Muhammed and Manuela's blogs

I really like how much Manuela has embraced the photo upload feature. She has a great eye for photography. It's also reassuring to see how Manuela's sense of humor ties into her blog. The first link I found was to Spiegel Online news; more specifically, the link goes to the "Berlin, Poor but Sexy" page. I can picture Manuela giggling like an imp when she found that link, and that cracks me up. I think I will start posting series of pictures, like Manuela, in my blog. My talent for photography is extremely poor, but I relish the challenge.

I chose to poke around Muhammed Idris's blog because he'll by my roomie in Berlin. I figure it's time to dig in and get to know Muhammed better, and you know what they say... "Ya don't know a fellow until you glance through his blog." It struck me how much I like Muhammed's writing style. Where my own is wordy and overly colloquial, Muhammed's writing is clear. He makes his points. I tend to write too informally for non-academic projects--I should apologize, I'm guilty again with this piece.

To wrap this up: I need to put more effort and brainpower into my blog posts. I promise that my next post will be a glittering gem of bloggy writing. Until then, here's something fun:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hllqpstavoc

Project Proposal

I'm pretty set on the first project idea I stated in seminar, but I am not sure if I will be able to track down the right people in Berlin to really get this project in gear. We'll see how this turns out...

What did the Soviet guards and officials who spent (at most) 38 years along the Wall do immediately after it was torn down in 1989?

Altar items:

- unlocked handcuffs

- job application papers

- tour map of West Berlin

- old uniform for sale in a hobby shop or second-hand store

- graffiti/tagging done by East Berliners

I like this topic because it will help me inspect the psyche of "the others." I would love to get the chance to meet and greet men and women who maintained a barrier for almost four decades only to see it crumble. Most interestingly, I want to know their methods for re-establishing a normal life once the Berlin Wall fell. What jobs did they get? Do they ever hang out with West Berlin folks? Is there still an allegiance to the old, Soviet doctrines?

The Barriers of Having and Not-Having

I saw an old, haggard man the other day at the corner of 45th Street and 17th Avenue a few days ago, leaning on the street light. He stood alone, content to bask in the sun while students milled around him. Nobody paid attention to the old fart. His wry smiles and attempts to make conversation were never returned. A pack of girls crossed the street simply to avoid the bum--they didn't even break stride, the decision was tacit and automatic.

Our community here at the UW has a black sheep population: the homeless, non-academics, and who-the-fuck-are-you?'s. Students and faculty, and the neighborhood types associated with the school, established an invisible barrier. As you trace along 45th, the downtrodden pock University Way and 15th Avenue like free-range chickens. They seem to belong there. But to find a homeless man benignly standing on the corner of 17th seems odd. Likewise, if a pack of of homeless men and/or women were to wander onto Greek Row, kids would call UWPD and receive pats on the back for it. Somewhere between 15th Avenue and the UW campus is a line in the sand.

I don't mind the barrier, really. As a young, somewhat-morally-sound man I would argue that the rift between communities is bullshit. People are people, and spoiled 18-22 year olds can't lay claim to a barrier that doesn't exist. But there is another side, the dominant side, that believes the folks living the day-to-day grind should be kept away from campus. As bad as it sounds to express out loud, I am comfortable with the buffer. A student taking a nap on the lawn in the Quad is fine with me; and if there's a group of them hanging out together, that's just gravy. Picture that scene. Inviting, eh?

But now imagine those kids are 54 years old, long-haired and scraggy. The whole scene seems a little off, right? I would like to say that we keep the downtrodden at bay for our well-being, but that's a lame excuse. If anything the barrier is established for our piece of mind. We picture college as a utopia, a structure that shouldn't be muddied by the influence of bums. If prospective students saw three homeless guys reading the paper next to Drumheller Fountain or tossing a football in the median of Greek Row, I have no doubt they'd be turned off. The barrier is preserved (strengthened, even, with the surge of violent crime in the area) because the haves have the means to keep the have-nots censured. It's sad and surreal, but it is what it is. College life and vagabonds just don't mix.

A Quick Epiphany

I just watched Spike Lee's "When the Levees Broke" and, well, God damn. It's a pretty emotionally powerful documentary. I recommend the crap out of it, but that's neither here nor there at the moment. What's crucial for this blog is a little epiphany I had, and it went a little something like this:

After the walls crumble, how long does it take for the societal psyche to heal and stigmas to fade? How long will it take for the horrors of post-Katrina New Orleans to transform into a lattice of grim statistics? Similarly, have Berliners learned to appreciate the history of the wall or is it still a bitter memory?

What interests me most within this inquiry is what, if anything other than time, facilitates the healing process? Americans swathed Lousianans and other Gulf Coasters with support after it was evident the government had their priorities mixed. The NBA put the 2008 All-Star game in New Orleans, which kicked off a campaign to reunite New Orleans with the economic and cultural fabric of America. Did the USSR send Berliners a fruit basket? Better yet, would it have helped?

I might bring over a little treat for Berliners when we fly to Germany, apologizing for the Soviets. Hopefully I don't get my ass kicked.

Changing Lanes on The Devil's Highway

I'm not a religious man, but I thanked sweet, gentle Jesus for a privileged life after reading the first two parts of The Devil's Highway.  Stories like this always touch me.  Not in the sense that I can commiserate from my own experiences, but in that I am routinely reminded of my fortunate lot and therein humbled.  I am (and we are, I suppose) so damn lucky; our misery pales.

I liked the first part of The Devil's Highway more than the narrative of the latter chapters. It might be that the narrative gets too personal--it digs and pries into my conscience. Urrea's effect is commendable from a creative, story-building standpoint, but I would prefer not to feel worse about the world as I read further into a book. It's a slow crawl to heartache.

A recurring thought pesters me while I read The Devil's Highway: how unbearably awful must conditions be south of our border for such an outrageously high number of migrant Latinos to attempt such a dangerous excursion? I am not well enough educated on U.S.-Mexican diplomatic history to comment on why America is the pinnacle of 1st world success while Mexicans risk life and limb to flee, but the reason must be glaring. Right?

As Jason De Leon said, the only juxtaposition of 1st world and 3rd world on Earth is on our southern border. Not coincidentally, illegal immigration has become a pretty serious (yet still taboo) national concern. I know the U.S. has given Mexico billions of dollars over the past decades to deter the flow of immigrants, and I recognize that the problem is far more complex than economic stimulating gifts. But this seems to me like a problem that should have a simple solution. Who are we paying to figure this stuff out?

(It just donned on me that I'm starting to argue like Rush Limbaugh. My sincerest apologies, really.) 

Borders, Berlin, and Building Bridges