Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
Someone in my book club in Qatar mentioned this book, Cutting for Stone, a while back, and I bought it, but it has sat for months on my to-read shelf (LOL, there are actually several, but one with the most important books, and another with the ‘guilty pleasures,’ the ones I am addicted to and save as a reward for good behavior, like vacuuming.)
When a good friend said she was reading it, and that it was good, I decided to move it up in priority, sort of like taking medicine, read a book that is good for you.
Oh WOW.
First, it is a great, absorbing story. Twin boys are born, totally unexpected, to an Indian Catholic nun and an English surgeon, working in Addis Ababa. How they were conceived is a mystery. The mother dies in childbirth, the father flees in horror, the children are born conjoined at the head and must be separated. The boys are adopted by an Indian couple, doctors at the hospital, and are raised with love and happiness.
That’s just the beginning!
I’ve always wanted to go to Ethiopia and Eritrea. I want to visit Lalibela, and some of the oldest Christian churches in the world. When my father was sick, he had a home health aid from Ethiopia, Esaiahs, who told me about the customs in his church, and how Ethiopian Christianity is very close to Judaism, with men and women separated in the church, and eating pork forbidden.
Reading this book, I felt like I had lived there, and I want to go back. The author captures the feelings, the smells, the visuals, the sounds, and if I awoke in a bungalow at the MIssing (Mission) Hospital, I would say “Ah yes! I remember this!”
I kept marking sections of this book that I loved. Here is one:
They parked at Ghosh’s bungalow and walked to the rear or Missing, where the bottlebrush was so laden with flowers that it looked as if it had caught fire. The property edge was marked by the acacias, their flat tops forming a jagged line against the sky. Missing’s far west corner was a promontory looking over a vast valley. That acreage as far as the eye could see belonged to a ras – a duke – who was relative of His Majesty, Haile Selassie.
A brook, hidden by boulders, burbled; sheep grazed under the eye of a boy who sat polishing his teeth with a twig, his staff near by. He squinted at Matron and Ghosh and then waved. Just like in the days of David, he carried a slingshot. It was a goatherd like him, centuries before, who had noticed how frisky his animals became after chewing a particuar red berry. From that serendipitous discovery, the coffee habit and trade spread to Yemen, Amsterdam, the Caribbean, South America, and the world, but it had all begun in Ethiopia, in a field like this.
We live inside the hearts and minds of doctors, some practicing under the worst possible conditions, and learn how they make their decisions and why. Verghese is a compassionate author; while his characters may be flawed, they are forgivable and forgiven.
Another section I loved, the man speaking is Ghosh, the man who adopted the twins with Hema, another doctor:
“My genius was to know long ago that money alone wouldn’t make me happy. Or maybe that’s my excuse for not leaving you a huge fortune! I certainly could have made more money if that had been my goal. But one thing I won’t have is regrets. My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they’ll leave in people’s hearts. They realize that no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit.”
Things in Ethiopia get sticky, politically, and one of the twins is forced to flee, implicated in an airplane hijacking only because he was raised with a young woman involved. He is spirited into Eritrea, where he awaits his ride out to Kenya, and he helps the Eritrean rebels when large numbers of wounded are brought into his area. When the time comes to leave, his thoughts will strike a chord in anyone who has ever been an expat:
Two days later I took leave of Solomon. There were dark rings under his eyes and he looked ready to fall over. There was no questioning his purpose or dedication. Solomon said “Go and good luck to you. This isn’t your fight. I’d go if I were in your shoes. Tell the world about us.”
This isn’t your fight. I thought about that as I trekked to the border with two escorts. What did Solomon mean? Did he see me as being on the Ethiopian side, on the side of the occupiers? No, I think he saw me as an expatriate, someone without a stake in this war. Despite being born in the same compound as Genet, despite speaking Amharic like a native, and going to medical school with him, to Solomon I was a ferengi – a foreigner. Perhaps he was right, even though I was loath to admit it. If I were a patriotic Ethiopian, would I not have gone underground and joined the royalists, or others who were trying to topple Sergeant Mengistu? If I cared about my country, shouldn’t I have been willing to die for it?
