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a blur of activities

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It's been a happy convergence of spring going into summer events and my lack of travel (til Bangkok in July) that accounts for my frenzied schedule. The latest rundown (apart from the recent drama with the Caps):

Last Saturday, the international mother's day bazaar at the Islamic Center, which drew a lot of people who were also attending the EU Open Houses. MoBob and I went with three Moroccan friends, for whom it was their first visit to the mosque. Two ladies provided caftans and headscarves at the entrance, and, as always, I looked like a Malaysian exchange student.

That evening we attended "The Spirit of Polynesia" show at the Washington DC Temple Visitors Center. We were seated way in the back (Moroccan/Polynesian time) and heard a young man with a big, booming voice over the course of the evening. During the Samoan segment, we saw him bound down the stairs and start dancing on stage. It was a homesick Samoan elder! I hope he didn't get reprimanded for that.

Plus, I love that we were probably the only car with a Cal bumper sticker in the parking lot.

We were planning to see the Song1 installation but the skies didn't cooperate until Wednesday. MB and I brought camp chairs and enjoyed the projection. So beautiful. I actually teared up, though not at the specter of Giant Tilda Swinton. We were next to a young woman with five little ones who all looked under the age of 6 or 7, who sat calmly in the dark. We were all transfixed.

This is the stuff I've been working on: Obama Unveils Private-Public Partnership on Food Aid.

I was glad to see Daniel Libeskind speak at the Goethe Institute. The public was invited to listen to him converse with the director of the National Building Museum, which was a nice format. I took a look at my notes:
architecture is a musical performance
there is an urgency to history
history is what architecture is
the notion of a collective memory is very abstract
what is the difference between space and void?
there is a tension between the building and the exhibits it holds
Jacques Derrida was a friend of mine

And for the start of the weekend, we went to the famous Bistro du Coin. It was OK. The waiter was authentically distracted and rude, but accepted our orders in French.
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