Heda Kovaly, Czech Who Wrote of Totalitarianism, Is Dead at 91

People of a certain age in the Czech Republic have had the misfortune of experiencing the full blast of the worst of the 20th century.  The Czech Republic was occupied by the Nazis longer than any other country.  Quickly after the nightmare ended, years and years of gray totalitarianism started.

While I have not read this author, I can't help but read her obituary and be impressed by her dignity, her humanity, and her sheer ability to survive.  Here's what the New York Times reviewer had to say about her book looking back on the worst of totalitarianism in Central Europe:

“This is an extraordinary memoir, so heartbreaking that I have reread it for months, unable to rise to the business of ‘reviewing’ less a book than a life repeatedly outraged by the worst totalitarians in Europe. Yet it is written with so much quiet respect for the minutiae of justice and truth that one does not know where and how to specify Heda Kovaly’s splendidness as a human being.”

Take a moment to click on my title and read about the life of Heda Kovaly, author of ''Under a Cruel Star.''

Starting My Third Year Without a Car

It never occurred to me that I could live without a car until I decided to become an ''Empty Nest Expat.'' Such is the constant brainwashing of Americans that the American dream must include a car.  Had I known how fantastic it is to not own a vehicle, I wish I could have given it up much sooner.

I sold my beloved Saturn red coupe the month before I left to go overseas.  A Saturn was the perfect car for a woman to own because it was possible to buy the car without negotiation and to pay for three years of maintenance up front. Saturn's innovation was pricing the product visiably so buyers didn't feel that it was a contest with the car salesman to see who could 'best' the other in deciding on a price.

As a Saturn car owner, all I had to do was drive the car into the dealership every 3,000 miles to get the oil changed.  My favorable opinion must not have been universally held because the Saturn brand went bankrupt a year after I sold my car. Even loving the car as I had, I didn't appreciate how much nicer life is without one.

Moving to Prague, I was able to enjoy a very simple, cost-effective transportation system at the low cost price of $22 a month.  This enabled me to have a wonderful quality of life because I could easily go home for lunch from most places in the city and I didn't have to devote any of my time to gassing up, car washes, or getting my vehicle maintained. I also didn't have to devote my time to being stuck in traffic because public transportation always had a dedicated lane, metro tube, or tram track.  Better yet, I no longer needed to earn the money necessary to own a car.  This opened up more free time.

I have lived in two subsequent cities since then: Madison, Wisconsin in the United States and Istanbul, Turkey.  In both places, public transportation works just fine and a car is superfluous.  I never want to go back to spending money on something I don't actually value!

When I get in a car now as a passenger (a very rare occurrence) I'm always struck by the stress that the driver is experiencing.  I am thrilled to give up that need for control and have the freedom and lack of stress created by leaving the driving to others.

I would never have learned this without moving to another culture because my own consumer culture constantly reinforces that I should own a car.

Not All Who Travel Must Leave Their Armchair

There are times in one's life when there is no possibility of travel.  When illness threatens, for example, or there are numerous small children to raise, or when the budget just doesn't allow for it. But there are still ways to allow the imagination to take off and see far-off lands and consider peoples and places that are new to us.

Recently, I discovered a blog that encourages precisely that sort of thing.  The Global Reading Challenge encourages people to select a book from each continent of our globe and read it.  This is exactly the sort of deep dive into each other's point-of-view that isn't happening enough in the Internet age of reading chunks of information.

As an American, I would often hear a recitation of American authors from my European friends that they enjoyed.  I have to admit, when an Italian teenager on the subway bumped into me and I was expecting something rude to come out of his mouth, he instead responded to my American accent and described all of his favorite outdoor American writers from Jack London to Jon Krakauer.  His favorite American writing? I was curious to hear what it would be.  ''The American constitution - where it says you have the right to pursue happiness. Beautiful!'' he said.

How could I not feel that this young man understood my culture after he shared what he had read about it? It would be impossible! The Global Reading Challenge has easy, medium, and advanced levels of challenge.  Wouldn't this be a fun challenge to do with a teenager in your family if you are a parent or grandparent? Has your book club challenged itself to read around the world? Click on my title to access the blog and reader reviews of suggested titles.

Pray that the Road is Long

Recently a friend shared a poem with me that she said reminded her of me.

I had never heard of this poem, but upon reading it, I enjoyed the compliment.  It is a wonderful poem that I now share with you.  Do you have an ''Ithaca?''

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.
Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.

It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Celebrating My 50th Follower!

Yea! I just had a new follower join my blog and excitedly clicked on her profile to see who she was. Please join me in welcoming Clare Wilson, a researcher who is doing a research project on expatriate spouses.  Not being married, I can't help her.  But I bet there are some expatriate spouses out there who can.  Will you take a minute to see if you are a perfect candidate for her research?  Thanks so much! Click on my title to see her blog. 

