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Thursday, October 14th, 2004
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9:11 am - Your name means what?
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The story of my name:
How i came to be known by : Funny, Fagile (little bird= gay boy), Fannl, Fanny (= butt), Lisa, Funny, Funnya, Fanny (= vagina).
When i was born in Leningrad, Russia my parents decided to name me after my Father's grandmother whose diminutive name was Fanya. The official Russian name was Faina - a name my mother detested. So there was a compromise, without knowing a word of English my parents decided to name me Funny (Fani). In another twist of fate they gave me the wrong Jewish name, instead a name that means beautiful i got stuck with Fagile - which roughly translates as "little bird" and in today's Israeli is a slang term for a gay boy. I had an auspicious start.
When we emigrated to United States the people at INS were so competent that they spelled my name this way: FANNL. When i got to my third grade class it was changed to Fanny. In the American English "fanny" is an outdated old ladies name that has come to be an endearing way of referring to someone's ass. Since everyone knows how sweet and accepting eight year-olds can be, i soon decided to look for a new name. I decided on Lisa. I wish i can say that i decided on the name inspired by a Simpsons episode, but alas it was because of another critically acclaimed we all remember as Saved by the Bell. I blissfully walked around as Lisa for a few months, until my parents had a teacher - parent conference. Throughout the conference my teacher kept referring to me as Lisa, when my parents objected in their broken English - claiming they "had not daughter named Lisa." That night Lisa became Funny also to be known as Funnya. And ever since then i have been explaining the progression of my name. However having come to Scotland there is a new chapter to be written in my name history.
I was telling a Scottish girl my woeful tale - when she stopped me. "Fanny?" she asked.
"Well here it doesn't mean 'butt,'"
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"It's a slang term for female genitalia."
It couldn't get better then that. And by "better" i mean worse.
Later that week i was waiting in yet another queue - i sparked a conversation with a Belgian guy. Somehow i ended relying the last part of the story. We both had a laugh when he didn't quite understand when i said "vagina."
A week goes by and i'm in the international student coffee event (don't ask) and i see the Belgian (Nicholas) - i come over to a group of people his standing with at which points he introduces me to his friends by saying,
"This is Funnya," - i'm surprised that his remembers my name most people don't - then i realize why he remembers when he continues - "her name means...."
Oh gawd, my face turns red and i proceed to say that "my name means no such thing" and quickly walk away.
So now you know.
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, September 21st, 2004
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3:53 pm - i'm away again
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Here i am in Edinburgh, Scotland. It's beautiful and exciting and i am starting to feel like a freshman again (fresher as they say here). I live in a lovely apartment - with four other girls (ages 18/19) so i am like the apartment grandmother - one girl (Miu (pronounced "my") from Japan) has decided to refer to me as mother - heresy! i say - i do not give off motherly vibes, i'm sexy and adventurous - or something. Did you know Edinburgh is built on an extinct volcano - at least i hope it's extinct - you learn something new everyday.
In other news Ken used one of my favorite jokes in a post. And people keep telling me i'm not funny (but i am - haha get it, because of my name - ok i'll stop). In other pirate related news, Dave Eggers supposedly opened a Pirate Themed shop - so trendy. Now that i caught up in all my blogging and e-mail reading i am off to the loo (as they say here, when you ask for a bathroom they just look at you funny) and then some home made Japanese food. I'll write better/intersting/gramatically correct posts soon.
Some topics:
- celebrating the Jewish New Year in a Church
- censoring some of my "i love American" views
- feeling old with all the little girlies
- feeling annoyed that i have to act like a freshman
- feeling a second class student - when i find out all my classes have been purged and can't be replaced
- feeling creepy when attracted to eighteen year-olds
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| Thursday, September 2nd, 2004
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2:29 am - i don't have the photograph
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I lost the last roll of film i took in Israel. You know how some tribes believe that taking someone's picture is liking taking a part of their soul(or maybe it's some clever tv writer who came up with this and now everyone just repeats it to seem clever and poignant)? Well losing a roll of film is losing a little piece of you soul as well. I miss Israel.
