Let your memory be your travel bag

Summer Visits to Michigan

2009-11-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

Jessica and Todd's Wedding in June

Quick trip the first week of September

Nottinghill Carnival 2009

2009-08-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

We went to the Nottingham Carnival on the family day (Sunday, Aug 30) with one of my good friends from work, Maryam.

The carnival was overwhelming with lots and lots of people. We got a bit of west Indian food and walked around the area to find a sound system with good music. Along the way, we had to find a toilet and waited for over 30 minutes in line to pay a few pounds to use someone's bathroom in their house!

It was a cool experience with some good dancing but a long day with too much to look at!

Something Fishy in London

2009-08-22T11:17:00.000-07:00

Early Saturday morning, Hyeran dragged us out of bed at 6 AM to get the freshest catch at Billingsgate Fish Market in London. She was in search of a couple of good fillets of Dover Sole for a homework assignment from culinary school. On our way we found a bag full of very fresh shrimp and the tastiest monk fish ever!

Getting to Billingsgate Market, we took a bus from Vauxhall (our new flat) to Liverpool street and another to Canary Wharf. This part of town is really interesting because we walked past the five or six biggest banks in the world with huge glass towers down around the bridge to the fish market. It sits in the shadow of the banking giants. The contrast is striking-- not only in architecture but in social and economic class--fish mongers, chefs, service staff working just down the road from the CEO's of our financial institutions.

By the time we had picked out our catch of the day, it was almost 8am and we headed home via the same bus route but this time with a smell (but fresh!) bag of fish.

Hyeran has found her Dover Sole!

Giant King Prawn/ shrimp

Crabs

Red Snapper

Eels in a bag...

Negotiating for a good price for monk fish

Move to London

2009-08-15T08:49:00.000-07:00

We moved to London in August to a beautiful flat in Vauxhall (south side of London). We are living with another couple-- Mel and Hyeran- who are also Americans. Mel is studying at LSE and Hyeran just graduated from chef school! One of the many reasons we had to find a place with a nice kitchen.

Our flat overlooks the Thames River and is just down the way from the London Eye and across the river from Big Ben. It is an amazing location and we have a beautiful sunset almost every night.

Hyeran and Mel

The Kitchen

Dining room

Living Room with door to balcony

Balcony

View from the balcony

Weekend in Amsterdam

2009-05-25T16:29:00.000-07:00

Monica and I spent the weekend in Amsterdam (May 22-24). I went to a conference for work the following week and got a free trip to the Netherlands! Here are the pictures...

Most Mira Youth Festival in Bosnia

2009-05-21T16:40:00.000-07:00

Check out our photos from the festival:

Paris for New Years

2009-01-19T16:24:00.000-08:00

Happy New Years from Paris!!!

Guy Fawkes Day

2009-01-09T08:08:00.000-08:00

Guy Fawkes Day is celebrated on November 5th in England by holding bonfires all across the country. The celebrations usually burn an effigy of Fawkes (a wooden man), have a huge fire, and set off fireworks.

Guy Fawkes is the infamous Brit who in attempted to blow up the British House of Parliment using barrells and barrells of gunpowder. He was stopped, caught and hanged but now lives on every year on Guy Fawkes Day as an excuse to tramp around outside in the cold and rain to see a HUGE fire and a some fireworks.

Monica and I went to the bonfire in Oxford on the Saturday after November 5th. I apologize for the late posting of pictures.

Enjoy!

Monica's Rowing Adventures

2008-11-09T04:09:00.001-08:00

Matriculation at Oxford

2008-11-08T03:20:00.000-08:00

Monica matriculated at Oxford a few weeks ago. Here was her reaction:

"It was very special. The whole ceremony lasted 15 minutes and they spoke in Latin. No one in the room knew what they were saying."

UPDATE: Our New Home in the UK

2008-10-26T06:38:00.001-07:00

A lot has happened since my last post-- I graduated from MSU, moved to Washington, D.C. for an internship at Amnesty International, got married to my wonderful wife, Monica Mukerjee, moved to the UK, and am now employed in London.

Wow- I guess that qualifies as a lot.

Monica and I have been settling into our flat in Oxford and adjusting to life in the UK. Our immediate reactions to British people and UK culture, in general, were that it is not that different from the U.S. Yes, everyone have interesting accents. Yes, they drive on the 'wrong' side of the street but we really do have more in common than we originally thought. I guess, from my travels, each place has had a distinct feel which sets it markedly apart from other places I've been. When we stepped off the plane at Heathrow and our first few hours in London, it felt like other big cities I've been to in the U.S.

Maybe this is because industrial metropolises have standard things in common (i.e. subways, sidewalks, street signs). Some scholars point to this as a growing 'business civilization.' Or maybe once a city gets to a certain size it will have an international, multicultural population with certain aspects in common with one another. Or maybe this is our post-modern civilization beginning to emerge within the urban centers in the world. (Let's hope for the latter.)

Although British culture is very similar to American culture, it is the little things that will get you. First off, I'm surprised I survived the first week in Oxford. Even though the city has helpfully stenciled "LOOK RIGHT" and "LOOK LEFT" on pedestrian crosswalks, I step out to see a small European car buzzing toward me. Monica has pulled me back to the safe sidewalk numerous times just as an Oxfordian bicycle goes zooming by us. Last week, Eric (one of our American friends living in Oxford and a spouse of another Marshall scholar) and I were quickly crossing the street when a double decker bus blared its horn at us and we scurried out of its way just in time.

The second little difference is in the Queen's English. I know, I know-- I am not one to be a stickler for spelling but my attempts at the job search have taught me to replace a few words with the British equivalent. Most popular in my CV and personal statements were organization/organisation, program/programme, and honors/honours. Some that didn't appear in my personal statement are mom/mum, airplane/aeroplane, goodbye/cheers, boogeyman/bogeyman, and arse/ass. I think one of the reasons my applications got interviews was because I successfully integrated the Queen's spellings (and not the latter).

The third difference is tea. Brits know how to steep a mean cup of tea, bit it Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Assam, or green tea. I, as an American, thought my beverage of choice was strong, black coffee. Early in the morning, I enjoy the crisp, shockingly strong taste and the hot liquid to wake myself up. A few weeks ago, I caught a cold and lost my voice and attempted to coax my voice back to health with cups and cups of tea. After about a week, I was hooked and now I have become accustomed to nearly five cups of tea a day--which sneaks up on you. I was mistaken that tea is harmless and has no caffeine and is really more like water than anything else. Tea does have caffeine and with five cups a day you hit the 'loo' quite a bit.

Besides these little things, life in Oxford has been great. We have explored some of the hallowed halls of Oxford's oldest colleges and even found a quad that was filmed in one of the Harry Potter films!

Next mission: find the Quidditch Pitch.

More Pictures:

Linacre is Monica's college at Oxford. Oxford is organized into colleges for students to live and eat together but are not related to their subject or field of study.

This is the main building of Linacre College.

Riding in one of these boats is a classic Oxford experience called 'punting'
(but we haven't done it yet!)

Our friends, Marzyeh and Steve

Thesis Defense

2008-04-18T11:02:00.000-07:00

After a year and a half working on this research project, I finally have a completed draft of my thesis. I wrote my Circumnavigators paper in the fall on each country and community I visited. In this paper, I have expanded the theory section to include sections on both civil society theory and civil society and Islam; I also expanded my comparisons and conclusions and added a part on global civil society. I will be defending my thesis on April 24th at 5pm (Case Hall, rm #336).

Feel free to download the PDF file and let me know what you think. You can either email me comments, questions, or suggestions or save them for defense! I hope those of you who have followed my travels or helped me with my research will be able to read some or parts of my thesis and come to my defense.

http://nickmicinski.googlepages.com/micinskithesis1.pdf

Conference Presentations

2008-04-13T20:16:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, April 5th, I presented this poster at the Midwest Political Science Association in Chicago. I was able to speak with several other conference goers about their research and they gave me input into my research.

Monika and I had a beautiful day to explore the city. We also met up with Jason Ardanowski (a former Madison grad) for lunch and Chicago style pizza. It was very good.

On Friday, April 11th, I made an oral presentation of my research at the University Undergraduate Research and Arts Forum (UURAF). I prepared this powerpoint presentation and answered several interesting questions afterwards about connecting my research with literature on African Diaspora and networks. I found out a few days later that I received first prize for my presentation!

Please look at both my poster and my powerpoint presentation and leave questions or comments for me to answer.

