The Great Thanksgiving Melon Pumpkin Adventure-how I saved Thanksgiving

This week there have been two recurring themes in Emily's and my lives: Thanksgiving is ruined or Thanksgiving is saved! Can't find pumpkin pie filling...Thanksgiving is ruined. Find pumpkins...Thanksgiving is saved! No canned green beans...ruined. Frozen broccoli...saved! Burned rolls...ruined. Successful pies made in glass bowls instead of pie pans...saved!

This week has certainly been a shopping adventure for us. We hoped to find pumpkin pie filling in cans somewhere in Beirut, but we lucked out. Still, we did find a beautiful pumpkin that I'll tell you about later. Since last year I'd had to use a real pumpkin, I wasn't too worried about doing again this year. Dreading it, yes, because it is a lot of work, but now I knew it would be ok. Also, I was greatly cheered by the presence of Hello Panda in the grocery store.

Probably our biggest shopping adventure was the saga of the Turkey. Naturally, we assumed that the butcher area at our local grocery store would sell turkeys. And when I asked him for turkey, he had it available. He politely asked how many slices we wanted. When I told him we wanted a whole turkey, he looked confused for a brief moment, and then brightened up and offered us the whole package of processed turkey sandwich meat. No, we said, we want a whole one...we shaped a turkey carcass with our hands in the air to make our point. He smiled and brought out a package that we thought must be what we wanted. Emily noted that you could see the legs in the shape of the package. I agreed that it looked right, but I felt vaguely suspicious of it. I told the guy that I thought that was right, but I wanted to feel it first. He looked at me with concern, but handed it over. To test it, I gave it a little squeeze. It squished. Obviously not what we wanted. We explained that we wanted to put it in the oven. The butcher shook his head sadly and offered us a whole chicken instead. We were on the point of accepting it when the butcher's assistant motioned for us to follow him. He took us out to the frozen vegetable section where they had a wide selection of ridiculously over-priced butterball turkeys! Thanksgiving was saved!!

Later that night we got out the pumpkin purchased earlier in Beirut. Emily put on Avonlea, so that we could enjoy old TV shows and marvel at the abilities of Canadian child actresses. Then we went to work. OK, I have to confess, I allowed Emily to do most of the work. I mean, if she's willing, why not? Soon, though, we noticed something a bit odd about our beautiful pumpkin. First, it smelled like a melon and second, it was greenish inside. Scott began to insist that we'd gotten some weird hybrid pumpkin-melon hybrid. He hinted that he would never have made the same mistake (although we had earlier given him the opportunity to go out and buy them for us and he had declined). We worried that it wouldn't work for our pie and bread, but chopped away anyway. We decided to risk it, and amazingly I can testify that the bread and pie were successful. There were some lumps, but that was because we didn't cook it long enough and we had to beat it out by hand because we have no blender. I actually had to sift through the pumpkin pie batter with my fingers to find the biggest lumps. (I didn't tell you that before, Emily, but don't worry-my hands were clean.)

Meanwhile, Emily decided to prove to the world that she is capable of cooking EVERYTHING required for a complete Thanksgiving feast by herself. I mean, it's possible that I could be expected to chip in a bit, but really she knows that the kitchen isn't exactly my happy place. I agreed to sit in there with her and chop and stir, which I did. (Yet another example of me saving Thanksgiving.) She made broccoli casserole, corn casserole, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, pineapple salad, green bean casserole, crescent rolls, dressing, and turkey. Also pecan pie with no corn syrup. It was all amazing-mostly because she did it all herself. I tried to help out by offering to let her use instant mashed potato stuff that I have at my house from its previous owner. But when I mentioned this, Emily looked at me like I'd suggested to let her roast up her cat instead of getting a turkey.