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| Sunday, August 29th, 2004
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11:04 am
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Being in Jerusalem for two days is the equivalent of at least two weeks anywhere else. Ari, a friend i met from my program, invited me to visit him in Jerusalem last weekend. He works at the Hebrew University for two (ultra-left) professors researching the war of 1948. In other words an ideal job for me - i am quite jealous.
I left Haifa Friday morning, arriving in Jerusalem bus station in the early afternoon. The thing about Israel, especially Jerusalem, is that you can feel the Shabbat approaching - even the shops at the station that remained opened Friday afternoon radiated the expectation of a holiday. In Boston i never experienced such a public embrace of the weekend. In America, the pace that goes on during the week does not let up during the Saturday and Sunday - practically everything remains open and the weekend is usually designated as a time to catch up on all the crap you couldn't get done during the rest of the week. In Israel it's different - families allow themselves to bond, relax, and really enjoy one another.
First we went to the beautiful Hebrew University campus on Mt. Scopus - from where one can see the Old City and the hazy outlines of Judean Dessert and the Dead Sea. The air in Israel is not the best, especially in the afternoon, so one is never sure what one is really seeing. Being in Jerusalem is a singular experience - i can never fully believe that i am actually seeing the golden steeples or the Wailing Wall. The campus was deserted (because of Shabbat) and it felt like our own private playground.
From there we caught one of the last working buses and headed to the West Jerusalem center (the New City). Jerusalem is divided into East and West. The Western part is thought of as more cosmopolitan and modern. The East contains the Old City, Mount of Olives, and and mixed Arab and Jewish neighborhoods. We walked around Ben Yehuda Street, eating one most incredible falafals i have tasted in my life - flafal balls mixed with thina, humus, salad, pickles, and warm pita (basically too delicious for words) - followed by the very soothing banana milk from a plastic packet. We then proceeded to walk towards the President's house, where a soldier was taking her security duties very seriously by talking on her cell phone and looking very annoyed when we walked by. I've gotten so used people checking my bag, that when the security personnel doesn't, it almost offends me! Strange.
Then, from the modern downtown we walked to the Old City, where i would be spending the night at the Heritage Hostel in the Jewish Quarter. I couldn't stay with Ari at his absorption center because of some stupid rule not allowing women to stay overnight in men's apartments (what business is it of theirs - godammit?!). Ari, being Canadian and hence law abiding and proper, refused to covertly sneak me in. However, this proved to be blessing in disguise because to be at the the Kotel (Wailing Wall or as the French call it - Wall of Lamentations) on Shabbat is an incredible affair. Even before you see anything you can hear the men singing and praying. There is electricity and happiness in the air. Then when you actually see the spectacle it blows your mind. Imagine a sea of black and white swaying and chanting. The women's side is also beautiful - more varied in colors but also subdued in the level of praying. It feels quite magical to be there - however, i felt more like an on looker then a participant. I strongly identify myself as a cultural Jew - i love the traditions and the morality that comes out the religion- but in moments like this i'm both attracted and repelled by the idea of being more religious. I always feel like crying at the Wall and i can't explain it.
One image that stands out is of a religious women descending the stairs towards the Wall, struggling to get the stroller with a child in it down the stairs. At the same time, Hassidic men, instead of helping the woman, actually moving as far away as possible from her as though she was the plague. Quite sad. But then in the same instant seeing a modern - Orthodox family descending the same stairs where the mother and the father carrying the stroller and smiling. Made me happy.
The hostel that i stayed in also arranges for you to be hosted for Shabbat dinner at one of the families in the neighborhood. I was invited to eat with Michael and Jackie - a couple in their late 50's from Miami. I have to be honest at first they seemed like the typical privileged, self-satisfied, Jews. From the Kotel we walked just outside of the Old City to their gated community apartment. There were about eight other guests beside me - all modern - Orthodox - i felt a bit out of place. I won't bore you with the details of the night but here are some high lights:
- the house was filled with pictures of a 20-something man (probably their son) holding a baby/cat - turns out they have a son and a daughter - where are the photos of her?
