Visiting Spain and Time Travel

When I was sixteen years old, I sat in my English class flipping through an art book when I came across the most stunning photograph I'd ever seen. What's that? I asked Ms. Bruno. The Alhambra, she replied. Built by Muslims in Spain generations ago. I gazed at the fountain with lions, the intricate artwork decorating the ceilings and said to myself I want to see this for myself some day. Years later, June 2001 I saw a flier on campus calling teachers to teach English in Spain. I'm going, I resolved. The summer after my first year of teaching I'm there.

Of course, as life continues to teach me, what I plan and the actuality of what He has destined for me may not align. July 2001 I met K, and July 2002, the summer of Spain, I married him [and to be clear, I'd have it no other way!]. Since then, the desire to see Spain continues to beat in my heart but we plan our vacations using a pragmatic method: The world is beautiful, lets fly to where its cheapest! In this way we've been blessed to see many countries such as Turkey, France, Costa Rica, etc. but Spain to date has not shown up on the list of affordable countries. Until now.

Monday we leave for Madrid, Spain. From Madrid we drive South to Granada, Cordova, Seville, and small towns along the way. [If you've been to Spain and have advice, please share!] I'm reading Ornament of The World, a fantastic book about Medieval Spain and how beautifully Muslims, Jews, and Christians once lived together. [Thanks Baraka!]. While I'm excited I also feel pensive. To visit Spain is to visit the ghosts of the past. I read how there was a time that people were considered uncivilized if they hailed from outside the Muslim Empire. What a reversal it is now. As our trip inches closer I realize why my heart seems to pull me to Spain. I want to travel back in time. I want to close my eyes as I stand in the Grand Mosque and imagine what was. I want to stand before the Alhambra and look out at the horizon as others before me. To be in the presence of what they built, is to be in the tangible presence of the past. I think Islam is undergoing an identity crisis. The unity of Al-Andalus is crushed and we are scattered across the earth like shards of glass. Reading about the invention of Algebra, the tolerance for other faiths, and the beautiful things that were once accomplished, I can't help but feel sad for what was. I am going to Spain to time travel. I'm visiting Spain to understand who we once were.

Neda Soltan, 1982-2009

The elections in Iran are ugly though I'm sure most of you already knew. Neda, 26, and unarmed died from a bullet shot by a soldier. The country where she died won't let her family speak out nor allow them to put up the banners of mourning. She was buried quickly but she won't be quickly forgotten. In Iran, posting her pictures on websites is forbidden, so today I post a tribute for those who can't. I hope her struggles, and others like her will not be in vain. To contact your congress person about the issues overseas, click here.

And it gets worse.

Overhead at the Coffee Shop

I'm sitting at a coffee shop catching up on some work. There is a well dressed man in his late forties sitting at the table across from me nursing a coffee and typing away on his computer [I'll name him Jack]. A few minutes ago one of his friends walks in, orders coffee and sits across from him. [Bill].

B: So whatcha up to these days?
J: Sending out resumes and looking at paint colors to fix up the house.
B: You moving?
J: Trying to avoid getting kicked out is more like it.
B: Resumes though? I heard you got a job.
J: I did but its part-time, I need a 40 hour a week gig.
B: Whatcha doin now? Still in real estate?
J: No, at the moment I'm working in the area of culinary logistics.
B: Culinary logistics, what's that?
J: I deliver pizzas for Dominoes.
B: Ah, that MBA coming in handy eh?

I see Jack and I see the hundreds of thousands of others like him. If they stood side by side they'd spill into the parking lot, down the street, curving around the block. So many people, yet each suffering unique pain. I have felt the sting of unemployment and know how deeply it can embed into your pscyhe, taking with it your sense of identity. I shake my head and return to work but his pain has left a tinge on my own heart. I hope he will be okay. I hope we as a country will overcome this crisis.

Labeling Aisha

Labels. We all use them. The honorable Judge Judy. Dr. Bob Bobullah, M.D. etc. Sometimes I am addressed as Aisha Iqbal, BA, MA, JD. Sometimes, Aisha Iqbal, Esquire. Last week I got a kick when a client sent me a letter and addressed it, Miss Aisha, Attorney at Law. Today I got some books in the mail from someone who connected with me via my blog. When I saw the address label:

Aisha Iqbal,
Perpetually Befuddled
XXX XXXX Lane
XXX, XX 54321

I had two reactions (1) I looked at it long and hard and (2) marveled at how this label was more accurate at capturing my essence than any other label I've thus far received. Me thinks I need to make some new business cards!

Ode to Powell's Book Store

I've always wanted to live in Portland. Even before I visited. I loved the idea of a biker's city with coffee shops and the mountains and the ocean just around the corner. My family heard this and shook their head. You say you want to live in San Francisco. Asheville. Hawaii. OFCOURSE you want to live in Portland too. I stand by my statements. I do love SF, Asheville and Hawaii, and to live in any is a dream come true. However, Oregon is special, and visiting did not disappoint from the delicious oatmeal pancakes at Bijou Cafe (Thanks Baraka!) to the delicious coffee and lovely waterfalls. Portland is awesome just for these things alone but what takes it to the top of the charts, what makes Portland the rockstar of all cities is Powell's Book Store: the largest bookstore in the world.

If you read this blog, you know I love books. Growing up, my quiet thrill each week was going to the library and choosing the books that would be mine to treasure for the week they lived in my home. While my brothers groaned over reading assignments, I devoured their novels entirely in the time it took them to organize their desk space. My point: I love them books.

Powell's is a magical place for a bookworm. It covers a city block and the store feels much like a maze. Each section has a different color. There is the purple room, the red room, the pearl room, and so on. Used books and new books sit side by side. They even have food in the coffee shop. Seriously, what need does one have to leave save for a spouse who might want to see more of the city than just a bookstore?

I'm a writer. I know the blood, sweat and tears that go into creating a manuscript. When I stood before all those books, row after row towering over me, so many books it would surpass my lifetime to get through each of them, I felt moved. There is something powerful about being amongst so many words. Words that writers pored over. Chapters they revised. Sacrifices they made. Each book, a dream realized. Perseverance paid off.

I dream of returning to Portland on a sunny summery day much like the day I came. I dream of oatmeal pancakes, and Mio's gelato but my heart skips a beat when one day I may return to a certain store in the Pearl District by the name of Powell's. I hope when I return, my book will be amongst those on its lustruous shelves.

Five Years of Blogging!

I began this blog chronicling my angst regarding law school and random thoughts that came and went. My readers consisted of my father and friend Huda. How far my blogging has come. This blog has been my place to work through my thoughts, and to connect with like minded people. I never could have known when I began that through blogging I would make friends, lose friends, discover myself, and gain confidence in my writing. There are days that I consider quitting. How long can I keep this up after all? Will I be 90 years old hunched over a computer chronicling my thoughts on this and that? I'm not sure about that but I think I will keep blogging until I no longer want to. Right now, I still want to.

I've noticed that though I have the same number of readers, the comments have grown sparse. That's okay, but today, if you are reading this I have a favor. In honor of my five year anniversary, could you please drop a note in the comments. I'd love to know who you are, how long you've been reading, and why you've stuck around, what your favorite post was... anything really. It's just nice to hear from you. You don't have to but it would sort of make my day.

Since its a five year anniversary I thought I'd share five of my favorite/most talked about posts that I've written incase you missed them:

1. The Desi Marriage Crisis
2. The Skin Thing
3. Lonely? Tazo tea will come through for you!
4. Discrimination from Within
5. On Apples