Marquette presentation at NMU

Advertisement outside Uncle Bill's store

Poster at MPSA Conference in Chicago

Presentation at the Circumnavigators Club in October

Circumnavigation make MSU front page!

2008-03-15T10:26:00.000-07:00

MSU has caught on to my research, travel, and adventures plastered me on top of the main MSU webpage!

Exciting stuff-- I think they really like my t-shirt.

Check out the article.

Signs...of the World

2007-11-17T09:02:00.000-08:00

After an entertaining week in Finland with my excessively funny/goofy sister, I began documenting the signs of the world-- some are familiar, some are instructive, others are indecipherable. Enjoy!

"Follow me," Norway

"Oh!," Finland

"Oh, my!," Finland

"Walk carefully in circles," Finland

"Doggy box," Finland

"100 Meter Dash," Russia

"Nyet..." Russia

"Don't...walk off buildings"

"Don't...drink while leaning on a lamppost"

"Don't...cross-country ski on the grass"

"Don't...miss the trash can by a few inches"

"No speedos."

"Caution!," Russia

"No anchoring on the highway," Russia

"Put something where?" Dubai

"I'd like a table near the creek," Dubai

**

"No sitting on grass. No playing on grass. No climbing trees with jacksaws," Dubai
**Note violators in bottom right corner.

"Our flights cover the entire Middle East...minus one," Dubai

"Please..." Dubai

Sticker on the back of an auto-rickshaw:

"Try the potato salad," India*
*See Delhi and Mussourie posts.

"No marching" or "No crossing the line," Singapore

"No Mohawks," Kazan, Russia

"Dangerous pruning ahead!" United Kingdom

"...unless able to walk on air." United Kingdom

Graffiti...of the World

2007-11-16T08:38:00.001-08:00

Street art can come in many different forms. Here are just a few...

São Paulo, Brazil

São Paulo, Brazil-
These stickers were custom made by a group of young Brazilian (about 10-15 years old). They were sticking them on all the signs and posts around town. I attempted to talk with this group near the MASP.

Reykjavik, Iceland

Bergen, Norway

Bergen, Norway

Kazan, Tatarstan, Russia

Mussouree, India

McDonald's...of the World

2007-11-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

During my trip I took pictures for a series of photo collections that I'm calling "...of the World." These are pictures of some of the McDonald's I saw during my travels. Although I tend to side with individuals against the 'McDonaldization' of the world, I will admit to appreciating a reliably clean bathroom every once and a while.

São Paulo, Brazil

Bergen, Norway

St. Petersburg, Russia

Kazan, Tatarstan, Russia

Moscow, Russia-
The largest McDonald's in the world with about 15 cash registers, tons of seating, and free wireless internet.

Singapore

India Video Post

2007-09-28T20:26:00.000-07:00

Indian Dancing:

This is from a performance at Kalakshetra Academy, Chennai, India. The dance is done in the Bharatanatyam style which originated here in the south of India.

Indian Dancing 2:

This is another part of the performance. The dancers and the school were incredible to visit and welcomed us to their campus.

Indian Food

2007-09-27T21:12:00.001-07:00

This food was amazing and I couldn't get enough of it. Sushweta cook most of the meals just for us!

Thumbs up: Coke times 10

Diet water?

Singapore

2007-09-27T19:28:00.001-07:00

I realized that I hadn't posted my Singapore pictures yet. Here are the good ones.

While I was in Singapore for only a few days, I was there during National Day. National day marks Singapore's independence on August 9th and there was a big celebration downtown. I tried to get into the thick of it but most of the streets were packed with people. At one point a bridge got shut down because so many people where crammed on to it that no one could move. I watched the festivities from one side of a river/bay.

The next day (August 10th) I flew back to the U.S. with a layover in Hong Kong and Chicago.

Check out more pictures below.

Crowded streets

The National Day Parade

Overcrowded bridge

Fireworks at night

Giant balloon jellyfish

More jellyfish

Delhi and Mussoorie, India

2007-09-26T10:50:00.000-07:00

I spent around five days in Delhi after my time in Chennai. My plan was to take a flight in the morning and meet Monika and her family in Delhi in the afternoon. They had arranged night flights and my flight was at 7:30am. I waited for my driver, who was 45 minutes late, until Monika's father’s brother, Gautam, told me to jump the fence and jump into the zooming driver's car.

At the airport, I discovered that my airline had been bought out and would not honor my ticket. If I wanted on the flight, I needed to buy a new ticket and then get reimbursed by my travel agent. So, I waited in line behind another angry customer who monopolized the sales counter until after the gate closed. I went back to the check-in counter, again, and handed my ticket to a different man. He typed in a few numbers, made a call, printed out a ticket, and grabbed my hand. He said, “Quickly, we’ve got to catch your plane.”

We ran through the Delhi airport (the VIP security lane, of course) and up the escalators. Finally, we approached the gate and the attendant told me, “Please don’t run, sir. We’ve been holding the plane for you.” As I walked down the aisle, a plane of eyes followed me to my seat. I have never felt my white privilege more before in my life. It is hard to imagine that a plane full of Indian businessmen could be held fifteen minutes because of an American college student running late, but white, American privilege is everywhere. I experienced it in Russia when my translator expressed disbelief because we were meeting with high-level people without appointments or credentials. I experienced it in Dubai with taxi drivers and in Singapore on the subway. I enjoy these privileges in the U.S. as well, but outside of the U.S. it is more accentuated and, to me, more troubling.

After arriving in Delhi, I made my way to the hotel and ate a big lunch. Almost immediately, I went back to my room and was sick, really sick, for the rest of the night. I had made it almost two weeks without getting sick from Indian food. In fact, I was gorging myself every night on the wonderful food until this meal. From then on, I ate more cautiously and will much less of an appetite. Bad luck, though, because I love Indian food and could have spent the rest of my time there eating and eating.

One day I was so sick I couldn’t get out of bed, so I had to cancel my interviews for the day. Unfortunately, I only had a few days in Delhi and thus did not get nearly as many interviews as Muslim organizations in Delhi deserve. The groups in Delhi were very impressive in number and in their work. The groups were increasingly intellectual and one of my interviews was with a man who is both a doctor at a research center and the General Secretary of a very active organization.

After Delhi, we went north to Mussoorie by jeep. It was about 8 or 10 hours climbing up to the foothills of the Himalayas. They ride up was both beautiful and nauseating because of my carsickness. The winding road (yes, long too…) felt like a roller coaster but we were riding in a car that had the ability to pass and take the curves extra hard. Mussoorie is a city perched on the side of the mountain. It is about five or six big switchbacks of thick city, clinging to the hillside, hoping the rain won’t was it away. And, oh, did it rain.

While we were in Mussoorie, BBC was reporting that the UN had declared this year’s monsoon to be the worst flooding in living memory. Because we were at the top of the hills, we didn’t get any flooding—it just ran past us—but in lower parts of India (closer to Calcutta) flooding was very bad. Gorky, Monika’s cousin who just finished college in Indiana and will be starting grad school this fall in D.C., said that when he went to Delhi while we were in the mountains, there was water shooting up on both sides of the car. Fortunately, he made it back up the mountain and we didn’t come down until the flooding had receded a bit.

Gautam and Sushweta, Monika’s uncle and aunt, were so kind to me my entire stay in India. We were able to talk several times about my research and I felt like I had several deep break-throughs there. Gautam and Sushweta run a non-profit called The India Foundation that works to preserve traditional Indian performing arts. They supply scholarships for young artists to continue studying, pensions for retired artists, and run study abroad programs for international students to both share and pay for the rest of their organization. What they have done is incredible and I was able to sit in on several lectures given by leading professionals in India. Their program goes through every aspect of India from economy to government to all the Indian performing arts to the environment and each lecture is presented by their leading experts.

You will also see in my next post what a wonderful cook Sushweta is… I was in heaven once my stomach finally settled down.

Photos:

We were taken to an amazing restaurant in Delhi and given a shot cooking lesson!

A small market I found my first day in Delhi before my stomach revolted on me.

Mussoorie (pronounce: "Moo-soo-ree")

Rickshaw in the fog

Monika gazing at the mountains

The Himalayan Mountains

Reading the final Harry Potter book together...

Sushweta cooking a wonderful meal!

