I promise not to write blogs about our Communities Connecting Heritage cultural exchange project forever. But, I had one last one to share here. And, the only other thing that has been happening to me lately involves my mother and assisted living… which I’m not ready to write about yet at all.
During our three-week cultural exchange hosting five Bengali friends here in DC, we made many personal cultural connections. On the afternoon of July 11, I took Mamoni Chitrakar, a traditional patachitra scroll painter, to the Smithsonian American Art Museum and Portrait Gallery, wanting to share their exhibitions of American folk art with her, as well as the portraits of the presidents.
Before viewing a dizzying array of art, including the works crammed into close quarters at the Luce Center to maximize our time, we fortified ourselves at the cafe in the magnificent Kogod Courtyard between the two museums. We shared a sandwich (relatively easy to cut in half with a plastic knife) and a rock-hard Red Delicious apple. Anyone who has ever tried to cut one of those beauties with a plastic knife knows the drill.
Our attempts at halving this large fruit specimen were at first frustrating, but then we both began to giggle. Since our mutual knowledge of each other’s language is minimal (she is doing much better at English than I am doing at Bengali, though) we didn’t have words, we only had facial expressions and our laughter at our futile attempts, the butchery that ensued, and the juice all over the table before we were successful. It was all that we needed.
Mamoni is back home now, but I think of her every day, and my fondest memory was her laughter and her smile. I admire her bravery in leaving her family and coming to a strange country for three whole weeks, her eagerness to share her culture, and her willingness to try anything – even cutting an apple with a plastic knife.
I was thinking of writing a poem about the experience – still might – but for now, I leave you with this thought. Share an experience with someone from a culture other than yours. Whether its a chat on the train, some other chance encounter like a taxi ride, or an actual planned cultural exchange. Don’t worry about language, just have fun with it. Giggling is not required but helps. You won’t regret it, though it might be a bit uncomfortable or messy. Just do it. Like the bodily nourishment of that shared apple, sharing culture feeds the soul.
The Dynamic Gingerbread Trio – Katie, Khamo and I – just finished our goopy, inedible creation, which we’ve been meaning to make for about a week now, or at least in time for Russian (Orthodox) Christmas (January 7). Inedible because it is a kit that I purchased for $1.50 at after Christmas sales about five years ago. The “ready to use” frosting was so hard that we had to revive it with hot water to make it usable, and it smelled nasty.
We were also late, but not that late, with our tree, which has become a new holiday tradition at our house. We spend Christmas (the December 25th version) with my mom, sister and brother in law in Hilton Head, SC. It is usually about 75 and not feeling at all like Christmas, the only “white” part being the beach sand. When we return to Arlington on the 26th, we start the ritual of finding a Christmas tree – on the street.
The first thing upon arriving is to find your way to the top – a challenging climb up steep streets and steps to the highest point, Mount St. Clair. The elevation is a mere 574 feet, but the view is spectacular and lays Sete’s waterways out for you so that they make sense. To the right, the Mediterranean. To the left, Etang de Thau, a sort of large lake or lagoon. And, in the middle, bisecting the town, a series of canals connecting the two. Water, water, everywhere.
That said, the local seafood is worth it all no matter which cafe you end up at, and the menus are all very similar. The most famous local dish is a sort of octopus pie which is called 
We started our adventure by parking near the train station, which is close to the Canal du Midi – which figures later in the story – and setting out for the walled city. In all the photos you see of the walled city (which is situated as every fortification worth its salt on a high and formidable hill) one would assume that it must loom up from the more modern part, and that you should be able to see it from everywhere you look. Not so.
You can merely stroll around the walls, which offer lovely views of the hills in the distance, or you can go the historical interpretation route of a visit to the 
We finally, and reluctantly, left the walled city and headed back to the canal for another history lesson wrapped in a relaxed boat ride. The 
As you glide down the plane tree lined canal a guide gives you excellent background information, you go through a lock to find out how those work, and you have a lovely rest stop at an old inn. A whole different view from the rugged walled city, which you could not see from the part of the canal we toured. It seemed something we had dreamed instead of actually having visited just hours before.
The concoction was featured on Sunday, when we attended the 
Till years later, when I discovered the authentic Virginia version. Because, though Georgians also claim the stew was first created there, in my opinion the Virginia version reigns supreme.