This AP news story is really unbelievable, in the horrific sense. And so utterly believable at the same time. The rapidly spreading world religion of consumption has finally given way to human sacrifice. All in the name of $69 cameras.
I advocate a lifestyle of relative simplicity, which makes me a little suspect to comment on the frenzy that has traditionally accompanied "Black Friday." And I've never been one to stand in line for hours to get into a store, no matter how great the "deals." But there is something drastically wrong with the human race when we're more interested in cheap Christmas presents than the welfare of the people next to us. Or those we're crushing on our way down the aisles.
But this is beyond tragic. On one hand, the store hold a significant part of the blame for not adequately preparing for the enormous crowd of people gathered outside the doors. On the other, the crowd's collective guilt. Even though the article mentions it as a possibility, there's no real way to criminally charge those at the front of the line. I've been in pushing crowds before and there is no option but to allow yourself to be carried forward. There's no stopping, no turning around unless you desire a sudden end. And surely no one stood in line all night thinking, "Tomorrow morning I'm going to trampled a minimum-wage worker on my way to the electronics department." They just got caught up in something tragic and unstoppable. So maybe all those shoppers, easily identified by their credit and debit card receipts (who pays with cash these days?) could ALL be sentenced to community service so they can learn true gift-giving. Send them to the soup kitchens, the homeless shelters, the public housing projects. Require them to give an equal amount to the poor as they spent at that Walmart on the 28th of November. Now THAT would be a beautiful thing...
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Cashew Cheese Redefined
By now, you probably have figured out that I like playing with my food. And on nights when I can't go out because of bullets and grenades flying helter-skelter, I indulge in food blog surfing. My fascination with food is partly creative; I like to see what kind of tasty things I can "wrestle" up in my often poorly stocked kitchen. And making vegetarian or even vegan foods stretches my creativity to the max.
Chocolate and Zucchini , coincidentally, had an interesting recipe up for cashew cheese. And I had already opened the bag of cashews earlier in the evening, so I didn't feel too guilty about experimenting. Though it was a little difficult to make without a real food processor (I only have a blender), I made do with a little smashing via the wooden banger thing Brazilian cooks use to crush garlic. And while what I made bore no relation to either real cheese or what was described on that site, I roundly devoured all but a half-teaspoon of the mixture on crackers while checking my email. Not half bad.
Because this reminds me more of a salad than a spread, I'm calling it Mock Tuna Salad. Except in no way is it attempting to mock tuna salad. You don't need breath mints after, for starters.
Jenna's Mock Tuna Salad
cashews, roasted and salted
chopped onion
chopped celery (can use leaves too)
very finely shredded carrots
salt, dried garlic, dill and pepper to taste
water
mayonnaise
I used about 1/3 cup of cashews and 2 T of water. But it is a very experimental recipe, so do whatever feels good. Toss all ingredients but carrots and mayonnaise into a blender (or food processor or use a mortar and pestle). When the texture is slightly creamy but still has very small chunks, almost like a chunky peanut butter, add mayonnaise and carrots, adjust spices as needed and spread on crackers or bread.
Chocolate and Zucchini , coincidentally, had an interesting recipe up for cashew cheese. And I had already opened the bag of cashews earlier in the evening, so I didn't feel too guilty about experimenting. Though it was a little difficult to make without a real food processor (I only have a blender), I made do with a little smashing via the wooden banger thing Brazilian cooks use to crush garlic. And while what I made bore no relation to either real cheese or what was described on that site, I roundly devoured all but a half-teaspoon of the mixture on crackers while checking my email. Not half bad.
Because this reminds me more of a salad than a spread, I'm calling it Mock Tuna Salad. Except in no way is it attempting to mock tuna salad. You don't need breath mints after, for starters.
Jenna's Mock Tuna Salad
cashews, roasted and salted
chopped onion
chopped celery (can use leaves too)
very finely shredded carrots
salt, dried garlic, dill and pepper to taste
water
mayonnaise
I used about 1/3 cup of cashews and 2 T of water. But it is a very experimental recipe, so do whatever feels good. Toss all ingredients but carrots and mayonnaise into a blender (or food processor or use a mortar and pestle). When the texture is slightly creamy but still has very small chunks, almost like a chunky peanut butter, add mayonnaise and carrots, adjust spices as needed and spread on crackers or bread.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Blackout
I just turned out most of the lights. Just in case. My downstairs neighbor called me a few minutes ago:
"Are you at home? I didn't hear any noises coming from upstairs..."
It's nice to know they're looking out for me.
