If you're reading this...

you're very lucky. Just like I am for being able to write it.
In the spirit of American Thanksgiving (I know: I'm fiercely, proudly Canadian, but I have a lot of American friends, so I was very aware of their recent holiday) and of living with gratitude in general, I thought I'd share a recent thought. First, to give you the background:
Last week, I had a little "procedure" done to remove a chelazion (basically a cyst from a non-draining oil-gland) off my eyelid. The whole procedure took less than 10 minutes and was done right at the clinic I went to. Very very simple. All I had to do was ice it for the next two days, and put in ointment to help it heal.
So, there I was after the surgery, lying on my couch, trying to decide what to do with my sudden free time. I thought about watching tv, but it was super hard to do with an ice pack over one eye. Same with surfing the internet or reading a book. Even without the ice pack, my eye tired very easily and didn't want to do a lot of work. In the end, I napped and listened to the radio, but it got me thinking. I can see. and the fact that I can see gives me access to so many things I have come to rely on as basic in my life, things I didn't know what to do without for 48 hours. Take it one step further. Not only could I see, I had access to a computer and internet.
I'm not sure what percentage of the world's population has internet at home, but it can't be the majority of us - not even close. Some of us don't even have running water.
So yes, if you're reading this, you likely have running water, and access to medicine, and you can see. I have all three of these things and many many others that I take for granted. And for all of this, I am grateful.
Happy thanksgiving - or as my friend Jenny calls it - Happy Gratitude Day.

A modest request for the coffee shops

You know I'm a lover of sitting in your wonderful, relaxing atmospheres. You know there is little I enjoy more than kicking back with a latte and a book and just losing myself in the setting.
Of course, I can't drink milk, lactose free or otherwise, because of my allergies. and my solution has always been soy. Well, recently I've read some frightening things about soy (including the fact that 90% of the soy generated for North American consumption is genetically modified - if you haven't yet watched the future of food, you should!). As a result, I've switched to almond milk and stopped buying soy products. Now, this works at home, but in coffee shops, the only non-dairy alternative is soy. Timothy's, Second Cup, Starbucks, anyone who can make you a latte without milk can only make it with soy milk. Now, I'm not drinking these every week or anything, but it would be really really nice if someone started offering almond milk based drinks, or any nut milk for that matter.
So, I'm asking you, please oh coffee shop people, give me something I can drink while I'm reading a book other than herbal tea. Give me a latte without the bad stuff. Please?

Awesomest Eid Ever

We are on day 3 of Eid Al-Adha, but really wrapping it up because tomorrow's a monday and we'll be back at work. Normally, we end up celebraiting Eid for a day because it's too hard to take more time off, or we're travelling to and from Ottawa or TO, but this Eid, this Eid was different. My parents were coming to Montreal, M's parents and brother were also coming, and my younger sister's in-laws were also in town. Basically, we celebrated in true family style, as-in a bunch of people around an extended table, elbows pressed together, laughter and conversation and ladels being passed from person to person to person. The food was delicious and the company even more so.
It was such a success that M and I (and my younger sister and her hubby) are all insisting that there must be one communal Montreal-style Eid each year.
Repeat, for sure!

