Munib, sensorimotor period

Oh! . . .the Po Po?

2007-06-27T00:22:00.000+08:00

This blog is now mostly defunct, but I will stop to report an epic example of the: 'but wait, I'm a tourist' defense. Unfortunately it involved an implicit understanding that, I find switches with more than two settings challenging and talking and breathing are mutually exclusive activities, but beggars being choiceless. . .

I was driving up-mountain at midnight, and discovered a piffling rental-car Getz pootling up the mountain at a leisurely 35 km/h and observing the lack of traffic I made a poor decision, I overtook, perhaps slightly (decidedly) illegally.

The rental car in question lost it's mind: High beams, hazards, indicators, horn - I put it down to a mad driver and continued. . . at the next red light the same crazy violently pulls in front and starts to get out, I conclude that a beating is in store, and so ease out and around and continue . . . I am now on a one way street, a narrow one, and the same lunatic keeps pulling alongside, where there is decidedly limited room. At this point I decided that I would simply keep driving until Russel Crowe calmed down. . .

Then as the road clears, and Getz moves along side I get a glimpse of a light-blue shirt and a navy braid, I stop.

I had been in an epic police chase without having ever known, and as a plus, my explanation of self-interested self-preservation; whilst not enjoyed by the be-'stached officer was somehow believable, and so all I got was a broken Englished 'eh-selowh down' the only problem being that the chase never crested 55 km/h.

Win!

'Akka/Acre/Akko - old place

2007-05-03T13:40:00.000+08:00

The endless excited squeals that emit from anyone from the BWC when you mention 'the old city' forced me to independantly investigate the reason for this mass production of porcine noise. . . So girding up my backpack I set off.
I took the blue/white sherut from the Hadar in Haifa to a point just off the main highway, and deautoed in a semi-urban (or conversely: part-rural) and unimpressive spittle of a suburb, and hoofed (hooved? - considering you have two legs) it towards the medditerannean.
Two arid kilometers later the sea breeze met me, and followed along as I walked the shore southwards, passing by halfhearted cadavers of failed beachfront eateries and a deserted promenade, the first thing of note was a statue to (I assume - Hebrew is poorly taught in Australian schools) the zionists who fought for the state Israel (O.K. so my assumption is quite specific, but blithe is constitutional).
Then shortly I hit something old, a massive wall of hewn stones rising out of the sea, easily older than your grandest parents, yet still defiantly resisting the surge of generations, protecting the city from long vanquished foes. (This city saw it all, from the Hospitalier Templars to Saladin, Ottomans, Romans, Egyptians - and they all left clear traces, part reason for the city's awesomeness [in block capitals, bold and underlined]).

The houses at the border of the old/new city divied are a mishmash, some constructed by (part)professional builders others with the steel-sheeted chic of a slum, in varying tones of garish and drab. Walk past the Citadel, and the corner of the house of 'Abbud, and enter a tunnel, leading to the ancient burrow of the Old City.

'Abbud to the left, random building to the right, madness: dead ahead.

I can't do it justice, nor express my amazement that this place still exists and as a super bonus; is inhabited. It's a set from a movie, an unreal place, it's the 11th through 17th centuries in vivid seething technicolor. It's feudal.

the top archway is actually a mini garden!!

I (characteristically) acheived a absurd amount of touristing/rubbernecking.
From the templar tunnel (they were tough old buzzards)

beware the ancient crusader curse of the fading hands

the Citadel

with the clastrophobating sewage tunnel underneath (age anything and you'll find people to marvel at it)

to the Al Jazzar Mosque

and the seminal bazzar which is not seen but survived, you exit - bewildered and dusted with the competing odours of smoke/fish/overripe citrus.
My face: split in a lopsided grin - my kind of place then.

I escaped (which is no mean feat, ask the souls of many thousands of invaders over several millenia). Far later than I had planned, reeking, soiled and thouroghly excited, and though I was in no condition to go to the Shrine of Baha'u'llah I went to the Bahjí visitor centre to rest before returing home and came across Haimish and Janita and after chin wagging extensively, collapsed at home (for 40 minutes, then went out for a talk).

More photo's here:

The appelation found in Shoghi Effendi's 'God Passes By':

'Akká, itself, flanked by the "glory of Lebanon," and lying in full view of the "splendor of Carmel," at the foot of the hills which enclose the home of Jesus Christ Himself, had been described by David as "the Strong City," designated by Hosea as "a door of hope," and alluded to by Ezekiel as "the gate that looketh towards the East," whereunto "the glory of the God of Israel came from the way of the East," His voice "like a noise of many waters." To it the Arabian Prophet had referred as "a city in Syria to which God hath shown His special mercy," situated "betwixt two mountains ... in the middle of a meadow," "by the shore of the sea ... suspended beneath the Throne," "white, whose whiteness is pleasing unto God." "Blessed the man," He, moreover, as confirmed by Bahá'u'lláh, had declared, "that hath visited 'Akká, and blessed he that hath visited the visitor of 'Akká." Furthermore, "He that raiseth therein the call to prayer, his voice will be lifted up unto Paradise." And again: "The poor of 'Akká are the kings of Paradise and the princes thereof. A month in 'Akká is better than a thousand years elsewhere."

