Of exhaustion and exasperation

When I landed in Toledo as an international student and also as a Teaching Assistant, I had to endure two days of orientation; one day for international students (which felt kinda childish) and one day for Teaching Assistants. They were not very useful. And man, I hate anything mandatory, especially when it's inefficient. But still, that was nothing compared to the orientation I went through as an undergrad student. Here, we were confined to workshops (and other ways of wasting time) from morning till afternoon. We were free at night.

Back then, they took us to a three day camping (that we called boot-camp, because of all sort of regulations imposed on us). So, we were at the mercy of our orienters, day and night. And we were a bunch of unruly mischievous guys having jumped from high school into university after passing a nightmarish competitive entrance exam (one of the orienters, confessed to me later that we were the worst cohort they had over recent years). But despite all regulations and restrictions we still managed to have some fun. And out of those mundane workshops and orientation sessions, some friendships developed that last after 17 years.

But neither of those orientations in Tehran and in Toledo were as torturous as the ordeal I went through in Carbondale this August. Yeah, you got it right: another series of mandatory orientation workshops. But this time, it was week-long; Monday to Friday, from morning till afternoon. And except for a few of those workshops, they felt outstanding in their inefficiency.

We engineers are very obsessed about efficiency. That's one of the cornerstones of engineering (compared to pure sciences). If you do the best job over an unreasonable time, it's practically worthless. There might be some inherent value to the job (or your intention), but it's not worth the money and time spent to accomplish it. And time is money.

I'm well-known among my friends and former bosses alike for my perseverance and patience when I set my eye on something. In that sense, I was known by my teachers at school as an exemplar scientist, although I eventually ended up in engineering for trivial financial reasons. But even before landing in engineering, when it came to matters of practicality (although I had my times of pure-science-approach sometimes), I was overly obsessed and extremely impatient about inefficiency. And years of engineering made it even worse.

Over one of the workshops, somebody mentioned that people have different learning skills, some learn better by hearing and some others are better at reading. Well, people who attend these orientation workshops are graduate students. If they're incapable of comprehending written guidelines on such basic information about school and what to do there, something is wrong. How are they going to survive graduate school where they have to read tons of written stuff with much more complicated and sophisticated material therein?

And we had to endure this torture in an overly cooled lecture hall. Another clear example of inefficiency. People are nagging so much about gas prices and running around advocating for energy conservation. Is it so difficult to regulate the air conditioning of a building?

By Friday afternoon, I was so exasperated sitting in lecture halls and conference rooms, day after day, morning till afternoon, listening to things that I could have easily read over a few hours. I excused attending the department chair's welcome party, under the pretext of presence of alcohol (we Muslims cannot even sit on a table where alcohol is served) and escaped to Mother Nature. And I found the best way to counter this psychological exhaustion by way of physical exhaustion. I biked my way toward Giant City State Park which is some 6 miles to the south of Carbondale (the park runs about 4 miles further south).

Southern Illinois is hilly. Tehran (especially its northern neighborhoods) was hilly too. Tehran is located at the foothills of Alborz mountains and I was used to bike northward to go mountain climbing. But having spent my time in more or less flat roads of Northwest Ohio has spoiled me (I guess I'm spoiled by many things in Ohio). So, biking over those hills was quite a challenge to me. And there were other challenges as well.

Some people cannot understand the simple fact that dogs (however lovely and cute) are animals; they are not human being. Dogs, if not within the fenced perimeter of their owner's house, should be restrained at all times and barred from running loose in public roads. Failing to do so could result in accidents like what happened to my advisor here (who is a professional cyclist). Have a look at his blog to see what happened to him this March as a result of such negligence.

I had the same problem while hiking in the country roads of Northern Iran; dogs jumping out of nowhere and chasing you. Dogs generally find it fun running after anything (or anybody) moving. The faster you move, the more enticement for them to show you their physical strength and playfulness (and maybe territoriality).

And here, as I was on a bike, I provided excitement to 2 road-runner dogs. One of them sprinted from its owner's home which was more than 200 yards from the road. As it was one of those miniature puppies, I didn't take it seriously. I guess it was offended by my disregard and tailed my bike on the road for another 200 yards or so, barking at the top of its tiny lung all the way. Eventually, I had to slow down and bark back at my tiny fluffy escort. Assuming it had made its point to me (not to underestimate tiny creatures), it slowed down and backed off home.

When I returned to Carbondale at night, after going up and down those hills, I was quite exhausted and soar. But the next day, I still felt like having more exhaustion-therapy (treating one sort of exhaustion by another sort of exhaustion) to be able to sit my classes next week. This time, I went eastward for Crab Orchard Lake, another hilly area. I met a father and son (who had landed from East Coast in Southern Illinois) while they were working on their sailboat. They were so kind to walk all the way back to their car to give me a map of the lakes in that area. They also provided me with a lot of information about places to have fun in Southern Illinois area.

They also gave me some info about dangerous species in Southern Illinois. I shuddered to hear that we have rattlesnakes and other venomous snakes around and I should not feel free to put my feet carelessly anywhere I like. Those good old days of Northwest Ohio are over. There, the most dangerous species we had were mosquitoes (who were very persistent in their job).

Then, they informed me of moonlight canoing on the Campus Lake every month. Free for students. Yea. They also told me of the free sailing next week on Crab Orchard Lake.

