kanafeh anyone?...

I don't even know where to start talking about my recent day in Nablus. So, I suppose it begins at kanafeh. A couple of weeks ago the city of Nablus was celebrating the entrance of the world's biggest kanafeh into the Guinness Book of World Records. It was the talk of Palestine without a doubt. I took the bus from Ramallah into the city center of Nablus and as soon as I saw the duar (square) I knew that I was in for a crazy day. After picking up a young American couple who just started working at the university, I headed into the madness of thousands and thousands of people gathering around the huge pan of kanafeh. I was in awe. Within a few minutes I ran into Mithqal and his little brother, Muhamed and his friend, Muhamed, who was there with his nephew, who's name was Muhamed. And no, I am not joking. Not much later another friend of Mithqal's came along to join us. Surprise, surprise... his name was also Muhamed.

So there we stood in the midst of this massive crowd. Me, getting stared at intensively, being the only non-Arab person around. Old Palestinian women pushing and shoving to get past us. Teenage boys oogling at the tattoo on my back that is barely peeking out from the top of my shirt. Actually seeing the kanafeh was impossible as the crowd surrounding it was at least 40-50 people deep. The next step was to try and get up high in one of the surrounding buildings. Unfortunately they were all locked. We were shooed away from one building as security preparations for the arrival of Palestinian PM Salam Fayyad were underway. A little after 11am, and after the press had taken the necessary pictures, the flood gates opened for the public to get a piece of this kanafeh, this moment in history. We were shoved along with the flow of hundreds of people trying to get their piece.

For some reason, despite the crowds and heat, I was determined. I started pushing my way towards the goal. I made it as close as I could and made eye contact with one of the kanafeh distributors. We gave each other a knowing look and a few seconds later, after holding up my hands in an Oliver type manner, I had myself about 4 pieces of this famous Nablusi dessert. I continued holding my hands up as if I was holding manna from heaven and made my way slowly through the crowd until it began to slightly dissipate. Afterwards, I followed Mithqal and his friends to a the Nablus Coffee Shop. I knew immediately that it was a men only coffee shop and was a bit apprehensive about entering; however I was reassured that because I am a foreign woman that it was ok. We were able to get a fabulous view of Nablus, while drinking fresh limon ma nana. Such a nice break from the craziness that was happening and that I had just escaped down below.

After refreshing ourselves we headed into the Old City with its narrow alleyways, ancient mosques, spice shops, sweet shops, and beautiful vintage barber shops. There is something about Nablus' Old City that is so much more authentic than, say, Jerusalem's. I love seeing the butchers in their tiny little alcoves and their huge wooden/tree trunk chopping blocks. I love seeing the children playing with toy guns in the tiny streets. I love seeing the cheap, plastic Palestinian flags flying proud strewn across the pathways. I love seeing the oldest mosque in the city always being filled to its capactiy on any given day at any given time. I love that we can just walk into one of the 2 ancient Turkish baths and be given an on the spot tour. I love that there are parks erected on the sites of horrible massacres that have occurred at the hands of the Israelis. I love that I can watch kanafeh being made by some of the most expressively jolly men I have ever seen. As usual, the beauty of this city never ceases to amaze me.

After a busy day in the hectic crowds and hot hot heat in Nablus, I had the chance to escape with Mithqal and his family to their village. Yitma is a small village about 10 miles south of Nablus and Mithqal's extended family owns a huge portion of it. We arrived at the family's "hill", where there are several houses that were built by the family decades ago. It was beautiful and peaceful. We sat out in their large garden smoking nargileh underneath a fig tree eating fresh picked almonds as the sun slowly creeped below the horizon. Palestine at its finest.

differences tossed aside...