4 Umbrellas Later

I don't think I've mentioned here yet that I've started working out of the Montreal office more and more. I still go to Ottawa for work, but not as often, and since the Montreal office is so wonderfully close to our place, I actually walk to and from work now when I'm here.
Now, I love everything about this new arrangement except for one little detail:
I am notorious for forgetting my umbrella at home. No, scratch that. I bring my umbrella, I just bring it on the days it's not raining. I can carry it for a week to and from work and that week the clouds will not shed a drop. Then I'll forget it and before I head home that afternoon, I'll look out the window and it'll be pouring away. So, I'll go into the Pharmaprix in the plaza downstairs and buy an umbrella - and use it that day before the cycle begins again.
I don't dare get up and count the number of umbrellas M and I have at home, but my guess is that the number is around 7 or 8- and we're two (2!) people. And I'm pretty sure 4 of those were purchased in the last month. By me.
Case in point: yesterday I checked the weather - no rain expected on Monday, but rain expected today. No worries, I would take my brolly today.
And then today happened, and while I was packing my lunch, I remembered that I need the umbrella, but by the time I was done, I'd totally forgotten. and then it wasn't raining in the morning, so I didn't notice when I left the building.
Then, this afternoon as I was heading back from work, I left the office and it was dripping. I walked 100 feet, turned around and went back inside to the Pharmaprix to buy yet ANOTHER umbrella. And then I walked the rest of the way to my errand, did my errand, and walked home without needing it at all. The moment I had the umbrella, the rain stopped. Go figure.

A little dose of inspiration and beauty

The words in this are perfect, so I won't add my own:

Remember the Dove Commercial? A Leafs Spoof

I'm a huge hockey fan, and my team is the Montreal Canadiens, who's archrivals are the Toronto Maple Leafs.
Way back when, I posted the Dove Beauty Commercial below. Well, today I saw the parody version with a Leafs fan, instead of a model, at the centre of the clip.
Check them both out. Enjoy the hilarity.

Dove Commercial:



Leafs Parody:

Are you Muslim?

I was coming up in the elevator today on my way home, and there was a pizza delivery man there too. He looked at me a bit hesitantly and then asked me, "are you Muslim?"
I smiled and nodded. He said, "Assalaamu alaikum" (the Muslim greeting meaning "peace be upon you"), and I replied "wa alaikum assalaam" ("and peace be with you").
That was it. Simple exchange. Nothing fancy, but it made me wonder.
I wear a hijab, and I'm of Arab descent, so I assume, especially because of my hijab, that I'm a very obvious Muslim. And yet this isn't the first time I've been asked if I'm Muslim by a male Muslim before he says salaam.
With women it's very different. If we spot a fellow hijabi, we smile and say salaam right away. We don't ask. We don't need to. Why do they?
I'm not bothered, just curious. It seems unnecessary, no?

Watch This!

So funny. Apparently there's a comedy show in Australia called "Salam Cafe" (salam means peace in Arabic and is a big part of 'Muslim speak') and they did this hilarious sketch about working with Muslims. I got a real kick out of it. It's good to make fun of ourselves once in a while.
Enjoy!

Food Rules to Live By

I've been paying a lot more attention to my food during the last two months, trying to figure out the healthiest way to be eating, thinking of my body as a machine and the food I consume as the fuel. A friend who shares my nutrition zeal sent me this neat list of food rules compiled by Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemna. While I don't agree with every rule, it's an interesting list and gives a neat perspective. My personal favourites are #s 9, 11, and 20.
Enjoy.
My personal rule, which I haven't quite managed to implement but which I'm working towards, is: Eat foods in inverse proportion to how long they take to be edible. What I mean by this is that vegetables are the fastest and easiest thing to grow and so should make up the largest portion of our diets, followed by fruits, then grains, then meats.
I don't actually do this, not yet. I wish I did. Working on it.

The Time is Upon Us

It's fall, there's a chill in the air, and your new-look Montreal Canadiens are about to start their 2009-2010 season (if this opening ceremony ever ends!)
Will they be better this year? I don't know. I hope so. But I hope so every year. Either way, I'm ready (I have been since 3 weeks before training camp) to become a hockey fanatic again. The season is upon us. Yay!

Revealing Ramadan, Take 2

The same day I posted my previous Revealing Ramadan blog post, I got an email from the good people at Speaking of Faith. I did a brief interview with them today, and read my Ramadan piece. Same for Jen. Not sure if they'll be posting the audio, but the piece is now on the website, here. Enjoy!