I Saw a Suicide Bombing in Istanbul Yesterday

Police work quickly to clear Taksim Square

Yesterday, I witnessed a bombing in Taksim Square in Istanbul.   I was seated on the third floor terrace of Simit Saray restaurant, enjoying traditional Turkish tea and simit with a friend, when a very loud boom and explosion silenced everyone in the usually bustling Taksim Square. We were about 100 meters from where the bomb went off.

The fiery explosion was about the size of a airport shuttle bus. It occurred right in front of where the Istanbul police park their dolmuşes (transport buses) to get out and assemble for duty along Istiklal Avenue.  There was a small car parked there and several police dolmuşes.  The bomb blast seemed aimed at the car.  When the explosion happened, it didn't appear as if anyone in the car reacted.  Maybe they were stunned or hurt.  There was a few short bursts of gunfire, maybe 10 shots.  I could not tell which police officer was shooting or at whom.  I merely heard the gunfire. It wasn't very much.

My friend and I crouched down but we felt relatively safe behind our balcony wall. We could see the situation unfold. "I don't think it's an Al Queda bombing," he said.  "Al Queda usually doesn't attack the police. If it were them, there could be a second bomb.  Al Queda usually bombs in twos. It could possibly be the PKK (Kurdish separatists) or a leftist group." Hearing him analyze potential bad guys, for some reason, made me feel safer. My Turkish friend had already lived through an Al Queda bombing in 2003 that claimed the lives of three of his colleagues.

The mother in me ached for those police officers as I watched them respond. I had nothing but friendly feelings toward these fine young men who graciously protect the many colorful protest marches that parade down Istiklal Avenue every Sunday.

All of my female friends with sons in the military flashed through my mind.  I remember feeling gratitude that my friends who had sons in service were not hearing the voices of the police officers react.  It could haunt them.

The police had a completely undefined, chaotic situation.  You could hear the terror they felt in their voices as the tried to clear the Square as quickly as possible. Taksim Square is an incredibly insecure area with streets jutting into it from several directions and a huge open plaza where another bomb could potentially have been planted. Taxis continued to barrel into the Square and the Police seemed to bang on their cars in a "haven't you heard?" sort of way.

Some people helpfully ran away, while others poked along in ways that seemed completely unconscious of what just happened. People seemed oblivious of the policeman's responsibility to get each one of  them the heck away from danger. Not only did the officers have to worry about another explosion potentially taking place, you could hear in their directives to people what I thought was anguish and anger over their fallen comrades. I could feel their vulnerability and their humanity.  Thank you, Istanbul police officers, for suffering on our behalf. You were heroic.

I counted four wounded: 1) a businessman in a suit with a red tie who had been propped up against a light post, unable to put weight on his legs.  He was later lifted and carried over to a bus kiosk. 2) A police officer with an injured left hand who kept working to clear the Square  3)one person laying down who looked seriously hurt and another one(?) whom I couldn't see.  I could only see his police officer comrade race on his behalf to the ambulance seeking immediate help for him.

 I did not know it was a suicide bomber until I read the news reports.  I didn't see any dead body laying around, but this bomber presumably was on the far side of the car from where I was seated.  I was surprised to read so many people were injured and I speculated when I read the numbers that there may have been police officers who had been between the dolmuşes where I wouldn't have been able to see them.  I have no idea how the higher civilian count happened.  I didn't see that many people injured.

In case there was a second bomb, we decided to exit Simit Saray and go down Istiklal Street to a safer place. The staff lifted up the metal roll-down door so we could leave.  Istiklal Street had been cleared of people for approximately 400 meters back.  We ran as quickly as possible to get behind police lines.

We stopped to have tea and listen to news reports at a restaurant off of Istiklal and then decided to go to the Kurdish restaurant of my friend's friend. "What could be safer than a Kurdish restaurant?", we joked.  I couldn't help admiring Turkish people's lack of hate toward their Kurdish neighbors both when I was up on the balcony and when we went to the restaurant.  Turks and Kurds live side by side in Turkey, the Kurds have a terrorist group aimed specifically at creating terror in Turkish people, and yet the Turkish people don't hate them. I admire that.

"I don't feel terror," I said to my friend. He said, "neither did I the day the first incident happened.  It's the next day when you start thinking about it that the terror starts.  The feeling lasts about a month." The other bombing my friend had lived through was much worse than this one and he had been directly involved in helping get people to safety. 

No group has claimed responsibility yet for this decidedly pathetic act. There was no logic to it and it didn't seem destined to have any lasting impact.  And for what purpose? None, that I could see. Indeed, if anything, this attack made the Turkish people "look good" because their hearts are large enough not to hate.  Whomever the perpetrators are can only look less admirable as people in comparison.

When I came back through Taksim later that night to go home, it was if nothing had happened.  People got off and on the funicular and climbed up the Metro steps into the Square.  Life moved on.  Thank you, God, for letting mine move on. Don't think I don't appreciate it.