- Jackie showed us (by us i mean the women) a tall tree in their tiny back yard - that was supposed grow a few feet, but "Hashem" decided that it should grow much higher - it's not the fertilizer it's "Hashem"
- some how the first conversation was about not "judging a book by it's cover" in which the table was informed of the time Jackie learned a valuable lesson in toleration. When after a hurricane in Miami she learned that good people come in all shades and tattoos. It seems that their roofer was one of these" punk people" (oh the horror, the horror) dressed all in black, with lots of tattoos, and piercing in the wrong places. Who turned out to be a really soft spoken and descent guy. This story was followed by similar stories of realizing that people who don't dress or act like you can be good too. (I needed a barf bag right about then.)
In the end there were things i found i admired about them and things i could have done without. They seemed really pleased with themselves for making Aliah, for being observant Jews, and living in (near) the Old City. The lacked certain prospective and were a bit too snobbish. (I also didn't like that all the men were doctors and the women all stayed home - there was actually a painting of a black women with a yellow background drawn by Jackie - i shit you not - the typical painting of a soulful native done by the benevolent rich mistress). Yet at the same time they were warm and welcoming. Some of them visited the Soviet Union to help refusniks in the 70's and later in the 80's. Quite admirable. So overall it was good night - only in Jerusalem.
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(comment on this)
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11:01 am - Jerusalem II
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The next morning i was supposed to meet Ari at the Jaffa Gate at 11:30. After going through a sweaty, smelly, crowded Arab market - i reached the gate. 11: 30, no Ari, 11:45, no Ari. 12:00 no Ari, 12:30 no Ari - i keep calling Ari's cell but all i get is an annoying message in Hebrew that i don't understand! At 1:00 i spot Ari's roommate who is observes the Shabbat leaving the Old City. He doesn't know where Ari is but he informs that all this time i have not been standing at Jaffa gate but at some random small exit of the old city! Funnya's thought bubble: SHIT! There is a misleading sign that looks like it says Jaffa Gate and has arrow pointing to where i been standing. Dammit. I rush to the actual Jaffa Gate. I look around for a few minutes: no Ari! I go to the bathroom and splash some water - the sun is brutal - i come out and look again - i spot him in a small store sitting with a young guy talking. I rush and start apologizing and thanking the guy for letting Ari hang at his store. Then we precede to a small park for a picnic that Ari has planned. We eat hummus and pita and although i am disappointed at the lack of variety of the food i am still quite stuffed after the meal.
Ari and i head back to the Old City. I am wearing a long white skirt and pretty pink shirt which is a bit low cut (this will be an important detail later on). We go through the Arab market and try to avoid the shouting that is supposed to lure(?) us into the shops. The shop keepers are very aggressive here. A German tourist who i met while waiting for Ari - told me that he almost got into a fight here and that the "Arabs here (in Jerusalem)" are much more aggressive then in other part of the country. We went to the Church of Sepulcher - it smelled funny - it was nice to see all the Christian sects sharing the space - i was a little bit too cynical to be called respectful - "Look this is where Jesus died," and "here," and "here." In all seriousness it was moving to see people have such strong faith.
Then we walked to the Arab section of the Old City. It's more dirty then the other parts, with trash and loose gravel all around. Most (Jewish) Israelis will not go into this part of the City, the Israeli police only guard the entrance to the neighborhood and don't enter the inside. The walls are covered with red and green dots, the image of the Dome of the Rock (Arab symbol for Jerusalem), crescents, and other interesting symbols. The people were mostly friendly to us walking around - however there was some uncomfortable moments. At one point we came upon a community park / playground / basketball court donated by some American organization - it was well kept and quite peaceful. Then we proceeded to the other parts - we went to another playground - where there were all the usual graffiti plus huge swatstikas. Nothing says welcome to a Jew (or anyone else for that matter) like a huge swastika sign at the playground. At that point i needed a bit more fresh air so we headed out of the Old City. Earlier, i mentioned what i was wearing for a reason: Besides the graffiti (that i expected), i was cut off guard and emotionally drained by the stares i got from the men in the city. I was wearing a bright colored, opened shirt - nothing too open - however the men that walked passed me did so while glaring at my chest and snickering - i don't know how accurately to describe this - but lets just say i felt like something between a prostitute and a piece of meat. It was demeaning and their disrespect drained me. I left the Old City walls feeling vulnerable and naked. I have never experienced, on a personal level, such disregard of my humanity. We left the city and i could breath a little bit easier. We walked around the walls of the city - witnessed a typical Israeli exchange - when a bus that was supposed to pick a wedding party in David's village, missed his turn, and had to back up illegally near one of the Old City's gate - a process that should have taken five minutes took at least 30. The soldiers were yelling, then the men from the wedding party down the street were yelling, the driver, everyone! Rejuvenate we walked towers the Jerusalem Promenade and the fence. First we walked through an Arab area - where i again i got stares and insulting smirks - but we also met a father and two children riding on a horse who offered us a ride - mostly people were friendly and wanted to be welcoming. It was interesting to see how two sides of the same street can be dramatically different in just a few steps. As we stepped into the Jewish neighborhood the houses looked orderly and clean, there was no garbage on the street, and no graffiti anywhere. I have experienced anything like it - in such a short amount of time to transported into a completely different environment.
