Well, yesterday I made a fool of myself at work, by going in to Manhattan for a meeting only to find out that the meeting was in Queens. Oops. But maybe it was not an accident.
On my way in the door, I passed a Turkish co-worker (whom I do not normally see). She commented that I must be leaving soon for my trip, and asked if I was preparing by eating Turkish food, etc. I agreed that I was, and then mentioned that I had obtained a CD of worship songs used in my church, but sung in Turkish. She was fascinated, and said she had never heard of such a thing. And then she said that she would be interested to hear it, and asked if she could borrow it.
So I will have the opportunity to lend my Muslim co-worker a Christian worship album. All I can say to that is:
Gorkemin bu yeri dodursun
No, I'm not positive exactly what it means -- but it's the first line of "Let your Glory Fall"
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Vegemite
Some things are an acquired taste.
I love tasting new foods. Even if I don't especially care for them, I like the opportunity. But sometimes certain tastes puzzle me.
Yesterday, I walked by the pantry at work just in time to notice 'C' (Australian) and 'S' gleefully buttering some toast, and then spreading some dark brown paste on it. They happily announced that they had obtained a new jar of Vegemite, to replace the jar that had disappeared (surely not stolen?). They were so delighted to have it, that they wanted to share their joy with someone, and I was elected. Craig cut me a slice of the toast and watched with happy anticipation as I tasted it.
It tasted...salty. But not just salty, sort of dark. In fact, it tastes sort of like it looks. Brown and pasty. It wasn't horrible, but I just couldn't grasp the immense fondness that it generates. We finally agreed that it must be an acquired taste. 'C' felt that when you eat it as a child, you remember it as something good when you grow up. Of course, the flaw in that theory is how in the world you would get a child to eat it in the first place, unless you starved them first. But I'm still happy that I tried it.
But my day was not complete. 'R' also noticed me passing by, and called me over to try a special dish she had made for an Indian festival. It looked like a yellow rice pilaf. I have to admit that this dish was much easier to describe than the vegemite. Imagine rice pudding made with some raisins and cashews...and then add LOTS of hot curry powder. I tried to be complementary without being too enthusiastic -- I had this sudden fear that if she thought that I really loved it she might go to a lot of trouble to make it specially for me as a treat. I'm glad I had the opportunity to try it, but one bite was plenty!
So today when I saw her, I sociably asked if she had cooked anything else good. And she graciously offered me a taste of her lunch. So I ran and got a fork, and took a bite of some innocent looking but lethal curry. Actually, the flavor was excellent, it was just...hot. As I put it in my mouth, I had an audience of 4 Indian women watching me intently. I commented truthfully that the flavor was very good but it was rather hot. At which point they mildly explained that normally you mix it with the rice rather than eating it straight. Oh. I'm so used to skipping rice that it didn't occur to me that it was there for a reason! But I think they were rather proud of me for eating something they described as true Indian flavor.
I love tasting new foods. Even if I don't especially care for them, I like the opportunity. But sometimes certain tastes puzzle me.
Yesterday, I walked by the pantry at work just in time to notice 'C' (Australian) and 'S' gleefully buttering some toast, and then spreading some dark brown paste on it. They happily announced that they had obtained a new jar of Vegemite, to replace the jar that had disappeared (surely not stolen?). They were so delighted to have it, that they wanted to share their joy with someone, and I was elected. Craig cut me a slice of the toast and watched with happy anticipation as I tasted it.
It tasted...salty. But not just salty, sort of dark. In fact, it tastes sort of like it looks. Brown and pasty. It wasn't horrible, but I just couldn't grasp the immense fondness that it generates. We finally agreed that it must be an acquired taste. 'C' felt that when you eat it as a child, you remember it as something good when you grow up. Of course, the flaw in that theory is how in the world you would get a child to eat it in the first place, unless you starved them first. But I'm still happy that I tried it.
But my day was not complete. 'R' also noticed me passing by, and called me over to try a special dish she had made for an Indian festival. It looked like a yellow rice pilaf. I have to admit that this dish was much easier to describe than the vegemite. Imagine rice pudding made with some raisins and cashews...and then add LOTS of hot curry powder. I tried to be complementary without being too enthusiastic -- I had this sudden fear that if she thought that I really loved it she might go to a lot of trouble to make it specially for me as a treat. I'm glad I had the opportunity to try it, but one bite was plenty!