The house in Mussoorie

Monika trying to check her email from the foothills of the Himalayas (made possible by a cellphone card)

Gorky and Shelby (Gorky's girlfriend from Colorado)

In Mussoorie

Sweet shop

Village boys trying to sell us greeting cards

Pushad's General Store, literally everything

'Round the World Video Posts

2007-08-17T18:17:00.001-07:00

I have been uploading many video clips from my trip on to Youtube.com. To see them, you don't need to register for Youtube but you will need a fairly fast internet connection.

I have placed the video blogs in their chronological order but you can find them by following these links:

Russian Video Post

Finland Video Post

Circumnavigation Complete!

2007-08-12T18:23:00.000-07:00

On August 10th, 2007, at 10pm I landed in Detroit Metro Airport, completing my circumnavigation of the world. Groggy, jetlagged, and tired from the 18 hours of flying (not including layovers), I gathered my bags and met my girlfriend, Monika, and the next day the rest of my family. It is good to be home and wonderful to have completed my voyage. My research is not quite complete-- I still must arrange interviews in Dearborn, Michigan, and then begin to sort through and analyze all of the information I collected.

Over the next few days I will be updating my blog on the places I have missed and the topics I did not cover. I also hope to post several video clips now that I have a very quick internet connection.

Thank you to everyone who helped and supported me on my adventures this summer. Thank you to the Circumnavigators Club for making it all possible. Thank you to the many organizations and interviewees who welcomed me to their communities. Thank you to my family, friends, and translators who showed me around their beautiful countries. Thank you to my professors and adviser who have continuously guided and pushed me. And thank you to my girlfriend and my family in Michigan for understanding when I miss phone calls, when leave weeks of gaps in between blogs, and when decided to take on the small project of traveling around the world.

My pack before:

And after:

(Note the extra bag and bulging seams)

**Note: The title of this post was previously "Mission Complete" but I have revised it after one of my readers wisely pointed out that my mission is not over by simply circumnavigating the world. Not only do I have more interviews and much writing to do on my project, I also hope to continue my goals of further understanding, greater inclusion, more collaboration long after my paper and thesis are complete. Some may see similarities to my post's former title and our President's "Mission Accomplished" banner, but I have revised my title in an attempt to learn from mistakes.

Chennai, India

2007-08-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

Pictures now, blog to come...

A Day (or two) in Dubai

2007-08-01T15:06:00.000-07:00

Pictures for now, blog to come...

Russian Video Post

2007-07-28T19:53:00.000-07:00

Here are a few glimpses of Russia through the few video clips I took while traveling.

Fountains of St. Petersburg:

Russian Wedding Celebration:

The couple just toasted to their happiness (I think that's what they toast to...) and then broke their glasses on the pier. This was just one of about ten couples near the water, each breaking their glasses in turn.

Georgian Food:

This is my bubbling dish at a Georgian restaurant in St. Petersburg. It was so spicy (hot spicy!) and I ate it with some amazing cheese bread.

Russian Rapping:

We walked up on a few rappers performing in the street. I think they were entertaining as advertisement for a cell phone company.

Russian Break Dancing:

In addition to the rappers, the cell phone company also had these awesome break dancers.

Moscow in Pictures

2007-07-27T03:01:00.000-07:00

The former Soviet Union's capitol as seen through my newly purchased Canon camera:

The largest McDonald's in the world (it really is big)

Soviet space achievements

The Red Square in day light

And slowly the sun sets...

The Red Square at night

Research in Russia

2007-07-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

My research in Russia has been so similar to the rest of the world but I have also had several personal breakthroughs. In Russia, I found strong Muslim organizations all centering around the mosques and the Muslim administrative boards for each area. The administrative boards are the next generation after boards from the Soviet Union. During communist time, the boards were used to control the Muslim communities by focusing authority at the top and close to the party. After the end of communism, the administrative boards were separated from the government but are still very strong and very much in control. I spoke with both the administrative boards in Moscow and Kazan to give me the general picture of the Muslim community in both cities. At each meeting it felt like I was talking with government officials and it was very obvious I was getting the official tagline about the communities. These ‘rosy’ pictures are similar across boarders and within each country I’ve visited. In Russia, it was interesting that I found individuals who told of their frustration with the strong administration. They complained about the difficulty small groups had in maintaining their operations and the pressures put on them by higher authorities. Although, this was clearly not government pressure, it was probably a result of the climate created under the Soviet Union and the structure of administration still in place.

Because of these restrictions, I did not find as many groups in Moscow that were willing to talk with me. It is important to note that there is a lot of literature on how underdeveloped civil society is in Russia. This assumes that there was no civil society under the Soviet Union or that the traditions established before Soviet times have no activities that resemble civil society. I am suspicious of both assumptions and have found evidence to the contrary. In 1917, there was the First All-Russian Congress of Muslims held in Moscow that debated social issues of the time (this was pre-Revolution) both within Islam and in society. The Soviet Union definitely left its mark on civil society in Russia—either by repressing or reshaping it—but it did not kill it.

The main concern for Muslims in Moscow was articulated to me again and again that they needed more mosques for the large Muslim population in the city. For over two million Muslims just in Moscow there are only five mosques. It is thus impossible for all Muslims to gather for prayer at mosques every Friday and many requests to build new mosques have been turned down by the government. When I visited the main mosque in Moscow, they had just begun construction of a new mosque right next to the older building. They were happy to tell me about the new project but said it was not nearly enough to solve the problem.

The strong administration may not be as good at allowing smaller organizations to grow but they were very good at international conferences and bilateral relations. Because there is just one umbrella group for all Muslims in Russia, it can claim to speak for Russian Muslims. It works in collaboration with many groups in Europe and the rest of the world to take stances on international issues. They also work closely with the Russian government to address issues they identify as important to Russian Muslims. While the benefits for a strong administration are clear, I’m not sure they out weight the work that can be done by smaller, grassroots organizations. Smaller organizations do not have the financial resources or political might of official boards but they can see solutions to community problems more clearly and can be mobilized quickly.

I spoke with several very active, very exciting organizations in Kazan that do just this. One of the organizations I spoke with worked to address Muslim women’s issues in Russia. They used their organization’s newsletter, knocked on people’s doors, and spoke with the mayor to get obscene billboards removed from their highway. This is the type of action that would be difficult to get out of a large administration. Bureaucracy is useful only in the power it may yield but it is not match for the agility of individuals working together on issues that affect them most.

Another organization I visited claimed to have almost every Muslim woman in Tatarstan as its member. I don’t know how active every woman is but with a constituency that large a lot of work can be done. The list of activities and services offered goes on and on but some of the interesting ones include summer camps, radio programs, a matchmaking service, and ‘Miss Muslim’ pageants (think Miss Universe contests without the materialism). I was so impressed with the organization that the interview lasted for over two hours.

Near the end of the interview I asked the president’s opinion on feminism and her answer surprised but confirmed something for me. The organization’s goal was to do work for the causes the Muslim women of Tatarstan cared about. She did not agree with, in fact, was turned off by, feminism. Her role, she said, was as the mother of her children and wife of her husband. She needed to be good at both and then help her community. But she did not want her husband’s job or another man’s job—that was not what she wanted. This is the difference between feminism and the global women’s movement. I thought after the Women and Power class I took last semester that I understood the difference. It wasn’t until I was sitting in front of this woman, who was adamantly denying the tenets of feminism I believe in, that it was obvious that these were my tenets, not hers.

The Global women’s movement does not attempt to transplant Western concepts in the hearts of women everywhere. It seeks to build solidarity, find commonality, and help everyone move towards their own goals. For me to ask this woman to deny her goals and her chosen life would be to impose my standard of values and my lifestyle on her.

Traveling has allowed me to step out of my Western perspective but speaking with this woman put a human face to the issue. It’s easy to fall into the trap of imagining a helpless woman in a hut somewhere that needs empowerment from the West but it’s more difficult to maintain this stance when the woman is sitting in front of you speaking very eloquently and frankly disagreeing. It was not a matter of education; she had two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s degree. It was not poverty; her family was obviously comfortable. When you advocate for empowerment and the right to make your own choices, you have to accept the choices people make—a lesson traveling half way around the world could only teach me.

Photos:

Anna (my translator), Dr. Shvedona (a colleage of one of my professors, Dr. O'Sullivan See, at MSU), and me in Moscow

Russian Food

2007-07-13T08:35:00.001-07:00

I apologize in advance for the number of pictures here but I am working against the stereotype that Russian food is very bland and consists of only borscht. Here is a little bit of what satisfied my taste buds in Russia:

Russian crêpes with meat and sour cream

Cabbage salad

Borscht! It is really good, trust me!

