1 September 2010
The rain beats incessantly, all too reminiscent of the previous Polish spring; with flooding river banks, damp kisses and soaking wet midnight bike rides. The lighting is about the same, the temperature constant with the memories which seem to nullify the very existence of this summer. This all creates a strange eeriness I can't quite wrap my mind around.
Alone in my friend's apartment, I have spent the rainy evening watching films. The first was an indie film titled; Brief Interviews with Hideous Men – the second; The Stoning of Soyara M. The first is about a female graduate student, left broken hearted by her lover she attempts to sort out why men are so... well, mental. Why they tell us one thing, and then do another – why they are so terrified of what they claim to want the most. I was amused, 'briefly'. The second was a film about a couple of Iranian women – and well, as the title suggests – you know all too well how this story ends. It made my first film feel so frivolous – the questions posed... so irrelevant. Yet at the same time I struggled with the irrelevance – as this first film is my culture – the problems western women face – as irrelevant as they may feel or in fact be – they are ours – and yes, are problems I would much rather be afflicted with, than of the women of Iran.
In between my film watching, I have had yet another circular conversation regarding the controversy surrounding the Muslim cultural center at “ground zero”, and a request from my favorite Canadian ginger freak to move to the west coast and rest content and carefree in the land of maple syrup and happy jovial bliss.... I have also been kindly requested to venture a bit further west, to Hawaii – the land of rainbows and eternally smiling islanders. The people I love the most rest peacefully in this small corner of the planet – and really, I would love nothing more than to share in their lives, to see their shining faces every day and live in their worlds. However, something else pulls at me that I can't quite explain. At the moment it's the desert - life in the Middle East fascinates me to no end. Despite the fact that I can't stand the heat, (overheating is one of my least favorite occurrences and is something that makes me feel altogether utterly insane). Life without green, without an abundance of flowers and trees is practically traumatizing, isolation – intimidating, and lack of total, uninhibited female freedom - defies all I know... so perhaps this partially answers my question. Like a sick fascination with swimming with sharks or jumping out of airplanes – I crave to walk the streets of Beirut, Damascus, Gaza City... to make me feel, alive? Perhaps. However, my sociologist's curiosity may be a better explanation. So the next question is... why? Why do I gravitate to something that conflicts me? That I know I will not fully enjoy? I look at my life in Poland and there is so much of it that I love. Most all of it actually. Waking to the sound of horse hooves on cobblestone streets and church bells, art galleries, train rides and 4am drunken walks home in the ever-promising rising sun. I came here for the tragedy of this country – so perhaps it is the confliction that I seek. The company in Iraq still beckons for me to accept their offer – and it is because of this internal push that I am tempted. I refrain however, not wishing to add to my parents endless worrying about their only remaining child, regardless of the level of safety that I would be assured. No, that's really not even it – as I must admit I am much more selfish than I am often 'accused' of being. I would gladly take the offer, yet the school's reputation is plagued with threats of rigid teaching by the book and very little creative freedom, which is something I require as a teacher and well, in all aspects of my life. So again, I turn down their offer and pour another glass of Bulgarian wine into my empty glass, continue my multiple 'stimulating' google chat conversations and appreciate the pounding rain outside my window.