You wouldn't believe the sounds we're hearing right now.
"Are you at home? I didn't hear any noises coming from upstairs..."
It's nice to know they're looking out for me.
You wouldn't believe the sounds we're hearing right now.
And I was getting all proud to say that I DIDN'T live in the Gaza Strip anymore...
Three hours of firefights are enough to turn even the most solid person into a nervous eater. I've gone through half of my block of precious cheddar cheese (bought just today and much more expensive now with the exchange rate changes) and am slowly eating through a bag of Christmas cashews and my Peruvian marshmallows. I don't have a television and the power is off in Manguinhos, so there's no real connection to the outside world, though I'm going to check the Globo website right now to see what the status is...but I was a music major in college. I hear the different tones of those explosions and those aren't just handguns, semi-automatics and machine guns that are going off out there. Grenades, the police tank's gun, possibly shoulder-propelled rockets? Those are some BIG sounds. And under them all, this absurd, cloying music. For at least as long as the firefight, someone has been playing an instrumental cd of Christmas and children's songs non-stop. Tinkly, cheap, Sunday School classroom xylophone instrumental music. Two hours of The Twelve Days of Christmas. Enough to drive me nearly mad.
As if it wasn't bad enough to hear the sounds of intergalactic warfare happening next to my supermarket. But that is Rio for you. Paradox. Just today, at another supermarket, as I was checking out, an elderly couple chose a cart and waltzed down the aisles to do a bit of early afternoon shopping. In their BATH ROBES. With fanny packs over their sashes. I guess that's what you do after swimming class. Just do a bit of nearly-nude shopping...
Oh, how I am missing the peace and quiet of that island! What a way to be welcomed back to Rio.
As if it wasn't bad enough to hear the sounds of intergalactic warfare happening next to my supermarket. But that is Rio for you. Paradox. Just today, at another supermarket, as I was checking out, an elderly couple chose a cart and waltzed down the aisles to do a bit of early afternoon shopping. In their BATH ROBES. With fanny packs over their sashes. I guess that's what you do after swimming class. Just do a bit of nearly-nude shopping...
Oh, how I am missing the peace and quiet of that island! What a way to be welcomed back to Rio.
Ilha Grande Pictures
Post-Peru retreat, I had five days of vacation on Ilha Grande with a friend...at the little beach town of Praia Vermelha:
We spent a lot of time hanging out on rocks and jumping into the water. You know, just generally getting in touch with our inner tomboys...and getting the scrapes and bruises to prove it!
There was plenty of hiking on slippery dirt paths that wound through the jungle and up the steep slopes, giving spectacular views of the ocean and the town. We passed a lot of homes on the path; I can't imagine living there and lugging groceries or furniture up those paths. (Though from what we could tell, most of the groceries were grown on the island. You have to love rainforests for their optimum food supply: mangoes, bananas, papayas, guavas, beans, manioc root, corn, and so much more...)
On our last day, we hiked to the "Grotto" which was billed as something really spectacular by all the locals. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.
This is my face after I realize that the passage is only going to get smaller. And that I'm not sure I want to be going down into a dark hole barefoot and in a bikini top. With a borrowed flashlight. And no information other than: "You'll feel like you're going to fall off into infinity but you won't. Keep going. It's worth it!"
It was.
Proof:
We spent a lot of time hanging out on rocks and jumping into the water. You know, just generally getting in touch with our inner tomboys...and getting the scrapes and bruises to prove it!
There was plenty of hiking on slippery dirt paths that wound through the jungle and up the steep slopes, giving spectacular views of the ocean and the town. We passed a lot of homes on the path; I can't imagine living there and lugging groceries or furniture up those paths. (Though from what we could tell, most of the groceries were grown on the island. You have to love rainforests for their optimum food supply: mangoes, bananas, papayas, guavas, beans, manioc root, corn, and so much more...)
On our last day, we hiked to the "Grotto" which was billed as something really spectacular by all the locals. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.
This is my face after I realize that the passage is only going to get smaller. And that I'm not sure I want to be going down into a dark hole barefoot and in a bikini top. With a borrowed flashlight. And no information other than: "You'll feel like you're going to fall off into infinity but you won't. Keep going. It's worth it!"
It was.
Proof:
Monday, November 17, 2008
Peru: Part One
It is always easier to write about the fun and funny things that occur on trips, so let's start with that...