As if my exhaustion-therapy was not enough, I ventured for this free canoing event. My East-coaster friend and his wife (who works at school) taught me some basics of canoing (it was my first time ever rowing on a boat). Then, they let me practice. In the beginning, it seemed fairly easy. But when I switched position and sat in the back, I found the job of navigating not to be so easy. This guy was very patient with my awkward failed efforts to direct the canoe in the right direction.

I guess engaging in these kind of activities would be the only way I can survive grad school in a small college town. Just if I can ever find time to get out of town when classes begin.

Landing in Carbondale, IL

My 32 hour odyssey to land in Toledo, although long and exhausting, was not distressing. It was not the case with my landing in my new hometown in Southern Illinois.

I came to the US with 2 pieces of luggage, a backpack and a handbag. I had to leave behind almost my entire library and my rich collection of music which I had accumulated over years. And I admit that I'm much into books and music. Over my time in Toledo, I gathered a whole lot of books, a big chunk of them came from the library of late Professor McGuire (who dedicated all his books to students). I had to leave most of my new belongings in Toledo to move to Carbondale.

Now, I had the same 2 pieces of luggage, backpack and handbag. And as I had showed some patriotism over my time in Toledo (buying some clothes that I didn't have to buy, but bought because they were on sale), I had to carry another backpack and also a handbag (for last minute items that I had not been able to push into any of those bags or luggage). And unlike my journey from Iran to the US, this expanded collection of belongings gave me a hard time.

Back then, I just took a taxi from my parents' home to the airport. And I had nothing to do with my luggage over my 32 hour journey despite boarding 4 flights. When I landed in Toledo, a van from the Office of International Student Services picked me up at the airport and took me and my stuff directly to Horton International House to stay there temporarily while looking for a home. It didn't go so smoothly over this 12 hour trip from Toledo to Carbondale.

I had arranged with one of my friends to take me to the bus stop to go to Chicago and from there to Carbondale (by train). I also needed his help to move some of the stuff that I couldn't take with me to Carbondale (like my bed, bookshelf and books). By some miscommunication, he had assumed that I no longer needed his help. And my calls and voice-messages remained unanswered (he called 2 days later to ask what's going on in Carbondale). The same happened when I tried to catch my other friends. Eventually, I resorted to one of my pastor friends who had offered to sell some of my stuff for me. I called to ask him to complete his kindness and move my stuff as well.

He's a conservative Southern Baptist pastor (a few years older than me). Doesn't it sound a bit odd for a conservative Shia Muslim being friend with such a pastor? Nothing should come out of a friendship between such 2 people, while one firmly preaches guaranteed salvation and the other one firmly disagrees (note: there's no reference to him in this post; what I've written is generally what I believe about this doctrine in general).

But seriously, he's a nice guy and does his best to help international students; in his own word, to show them the love of Jesus. This is a much more efficient way of evangelism than what some evangelicals try to do by simply pushing their pestering advertisement on people. I love this quote attributed to my favorite saint: "Preach the Gospel always and if necessary, use words". Even if this quote not be actually his, we have the same concept in early Islamic teachings: "Be preachers to people without using your tongues". Although my evangelical pastor friend has not stopped short at preaching just by actions; he's given me a Persian translation of the Bible (he seems to be well-resourced for various people).

Anyway, ardent and passionate as both of us are about our own beliefs, whenever we are together, we spend almost our entire time discussing (and sometimes debating) religion. And this time was no exception. And at times, he would be surprised to know about some theological views in Islam that sounded new to him; like when I told him that whenever our Prophet talks about Jesus, he refers to him as "my brother, Jesus".

And I made it clear that in Islamic theology, there isn't any conflict between different prophets; if there is a conflict, it is between people who call themselves followers of those prophets. And I explained to him that the verses I was referring from Quran about other prophets (Jesus included) were just that: verses of Quran, plain and simple, not a matter of interpretation by this denomination or that school of thought. And if any Muslim (or non-Muslim) is unaware about what is plainly written in the Book, that's simply their ignorance, not a matter of Islamic beliefs. I have written in more detail at the end of this post on so many religions.

Eventually, by the time we were about to leave each other, he concluded that "we tend to disagree, otherwise we would have been of the same religion" and we agreed that we have to wait for Jesus to come back and resolve all the misunderstandings. And yet, he offered to give me a ride to the bus stop if required. I declined, assuming I can catch my friend for my departure.

And it turned out that I couldn't get hold of my aforementioned friend and other friends the next day either and had to call him again at the last moment in despair. He was in a meeting in Maumee when I called him and eventually, he dispatched his wife to take me and my stuff to the bus stop. I've always tried to help people as much as I can. But this was too much even by my standards of kindness.

But the hardest part had yet to come in Chicago. There was nobody to help me there. I had to carry all those stuff from the bus stop to the Union Station. And it was a hot muggy afternoon even without carrying all those stuff. And to make it even worse, there were enough inconsiderate people who wouldn't give way to me and expected me to give way to them. And maneuvering in a busy narrow sidewalk around such people with all that luggage while two heavy backpacks and a shoulderbag are hanging from you is not an easy job. That short distance (about half a block) between the bus stop and the Union Station seemed like an eternity in hell. After feeling at home in the US for nearly 2 years, as described in my Adios Toledo post, I began to feel like a stranger in the worst place on earth.

Fortunately, when I would arrive in Carbondale late night, my hardship would be over. A friend of mine would pick me up at the Amtrak station and would take me and my stuff to my apartment (which I had already reserved). He has been very kind to me. Over my second trip to Carbondale in June (to look for apartments) he lent me his bike and I could get around the town and visit places.