Newest Angel on the Block

Exciting news: my baby sister now has a baby of her own! Our newest little angela made her debut yesterday morning bright and early. She's a beautiful, healthy baby and her parents are already doting over her as we speak (unless she's napping; then they're gratefully trying to get some sleep as well ;))
Once again, I find myself in an enviable position to establish myself as "favourite aunt", since I'm the one living nearby (my baby sis literally lives down the street in Montreal) and I'm working hard on building that status, as I did with my two little Dubai Angels when they were still Ottawa Angels and I was still in Ottawa. (to my other two sisters, I kid of course. We can have a three-way tie for favourite aunt :))
A funny story about our newest angel: At some point during my sister's pregnancy, Montreal Angela was dubbed "Baby Banana" (this had something to do with my sister grocery shopping and coming across plantains which we called Baby Bananas, I think). Anyway, even when Baby Banana was well beyond the size of her namesake, we were still calling her that.
Well, last week, my little Dubai Angel ate a banana, looked up at his mom, and told her, Mama, I have a baby banana in my tummy.
To which his mom responded, What about Auntie? Does she still have a baby banana?
His answer: No, I'm the one who has it now.

Looks like he'll be looking out for his little cousin from the get go!

Revealing Ramadan

My dear friend Jen let me know about this fabulous website for NPR's Speaking of Faith program. They're doing a "Ramadan special" where they've asked Muslims to write in with their personal reflections on Islam and/or Ramadan. Some were chosen to air on the radio. Others were chosen to show on the site where you can read them. Jen's is here.
Mine was sent in, but doesn't seem to have made the cut. Since I liked it though, I decided I'd share it with you here.
Don't forget to check out the rest of the stories and reflections on the site. I really enjoyed seeing so many different perspectives.


When I think of Ramadan, I think of many things, but the first is almost always my mother, up before the rest of us an hour and a half before dawn to prepare the food we would sleepily consume in the last half hour before the fast began.
My mother, a doctor with a strong interest in nutrition, was always sure to get as much protein into our systems as possible: there were scrambled and boiled eggs, fava beans slow-cooked the traditional Egyptian way, tuna salad. But there was always something for our teenage taste buds: My mother would wake us up with home-cooked french fries, still sizzling on the plate. Into our bedroom she would sweep, singing “wake up, wake up, your food has come to you” in a jolly voice, and as I rolled over on the top bunk to face her, I would find a handful of hot, salty fries stuffed into my mouth before my eyes were even open. It certainly was an effective tactic.
When we were younger, we would “fast” from breakfast until lunch and then from lunch until dinner, feeling for the first time what it was to have sustained hunger, to not cure it immediately with a stop at the fridge or the cupboard. The pangs in our stomachs would knot first, then twist, and there was something so satisfying about not succumbing, about defeating that part of ourselves that cried out to be served, to be given now now NOW!
Experience is learning, is knowledge, and the value of that knot in the pit of my stomach can never be underestimated. I knew, ever so briefly, what it was to want; knew the slight pain, the slight light-headedness that came with it; but more than anything, knew the gratitude of sunset, of taking that first sip of water, that first sweet bite of a date, sweet and soft and buttery, melting on my tongue. And as I got older, I knew too the gratitude of having that water, that date, having what so few have, and especially what so many everywhere can't reach: a fridge full of food; a house with a roof; a blanket to cover my bed; a loving mother who would wake up in the middle of the night to make sure her daughters were well-fed before the fast began.
My father broke his fast with a glass of hot milk, heated to the point of scalding in the microwave, nearly foaming at the top, and three or five dates to go along. It was my father who taught us the supplication to make when breaking our fast:
“Oh God, for you I have fasted, and from your blessings I have broken my fast, and on you I depend, and in you I believe”. And then each one of us would turn inward and think of what she wanted and pray a private prayer, just between her and God, before that first bite, that first sip. It could be anything: I would pray for a good grade on an upcoming test, for a class trip somewhere fun, to get out of babysitting that Friday at the mosque, for forgiveness for my sins – a rude word, a look of ridicule, the missing of one of the five daily prayers.
After the dates and milk we would pray our sunset prayer before having a proper meal, and there we would stand, my mother, my three sisters and I behind our father, reciting the Quran, choosing, somehow, the verses that would nudge our hearts that particular day, his words poetry, a calling to God.