So in all, it was a successful Thanksgiving. We ate until we were very full and then laid around on the couch watching stupid things on TV. I'll put up photos on facebook soon. Those photos will include the ones we took when decorating the house for Christmas as well. That was also an exciting time involving stringing popcorn, making snowflakes and homemade clay ornaments. I think I'm going to get a job with Hallmark selling a new line of Christmas ornaments entitled: random animals eating Santa Claus. So far we have a crocodile and a whale eating up the old fat guy. We'll do some market research to decide which animal is next for the collection. Precious Moments? What is that crap?

Hello Panda!

"Hello Panda is a brand of Japanese biscuits (cookies), manufactured by Meiji Seika. Each biscuit consists of a small hollow shortbread layer, filled with either vanilla, strawberry, peanut butter or chocolate filling; chocolate is the most commonly available variety. Recently a yellow-boxed version containing the biscuits with a chocolate shell (instead of the usual shortbread) was released.
It was first released in Japan during the Summer of 1979. Printed on the biscuits are cartoon style depictions of giant pandas; presumably this is where the product derives its name.
Hello Panda was originally baked in Japan by Meiji Seika, but production later began in Singapore, Philippines and Indonesia.^[1] The Singapore bakery facilities started producing other Meiji products in 1974. The biscuits are exported to most developed countries, such as the United States.
The biscuits are commonly sold in a tall, hexagonal box with 2 oz or 57.5 g. In some countries, Hello Panda biscuits are available in small 21 and 35g aluminum pouches, as well as 350g boxes and 450g tins."


The article above was from that acclaimed website Wikipedia to which all dedicated scholars must go at various times in their lives when they desire some important piece of knowledge that cannot be found anywhere else. In this case, I'm cutting out the middle man for all of those scholars. I already know what Hello Panda is, and, true to my generous nature, I thought I'd share with all of you the joys of this cute snack little from Japan.

I discovered Hello Panda while living and studying in Jordan. Jordan does not completely fit into the "developed countries" list that Wikipedia mentioned in the second to last paragraph of the article above, but Jordan is moving up in the world, and evidence of that is the availability of Hello Panda in most small convenience stores in the capital city of Amman. The delectable flavor of this scrumptious treat is described above so I do not need to go into much more detail, but truly the Japanese outdid themselves with this one. Hello Panda certainly kicks Hello Kitty in her non-existent tail. I mean, does Hello Kitty come with chocolate in her face? I don't think so... You can see that Hello Panda is vastly superior to a great number of other Hello Animals. So naturally, when I left Jordan behind, I was very sad to say goodbye to my Hello Panda friend. Until yesterday when my life re-gained its meaning.

Yesterday, after an hour of driving around in circles trying to find an entrance to City Mall that was not under construction, we finally made it in. Scott had been waiting for us in the mall for several hours at this point. His original intent was to watch a nerdy Star Wars cartoon that Emily and I, being the true film connoisseurs that we are, refused to watch with him. Instead we went to the travel agent where I was planning to buy a ticket to the States for my sister's wedding. I didn't end up getting the ticket there due to a small error on the travel agent's part where she told me the ticket was $380 cheaper than it actually was. I ended up buying the cheaper ticket online because I am a nice person who tries to save her sister money even though that sister didn't have the courtesy to wait for me to get home before she decided to get married. At least this way I get to see her early... As it turned out, the geek-movie was not playing contrary to internet information (not everything on the internet is as reliable as Wikipedia). So Scott went on to the grocery store to wait for us to come back from what was supposed to be a short trip. Several hours later we met up with him in the store, relieved (Emily was anyway) to find he had not yet spent all their hard-earned money on random crap. He was also relieved to see us and proceeded to play grocery store tour guide for us. He has since contacted an agent and will soon be publishing a map and book detailing the finer points of the store layout and product availability.

