lumière des étoiles

home again, for now
2006-08-15 10:03 a.m.

Oh yeah, hi. We're home, thanks for asking. Missed that no-carry-on/bombs on British planes scare by about five hours. Came home healthy, except for my twitchy eye that turned out to be blepharitis. I've been on drops now for four days, so my eye is back to its regular size and is no longer itchy. Good thing I didn't touch any cats in Tunisia. Rest assured that whenever I post pictures of myself holding tiny kitties against the backdrop of some centuries-old Ksour, the tiny kitties are mere fakes. Really.

Besides coming home with various bacteria, I also did manage to come home with Fulah, the good Muslim Barbie doll who, while still having a disproportionate, overly-feminized body (a very narrow waist, huge boobs, and long, long legs) and sporting red cowboy boots, obediently averts her eyes (the doll doesn't look straight out, it's freaky) and stays well covered by her Chador. Nicole squealed with delight when I showed it to her - Jen's in Tanzania climbing Kilimanjaro, so I can't show it to her just yet, though I'm sure she'd also freak. My only regret is that I couldn't find three to buy (I had to hunt around for one; they aren't frequently bought by tourists so it's not like they're available in the medinas or hotels) so Jen, Nicole and I could play Fulah together. Nicole said we have to make a Fulah action show, a stop-motion animation type thing, I think. I'm game.

Tom's and Steve's dumbfounded faces while Nicole and I poured over Fulah the other night, just a day or so after we got home, were priceless. I guess it is hard to understand the interest in Fulah unless one was inundated and indoctrinated with Barbie-ness for most of one's childhood. And indeed, said my Women's Studies director yesterday (yes, I went into school already; I know, I know, if I keep this up I'll have stress-related health problems and blah, blah, blah), even if one did not PLAY with Barbie as a child, one most likely had enough knowledge of her (or dolls like her) to appreciate the irony of Fulah.

Because you see, Fulah does NOT look "Middle Eastern"; that is, her body does not look like the bodies of women of Persian, Arabic, Bedouin, etc. descent that populate the region where she is sold. Ok, she's not blond, but other than that, she's as white as can be, replicating the ethnocentric emphasis on a particular type of plastic beauty that we in the 20th century West have become so familiar with, from Barbie's inception and mass distribution in the 50's all the way to that stupid Playboy Playmate show on the E network - the one where everyone has painful-looking fake breasts.

The mingling of the oversexualized "look" of Fulah and the undoubtedly conservative "attitude" of Fulah - the box tells you she is very respectful of her parents and implies that she wouldn't dream of disobeying the government, and her head to toe chador keeps her gigantic boobs appropriately covered - is just the kind of precious irony that makes globalization so darn interesting. Yep. We're gonna make up a Fulah song soon, so do expect that action series to come along shortly.

Things have been great here - we really missed our friends and are slowly getting out to see them, and family too. I wanted to hang back from seeing everyone until my eye drops kicked in, lest I transfer my infection to someone else (though I found out it's not contagious like Pink-Eye is), and we were both just generally beat and massively jet-lagged. But perfect timing with getting back: we're joining Michael and Thomas down at Nicole's shore house in LBI this week. We're leaving today and we'll be back Friday. I made a big lasagna and Tom is making Paiella, and Michael's new boyfriend works at some posh NYC restaurant where they give him crates-full of fancy Chianti, which he sweetly offered to bring. Oh, and of course Fulah is coming along to oversee the festivities and keep us all in line.

xoxox