The Promenade is a neutral place for both Arabs and Jews to use together, where people walk, ride bicycles, eat, or in other words live together. The view from the Promenade is worth checking out - Jerusalem at sunset is am image i will not soon forget. The color spectrum runs between orange and purple. Amazing.
Ari and i walked to the infamous fence, it was still in the process of being built. I support the building of the fence, simply because it's working. It was important for me to see it with my own eyes. However, it's tough to see it divide whole neighborhood and even streets. Everyday there is a case in court where the fence should go, every cm counts.
On the way back we met two lovely lesbians. I had to catch a taxi to get to the bus station to go to Haifa. The bus was completely full, not American style full, but Israeli. People who were left without seats stood or even plopped down on the floor for the two hour trip, craziness.
I came to a conclusion that although a great city to visit, I would never live in Jerusalem, too much of too much.
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(comment on this)
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| Sunday, August 8th, 2004
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11:25 am - I don't want to admit it, but...
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I really like Marving Gaye's Let's Get it On. It must be one of the cheesiest songs out there, but the first few notes of the song are quite intoxicating. There is such ...um... relief in the first seconds of the song. A few years ago my friend Rachel even had a little move she did with her hand to the opening of the song. Quite sexy in that dorky way.
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(comment on this)
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11:24 am - Things I love About Israel #7
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I love how (overall) families are close knit. Especially dads! Whenever i see families out together it is usually the dad horsing around with the kids or changing diapers. Quite a different picture from the standard American family - where the dad is often absent or distant. They take joy in their children's childhoods (is that repetitive?) with the knowledge that in the future their kids will have to face the danger that comes with serving in the army.
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(comment on this)
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11:22 am - Jerusalem Part I
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Being in Jerusalem for two days is the equivalent of at least two weeks anywhere else. Ari, a friend i met from my program, invited me to visit him in Jerusalem last weekend. He works at the Hebrew University for two (ultra-left) professors researching the war of 1948. In other words an ideal job for me - i am quite jealous.
I left Haifa Friday morning, arriving in Jerusalem bus station in the early afternoon. The thing about Israel, especially Jerusalem, is that you can feel the Shabbat approaching - even the shops at the station that remained opened Friday afternoon radiated the expectation of a holiday. In Boston i never experienced such a public embrace of the weekend. In America, the pace that goes on during the week does not let up during the Saturday and Sunday - practically everything remains open and the weekend is usually designated as a time to catch up on all the crap you couldn't get done during the rest of the week. In Israel it's different - families allow themselves to bond, relax, and really enjoy one another.
First we went to the beautiful Hebrew University campus on Mt. Scopus - from where one can see the Old City and the hazy outlines of Judean Dessert and the Dead Sea. The air in Israel is not the best, especially in the afternoon, so one is never sure what one is really seeing. Being in Jerusalem is a singular experience - i can never fully believe that i am actually seeing the golden steeples or the Wailing Wall. The campus was deserted (because of Shabbat) and it felt like our own private playground.