(Shoghi Effendi, God Passes By, p. 184)

Spot the difference

2007-04-17T23:25:00.000+08:00

Elapsed time from first-to-second photo? about 20minutes, (O.K. perhaps 8 hours, but thats 'cause I had work to do, but it could have been).

Speed gardening: the next olympic sport.

Here

2007-04-17T23:18:00.000+08:00

. . .many of the buildings have been put up recently, and quite quickly, so, occasionally some things are forgotten, and others added as an afterthought.

Enter the plumbing from hell:

Spring

2007-04-17T23:13:00.000+08:00

. . .has sprung, and it's pretty exciting when you're surrounded by a huge mass of garden

Non sequitur

2007-04-01T03:13:00.000+08:00

Caaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrraaaa!!

and non-relevant to the above is one of the greatest parts of being a guard, at the end of one of our Evening shifts, so somewhere around midnight we have evening prayers, where as a team we circumambulate the Shrine and say prayers when we are halfway around. Just us, noone else, The Báb and 'Abdu'l-Bahá all to ourselves, in a manner of speaking.
Suffice to say it is (insert superlative here)-great.

Team Glory!!

Procrastofantastic

2007-04-01T02:55:00.000+08:00

As noted by many (two) of you, this blog has recently stalled, this can be attributed directly to a genral ratcheting up of my enjoyment of service, and increased work responsibilites which leave me with less time and less inclination to document my life - I am busy with living it.

So, taking the enjoyment/posting relationship to its logical end: anyone who demands more posts will be stigmatised as a terrible spoilsport and a pleasure miser, who wishes to see me mopey too.

Drifting along, one of the sites of interest for Bahá'ís in the Haifa area are the buildings that makeup the Masters house (the house of 'Abdu'l-Bahá) and the buildings surrounding, on Haparsim and Iran streets (Haparsim: roughly equating 'the parsee' or 'the persian') (and Iran street [obviously]).

Then

Now

Did I mention that I love walking down here?

The Bahá'í World Centre

2007-02-26T02:08:00.000+09:00

If you've not got any initiative, then you'll not know anything about the BWC (other) than what I have described, and up 'till now i've just assumed, so if you don't know, then wander across here, at least you'll get an idea of the layout of my hangout - I am enamoured of Wikipedia.I live on the road that turns back on itself, (and which illogically changes its name at the point of flexion) to the left of the ITC (the leftmost [westmost {or westernmost} {most most} ] -but back to the point - located impressively close to the arc, I love my flat. That is all.

Sweet people. . .

2007-02-26T01:29:00.000+09:00

Considering most of my life has been largely hermitacular ([spectacularly] like unto, or resembling a hermit) so it's strange that the few people that I know come to visit, recently the Mahmoudi's came, before that Janfaza and the Keshavarzes and also Dere and sundry Munib-initiates.

Israel is as far as can be from Perth before you start heading back, maybe mum is sending operatives to checkup on progress.

With the Mahmoudi's we wandered all 'round the mountain and then after visiting the house of the Master, I took part in a Mahmoudi family tradition, a shwarma vendor that they've been patronising :) since the early eighties - with good reason, even the gristle was tender.
To further the gastronomic outing we tumbled, roly-poly to Israels finest Baklavaery and decided that most-everything was to our fancy.

Meal for one?

These people understand me.

I've heard of dry ice. . .

2007-02-26T01:04:00.000+09:00

Why? why?
In orange, upper right - 'Dry' - salt is universally dry.

(not dry = sea water, non?)

Give Me

2007-02-21T04:45:00.000+09:00

MORE, MORE, MORE!

Jack the Jackal

2007-02-17T01:03:00.000+09:00

To put it in the words of one of the local workers:

'we run a small zoo in here, the animals were here before you, and they'll be here when you leave'' and therefore 'leave them alone and you'll leave alive, ken?'

maybe he was a bit melodramatic, but being on/in/around the grounds more often than the trees, you do experience the type of wildlife that takes refuge in the large swath of greenery that we have in the middle of a city.

The Jackal is probably the least pleasant of them (though the crass cry of a raven after a night shift will give you bloodlust).

NO, they aren't cute, and they have these little sing-fests at night, and their eerie yet annoying call sounds roughly like an emasculated coyote.