Meat stew

Beef and cheese, potatoes

Cabbage salad II

Tatarstan pizzas and tea (lots of tea in Russia)

Fruity juice

Kbac ('kvass') is the peculiar national drink of Russians. It is made out of bread but is rumored to not be alcoholic. I liked it for the first two seconds and then a burnt bread taste comes in at the end to kick you in the butt.

Meat pie

Dinner at the Azerbaijani restaurant. The food was excellent.

Mutton and rice

Georgian cheese bread

Spicy and hot! Georgian dish

Baltica #5... They make from 1-7. I tried to sample them all.

The Russian Hair Cut in Kazan

2007-07-07T04:34:00.001-07:00

The train ride to Kazan was long—27 hours long. It may have gone faster if anyone in my cabin spoke English or if I could speak any Russian. Instead, the first two hours consisted of all three of my cabin mates starring at the wall straight ahead of them—the perfect Russian stoics. I spent the rest of my time catching up on the news from podcasts I had downloaded and finishing some of my reading. The next morning the quietest of the boys in the cabin broke the silence and told me he was in the military and was going home for his July vacation. Suddenly out came the photo album pictures of his entire family and all of his friends. It was good to talk but difficult because he had very little English.

Alsou, my translator in Kazan, met me at the train station and we took a bus to my flat. I rented a flat for my week in Kazan because the city is not a tourist destination like St. Petersburg or Moscow and a hotel would have been very expensive. It was also nice to get out of the youth hostels and stop sharing a bathroom with twenty other twenty-somethings. The flat was a small two room, one bathroom apartment on the first floor of a very large building. Immediately, I knew that I was in Tatarstan because above the door was a cartoon drawing of a mosque and Arabic calligraphy of a verse from the Qur’an. There were several other similar drawings scattered around the living room/bedroom.

Tatarstan is a republic within Russia but has traditionally been very independent from the Russian federation. A little over half the population of Tatarstan is ethnically Tatar and Tatars are traditionally Muslim. There was a strong nationalist movement in Tatarstan after the end of the Soviet Union. The status of Tatarstan is a murky subject and the 1990s must have been an interesting time to be in Kazan. In 1990, Tatarstan was declared independent; in 1992, there was a national referendum that supported the republic’s independence. In 1994, a treaty was negotiated that made Tatarstan an associated state; in 2000, Tatarstan amended its constitution making it subject to Russia again. The people in Kazan identify national foods and customs with Tatarstan, not Russia. Tatar is spoken in the countryside but Russian is spoken in the cities. Most young people speak Russian and Tatar is spoken by the elderly.

The reason I visited Kazan and Tatarstan is because Tatars are ethnically Muslim and within the Russian Federation, Tatars are a clear Muslim minority community. In reference to my research, I am assuming Tatarstan as part of Russia and looking at Tatar Muslims in relation to the rest of Russia. I had been looking forward to visiting Kazan because I wrote part of a research paper this spring on Muslim women’s groups in Russia and most were based in Kazan. I will fill you in on my extremely fruitful interviews in my next research post.

You may have noticed in the recent pictures but I was in desperate need of a hair cut. While I’m not afraid of long hair (you should have seen in a year ago), I did not want to have shaggy hair in the hot weather of Dubai and India. The first day in Kazan I mentioned to Alsou that I needed a haircut and that if we had time I would really like her help. So at the end of a long day of interviews, we went in search of a salon. The first two places Alsou took me were closed but we finally found one with our last try. I was beginning to think that not finding a place was a sign that I shouldn’t get my haircut. I told Alsou this, but it did not translate well.

Alsou had me describe to her and to the Russian hairdresser—who did not speak any English—what I wanted and then left, as it was getting late in the day. I waited in line for half an hour and a different hairdresser called me to her chair. I sat down tentatively and described again what I wanted—this time with hand gestures to indicate length. She nodded her head and then went to work. I wasn’t sure if she understood anything I had said or even if she was going to take my opinion in to consideration. After a few moments, I could tell she was a pro with the scissors and I relaxed a bit, putting my fate in her hands/ scissors.

The other hairdressers in the shop began discussing with my hairdresser something in very fast Russian. The entire time my hairdresser did not look up. Finally, they came to a conclusion and one said across the room to me: “Enjoy?” I said, “Da” (Russian for yes) and smiled. They all giggled and went back to what they were doing. I noticed then that the whole time I had been getting my hair cut I hadn’t really felt the scissors on the back of my neck. I watched for a bit and although my hairdresser was good, her scissors did not graze the bottom two inches of my hair. Suddenly terror struck me: I was being given a real Russian hair cut, a mullet.

My hair was not long enough to make it an extremely noticeable mullet. But all the same, I think I would have blended in with every other Russian male who has at least a two inches tail in back. I quickly told the hairdresser (in hand gestures) that I did NOT want a mullet and watched as she begrudgingly trimmed up the back. I had to gesture several more times because she was so reluctant to cut away something so stylish.

My overall experience was good but for a moment I imagined the teasing that would ensue if any of my friends back in the States had only one picture of my temporary haircut. To add to that, I would be meeting up with my girlfriend, Monika, in a week, who I haven’t seen in over a month and a half and I did not need to be sporting a new style to impress her.

Pictures:

Leaning tower in Kazan

The dragon is the symbol of Kazan

Alsou's cousin who showed me around town my last day

Lenin statue

Russian style chubby-bunny

St. Petersburg

2007-07-07T04:34:00.000-07:00

I arrived in St. Petersburg on Wednesday (July 27) and checked in to my hostel at about 11:30 PM. But first I had to get from the train station to my hostel. I had the choice of taking an extremely expensive taxi ride and not knowing how to explain to the driver where I actually wanted to go or I could attempt to navigate the subway at a relatively late hour. As budget traveler, I rose to the challenge and had my first lesson in Cyrillic.

The subway in St. Petersburg is very similar to those in other cities I’ve visited on the trip but it is deep underground. The first escalader took me almost three stories into the ground; I felt like I was entering Peter the Great’s secret dudgeon. At the bottom, I had the choice of Cyrillic name number one on the right and Cyrillic name number two on the left. I choked for a second until I found the name of the station on the map and located the name of my destination on another. Eventually, I followed a crowd into a car and proceeded to be starred at until my stop—apparently, the big backpack with flag patches from all of the countries I have visited sewn on screams “FOREIGNER!”

I found switched lines by counting the number of stops. Then boarded another train and got off at the correct stop by using the counting method, again. St. Petersburg is a very busy city, not on the level of crazy Cairo, but walking to my hostel the streets were still filled with people. My hostel was situated in the back corner of an alley and as I approached it, I considered not even going inside. The hallway to the stairs was so run down that it looked like I could be entering a crack house. I summoned my courage (and budget traveler intuition) and climbed up to the third floor.

To my surprise, the hostel was small but hip flat decorated in a very modern style. The inside of the flat and the entrance to the building were polar opposites and I later found out that there was a reason the stairway was so neglected. I’m told that after the end of communism all of the flats were privatized but the government never gave anyone ownership of the stairwells. Now, no one feels responsible for their maintaince and the government logistically cannot take responsibility for every stairwell in the country.

In St. Petersburg, I got to most of the sights in the city including St. Isaac’s Cathedral, Peter and Paul’s Fortress, the Church of the Spilled Blood, Kazan Cathedral, and Lenin’s former office. I also spent a rainy afternoon inside the Hermitage viewing its huge art collection.

I also have a bit of advice for anyone visiting an art gallery alone, any time soon: take an Ipod. I was against the tuning out of the environment, the lack of conversation, and the extreme individualization of people that can come from frequent Ipod use and abuse, but the only way I have the endurance to go five hours on my feet and wondering the halls is with a little Billy Joel. I apologize to centuries of brilliant art that may be offended by the Piano man [and also to the coinage section, which some how I missed altogether], but at least I was able to make it to the third floor Picasso exhibit and enjoy it.

Taking public transportation has forced me to learn how to blend in with the locals. At first, the mini-buses of St. Petersburg were a challenge. Instead of taking a normal city bus, or a taxi, or a tram, I often used the minivans because they were cheap and went the direction I was going. The minivans are flagged down by sticking one’s hand out perpendicular to the road. Note: perpendicular; I spent almost an hour unsuccessfully trying to get a minibus by raising my hand straight in the air. Then, after boarding, you find a seat or stand in the back area and pass your fare up to the driver, who makes change while weaving in and out of traffic. I never learned the word for ‘stop’ in Russian but managed by following behind any Russian getting out close to my stop. Last—and this is the most important part—the sliding door must be slammed behind you. Don’t even try to do this gently; it does not work.

