There's a Praying Mantis on my fern...

Actually, the title of the post sums the situation up pretty well. I found a praying mantis living on my fern. I guess it makes sense since it's in the living room. (BWHWHAHAA!)

Ok, seriously though, he was pretty cool to look at. I was watering the fern when I saw some movement towards the bottom, and when I looked closer, it turned out to be a small, off-white praying mantis climbing up one of the fronds. Neat, but I already have two flatmates and would prefer not to have one of the insect variety.

I grabbed a piece of paper and nudged him onto it, whereby I gently let him out the living room window onto our air conditioner box. He's in God's hands now; I just hope the cats don't get him...

Commemmoration of the Ascension of Abdu'l-Baha

Last night we commemmorated the passing of Abdu'l-Baha on November 28 1921. The holy day observance is always at midnight because that is when his soul ascended to the Abha kingdom. Although for most Baha'i holy days work is suspended the following day, Abdu'l-Baha requested that his birthday and his ascension not be considered holy days as such. So work is not suspended on his ascension night, and instead of celebrating his birthday, we celebrate the Day of the Covenant instead (also in November).

It was a beautiful service, held in the Concourse of the Seat of the Universal House of Justice. The readings were eloquent, the atmosphere solemn, and afterwards all 1100 attendees stood on the steps of the Seat and reverently faced the Shrine of the Bab and Abdu'l-Baha for the recitation of the Tablets of Visitation.

We silently made our way down from the Seat to the Shrine itself in order to circumabulate the premises before ending up in front of the Haifa Pilgrim House for the inevitable Kodak moments. Here are a few gratutitous shots:

The air outside the Shrine as I was walking to the Pilgrim House smelled faintly of watermelon and jasmine blossoms. It was heavenly, and I remember thinking how incredibly fortunate I am to have the opportunity to serve here and be this close to the holiest spots on earth. Last night was magical and, although exhausted, I was thoroughly pleased to have been there.

Lost on the 32

I got lost on the bus today.

I was feeling sick and decided to head home early. So I went to the bus stop near the office, and the first bus to swing by was the 32. Now, I am aware that the 32 stops almost directly in front of my house, I'm just not sure what the actual route is. But I was fairly confident that it would head up Hatzionut, turn on Tchernikovski and loop back around to Beth El after a few minutes. So I hopped on the bus to see exactly where it would take me before it took me home.

It didn't take me home, I can tell you that much.

The 32 swung down Bethlehem and into an area that I have never been to before. It's a nice area on the mountain overlooking the bay, but it wasn't exactly where I wanted to be. But I figured the bus had to loop around at SOME point because where else was it supposed to go out that way? Well, the bus was looping all right, but not where I wanted to go.

I ended up riding the bus alone in a Russian/Jewish (?) section called Ramat Shual. The roads all looped back and forth onto each other, and I felt like I was going in circles. Until the bus pulled up to a stop in the middle of nowhere and motioned to me that this was the end of the line. Slicha? Pardon? THIS is the end of the line? Where am I?!!? I had no choice but to disembark and await another bus to take me home. (Or close to it. At this point I was sort of desperate.)

At least I recognised the bus lines at this particular bus stop. I realised I could take the 26 or the 115 and those should theoretically get me back to where I wanted to be. Of course, theory I realised, was what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. *Sigh* So I was feeling sick and tired and discombobulated from the bus ride, but finally the 26 showed up. I boarded the buse and said a little prayer that this one was going to be a through ride. After about ten minutes I started to recognise street names again. Emile Zola, Stephen Wise, Victor Hugo - I knew I was getting somewhat close. (Yeah, I know they're weird street names but what can you do? At least they're famous.)

Finally, FINALLY, I was able to get off on Tchernikovski directly out front of our beloved 24-flower shop (which has its own unique and unusual story to tell), and I made it home safe and sound. And now I am sitting on my bed, poring over a street map of Haifa, trying to figure out where the heck I travelled to.

One thing I learned on my unplanned expedition - Adam is wrong. Avigdor Hame'iri is not where our trusty gas station is. It's where I got lost, where Tchernikovski turns into Stella Maris.
Hmmmmm...

ESP (no, not the sports channel...)

My mom and I are psychically connected.

I know, I know, scary but true!

I've been rather fluish and sick the past days, and on Wenesday I called home to Mom because I like to whine to my parents when I'm ill. Makes me feel better somehow. Mom wasn't home, so I left a message on her machine saying I'm sick and want some affection.

So about an hour later I get a call on our home line (which no one ever calls because who uses their home line when they have a cell phone?). It's Mom, and she's wondering how I am because she was "just thinking of me." I tell her of course she's been thinking about me; she got my message and was calling me back. Wrong. Apparently her answering machine is all wonky and doesn't let her receive most of her messages anyway. So she didn't even know I had called an hour before; she just knew she was thinking of me and had the urge to call.

I know what you're thinking - "So what? That doesn't mean jack squat; it's all coincidence." Ok, then smartypants, how about what happened the next day?...

I wanted to talk to Mom again, even though I had just talked to her the day before. Call it what you will, I just wanted to hear her voice. So I dialled her, thinking she was probably already out for the day, and wouldn't you know it, she was there. And astounded, because it turned out I had called her right as she was trying to think of an ending to a poem she was writing about me.

?!?!?!

Mom read me what she had written so far in the poem, and it was all about me as a child and the adorable things I had done and how I am now "seven hours different and half a world away." Now, I don't know about you, but I got chills at that one. I couldn't believe I had the urge to call home right at the exact moment my mom was wracking her brain trying to finish a poem dedicated to me.