Let me elucidate:
patrolling through the memorial gardens, 3:00 AM, your bodily functions are at their lowest ebb, the moon is MIA, and feeling macho (syn: foolish) you haven't a flashlight handy.
Then you hear a hurried patter, the fall of feet, a swift brush on a hedge, all bravado leeches out of your right shoe, you do the only thing you can think of, holler at the trespasser to halt (within earshot of Holy places, plural). A lifetime (of seconds) later the eerie silhouette of a dog passing between you and the muted glow of reflected streetlights.

Suddenly enfeebled but thankful you collapse, and crumpled say a quick prayer, and get back to work.

I know its not spring, but

2007-02-17T00:52:00.000+09:00

I've developed a bit of a unusual (almost unnatural) affection for the archives building, and so may be sharing what to the unenamoured may seem trivial, but then being popular was never my game (Life: 44 vs. Munib: 3)."The decorative design of this tympanum was chosen from many others, and it had been the original idea of Shoghi Effendi. He charged me to secure many suggestions from the leading architects in Rome, and I applied to the Dean of the School of Architecture of that University, who himself, after a few weeks, provided some drawings, several with arabesque ornamentations, and others with more unconventional motives. When the sun rises every morning in the east its beams strike this beautiful and original frieze, which, as if it possesses an inner power, comes alive in a blaze of light."
(Ugo Giachery, Shoghi Effendi - Recollections, p. 158)

Yay!

God is in the. . .

2007-02-17T00:33:00.000+09:00

Ok, so you're a skeptic - you see pictures like this and you think: 'well, surely it can't be that glorious . . .'
and lets say you justify it by thinking that broad strokes, when viewed from a distance look brilliant, after all an oil painting viewed up close is hideous.

Parry and thrust:
with a kilometer of terraced gardens, extending some considerable distance either side of spectacular terraces, the lovely little gardners manage to adorn it with flourishes like this:
Those gardeners, dears that they are - instead of say. . . doing nothing, or filling gap with concrete, tenderly nurtured a perfectly tailored/trimmed hedge in what normal people would consider an inconsequential part of the whole.

God bless their little OCD hearts.

International Archives Building

2007-02-09T19:36:00.000+09:00

The picture bellow excited a desire to know something of how/with what intent it was constructed.
It represented, in a general manner, a Greek temple reminiscent of the Parthenon, and also of temples in Paestum near Salerno, Italy, and in Agrigento in Sicily. The style was Ionic and showed a monumental and spacious building.
(Ugo Giachery, Shoghi Effendi - Recollections, p. 148)

When the first completed column was erected in my presence in the yard of the laboratory in Chiampo, I could not believe my eyes; its beauty and perfection were beyond any possible imagination! The men who had done the work stood around to see the expression on my face. For a moment I felt it was only a mirage, a sort of dream produced by my fantasy, but when I looked again on the faces of those humble workers, waiting for a word of praise and appreciation, I felt a great and intimate joy.
(Ugo Giachery, Shoghi Effendi - Recollections, p. 158)

Another important element in the completion of the building was the gabled roof and its covering. The ancient Greeks, and the Romans after them, used timber to make this type of roof and then covered it with heavy copper laminae. After exposure to nature's elements it assumed a sort of cobalt-green colour which, in temperate climates, sometimes blended with the colour of the sky. Shoghi Effendi wished to have the Archives covered by such a roof, but he would not consider the use of copper because of the danger that the marble might be stained by the metal's oxide during the sometimes torrential rains in the Holy Land. It was decided therefore to use fired clay tiles, glazed to the hue of ancient copper. The firm Westraven, of Utrecht, Holland, was again consulted, and experiments were made to prepare several samples of colour from which Shoghi Effendi could choose. The important point was that the tiles should be similar in size and shape to those used in ancient times. Nearness to the wealth of archaeologic antiquities in Italy made it possible for me to find the most authentic model. Drawings were then prepared to scale and the tile factory made a few samples for the Guardian's approval. When this was received, a contract was signed in Utrecht, on 6 June 1956, to produce 7,892 tiles sufficient to cover the five hundred square metres of roof.
(Ugo Giachery, Shoghi Effendi - Recollections, p. 158)

The book from which the quotes are derived, though at time quite dry and technical illustrates what a labor of love the building was, built as an (''archive of the Faith in which relics and Writings would be gathered and preserved for posterity'') and if you have any interest

(Ugo Giachery, Shoghi Effendi - Recollections, p. 138)

Benefits

2007-02-09T19:30:00.000+09:00

There are some fringe benefits to being ambulant ludicrously early.

Shhhh, I hear I could be up for tax fraud for not declaring.

Hungry?

2007-02-09T19:24:00.000+09:00

I was,
am now sick,
perhaps I can root around and see if there is a Vomitorium about. . .

