Last year I trekked into the Moroccan Sahara desert on a very trusty camel named Aszu. In the evening, my guide, Jusef, a sixth grade educated Berber nomad, surprisingly fluent in six languages, fixed me a tantalizing chicken tangine. All that it lacked was a glass of wine, unfortunately verboten for Muslims just days before Ramadan. At night we slept under the incredible desert night skies. Never before had I seen so many stars, stretching from one horizon to the other – the stars so bright and numerous, it was difficult to make out the constellations. That was Morocco, a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, smells, and experiences. From Morocco I traveled on through much of Europe, Russia, Mongolia, China, and finally concluding my trip in Japan. This year's trip will take me to Romania, Ukraine, Georgia, Central Asia, India, Nepal, Southwest China, and Indochina. At times I hope to report back on my experiences and observations, perhaps posting a few pictures and videos that may be of interest. I've posted below a few pictures and videos from some past trips. For my blog on my travels through East Europe check out my blog at http://tallinntovarna.blogspot.com.

I’ve been asking myself lately, is there a theme to all this? Maybe not, but one thing I can say that piques my interest, is the dangerous nexus between religion and politics that engulfs the world today. In Morocco, where the King is both the head of Mosque and State, a Muslim, during Ramadan, can end up in jail for doing nothing more than drinking a glass of water under the scorching daytime heat – his crime, the thirsty Muslim broke the fast. Imams in Morocco claim that such an abhorrent act defies the teachings of God, infringes on the religious liberties of practicing Muslims, and is deserving of serious sanction. Of course, such a violation of an individual’s personal freedom could never happen in America. Or could it? As I write this, the U.S. Catholic Bishops are ferociously attacking President Obama’s Affordable Care Act for requiring institutions to provide birth control under their insurance policies. Like the Imams, the Bishops consider it not just an affront, but an existential threat, to their religious liberties. A poor woman, without the means to support a family, let alone a brutally raped woman, should not expect any sympathy from these Catholic institutions, as they, like their Muslim brothers, are scripturally bound to impose their beliefs on others. Does it matter that no one is telling Muslims that they cannot fast or Catholics that they cannot abstain from sex?

Now that I think of it, I’d like to dedicate this blog to Americans United, a terrific nonpartisan educational organization dedicated to preserving the principle of church-state separation as the only way to ensure religious freedom. Before I move on though, I’d like to share with you this political satire piece I wrote a few months ago when Senator Rick Santorum had a chance of being the Republican nominee. It pretty much sums up my take on what a large segment of the American population would like to see should their wildest dreams come true. Finally, I begin this blog with three postings from last year’s trip just to give you an idea of who I am and what you may or may not come to expect as I embark on this year's trip. If you have something nice to say, I'd love to hear from you.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Feodosia, Ukraine


Sometimes you collect information from the most unlikely of sources — this time from a precocious eleven-year old girl vacationing with her mom and relatives at a small resort hotel on the Black Sea. Her father is with the Ukraine embassy in Kenya from where she had just returned after a year there, learning English, and now speaking it almost flawlessly. Here’s what she had to say.

Veronica
Veronica: I prefer to speak English and Russian, but, of course, I speak Ukraine with my grandmother, because that’s all she knows. At home we speak Russian. Like Ukraine it’s our mother tongue although my younger sister doesn’t really speak Ukraine. She speaks Russian and English with an African accent. I want to learn French next. My English teacher was from California and says I speak American English. I know San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. I know President Obama. I think he’s a good president. But I’m glad to be back in Ukraine. It’s my home and I like it here and although it’s near Russia, it’s part of Europe. I don’t think Ukraine will become part of Russia again, because we have our own president. I didn’t like Kenya. It’s a very poor country with people sleeping in the streets. There are a lot of monkeys, lizards, and insects there. It’s dangerous too. If you roll down your car window, the poor people will steal the necklace off your neck. I don’t like Mr. Mwai Kibaki, the president of Kenya. He’s a bad president because he keeps the people poor. I don’t care for the dark people there, or the Catholics, and I don’t like the Muslim women with their masks — you can only see their eyes. The Ukraine consulate in Kenya is small — the American consulate huge. When I grow up, I don’t want to work in the embassy. I want to be a translator and a designer. I want to design dresses. When I’m your age we’ll have electronic closets so all you need to do, for example, is type in “party” and the closet will return the right dress. Later, Veronica became the resident translator as I was invited to have dinner and drinks with the owner of the hotel and some other guests, all Russians, none of whom spoke English. 
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