S and I decided to go to Jerusalem last week to do a bit of shopping. There are some items that one can find in Israel that you can not find in the West Bank. For me - it is fancy beauty products. For S - good quality and (most importantly) stylish shoes. S squeezed his 6'3" frame into the tiny seats as we made our way from Ramallah to the Old City of Jerusalem. We got off the bus just north of the Damascus Gate and walked down into the depths of the never-ceasingly beautiful Old City. I never get sick of this place. Although, for the most part, the shops that line the narrow alleyways are filled with generic clothes, cheap trinkets, year-old candy, etc. there are a few gems that always make it worth while. For instance, the old Arab man with the tiniest of tiny metal working shops, where he sits day after day hunched over his saw, or his blow torch creating and fixing countless items. Or the spice shop that creates beautiful sculptures with mounds of za'atar, sumaq, and other indeginious spices. Or the butchers that have been operating for hundreds of years, with their freshly slaughtered lamb stuffed with parsley hanging out front for all to see (and smell). Or the Jerusalem Restaurant, which is where a 70+ year old man lives out his days making fresh falafel, meat-stuffed pastries, and various salads trying his best to entice tourists. He faces a daily struggle of making ends meet in his tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant which is situated just below his home right in the heart of the Muslim Quarter. He keeps his 15+ year old pictures of his one and only visit to the U.S. close at hand to show his customers. These are the reasons I keep going back.

A 15 minute walk through the Old City brings us to Jaffa Gate which is on the western side of the walls (the Damascus Gate is on the northern side). We walk outside of the Old City into a square where tourists and locals alike can get a view of both the ancient part of the city in East Jerusalem and the modernly developed part in West Jerusalem. The difference in the atmosphere and the people is staggering as opposed to where we had just came from (be it Ramallah or E. Jerusalem). I see 70 times more skin. I hear 70 times more American accents. I am so used to being in the West Bank that I have a tendency to go into culture shock when I enter W. Jerusalem. It is uncanny how different I feel - a feeling hard to describe other than to say that I feel slightly uncomfortable and on edge. I still haven't figured it out.

S and I headed down into Memella Mall, which is just down the steps from Jaffa Gate. This place is a brand new mall full of modern and trendy shops such as, Tommy Hilfiger, Top Shop, Crocs, Versace, etc. Not exactly my kind of place as I have an aversion to malls and these kind of shops in general. But a good place to go for what we were looking for. S was very impressed with the place and was in heaven being able to ogle the kind of women that he hadn't seen since leaving England. It was actually hilarious because his smooth-talking self had transformed back into a horny teenager. Afterward getting what we needed, we headed back into the Old City and I breathed a sigh of relief being back in familiar territory -- back to a place where I don't have to stop myself mid-sentence when I speak Arabic -- back to a place where I don't have to see other women's bosoms -- back to a place where I am made to feel like I am entirely at home.

day trip to bethlehem...

Heading out just before noon, myself, O and V went on a day trip to Bethlehem last week. Geographically, Bethlehem is fairly close to Ramallah; probably about 15 miles or so, if not less. However because Palestinians can not drive directly through Jerusalem to get there, they have to circumnavigate the city and approach Bethlehem from the east as opposed to the north. This route goes through the notorious Wadi Nar or Fire Valley, which is essentially a road that has been poorly constructed and planned and is one of the steepest, windiest roads I have ever been on. Last time I went on this road as a passenger I was extremely ill. However this time, thanks to the joys of dramamine, staying hydrated, and a decent driver I managed to escape Wadi Nar unscathed!

We dropped O off for Friday prayers in Beit Sahour (a village just east of Bethlehem) and while he was there V and I decided to take our chances at the Orthodox shepherds' fields. There are 2 "shepherds' fields" in Beit Sahour. The first one is a place I have visited before, where it is traditionally believed that the shepherds saw the star of the nativity before Jesus' birth. This is where the majority of tourists visit when in the region. However, most don't know that the Greek Orthodox church has an entirely different place that they believe to be the actual shepherd's field. V has tried to visit here at least a dozen times before, but they have always been closed. As we pulled up we saw a tour bus outside of the gate and thought that it must be a good sign. Alas it was! To our surprise the place was open. We went inside to an immaculately well kept garden courtyard. On the right was the Orthodox-style, red-roofed church rising high into the contrasting blue sky and on the left was a path covered with bright green blooming grape vines leading to ruins of an ancient monastery. It was beautiful.

After exploring, we headed back to the mosque to pick up O. From there we went to an area of west Bethlehem called Crimson, where there are some really lovely views of the olive groves and Palestinian hills. This place was off of the beaten path and the road was a dead end that led to a nunnery hidden in the hills. We parked the car and got out to admire the view. The sad part was that almost everywhere we looked we could see Israeli settlements or signs of Israeli interference. The bridge in the following photo cuts right through Palestinian land, yet can not be used by Palestinians as it was built purely to transport Israeli settlers "safely" back and forth from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. Oddly enough, as we sat there a car drove up and a man got out. He asked us if there was a place around there that sold wine. O, being suspicious, asked where he was from. He said Spain. Immediately V approached him and started to speak Spanish. It seems that she knew him and that he and his sister, who currently live in Palestine, had also lived in Colombia for some time. More and more each day I discover just how small a place Palestine really is!