'Sif

2007-02-09T19:01:00.000+09:00

Being cheap, I was on one of my frequent overlong walks through 'distant' parts of Haifa.
I believe it to be character building and also adding a depth to my exposure to a country/people half a world from my own that over-efficiency of time would cull. And so I came across this street,

My reaction garnered many stares, also the street perpendicular to 'as if' much resembles a descriptive curse in Persian. (omitted for reasons of blog cleanliness)

Oh the odds, the odds.

(maybe it's named for one of Shriv's spiritual forbears)

Weather may vary

2007-02-08T01:58:00.000+09:00

Yesterday on terrace 19 I surveyed all of Haifa as it spread out before me, a glorious sight, and one unfamiliar to those from places where the contour lines are more spread out.

I saw three seasons.
AT ONE TIME

and it also was conducive to some pretty awesome shots, stuff like thisand also I saw patches of isolated rain off in the distance,
and then suddenly I was being deluged, and then hailed on, so I retreated indoors, where I remained, until today, where the weather became really nice,

Note to Mr. Nino: it's the middle of winter.

Can you justify calling a season 'winter' if it . . . simply. . . isn't

Top Gear: Bugatti Veyron maxxed out

2007-02-07T05:34:00.001+09:00

The reason for the industrial revolution and the finest fruit of the internal combustion engine. . . watch it for my sake, even get a better internet connection for its sake alone.

TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP GEEEEEEEEEEEAR!

YEEEEEEHARRR!

man child

2007-02-07T04:36:00.000+09:00

I have taken studying God Passes By as a serious goal of my year of service, (not a light perusal - indeed if such a thing were possible for Shogi Effendi's work) and one of the prophecies, (an excerpt from the Bible) was amazing, not in a spiritual sense, but rather in my backwards rediscovery of some english

the topic is the term 'man child'

My initial interaction with the term was with Shriv who used (it) to describe (in unchecked adulation) several rugby players and rowers in our Highschool 1st teams.
As an Australian colloquialism (I gathered) that it describes youth who have the characteristics of fully mature Adults, predominantly their physical characteristics.

So I was dumbstruck to find that somehow this semi-logical snippet of informal English had/s its origins some millenia ago.

I am also gleaning more edifying knowledge aplenty - but the inane does amuse me so.

12:5 And she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up unto God, and to his throne.

(King James Bible, Revelation)

It hurts, hurts like fire!

2007-02-02T01:14:00.000+09:00

This is ridiculous, I come from Perth, this constitutes cruel and unusual punishment, every time that one stair is surmounted it seemingly summons its friends, calls for backup, to send searing waves of pain stabbing, coursing through already damaged muscle tissue.

The stairs end (for about 10 meters) at the red line

Dearest Peers

2007-01-31T09:29:00.000+09:00

Though I can't think that anyone from Uni would read this but even if they don't, I think it should be extant,

About a week ago a large quivering morass of fear laced, theory-rich, experience-poor students, were unwillingly thrust into real actual hospitals, with real actual patients, poor suckers. . .

How I envy them.

More exciting pictures of the Shrine!!!!!!

2007-01-28T00:35:00.000+09:00

"the installment of an electric plant, the first of its kind established in the city of Haifa, flooding with illumination the Grave of One Who, in His own words, had been denied even "a lighted lamp" in His fortress-prison in Adhirbayjan; the construction of three additional chambers adjoining His sepulcher, thereby completing 'Abdu'l-Bahá's plan for the first unit of that Edifice; the vast extension, . . . of the properties surrounding that resting-place, sweeping from the ridge of Carmel down to the Templar colony nestling at its foot"

(Shoghi Effendi, God Passes By, p. 345)

This picture was so close to greatness, the clouds were arrayed about the dome, the birds were in mid-flight, but the lighting, well, maybe some other day.

My Freezer

2007-01-28T00:22:00.000+09:00

Unimpressed? perhaps not the most remarkable sights of ones life, however when I inherited the 'fridge, it came with a legacy, there was so much frost, that if we had a blackout, our frozen foods would have remained so for a week.
It was essentially a high tec ice box of the early 20th century. Why remove this useful aftermarket extra you say?
Because it was at a stage where we were storing some food with the ice, the stalictites/mites meant that we had 1/3rd of the original volume and a 2 in 3 chance of getting our hands stuck. And if we did have a blackout, the next person to open the freezer would be greeted by a deluge of icy/filthy water.

It was so imposing that when planning the assault I forgot to take a 'before' shot,

Though I think it is clear how much of a mess it was .

A Princess

2007-01-27T23:33:00.000+09:00

To appreciate the picture below, and my reaction to its subject, you must first know that I and most of those that I associate with socially have tendancies to shorten/change/emphasise syllables in words, especially peoples names, which after a few rounds no longer resemble their original form:

Eric = Reactite Jin
Kian = Koons
Bayan = Boons
Sahel = Safcol
Steven = Ote
Nouranieh = Noori
et-cetera

So one night, during shift I was brewing some tea which I recently purchased from the Russian grocers close by, when I noticed on the flipside of the cryllic characters there was an english translation of the brand name:

Noori: a term of endearment for my mother, often said in joy at her arrival

Needless to say, I guffawed deep into the night at the notion that my mother has a secret Russian tea company, and had modelled herself a princess.