While I was waiting in front of the Amtrak station, waiting for him, I could get a sense of my new hometown and what it means to be in Carbondale at Friday night; right across from me, there were bars with loud live rock music. Carbondale still has kept its bad reputation as a wild-party college town; although alcohol-inspired celebrations are not as wild and out of control as before. Read here for more.

My previous visits to Carbondale had somehow made me acquainted to my new hometown. As it was raining all day long over my first visit in December, I was confined to my hotel for most of my stay and was not able to see much of the city. And when my advisor took me directly to the Giant City State Park, I guess he did so because he'd probably figured out there wasn't much in the city to attract me. My second visit (which I spent entirely surveying the city and its neighborhoods looking for apartments) confirmed this. It appears that I have to get used to a few things.

When I landed in Toledo, although it looked like a village compared to Tehran, I managed to go beyond the negativism spread by some unhappy souls and began to appreciate the amenities available to me. But when I visited Carbondale, I realized that even if Toledo looked like a village compared to Tehran, it was definitely a paradise compared to this small town.

When I set out to explore the city, one of the students gave me some information and directions to find places around (including stores). At the end of my survey, she asked me about my opinion about the city. And I said, the only thing I like about Carbondale was Schnuck's (a grocery store chain similar to Giant Eagle in Ohio, though smaller, where I enjoyed shopping for grocery in Toledo).

No misunderstanding. I'm not one of those fans of size and glamor to appreciate a city. I've visited cities even smaller than Toledo and liked them even more, just because they looked more urban. And by that, I mean urban setting, not merely tall buildings and nice stores. I must feel like walking in a city. And I couldn't feel like that here.

Another thing that I have to get along with is the price of stuff in the state of Illinois. Over my first tour of Midwest, I got an impression about prices in this state. And over my second visit, I got a better picture. And I found that prices are way higher than Ohio. Everything. Even in a small town like Carbondale. And that you have to pay higher taxes here. And that you have to pay tax even for foodstuff. Most of my friends here are surprised when I tell them about no-food-tax in Ohio. Sometimes you take things for granted.

Just to give a glimpse, without making an extensive list. When my friend picked me up at the train station, I asked him to take me to Schnuck's to buy some foodstuff before taking me to my apartment. While we were walking around the produce section (my favorite in any store), he showed me the strawberries which were on sale for $2.50/pound and exclaimed: great price. I told him that in Toledo, I wouldn't even think about buying strawberries at anything over $2. The usual sale price was about $1.50 (and sometimes lower, as low as $1.20).

Or when we arrived at the dairy line, we saw half a gallon of milk for $2.50. And again, that was considered sale here. I told him that in Toledo, you can hardly find any store (except for convenience stores who sell everything at an inflated price) selling half a gallon of milk higher than $2 or so. That was the normal price of milk in Toledo. There, $2.50 is the sale price for a gallon.

And things at Wal-Mart or Kroger or other stores are not much better. Over my first days of shopping here, I visited almost all major stores here and looked at the prices of all items that I used to buy in Toledo. Everything is way higher. And there isn't even a Meijer (where you could get the best price for fruits and grocery, compared to all other stores in Toledo).

But these things are minor. After all, as a PhD student, I can manage my budget somehow easier compared to my time in Toledo. And this reminds me of my former advisor's joke about my downward social mobility, from a middle-class engineer to a poor-class student. Although I'm still a poor-class student, far behind how I used to live as an engineer in Iran, I've made some progress. As a PhD student, I've come a little bit over federal poverty line. That is some upward social mobility, albeit small.

There is something that sounds more difficult to get along with. As I've explained in my Adios Toledo post, people in Northern states are not necessarily as cold as their weather. At least, my experience in Toledo proved otherwise. And although we cannot have an ideal system, in a good system, signal-to-noise ratio is high enough to render the noise practically negligible. So, that somehow shattered one side of the North vs South myths. But maybe I have to reconsider the other side of the myth as well; i.e. Southerners are said to be a bunch of friendly warm people with whom you feel like old buddies immediately. Maybe not. Or maybe not necessarily in this part of the South.

Since I've landed here, I'm beginning to feel somehow self-conscious and stranger. And this after feeling at home in the US for nearly 2 years since my first day. There are many friendly people here as well (like any other place in the world). Over my short time here, I've seen people who come out of their way to help or guide me. But the number of unfriendly looks or attitudes is not negligible also. And it's not just about looks.

There was something that didn't take me long to notice after arriving in Toledo. And I quote it from that early post here: "People are or (at least) appear warm, even in a cold area like OH. Smiling (even if you don't mean it) is part of American culture. It's common for strangers to say hi to each other for no special reason. As somebody hailing from Shiraz, I find it pleasant. Maybe that's one of the reasons I feel at home here".

Well, it appears that saying hi for no specific reason is not as common here. And I'm not talking about strangers in the street (who used to greet you up there). I'm talking about store associates who are generally trained to greet customers (and Wal-Mart even asks you about that before you touch the LCD for confirmation of your credit-card payment). In this supposedly warm area, even returning a greeting sounds too much an effort to some people. Here, when you say hello to people, they would either stare at you or if they choose to say anything in reply, that would be something like "yes?" or "how can I help you?". And they don't even make an effort to appear friendly. And the number of such people, although not a majority, is not negligible.

