Slow down! You're moving too fast...

Happy Last Day of September to all who celebrate!

In our family we apparently celebrate by...moving...because today was the day we moved out of the hotel (more or less) and into our apartment and today was the day that Rachel moved into the MTC (missionary training center).

What did you do to celebrate? (If you didn't move, it doesn't count.)

Andrew, Miriam, and I stayed up far too late packing up virtually everything in our hotel room and getting it ready to cart downstairs. Here's a shot Miriam took of our things in the hotel room:

Shifting and walking scientists

Shifting, as they call it here, is no joke! Moving across the city is certainly easier than trying to plan an international move...but there are still a lot of moving parts.

And I'm one of them!

I have maxed out my metro card three days running (each card is charged for a maximum of three rides per day—anything after that is free...and I have certainly been taking advantage of that this week). 

Yesterday Miriam and I carried big IKEA bags full of sheets and duvet inserts from the hotel to the apartment...while also dragging Phoebe along. It was...exhausting. 

And then today I packed up a big IKEA bag full of towels to take to the apartment (because we sure wished we'd have thought of bringing towels to the apartment yesterday). The towels were actually far lighter and much fluffier than the sheets and duvet inserts (which were packed rather tightly), so it felt much better to be carrying that through the metro. 

But then I also had on my backpack so I could do some work at the apartment (I have a proposal due tomorrow and a review due soon and homework due...all over the place). And the kids each had a backpack on. Only Phoebe didn't have a backpack—she carried her stuffed puppy Titus.

And still I wound up carrying her half the time. 

Moving In, Membership Station, and Personal Storytime

We got the keys to our apartment yesterday and to celebrate we went and got gelato. Both Benjamin and Alexander chose the black vanilla flavour (coloured with activated charcoal). It was rather horrifying to watch them eat it, but they said it tasted just fine (and, in fact, I think most of us sampled a little bit from their dishes).

How bazaar, how bazaar...

We went back for round two of volunteering at the service workers' bazaar this morning. This time our task was to arrange items in the category-sorted bins (last weekend's task) onto tables for people to shop from. Clothes were sorted out by size and gender, our family did a lot of toy and book sorting (which was somewhat difficult for some of our children, who are, by this point in time, feeling a little thirsty for toys themselves—we haven't had "stuff" for months now), and there were also kitchen supplies, linens, office supplies, and so forth. 

Exploding with happiness and medieval dolphins

We went to a birthday party this evening for a little friend of Phoebe's. There was an inflatable water slide that dumped the kids straight into the pool. Zoë knocked herself in the forehead with her knee during a failed cannonball. Phoebe swallowed a bunch of pool water and threw up all over the deck. Alexander broke his watch.

But...

They had an amazing time! 

Phoebe was overjoyed to get a birthday bag. She sang about it all the way to the uber (such a savvy kid—we all stared at the elevator, not quite sure what to do, and she just walked right up, punched the G and said, "G for ground! Going down!" so that solved that—to be fair, we had G, M, C, L, A, and B as options, in addition to the numbers. But G was the right call). 

"I'm so happy, happy, happy!" she sang as she got into the uber, which made the driver chuckle. "I am exploding with happiness!"

Call to prayer quiet

I went to the library by myself this evening for a book talk—entirely by myself. I got to read on the metro (since I wasn't keeping an eye on children), which meant I was only half paying attention to where I was, and was surprised to find my body leaning into the rhythm of the trip. I hardly had to think about where to go—when and how to switch trains—my feet just took me there on autopilot. 

I had a lovely chat with a woman from Iran/UK who came in just after me. 

And then got to listen to the book talk without having any little people interrupt me for any reason. It felt rather unusual. Our only interruption was the call to prayer, which sounds over the speaker system in the library. 

The author was in the middle of answering a question when the call to prayer began. He finished his sentence, then turned off his microphone and held it in his lap. And then interviewer did the same. The audience sat in silence, just listening to the call to prayer. 

Outside of the event hall we could hear the thrum of activity in the rest of the library, the buzzing of voices in the cafe area, the footfalls of people walking past the doorway. But inside the event all, it was the picture of tranquility. 

I once wrote a poem about how much I love the call to prayer—specifically in Cairo, the land of a thousand minarets—and how, since it wasn't specifically scheduled, the call would come to me helter-skelter, with different muezzins seeming to echo one another. And how I learned to even appreciate the dawn call to prayer, which would crackle through my window (we lived quite near to a mosque with a terrible sound system) and I would be up with baby Miriam and would hear the call to prayer and it felt so comforting to me...to know that I wasn't alone being up at that hour, that all around me in the city people were coming together to pray, and how I learned to take that moment to remember to pray myself...

And it felt very sacred and beautiful to write all this down.

And then my teacher was like, "This smacks of Orientalism" and discouraged me from publishing it (and rather encouraged me to leave off, not even revise, because it was an unredeemable poem). 

And...uh...that was crushing...because I typically rather value(d) her advice. And it isn't like I was making up crazy stuff in order to produce and perpetuate stereotypes. The call to prayer is...kind of a thing...

So, uh, I revised the poem anyway. And it did get published. And I think it's probably fine.

I find myself still so taken with the moments the call to prayer makes for me. And here was another beautiful moment where I was surrounded by a roomful of people who were, like me, suspended in time. 

Benjamin's poem drafts

 At the beginning of August (the 9th or so) Benjamin wrote these poem drafts:

Mirage. An illusion caused by heat.
The humid air condenses on the windows
forming an illusion of rain,
but there is no stead pitter patter of rain on the roof
the steady hum of air through the vents provides a
masquerade of wind in the trees out my window
it's an illusion of home
and it is my home.

Draft two:

Phoebe at the Fun Fair

Phoebe has been dreaming of riding on a ferris wheel (and in general to visit an amusement park) for quite some time and today that dream came true! 

Excerpts—it's what's for dinner!

We had a bit of a reverse school day today, spending the morning at the Gondolia Fun Fair with some friends and then the afternoon at home doing our lessons. It felt like an extravagance to take the kids to an amusement park, but as I was riding around on the carousel with Phoebe, I remembered many other times I'd taken my children on similar (contrived) adventures in the past. 

It's just not something we've done in the past...while. I'm not sure quite how long, but it's been years. Living in Georgia, specifically, such outings felt unobtainable (too costly, etc.). So this felt like a luxury (and is surely a luxury), but it's not entirely out of the ordinary...it simply feels like it because we haven't done anything like it in a long while. 

Drinking bubble solution (and neon green pee)

We finally got the purple water at the store! 

We were hesitant to buy it because it gives off serious "bubble solution" vibes, but it's just water! 

Phoebe started calling it the bubbly water, which was confusing because the kids have also taken a liking to sparkling water, which is also (actually) bubbly. When we pointed this out to her she started saying, "Pass the bubble solution!" 

So that's fun (and funny)! 

*****