PS: maybe I was very (very) tired.

Picture-esque

2007-01-25T07:14:00.000+09:00

Lots of normal people, who when they come here lose control, they become photography freaks - I've seen some of the most mean looking papparazi-lensed cameras, and strange manouvres/contortions to get the perfect shot with the right framing, all whilst wating for the right time of day, hopefully with no fog et-cetera, but sometimes a simple idea just works, behold:

Here is where I would wax proud about my photographical aptitude, but unfortunately this is another Hamed photo - the brotha' got mad skillz yo'.

Cachaglimpso'that, ovathere!

2007-01-25T06:58:00.000+09:00

On the left (tiled with green and domed in white) is the Seat of the Universal House of Justice, on the right, the Shrine of the Báb.
In the middle; a tornado over the Med - there is no deeper meaning here, just one cool picture.

(I believe there is some structured nomenclature for 'wind storms' depending on where they are in the world, but is all a bit vague in my mind - tornado serves admirably in lieu of correct english).

2007-01-11T04:38:00.000+09:00

Eat late, eat light - clearly I have a problem with authority, that or a weakness for mexican

2007-01-08T19:47:00.000+09:00

Gratuitous sunrise shot - thanks to roomate Hamed Sanai for the photo

(Taken at Terrace Five bridge [over Abbas street] at about 6:45 AM)

B-E-A-ute-iful

2007-01-01T15:50:00.000+09:00

unabashed, unsurpassed, unprecedented, un. . .

Recruits

2007-01-01T15:47:00.000+09:00

This is the new intake of security, God help us (He does)On the roof of the Seat of the House of Justice - a rare privilege

Springfield

2007-01-01T15:45:00.000+09:00

Resebling the cooling towers of everyones favorite yellow peopled cartoon, but in reality for some chemical plant, probably making the air peachy clean for the inhabitants.

Nose

2007-01-01T15:41:00.000+09:00

Not being able to see your profile is an occupational hazard of being yourself - so, until I saw this picture (taken of our orientation group dinner [specifically during some group activity]) I had no idea of the majesty of my nose - It truly is in keeping with my Persian heritage, I am exceedingly proud of it. Who nose?

Hebrew

2007-01-01T15:36:00.000+09:00

Hebrew, being an ancient language with no (obvious) similarity to any germanic or latin language is strange indeed - both in its spoken form and its writing (the words are right-to-left the numbers are left-to-right) but it is not without humor, especially the poor children who want to play with this fisher-and-price-from-hell item: Where I come from, naughts and crosses is a simpler proposition

2007-01-01T15:25:00.000+09:00

This place is organised organised, the repetition is to stress the passion for which excellence is struggled for. There is a group of secretarial staff charged with making sure that all the writing from the BWC is of the standard and style of the World Centre, if absolutely anything is wrong, from being chased by an assailant, your freezer deciding to make ice everywhere except the moulds, you need food, a vaccine, access to your personal acccount, Baha'i books, other books, yoga or a laundromat. They can get it, fix it or tell you why not, right there - the buck is forever stopped. To my reckoning only one mistake has been made - a truly vast oversight, behold: Maybe it's the British version?

Working? What?

2007-01-01T15:17:00.000+09:00

Clearly I spend far too much time changing the settings on my camera and holding extremely still (I have mastered my breathing) to take the perfect low-light shot with minimal blur and without tripod

Clearly, if anyone knew the amount of on shift time was dedicated to these two shots I would be sent home for frittering away the resources of the Baha'i World Centre, or I'd get appointed as the official BWC photographer.

I still love you. . .

2007-01-01T14:44:00.000+09:00

Its not that I have stopped loving you, rather my currrent reliance on an extremely inefficient person to organise all the minutae that makes up daily existance. At home many of these tasks were delegated to different munib-support staff.

Here - not so.

I have however been busy recording all of my exploits, pictorally and in writing (unbeleivably I am using the notebook - Carly). And will add a new type of post to the blog - Vignettes (of Haifa: short and exciting tales of my time here).

If you count, five layers of clothing = the most, ever

Currently though I am the embodiment of fatigue, I have finished my last night shift and haven't slept, just to write to you, (special special you) (local time 8:22 AM) so again you must be patient, until I get inter-ma-net at my house for the torrent of experiences I've collected in the past month, but just to keep you mustard some picto-commentaries will follow.

Huggles,
Munib

OUT!

