When emotions roar in public

Ever so often I find myself impressed by people who speak up and bother to argue, discuss, dispute and otherwise make their point of view come across and be heard. I hardly ever do that, simply because I am not very good at talking. In addition, I am terrible at remembering numbers and dates. Oh, I remember the incidents and stories, but I often feel my own credibility is harmed by the lack of precise facts.

There are many people who seem to have strong opinions on causes they feel are unjust. Often I admire the involvement, but fail to see the logic or the knowledge which is put to ground for their point of view. Not that I am the sharpest knife in the drawer and know it all, but I do listen to what people say, and I do observe their actions.

We have many causes and situations which call for humanitarian support and change for the better. The list on unjust and cruelty happening around the world is almost never ending. So many to choose from, and yet I can’t think of any other trouble, conflict, war or unjust which rises even remotely as strong emotions as the conflict in the Middle East. We had a brief storm of "Bring back our girls", which is really terrible, and still an ongoing situation, but strange as it may seem: no other conflict makes people involved to the same degree as the Middle East. 

Pop superstar Rihanna posted a "#FreePalestine" tweet two weeks ago, but quickly deleted the post just eight minutes later, replacing it with the more neutral "Let's pray for peace and a swift end to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict! Is there any hope?..." I can only imagine how her manager broke a sweat and stirred up frantic activity for a split minute there.

Yesterday, on July 28, One Direction singer Zayn Malik tweeted “#Free Palestine”. His tweet garnered over 190,000 favourites, 190,000 re-tweets and hundreds of responses from fans ranging from support to disappointment to death threats.

It has become more of a fashionable thing to do to announce support like this, but I don't think they understand how they continuously stir up strong emotions. Emotions which by the blink of an eye turn into hateful attacks when those who reply run out of good points. Recently we have also seen how demonstrations around the world, initially peaceful and a great way to demonstrate freedom of speech, escalate into violent street fights. Leaving behind hurt and ruins. And a lot of those who get affected don’t even know why, or for what reason.

I am not convinced it is genuine interest or knowledge behind the slogans, the “like and share”, the supportive sms’es or the demonstrations. But I find it really hard to understand what kind of agenda a tweet like the one posted by these two artists has. It’s not like as if it’s a secret that sticking your neck out is a risky thing to do. And any uttering containing “Israel” or “Palestine” these days is a sure way to get swept up and carried away in a storm of bad breath, spitting, fuming and four-letter wordings.

I was determined not to express my opinion on the Middle East situation. I was determined to stay coward and let others flog each other with harsh words. I managed to keep my thoughts to myself for maybe a couple of days.

I strongly believe that words have a meaning; that they lead to thoughts and actions. The last few weeks have proven my belief truthful.

When I was a student, we were taught at school that everything in the newspapers is the truth. The truth is the main purpose of a newspaper, because it sets today’s agenda. That’s why it’s called the 4th branch of government. Whatever the media writes or talks about is topics we include in our everyday interaction with one another. We pick up the talk of today, and we talk the talk and get engaged. Some times we even walk the talk.

A couple of days ago one of Norway’s most prominent foreign reporters, at an event in Trondheim, was asked by a dean if he believes in justice. The reporter answered “no”. He explained by saying that I do not believe we are capable to make this world fair. There is too much evil. My task is to tell about the innocent ones who suffer. There is no such thing as objective journalism.

I do wish I didn’t, but to a large extent I agree. Not only is it a challenge to choose the right words, but there is also such a thing as “who’s truth is the most true”. I sincerely hope it isn’t the number of viewers, readers or print copies which determines which topics, and how, they are presented to the masses. Don’t get me wrong: I see the possibilities a certain angle has to create sensational headlines, which sell and thereby increase profit and secure the source of information a future. But… that would be too much like running a newspaper for the sole reason to keep journalists in work. Something which would be just stupid, right?

So why is the Middle East so important? What is it about this tiny spot on the face of the earth, which causes normally peaceful and calm people to express hatred towards people they don’t know? I have to say I don’t really know, but I do know that many make up their mind about which side they sympathize with, without really knowing what the conflict is really about. Strong feelings are stirred to such a degree it seems like they use the cause as an excuse to be abusive towards one another.

About two years ago, I wrote a blog posting I called “How To Speak Up”. I chose to write about a clip I found on youtube, which really and profoundly disturbed me. We also have women like Malala Yousafzai, the brave young Pakistani girl who fought for the right to be educated and nearly lost her life for the cause. She was shot in the head while riding the bus home from school. When she was well enough, she kept on fighting her battle. Being brave and never tried to be bigger by putting others down.

I live such a comfortable life it is hard to imagine what it is like to live a life permeated with danger and total comprehensive fear. I am not so sure that I would do what I constantly claim I would do: never to let threats and random violence put any restrictions on my everyday life and lifestyle, simply because that would mean the wrong side won.

I have the utmost respect for those who write well enough and talk well enough to feel they present their point of view in respectful manners. Much like this 18-year old, who argues by using his knowledge rather than abusive language and violence. 

I am afraid this article, “Top Secret Hamas Command Bunker in Gaza Revealed And why reporters won’t talk about it”, holds a lot of truth, the kind of truth which is true regardless of which angle you see the case from. It says that: “It might be hard to believe the Israelis, the simple logic might run, since they obviously have an investment in arguing that Hamas is using hospitals and schools as human shields”.  Meaning that if we disagree to begin with, any argument made by the other side, will be questioned and regarded as speculative, simply because by saying it they build their own case. And if you do that, you have an vicarious reason to say what you say, so you lose your credibility either way.