In the past, I have been accused of being a wedding crasher. The following does not help in my defense. St. Petersburg, it seems, is the Las Vegas of Russia and in the high season for marriages. I was walking from the Hermitage to the fortress and saw a group of very well dressed Russians. The closer I got the more white dresses I could see. There were at least five wedding groups near the water posing for pictures with the fountains in the background. I watched the crowd for a while and began to see a Russian tradition. After all of the photographs, the bride and groom drink a glass of champagne together and then throw the glasses at one of the large stone balls near the water, shattering everywhere. Then the crowd shouts something that sounded like “Polka!” and the couple dances until the band stops playing. I watched this happen five times and even saw one group release two white doves.

Because I was in Russia, I decided that I would see an opera or a ballet. Of course, the show with the most performances (and thus the cheapest prices) was Swan Lake. I bought my ticket the day before from the box office and was surprised that it was only $15 for the show. I didn’t really think much about it until I got to the performance that night and realized I was watching a kid’s production of Swan Lake! To their credit, they were really good Russian kids—probably in high school— who will probably be the stars of Russian ballet in a few years. But as they were, they still had a couple of centimeters to grow.

Navigating in Russia has been more of a challenge than other places because English is not widely spoken. Of course, in a few tourist stores and other places it is required but not in really helpful places like, say… the train station. I went to the station armed with directions about what ticket I wanted to buy written in Russian (the staff at the hostel helped) and waited in line for the ticket counter. As I handed my paper under the window, I swear I saw the woman’s upper lip twitch and she shouted almost immediately, “NYET!” shoving my paper back under the window. I looked around a little shocked and pushed it back asking (almost begging) in English for her to look again. This was promptly followed by another, “NYET!” In the universal traveler sign language, I asked the woman if there were any tickets on another day. “NYET!” What about a lower class? “NYET!” Maybe a higher class? “NYET!”

Finally, a man behind me who spoke broken English came to my rescue. And I do mean rescue, because he went back and forth in a verbal battle with the woman. A truce was called and compromise made that I would take a higher class ticket and pay double the price I had expected to pay. Feeling like I could not turn down this hard fought (and expensive) prize, I handed over my passport and paid the price. Upon seeing my American passport, my new friend and the woman had another conversation, which I would have paid [even more] money to know what they said.

You may notice a difference in my pictures from here on out. While at the ballet, I dropped my camera, which landed some dirt on the camera’s sensor. I took my camera to a repair shop in near the fortress but they needed at least three days and a bit of money to fix it and I only had 6 hours before my train to Kazan. Luckily, I found a Canon camera store on the main street of St. Petersburg and purchased a similar model but with more mega-pixels. Hopefully, you can see the difference and appreciate the no dirt look in the pictures.

Photos of St. Petersburg:

The Admiralty

St. Petersburg Mosque

I thought the look on this guy's face was interesting...

Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood

Inside the church

Our-Lady-of-Kazan Cathedral (Russian Orthodox Christianity)

Inside Kazan Cathedral

St. Isaac's Cathedral

Inside the cathedral

The Hermitage

Inside the Hermitage

Painted lions outside the Hermitage

Peter and Paul's Fortress

St. Petersburg bridges at 2 AM

Communist stained glass from the Political History Museum

Russian countryside, as seen from my train to Kazan

Helsinki in 30 Minutes

2007-06-30T04:26:00.000-07:00

Actually, I had an hour and a half stop over to wait for a connecting train. Luckily, the train station is only a few blocks from the center of the city and the waterfront. I practically ran down to the water front, snapping pictures the whole time, and then ran back to the station. I also realized that I had ten euros that I would not be able to spend the rest of my trip. So, I ordered up some salmon soup to-go and gulped it down before boarding the train.

Helsinki was a very nice city, probably one that deserved more than a 30 minute jog around town.

Finnish National Theater

The Finnish train system mascot

Salmon soup

Finland Video Post

2007-06-29T20:12:00.000-07:00

Sorry, these video clips have taken so long to post. I hope they show different aspects of our time in Finland with family.

Family Organ:

This is the organ my ancestor gave as payment for boat tickets to the US from Finland many, many generations ago.

Water skiing: Attempt #1-

I attempted to waterski with my cousins. Unfortunately, they had been feeding me for three straight days before we got on the water. You see what happened.

Water skiing: Attempt #23

After several attempts and failures (and broken ropes), we went and found a stronger rope that could hold me.

A Smörgåsbord

2007-06-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

Because my relatives live in the Swedish part of Finland (mostly along the western coast), many of the foods we ate and the things we did were more Swedish than Finnish. My family speaks Swedish (and Finnish and English) and they consider themselves part of the Swedish minority within Finland.

Here is a sampling of the smörgåsbord of food I had while in Finland:

-Rhubarb-ade (tastes similar to lemonade but made with rhubarb and lots of sugar)
-Doughnut filled with jelly and made in the traditional Kronoby style
-Strong coffee
**Made by Märtha

-Salmon with creme sauce (This was my favorite food while in Scandinavia!)

*Made by Brigitta

-New potatoes and dill

Dessert with Lingonberries on top

Desserts and Coffee:
-Rhubarb cobbler
-Cinnamon coffee cake
-Kronoby doughnuts

-Strong coffee
-Cloudberry liqueur (ask Grandpa how he liked it)
-Vanilla sauce for all the cakes

*Made by Benita

-Cake with kiwi
-Cinnamon and sugar bars

*Made by Birgitta

-Ice cream cake with candy on top that tasted like a Heath bar

-Rhubarb cake with vanilla sauce

*Made by Susanne

Our Midsummer Feast:

The feast Stina prepared for us for Midsummer must have taken a week to prepare.

-Salted, Smoked, or Tarred Lox

-Various types of herring (plain, mustard, and tomato)

-Swedish meatballs

-Gin and tonic in a can

-Light beer made in Lapland (the north of Finland)

-Light beer made in Helsinki

-Swedish export beer

-Very strong Finnish coffee!

Midsummer in Finland

2007-06-27T13:23:00.000-07:00

Finland has been amazing. I have spent so much time being introduced to family members, making new friends, and eating, eating, eating. As you’ll see from the food blog, I have not gone hungry. In fact, I have become gluttonous. When Robin had me try to water ski behind Janken’s and Birgitta’s boat, I snapped the rope three times. I think it’s time to start a diet or leave the company of family looking to fatten me up.

I attempted to meet my family from the States (Mom, Chelsea, Grandpa, and Grandma) in Stockholm. We were going to catch the same flight over to Vaasa and meet our Finnish family there. Unfortunately, my family’s plane from the States was late and they missed the flight altogether. I sat on the plane looking around with no one to be seen. I asked the flight attendant if she could check the passenger list to see if they were booked for the same flight or if we had had a miscommunication. But as I exited the plane in Finland, another flight attendant stood holding a sign “MICSISKI NICOLAS.” She filled me in on my family’s connection trouble and told me that I should go inside to work it out.

Again, I breezed by the luggage carousel to meet Stina, Janken, Birgitta, and Marita. They weren’t sure if I would recognize them (which, of course, I did) and were more than a little confused as to why my family was not with me. I told Stina that they had missed the flight and that they were still in Stockholm. She didn’t believe me; she said, “You are joking. Where is Sue? She is pulling a practical joke on us.”

We talked with the airline employees in Vaasa and they were not very optimistic about the others getting another flight. It was the Wednesday before the holiday weekend (Midsummer) and everything was very full. We didn’t know how we could get a hold of them because they didn’t have cell phones (U.S. cell phones don’t work outside of the U.S.). I asked if I could get online but the only place that they had a connection was with the computer behind the counter. The employee let me behind the counter and I quickly signed onto Gmail to find Chelsea signed on as well!

We chatted online for about 15 minutes arranging details and waiting to see if they could get a flight. In the end, Chelsea booked new tickets online for the next flight and as they approached the gate the airline had overbooked the plane by… four tickets. They looked the other way as they boarded and arrived only five hours late.

We spent the first few days meeting lots and lots of people. I have seen most of my relatives from Finland in pictures. My mom traveled to Finland when she was 18 years old with her Aunt Elta. Just three years ago, Mom and Dad returned to Finland and met everyone again. Now, for the first time, Grandma Bev, Grandpa Dale, Chelsea, and I were meeting our distant relatives.