2006-12-25T13:40:00.000+09:00

The past few posts have been uninspired and more lame than Long John Silver, needless to say the responsible party has been fired - the next few blogs will be of the standard.

That is all

NB

2006-12-25T00:04:00.000+09:00

there are many espellink errors in my posts, this is because they reflect my natural aptitude for words - nil, and I've yet to work out how to operate the spell-check.

FFWD

2006-12-24T23:31:00.000+09:00

Ok so while lots of things apart from my unique experience of Amsterdam occurred but they are marginally interesting, you had to be there type moments, so fast forward to Israel.

Firstly, there is poor excitement to be had for a car enthusiast, apperently cars cost much. Much more here than anywhere else - fullstop. So I've lowered my standards, recently a new BMW 330i drew my feverish adoration.

Ugh

Anyhoo any decent cars are unlikely to stay that way. Here, using the indicator stalk seems to be regarded as a sin, lane holding is a foreign concept (i.e. only foreigners hold lanes), people like to straddle the line, and then make up their mind later (a lane lay-buy). Cutting people off is a demonstration of skill and dering-do, and my personal favorite - the use of the horn, so far as I have translated, this archaic Israeli tradition can mean:

Hey, you, careful!

I am going to merge (erratically)

Erratic driving move in three. . .

Ooh, you look nice

Hey look, a cat

Yes!

I am happy today

I know you, hello

Wanna lift? (used by Sherut's and Taxi's)

Look, the sky is blue

= a Sherut, a big taxi that follows the bus routes and costs less, so really a small bus run by an owner/operator.

Everything requires them to use the horn, I should start a horn service business.

Amsterdam Three

2006-12-14T04:34:00.000+09:00

Ate the double fried chips of some international acclaim (My Aorta would like to thank Carly)
Saw the Amsterdam diamond exchange
Noted many tour boats, decided I needed the euros in my pocket
Went into a canal-side market thinking that I could buy some overpriced trinkets to commemorate my visit, found out that the whole entire market (it being of considerable size) sold only tulip bulbs.
Must've gone past Anne Franke house, couldn't find it, decided close enough is foine.
Walked past the botanical gardens.
Tried to find a truly Dutch cafe to eat some of the renowned pastries, all of them emanated an unplesant odour, understood why the country requires so many eateries. Slightly nauseated, went to a pizza parlour.
Walked past Rembrant's house, did not enter, not because of my tight fisted nature, by this time it was closed, and my feet were losing their valiant battle with the everpresent Dutch puddle, understood why they traditionally wear wooden shoes.

As I was hobbling back to the train station I passed through the red-light district, by this time it was twilight (I had been walking for ~11 hours) and while I only caught sideways glances though my rain spotted glasses, it was enough, my painful amble became an urgent stride, I needed to get outta dodge. Ive seen more presentable Australian cricketers.

Amsterdam Two

2006-12-14T03:56:00.000+09:00

After the sun reticently rose, I set off for the the first point of interest on the tourist map the Rijkmuseum where the art of many of the Dutch masters of the golden age are housed (according to the patriotic dutch tourist guide). Being uncultured, I had little interest - but plenty of time, so I proceded, slowly, but dutifully and came across a slightly impressive building:

In which the most amazing thing happened, I lost my composure, and frankly stared, terms that had previously meant nothing; texture, style, detail, layering, lighting all accurately portraying what one might see in life, vivid - representing months of painstaking work on a single canvas

If you don't get 'art' a quick jaunt down to the local rijks may well change you.

Amsterdam

2006-12-14T00:42:00.000+09:00

Amsterdam - I was on Dutch soil for only 15 hours, but I managed to do more than any intelligent person would attempt in any working week.

The plane touched down at about 5:50 am, and after all the hassles of getting our of the airport and the embarrasment of being caught brushing my teeth by the janitor, I took the train to Amsterdam central - noone told me that nothing is open, and the sun rises at 9 am.

Itwas seven, bitterly cold, raining, and dark - for some reason I thought that I could tackle general winter head on, and decide that a two-hour jaunt in the rain, with a Perth jacket will be a capital idea, I set off through the narrow cobblestone streets of 'the Venice of the north.'

Picturesque? perhaps - painfully frigid? positive.

Fifty minutes forward: back at the train station, crestfallen and defeated, my hands respond only feebly to my mind, my nose makes like a leaky tap, where the puddle ends and my shoes begin is vague.
European winter: a more formidible foe than I had envisaged.

I took a drastic step: the jacket - a bright, puffy and yellow obscenity which I had thought was the height of couture in year eleven. I decided I was an abject imbecile in year eleven and donned it.

The first thing I discovered about the Netherlands is that they have the finest bakeries. Anywhere. I purchase a bacon bagel, only for the irony but find myself going back for several more, the dutch lady behind the counter eyes me suspiciously, I blithely continue to slobber everywhere as I down more of the painfully-warm bagels.