Next we made our way to the Church of the Nativity -- a definitive stop while in Bethlehem. After swinging through the grotto so that V could say a quick prayer, we were invited by the head Armenian priest at the Church of the Nativity, a close personal friend of Os, to visit him in his office. We had to approach a door that is normally off limits to tourists and be buzzed in. We then entered the priest and staff only area of the church. It was amazing. They had a beautiful garden with grape vines everywhere, huge sunflowers, mint, etc. It looked and smelled lovely. All of a sudden I heard this raspy, robust voice coming from up some stairs. I looked up and saw a jolly man in his 50s with a big pot belly waving at us. It seems this was him. Up we went into his office where we listened closely to this chain-smoking, loud-mouthed, wonderfully happy priest of a man tell dramatic stories in Arabic to O. What I forgot about while witnessing this was the religious aspect. V reminded me. Here is Father --- sitting with O, an extremely devout Muslim and they are the best of friends. A prime example of how it could and should be especially in this part of the world.

After thanking Father --- for his time we headed to a new restaurant in Manger Square called, fittingly, The Square. Such a wonderful place to sit and people watch, drink a refreshing limon ma nana (pictured), and just plainly enjoy Palestine. Such a perfect ending to a fine day in Bethlehem.

office hunting...

The office that I work in is only a year old. It is in a very nice looking, new building and has all the amenities that one needs when it comes to office life -- air conditioning, heating, kitchen, parking, etc. This and its prime location on Al-Bireh Municipality Street cause most people to ooh and aww at it when they initially see it. Despite how it may look on the outside this office is basically crap. The central heating doesn't work and when it does is only turned on for 2 hours a day (yes, we do need heaters in Palestine -- the winters are cold!). The air conditioning system does not cool things down in a sufficient manner and is turned off at the hottest times of the day. The internet is sporadic. We have no hot water. The elevator doesn't work. The parking is so poorly planned that my boss has to maneuver at least 50 times just to get into her parking spot. This, and we are paying a ridiculously large amount for it. All these things combined have made it necessary for us to start looking for a new office and I must tell you what an adventure it has been.

In Palestine there are no tools to advertise for real estate or office space or apartment rentals. In the U.S. we have agents, websites, offices, magazines, etc. that are specifically for this purpose. Here, there is no avenue like this that one can go through when trying to sell property. Instead what we do is call. We call everyone we know. Perhaps they have seen a sign. Perhaps they work somewhere with an empty space. Perhaps they overheard someone talking about it. If calling doesn't work, we walk. We walk around asking the tenants of each building if they know of any available offices or buildings. If we see someone in the street we ask them. It is crazy, but it is normal.

A couple of days ago Mithqal and I were on a mission to find a new office. I called O to see if he knew of anything available in the area by his office on Irsal Street. Low and behold, he did... and he had a number to call. After contacting this gentleman, we made a plan to see the place. So, at the end of the day, Mithqal and I hopped into a taxi, went up to Irsal Street, and so began our quest. The first place we looked at was a huge office (280m2). Although the size was just right, unfortunately the fact that it didn't have parking was a problem. We thanked the man for his time and then scoped out a line of nearby buildings. We slowly approached them looking for someone who may know more. We spotted 3 elderly gentlemen sitting in a line, smoking nargileh outside of the 2nd building. Mithqal approached them and one of them just happened to be the owner. Wow, what do you know?! So he took us into the 1st building up to the 3rd floor where we viewed a small and quite dirty office. It was no good and wouldn't be suitable for what we are looking for. We said our goodbyes and going on another suggestion from O we walked to a different building in the area in hopes of having luck there. We were able to find what would be the equivalent of a "supe," who told us that there were no empty offices.