The book has a lot of observations about coming to America; some of which made me laugh, some which made me groan. Coming back is always a shock to people who have lived abroad for a time, but it is a huge shock to those coming for the first time:
The black suited drivers led their passengers to sleek black cars, but myman led me to a big yellow taxi. In no time we were driving out of Kennedy Airport, heading to the Bronx. We merged at what I thought was a dangerous speed onto a freeway and into the slipstream of racing vehicles. “Marion, jet travel has damaged your eardrums,” I said to myself, because the silence was unreal. In Africa, cars ran not on petrol but on the squawk and blare of their horns. Not so here; the cars were near silent, like a school of fish. All I heard was the whish of rubber on concrete or asphalt.
As I neared the end, I read more slowly, unwilling for this book to end. It is one of the most vivid and moving books I have ever read. AdventureMan has gone online to find the nearest Ethiopian restaurant so we can have some injera and wot.
Arlane Williams BBQ
We were on our way back home from the commissary, and the smell overwhelmed us. It was lunchtime, and we were ravenous. And here was Arlane Williams, famous Pensacola barbecue – heaven sent, and heavenly scent. 🙂
On the outside:
There is parking back near the BBQ area; see that smoke? You cannot resist:
Inside, it is take out only. The woman in the booth is on the phone writing down a large order, we have to wait our turn. The inside has a big menu on a chalkboard, and is papered with photos of Arlane Williams BBQ fans:
I am sorry to tell you, I didn’t get any photos of the food. We rushed home with our pulled-pork sandwiches, our sides of beans, potato salad, baked potato salad, sweet potato casserole and blackberry cobbler and peach cobbler (all the sides and desserts are in small containers, so it isn’t as much food as it sounds like.) I had to get all the cold stuff put away, and by then we were starving and half-crazed from the delicious smells, and we just ate our lunches without any photos, LOL. Now, we can’t stop thinking about Arlane Williams BBQ; it is GOOD!
The Dressmaker by Posie Graeme-Evans
When I wrote up this book for another site, I could not even remember the main character’s name. (Ellen Gowan) I found the book annoying, and most of the time, when a book annoys me, I don’t even tell you about it, I just don’t bother reviewing it at all.
I find the plot thin. I find the characters unmotivated. I find many of the choices of the characters unbelievable. We haven’t been given enough back-story to make the characters truly live.
Ellen has a real streak of bad luck. On her 13th birthday, a well-born young man gets fresh with her and in rural Victorian England, it becomes her problem – her reputation is damaged by a callow young man from a wealthy family. On the same day, an earthquake strikes her village, killing her father, and she and her mother subsequently lose their home.
They take up residence with Ellen’s aunt, her mother’s sister, and it is a happy time, all except for her aunt’s husband, a cruel man who isolates and beats his wife, who can do nothing about it. A wife is property. Her marriage was arranged; she has no where to go if she were to leave. She works hard at keeping her husband happy, so he won’t beat her or take it out on anyone she loves.
When you are dealing with an abusive manipulator, however, there is no pleasing, right? Ellen and her mother are thrown out, but also thrown a lifeline, and take up residence with a dressmaker, where Ellen hones and develops a talent for costume design (meaning evening dress, calling clothes, mourning clothes – wealthy Victorian women had huge wardrobes of ever-changing fashionable clothes.)
Ellen makes some really bad choices – in my opinion. I’m not going to tell you what those choices are, because I don’t want to give you too much of the story, in case you want to read it yourself.
Long story short, she ends up a very successful fashion designer/producer in London, only to face ruinous blackmail because of her past.
OK, here is what I really liked about the book. While I found the characters, descriptions, plotlines and dialogues pretty awful, I loved reading about the fashions, and I found reading about the social status of women – not all that long ago – where women in England had few choices and fewer opportunities – fascinating. I have friends in Kuwait and Qatar who face some of the same limitations. How soon we forget; it wasn’t that long ago that we faced the same challenges, the same limitations.