So, we're psychic, and that's that. Mom and I have a bond that transcends physical limitations and I think that's pretty darn cool.

Stopping to Smell the Roses...or Hibiscus...

I was behind the Seat today, walking back from Bracha Habas. There are a bunch of hibiscus trees that line the walkway, and the flowers are a glorious shade of red. While stopping to savour them, I noticed something rustling in the leaves. Out popped a gorgeous little hummingbird!

The hummingbird was definitely female, since she wasn't brightly coloured, but she was still beautiful. She was flitting around from flower to flower, zipping back and forth across the pathway. She nipped behind each hibiscus and drank some nectar, then she flew off.

It was nice to take some time and just enjoy being out and about in Israel. Sometimes it's easy to forget where I am and why I'm doing this job, but it's times like these when I really feel like I'm in the Holy Land.

Weird Conversations

I have them. Weird conversations, that is. I know most people probably wouldn't believe half the things I randomly have conversations about, but believe me when I say that most of them should have been recorded for posterity.

My most random conversations tend to occur when I hang out with John Michael and Jayce. We're El Tries Amigos Locos (I think that means the crazy three amigos). We've talked about everything from Nazi chickens to protruding escarpments to hair juice. You know what's a weird topic? Whether hair juice might be as good as carrot juice.

Today at lunch I had a great conversation with some friends about creating our own amphibious vehicles and whether they should come equipped with projectile launchers. The best projectile we came up with? Jelly beans. Yeah, that's right. I told Carla she would be the most popular mom in the world if she showed up to pick her kids up at school and shot jelly beans at the other children. The conversation then turned to optometry and occupational therapy as prospective job fields. I'm not even kidding; you can't make stuff like this up.

Kat thinks I'm absolutely bonkers when I get on a rant about something completely and utterly ridiculous, but I figure if you can't be ridiculous with your friends, when can you? And besides, everyone who's ever met me knows I'm definitely eccentric (or nuts), so why fight it?

Fesenjoon

So I'm on the bus home after work chatting with Kamran on my cell, when I see Iman standing in the intersection across from my house waiting for the light to turn. I wave hysterically at him through the bus window, and I know he sees me but is not quite sure WHO exactly he's seeing. I motion him over to the bus stop, where I dismount and he comes over to say hi.

Now at this point, it is important to note that we had previously had a conversation in the Food Centre not twenty-four hours ago about how he was extremely disappointed that I had not invited him to my flat for a visit since we have been here. Therefore God, according to His wonderfully mysterious ways, arranged for us to meet on the street just beyond my building. Fate.

I tell him to come over and hang out, and he shows me the food processor he just acquired from one of the ladies here at the World Centre. Sweet. So with the food processor in tow, we head back to my place to "stir up" a little trouble. Kat was home when we arrived, and was just about to cook something for dinner, so Iman offered to whip up a little fesenjoon.

Ok, there is some sort of weird phenomenon here at the World Centre where everyone seems to be a little fesenjoon-obsessed. Granted, it is quite a delicious dish of chopped walnuts, pomegranate paste and chicken, but everyone really goes crazy for it. And it's funny to me how many different versions of it there actually are. Kat and Iman had an amusing (to me) discussion about how their fesenjoon recipes were so vastly different...
"I add my paste to the chicken and let it simmer to thicken."
"Well, I cook them separately and add them together on the plate."
"You leave the onions in with the chicken?"
"You don't?"
"Do you want me to leave the onions in?"
"Not if you don't want to. But I eat them separately."
..that sort of thing.

Well, now Iman cannot claim that I have not invited him over to my flat for a real visit. It was quite lovely having a nice gentleman come by and cook some fesenjoon goodness for the ladies. Next time I'll have to do ghormeh sabzi if I really want to impress.

Beth El Dinner Party!

Kat invited a small group of our friends over for a nice homecooked meal at our place to celebrate Roya and her brother Navid being here on pilgrimage. We had a great time hanging out together, eating fantastic Persian food, and watching some Flight of the Conchords comedy on the laptop.

It was nice to be able to have everyone over to relax, laugh, be with each other. It was also the first real party I'd had the energy for since my surgery, so that made it pretty special.

We all love to laugh, and everyone thinks they're a comedian. Sometimes it's just good to sit back and have a good bellylaugh and not worry about being ridiculous. Hence the Flight of the Conchords bit, I suppose...


I just had to add this picture since it was one of the funniest of the night. The camera wasn't set to the timer, so when Kat pressed the button, none of us were quite ready. Navid, Lucia, and I all gave it a rousing two thumbs up! :)

Working At The Carwash...la la la...

Got to wash the Accommodations car today!

We had too much fun; I had to drive the large Subaru into a narrow carwash slot designed for a lesser car, and try not to smash up the new bumper. I got to spray that sucker down with a sawed-off garden hose, but I had to avoid getting Adam sopping wet since he was trying to wash the tires on the other side. I think we both got a little moistened.

One of my buddies (who shall remain nameless) came by while we were finishing up. I didn't even realise he was there watching until I almost backed up onto him. He said he was "just enjoying the view", because apparently a woman washing a car is one of the hottest things on the planet. Ha ha! Me in my rolled-up dress pants and dirty sneakers trying to hose down a boat of a car with a garden hose. Too sexy.

Looks like we'll have to do the whole thing again relatively soon, because the desert sand and general bird/bat poop tends to accumulate pretty quickly on the cars here. Good times...