Undefeated, we walked back up to Irsal Street where Mithqal stopped to ask a woman for directions to the "mall" and also if she knew of any places that had offices available. What do you know? She did! She pointed us in the right direction and we were off again. We found the building and were immediately impressed. It looked brand new and was in a good location across the street from the Ministry of Finance. We couldn't find anyone to talk to, so we decided to do some exploring ourselves. We headed up to the top floor where there was a wonderful, spacious empty office that hadn't even been finished yet that we could explore. This particular office had a huge balcony and the 360 degree views of Ramallah were fabulous! We then walked down to the floor below us where there was an office already in place. We were able to finally get a hold of the building manager who showed us the rest of the empty offices. The spaces were very bright and well-constructed and the cost was very affordable. This, in addition to what we thought was a good location and secure underground parking made it thus far our top choice. We decided to call it a day, but not before calling our manager to let her know what we found. Unfortunately the location of the office was not to her liking. So... the search is still on.

cooler weather...

After a spell of a 90+ degree daily temperature, a good bit of cloud and wind has made its way to Ramallah over the last few days. Although it has made for slightly more humid weather, it has also made it tolerably cooler. This makes me happy as I can walk around and go shopping without sweat dripping from my face within 5 minutes of when I step outside. So the other day after work I went to the big produce market in Ramallah's city center. I have one particular vegetable stand that I always go to as it pretty much has everything I need and because the man who works it always gives me good deals. I made my way through the crowds -- young boys asking if I need a shopping cart, men saying "welcome, welcome," old women waddling along in their traditional Palestinian dresses, the specials of the day being shouted out, the smell of melon in the air.

I made it to my favorite booth. "Marhaba... keif halik? Shoaf barik? Shoo biddick?" (Hello... How are you? What is new? What would you like?) "Marhaba... taman, wa enta? Anna mish airif biddee... mumken shway kool ishi." (Hello... I am fine, and you? I don't know what I want... maybe a little of everything.) He handed me a bag (kees) and I started loading it up with tomatoes, cucumbers, and zuchinni. Then I asked him if he could get me a couple of green peppers (filfel). After putting the peppers in, he held up 2 hot chiles and asked if I wanted them. I said no its ok, but he put them in the bag anyway. Then I asked if I could get a couple of onions (basal). After he put the onions in the bag, he held up 2 potatoes and asked if I wanted them. I said "leesh la?" (why not?) and he threw them in too. So in the end I had a huge bag full of tomatoes, cucumbers, zuchinni, peppers (green and chile), onions, and potatoes. The grand total... a whopping 5 shekels -- $1.25. To say that produce is cheap here is an understatement. It is glorious!

After the produce market I needed to get some nuts (pecans to be exact) Getting nuts here is not like in the U.S.-- you don't just walk into a store and buy a can of mixed nuts, cashews, almonds, or whatever your heart desires. There are specific shops that specialize in nut roasting and they are where everyone purchases their nuts from. I have one particular place, Al-Maslamani, that I absolutely love. I got a 1/2 kilo of pecans (noos kilo joz) and then noticed that they had my favorite "Chinese mix" - a trail mix made of sweet and spicy rice treat goodness. You know how in most trail mixes there is one particular part that you like the most and that you can't get enough of? Like in gordetto's its those rye bread chips. Well this mix is no different. There are these large chunky dense rice cake things that are cheesy, and sweet and spicy and just plain delicious. I told Ghazi (the guy who works at Maslamani) "Anna bihib hatha bess" (I only like these), while pointing to the good bits. So, being the good man that he is, he took his scoop and worked his way through the Chinese mix and got me a little bag full of just my favorite parts. "Moomtaz... shukran jazeelan ya Ghazi!" (Perfect... thank you so much Ghazi!).

I needed a few basic food items (milk, water, yogurt) so I went to my local corner store, Ar-Rafedin, to pick them up. I was looking at the spice rack, taking my time because I had to turn all the labels around so that I could read them in English rather than Arabic just because I was too lazy to read the Arabic. The store was recently renovated and up at the registers they installed a call button for the staff to use if they need assistance from another staff member. When the button is pressed a kind of doorbell sound is heard in the store. On this particular day I was standing by the speaker where the sound was coming from. However, in addition to the ding-dong sound, there was also a creepy, high-pitched voice (think Bird Lady from Kids in the Hall) saying something like "hello and welcome." It completely caught me off guard and I thought it was the funniest thing so I just started laughing out loud in the middle of the store while looking at spices. Of course as soon as I started to laugh, some guys were walking by who had no clue why I was laughing. I couldn't stop. It was Bird Lady. In Palestine.

outlandish...