A post about coffee (which I've been meaning to write for weeks)

You will not believe this... Not if you've read my previous mentions of my coffee addiction, including my complete failures the last two Ramadans to not drink it before starting to fast. Are you ready? Drumroll.............

I QUIT! I, Noha Beshir, professed coffee addict of over 10 years, lover of the Second Cup Paradiso blend, the Timothy's Vanilla Soy Latte, and the regular old Large Timmy's with one milk, have not had a coffee in over three weeks. And, the coffee I consumed three weeks ago was simply due to the fact that I was a counsellor at youth camp, chasing around many lovely, high strung teenage girls on less than 2 hours of sleep for the second day in a row. Before that, I had gone two weeks without coffee as well.
I won't lie: the first 5 days of non-coffee drinking were brutal. Headaches, exhaustion, all that good stuff. But now, I'm smooth sailing. When I'm tired, I try to sleep instead of caffeinating, and I think I'm generally a (slightly) less bubbly person. But yeah: Noha, without coffee. Whoda thunk it, eh?

United Breaks Guitars, but Skype Steals Credit

Have you heard about the whole United Breaks Guitars saga? This poor east coast musician (named Dave Carroll) was flying to memphis, or somewhere else in the states, via United Airlines, and the baggage handlers totally killed his guitar. Someone on the plane witnessed the whole thing from their seats.
He spent odious amounts of time on the phone with United after, trying to get them to pay for the repairs to the guitar, and of course, got nowhere. So he did what any self-respecting east-coaster would do: he told them he would make two revenge songs and post them on YouTube. And he was good to his word.
The Vidoes, of course, went viral. And it was then that United came through with an apology and some cash (which he's donated to a music school), and Taylor guitars, the makers of his broken guitar, gave him a new one.
The Videos are completely hilarious, and because I'm a total dork and I love spreading the joy, I'm posting them here for your enjoyment:





So, all this to say, we're glad that things ended well for Dave Carroll, and though our ordeal is much smaller, we're reminded of him in a current "situation" we have with skype:
A few months ago, M and I put some money on his skype account to call some of our wonderful relatives in Egypt. We spent a pleasant afternoon chatting with family on both sides, and when we were done, felt we'd made a great investment. Fast forward a few months to this week: it's now the beginning of Ramadan, and we want to call our family in Egypt, as well as my sister in Dubai, to wish everyone a blessed month. M tries to get on skype, but it won't accept his password. No sweat, he tries to change the password. And then, the persistent error message. Skype is having issues. Skype has not let him change his password for over a week, and won't accept the password he's putting in.
Ok, let's call them and tell them we're having this problem. What's that, they have no phone number? Ok, but they must have an email form. M fills out the email form, and as he's about to send, hits the next snag: in order to submit an email form, guess what you have to have? That's right! a password (ba-dum-dum!)
Almost at the same time, Skype sends M a message saying that they've noticed he hasn't gone into his account for several months, and that, the credit in it, if not used by X days, will expire. Oh, the cruel, cruel world... I debated the prospect of making a video a la united breaks guitars, but I can't play guitar and I can't be bothered to write (or sing) a song for the world to see, and to be honest, I can't compete with Dave Carroll. More than anything, I'd just like to get skype working again. Anyone have any ideas?