Another thing that apparently is not a myth is paperwork. Long before coming to the US, I knew that one of the similarities between Iran and the US is their ultimate dedication to stalemate bureaucracy. I've written about that in the post: And Now, You're a Free Man. Whenever I went to any office, I felt myself still in Iran. But it appears that we have bad and worse. I'd heard about Southern bureaucracy. I got a chance to experience it in person here. Or maybe even before coming here.

When I accepted the admission offer from the University of Toledo in early 2006, I did nothing specific about that. I just informed my graduate director of my consent and then simply received my I-20 along with some other relevant papers in my mailbox sometime at the end of May (or maybe early June). They even sent me my Network ID and password. And I didn't even have my visa yet. But I could use all online resources as if I were one of their students in the US. My future personal experience with the grad school at UT would be far from perfect (something of that still-in-Iran feeling). But still, that was far better than here.

When I accepted the admission offer here at the end of April, I faced a myriad of fault-finding with my documents at various stages and in various intervals all over May and June. And I had faced none of these problems when I was applying to grad schools for the first time while I was still in Iran. Back then, I was under the impression that getting my Master's in the US and being in the US would ease some of the hurdles when I apply for my PhD. It appears that I was wrong. In 2008, after nearly having completed a graduate degree in a school in the US and being already in the US, the treatment I received by the grad school in Southern Illinois was not even the same as 2005. Whatever problem arising with my paperwork, the first reaction I received was something like: do this or you won't be admitted.

And when I landed in Carbondale in August, THREE months after I had accepted their admission and had called off all my other options to maintain my F-1 status (don't forget about my single-entry visa and all its pertinent problems), I got to know that my I-20 had not been issued yet. And that's while I had finished the paperwork for the transfer of my files from Toledo in July. And that's not all.

When I landed in Toledo, I had to go over a myriad of paperwork hurdles, with getting my SSN being the biggest headache of it all. And after 2 weeks, my paperwork was finished. Here, I even didn't need to go through SSN paperwork as I already had it. But still after 2 weeks, my Graduate Assistantship paperwork is not processed.

And now to the good stuff. As a cyclist, I had 2 pet-peeves in Toledo, abundance of roadkill and also broken glass. Here, I don't see that much of broken glass over sidewalks; although Illinois law prohibits grownup cyclists (like me) from riding in sidewalks. And the amount of roadkill is not as disgusting as in Toledo. I can see some squirrels here and there. But that 's about it. Oddly enough, most of the roadkill that I see are butterflies. Very nice butterflies. And also grasshoppers and locusts (I don't know how farmers do with these). And I wonder how these insects end up on the road and more so, how come they have such a higher casualty rate compared to squirrels.

Speaking of biking, there is something interesting about here. Over my second tour in June, I saw so many bike shops near downtown (if you can call that area downtown). That was surprising for a small town like this. And it gave me a hint that it must be a bike-friendly city.

Back in Toledo, everybody preferred to get around in their own cars. And that despite all the efforts that the City put into promoting biking as a green way of transportation. We had plenty of bike routes and trails. Toledo was more or less a bike-friendly city (at least its western parts). See this TMACOG page for more details. And people not only did not appreciate such amenities to save gas (and also to get in shape; obesity is a serious problem in Midwest), but also kept nagging about the money wasted on bike trails and routes. And people like me constituted an outstanding minority. Maybe that's why it occurred a lot to me to see police officers waving for me from within their cars.

But bike routes here are far from satisfactory. Haphazard I would say. You are driving on a bike route along a street were speed limit is 40 mph (or more) and suddenly you get a sweet surprise, a green sign telling you: Bike Route Ends. So what? What are you supposed to do? fly into the air on the spot? or veer into the sidewalk (which is prohibited under Illinois law)? Just like Toledo, there should be some provision to allow bicycles to ride on sidewalks wherever speed limit is 35 mph or higher; although cyclists should be courteous to pedestrians while riding on the sidewalk.

And interestingly, the city bike maps are as inconsistent as bike routes. For example, you see the entire US Route 51 marked as unsafe for bikes. That's while you have a very wide shoulder for bikes on parts of it. The shoulder is wide enough for 2 bikes to ride side by side, safely and easily. I would say a bike highway rather than just a bike shoulder.

And drivers are generally mindful for bikes. It's occurred to me time and again to reach a red light and stop. Still, drivers who have the right of way, wave for me to go on. Yet, there are some jerks who swish past bikes on the right lane. And sadly, such jerks appear to be mostly students (on campus or off-campus).

But anyway, Carbondale is a place for bikes. This could be seen clearly on campus by the huge number of bike-racks everywhere. And those bike-racks have got bikes on them. This may have a practical reason. The streets in (and around) campus are so badly designed and parking lots are so undercapacitated and scattered that it's a real pain in somewhere to have a car. Even with a bike, I find it a challenge to get around campus without taking shortcuts here and there. But anyway, it's good to be in a city where you are not part of a small minority as a cyclist.

Adios Toledo

This is officially my last day in Toledo (and broadly speaking, in Ohio). I filed a change of address with USPS. That means from today, my official address will no longer be in Ohio. Does it matter so much? Maybe.

When I landed after a 32 hour odyssey in my new hometown, apart from religious considerations explained in my first Ramadhan post, I felt at home since my first day. Really. I didn't have to try to feel so. I simply felt at home. And that despite the bias I'd been given before landing here (or even after that).