So today when I saw her, I sociably asked if she had cooked anything else good. And she graciously offered me a taste of her lunch. So I ran and got a fork, and took a bite of some innocent looking but lethal curry. Actually, the flavor was excellent, it was just...hot. As I put it in my mouth, I had an audience of 4 Indian women watching me intently. I commented truthfully that the flavor was very good but it was rather hot. At which point they mildly explained that normally you mix it with the rice rather than eating it straight. Oh. I'm so used to skipping rice that it didn't occur to me that it was there for a reason! But I think they were rather proud of me for eating something they described as true Indian flavor.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Wisdom
The other day, one of my Hindu colleagues confided that he wished to be wise, and he wondered aloud if it was OK to pray for wisdom.
I responded that the Bible told a story of a very wise man, who had gained his wisdom by asking God. 'P' was very interested at this.
"Would you like to hear the story of how Solomon became wise, and what he did with his wisdom?"
"Yes, please tell me this story"
So I told him the story of Solomon, and of course the story of the two women who disputed over the child. He was very curious that such a thing would be in the Bible. But he agreed that one would have to be very wise indeed to think of such a solution, to reveal the truth. I explained that Solomon was only able to be that wise because God had given him wisdom. Then 'P' questioned me again:
"This is in the Bible?"
I seem to have stumbled on a method for being 'allowed' to talk about the Bible in an excessively secularized, politically correct, religiously diverse workplace. By keying off of a topic that is of interest to the other person, and mentioning that there is a relevant Bible story, I have found that every time the response is:
"Tell it to me!"
I responded that the Bible told a story of a very wise man, who had gained his wisdom by asking God. 'P' was very interested at this.
"Would you like to hear the story of how Solomon became wise, and what he did with his wisdom?"
"Yes, please tell me this story"
So I told him the story of Solomon, and of course the story of the two women who disputed over the child. He was very curious that such a thing would be in the Bible. But he agreed that one would have to be very wise indeed to think of such a solution, to reveal the truth. I explained that Solomon was only able to be that wise because God had given him wisdom. Then 'P' questioned me again:
"This is in the Bible?"
I seem to have stumbled on a method for being 'allowed' to talk about the Bible in an excessively secularized, politically correct, religiously diverse workplace. By keying off of a topic that is of interest to the other person, and mentioning that there is a relevant Bible story, I have found that every time the response is:
"Tell it to me!"
Thursday, August 12, 2004
I am the Hula Queen!
Now for a short interruption in the VLI and cross-cultural themes, to bring a moment of comic relief.
Yesterday, I shocked everyone at work.
We had a corporate picnic, with various planned events: horseshoes; spoon race; balloon splat; chicken fling (don't even ask!);bocce; volleyball; and hula hoop. Well, most of my co-workers did not know that my one and only athletic expertise is the hula hoop. Of course, I peaked around 30 years ago (and 60 pounds ago).
The competition was better than I expected, but I was clearly the champion. Apparently, some of my colleagues were even laying bets on the outcome. We had to hula while walking a few steps forward and backward, and rotating in a circle, with our hands on our heads. Finally, they made us each spin two hoops at once. I don't remember whether I ever tried that as a child. My claim to fame was hoola-hooping while readying a book. The trick is you have to choose a book with rather large print, and you have to learn to not swivel with large movements. Frankly, that is a bit harder than merely putting your hands on your head.
I know that some people spend their lives and their careers hoping for a super bowl ring (or vicariously thinking of what could have happened). As for me, I'm happy with my own prize -- a shower radio. In fact, maybe I will try it out now, as I soak out all those little muscles that I have suddenly become re-acquainted with. How thoughtful of the game organizers.
Yesterday, I shocked everyone at work.
We had a corporate picnic, with various planned events: horseshoes; spoon race; balloon splat; chicken fling (don't even ask!);bocce; volleyball; and hula hoop. Well, most of my co-workers did not know that my one and only athletic expertise is the hula hoop. Of course, I peaked around 30 years ago (and 60 pounds ago).
The competition was better than I expected, but I was clearly the champion. Apparently, some of my colleagues were even laying bets on the outcome. We had to hula while walking a few steps forward and backward, and rotating in a circle, with our hands on our heads. Finally, they made us each spin two hoops at once. I don't remember whether I ever tried that as a child. My claim to fame was hoola-hooping while readying a book. The trick is you have to choose a book with rather large print, and you have to learn to not swivel with large movements. Frankly, that is a bit harder than merely putting your hands on your head.
I know that some people spend their lives and their careers hoping for a super bowl ring (or vicariously thinking of what could have happened). As for me, I'm happy with my own prize -- a shower radio. In fact, maybe I will try it out now, as I soak out all those little muscles that I have suddenly become re-acquainted with. How thoughtful of the game organizers.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Moti hears the story of Ruth
Today Moti came and asked me something at work. I had trouble understanding him. And then I had to ask him what his name was, and had trouble understanding hs name. But when he realized that I was really trying, he added:
M: It means something
A: Really? what does it mean?