It's Time

I could try to write something more beautiful, more profound about Ramadan, but sometimes it's better to recognize when someone has already found the perfect words, and just borrow them:

This month is a feast... not of noise, but of silence; not of banquets but restraint; not of forgetfullness but remembrance. This month is a feast for the faith. - Tariq Ramadan

I came across her writing

in a note on facebook, and though I hadn't seen her in a decade, though I couldn't quite place her location, her life, I felt I knew her essence again, could here her soft voice, her rising cadence, rushing forward, then retreating, as though each sentence was brought by the tide.
And I was transported to old coffee-houses during lit, to high school, to what was, oddly, my best writing time, the period in my life when I could, when I had the luxury, to bend over my notebook for seconds, turning into minutes, into hours, just to find the right word to fit the end of a line, a sentence, a feeling or thought.
I thought I was so tired then, so overworked, with my grade 11 lit and my algebra-geometry homework, with history and physics and world issues. I didn't know where I'd find the time to memorize Shakespeare and solve problems 3 a - i. I was overwhelmed.
It's almost laughable in hindsight, this emotion, this sense of purpose when I hadn't lived enough to have enough to write. And now, with something worth putting down, with my own stories, I am too afraid. If I share, will I be recognized? Do I want the recognition?
We are all afraid, have moments of defeat, of sadness or uncertainty, but we so rarely put them out there, so rarely want to use them as material.
I used to say, "I wrote this, but don't worry, I'm happy;" used to say, "don't worry, this isn't about me"; and usually it wasn't, but isn't life just a series of small joys and small disappointments building into larger moments? Isn't it normal in the day to have a moment where you don't have a clue, where you want to just stop? and then another where you could go and go and go to the ends of the round earth, where you would have to crash into a brick wall not to keep going?
She wrote about her life, and I could hear her in her words and I could see her brushing a wisp of straight black hair behind her ear as she read. I imagine one hand holding the paper, the other randomly reaching up to touch her head. Funny how we remember certain nervous habits, how her voice is still in my mind so many years later. How I can see her smile.
I told myself I wouldn't write for a living. I told myself I would write for life.

Who Knew?

Yesterday M and I and a few of our friends went for a bike trip around the downtown/lachine canal area of Montreal. It was supposed to take a couple of hours, 3 max. 6 hours later we were heading home with extremely sore legs, sunburns, hunger pangs, and huge smiles. I've biked along the Lachine canal before, but never past St-Pierre (the point where Highway 20 meets highway 138). Yesterday, we continued well past that point, and were rewarded by our discovery of Parc Rene Levesque, an absolutely gorgeous little peninsula off Lasalle, sticking out into the river.
On our way back downtown, we left the canal and rode back along the river path itself, through Lasalle and Verdun.
All I can say is that Montreal has surpassed my expectations for natural beauty and gorgeous, quiet neighbourhoods I didn't know existed. I'm somewhat in love with my adopted city right now. Stunning, and totally bikeable.

P.S. My sisters are back home in Cali and Dubai respectively. I miss them insanely but I'm surprisingly not bawling my eyes out every 5 seconds. I'm shocked at my resilience.

Acapella at its best

The whole thing is pretty impressive, but if you don't want to watch the whole vid, the first minute and 50 seconds are the coolest...

Going Home

On Thursday, all the angels go home (along with their parents, of course). I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, this flocking away, as though fall is here and the birds are leaving for warmer climates. I know Wednesday night will be hard. I've already warned my friends at work that I if they see me crying next Thursday, they know why...
Next summer, God Willing, each of the angels will be one year older, and one year wiser (although I'm not sure wise applies to anyone under 10, or even 20, and they're not even close. Maybe a better term would be 'one year more equipped to deal with the big bad world'?)
The two terrible two-ers will be terrible three-ers, approaching pre-school-hood, getting close to truer interactions with the world.
My oldest Angela will have finished first grade (first grade!), and she'll show off her reading with confidence and look up with that precious smile after hard words (her "did you hear that? Did you see that?" smile).
My oldest Angel just might manage to sit still a bit longer, having spent another year in kindergaarten and so becoming more familiar with desks, but honestly, this I doubt.
My little Angela won't be little anymore, she'll be a whole 4 and a half, and she'll keep doing her best "little grown up" immitations, and acting as though she's one of the big people, and pretending the terrible two-ers are her children.
I'm missing them already.