Happy to have companionship again, Scott quickly ushered us towards the shining aisles. "Here we have Taco Bell salsa! And here on your right there are Fritos! Look up to your left-Poptarts!" We ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the appropriate moments, and Emily, competent housewife that she is, selected the least over-priced items that will make great meals for when I come over accidentally on purpose at dinner time. I admit to being tempted by things like salsa (a staple food for me that fulfills the vegetable requirement on my food pyramid), but I am also almost as cheap as the man who raised me. (We never got to buy cheese puffs because you got more grams for your money if you bought pretzels.) But then, while Scott and Emily were looking at some kind of sauce that I didn't know existed, I saw it!! A beam of light illuminated them on the shelf of assorted crackers and cookies. That's right! HELLO PANDA!!! I did a little happy dance and began to sing the song inspired by Hello Panda right there in the store while Scott and Emily pretended not to know me. I selected a bag of individual Panda packs and then floated after them throughout the store, no longer minding the monotony of the Great Search for Quaker Oats by Emily that is still going on today. Occasionally I would burst into song whenever I glanced down lovingly at the package of Hello Pandas cradled in my arms like a baby.

The real test came later in the car when I, being the selfless person that I am, tried to share my Hello Panda joy with Scott and Emily. For some reason, they were hesitant to trust my cultured taste buds' testimony. They claim it was the chocolate jam-filled marshmallows that I made them try. I maintain that those are an amazing feat of edible chemical engineering. But eventually Emily agreed that Hello Pandas are quite tasty. I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm, but Emily can't help not being as refined as I am. She grew up in America and thus derives her joy from such mundane things as Reese's Cups. Reese's cups...they don't even have a face!

Martyr's Day

November 11th is the day to remember those who blew themselves up in crowded marketplaces or died a suspicious death in a hospital. I also recently found out that it is something called "Memorial Day" in the land of my birth...I'm not sure what Memorial Day is but I think it's something similar to Martyr's Day. You know, one of those days that are not special enough to be an official holiday but are still marked on calendars for some reason. Still, it was a memorable event for us over here.

Last night, I put on high heels and hobbled out the door to the Yasser Arafat memorial show. Once there we found a nearby place to park (for which I was happy because of the aforementioned painful shoes), we followed the crowd into the brightly-lit arena. The important men sat soberly in front, impeccably attired in their camouflage outfits which rendered them almost unnoticeable amongst the concrete and plastic chairs surrounding them. There were many AK-47s present as well. Scott kindly described to me, with intricate detail, the many differences between the AK-47 and the M16. And what I remember from that discussion is that, contrary to popular belief, there is no such thing as an AK-45 or an M13.

As the only foreigners, we were given special seats in the front, right beside the loud speaker which we appreciated greatly. Throughout the whole show, helpful camera men took many videos and photos of the crowd directly behind us. Since we were politely watching the show, we never discovered what was so fascinating about our particular part of the crowd, but whatever it was definitely deserved an infinite number of photos and videos for posterity's sake.

The show was a typical one. There were several passionate speeches yelled loudly in classical Arabic. Interspersed throughout the whole program were various emotional poems also delivered with great feeling and volume. Finally there were many dances involving shiny costumes and flags turned into dresses. As is also typical of these kinds of programs, the speaker volume was so loud that you couldn't actually hear what people were saying (screaming) into the microphones. My brain was throbbing in my skull to the beat of each syllable that came bursting out of the impressive sound system.

Throughout the program I concentrated carefully on my attentive face. I had to maintain the right mix of enjoying the program while soberly pondering the reason for the season. Facial expressions are always crucial to your foreigner image. Still, while I'm mocking, because that's what I do, it always makes me sad to see children dancing around with coffins and authentic-looking fake guns to violent songs calling for war and martyrdom. These people have suffered a great deal, but continuing to foster a culture of violence in their young hasn't helped them either. Case in point: an exciting little fight broke out in the back section of plastic chairs during one of the acts. Everyone got up and turned to watch the fight instead of the cute little boys who were actually putting on the best act of the night (Arabic drums). The men broke up the fight and kicked out the perpetrators, but these kids have a lot of frustration that they want to get out. They can't get certain jobs or educational opportunities because of their lack of citizenship in the country where they live. They are doomed to follow in the footsteps of their fathers, fixing cars or running a little store no matter what their education level. But I have hope that things will change. I overheard one of my friends emphatically telling another lady that they need to take all the violence out of these kinds of programs. I was surprised to hear her say that, but happy. Of course, there's always the chance that I misunderstood and she was actually calling for more violence. The loudspeaker was right over my left ear...