The freedom to live on our own. The freedom to earn and manage our own money. The rights to our children. All these issues are fresh in The Dressmaker, and too easily taken for granted in our own.
Ash Wednesday in Pensacola 2011
Luke 18:9-14
9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’
(From the Lectionary readings for today)
“I forgot to set my alarm” AdventureMan said, coming down the stairs, “we missed the first service.”
Today is Ash Wednesday, the day Lent begins for Christians. We go to church, the priest puts a cross on our forehead in ash, to remind us “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”, that our life here on earth is only temporary, and that our true home is heaven.
It’s easier to believe that in your gut when you are an expat.
My cousin wrote to me, and in his email, he wrote that I write about my own culture the same way I wrote about Germany, about Qatar, about Kuwait – as an expat, as an outside observer. Pensacola is like my foreign assignments; I could live here for twenty years (God willing) and I will never be a native, I will always be from somewhere else, the kind of person about whom others will say “she must not be from around here.” I am guessing I will get more comfortable, more confident, but I will always be not-quite-right among the natives.
And that is how we are supposed to be living here on earth – as people not-quite-right, as people eager to return to our true heavenly home.
Lent in my own country is odd to me, now. In a foreign country, you are accustomed to thinking of yourself as a minority; your differentness makes you more aware or who you are, and what you value. There is a part of me that thinks Lent would be a lot easier if, like Qatar, and like Kuwait, and like Saudi Arabia, religious practices were state enforced, like everyone in the USA fasted at the same time, maybe nobody would sell meat or chocolate or alcohol. And then, I think “but what is the point?” The point is our own sacrifice. Is it a sacrifice if it is enforced from the outside?
I can’t sacrifice cussing in traffic this year. Pensacola traffic, by the grace of God, is nearly non-existent, and it is mellow. I’m not even tempted. I’m trying to figure out what I will sacrifice.
Father Neal Goldsborough at Christ Church Episcopal told us on Sunday how all the children come in from the Episcopal Day School to have the ashes imposed, and how poignant it is for him, and I can’t help but think of all the soldiers he has been with at their death, mere children, children of God, and how he must see the faces of these soldiers in the faces of these tiny children. My heart would weep, even knowing they are on their way home.
Chamber Music Concerts at Old Christ Church
AdventureMan and I have discovered a concert series we really like. The University of West Florida Music Department has a chamber music series, giving students a chance to play publicly, and offering chamber music lovers (moi) a chance to see and hear them perform in a delightfully intimate setting, old Christ Church in downtown Pensacola. It’s so far downtown that it’s almost on the waterfront.
The concerts take place once a month, Wednesdays at noon, and are FREE. There is a donation container in the entry at Christ Church but there is no one shaking it or looking at you meaningfully. If you can’t make a donation, the donation police are not going to hunt you down.
Meanwhile, if you show up for these concerts, you are in for a treat. The Director of the chamber music program, Hedi Salanki-Rubardt, gives her students a lot of leeway, and a lot of inspiration, and you can see they truly love what they are doing, and enjoy being a part of the program.
Giustino Carrano – tuba
Matthew DeDowell – trombone
Allison Gilliard- soprano Marshall Corzette – baritone
Lynsey Boothe – steel drum
You don’t usually think of a steel drum as a traditional chamber music instrument, but Hedi Salanki played the harpsichord, and Lynsey Boothe played the steel drum and they rocked Vivaldi. It was a lot of fun.
Smokin’ in the Square: BBQ in Pensacola
One of the most fun weekends of the year, and after weeks of beautiful weather, Saturday dawns cold and rainy, and the big barbecue contest and the big Pensacola Mardi Gras Parade are scheduled for this day. Fortunately, the skies held back until late in the day, and both barbecue cook-off and Mardi Gras were a big success.
AdventureMan and I hit the cook-off after a spring vegetable growing class out at Garden Gate Nurseries. Oh, what fun. People from all over the barbecue-ing states of the nation competing to produce the best barbecue. Heaven!