Have to go to my orientation dinner, more to follow. . .

Whooooh!

2006-12-08T23:01:00.000+09:00

Finally I have managed to finagle the iner-ma-net and begin the 'official' part of the blog (validated by the fact that I am now actually in Haifa cf. before, at home).

Excusing that I have drool on my lower lip.

So, Whooh! noone, no one travels like me, I manage to pack so much more pain and embarrasment into what normal people find a simple process of making a couple of flights.

Many stories to tell, so to facilitate the creative process i'll be blogging chronogically, so - you'll be living the trip with me (insert poor joke about 'buckling up' here) and it'll also let me get my thoughts in order.

To whet your appetite, the following are only some of the activities of Munib in the week that was:

Walked for two hours, in the pre-dawn wet/cold of amsterdam
Stepped in-to and out-of many (legal, though disreputable) cafes in amsterdam
Fled, (in tears) the red-light district of amsterdam
Understood why Rembrandt is a master
Was robbed. . . for my toothpaste
Resembled a bright yellow Michelin man
Developed osteomyelitis
Consumed more baked goods than is healthy or advisable
Walked more than 30km in a day, between connecting flights
Took approx. 600mb of pictures of the Bahaí World Centre
Walked up more stairs than should exist, globally.

And in case you were wondering where I am, and how rapturously beautiful it is:

Mount Carmel, Haifa, Israel - we've got gardeners.

funny or morally reprehensible?

2006-11-23T23:20:00.000+08:00

One day, during study break I was ranting (a fairly common and harmless Munib trait) - to both my sister and a friend of hers (Loobna, going forward).

Loobna on the left

I was (and still am) dissatisfied with the appaling english of some myspace sites, and not say someone with a LOTE background, usually the perpetrators of these henious crimes of engrrish (chext it out, homes) are teenagers from countries where an education is free and compulsory.

Loobna seized this opportunitity to make a nuisance of herself and made it into quite a pet project, instead of doing anything useful with her life, she created this.

NB: I
hate
ballons

If you have not clicked the link, do so now.

Though I must feign disdain to maintain the moral high ground - she did manage to involve almost everything that I dislike in the one page, sexual innuendo, hip-hop, Daihatsu's and an air of self love. I was aghast (but queerly impressed), but worse was yet to come.

People I have known for a while (read: from womb) came across it and commented positively, this means that they:

Didn't pickup that I couldn't make such a site - even as a joke
And celebrated that I am, apparently a degenerate moron

Instead of lambasting it, and then hunting me down for an impromptu lynching

Congratulations, your names have been noted and you have been taken down several notches in my book, myspace is very much for losers.

Youth Year of Service

2006-11-16T22:45:00.000+08:00

For anyone who developed a nervous tic at not knowing what the YYOS was when reffered to previously, relax deliverance is at hand.

The whole idea is tied in with being a Bahá'í, (a subject of perhaps another post) but I've traced its genesis (if by traced I mean Oceaned) to the Universal House of Justice (the elected governing body of the Bahá'í Faith) I Quote:

"Let it, therefore, never be imagined that youth must await their years of maturity before they can render invaluable services to the Cause of God."

(The Universal House of Justice, 1966 Jun 10, Youth in Every Land)

The idea being that most of the greatest achivements of the Bahá'í faith were those of youth (Tahireh, The Báb or Shoghi Effendi being a few examples [NB: Wikipedia can be changed by any boor, the stories were roughly accurate at the time of posting]).

So what has this got to do with the price of cheese in kenya, or Munib kicking back on the medditeranean for a year while his peers eat pure (unseasoned) 4th year?

Well not much, but the idea is that I know nothing, whatsoever, about life.

If your amount of 'idea of life' is related to experience, my life is: the library, my room and Stirling highway.

They got it wrong: ignorance isn't bliss, it's Munib.

So being the kind of proactive individual that I am (read: liar, it took me 3 years to fill out my application form - people aspire to my levels of organisation) I got to looking, and it seems the finest place is:

I'm glad you agree, the above place is the resting place of The Báb and its one of the sites that I'll be (in a very small) part responsible for the security of (the job in security also ties well with the fact that I am, in fact a superhero [more on my delusions later]). (more pictures to admire here)

If I didn't go, its possible that the world wouldn't end (though my Id disagrees), but the point is that hopefully being in and around some of the most special places and people in the world, taking classes, working 'proper' for the first time in my life (i.e. not for my father) I may just become less of a moran and know more of myself (sniff). But don't count on it.

Missing, and much missed

2006-11-14T22:51:00.000+08:00

Suddenly it struck me, Ive not written about cars.

This caused me to take a serious look at my priorities, and redress all of my activities to date which has seen me not don my anorak. Oversights aside, here is the story of a Ferrari F430 and one delusional hoon.

