Monday, November 18, 2013

libyan characteristics

As my time here has almost reached a whole six months, I noticed that there were several things that Libyans tend to do that I never realized before I came here. Besides the whole different culture, the Libyan people have strange little habits that I guess the obnoxious kids at my work would post to twitter followed by hashtags like #libyanprobz #libyanlyf #youknowyourlibyanif #saharansunset #couscouscrystalz.

The first one is the way that they tell time. I have never once ever heard anyone here say the exact time. In America, you ask the time and they will look at their watch. They'll answer with like 6:23 or 9:49. Here, you just automatically round up to the nearest fourth. I have tried many times before to tell people the exact time down to the minute, and they would just get a confused look on their face. Quickly changing my mistake, I would round 3:21 to half past three. It's really not that important, but I just found it weird. I mean, in a way, it tells you about the way they spend their time here. Time is not really all that valuable. If anyone here tells you they will be back in fifteen minutes with your order, you should just leave and order pizza or take-out. If you receive an invitation for a wedding that starts at seven, never show up at seven because you will be the only one there. Everyone shows up an hour to two hours late. If you are expecting your co-worker to bring you copies of work within five minutes, you can bet that that co-worker will surely bring back your copies. However, it will not be without stopping along the way, catching up with a few friends, asking about their family trees, and how their mom is doing, eventually leaving the entire time to add up to fifteen minutes. You should just get the copies yourself. And God forbid you actually want to know when your semester starts for college. It seems like it would be a reasonable question, but people never know. They just reply with Inshallah ( God willing) or Allah Ghalab (God is the winner, only he know the answers). Those replies will really help you know when to get your school supplies ready. In the end, the minutes don't count. People are usually just so surprised that anything ever gets done, forget about being on time.

The second one is the fact that stores are only open at two sets of times during the day. Six days of the week, if you need anything, whether it be clothes or groceries or medicine, the shops will only be open from eleven to two in the afternoon. Then, at two, the shopkeepers will close, and go home. They will have a big lunch since that is the most important meal here, and they will take a long nap. They will then go back to their stores at six in the evening and stay open until around nine. The exception is on Friday which is the Islamic holy day. Rarely anything is open on Friday and if it is, they will only open in the evening.

The last one is the way that they tell ages. If you ask anyone how old they are, you should know that they are adding an extra year. For Libyans, the second that January first comes around, everyone suddenly ages by a year. Instead of actually using their real birth date, Libyans use the new year as the way to tell their age. It's as if everyone was already born one year old. So if you come to Libya (I wouldn't advise it.) , just add an extra year to however old you are. If you want me to psychoanalyze this one (Yes Seema! Please, please, we love it!!), I would say that since over half of the Libyan population is under the age of 30, everyone here is so quick to age. They see their age as the key to freedom. Enjoying your youth is hard here. Everything is so restricted and everything you do is constantly being judged. Your age is directly correlated with your eligibility to get married which is the ticket to leaving your parents which is considered freedom.

And now for an abrupt stop because my brain juices aren't from concentrate after grading a kid's paper who just spelled the word 'go' as 'gow'. 

Monday, November 11, 2013

very englihs bad no.2








This isn't incorrect English. I just like how relaxed he looks.


Monday, November 4, 2013

che-yeah

Che Guevara is everywhere here. He's on the back of cars, he's on the cover of books, on posters, and especially on the shirts of twenty-something year old college guys. This is part one of the series, seeing as there is still a whole lot more Che for us to love.






Deodorant: revolutionary smells here we're talking about 

Friday, November 1, 2013

very englihs bad no.1

English is everywhere here and just when you seem to need it most, it usually ends up being spelled really badly or with incorrect grammar. This are the few occasions when I happened to have my phone with me and owners of companies and stores didn't even bother to look up corrections before mass producing and printing. 

A really needy makeup counter.
At least one of the countries was spelled right.

The Scented Salamander: Who doesn't want to smell like a perfumed amphibian?

This one is hard to see, but it's an advertisement for a lasik center and the motto is: 'Your eyes secretarial between our hand.'

My favorite, the car that this sticker was on wasn't even a BMW.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

a review of something i had in america that i got here and is slightly different: Starbucks


Something that I have been wanting to take a picture of recently was this Starbucks that they have here. The name sign of the coffee shop features a picture of what I assume to be the owner of the place, wearing black sunglasses and a smile so bright that it causes a clipArt star-burst to blow up from behind him. I didn't get to go inside because here in Libya they have a dumb rule that women can't go into coffee shops unless there is a designated family section, so this Starbucks is a real man's place. Just look at those yellow plastic chairs.