Live music at the fest
This is what we had to eat – Tennessee Tacos; pulled pork with baked beans and cole slaw on top of a flour taco shell, with your choice of barbecue sauce. YUMMMMMMMMM.
Comfort and Joy
I’ve been catching up with my bible study homework, and one of the questions had to do with ‘when has God’s comfort and compassion brought joy in your life?’ and I had an answer!
It was today!
Our son had been away on a trip; he came home early. We all got to go to church together. We all got to go to breakfast together, and Baby Q was as good as gold in the restaurant. We always figure with four adults, we can trade off if he gets bored or restless, but he is getting better and better at sitting and eating with the rest of us. He is also getting very adventurous in his eating habits; last night eating hot and sour soup, Thai curry, Thai fish, along with some mandarin oranges and lichis.
Today, it was breakfast food. AdventureMan ordered the Vegetable plattter (he got to choose the vegetables) and when it came, three of the four selections were NOT meat-free (he didn’t care).
Baby Q got to eat collard greens, red beans and rice and some of Mom’s omelette:
And a few bites of Dad’s short stack:
It is hilarious; Baby Q is feeding himself. He is very fussy; he doesn’t like anything that sticks to his hand, and after one bite, he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. His Mom says the kids in his class at Baby School are starting to eat with a spoon, so Baby Q will be starting that, too.
We are off to the park to take some photos of Q and his parents. 🙂 My life is full of comfort and joy. 🙂 Thanks be to God; Alhamdallah!
Lord of Death by Eliot Pattison
I didn’t know that much about the Chinese obliteration of Tibetan culture in Tibet. I didn’t know about the systematic destruction of the monasteries, or at least not in detail. I didn’t know about the brutal re-education techniques for the Bhuddist monks. I didn’t know how strong and resistant the peoples of Tibet are to the Chinese incursion.
I’ve learned most of what I know reading Eliot Pattison’s series featuring Shan Tao Yun, a Chinese detective. Or he used to be. In the first book, The Skull Mantra, we meet Inspecter Shan Tao Yun in one of those re-education camps, where he has been tortured and mistreated almost to his physical limits, and the Bhuddist monks teach him new ways of thinking, and those ways help him to see things differently – and to survive.
The Tibetans hate the Chinese, but they make an exception for Inspector Shan Tao Yun, who earns the respect of both Tibetans and Chinese for his unwavering integrity, and his ability to solve the most intricate puzzles. As he does, we learn more about different aspects of life today in Tibet.
The Lord of Death introduces us to the evolving mountain climbing industry developing in Tibet, just across the border with Nepal. Western climbers will see themselves in a very new light reading this book, which involves the murder of the visiting Chinese Minister of Tourism, an American female climber, and former members of a clandestine CIA trained group of Tibetans during WWII.
In every volume, I learn something fascinating. In this book, I learned more about the early struggles of the Chinese Cultural revolution, the corruption of Chinese ideals, and more about Tibetan ways of thinking. I cannot wait for the next book to come out. You can visit his website here: Eliot Pattison.com
Michelin Red “R”s in Pensacola
There is an entire category of restaurants we call Michelin Red R’s, which is for good local food at reasonable prices. I don’t even know if the category still exists, but these are the restaurants where the locals eat.
We’ve eaten high and we’ve eaten low. What we found was that while we have loved many excellent French restaurants, often in the most expensive restaurants, the food is too rich for us. We spent a wedding anniversary at a two star French restaurant, one year when we lived in Germany, and had the tasting menu, which was delicious. At least the first three courses or so were delicious; it’s about all we can remember. Even though portions were tiny, they were rich, and fatty, and we were up all night digesting the rich food. It’s hard to go into these restaurants and only order a soup and salad, or anything simple, so now, when in France, we only go rarely, with friends, and select carefully.