This photo isn't from the Martyr Day event, but it is an example of the same sort of costumes and dances that are typical of these types of events.

The Wedding-by popular demand

As many people have requested this story in print, I am taking this time to tell it.

While all weddings have their special moments, the last wedding I went to was especially exciting. It may be the fact that we had to leave early due to an altercation involving my friends, but that's just an assumption.

It began in the usual way. We were told to meet at a certain place at 7.00 even though the wedding would begin around 8.00. In Lebanon, as in much of the Middle East, weddings don't necessarily begin at a certain time. People show up, sit down at a table and wait for the bride and groom to arrive. Lebanon is unique, though, as most weddings are mixed. Men and women attend together and even dance together! This would cause great scandal in most other places, but people here don't seem to mind.

So we were running a bit late as we were visiting another friend in the same camp, and she was not ready to let us go yet. Nor was her daughter who has a fondness for Scott and biting people who don't do what she wants. You can see our dilemma. I called the house to see if they were really ready for us or if they were running late as is usually the case. I was informed that the girl we were meeting was not there. She'd already left for the party. This made us a bit concerned as we didn't actually know the way to the hall where the wedding was to be held. So I called her cell and she actually hadn't left yet, just her brother thought she was gone. But she did tell us to hurry over as everyone was waiting for us. So we hurried over (leaving before the biting kid realized we were gone) and then waited at the meeting spot for 30 minutes for the people who were all supposed to be ready and waiting for us.

Finally we made it to the wedding. We parked near the hall while our friends parked near the gate. So we waited at the entrance to the hall for our friends to meet us to go in. While we stood there, the nervous wedding coordinator tried to hustle us inside. We told him we were waiting for our friends, but we could see the wedding drummers assembled outside, ready to enter, and I wanted to go in so that we wouldn't miss the excitement. After several long agonizing minutes of waiting for girls in high heels to amble our way, we went in and found a semi-empty table near the front. We were just in time to watch on the projector screen in front of us the arrival of the drummers and the bride and groom. We quickly noticed that had we still been standing at the spot where we'd been waiting for our friends, we would have been in the midst of the drumming and dancing and waving. That would have been a bit awkward.

The wedding began typical to most weddings here. Several young men dressed in traditional clothes drummed and tootled on horns and danced around swinging prayer beads over their heads while doing intricate kick dances. Amidst all this fanfare, the bride and groom are escorted in by more kick-dancing young men. They wave amiably at the cheering, ululating crowd that you can't actually hear because of the even louder music. The groom is dressed in a typical tuxedo/suit thing and the bride is wearing a cross between lingerie and a wedding dress. She is the first bride I've seen who wasn't wearing the head-covering and she was definitely willing to show off her body. The bodice of the dress was similar to a corset made of some kind of see-through netting which revealed the excessive curves of her body. While Song of Songs compares the Beloved's neck to the Tower of David, in this case the bride's hair more closely resembled an architectural triumph over gravity. Together they stood awkwardly while the dancers performed several more numbers, including an elaborately choreographed sword fight. No Arab wedding is complete without swords. At this point, I started helping Marian take notes for her own wedding. Finally the happy couple was escorted to the couch throne but not for long. They had to get up and dance the first couple dance. During the dance, the helpful wedding coordinator whispered instructions in their ears at various moments.