From there we caught one of the last working buses and headed to the West Jerusalem center (the New City). Jerusalem is divided into East and West. The Western part is thought of as more cosmopolitan and modern. The East contains the Old City, Mount of Olives, and and mixed Arab and Jewish neighborhoods. We walked around Ben Yehuda Street, eating one most incredible falafals i have tasted in my life - flafal balls mixed with thina, humus, salad, pickles, and warm pita (basically too delicious for words) - followed by the very soothing banana milk from a plastic packet. We then proceeded to walk towards the President's house, where a soldier was taking her security duties very seriously by talking on her cell phone and looking very annoyed when we walked by. I've gotten so used people checking my bag, that when the security personnel doesn't, it almost offends me! Strange.
Then, from the modern downtown we walked to the Old City, where i would be spending the night at the Heritage Hostel in the Jewish Quarter. I couldn't stay with Ari at his absorption center because of some stupid rule not allowing women to stay overnight in men's apartments (what business is it of theirs - godammit?!). Ari, being Canadian and hence law abiding and proper, refused to covertly sneak me in. However, this proved to be blessing in disguise because to be at the the Kotel (Wailing Wall or as the French call it - Wall of Lamentations) on Shabbat is an incredible affair. Even before you see anything you can hear the men singing and praying. There is electricity and happiness in the air. Then when you actually see the spectacle it blows your mind. Imagine a sea of black and white swaying and chanting. The women's side is also beautiful - more varied in colors but also subdued in the level of praying. It feels quite magical to be there - however, i felt more like an on looker then a participant. I strongly identify myself as a cultural Jew - i love the traditions and the morality that comes out the religion- but in moments like this i'm both attracted and repelled by the idea of being more religious. I always feel like crying at the Wall and i can't explain it.
One image that stands out is of a religious women descending the stairs towards the Wall, struggling to get the stroller with a child in it down the stairs. At the same time, Hassidic men, instead of helping the woman, actually moving as far away as possible from her as though she was the plague. Quite sad. But then in the same instant seeing a modern - Orthodox family descending the same stairs where the mother and the father carrying the stroller and smiling. Made me happy.
The hostel that i stayed in also arranges for you to be hosted for Shabbat dinner at one of the families in the neighborhood. I was invited to eat with Michael and Jackie - a couple in their late 50's from Miami. I have to be honest at first they seemed like the typical privileged, self-satisfied, Jews. From the Kotel we walked just outside of the Old City to their gated community apartment. There were about eight other guests beside me - all modern - Orthodox - i felt a bit out of place. I won't bore you with the details of the night but here are some high lights:
- the house was filled with pictures of a 20-something man (probably their son) holding a baby/cat - turns out they have a son and a daughter - where are the photos of her?
- Jackie showed us (by us i mean the women) a tall tree in their tiny back yard - that was supposed grow a few feet, but "Hashem" decided that it should grow much higher - it's not the fertilizer it's "Hashem"
- some how the first conversation was about not "judging a book by it's cover" in which the table was informed of the time Jackie learned a valuable lesson in toleration. When after a hurricane in Miami she learned that good people come in all shades and tattoos. It seems that their roofer was one of these" punk people" (oh the horror, the horror) dressed all in black, with lots of tattoos, and piercing in the wrong places. Who turned out to be a really soft spoken and descent guy. This story was followed by similar stories of realizing that people who don't dress or act like you can be good too. (I needed a barf bag right about then.)
In the end there were things i found i admired about them and things i could have done without. They seemed really pleased with themselves for making Aliah, for being observant Jews, and living in (near) the Old City. The lacked certain prospective and were a bit too snobbish. (I also didn't like that all the men were doctors and the women all stayed home - there was actually a painting of a black women with a yellow background drawn by Jackie - i shit you not - the typical painting of a soulful native done by the benevolent rich mistress). Yet at the same time they were warm and welcoming. Some of them visited the Soviet Union to help refusniks in the 70's and later in the 80's. Quite admirable. So overall it was good night - only in Jerusalem.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Saturday, July 17th, 2004
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9:05 am - i feel guilty
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Betka, left a post making me feel bad about leaving livejournal....so i will dutifully post on both websites. Cause i lov emy sis soooo much!
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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9:04 am - Fat Women
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I was in this beautiful Latin American art museum in Casseria, Israel (of all places!). The collection includes contemporary South American artist (they also have some Dali sculptures which didn't impress me that much). Besides the beautiful colorful paintings, the museum has quite a large collection of sculptures. Most of the sculptures were of young (and not so young) women by a Mexican artist. It struck me that the women that were depicted were not some fragile waifs but solid, hefty (dare i use the word fat?), graceful bodies. It's rare to see women who are fat depicted in modern art as confident and more importantly attractive - there was true beauty in these sculptures that took me back. It was a bit refreshing.