There are people who feel compelled to pass everything through their filter of negativism and cynicism. Most of the reviews I'd read about Toledo, projected it to be a boring depressing place that you have to endure for a while and want to run away from as soon as possible. And those gloomy views where not restricted to people who land from other states or countries in Glass City or Frog Town (or whatever nickname you want to give Toledo). Some native Toledoans join the chorus to spread the negative vibe to fellow citizens and guests alike. Maybe they feel disillusioned about a dream of "Toledo: Future City of the World". Read here, here and here for the history of Toledo, city profile, demographics and more.

And on top of all that, I had been told that people in Northern states are as cold as their weather and you cannot mix with them. I was already depressed (even before leaving Iran) by a feeling of imprisonment in the US on a single-entry visa. Having to endure it in such a place was too much. It didn't take me long to find that all those myths were just myths (well, except for the single-entry visa which is a bitter reality).

Early on, even when I was still in dorm looking for an apartment, I began my field research in churches. That would not only give me quite some insight as a sociologist, but also would alleviate my depression, being in the house of God among people who believe in God.

And after a short while, whenever people asked me how I felt here (and by here, they meant Toledo or the US in general), I realized that my instinctive reply was simply "I feel at home". And I didn't fake it as a compliment just to make them happy. That was how I really felt. That was the first thing that naturally came to my mind as an honest reply. Sometimes, some people (probably those who felt discontented about their life in their supposedly boring city) would give me a questioning look, finding it odd for an alien to feel at home in the US (or their city) just after a short time.

I would emphasize that I really felt at home and that my only major problem was the single-entry visa issued to Iranians. And when they realized what a single-entry visa meant, depriving me of my right to visit my family in Iran for the entire duration of my study (whatever it takes), they would be surprised of how their government could impose such an inhumane discriminatory policy on Iranian students. Well, we have the option of visiting Iran and going through the unpredictable visa application process all over again from scratch, risking a visa rejection for no specific reason and hence leaving our study unfinished. It has actually happened to some unlucky Iranian students.

But apart from being an academical prisoner, I really enjoyed my time. True, Toledo may not look like an ideal place for living. Compared to Tehran where I've lived almost all my life (and I resented that jungle of high rise buildings and crammed traffic all the time), Toledo is more like a village. Not just because the city doesn't look like a city and lacks urban structure and setting. Public transportation is virtually non-existent. And other urban services are not very nice. Even mid-size cities in Iran fare better. While in Tehran, it rarely occurred to me that I needed a car. I used my bike for recreation only.

Here, incapable of buying a car, I had to rely on my bike for everything. For transportation and for shopping. In snowy freezing winters and in hot muggy summers. Specifically, for my dental appointments at the Dental Center of Northwest Ohio, I had to ride my bike all the way downtown (sometimes amid windchill or snow or both). The bus system is totally unreliable here. Sometimes I would look back while riding and I could never spot a bus catching up behind me, even until I reached downtown. And that was while I couldn't ride very fast because of the wind or snow. And then, I would realize it had been a wise decision not to wait for the bus. Once, I waited for the bus on my way back to school and the bus didn't show up after half an hour and I had to ride my bike all the way back (other people didn't have the luxury of a bike and had to wait in the cold).

If you have a car, Toledo has basic amenities to enjoy your life with your family at an affordable price and raise your children in a pretty safe environment. And even if you don't have a car, there are many bike routes and trails around and at least students (or people living around campus and western parts of the city) can easily and safely get around with a bike. I used the University/Parks Trail to do my weekly shoppings and I not only saved money, but also enjoyed beautiful scenery of the Oak Opening Region. Click on this TMACOG page for bike maps, resources and more info.

And although there are many streets in Toledo where speed limits make it unsafe for bikes, Ohio Revised Code (clause 4511.711) does not prohibit bicycles from sidewalks and Toledo Municipal Code (clause 373.12) still allows for bicycles to ride on sidewalks wherever speed limit is 35 mph or higher. Well, maybe some people are unhappy about such allowances.

One of the major problems we have in this country is alcohol. And when people get overly happy with their booze, they feel like maximizing their merriment by smashing the bottle on the sidewalk. Maneuvering my bike through shards of glass was one of the challenges I faced in streets where speed limits forced me to use sidewalks. I don't want to sound cynic or paranoid, but I've observed a consistent pattern of glass decorated sidewalks over such streets and sometimes even over the bike lanes. Hey alcoholics, that's really mean.

Another pet peeve I had as a cyclist (and an animal lover) was the abundance of roadkill all over the city. Just like cats in Iran, squirrels here have a bad habit of waiting till the last moment to dart into the street. While I was in Iran, I had developed a technique which I referred to as cat-scare method (I love cats very much and hitting a cat is the last thing I want). Whenever I saw a cat ready to jump into the street (and in front of my bike), I would veer right toward it to make it back off to the safety of the sidewalk. And it worked most of the time.

As I'm not an expert on squirrels, I've rarely used my method on them. They're more volatile and unpredictable than cats. In one instance, I managed to dodge a suicidal squirrel who was jumping up and down to sprint into the street, but it was not lucky enough and the car overtaking me on my left hit it square, flung it into air and it landed on the ground motionless. Quite a nasty scene. I wish I could have tried my cat-scare method.

And it's not limited to squirrels. I've seen carcasses of rabbits, raccoons, badgers and sometimes even turtles or birds. And apparently, nobody assumes responsibility to remove them. City officials believe those stuff don't cause traffic problems and health officials don't consider them to be serious health hazard. In one instance, I remember a flattened squirrel remaining on Secor Rd all over winter, spring and summer.