Then the festivities began in earnest. People spilled out to the dance floor, joined hands, and began the debke. This is a glorified hokey-pokey dance that really looks cool. The young men make it look good adding in energetic jumps and turns. Emily and I made it look awkward, trying to keep up with the steps that kept changing. Finally the debke was over and we could actually just dance. After the dancing slowed a bit, the lights changed as a signal to all to vacate the dance floor so that the staff could wheel in an enormous 12-layer cake. The soundtrack to this momentous occasion was none other than Vanilla Ice's musical masterpiece "Ice Ice Baby." The crowd at our table went wild. (Emily knows every profound lyric of this work of art). While swaying gently to the music, the bride and groom together grasped a long sword handed to them by the ever-present wedding coordinator and chopped the cake in half. Then, still dancing, now to "I Like to Move It-Move It," they shared cake and linked arms to drink the juice. This looked awkward and possibly threatening to the poofy white gown below. After the exchange of the rings, the dancing got started again.

During this bout of dancing, we were on and off the floor. We were served the sweet but bland tasting cake with crunchy fruit surprises hidden at random places inside. During one of these rest times we noticed a mass exodus of guys from the room. We were informed that a fight was going on outside. We stayed out of it, but later Ashley went out and came back with the exciting news that there was blood on the steps outside. Later when we ourselves were quickly vacating the premises, we noticed this blood. We thought that would be the most exciting part of our night there when another fight began. Apparently, our friends were dancing when an aunt of the groom told our friend (a relative of the bride) that she couldn't dance in the middle of the debke circle which is traditionally reserved for relatives. Then someone pushed our other friend who was dancing with the relative. Her brother went up to defend her honor, but he is a little guy, and he was grabbed by the throat by the aunt's relative. Our friend inserted herself between her brother and the other guy while the other brother rushed back to our table and told us to get up because we all had to leave now. We quickly gathered up our stuff, and left the hall.

Outside there was much confusion about whether or not we should go back in and make nice or just leave. When the lady who had been told she couldn't dance in the circle came out, she made the decision for us. She said she was not going back in and we all should leave. So we did. We tried to be very huffy about it to make a point.

So on the whole, the evening was a great success. Emily and I had wanted our sisters to experience an Arab wedding. And we'd had the bonus of getting to see a fight and being involved in another fight and best of all, we didn't have to stay until midnight because we got kicked out early!

Little added tidbit for your benefit: the next day while ordering food to go in a restaurant near my house, the waiter recognized me and Marian. "You were at the wedding last night, right?" He queried. "Yes," I told him. "Pretty wild night, huh?" That it was!

A photo of the sword cutting the cake that was obscured by the many guests and the staff. Use your imagination!

Wintertime

So, it's winter now. Or so I've been told. I was informed of this fact several times last week. First when trying to get a bus home from Sidon. Here is a snippet of our conversation, translated for the benefit of my 2 readers.

"We need to get on the bus to Tyre. Where is it?"

"Bus to Tyre? There are no more buses to Tyre. It's 8.30 at night!"

"I know it's 8.30. That's why there should be buses still going. I've taken a bus from here at 10.00 at night. Why did the buses stop so early?"

"Because it's wintertime! In the winter, we stop the buses at 6.00."

Instead of a bus, we ended up catching a taxi home, which cost way more, but we were mildly entertained by the Elvis figurine hanging from the rear view mirror. Apparently, according to my very wise taxi driver, Elvis died of AIDS. I'm sure if I'd given him the chance, he would have told me how the Jews managed to infect him with the disease and cover it up so that no one could find out, but we made it home before he could get to that part of the story. Amazing how we did it without snow chains on the tires!

The other time I was told of the new season, was by friends of mine when I invited them to come swim with us at the beach. Their response: "WHAT?! You're swimming now? We never swim during October! You will catch a cold and DIE! Don't you know that it's winter now?"