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(comment on this)
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9:03 am - a time of confidences....
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I have been in Haifa for a little bit more than 3 weeks. I am (hardly) working at University of Haifa's library - a measly 20 hours. So usually i can work for three days and travel/explore Israel the other 4 days (no a bad deal). Thus in the past few days i visited my dear friend Ran in Rehovot - i haven't seen him in almost six years - it was wonderful and a bit sad - finding truly good friends is hard but it is even harder when circumstances force you apart. I got to Rehovot early evening and Ran and i went on a bike ride at a nearby kibbutz - the setting was quite magical - the sun was setting, the fruits (and vegetables) were growing, and the cows (parit)were mooing - it was nice to feel the air on your face and to see a dear friend next to you. Not that the meeting was completely perfect - i was stumbling through it - as i usually do. When i met Ran he was 23 and i was 15 - i never felt the age difference - but now visiting him at his (and his girlfriend's) home i felt a bit of a little kid. I didn't know what was appropriate to talk about - should i reminisce about six years ago (which i desperately wanted to do) or should i re-cap my last 6 years or should i shut up and have Ran lead the conversation. My crazies aside - Ran made us an amazing Israeli dinner both eastern and western influences - i reminded that Israel, like America, is a country of immigrants. Ran likes to travel and he showed me pictures from some of his trips - i was really taken with Petra (in Jordan) so i might plan a mini holiday and go to Jordan to see the natural red rocks and beautiful gorges. Sorry for the long post - i'll make them a bit shorter next time.
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(comment on this)
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9:03 am - a resolution
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promise to blog more than once a week...i've been meaning to blog but have found little time between work and traveling around Israel - visiting old friends and relatives (but that's a pathetic excuse). Here is a preview about what i have been thinking/observing:
- all families are different
- a new appreciation for my mother
- old men and babies
- old men and loneliness vs. old women and loneliness
- the ramifications of different education level
- Mexican statues of fat women
- the story of Judith
- young men and commitment
- bad vibes from girlfriends
- the beauty of a kibbutz at sunset
- my sister getting officially engaged (wfew!)
- sadness of a country at war
- Medelsohn, helicopters, and the sunset
- office politics
- losing the ability to speak english, not learning enough hebrew to compensate
- and much, much, more...
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, July 16th, 2004
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6:19 pm - update
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| Sunday, July 4th, 2004
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5:27 pm - Happy Birthday America!
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Here i am stuck at work on fourth of July (a Sunday mind you)! Anyway as great as Israel is - i wish for this weekend i was home - party hopping, going to Lars Anderson park to watch the fire works, and drinking my self (alsmost) silly! So let me know what you American patriots up to! Alas, today i made a date with Avi. You might be wondering who Avi is - well wonder away because i am wondering that myself. A friend of mine gave him my phone number, (what is it with middle aged women and setting people up?) he called and now i am going out for coffee with a stranger. I will report on this later. I also finally went out to a bar at night. On Friday my co-worker Lena took me to DOV (an appropriately named bar to start my social life in Haifa)with a bunch of her Russian programmer friends. It was so wonderful to be out past 10pm (i felt like a High scholar at a college party)- i missed the night time energy. Saturday was more mellow and now i am struggling through the sluggish Sunday
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, June 27th, 2004
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4:28 pm - It's always lovely here.
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Here i am in the land of milk and honey and to tell you the truth it still hasn't registered. I feel like i am on a weird vacation surrounded by well intentioned people who annoy me and who i annoy. Otherwise it's been incredible living in Israel. Everyday the sun is shining brightly and in my "backyard" are the beautiful mountains covered in trees, bushes, and yellow stone. I went hiking alone on Saturday and it was lovely to be by myself - in such impressive surroundings. I still can't get over how beautiful Haifa looks from mine apartment (even the Industrial Plant).
I feel that by leaving Boston i have escaped all the ghosts that haunted me lately -but just temporarily, they are lingering in the shadows - waiting for me to comeback.