Still, Toledo (and Northwest Ohio) has many things to enjoy, even if you don't have a car. The glass for the Glass City is more than half-full (and don't forget that I come from Tehran which is bigger than Chicago). Toledo may lack tall buildings and places like Michigan Avenue (and I guess such things are the main cause of envy for the people yearning for Chicago), but it has many things for anybody.

If you love nature (like me), you've got many nice metroparks in and around the city. And the Toledo Zoo is among the best in the nation (and they have web-cams too). And the zoo is free to Lucas County residents (showing State ID or Driver's License). If you're into arts, there's a great Museum of Art, an active Symphony Orchestra and also lots of concerts all around the city all over the year. If you're into reading, there's the nationally acclaimed Toledo Lucas County Public Library with its wide network and rich programs. If you're looking for amusement (adrenaline-releasing type), Cedar Point has been among the top-ten amusement parks in the world for several years. If you love dining and fine cuisine, there are all sorts of restaurants around (not many providing Halal food however). If you are into having fun (the sort that I don't approve), you've got lots of bars with booze and live music (and even night-clubs if you are into not-so-moral ways of having fun). If you want to show your patriotism by way of consumerism, there are decent shopping malls. Even for normal shopping, there are numerous branches of all major national and regional chains.

True, almost none of these are comparable to Chicago (which seems to be the utopia/paradise for those unhappy nagging souls). But if all people were to live in Chicago or those few cities with such luxuries, that would render them as unlivable as Tehran with its 12 million people (or more) and over 2 million cars crawling in its busy streets and highways. And these nagging people tend to overlook the stress of life in big cities and also higher living expenses; the price for everything here is low even compared to smaller towns in other states that I've visited.

All this should not mean that I had a completely rosy-shiny-fluffy experience. Here, just like anywhere, you can have some encounters with stupid, bigot, xenophobic people (or a combination of these). I remember when I had gone on a biking expedition into Henry County (to the Southwest of Lucas County, where Toledo is located). I was hanging around Mary Jane Thurston State Park and I could easily feel the unfriendly looks of some visitors. I will never forget the frightened wide-eyed gaze of a teenager who was probably thinking this bearded terrorist might blow off their park with his bulgy backpack stuffed with nuclear weapons. And the reactions I have received over my biking tours have sometimes been more than a frightened gaze by a poor ignorant teenager.

One night while I was riding my bike home from Meijer, I was pulled over by an Ottawa Hills police officer nearly a block from my home. Ottawa Hills is an affluent neighborhood adjacent to UT (and also very close to my home). They have their own police department and their police officers have made themselves a reputation of being mean (like lurking in the dark to issue tickets or pulling over people for no reason). So, I was not totally surprised for being pulled over. But the treatment I received was not something I’m used to. I had helmet, light, reflectors, wore a bright fluorescent colored shirt and was driving very carefully at a steady speed of less than 10 mph on the right lane (with all those grocery stuff hanging from my back, I couldn't have ridden faster even if I wanted).

I produced my Rocket ID card and was asked about my SSN. The police officer radioed my SSN and verified my identity. Still, I was asked questions like "where is your home", "why do you shop at Meijer at this hour", "what have you bought at Meijer", "let me see your shopping", etc (I hardly resisted the temptation to retort “would you like to see my receipts?” but I thought better of it).

After a few other stupid questions, the police officer finally gave up and in order not to make me feel totally innocent, advised me to buy an official light, something as bright as her big police flashlight (that illuminated all the way to the end of that street). I told her that I could clearly see my way with my light at that low speed and other people could see me as well. She didn't budge and insisted on an official light (if that was the real reason for stopping me, I guess I should have been told about it first, not at the end, after all those irrelevant questions). And then, she ordered me to go home, without even bothering to apologize. It was so kind of her! If I had not been stopped, I’d had been already at home, putting things in my fridge.

I guess simply seeing those nearly transparent Meijer plastic bags hanging from my back would had been enough evidence that I was really on my way back home from shopping at Meijer. And after checking my SSN with the station, it should had become clear that there was nothing wrong on my record and I was really who my student ID showed me to be. But being asked stupid questions or being told “put your hands where I can see them” sounded too much. Probably, letting me go simply after asking the first basic questions, must have been too hurtful to her ego.

I understand that we must cooperate with law enforcement officers who are doing their job and I completely complied. However, as a graduate student, I found it very embarrassing to be treated and talked to like a criminal or to be pulled over for no reason in the first place. I contacted UT Police Department Chief and complained about my encounter. He told me he would forward my Email to Ottawa Hills Police Department Chief. Nothing happened after that and my follow-up amounted to nothing.

I'm kinda used to the vast anti-Islamic propaganda of this ongoing War of Terror. But still, I sometimes feel dumbfounded by the abundance of ignorance and stupidity imposed on this great nation. The lords of this war on terrah, have sown terror into the hearts of American people, an accomplishment that could have been hardly achieved by some isolated mountaineer cavemen if they were to do it on their own.

But still, such sporadic unfriendly encounters wouldn't change my opinion about Toledo (and Northwest Ohio in general). Speaking in my old technical language, in a good system (maybe not ideal one though) signal-to-noise ratio is high enough to render the noise practically negligible. And it's impossible to have an ideal system, completely free of noise. You can just try to reduce or ignore the noise (stupidity or stupid people). And I have had my fair share of friendly encounters to feel at home.