We visited the house where our great, great grandmother was born and met our relatives that still live there. The house actually has a cannon hole in the attic from when the Russians attacked from across the river. Also in the house were a desk and an organ that my great, great grandfather gave as payment for their boat tickets to America. Martha even cranked out a tune on the old organ for us.

Then we visited Janken and Birgetta’s house (which is where my mom stayed when she came the first time). Next to their house is Bengt’s leather factory. The factory has been in the family for many generations and takes rough hides of sheep from Brazil or reindeer from Finland and refines their quality. The end product is very high-end leather used for many things, such as leather gloves. Bengt showed us the whole factory and how all of the machines work.

On Friday, Midsummer started. Most people have the day off and spend it getting ready for the big feast and after meal drinking. We went out to Stina and Tage’s summer cottage, which is about 15 minutes from their house. Their cottage is actually a complex of three cottages, one outhouse, and a sauna. It was right on the water, although I’m not sure if it was connected to the sea.

At about three or four in the afternoon, Stina had a banquet size table packed with food, waiting for us—the traditional Midsummer spread, plus some. You can see the pictures on my food post but some highlights were the ‘new’ potatoes (presumably because they are so fresh), lox, herring, and schnapps. The sun was strong—as was the schnapps—which made the meal and conversation all the better.

Afterward a couple hours of eating and talking, we moved to the fire ring to escape the “crunk.” Apparently, “crunk” means mosquitoes in Kronoby-Swedish but it still sounded odd coming out of, two-year old, Saga’s mouth.

Around the fire we had an interesting conversation about the Swedish minority in Finland. I saw a lot of correlations between Swedes, as a minority, and Muslims, as a minority. Both are concerned about preserving their rights as minorities in a majority country. Both emphasized speaking their native language; both talked about the education of their youth. It’s difficult to draw sweeping generalizations about minority groups, and believe me I was not working over Midsummer, but it was refreshing to hear the same issues I have been discussing with Muslim minorities around the world in another context.

Chelsea and I had our first Swedish sauna experience at about one in the morning. We spend so much time in the sauna sitting and talking that I overheated (and sweat a lot!). We ran out of the sauna and jumped off the dock into the lake. The cool water felt so good; my whole body felt refreshed. Then we went back in the sauna for more. I believe we went back and forth from the sauna to the lake four times. Each time working up a thorough sweat before leaping up and running down the dock.

Grandpa Dale had me read an article about traveling in a foreign affairs journal. It discussed the increase in number of people traveling and traveling far. It had lots of statistics about who and where and how far but concluded by saying that people need to be comfortable at home before they should go looking to be at home in other places. I’m not sure how I feel about this (as I think many people travel and find themselves, or define themselves more clearly) but it posed the question: why travel?

As I struggled to explain to myself why I was traveling (besides the obvious “because of research” or “because of my scholarship”), the cliché answers—which the article points out—came to mind. Travel writers and study abroad folk, alike, have written endless taglines about how humans really are all alike. But do we have to travel ourselves to confirm it? Why not trust the novelists and journalists—I mean, their stories will probably turn out more beautiful than any travel journal (or blog) we can turn out.

For me, the swapping of stories and habits that happens in any cross cultural or travel experience is not about confirming the universality of humanity but a genuine exchange between two people. True, this can happen with your best friend or safe in your hometown (and it should) but there was a point for me when that wasn’t enough anymore and I had to explore, I had to travel.

Hopefully, this will be flushed out more in future blogs but for now my Finland experience was exactly why I travel. We talked; we exchanged experiences, and we made friendships. There doesn’t have to be a higher meaning for that to be worthwhile.

I invite readers to share why you travel in the comments section of this blog.

More pictures:

Janken and Birgetta's house

Janken and Birgetta's summer cottage

Me breaking the ski rope

Success!

Robin wake boarding

Floating sauna

Leather from the factory

The Leather Factory

Family in Finland

2007-06-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

I decide to travel to Finland as part of my circumnavigation because I needed to go to Norway for research already and I have relatives in Finland. My ancestors immigrated from Kronoby, Finland, to Oscoda, Michigan, around 1904. In Finland, they lived on the west coast and the Swedish part off the country. In this area, they speak mostly Swedish and most of the signs are in both Swedish and Finnish. In the States, several relatives also moved to Flint, Michigan, for work, which is were most of my extended family lives now (both father's and mother's side). I believe it was my great great grandmother Greta Mathilda and her husband who immigrated with their four young children. In the first few years that they were in the U.S. my great grandmother Esther was born.

Here in Finland, my relatives are actually my cousins. They are descendents of my great great great grandfather John Erikson Lybäck. The kids my age are great great grandchildren of J. E. Lybäck because their great grandmother was the youngest child while my great great grandmother was one of the oldest of the eight children.

Here are photos of family that I took on this trip. Those not in my family may need to reference the family tree at the bottom but it is somewhat difficult to navigate/ understand. I need to apologize for any misspellings of names and those of you that I don't have a picture-- I'm sorry.

Mom and Chelsea (my younger sister)

Grandma Bev and Grandpa Dale (my mother's parents, my relatives in Finland are from my grandmother's side)

Linda, Lisa, Grandma, Grandpa, Stina, Tage, Chelsea, Mom, Björn, Bentti

Björn, Stina, Tage, Bennti

Linda and Chelsea

Björn and Lisa

Birgitta, Janken, Cecelia, Sebastian, Robin

Sebastian and Cecelia

Robin and Janken

Birgitta

Tage, Stina, Janken, Birgetta

Bengt and Benita (I don't have a picture, sorry!)

Jennie and Tommi

Johnny and Pia

Chelsea, Grandpa, Sven-Erik, Steffan, Krister, Susanne, Mom, Grandma

Malin, Magnus, and Steffan

Sofie, Sandra, Märtha, Bengt, Älis, Birgitta

Chelsea, Sofie, Me

Bengt

Anna and Philip

Sea Varmints in Stockholm

2007-06-25T13:41:00.001-07:00

Today, I was attacked by seagulls. It was probably worse than Hitchcock's The Birds because I was right in the middle but I didn't stick around for the ending.

I arrived at 7:45 AM in Stockholm and took the train into town. I explored the town before going to my hostel because I could not get into the room until 2 Pm. There was one long street in Stockholm marked in purple on the tourist map and I decided to check out what it was because I was so close. Turns out that purple means tourist shops/traps in Stockholm. The cobblestone street was marked with statues of lions to prevent cars from interrupting our shopping. I looked up and saw flags from all of the Scandinavian countries forming the canopy of this urban jungle. The street seemed to suck me deeper and deeper into tourist heaven until it spit me out next to the river and the Stockholm harbor.

I crossed a bridge onto the island of old Stockholm and walked through the small (again, quaint) neighborhood. The Swedish Royal Palace is on this island, but as I starred past the over-priced tickets at the courtyard, I decided to save my money for lunch. I walked around the island—strike that—circumnavigated the island and made my way to mainland.

About then, I passed a group of noisy tourists sitting on a bench overlooking the harbor. My ear caught several words of Arabic, which required a closer look I realized that one of the women was wearing the hijab and the others were speaking Egyptian Arabic. They were debating something about ‘Misr’ (Egypt). It was at that point that I decided that I may be able to use my Arabic outside of the Middle East more than I thought. Excluding Iceland, there have been Arabic speakers in every country I have visited thus far. Arabic communities, closely associated with Muslim communities and my research, can be found almost any where in the world. It was interesting to see the Egyptian women as very obvious tourists (they had bought Swedish flag paraphernalia).

I really enjoyed the Swedish modern art museum, Moderna Museets. There were several pieces by Munch (one of the museums I missed in Oslo) and some excellent Swedish painters. On my way back from the museum, out of nowhere, a sea gull dive-bombed my head. I ducked out of the way and saw the bird go on to terrorize two other groups of people.

Later, after I had narrowly escaped the bird’s first attack, I got lunch at a street café. Either the burger and fries or my sweet blood were too enticing for the sea gull because he came back and with some of his friends. My whole meal was a struggle to dodge the bird attacks (some already missing one of their legs) and to gabble down my food before they gabbled down me. At one point, I moved to the center of the umbrellas (which put me about 15 feet from the edge on both sides) but still the bird swooped down, under the umbrella and started hovering and beating its wings wildly. The woman next to me said with a heavy Swedish accent, “They are specialists.”

The rest of my meal I ate with one eye over my shoulder. After a several seconds of calm, I thought I saw the bird coming in on the ground and I jumped in anticipation. It was not a bird, but a leaf, and half of my fries ended up on my lap. I finished and quickly left with my tail between my legs—Stockholm’s fowl victorious.

