious practicer of Buddhist philosophy who attempts to approach everything in moderation, who practices nonviolence, generosity and compassion.  There are lessons I have learned here which I will certainly take with me as I move on from Pema Choling, but my faith in my own God has not diminished and as far as I am a student of Buddhist philosophy, I fall into the latter of those two aforementioned categories.

St. Petersburg Center: A Guided Tour

Last week one of the coordinators from the School of Russian and Asian Studies, named Sergei, led Sarah, Hillary, and I on a walking tour of central St. Petersburg.  It was a warm, clear day and perfect for walking.  It turns out Sergei is a professor at one of the universities in St. Petersburg, and he is a wealth of great information.  Beyond simply knowing an immense amount of information about Russian culture and history, he is able to detach himself from his Russian identity and talk about issues objectively and in a global context.  

"Dom Knigi" ("House of Books"), otherwise known as The Singer House.
It was the first building built in St. Pete by an American company,
(Singer Sewing Company), and at one time it even housed the
U.S. Consulate in St. Petersburg!

A Night at the St. Petersburg Grand Philharmonic

One of the really neat things about working at the Consulate in Public Affairs is the opportunity to get out and about around the city for all sorts of events.  Last night I was given a ticket to the Saint Petersburg Philharmonic, and it was amazing!  Not only was this a first-class, world renowned group of musicians, but to listen to them play on the very stage from which Tchaikovsky often conducted was an all-around spectacular experience. 

St. Petersburg Philharmonic Grand Hall

This is what the hall looks like today.  I was sitting in the center left section, eighth row back, and it was both a nice view as well as good acoustics. I borrowed this snippet about the history of the hall from the philharmonic website:


"This Hall, where today is the Philharmonic, was built in 1839 by the architect P. Jacot (the facade designed by C. Rossi) for the Noble Assembly of St. Petersburg.
The first-class acoustics hall, built to hold more than 1,500 people,  became a center of musical life in St. Petersburg since the late 1840's. There were well-known musicians of the nineteenth century: Liszt, H. Berlioz, Wagner, G. Mahler, A. Rubinstein, K. Schumann, Pauline Viardot, P. Sarasate and others. Here we first heard many of the writings of the classics of Russian music by Borodin, Mussorgsky, Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Glazunov, and more."

Day of the Defenders of the Fatherland

*This is an article I wrote for the students following my travels as part of the Reach the World program. You can view all my Reach the World articles at my RTW home page.

In Russia February 23^rd is widely celebrated as a day to honor the "Defenders of the Fatherland."  It started in 1918, when (on February 23^rd) the first military drafts took place in Moscow and St. Petersburg, recruiting young men into the Red Army to fight in the Russian Revolution. In the beginning, it was called Red Army Day, then later, when Russia became the Soviet Union, the holiday was changed to be called Soviet Army and Navy Day. Do you know when the Soviet Union collapsed? It was in 1991, when the union was split up and the Russian Federation was formed (plus 14 other independent countries). Now that there was no more Soviet Union, it wouldn't really make sense to have a Soviet Army and Navy Day. So the holiday was changed again! It's still celebrated on the same day as that first draft for the Red Army, but now it's called “Day of the Defenders of the Fatherland.”

Sasha, Liosha, Andrei, Maxim, and Vitya

Today the holiday is more of a “Men's Day” than anything. Veterans are honored, but so are young men, teenagers, old men who've never served in the military -- even little boys are congratulated! Boys of all ages receive small gifts like candy bars and other sweets. And it's a national holiday, so no one goes to school or work!

My new Russian friends, Masha and Katya, invited me to dinner at their apartment on Day of the Defenders. Masha and Katya are two girls that are roommates, and they host a Cooking Club at their apartment every Wednesday night! How fun! And delicious.

Belgium

THIS is why I don't feel so bad about coming back from a year in Belgium with only a rudimentary understanding of the country's governing bodies.
The following video is a striking satire on the complexity and sometimes seemingly illogical structure of the Belgian system.

To my dear Belgian family and friends:
I may not understand your government, but I love you all the same :)


A short animated film about the Belgian political structure.

The text was written by Marcel Sel, a Belgian writer, author of Walen Buiten, a best-seller on the «Belgian Crisis».
The music was specifically composed by Laurent Aglat for the film, and Emma Dornan's beautiful voice gave the commentary its magical tone.
The film was directed by Jerome de Gerlache.
And a special thanks to Karine Quarant-Schmidt !
http://blog.marcelsel.com
http://www.laurentaglat.com
http://www.jeromedegerlache.com

From a reader's perspective...

"Books are the treasured 
wealth of the world
and the fit inheritance
of generations and nations."


Henry David Thoreau   1817-1862

The Bunker

It was July in Bosnia, and the one hundred twenty-six degree breeze ruffled my hair and lifted the ringlets off my neck.  It was so hot I would not have been able to concentrate under any normal circumstance, but this was anything but mundane.  A ruggedly handsome older man stood tall and proud before us as he relayed a gripping first-hand account of the Siege of Sarajevo.  The voice of Retired General Jovan Divjak of the Bosnian Army commanded our attention.  His French was impeccable, and my fellow scouts and I felt honored to hear his story straight from the source.  I looked up at the stone pillars of the synagogue behind the general as he spoke.  We were standing atop one of three important hills in Sarajevo, the site of the Jewish Cemetery.  Looking out across the valley, General Divjak pointed to the Christian and Muslim cemeteries on their respective hills; he demonstrated with large arm movements the positions of his men and those of the Serbs and Croats as all three armies gathered to fight for the city on a warm May day in 1992. 

We were then escorted to a bunker near Konjic, just south of Sarajevo, which had been built in the seventies as a recondite emergency shelter for Josip Broz Tito, his family, and his aides.  Our military-grade van turned up a long, one-lane mountain road, slowly climbing for what seemed like an hour.  When finally the van arrived, we were greeted by several average-looking homes looking out over a fish hatchery.  I was somewhat disappointed; besides the soldiers milling about, clad in combat uniforms and armed with Kalashnikovs, this place didn’t seem to be anything special.  Just then, a garage door opened, revealing a tunnel twelve feet tall and infinitely long.  It was only then that I realized the significance of my visit.  

My fascination with the history of the Bosnian War and the region itself led me to ask many questions of General Divjak, every one of which he warmly and fully answered.  Although I had been living in Brussels for a year and spoke French quite fluently, my slight accent and use of expressions gave me away; in a group of Belgians he quickly singled me out and asked about my origins.  Upon learning of my American roots, I was quickly informed that I was the first American civilian ever to visit the bunker.  Much of the Bosnian military did not know of the shelter’s existence.  Though its location was no longer considered top secret, it was certainly not advertised to the public.  I thought to myself that I would never forget this place.  A musty smell permeated my nostrils as we walked by whitewashed walls; maximum security, airtight steel doors; completely furnished yet untouched bedrooms, offices, and conference rooms; and impeccably organized rooms for code-cracking which featured dusty typewriters, telephones, and radios – state of the art equipment in Socialist Yugoslavia in the 1970s. 

the hills surrounding Sarajevo

looking out over the fish hatchery

crammed in the back of the van

the entrance to the bunker

electrical room

General Divjak presents desks completely equipped and untouched since the 70s

the conference room

General Divjak & assistant address us in the conference room.

Note the framed photo of Tito on the wall.

Josep Broz Tito's secret bunker was revealed to the public just last week (see this article, and this one).  It is now in the process of being turned into a contemporary art museum.  I found these articles by chance while revisiting my memories this week.  When I looked back through my blog posts, I was surprised I hadn't told this story yet, as it's definitely one of my favourites.