Specifically, I must express my gratitude toward my professors at the Sociology Department of the University of Toledo. Most of them did their best not only to make me feel at home in a new environment cast away from my family by a single-entry visa, but also to make my transition from engineering to a different discipline (after being away from academia for such a long time) as smooth as possible. Especially, I must mention my Palestinian advisor and also one of my Jewish professors who surpassed stupid stereotypes (I must admit that I was somehow paranoid about working under a Jewish professor, given the widespread influence of Zionism in the US; although I've had a Jewish friend since my undergrad years in Iran and although I knew well enough that Zionists constitute a minority of Jews, but anyway).

And as a sociologist, one of the things that I'm already missing about Toledo is the variety and number of churches in this city. I regret that there are many many churches that I didn't find time to visit. You can find several places of worship for any religion and faith. If you want to conduct a field research on religious diversity and religion and cannot afford to live in Chicago or New York, Toledo could be an excellent alternative. You can find churches from the very far end of the spectrum to the other, from conservatism to liberalism.

And the same is true about Ohio. It's neither a very conservative nor a very liberal state. It's somewhere in between. And as a moderate conservative, I love it. There are many other things I love about the Buckeye state. But speaking of religion, there is one thing I love the most about Ohio; the state motto: With God, all things are possible.

Multifaith picnic

After attending the panel on Prayer in America, I was talking to Dr Woody Trautman, one of the executive board members of Multifaith Council of Northwest Ohio. I mentioned about my blog and my posts on their events, including their Multifaith Thanksgiving last year.

Then, I received an Email from him, applauding my insight and clarity of expression and expressing his sorrow that I didn't know of and attend their multifaith banquet on March 19 and therefore be able to compose a summary blog (I'm sorry too for missing such an interesting multifaith event, but that week was one of the worst weeks of my overcrammed semester). Then, he proceeded to invite me to their multifaith picnic.

Today, the picnic-content of my blood was high after attending our GSA picnic yesterday, but I felt like going on a second picnic in a row. Well, I love multifaith events and I always enjoy picnics (especially, in the countryside that I knew from my last summer biking expeditions; have a look at the photos in their flyer). The combination of these things was hard to resist. And as these days are probably my last days in Toledo, I take any opportunity to enjoy my time here with people I like. Here we go.

I arrived in there with my bike (he'd kindly offered to arrange for my transportation, but a big part of my fun over such events is the biking). We were told to sign-in and choose a name-tag. There was something more about their name-tags; they were not completely blank. One of the objectives of this picnic was conservancy (the wind-turbine in the farm should give an idea). We were to choose from a variety of themed name-tags marked with energy, recycling, water-bottles, waste-water, etc.

It appears that I'm incorrigible as a former electrical engineer. After contemplating for a while, I chose the energy name-tag and wrote my name. So, after making such a big switch and studying a Master's program in Sociology, I still identify myself with my long-term career (I still subscribe to PC magazine and their weekly newsletter). I hope my nostalgia about engineering, powerplants, control systems, networks, etc. subsides after finishing my PhD in Sociology (though I doubt it).

And my strong identification with my former life is not limited just to a name-tag. Whenever I visit churches and happen to bump into an electrical engineer, I feel ecstatic. First, it was Pastor Habrecht at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church. Then, it was over this year's Interfaith Blood Drive when I discovered that Dr Trautman has got his PhD in electrical engineering from Stanford (and still, he prefers to be simply called Woody). And even today, while I was enjoying the hay-ride, sitting next to a senior fellow with his energy-themed name-tag, I found that he was a retired electrical engineer. And then, our chatting drifted into electrical engineering and then I had to explain about my big switch (engineers and non-engineers alike are surprised about my switch, though it's not such a big deal or big switch to me).

No misunderstanding. I've never been one of those guys who identify themselves with their degree (or other worldly affiliations for that matter). Actually, I hate such superficial shallow people. And I didn't like it when my father (purposefully) teased me over recent years, addressing me by my title instead of my name.

It's just that when you get dirty with something for a long time, you can hardly detach yourself from that. And electrical engineers are generally very passionate about their profession. And sometimes, it even shows in our conversations among ourselves (using technical terms even in our non-technical chats; control system guys are the worst in this respect). Or maybe it's a problem with Generation Y (I'm Generation X though). That could be an interesting research topic for sociologists.

After getting off the tractor-pulled-hay-cart, I got a sweet surprise. They were playing from the loudspeaker (loudspeakers in a countryside picnic at a barn?) one of my favorite songs. And the song was a Persian classical one. That happens when you have a Sufi host (Judy Trautman). Just imagine how I felt hearing that song in an American picnic after being cast-away for a long time from my great collection of classical music (Persian and Western) back in Iran. Although I do not like the singer in person, I enjoy his songs, which are mostly classical with mystic themes and poems. This particular song remained a big hit in Iran for quite some time after he released the album early 1980s. To hear the song (Darse Sahar), click on the headphone icon here or simply click on Dars-e Sahar on this page.

And it appears that I was not the only one fascinated. That was true even with Americans who didn't understand the Persian poem (and I really couldn't translate those difficult words with my current command of English). That's sans-frontier language of music, enchanting all people. Well, except for our announcer guy who found it the best time for his announcements right in the middle of this song. Classical music (Persian or Western) flows best into your soul in a continuum, not something you interrupt once in a while and then catch on. Later on, I asked Judy for a replay and again our announcer cut in.