Now I admit that I am not the world's expert on winter, having grown up on a tropical island that is as close to paradise as many people will ever get. But I did think that 25 degrees Celsius (the temperature seen on an outside thermometer) and 86 degrees Fahrenheit (the temperature on our car thermometer) still counted as pleasant weather. I mean, I get cold when I eat ice cream, and at this point I am only in need of a jacket when I get in the car with Scott and Emily. Their way of dealing with culture shock is to make the inside of the car resemble the climate of Alaska (their adopted home state) as much as possible. Usually, when I start being able to see my breath in the car, I politely ask them to turn down the air conditioning. But, in spite of my Emily Post approved etiquette, Scott always thinks it's hilarious to turn the air conditioning colder (I turned it down! Hahaha.). But if I ask him to turn it off, I get the same response. So, I think I'll just leave a blanket in the car from now on. It's always a good idea to have blankets in the car during the winter anyway.

Musalsals (TV Shows)

Watching the most popular musalsal in a cafe with other rabid fans while smoking sheesha (after sundown of course)! That is the life!

It's Ramadan which means that there is no shortage of available TV programming for those fasting and the rest of us who are going to hell anyway. During Ramadan, people stay at home with their families (mostly) and the TV is almost constantly on. In the months preceding Ramadan, people are bombarded with advertisements of upcoming shows, much like Americans are bombarded throughout the entire year. Some shows are more popular than others, and some shows make it to "must watch TV" status. The most famous show in the Bilad Al-Sham (the Levant) is most definitely Bab Al-Hara (door of the village/neighborhood). This show follows the lives of people in a small Syrian village during the 1930s when the French occupied Syria and Palestinians were beginning resistance fighting in then-British occupied Palestine. This show includes amazing acting and intense plot-lines. Last year, living with a Jordanian family, I watched nearly every episode. This year I don't get MBC1 on my TV, which has been a great disappointment to me. But everyone has told me that the series was better last year anyway. Last year I developed a special fondness for Moataz, the young man who walked around forcefully with his eyeballs popping out of his head and yelled every one of his lines with a special passion. The big drama was when his dad divorced his mom for arguing with him and saying rude words. Because of that huge disgrace, the daughter's fiance was forced to break up with her even though he didn't want to. He laid around on his bed, refusing food or water and pined away for her until his father relented. Also the blind beggar was not really blind, he was a spy! And at the end of the show (a new episode is shown every day for the entire month) everything ends up great, with everyone getting married off (one guy got 2 girls!) and living happily ever after...until Ramadan next year when new troubles will inevitably plague their little town.

The popularity of this show also paid off big economically. Vendors began selling masks of the characters' faces to little children and making T-shirts of cast photos. Almost every child can boast of a Bab Al-Hara T-shirt or at least a Bab Al-Hara notebook. You know a show has made it big when the actors get put on T-shirts and other paraphernalia, as was the case with another well-known show from Turkey that was dubbed into Syrian Arabic called simply after the name of the main character "Noor".

"Noor" is a very controversial show in the Middle East, mostly because so many women have fallen madly in love with the lead male, Muhannad, a blonde, blue-eyed former model. This was not a Ramadan show so it has been on the air for quite some time already. This show is very complex. Noor and Muhannad are married because their families want them to be. Muhannad just got out of a unhealthy relationship when his fiance fell out of the car window into a valley and died. A tragic accident that millions all over the world can really relate to. But even though Noor and Muhannad start off as a marriage of convenience, two such beautiful people cannot help but fall in love, in spite of the many difficulties that assail them. Both of them go to jail at different times (unjustly of course), Noor is kidnapped by her psycho co-worker, Muhannad's ex turns out to be alive, in a wheelchair with a blonde kid named Muhannad (they meet up accidentally while vacationing at a ski lodge where all people in wheelchairs go for a bit of fun on the slopes). So between marriage troubles where they teeter on the brink of divorce for various reasons at various times and family troubles where members of their family teeter on the brink of divorce for various reasons at various times, their lives are exciting and romantic. Who wouldn't want to be them? They even look good in jail and in comas and while pregnant. They go from flat toned bellies to holding a bouncing baby. If you didn't know they were pregnant from their exceptional acting skills (holding their tummies occasionally and smiling) you would never guess. They are THAT beautiful. I'll put up some photos so you can see why women all over the Middle East are dreaming of leaving their husbands for Muhannad.



