Why can’t we eat books?

It’s Koninginnenacht tonight, so here’s a story to mark the occasion…

While wandering the streets of Den Haag today, I came upon a store called, “Boekhandel en Antiquariaat” (“Booktrader and Antiquarian”).  Sitting there on a display shelf was a beautiful 1976 edition of Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyyat, the famous English rendition by Edward Fitzgerald.

I stopped dead in my tracks and stared, transfixed.  Like a whore in an Amsterdam window, it beckoned to me with its crimson leather cover and Indianesque lithographs, whispering, “I’m only €16…”

“But that translates to $26,” I protested.  “That’s a week’s worth of food!  I’m not exactly making a lot of money here in the Netherlands and I need to save up for tuition at Leuven.”

“Ah, my cute little intellectual.  Who needs to munch on crumbs and cheese when you can devour words of wisdom?” retorted the tomeful temptress.

Thus enticed, I enterred the store in the hopes of haggling, only to discover, to my horror, that if there’s one nation on the earth that wholly, utterly lacks the bazaar mentality, it’s the Dutch.  I explained how happy I would be to purchase the book, but as a poor student and even more impoverished journalist all I could afford would be, say, €10, tops.  My negotiation attempt was met with the Netherlands’ legendary vermanende vinger (wagging finger).

The elderly clerk, with daggers of disdain in her eyes, then inquired, “Why do you even want this book?”

“Because I study Islam,” I answered frankly.

“Islam?” she exclaimed, then shook her head sadly, as though she were saying to herself, Mijn gott, heidense een andere.  Finally, with a heavy sigh, she asked, “Do you want it or not?”

I rubbed my hands.  The crimson cover seemed to wink at me, whispering, “I accept Visa or Mastercard.”

No!  I had to resist the impulse to buy!  Baha’u'llah teaches us to be sacrificing, diligent, and disciplined, and so I turned away, hand upon my brow in consternation.  As I stumbled out of the store, I nearly tripped over someone’s sleeping child, carefully forgotten in a stroller right smack in the middle of the doorway.  I wondered to myself, What the hell is wrong with this country?  Leaving kids in doorways, refusing to haggle for books — I’m a long way from America or the Middle East.  And while I’m at it, why, O God, can’t we drink ink instead of wine and eat ideas instead of bread?

Around town in Den Haag

Hi everyone!  As promised, some photos from downtown Den Haag and environs.  You can view the entire set at my Flickr account, and unlike my South Africa photos, they’re in order!    As my time here continues, I’ll add more to the account and to this blog.

The Stadhuis (City Hall). The kites were made by immigrant children.

Review: Caprica

The shape of things to come?

Just took another long stroll through downtown Hague, only a few blocks from my apartment.  Leave it to me that one of the first Nederlanders I get to talking with turns out to be a radical Tamil nationalist from Sri Lanaka hahaha.  As I mentioned in my last post, I took a few minutes Sunday evening to watch the uncut pilot episode of the Battlestar Galactica spin-off series, Caprica. What follows is my first-ever television review (lite spoilers ahead)…

Taut, introspective, and very, very adult; much more mature than its predecessor series, which is saying a lot — Caprica is brimming with potential.  Where Battlestar Galactica, quite controversially, seemed to return to its Mormon theological roots, Caprica, although set 58 years prior to the events of the original show, seems to be reaching forward toward the Techological Singularity prophecied by futurists since the 1950s.  Questions about morality and belief, the value (and undermining) of family and multicultural democracy, and the nature of humanity and transhumanity, abound in a dense hour and thirty minutes.

Yoga in the morning, Den Haag in the evening…

Well, I arrived in the Netherlands two days ago and have set up camp in the Hague (Den Haag). The geography is striking with its orderliness: canals abound and one is never more than a tram-ride away from the North Sea, but everything is in neat lines, even the trees and cows (no joke).  Also, there are bicycle-riders galore — they even have special sidewalks designated for bikes and scooters!*

I’ve been mostly housebound due to intense jet lag and sheer physical exhaustion (during my last two weeks in the USA, between Utica, Philly, and NYC, I went back and forth over nearly 1000 miles, only to topped it all off with a delayed 11-hour flight). However, I ventured out for a few hours yesterday just to scope the scene.  I discovered that not only is the Hague remarkably flat and remarkably pretty, but the people here seem to have an aversion to eye contact.

Since I don’t have a Dutch gym memberhsip, and it’s too damp to jog (not to mentoon I’ve no MP3 player at the moment),  I’ll be doing Yoga every morning, instead (I have this nifty little book called “Yoga To Go,” a gift from a cousin or a girlfriend, I can’t remember…)  Then I’ll be getting to work on CyberChaikhana.  This evening I’ll wander around some more; perhaps find a coffee shop, cozy up next to a book, and see if I can’t get someone in this city to actually look me in the eyes.

So long, Philly

Well, today is my last day in the City of Brotherly Love.  I’ve spend the better part of the last decade here.  So many memories.  My first love, my second and third (haha), La Salle University, the City Paper, East Passyunk, the Bahai community… 

Insha’allah, I will return.  But I’m leaving the future open, trying to embrace uncertainty.  I believe that existence and faith are the same; what binds them together — indeed, what defines them — is courage, the willingness to embrace change.   To sacrifice our fears as much as our hopes, to surrender our anxiety as much as our attachments, this is the quintessence of faith; if nothing else, it is the only way to evolve, survive, and thrive.

As I was with Moses, so shall I be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you.  Be strong and courageous…

– Joshua 1:5-6

No man shall attain the shores of the ocean of true understanding except he be detached from all that is in heaven and on earth.

– Baha’ullah, Kitab-i-Iqdas

It’s time to step away from the shore and swim, let the waves and winds guide me where they may.

“Leaving on a jet plane…”

…so goes the song. Next Friday, April 24th, is the big day: ready or not, Europe, here I come!

I’ve been extremely busy preparing for my move to Europe.  As you can see by the photo, dismantling my life in Philadelphia has been a process not too dissimilar from the eruption of Vesuvius that destroyed Pompei (and don’t even get me started about all the paperwork I’ve had to complete on this side of the Atlantic).  The plan is for the book to be completed once I’m in the Netherlands with Ben; will keep you all posted.

Meanwhile, barcamp Central Asia 2009 has been a resounding success.  Check out our round-up on the event (ENG).

“Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides, / How often have you sailed in my dreams.  And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream. /Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.”  — Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

Rocking the casbah @ barcamp

Above: Talking about neweurasia at the Almaty barcamp.  Click here to see the photos in full size.  Read coverage of the event by Mursya (ENG, RUS) and Elena (ENG, RUS).   The powerpoint presentation is available via SlideShare (ENG), and to view more photos, check out the barcamp blog (ENG, RUS).

Mursya reports on regular media coverage of the event (ENG, RUS).  Meanwhile, Musa reports on the Caspian region’s own barcamp event (ENG, RUS).