One mild August day saw I (your intrepid protagonist) running up my exceedingly long-and-uphill driveway, as I crested the final segment - I sensed a disturbance, I looked up:I comprehended not, yet found myself sprinting towards the fezza pumping my arms and hollering like an escaped psychotic with EPS, the white-capped-and-haired driver and his copilot glanced in my direction,
he sensed my intent - he flexed his right foot.

The low seismic rumble built to a devastating crescendo, it ceased to be mechanical - it had emotion, it was fury. The fezza inhaled the horison.

The phrase 'out of sight' is meaningless, I can still hear it today.
As my heart slowed to a less dangerous pace, I stood wiping blood from my lobes grinning crazily. As I dealt with my good fortune and set off towards the river, I made one solemn plea: Please God, more.

I warmed up, feeling my portion of luck had been exhausted for the year, but then, suddenly the birds stopped twittering, the loud brap-brap of a double downshift resonated through me, I swiftly Immelmaned and set off pell-mell with loud war whoops toward my quarry.

The driver calmly noted my presence, (and probably finding it bothersome) doubletasked, he put distance between us and drowned out my war cry.
After which I continued with my run, never has a run been so easy.

NB: The blue convertible is very likely the object of my adoration as this, lets face it, is Perth - and a suchly appointed weapon would be on the ugly side of half a million $AUD

PS: Ive slapped myself several times, and promise (my adulating readership [hi mom]) to keep myself focussed - more to come my 98 ron friends.

Baggage

2006-11-14T21:54:00.000+08:00

I hate objects, items, things - less ambigously, I resent the matter of matter that we must paste to ourselves, the things we simply cannot do without:

Phones
Purses - Wallets - Clutch bags
Keys
Watch
Ring
Pens - Pencils
Reams of Lecture notes
Laptops
Asstd Crud

(Though my respect for the incalculable logistics of some purses - the positively Aladdins cave-esque ones; the - how ever did you accomodate so much into that tiny bag? My esteem is unbounded).

Nevertheless, one item has particularily struck my fancy:
The new shuffle is small, if the nano (one billionth) even deserves the term, then this is at least femto (one quadrillionth [- the preceding is actually a term!]) and for one diametrically opposed to clutter'n'stuff, this is probably as momentus a moment for my life as the moon landing is to old people.

That being said, I've not made it work yet. When I do, i'll likely lose it - such is life.

HIV; who? Not me

2006-11-07T23:13:00.000+08:00

One of the requirements of going to Haifa for my year of service include (on a totally non-spiritual front) to prove to the medical staff that I am relatively disease free, amongst other things this means that:

Thats right, I have proof, Do you?

Also I will post about the gist of a year of service as soon as this-bear-that-is-medicine gets off my neck (~136 hours, but who's counting?)

Pah!(th)

2006-11-03T14:06:00.000+08:00

As this blog has few posts you have little in the way of context, however stay with me.
I am currently wading nipple high in pathology, it is: The medical science, and specialty practice, concerned with all aspects of disease. However to anyone on my side of omnicinent, its a monster, its closest relative is: the Lernaean Hydra, an ancient nameless serpent-like chthonic water beast with many heads (a fearsome beast you'll agree), furthermore - if any of the heads were severed another would grow in its place. To continue the ancient theme: it manages to be heavily Sisyphusian with shameful streaks of Quixote.
Currently the billabong of Haematology has emptied to the bayou of Cardiology, and while I proffess to be deeply in love with my degree, I fail to see how the changes that occur 72 hours after a heart attack when veiwed through an electron microscope are supposed to titilate; well anyone (a cardiologist just slapped an intern and Dr. Yu added four pages to his notes).
NB: I know this is a light microscope slide (couldn't find an EM image online) however whilst we are on the topic, all H&E slides look exactly the same, the lecturer points to a cell and says, this is a . . . cell, its is a characteristic sign of . . . disease, you accept it and memorise names, but your dark secret, the one that never came out in games of spin the (queen square) tendon hammer.
You could not:

pick that cell out of a line up
give point-zero-five of a hoot if you never saw it again

Excuse me while I go build voodoo dolls of various staff.

Here I am

2006-10-23T00:48:00.000+08:00

I find myself here, (figuratively) at ~1am 2 weeks out from exams, boy I am daft.

A Porsche Cayman S and I:
My date of choice at the med ball,
sporting the carrera classic rims
and the sports chrono pack while
Munib accessorises with a double
helping of goofy.

My intentions are as follows:

To provide those who care (a euphemism for my Mother) with updates on my progress in my year of service in Haifa (i'll explain later)
Ramble about cars. . . . . indefinitely
Write about anything exciting from my education (limited posts)
Post about things/people/practices which irk me (many posts)
Reserving the right to stick to as many, or abrogate all of the above, adding categories at will and generally running amok