1. Ten women in a taxi. This is the post-taxi picture in which I am absent, being the photographer:
I really don't recommend you try this at home. For one thing, since even the Peruvian police force apparently disapprove (can you believe our return taxi was less than enthusiastic about taking us?), I'm sure it won't fly in the States...also, this 20 minute taxi ride cost about 4 dollars. Total. Gringo tax included. I can't remember when I've ever laughed that hard...and it was absolutely excellent to see the uniqueness of our group: one American, two Brazilians, two Peruvians, three Bolivians in casual dress and one Bolivian in "cholita" costume. (Confused? See #4)
2. The World's Greatest Mud City. Home of the ancient Moche civilization. Go ahead, Wikipedia it. I had to, because our poor guide, an older woman with a heavy French accent, was having a really hard time giving a intelligible tour. One moment, we had her speaking Spanish, the next English, and someone was always translating into Portuguese...
We visited the Huaco de la Luna y Sol, two temples with a city that sat between them and a sacred mountain. Sacred in this case means human sacrifices. More on this in another post.
Only one of the temples is open to the public, and from watching one of the workers meticulously clean the paintings with cotton balls and air puffs, I imagine it is going to be a long while before the other is open. It's quite impressive.
This "Peruvian dog" is hipoallergenic. Obviously. According to our guide, they were used as hot water bottles by the ancient Peruvians, because the poor animal's body temperature is rumored to hover around 104 degrees F. (I touched this one and it really was warm...felt like what I imagine an elephant's skin must be like.) The Peruvian government offered one to President-Elect Obama, because of his daughter's allergic reactions to dogs. Somehow, I think he's going to decline. Having a naked, mohawked dog probably won't help with that "anti-christ" image within certain
groups at all...
3. Inca Kola
The only country in the world where Coca-Cola didn't dominate (and couldn't) dominate the market? Peru. The top soft drink is called Inca Kola, a viciously yellow drink that tastes like frothy pink bubblegum. In a sad bow to globalization, the brand was bought out by the Coke company. I have a small bottle sitting on my shelf, to be opened during some Peruvian-themed party night so everyone can have a sip...
4. Cholitas
V-, one of the Bolivian staff, really stood out in her cholita fashion. The long, long braids swinging down her back, the ornate skirts, the tiny shoes, a big grin topped off with glittering gold-capped teeth. I couldn't get enough of V-'s excellent combos. She loved my wig. So we had a little runway show one night:
You would not BELIEVE how heavy this skirt is.
1. Ten women in a taxi. This is the post-taxi picture in which I am absent, being the photographer:
I really don't recommend you try this at home. For one thing, since even the Peruvian police force apparently disapprove (can you believe our return taxi was less than enthusiastic about taking us?), I'm sure it won't fly in the States...also, this 20 minute taxi ride cost about 4 dollars. Total. Gringo tax included. I can't remember when I've ever laughed that hard...and it was absolutely excellent to see the uniqueness of our group: one American, two Brazilians, two Peruvians, three Bolivians in casual dress and one Bolivian in "cholita" costume. (Confused? See #4)
2. The World's Greatest Mud City. Home of the ancient Moche civilization. Go ahead, Wikipedia it. I had to, because our poor guide, an older woman with a heavy French accent, was having a really hard time giving a intelligible tour. One moment, we had her speaking Spanish, the next English, and someone was always translating into Portuguese...
We visited the Huaco de la Luna y Sol, two temples with a city that sat between them and a sacred mountain. Sacred in this case means human sacrifices. More on this in another post.
Only one of the temples is open to the public, and from watching one of the workers meticulously clean the paintings with cotton balls and air puffs, I imagine it is going to be a long while before the other is open. It's quite impressive.
This "Peruvian dog" is hipoallergenic. Obviously. According to our guide, they were used as hot water bottles by the ancient Peruvians, because the poor animal's body temperature is rumored to hover around 104 degrees F. (I touched this one and it really was warm...felt like what I imagine an elephant's skin must be like.) The Peruvian government offered one to President-Elect Obama, because of his daughter's allergic reactions to dogs. Somehow, I think he's going to decline. Having a naked, mohawked dog probably won't help with that "anti-christ" image within certain
groups at all...
3. Inca Kola
The only country in the world where Coca-Cola didn't dominate (and couldn't) dominate the market? Peru. The top soft drink is called Inca Kola, a viciously yellow drink that tastes like frothy pink bubblegum. In a sad bow to globalization, the brand was bought out by the Coke company. I have a small bottle sitting on my shelf, to be opened during some Peruvian-themed party night so everyone can have a sip...
