Giveaway: ‘How the Garcia girls lost their accents’

Cover of 'How the Garclia Girls lost their accentsInspired by the generosity of Moorish Girl, I’ve decided to start giving away some books and other items every once in a while. Why am I doing this? Well, it is a token of appreciation for everyone who spends time reading my mental scribbles. It is also a thank you to all of those who took time to comment on my humble blog. Whether they were encouragement, criticism or suggestion, these comments have helped me become a better writer, blogger and a better person generally. So, thank you!

This week I’m giving away a novel by Julia Alavarez called How the Garcia girls lost their accents. The rule is simple: just send an email with the title of the book to ntynes [at] gmail dot com. The first person who sends me the email will get the book. I will take care of the shipping costs so no worries there. I got this book last year so it is little bit worn but it is free!.

UPDATE: And the book goes to … Ananyah (inspiration for this blog’s Radio).

The great outdoors

Paddling the PotomacAs someone who spent most of her life in Amman, I have never been much of an outdoorsy person. It is simple, Amman is not really designed for the outdoors. If you venture north or south you can get the chance to do some hiking here and there, but other than that the choices are pretty limited. As a result, I turned into someone who dreads outdoors sports activities largely because of my lack of experience and general overall clumsiness. The most exhausting outdoor endeavor I ever undertook in the out of doors was skiing in Farraya, Lebanon more than two years ago. Yes I had a great time, but the poor husband spent over four hours teaching me how to ski and I still didn’t really get it.

Skiing at FarrayaIt took me forever to learn the basic steps of skiing and I had more than my share of falls. In addition, I made sure to inform everyone who was skiing in Farraya that day of my presence
by bumping into them and making them lose their balance and plunge directly into
the snow.
I must admit, though, I had a great time despite all the embarrassment I experienced. Yesterday marked another day of outdoor activity for me. As it happened to be the Memorial Day holiday, we decided to go to the Potomac River with our friend euroarabe.

This time the outdoors was canoeing — a first for me. I was relegated to the middle of the boat with the husband and eurorarabe occupying the back (or sternman) and the front (bowman) positions respectively. I have to admit, I did not have to do much rowing, as the bulk of the work was assigned primarily to the front and the back-end rowers. However, I did get hold of a paddle and decided to help out. I thought it was pretty impressive that I did not manage to flip the boat, as I’d been dreading. Somehow I managed to stay balanced, against all odds.

Cruising the Potomac River and looking over at the city of Washington was simply stunning. The weather was also perfect and everyone around us seemed to be enjoying their time on such a warm summer day. Would I do it again? In a heart beat.

The wonders of blogging

One of the few perks about having a blog (and believe me they are few, as I primarily get yelled at on this blog) is meeting people. Yes, through Mental Mayhem I’ve gotten the chance to meet — offline — a number of fascinating and interesting individuals.

The most recent encounter was meeting reader "Scooby," who has been following this humble blog for over a year now. Scooby, a Jordanian living in the US, happened to be in our neck of the woods during this Memorial Day weekend so he contacted me hoping that we could meet up. Scooby was kind enough to invite us to a family BBQ and we gladly accepted. We had a great time in every sense of the word.

Not only did we get to meet a number of Jordanians, Palestinians and other nationals who live in the area, but we ate wonderful food and had fascinating discussions. We also got the chance to meet the Mrs. Scooby and some of Scooby’s friends. There was never a lull in then conversation or an awkward moment. We talked and interacted as if we’d known each other forever. We will definitely keep in touch and work to build this into a long-lasting relationship. Ah, the wonders of blogging!

Gay parade in Lebanon

A gay parade in Lebanon For people routinely harassed and sometimes arrested by the Lebanese authorities, it was refreshing to be able to attend a public event without fear of being detained. But the gun-toting policemen standing outside the hotel were not there to carry out a raid against the dozens of people who had gathered inside for the press conference by the gay rights organization, Helem. Instead, the police were there to ensure the safety of the event.

The press conference part of a three-day event organized by Helem to coincide with International Day Against Homophobia, which marks the day in May 1990 on which the World Health Organization took homosexuality off its list of mental disorders. Source: [BBC]

Frankly, I never thought I would live to see the day when Arab homosexuals could organize a public event and talk about the fact that they do exist. But then again Lebanon is different. Perhaps this was bound to happen. My opinion: Good for them!

Meanwhile, Al Arabiya covered the event [Arabic] but alleged that the organizers of the parade were showing "porn movies." The head of the organization, Helem (‘Dream’ in Arabic), that put together the event denied the accusation, saying that what was shown were social movies about the status of homosexuals in Lebanon and the Arab world.

A pleasant encounter

There was nothing particularly eventful about yesterday except for one brief, significant incident that will certainly be told for generations to come. The incident took place while the husband and I were on the road in our quiet little neighborhood in Maryland.

While stopping at the traffic right I noticed a man in the car besides us looking in our direction and waving cheerfully. I rolled down my window to find out what he was trying to tell me. To my surprise the man spoke with me in Arabic, saying: "Are you from Madaba?" At first, I was speechless then I realized this man knew where I come from simply from our car tag, which proudly bears the name of my hometown."Yes I am," I said happily and introduced myself.

"I’m from Ram Allah but we have many friends from Madaba," he said while pointing to his wife, who was sitting besides him smiling. We conversed briefly. We talked about our jobs, where we live and our mutual relatives all in the span of barely a minute before the traffic light turned green. We said our goodbyes and then went our separate ways. What a pleasant encounter!