Yeah, I know, and it is so annoying: It is confusing and frustrating. Truth and the way we see the world may not be what we have decided it should be. Reason plays no part anymore, at least not to the same degree it did before.

I think that a lot of women have said quite a few really smart things about the conflict. Like Hillary Clinton, on The Daily Show.
But I think Douglas Murray says it very well too:

Douglas Murray on bigoted global anti Israel animosity

Vacation and shoes and stuff...

Vacation, Southern Mediterrean country... it is equivalent to long and lazy mornings with breakfast eaten outside in comfortable calm. Birds twittering, happy children laughing, the odd chair scraping against the tiled floor.
Coffee, freshly made juice, toast, scrambled eggs and lots of sweet pepper, tomatoes and cucumbers. Maybe even a newspaper in old fashioned paper edition, in a language I can understand, just to top it off. Oh, joy! That is the kind of vacation I deep down inside feel I deserve.
It`s not quite like that, though.

This year we chose to rent an apartment in Spain, on Costa del Sol. I give them that: They are real careful not to lie in the commercials: The beach stretches for kilometres on kilometres, it is just simply gorgeous and packed with people sunbathing, but noone swims or plays in the ocean. Maybe not that strange considering the water holds about the same temperature as it does at home. The Atlantic Ocean is close by and it is cold.
The temperature of the water is not mentioned anywhere! Neither when mentioning the ocean, nor the waterparks... both heated by the sun alone, and cooled off by the wind. It never crossed my mind it would be an issue. We love to swim and play in the water, but I have to admit there have been moments when even I regret getting in.
We went on vacation to Costa del Sol, the sunny coast, and the enticing, cheerful sound of that alone, made every logical and sensible thought about actual temperatures on land or in sea just shortcut. And then the first day here we had rain, thunder and lightening. Honest! I was just stunned in disbelief when I woke up and went outside on the terrace to have a mug of coffee... it was like as if I moved on an autopilot, not noticing anything, untill I stood there, in the rain, getting wet.

I left my running shoes at home. One of these halfways consious desitions I sometimes make.
The only shoes I brought are my sandals, a pair of high heeled sandals (which happen to be my very best pair of shoes: beautiful on, excellent quality and wearing them is like walking on clouds), and a pair of ballerina shoes in case of a shoe emergency.
But my running shoes are at home. They are blooming in stark pink calm and quiet at home. Probably on the hallway floor. I call them running shoes, because that is what they were intended for, but people who know me know I never run.

Last year we went to Turkey on an all-inclusive trip to Side. It was really hot, so we had nothing to do all day other than play and swim in the pool and eat and drink. After only a little while by the pool, my husband began to act restless.

Now, most people (normal people that is) in warmer countries, who like to think they are fit, get up early before the sun really starts to burn, and do their workout in comfortable temperature.
Not my husband. My husband likes to sleep a few hours more than me, which is fine, really. Not many can cope with three hours sleep. He gets up when he feels he is rested.

In Turkey we soon established a routine: We had a late breakfast, calmed down, splashed about in the pool... and then my husband started getting really restless, before he just wandered off and left. He was gone for a good hour, and then came back; soaking wet, drinking coke and looking really smug and content: He had jogged around the estate.

This year it all started very innocent. When you are staying somewhere you should be oriented about your whereabouts and where to find what. We told the kids we'd be right back, and left... just to explore the nearby environment, I thought... yes, I am still that naive.

Since I aspire to the ambitions of calling myself a fit woman in my prime (I just love these obvious, beautiful lies), I started my endomondo just outside the door.

- Why the big deal with endomondo?
- I like to keep track of where I go, how far, when, if I walk faster next time... you know; just because...
- Who do you keep the records for then? I can hear the badly hidden skepticism in his voice. He has doubts if his wife has started publishing the tales of a happy ever after, perfect life in pure family idyll.
- No, it's just me; I like to see progress, if there's any. I really, really need motivation, and my endomondo sportstracker app is really and truly helping
The fact that online friends have found my account, and that I add pictures from the walks, is to me totally uninteresting knowledge for him.

The very first day we wandered off, and got back an hour later. We had then walked about 1.6 km uphill (oh yes, we found a road leading us uphill) and down. A total of 3.2 km.
A week later we are gone for a couple of hours, walking more than 9 km. Still uphill... before going downhill again.
I do not intend to ask him if he does it to make me lose weight unconsciously, or if he just enjoys my company. Either way we thrive on our walkes, even though I gasp for air and sulk over my hurting ancles. (Of course I never ask him if he loves our walks, away from our demanding kids, just as much as I do.)

I don't know much about slopes, other than the fact they are steep, but there was a sign saying 10%. I don't know what that is 10% of, but I know it is supposed to be steep. The cars driving pass us struggled with their gear, speed and acceleration, and those riding bikes (all two of them) came almost to a halt, no matter how frantically they paddled.

Since I didn't bring my running shoes, I walked in my sandals. Beautiful, soft, comfortable, real leather sandals. They look great, but noone in their right mind would even consider walking up a mountain in them. It turned into a thing for me, a gimmick, to walk the walk in them. Like a quiet protest against pro equipment for amateurs.
In pure sympathy my husband wandered next to me, on bad asphalt, in his sandals.

Back in the apartment we have a fruit salad, a cup of coffee, before he casually makes his exit: "Eh... I just go for a quick run." He ties on his running shoes, and runs the route we just walked.

Yesterday we went to Ronda. A lovely mountain town in the Andalucian mountains (no, we didn't walk, we drove the car there).
My husband got me a lovely pair of tracking sandals... today my husband both walked, then later on ran, in his running shoes.