Those of you who know me well more than likely know that I don't particularly care for hip hop or R&B music. Ok -- maybe I liked it when I was like 9 and 10 years old -- but now... now is a different story. So when the prospect of going to a big R&B/hip hop concert (or party/"hafla" as the Palestinians call it since there is not a word in Arabic for concert) came about I was a little apprehensive; however I have told myself that I want to experience as many different facets of life in Palestine as I possibly could. So... on the internet I went to check out this band Outlandish, who are from Denmark and whose group members originally come from Morocco, Pakistan, and Peru and consist of 2 Muslims and 1 Catholic respectively. There music is nothing special -- just kind of chill out, mellow stuff; however I must say that the lyrics were intelligent and atypical of what one usually gets from this type of music (that was a total stereotype). They sung about the love for their god, the love for their wives, political issues (including the Palestinian situation), and such. Their lyrics are extremely positive and I have to say it was a breath of fresh air. I must admit that I kind of liked what I heard. I was surprised.

On Thursday I went with O and V and then later Mamoun to the "party." I felt like I had stepped into a completely different world where girls were scandalous and wore revealing clothing and smoked freely in public and where everyone spoke English with an American accent. I felt like I was in high school all over again. It was strange. The explanation for this could be a combination of things. More and more lately, Palestinians who lived abroad are moving back to their "homeland." Typically those Palestinians are the ones with money and the ones who can afford to send their children to a concert such as this one. In addition, Outlandish is quite big in the U.S., especially amongst the Arab and Muslim community -- by the way, the group sings in English, Spanish, and very little Arabic. On top of this, a lot of Palestinians who live in Israel came to Ramallah just for the concert. Hailing from Israel they have a tendency to be a bit more liberal - hence the revealing clothing and smoking.

We all started the show sitting; however Outlandish proved to be quite danceable and by the second song we couldn't resist getting out of our seats and shaking are butts. I find myself wanting to dance all the time in Palestine. I don't know what it is. Maybe its that Arab music is just amazingly danceable or maybe its just the atmosphere. The other day I found myself moving to the sound coming from the church bells in Bethlehem - what is that? So for the rest of the evening I danced and had a wonderful time. As you can see by the picture of other people dancing, it seems I wasn't the only one. Everyone was so happy to have an event like this in Palestine that it seemed that for one night social taboos were thrown out the window. Boys were dancing with girls in the same place! Wow... that's a big deal here! Other than the cheesy one liners that the guys from Outlandish kept spitting off, all in all a wonderful evening and one that does not come often for Palestinians. That, in and of itself, is a cause for celebration!

ramallah ramallah...

This past weekend was a busy one indeed. I will start at the very beginning... Wednesday. Myself and V had made plans with Ghada and Makazi, who was leaving to South Africa for a month. The plan was to try out a new coffee shop, La Costa, and then afterwards attend a screening of the first ever Palestinian-made animated film at the nearby Al-Kasaba Theatre. O dropped us off at Duar Se'a (Clock Square) and we walked to Al-Kasaba where we were to meet Ghada and Makazi. They were running late so we decided to do a little shopping in general vicinity. 15 minutes later we came back with some new scarves -- which seems to be the only thing I have purchased in Palestine that might be considered an item of clothing. A few minutes later we got a call from Makazi letting us know that she was just down the road. We headed their way and to our surprise saw that Nadia (a friend of Ghada's) was driving. She told us to hop in the car. When we tried to explain that we had particular plans she interrupted and again told us to get in. At this point we were backing up traffic and felt we had no other choice to hop on in. So our plan was foiled and instead we were crammed into a hot car and driven to Nadia's house, which is at the furthest western reaches of the city.

Nadia is an interesting woman - an aristrocat through and through. She has lived her life all over the world as the ever so blessed wife of an ambassador. She is now a widow, but still lives an extraordinarly privileged life. Her house is in the nicest neighborhood of Ramallah and is ridiculously big (3 stories) for just her and her daughter. She is an extremely brash person who isn't afraid to speak her mind and I have to admit there are times when I don't particularly care for her -- she is a bit too in your face for my liking. When we arrived at her house we sat in her front garden while we were served tea and Arab style cookies. Although our little get together (that Nadia originally was never invited to), was supposed to be in honor of Makazi who would be living for South Africa, the conversation centered around Nadia and I don't think Makazi was able to say more than 2 sentences the entire time we were there. I felt bad and needless to say, annoyed. Nonetheless we made the best of it with our niceties and such.