Our all time favorite dining has been in the Red R’s. Once, in Concarneau, we were directed to a local Red R where we were the only non-French people in the restaurant. There may have been other items on the menu (I am sure there were because we had our son with us and he would not have eaten mussels) but we had the Moules – we didn’t see anyone eating anything else. They were so simply prepared – steamed in white wine with garlic and parsley, maybe just a little butter. And they were divine. A little bread, salad, moules, and something truly ordinary, like chocolate mousse or dessert – it was heaven. We sat at long tables, full of French families, the windows dripping from the steam of all the mussels – not elegant dining, but fully memorable, simple and delicious.
We have found some Red R’s in Pensacola, and we give them a try, but in Pensacola, much of the traditional local food is deep fried, so we have to eat with caution. Our favorite Pensacola Red R restaurant is nearby, the Marina Oyster Barn, where we can get our seafood grilled. It is always full of local people, not tourists, and I love their oyster stew. We also love their grilled tuna, their crab cakes, and their grouper sandwiches. Actually, there is little we do not love there. 🙂
The grilled tuna:
We stopped at CJ’s a week or so ago (on Garden, near Pace), and the place was packed; we had to wait for a table.
CJ’s club sandwich with onion rings:
CJ’s Reuben sandwich with onion rings:
We can understand why the place is packed; they have fabulous local food. My Reuben was really good. We probably won’t go back; everything is accompanied by french fries and we couldn’t resist trying the onion rings, which you will notice are fried, and there are a lot of them. We can’t afford to eat like that. Our wallets can handle it; our hearts cannot, LOL.
Part of what we want to do it to make ourselves try new places. We find a few we like and we get into a rut, going back to them. AdventureMan had always wanted to try this place, Porcetta’s, also on Garden:
I had thought it was a take-out place, but I was wrong, there was seating inside for maybe forty people. You order at the counter; here is the menu:
AdventureMan had soup and a ham and cheese grilled sandwich – delicious! There was so much food that after eating the soup, he could only eat half a sandwich, and took the additional half home for dinner.
I wanted to get the Porcetta, not knowing what it was, and the smallest I could get was the Big Mama. It was good:
We often go to Sonny’s BBQ, a Florida chain, where the real Sonny actually visits all the restaurants himself, to make sure they follow his standards. We really like Sonny’s smoked turkey, and tell ourselves that it makes barbecue healthy. If you know differently, please, please – don’t tell us.
I mention Sonny’s because it is a Red R – always packed. Sonny’s is a very large restaurant, so when we arrived a week or so ago and it was packed and about 50 people were waiting to get in (there was a bus with maybe some sport team and maybe a band from Louisiana) we decided to head across the street to the new Chow Tyme. Normally we avoid Chinese buffets, but this place is new and we wanted to see what it was like.
Chow Tyme, off 9th near Creighton, is not what you would usually think of as ‘local’ cuisine, but these days local can be more diverse, and Chow Time is . . . . diverse. Just open, they did a really smart thing, they bought billboards all over town to advertise their opening. It paid off.
It’s hard for me to imagine how they can make money, even with all the customers. They offer so much food. Everyone was chowing down on the steamed crab, which was coming out hot and served with melted butter. There must be room for 300 – 400 patrons in the restaurant; it is huge. At the same time, there is fresh grilled food coming off the open grills, and it isn’t bad. There is also fresh sushi. There is also pizza. Macaroni and cheese. Ice Creams and puddings for dessert. It is a bad mix, but the customers are happy, so who am I to criticize? Chow Tyme is packing in the locals, and the price is reasonable.
Final Week of Mardi Gras in Pensacola
Tonight is the Grand Mardi Gras parade in Pensacola, and I thought I would go. I was even betting I could talk my daughter-in-law into going with me, but the day has dawned windy and rainy, and the forecast is 100% for thunderstorms tonight.
Of course, 100% predictions just make me laugh. It could be that there will be no storms tonight, and no rain and no wind. But I’m putting any plans on hold.
Meanwhile, everywhere you go, you see the green, purple and gold of Mardi Gras in Pensacola. Houses have Mardi Gras wreaths on their doors, and masks decorate tables and walls.
Wreaths for sale at Sam’s Club:
Wreath at the Marina Oyster Bar:
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Early Voting in Florida
