Rachel K. Arabic Culture

I slept last night! In fact, I slept for about fifteen hours and woke up around 1 in the afternoon. Oops!

Soon after, Zaydeh and I set out for the Seattle Center to see the Arab Culture Festival. We hopped on the Mighty Monorail from Westlake Center and got off at its only stop, Seattle Center.

It was another hot, sunny day today and people were pretty hot and sweaty at the festival. A few kids and some teenagers jumped around in the big, outdoor fountain facing the Space Needle. There were three stages at the festival, two indoors and one outside. We saw bits of belly dancing, 'hip hop' freestyling, and one blonde woman who did a seductive sort of dance with a lit candelabra on her head. Odd.

Still, we were doused in culture and it felt very good after being suffocated in "Japanese Culture" and other mayonnaise-soaked things for two years straight. There were some protesters, claiming that being at an Arab Festival would besmirch our names on Judgment Day. Such protesting evokes the name of Jesus Christ, who similarly used to preach the word of God while crashing someone else's party. Oh wait, he didn't. That was just those three jerk-hats.

Bigotry aside, we visited a Starbucks and sipped on some iced drinks and talked about what buses I should take to get to the apartment in winter when the sun sets at 4pm. The consensus is that Alaskan way is a great place to be, but it's better to be indoors after dark. The piers attract a lot of 'transients', so it can get a little sketchy. Fortunately there are a great many buses, and one such bus even dips down onto Alaskan Way (just for me!)

We came home with a bag full of pita, hummus and baba ghanoush -- a success in my book.

Zaydeh then told a long story about his 'rabid socialist' parents and their days spent owning a co-op in the Bronx. He even said, "I took the subway, which in those days cost a nickel." No onion on his belt, but maybe he left out some details. The story continued on to describe how he had gotten into genius school against his will by taking an examination with a 104º fever and writing about killing chickens. He misread the prompt, "killing time" as "KILLING-time" and the rest, as they say, is history.