Once it came time for the film -- which fortunately had not been completely removed from the plan, Nadia dropped V and I off at the theatre where we met O who had been saving seats for us. Good thing he did because the place was packed! As soon as we took our seats I observed the copious amounts of internationals in the room. Ramallah never ceases to amaze me in regards to how many people from other countries it is home to. It is a constant reminder that my being here is in no way special.

The film itself was, as aforementioned, a Palestinian produced animated film; the first of its kind. The story was about a young woman living in the Gaza Strip who discovers that she has a lump in her breast. She eventually is diagnosed with breast cancer and will need treatment that cannot be given within Gaza, but rather in Israel. The film follows her and her family's struggles to enter into Israel and the ultimately tragic end that ensues. It was a very sad, but very well done movie showing the realities of life in Gaza. We concluded that it would be a great film to show to the international community, but is also a good reminder to Palestinians living in the West Bank of what the citizens of Gaza have to go through.

Since we were nearby to the new coffee shop that had been part of our original plans, we decided to stop by after the film. It is up on the 7th floor of a building in the city center near Duar Se'a. I have been scoping this place out for months -- I started to see the signs from the street below and my curiosity finally got the best of me. The particular building where La Costa is, is a bit run down and has a reputation for being slightly dodgy. However I must say that La Costa was a breath of fresh air. The decor was beautifully and modernly done in blacks, greys, and maroons. We took a table by the windows and were able to get a completely different view of Ramallah. The menu was simple; juices, coffees, cocktails, drinks galore, nargileh, and to eat, dessert only. I had my usual - limon ma nana and it was very nice. Something interesting about this place is that it has a small room that one can rent to play PlayStation and then another bigger room that is like a little mini-cinema. Kind of quirky, but fun nonetheless. Overall I really liked this place, the atmosphere, the location overlooking the city, and the drinks were good too. What concerns me is that it will turn into a shabab - or a place where only teenage boys go to hang out. While we were there, myself and V were the only females. I will go back; however only with a man in tow!

In the next few posts... Outlandish... Bethlehem... Ilham Almadfa'l... and pictures!!

sweet sweet generosity...

On a daily basis I am blown away and completely humbled by the generous nature of the Palestinians. Here is just one story: In a previous post I talked about a project I had been working on with staff and students from the Faculty of Fine Arts at the university. The first time I met with them, several months ago, they were so excited about the opportunity that had been given to them. To thank me for it, they presented me with a student-made ceramic plate that had been engraved with an ancient Palestinian cityscape and a symbolic old house key, representing Palestinian refugees' desire to return back to the homes that the Israelis expounded them from. It was completely unexpected and I felt that I was undeserving of such a gift, since I really hadn't done much at all other than coordinate between them and the organizers of the festival.

A couple of months ago I returned to the Faculty of Fine Arts for the annual student exhibition. It was amazing! The entire building had been turned into a big art gallery displaying various mediums of artwork -- ceramics, tiles, paintings, graphic design, architecture, etc. At the end of the day the dean of the faculty told me that I could choose something from the ceramic display for a gift. At first I said no because I felt bad taken home someone's piece of art that they had worked very hard on. After much insistence from the dean, I choose a beautiful muted turquoise plate with white Arabic script on it. The script was a quote from the Qur'an and if I remember right from O, the translation is a reminder to be kind and generous to others. How fitting!

While at the exhibition, I had also fallen in love with some of the paintings. There were a few that were of the old city of Nablus and were just beautiful. I thought of how nice it would be to have something like this as a keepsake of my time in Palestine. I asked one of the professors if they would ever consider selling the paintings. He said yes, but not until the exhibition was complete. I pointed out my favorite ones and asked that he keep an eye out for them and to let me know once they were on sale. A couple of weeks ago I hadn't heard from him so I thought I would drop him an e-mail to see if he had heard anything. He responded with the following (a direct quote from his message):

"Regarding the Painting that you like to have, I talked to a teacher who teaches landscape on this summer course. I told him to find the best student to make a new painting on the same style you like, inspired from the old city and will pay him just the materials. I want to make you a favor. I'll let you know when it is ready."

Needless to say, this was completely unexpected and entirely humbling. I am in awe. Period.