M: It means puhl.
A: Puhl?
M: Yes, puhl [finally he wrote it down for me]
A: Oh, pearl! That's a beautiful name.
M: I don't like it
A: Why not?
M: In my country, we use this for a dog's name.
A: Oh, that is too
beautiful for a dog. But we sometimes give very fine names to dogs
too-- we sometimes call a dog 'King'.
M: I wanted to change my name, but my father wouldn't let me.
A: I'm always interested in how different names are popular at different times. Do you know the talk show host Oprah Winfrey?
M: Yes, we can see American TV in my village.
A: Well, many mothers names their babies after Oprah. But there is only one problem.
M: What is the problem?
A: When Oprah was born, her mother intended her to be named after Orpah, who was a character in the Bible, but they wrote it down with a typo, so now all the little girls who are being named after her actually have the wrong name too. And to top it off, it is also funny because the character Orpah in the Bible is not a very important or special character. Do you know the story?
M: No. How does it go?
So there I was, giving a dramatic re-telling of the story of Orpah to Moti. Even now, trying to blog the conversation, I can't quite figure out how I ended up there!
M: It means something
A: Really? what does it mean?
M: It means puhl.
A: Puhl?
M: Yes, puhl [finally he wrote it down for me]
A: Oh, pearl! That's a beautiful name.
M: I don't like it
A: Why not?
M: In my country, we use this for a dog's name.
A: Oh, that is too
beautiful for a dog. But we sometimes give very fine names to dogs
too-- we sometimes call a dog 'King'.
M: I wanted to change my name, but my father wouldn't let me.
A: I'm always interested in how different names are popular at different times. Do you know the talk show host Oprah Winfrey?
M: Yes, we can see American TV in my village.
A: Well, many mothers names their babies after Oprah. But there is only one problem.
M: What is the problem?
A: When Oprah was born, her mother intended her to be named after Orpah, who was a character in the Bible, but they wrote it down with a typo, so now all the little girls who are being named after her actually have the wrong name too. And to top it off, it is also funny because the character Orpah in the Bible is not a very important or special character. Do you know the story?
M: No. How does it go?
So there I was, giving a dramatic re-telling of the story of Orpah to Moti. Even now, trying to blog the conversation, I can't quite figure out how I ended up there!
VLI at a distance, at a distance
I guess it's one of my flaws that I always think that if something interests me it will interest other people too. As a result, my co-workers hear a surprising amount about VLI. It's sort of like VLI one step removed.
On Tuesday, I was trying to find every opportunity to get in a little bit more studying time: walking to the station, on the train, in the elevator. At lunch time, I brought my notes to the cafeteria, only to bump into two colleagues with whom I've never eaten. It seemed to be better to join them, for some reason. So I sat down with them, and explained that the papers in my hand were study notes. Well, my office-mates have been quite puzzled as to why I am putting this effort into something that will not increase my earning potential, and 'D' finally felt he had the opportunity to see what it was about. So he asked if he could see my notes.
I handed him my notes, and then sat amazed when I thought of how God had worked this out. 'D' turned the page, and started reading the section on 'Eternity in their Hearts'. Here I was, lunching with two Hindus, while they read the stories from around the world of various people and tribes who had ancient beliefs in one true God.
I don't know what he thought of it. But his only comment was to ask "is this an open book test?" When I said no, this absolutely brilliant man shook his head and said, "this is too much to learn. "
Steve Robbins, do you hear that?
On Tuesday, I was trying to find every opportunity to get in a little bit more studying time: walking to the station, on the train, in the elevator. At lunch time, I brought my notes to the cafeteria, only to bump into two colleagues with whom I've never eaten. It seemed to be better to join them, for some reason. So I sat down with them, and explained that the papers in my hand were study notes. Well, my office-mates have been quite puzzled as to why I am putting this effort into something that will not increase my earning potential, and 'D' finally felt he had the opportunity to see what it was about. So he asked if he could see my notes.
I handed him my notes, and then sat amazed when I thought of how God had worked this out. 'D' turned the page, and started reading the section on 'Eternity in their Hearts'. Here I was, lunching with two Hindus, while they read the stories from around the world of various people and tribes who had ancient beliefs in one true God.
I don't know what he thought of it. But his only comment was to ask "is this an open book test?" When I said no, this absolutely brilliant man shook his head and said, "this is too much to learn. "
Steve Robbins, do you hear that?