Click on my title to read the New York Times account of the bombing and here to see CNN International amateur video of the event. The viewpoint in the video is the opposite side of the square from where I was sitting.

Name It. Change It: Sexism and Equality Don't Mix

This summer, I was without internet access so I got out of the blogging habit.  I'll eventually get around to sharing my adventures since coming back to Europe but for now, bear with me as I get all of my thoughts out about current events.

Frequently, on an expat blog like mine, the expat writing describes and explains the locals to the audience back home.  Today I want to do the opposite.  Czech Ladies, this post is especially for you.  I want to explain American thinking to you because our cultural gap is GIGANTIC on what I'm about to describe.  You can chose to tell me later that we Americans have it all wrong in the comments section.  

Back home in America, there's a hotly contested midterm election.  My friends back in the States are suffering through an average eight robo-calls a day (automatically-dialed, tape-recorded phone messages that tend to arrive during dinner time), 30-50 political ads on TV every day  (each one describing the other guy as a loser and the candidate in the commercial as a saint), and more election anger, zaniness, over-the-top media hyperbole than you would expect any democracy to be able to survive (the jury is still out on ours - we'll see).
 Into this crazy, over-the-top American election cycle (with more secret money than ever - almost $4 billion), a new advocacy organization started to try and hold media types accountable for how they choose to talk about female candidates. The name of the group is called "Name It. Change It."  Here's how they describe their mission:

Widespread sexism in the media is one of the top problems facing women. A highly toxic media environment persists for women candidates, often negatively affecting their campaigns. The ever-changing media landscape creates an unmonitored echo chamber, often allowing damaging comments to exist without accountability.

We must erase the pervasiveness of sexism against all women candidates — irrespective of political party or level of office — across all media platforms in order to position women to achieve equality in public office. We will not stand by as pundits, radio hosts, bloggers, and journalists damage women's political futures with misogynistic remarks. When you attack one woman, you attack all women.

I read that and said, sign me up! I'm a 1970's feminist. Feminist activism was the ferment of my youth.  Indeed, the feminist heroine of my twenties, author Gloria Steinem, was one of the founders of this new group (Czech ladies, the definition of that word in America is not "woman who henpecks her husband" as it is in the Czech Republic - I don't even have a husband.  It is woman who believes in Equal Rights for Equal Work, etc.).  I knew there was a need.

Yet, even I - someone who pays a lot of attention to this stuff - had no idea how much need! Every day "Name It. Change It." shares a different sexist media outrage.  When someone takes the time to organize and send media examples day after day after day, the toxicity of America's misogyny toward women is baffling and mindblowing.

Imagine if you were a Harvard-educated physician running for Governor, and your local newspaper declared that what you were a prime candidate for  - was a makeover! Or imagine this: as a candidate for President of the United States and the first woman to ever achieve 18 million votes for the office, you wake up to find a famous news and opinion aggregator is wanting readers to evaluate the hair clip you wore to the U.N - " is it a do or don't?" It happened to Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. Yes, I know, she'll survive.  But once you have put the time and work in to reach a certain level, you'd expect to be treated with some gravitas. One of America's shakier Senate candidates, a political novice named Christine O'Donnell of Rhode Island, is the subject of an anonymous severe misogyny attack.  "Name It. Change It." describes sexism in the media according to this pyramid of egregiousness. 

So this week I was reading their latest missive and it's not about American elections, it's about Czech elections! Apparently, the ladies you've elected have chosen to model in a calendar that emphasizes their body parts over their policy positions. Hence, our unbridgeable cultural gulf!  American women decry the treatment of a candidate who gets discussed in the media like this but if your female politicians are voluntarily choosing to pose for a pin-up calendar, are they not asking to be accepted based on how they look, not how they believe and vote?

I remember being in the room once with a bunch of Czechs politicians.  By the end of the night, it came out that the most respected man in the room was the one with bright red cheeks and the biggest belly in the room.  Not a single ounce of him was judged on his looks.  But every man at my table spoke of him with admiration. Reversibility is a key measure of media equality - that Czech politician would never need to, be expected to, or want to pose for something like a pin-up calendar to inspire voters.

Ask yourself, Czech ladies, if your female politician's calendar impedes achieving the gravitas needed to gain that level of respect. It's not useful for you to say that the standards are different for women.  They'll never be different if you don't ask for them to be different. Name It. Change It.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this issue. Americans, if you want to support the work of this exciting new group, you can follow them on Facebook and Twitter.  What leaders you would be - there are less than 1,500 people following their work to date - they are simply that new.  Once, you sign up to follow Name It. Change It., can you ask your friends to follow them too?  Election season will soon be over.  If you're a journalist, I would suggest following them as well.  Heightened sensitivity to how media plays into old archetypes brings progress in coverage.  Name It.  Change It. Sexism and equality don't mix!