More photos:

Old Stockholm

Gate of the German Church in the old neighborhood of Stockholm

Stockholm Harbor

Swedish Royal Palace

Obelisks everywhere-- I prefer the Egyptian version in Egypt.

My hostel- advertised as, "Free internet, Free hot showers, Free coffee, Free pasta!" It was a good hostel for my one day layover.

Research in Norway

2007-06-24T16:54:00.000-07:00

After Brazil and France, I felt like I was hitting my stride in my research. In Norway, I was able to find interesting groups that fit my research, along with articulate people who represented their organizations well. One frustration that surfaced was that people were saying the same thing over and over again—or at least it seemed that way since Brazil.

Because I have interviewed mostly contact people from each group, I have felt like I am getting a press release and sometimes a polished interview. Of course, I have read their press releases and know about their organization from their websites and other literature. What the interview is good for is gauging individual experiences, the personal benefits of organizations, and hearing different voices or concerns from the community. It has been a challenge to bring these representatives out of ‘press core’ mode and down to the personal level, but I guess that’s what good conversational skills are for…

The first individual we met in Norway was the leader of the Pakistani Student Association. The typical student organization leader: she was heavily involved in over six other organizations while balancing her schoolwork from two-simultaneous masters degrees. Her social and political networks ranged from fellow uni-students to Ministers of State. One striking comment stated the problem clearly, “Too often people talk about Muslims and not with us,” followed by a serious roll of the eyes.

I visited several Muslim schools including a Muslim kindergarten and all-girls nursing school. One of the main priorities for the Norwegian Muslim community is the education of their youth. Norwegian language is especially important in Norway for getting a job and is often emphasized. But beside skills to operate in Norwegian society, education was a priority because of the feeling that Muslim youth are not learning enough about their religion and need a stronger Islamic identity. The schools were established to foster a safe, comfortable environment where Muslim children can learn and grow, where a child’s Islamic identity can be strengthened. This goal reminds me of a friend who went to a Christian college after high school in order to strengthen her religious identity before entering the real world. The institutions seem remarkably analogous. One of the employees at the kindergarten said, “It is like a normal kindergarten, except we pray before and after food.” (Of course, there were the few visible differences such as the Arabic calligraphy done in finger paint and dress up clothes complete with head scarf.)

Norway’s Muslim community is very well organized; there are cultural centers and councils that offer many of the typical services such as publishing Islamic literature, education, halal foods, and theological issues. There is also a Muslim women’s organization that is connected with the major cultural center and provides the same services for women in the community. During our interview at the cultural center, Maria and I started talking with the public relationship guy in the lobby of the center. After a couple of minutes, the imam wandered over and sat down to listen. Then just as we were discussing the women’s organization, the president of the women’s group came over with three other women. What began as an intimate interview, ended as an extremely fruitful discussion with many members of the organization. Most revealing were the disagreements when answering my questions. Community organizations rarely stand as one unified thought or idea but rather a running debate about their purpose among members. When asked, “Who experiences more prejudice in Norway? Muslim men or Muslim women?” Each respectively answered themselves.

Another interesting part of the Muslim community in Norway is their participation in interfaith dialogue. This type of organization holds a lot of potential for my research. They are based on active listening and building relationships. Much of their work began in the 1990s before the complicating factor of 9/11 and was based more in a spiritual dialogue, discussing how others experienced God spiritually. The group built trust through their personal relationships and have not dodged the difficult issues such as religion in school and women’s rights. The reason I feel organizations like this one have potential is because they are taking the academic discussions I encountered in France, adding the spiritual dimension, and then using the relationships to benefit both communities.

And these strong relationships are the ones most needed in times of crisis. The community is particularly proud of their handling of the political cartoons that were published in both Denmark and Norway depicting Muhammad as a terrorist. The interfaith dialogue and several other organizations I talked with mentioned their success at staving off a public reaction similar to that in Denmark. By working quickly and relying on the relationships they had already built, they drafted a joint statement the same day and sent representatives to the Middle East. The trust that had grown before had stayed under pressure. I hope to find more groups like this in my research.

Also while in Oslo, I met up with Peter Tonn and Conrad Gogstad, fellow circumnavigators from the club. Both Peter and Conrad were very welcoming and Peter helped set up an interview at the Afghan embassy in charge of all of Scandinavia.

Here are a few pictures from around Oslo:

Computer lab at the Muslim women's nursing school

One of Norway's new mosques (still in construction)

French and Norwegian Food

2007-06-24T12:45:00.000-07:00

A sampling of wonderful French and Norwegian foods-- Maria's family introduced to me to so much Norwegian food I could not capture enough of it in my photos. I want to especially thank Maria's mother for being such a great cook and preparing such a great selection for me.

French Dishes:

Salad with egg, sausage (I think made with some part of the neck of a duck), and pâté

Beef and tomato sauce and excellent French wine

Crème brûlée and an apple dish

I love crème brûlée!

Norwegian Food:

Norwegian salmon (lox) with sour cream

Maria's mother's signature salad (lettuce, tomato, red pepper, and lemon juice)

Beef and chicken kebab, baked potato, and grilled corn on the cob

Jarlsberg cheese

Brown cheese, a Norwegian specialty, has a slightly sweet taste and is very soft.

This was the most common Norwegian cheese that we ate on almost every thing. It was slightly less mild than swiss cheese.

Bread stuffed with beef, egg, and onion. I think this was a dish that Maria's mom had from Turkey.

Fresh seafood in the Bergen fish market

Fjord Fun

2007-06-20T11:27:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Oslo on Tuesday with no idea where I was going to go from the airport. My general plans were to meet up with Maria, my Norwegian friend that I met last fall while studying abroad in Egypt, and stay with her family. I had emailed Maria a month or two ago and had solid dates for when I would be in Norway and even knew the flight time and number. BUT I still didn’t know Maria’s address (or even the area of Oslo she lived in!) or her telephone number. The night before my flight from Paris to Oslo, I scrambled (not only for a bed in Paris) to email Maria to see if she was going to meet me at the airport or if I was going to venture forth on Oslo public transport. Even five minutes before I boarded my flight Maria had not emailed me.

So, flying—metaphorically—without a net, I boarded the plane and made the quick jump to Oslo. Because I am traveling with one relatively small backpack, I can take it as carry-on luggage. It makes for very quick check-in and an even faster exit from airports. I cruised by the luggage carousel and customs (evidently, “Stamps in passports are not souvenirs!”) and was first to enter the welcome hall. A crowd of blonde-haired Norwegian girls was standing directly in front of the door and all gasped and then sighed in unison as I walked through the door—apparently, I was not who they were waiting for.

Luckily, I found Maria behind the pack of tow-white hair and we took the next bus into town. Maria is going to tease me for writing this because it seemed to be the only thing that came out of my mouth for my first couple of days here, but the Norwegian countryside is so beautiful. On just the bus ride in, the bright green color was remarkable with accents of purple flowers. The mountains, even in Oslo, are beautiful and the harbor and bay are beautiful.

My introduction to Norwegian culture came through Maria’s family. Maria’s family is unique because both of her parents are Turkish and immigrated to Norway about twenty years ago. Her parents are from the western part of Turkey and actually speak Aramaic, the language of Jesus that is spoken by only a small number of people in the world. The movie, The Passion of Christ, was entirely in Aramaic but Maria’s brother said the actors’ accents and grammar were horrible. Maria’s father works in the administration at their church and they live in an apartment attached to the church building. Maria’s mother, on the other hand, seemed to be working for me because she cooked so much for the hungry traveler.

Maria has one older brother who works and lives in Stockholm, one younger brother, Saliba, and one younger sister, Sandra. Saliba graduated high school last year and has been fulfilling his mandatory national services at an organization called Norwegian Church Aid. Every 18 year old male in Norway must do some form of national service, be it in the military or in an approved non-governmental organization. Sandra is in elementary school and just started learning English a year ago. She quickly became my Norwegian tutor and we practiced back and forth. She was definitely the more advance student and often said, “Nick, you-are-a-lose-ER.”

My first day in town, Maria took me on a grand tour. We visited the park with distinctive Norwegian sculptures, the harbor, the palace, the National Theater, and the Parliament. It was a great orientation and helped me know the setup of the city for my interviews over the next couple of days.