Thursday, October 24, 2013

Gadaffi graffiti


 Just some street art of the man who started it all.









Friday, October 18, 2013

roadtrip complaints



We went on a trip to Derna, a small city about a six hour drive away from Benghazi. I was shoved into the makeshift back seat that car manufacturers add almost as an afterthought. The whole ride there was filled with the really cheasy traditional Arabic music that they play so loud that your eardrums actually hurt and the incessant clapping that everyone in the car decides to start and then stop abruptly every 52 seconds. The
songs with lyrics like 
" oh tall one, 
oh tall one, 
show me your house so that I can go to it"
(it rhymes in Arabic)

My cousin does not like the air condition because it makes him sick so we rolled the windows down which let in a hazy mist of desert topsoil along with the wind to irritate my eyes. We finally stopped, after what seemed like two hours but was actually 45 minutes, at a little park and restaurant area made of stone. It looked nice and I was looking at an area of stone when I saw something crawling out of a crack in the stone wall, followed by two more similar things crawling out. They were rats.
My dad got me bitter soda telling me that I would love it. I tasted it and it just tasted like sugar water which had a really strange aftertaste that made the back of my throat feel like it needed to be aired out. As I am quoting from the bottle, the ingredients are: 
Carbonated water, sugar, acidfying agent: citric acid, E123, and natural flavoring
really appetizing 

So we went back into the car after I reluctantly ate a hamburger that was more dry bun that it was meat and I was yet again stuck in the far most back seat sandwiched in between my two sisters.When my dad and cousin pulled out their collective twentieth cigarette into the fourth hour of our trip, the sickly sweet smell of the tobacco gave me a bad headache.Throughout the trip, my aunt constantly turned around from her spacious middle seat to ask in broken English, "You see beach?" pointing to a long coastline of water. We'd be passing the coastline for another couple of minutes when she'd repeat the same question.
"Now you see beach?"

Still hungry, we got fresh flat bread that my family spread with half liquidated laughing cow cheese triangles, and my dad telling everyone in the car that it was honestly the best meal anyone could every have, half whispering like it was a secret recipe. My dad has a history of this, trying to make out simple, cheap things to be the best when you know he'd trade it in for a porterhouse steak in a heartbeat. On this same trip, my cousin told my dad that there would be only one bed in our hotel room so my sisters and I would share the bed and that he would have to sleep on the couch. My dad then proceeded to say that the floor is better, that sleeping on the floor "is even better than sleeping on a king size bed. I swear now I sleep on my big bed at home and I find myself wishing I were sleeping on the floor."

We stopped at a few places, for a walk around the beach and for some ancient roman ruins. Each time, our phones made more sound then we did. The shutter of the camera was constantly clicking away against a backdrop of blue skies and worrying teenage girls adjusting their hijabs.
We got to some areas that were owned by Islamists and Al Qaeda leaders. The only radio station in the area hummed, "God the great, there is only one God". Those were the only words and they were constantly repeated.We passed by huge mountains that had large caves in them, probably inhabited by the same people that ran that radio station.
Once we got to the hotel, we ate reheated french fries and kebab sandwiches at the hotel restaurant. We went to sleep in the comfortable beds and the cool air condition drying up the sweat above our eyebrows and on the back of our necks.

Early in the morning, we went down to the buffet and ate omelettes that resembled pancakes and crepes that were drenched in the chocolate sauce that is always available on top of ice cream sundaes that you get at elementary school birthday parties. After swims in the beach, we took showers that rid our skin of the braised salt and the clumps of sand in our tangled hair. On our way back, I got to switch cars. My cousin was learning how to drive so we had to be quiet. There was no loud music, plenty of foot room, and air condition. It wasn't horrible.



Just on the way, a lot of nothingness

"the most green I've seen since the revolution!" (sorry)

more nothingness

After Eid-Adha, the skins that were on the sheep after butchering them are strewn in front of a mosque to make into coats or rugs, the smell is coming out of this photo for me

my cousins mid-clap

the stone restaurant/park thing

up in the mountains

Cyrene, the ancient ruins
half of the roadtrip clan

taking a panorama of my sister taking a panorama

the view from a little hill

that little house up there is supposedly where Gadaffi's wife used to live
the view of the beach

you see beach?

I like my tissues like I like my women, virginal and full of pulp (sorry again)


Al Qaeda flag 





view from the hotel balcony