4. Cholitas
V-, one of the Bolivian staff, really stood out in her cholita fashion. The long, long braids swinging down her back, the ornate skirts, the tiny shoes, a big grin topped off with glittering gold-capped teeth. I couldn't get enough of V-'s excellent combos. She loved my wig. So we had a little runway show one night:
You would not BELIEVE how heavy this skirt is.
Obstinate Children-A Reflection
“In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” Isaiah 30:15 b
I’m reading Isaiah 30, the chapter about God’s obstinate children. I love that Israel (and my extension, me and you) are called obstinate children. Hey! You! Punk adolescents who think you know everything about everything! You’re gravely mistaken. Stop pushing and pulling at your boundaries, stop trying to do things your own way! Just stop. Rest. Wait. Your work isn’t working; your work is slowing down enough that you can actually hear My voice.
That’s exactly what I needed to hear today.
And so I lectio'd each of the important words...
• Repent. Turn away from the things that do not bring you life, from attitudes, behaviors, actions, thoughts that drag you farther and farther from a close relationship with God, things that isolate and alienate you from your true self and from others. Repent. Don’t merely apologize, don’t beat yourself up over mistakes and sins. Repent. Start walking in the other direction and don’t look over your shoulder with longing. Repent. Accept healing, be more alive, more human, more real.
• Rest. Stop rushing. Calm the turbulent waters of your thought life, the racing pulse of the chronic worrier. Take time to breathe, to hear the sounds of the birds through the incessant noise of the city. Smell the jasmine under the car exhaust and cigarette smoke. Rest. Live in the present, not a prisoner to the past nor rushing so quickly into the future that today becomes a blur. Rest. Without guilt, without fear, without laziness. Just be. Remember who is truly in control of every situation, be comforted, and relax.
• Salvation. Not so much a once-for-all-eternal-heavenly salvation; these words speak to me of an ongoing salvation that’s a daily occurrence. Think of all that you need saving from today: from an overflowing to-do list, a stack of should’s as high as the ceilings in this old house, a nagging sense that something is being overlooked, the weight of imperfection, the rusty shackles of sin, that dog whose incessant barking is driving you to the brink of insanity...Salvation. Rescuing. Salve, healing balm, curative. Accept that which restores health, gives you new life, that which leads to a place of safety and security. Salvation.
• Quietness. Impossible in this city. Squealing brakes, shouting children, barking dogs. The vendors with their carts and horns, the loudspeakers blasting sound clips and propaganda, the cellphone and doorbell unsilent. Is quietness outside myself? Or is it an inner quietness, a silence within me that is unshakeable in the midst of so much tumult? Quietness like this is found only through great struggle. Have you ever sat quiet to meditate? After twenty seconds, I feel as though my brain will rupture from the stress of subduing the random thoughts that play some kind of chaotic full-body contact sport between my ears. Every synapse is exhausted from the effort of quietness. And then, for a few seconds, all pauses. A calmness descends…quickly kicked away by the barrage of thoughts, frustrations, prickly heat rash and that dead cockroach in the corner. Yet even though the experience of that silent peace, that quietness, is fleeting, it is valuable beyond words.
• Trust. Strength. The things I struggle most with. Trust. Depending on another’s strength and not my own. Can’t we put this topic away for another time? Isn’t it the sort of thing to be pushed into the background until I’m more prepared to deal with it? Get the rest of the junk in my life sorted out before I have to deal with trust? With facing the limitations of my own strength, which is pitifully weak? The word resonates within me. Trust. Don’t procrastinate on this one. Don’t put it off, brush it aside. You need this. Just trust. Because all those petty excuses for not trusting? The whining of an obstinate child. I’ve been obstinate most of my life; that I was prepared to accept as part of the package that is Jenna. But a child? God help me! That feels like spiritual regression...but Jesus tells us to be like little children. Maybe the problem is the obstinacy.
Darn. This will be harder to deal with than I thought.
Time to make lunch. Ruminate. Sit quietly and listen. Squelch some of that impulse towards obstinacy...
I’m reading Isaiah 30, the chapter about God’s obstinate children. I love that Israel (and my extension, me and you) are called obstinate children. Hey! You! Punk adolescents who think you know everything about everything! You’re gravely mistaken. Stop pushing and pulling at your boundaries, stop trying to do things your own way! Just stop. Rest. Wait. Your work isn’t working; your work is slowing down enough that you can actually hear My voice.
That’s exactly what I needed to hear today.
And so I lectio'd each of the important words...
• Repent. Turn away from the things that do not bring you life, from attitudes, behaviors, actions, thoughts that drag you farther and farther from a close relationship with God, things that isolate and alienate you from your true self and from others. Repent. Don’t merely apologize, don’t beat yourself up over mistakes and sins. Repent. Start walking in the other direction and don’t look over your shoulder with longing. Repent. Accept healing, be more alive, more human, more real.