Can't you see why any woman would trade in her husband for him? Biting his own hand because even he can't resist how yummy he is!

Here is the happy couple together! It is also an example of the wonders of photoshop as I mentioned in my last literary masterpiece. The only difference between this photo and others I've seen is that sometimes the couple looks happy.

Personally, I like the idea of ending a show after a month. I think that shows in the States last way too long as a way of getting more money and after a few seasons there is nothing really interesting to include in the story so things get crazy or they just repeat themselves. How many people in Alias will we think are dead only to find them resurrected in someone else's body a few months later? How many times will Ross and Rachel break up? Why are there stupid polar bears on the Island? Who thinks up this stuff? There are many things we can learn from the venerated culture of the Arabs, and the art of creating sensational TV is just one of them.

Photography

When a visit gets dull or even when it's moving along fine, more often than not the big photo album comes out to be shown to the lucky foreign guest. (Side note: this probably doesn't happen to male foreigners too much because many times women who usually veil will take photos without their veils. This is why they can't display these photos for everyone to see. Perusing the family photo albums is just one more benefit of being a girl in the Middle East.)

From weddings to babies, photos are important reminders of the good times in life. Or are they? In fact, it is extremely rare to find a photo of someone who seems to be enjoying himself or herself. Scowling faces or deep ponderous eyes gaze into the camera. Of course, since most of these photos are wedding photos, it really isn't surprising that no one looks too happy. Most wedding photos are elegantly posed on couches taken from old French brothels. Baroque furniture and still life paintings crowd the background, giving the impression that the photo was taken in your grandmother's parlor. But with the advancement of modern technology and photoshop, things have gotten much more exciting!

These days, the classical couch photos still exist, but they are supplemented by others that allow you and the subject to be transported to a different place, often a place not of this world! Indeed, I myself have been allowed to feast my eyes upon photos of brides and grooms floating in space with firecrackers exploding behind them. (People here are amazingly fond of firecrackers, dynamite, and other explosives which may be the subject of another blog someday.) Others prefer an autumn forest of gold and red leaves covering the background of the photo. Still others enjoy posing on a romantic beach at sunset.

The traditional parlor room pose where lovers and babies repose in silent grandeur and the modern jet-setter pose where love takes people beyond borders without a passport are both moving, yet my personal favorite photoshop technique involves multiple images of the same subject in various poses in but one photo. So often, when many great shots are taken, frugal parents or lovers still do not want to buy that many photos. Instead of wasting these images, they are all moved into one frame. For example, the adorable baby is crawling in the foreground of a deserted island. On her back sits...herself in the same orange-striped outfit. To the side, near the blue-green sea, the same lovely baby giggles in the imaginary sunset, while two familiar baby eyes watch the scene from behind clouds. Proud parents aren't the only ones using this money-saving and artistic technique. Lovers also use it to show their devotion. The bride and groom sit stiffly side by side while the same bride looks down upon herself as part of a happy couple from the inside of a floating heart in the upper-right-hand corner. Sometimes her face is not in a heart, but in a rose or superimposed on the breast of the groom. Another friend of our has a slightly more narcissistic way of making use of this technique. In his self-portrait, his own face looks out at the world from his stomach in a special two-for-one viewing of his manly beauty.

We in the West do not take advantage of the vast scope of technology that sits at our very finger-tips. I rarely see photos in my homeland that rival the depth of those I see so often here. But I plan to change that when I take over photography for Marian and Josh's wedding. I will show the world what it is missing.