The cafes here are lovely (no Starbucks here, thank you). I sit and fall in love with every other boy that walks by.
Now for my daily walk and tanning session.
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, June 12th, 2004
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12:15 am - bannana stories
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I was driving today and suddenly i smelled the strongest phantom smell of sweet bananas. That got me thinking of my childhood. You see, while growing up in the Motherland (Russia), bananas were a rare occasion, and every time i got to eat a banana it was a fantastical experience. I remember one summer, my dad brought a whole box of bananas to our dacha. It was so exciting to think i would be able to eat real bananas (not the small pathetic dried bananas). There is no adequate description i can offer in describing how good this precious fruits tasted. There was a special aroma and texture- basically indescribable. The thrill of eating bananas soon left me ater we arrived in the US. They lost their appeal (as did apples), however sometimes i'll bite into a just-right-banana and the pleasure i felt as a little kid overwhelms me, and i am brought to the happiness that was my childhood. Anyways, they say that smell is the strongest trigger of memory. I still sometimes wish i can look at certain foods and have the same feelings when i was a deprived child in Russia. Every good thing seemed to mean more. Maybe it's the huge consumer culture of America or maybe it's me growing up- but rarely does simple food excite me (although when i see cherries....watch out).
Another thing bananas remind me off is an incident that happened when i was in high school. I was sitting in and extremely hot class room, sometimes when it's hot my hands get itchy. I had a cool banana in my backpack. So i innocently pulled it put and held the banana in my hand (to cool my hands). Anyways, several of my friends claim that it wasn't that innocent. Especially since the class i was in was being taught by a teacher who i had a crush in. A little Freudian slip? I think not, but others claim it was pretty risque gesture. But my hands were hot!
It sounds more funny when my friend Phil tells the story - ok, well till the next perfect banana - me.
current mood:  amused
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, June 11th, 2004
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3:39 pm - who knew?!
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| Tuesday, June 1st, 2004
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11:34 pm - sigh
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How does one avoid becoming the victim or the victimizer? How does one stay compassionate?
More on this later.
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| Monday, May 31st, 2004
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3:56 pm - Ice Cream Trucks
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So i was in my favorite Mexican restaurant, getting a HUGE steak burrrito (see previous post). Thinking i could eat it while basking in the warm sun and reading a wonderful book. However, as i was sitting down on the bench i heard the most ANNOYING sound. A few feet away stood an ice cream truck, blaring horrible children's tune, over and over and over again. After two minutes of this torture i had to get up and walk to my car. But did the music abate? No! The evil ice cream truck followed me and proceeded to ride behind me for the next two blocks (blaring the same stupid song ad nasuem). Conclusion of the story: ice cream trucks are evil contraptions that should be used on inmates in solitary confinement. On a side note, one of my favorite Tom Waits songs is the Ice Cream Man. I wouldn't mind the ice cream truck if a) played this song (although it would probably creeep little kids out) and b) Tom Waits was the ice cream man.
I'll be clickin' by your house about two forty-five
Sidewalk sundae strawberry surprise,
I got a cherry popsicle right on time
A big stick, mamma, that'll blow your mind
Cause I'm the ice cream man, I'm a one-man band (yeah)
I'm the ice cream man, honey, I'll be good to you.
Baby, missed me in the alley, baby, don't you fret
Come back around and don't forget,
When you're tired and you're hungry and you want something cool,
Got something better than a swimming pool
See me coming, you ain't got no change
Don't worry baby, it can be arranged:
Show me you can smile, baby just for me
Fix you with a drumstick, I'll do it for free
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| Sunday, May 9th, 2004
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7:20 pm - Yummy
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I discovered this lovely, cheap, (but mainly) delicious Mexican restaurant: El Pellon near Fenway. It's located at 92 Peterborough Street (617-262-9090)! Their burritos are quite yummy. And even though i don't know what real Mexican food should taste like their food seems to fit the bill quite nicely. My friend Sam, took me there a few weeks ago and since then i've been back twice. I have also been having dreams about cheese and i attribute this to previous-mentioned establishment. Mexican food is quite new to me and i welcome it to my multi-cultural food palate.
current mood:  hungry
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