I like the statues in the park because they don’t have the Greek or Italian Renaissance look at all. Coming from the Louvre, it was big contrast but very Scandinavian. I think I read that Gustav Vigeland studied many of Rodin’s works, some of which I had seen the previous day. There are several statues out of almost 100 statues that most people have seen. The first is “the Grumpy One,” as Maria translated it. The other is the very tall monolith carved out of one solid piece of granite; it appears as a pile of people all struggling to reach the top and no one looks happy. Surrounding the monolith are many smaller sculptures, each depicting people in the mists of their personal struggle and individual lives.

Maria agreed to translate for my interviews and also help in arranging the appointments. It takes almost a full day of calling and tracking down individuals to get two days worth of interviews. Maria not only translated during interviews but also for her mother and father. For only studying English in high school, Maria is amazing at going back and forth between English, Norwegian, and Aramaic. I could pick out words from Aramaic that are the same in Arabic (Aramaic is in the same family as Arabic and Hebrew) but some times I couldn’t tell the difference between Aramaic and Norwegian.

Today in Stockholm, I asked the receptionist if ‘takk’ (pronounced ‘tuck’) meant thank you in Swedish as well as Norwegian. She said yes but that Swedes don’t say it as happy as Norwegians do. It is true, though. Norwegian has more bounce to it than Swedish; Icelandic, on the other hand, sounded like they were playing basketball with their tongues.

On Saturday, we went on a tour of a fjord near the center of Norway. Fjords are the most Norwegian thing I have found, except for maybe brown cheese and you’ll have to wait for the food post to hear about that one. We took the 8 AM train from Oslo to Myraid. It was about five hours but was so picturesque. The train climbed its way through the mountains of Norway and really put to shame what I called beautiful before. All along the way are small cottages sprinkled on the ridges. The mountains are so dramatic; the buildings look like they should not even be able to cling to the mountains. Near the end of the ride, the train approaches the summit of the mountains. The train weaves through glaciers and around glacial lakes. The train station at the top is the highest in Europe.

We boarded another train that descended into one of the valleys. The train was completely packed with tourists. Everyone got excited around each turn and a million cameras went off each time. After about three or four turns, I was getting sick of the same photo and packs of people. The train stopped at a huge waterfall and everyone filled out for pictures. Then suddenly, majestic music came on and a woman appeared very close to the waterfall. The crowd cheer with entertainment when they realized it was one of the characters from Norwegian folklore, Huldra. Huldra is a mythical forest creature with long blonde hair and a tail. Maria commented on what a good summer job this girl had and we laughed at the cheesiness that pleases tourists.

At the bottom of the valley, we found the town of Flåm and our ferry. We got chairs near the back of the boat, perfect for viewing the fjords on the sunny day. The boat started off into the fjord and some of our fellow travelers decided to feed the sea gulls. At first, it was very intense because there were so many birds in one area, but that was the problem. The whole time I kept thinking, “Don’t go to the bathroom on me! Don’t go to the bathroom on me!” The feeding died down for a bit but then a young boy sitting next to me started feeding the varmints. I thought it would be quick but instead the boy made tiny balls of bread to make the feeding last longer, along with my torment.

The fjords are so intense; just one of the fjords or one of the mountains would be a national park in the States. But the fjord near Flåm is one of the biggest in Norway and goes on for kilometers and kilometers with side fjords and waterfalls every other second. Interspersed along the fjord were many small villages. The only way I can imagine getting there is by boat. A few were up on the bluff in almost unreachable locations. There was a tour guide giving dates and names in many different languages over a loudspeaker. It was difficult to hear but each city was directly identified by the date the village church was built.

After the ferry, we took a bus out of the valley. This required a steep climb snaking back and forth up the one lane road. The bus engine strained to make it to the top and hummed very loud. After that we took another train to Bergen and spent the next day there. Maria’s family lives in Oslo but she went to school at the University of Bergen (she just graduated, mabrook!).

Bergen is a 'quaint town’ as several tourists from Texas told us. It has a small-town-feel because the buildings are not very tall, the city center is organized around the harbor, and it has maintained the fishing village architecture in parts of the city. It rained 98 days straight last year and we caught one of them this year. I think it added to the experience because “it’s so Bergen” but I was lucky that it was nice for the fjord trip.

More pictures:

Oslo harbor

Fountain near the National Theater

The Norwegian Royal Palace

Olympic Ski Jump

Traditional Norwegian Lutheran church

Switching trains on our way to Flåm

The seagulls

Viking gear

Yes, Harry Potter

View of Bergen from one of the seven surrounding mountains

Church in Bergen

Troll attack! *

*This, obviously, is not Huldra because it is lacking the blonde hair and tail and feminine features.

Bergen street

Graffiti art in Bergen

Research in France

2007-06-17T05:54:00.000-07:00

I have placed this post in chronological order with events and research as they occurred, but, as many will have noticed, not on the actual date of posting to the internet. For the sake of posterity, I hope most will notice this and several other new entries.

I have been struggling over the last couple of weeks about how much to write about my research in the blog. I am trying to maintain anonymity for my interviewees, while also giving information about the communities. It is a difficult balancing act that I am sure will be worked out in my final paper and following thesis. I was and am hesitant to post about theories that have not yet solidified in my research and hope readers will forgive me for being silent on the subject the last few weeks.

My research in France began with a rather frustrating beating of the bushes for the groups I had identified from across the pond. The timing of my visit put me with only two working days (Thursday and Friday) of research before most potential interviewees would not be in their offices and unwilling to sit for an interview. I went with Lili (my friend and translator) to the Institut du Monde Arabe without an appointment. The grand and imposing building sits next to the Seine River, reeking of oil money but oozing beautiful modern architecture. The Institut looks out over Paris toward the Notre Dame Cathedral.

Personally, I found the Institut’s building symbolic of part of the Muslim community in Paris and greater France: the building combines the traditional structure of mosques (grand columns and a central courtyard) with modern building materials (concrete, glass, and steel). To add to its uniqueness, the side of the building facing the sun is outfitted with "geometric motifs" that resemble traditional Arabic window shades. The geometric shades adjust according to the amount of sunlight and are now controlled by light sensors. To get back to the symbolism, though, there is a part of the French Muslim (and mostly Arab) community that has found a way to combine both their religious structure and modern-looking civil society associations. I emphasize part because my research also showed many individuals who did not turn to civil society organizations for services.

To mine and Lili’s surprise, we found a booked titled, “A Guide to the Arab World in France” in the Institut’s bookstore. This book contained of over 500 pages of organizations correlated by subject and location. Here was the type of well-organization, prolific, and innovative group that I had been looking for and one that fits the symbolism mentioned before. Although, theoretically and practically non-religious, the Institut serves so many French Arabs that are Muslim that I cannot ignore it as a valuable resource for the Muslim community I am investigating. The Guide was published by the Institut in 2005 and is an ideal publication that members of the Muslim community could use without much difficulty to find the services they need. Ranging from funeral service groups to interfaith association, the book gave me (and hopefully many Muslims) lots of choice when selecting which organizations to visit.

One frustrating area of my research was been that it was difficult to find people who actually use the organizations I’m looking at. In Paris, Lili and I went to the Grand Mosque of Paris and stood outside talking with people as they came out of prayer. The general feeling was that there were organizations but out of the people we spoke with no one had used any of the organizations. This is something my research cannot measure; of course, six days in Paris does not provide statistical data on the number of people using Muslim organizations. It did provided qualitative data that many of the Muslim immigrants that we talked with used their informal networks of family and friends to get acquainted with French society. It also speaks to the difficulty I have experienced when trying to get fellow students to come to university organization events—it is difficult to get people to participate in organizations of all types.

Other more general characteristics of the organizations I spoke with while in Paris were strong and experienced leadership, good contact and dialogue between religious groups, well funded, and government supported. There also seems to be a highly developed interfaith dialogue in France, particularly on the academic side. Two individuals I spoke with made clear how far interfaith understanding has come in academia—the difficulty now is to transfer that knowledge to the broader public and into action.

One last thing that is striking is the eagerness that individuals want to talk with me. Yes, I have had several people refuse appointments but the individuals I have met with and the Muslims I have met in or outside of mosques are almost giddy to tell their story. It may be the ‘out-of-the-ordinary’ factor from a foreigner, let alone an American, asking questions about themselves but I think it speaks to something more broadly. In many respects, the United States has been seen by the world as a unilateral force that listens to no one, but from another perspective, Muslims have been a community (particularly, minority Muslim communities) that have been ignored and not listened to. Perhaps, this is also something my research is addressing.