• Rest. Stop rushing. Calm the turbulent waters of your thought life, the racing pulse of the chronic worrier. Take time to breathe, to hear the sounds of the birds through the incessant noise of the city. Smell the jasmine under the car exhaust and cigarette smoke. Rest. Live in the present, not a prisoner to the past nor rushing so quickly into the future that today becomes a blur. Rest. Without guilt, without fear, without laziness. Just be. Remember who is truly in control of every situation, be comforted, and relax.
• Salvation. Not so much a once-for-all-eternal-heavenly salvation; these words speak to me of an ongoing salvation that’s a daily occurrence. Think of all that you need saving from today: from an overflowing to-do list, a stack of should’s as high as the ceilings in this old house, a nagging sense that something is being overlooked, the weight of imperfection, the rusty shackles of sin, that dog whose incessant barking is driving you to the brink of insanity...Salvation. Rescuing. Salve, healing balm, curative. Accept that which restores health, gives you new life, that which leads to a place of safety and security. Salvation.
• Quietness. Impossible in this city. Squealing brakes, shouting children, barking dogs. The vendors with their carts and horns, the loudspeakers blasting sound clips and propaganda, the cellphone and doorbell unsilent. Is quietness outside myself? Or is it an inner quietness, a silence within me that is unshakeable in the midst of so much tumult? Quietness like this is found only through great struggle. Have you ever sat quiet to meditate? After twenty seconds, I feel as though my brain will rupture from the stress of subduing the random thoughts that play some kind of chaotic full-body contact sport between my ears. Every synapse is exhausted from the effort of quietness. And then, for a few seconds, all pauses. A calmness descends…quickly kicked away by the barrage of thoughts, frustrations, prickly heat rash and that dead cockroach in the corner. Yet even though the experience of that silent peace, that quietness, is fleeting, it is valuable beyond words.
• Trust. Strength. The things I struggle most with. Trust. Depending on another’s strength and not my own. Can’t we put this topic away for another time? Isn’t it the sort of thing to be pushed into the background until I’m more prepared to deal with it? Get the rest of the junk in my life sorted out before I have to deal with trust? With facing the limitations of my own strength, which is pitifully weak? The word resonates within me. Trust. Don’t procrastinate on this one. Don’t put it off, brush it aside. You need this. Just trust. Because all those petty excuses for not trusting? The whining of an obstinate child. I’ve been obstinate most of my life; that I was prepared to accept as part of the package that is Jenna. But a child? God help me! That feels like spiritual regression...but Jesus tells us to be like little children. Maybe the problem is the obstinacy.
Darn. This will be harder to deal with than I thought.
Time to make lunch. Ruminate. Sit quietly and listen. Squelch some of that impulse towards obstinacy...
Monday, November 03, 2008
Aji
This long absence from the blog can be summed up in one word: Peru. Between the planning for the trip and the actual retreat/field visit, I've had little time to even think about writing on the blog. Not to mention the sticky internet cafe keyboards...
So this is really just a teaser, because I'm not home yet and I want to put photos up with the posts. But just to whet your appetites, the next few blog posts will include stories about:
-ancient Moche civilization ruins and the world's largest mud city
-descriptions of the Peruvian foods that are leaving me 5 pounds heavier after just 13 days in this country
-how to fit 10 women in a taxi
-reflections on culture and ministry
-wild dancing children
-Inca Kola
-hamburger nights
-what it is like to worship God in Aymara, Spanish, Portuguese and English
-the awe-inspiring, austere beauty of the desert...
But for now, I'm kind of tired. Too many potatoes, too much aji (Peruvian peppers) and probably too much coffee have done their evil work on my joints. Time to go to bed.
So this is really just a teaser, because I'm not home yet and I want to put photos up with the posts. But just to whet your appetites, the next few blog posts will include stories about:
-ancient Moche civilization ruins and the world's largest mud city
-descriptions of the Peruvian foods that are leaving me 5 pounds heavier after just 13 days in this country
-how to fit 10 women in a taxi
-reflections on culture and ministry
-wild dancing children
-Inca Kola
-hamburger nights
-what it is like to worship God in Aymara, Spanish, Portuguese and English
-the awe-inspiring, austere beauty of the desert...
But for now, I'm kind of tired. Too many potatoes, too much aji (Peruvian peppers) and probably too much coffee have done their evil work on my joints. Time to go to bed.
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