All in all, I enjoyed my day with interesting people in a very pleasant setting. And I had an opportunity (after such a long time) to watch some sheep, horses and a mule grazing, or to listen to the contented sound of hens enjoying their share of watermelon. But I doubt the swallows enjoyed it all the same way while we invaders from town made so much noise in their barn.

Patriotism and Revolutionary Sale

Last year, when I observed my first Independence Day in America, it was more or less an apologetic narration and experience as I spent most of my time on the lands usurped from its rightful inhabitants (Indians). And at the end of the day, I felt somehow guilty. This year, I was thinking about spending my second (and probably last) Independence Day in Toledo in a more American way. Looking at the table of events for in the area, I chose Centennial Terrace.

When I was a kid, one of the things in American culture that I found very American was drive-in theater. And I always wanted to experience it in person. Not that I found it personally very exciting to sit in a car and watch a movie; as always, the sociologist inside me was interested in the atmosphere. However, my childhood years saw the increasing popularity of TV and VCR and I knew that by the time I grow old enough to go to the US, drive-in theaters would be history. And it appears that I was right.

I have to admit that despite growing up with the advent of modern digital technology (and having spent the second half of my life on it), I'm a very old-fashioned guy; I still wish I had been born 20 years earlier to be involved personally with technological (and non-technical) revolutions of 1960s and 1970s as an adult (not a kid).

Even as an engineer, I wish I could have started my computing experience with mainframes; I started computer programming in 1986 with Commodore 64 (I got the chance to play a little with some IBM mainframes for my FORTRAN programming language course in college, but that's reliving the past, not an original experience). And although I've been an engineer for a long time (and trivially obsessed with efficiency), I still prefer old cars to new models (which all look the same and lack the individual identity of the oldies).

Anyway, watching the fireworks at Centennial Terrace would provide me with an opportunity to experience an atmosphere somehow similar to good ole drive-in theaters. It also meant 10.5 miles of biking to reach Centennial Terrace, most of it on the country-side (although I was a little bit apprehensive about drivers who celebrate this holy night with booze).

I arrived there almost in time (10 pm) and found the best vintage point right on the crossing of Centennial and Erie. And it turned out to be a good place; they fired the mortars exactly in this direction. People had been advised to bring in their lawn-chairs. I didn't have one, but I found a better solution; instead of straining and bending my neck toward the sky, I lied down flat on the grass. This would let me relax my muscles after 10.5 miles of fast biking and I could watch the screen more comfortably.

However, at the end, when it came to the crescendo finale, I had to sit up alarmed. Although they had put barricades and I was supposedly within the safety margin, the last round of mortars were fired in a very closed angle toward us and having learned from my experience last year, I could anticipate some falling cinders and debris. But it was more than that. Some burning stuff landed just meters ahead of my feet. And they were more than just cinders; they looked the size of full flares. If landed on somebody's clothes, it would had been really difficult to extinguish these burning phosphorous stuff. And that could have been the difference between a memorable night and ending up in ER with serious burns.

While I was lying down enjoying the scene, two guys sat right above my head and they were very excited to shout their expert commentaries about the fireworks and the size of those mortar shells. From time to time, they would exclaim over the deafening sound of the fireworks: "fifteen-pounder", "twenty-pounder", "twenty-five-pounder" and at the end, "THIRTY POUNDER". I thought they must be firework maniacs; they turned out to be pizza vendors. Medium pizza boxes for 5 bucks. Nobody was interested in their stuff, except for the dogs who sniffed longingly while their owners tried to keep them away from those yummies. Poor dogs.

One of the major things that I was keen to observe in this nearly drive-in theater experience, was the amount of cars. With hiking gas prices that wouldn't relent even with gas prayers, I was curious to see how many people would show their patriotism and would drive their gas-guzzling cars to the event. I was not disappointed. Country roads that would see sparse cars over normal days were jammed with cars.

And this would put a heavy burden on numerous police officers who had to handle the traffic before and after the event. I was impressed with how they did their job, which at times looked daunting. They had to direct so many cars going in different ways late at night and in the meantime, trying to keep calm with some unbehaving drivers. Just stand for a few minutes at a jammed crossing on a holiday night like this, with some overdrunk drivers honking and shouting and you'll understand what I mean. Later on, I heard in the news that July 4th is the second fatal day of the year when it comes to casualties as a result of DUI (July 4th endures the highest number of car accidents in the year). We generally tend to take for granted the service that police officers offer us.

On my way back, I biked around historic downtown Sylvania. And unlike my tour around downtown Maumee last year, I found it desolated, more or less like a ghost city for such a night. Last year, all bars around downtown Maumee were overpacked with people celebrating the birthday of the USA with rock or country music and of course, booze. It was funny to see underage kids trying to sneak in. Although I was old enough to go in (as one of the doormen mentioned and invited me in), religious restrictions forced me to make my sociological observations from outside (we Muslims are not allowed to sit or stand in a place where alcohol is served).

Speaking of patriotism, as I had decided to behave like a common true American this year, I ended my night with some shopping. Well, maybe not completely a true American. Although businesses and stores inundate people with patriotic advertisements for their unbelievable sales over these days, I'm hardly fooled into buying things that I really don't need, just because they're on sale. There was one particular commercial, advertising for their revolutionary sales of home furniture without any interest over four years. As an anti-consumerist however, I restricted my show of patriotism to foodstuff sales.