We both giggled at the unexpected pleasure

"With salt piles like this, who needs the Grand Canyon? Early rays transform [the salt piles] across the street into a natural wonder," we captioned this image of the view from our front porch two winters back.

'Been working most of the day on something we're not at liberty to blog about yet. Without revealing its purpose, we'll provocatively quote from the document we wrote this morning:

I would like to offer the perspective of a photographer/writer/blogger who has lived diagonally across the street from this evocative and ever-changing landscape for nearly 30 years. Always in search of "beauty in unexpected places," I've found [the working waterfront across the street] to be a motherlode of visually stunning and thought-provoking imagery through the seasons, grist for my photographic eye and politically philosophical tongue.

To illustrate my viewpoint, I've selected a few images and accompanying text from my blog, sisu.

"Thinking about the demographics of my neighborhood, once dominated by Poles but now heavily Latino, I'm intrigued with the presence of a significant number of Muslims, who come together to worship on Fridays in the local Roca and then disperse mysteriously to their veiled -- to me -- lives in this city that has seen wave after wave of immigrants working their way on up," we wrote:

How might . . . [local] cultural- and/or ethnic-themed seasonal events . . . enhance the lives of such newcomers, encouraging them to join the mainstream of their adopted land?

"As the bulk carrier 'Ince Atlantic' out of Istanbul unloads its cargo . . . across the street, the sun's early rays alchemize salt to pure gold," went the caption to our January 2005 post "And when I looked the salt had turned to gold."

We pass local female Muslims in various degrees of coverage daily during walkies and took hope from an encounter just yesterday when a Somali or perhaps Yemeni woman staring grimly across our field of vision towards her friends across the street suddenly let down her mask and smiled at us warmly when we took a chance while crossing the street to look into her eyes and offer a friendly "Hello." We both giggled at the unexpected pleasure. The gals from Somalia and other African countries typically delight us with the vibrant colors and textures of their costumes -- often tied behind rather than in front of the neck. Others, all clad in black on the hottest summer day, remind us that men throughout history have often attempted to puff up their importance by jackbooting women, and women have all too often complied.

Comments

[goomp]

Let us hope that we can find a tolerant Muslim culture such as you may have in the woman who smiled. That would be beauty in an unexpected place.

[Teresa]

Sissy, you're such a tease. *grin*

I'm sure your wonderful pictures will impress whoever receives them... but I'd have to ask them why they aren't reading your blog already. ;-)

[be]

In my time across the bridge from you, I learned more to worry about the Latin gang problem (apparently there've been more than a couple recent machete attacks - hallmarks of MS-13) than the Maghreb problem in that neck of the woods. That said, I've always wondered why no one's ever done an investigation of al-qaida activity in the Wood Island/Orient Heights area of East Boston.

[Sissy Willis]

Now you've got me scared, Be. Ever since our Chelsea vet closed up shop and went into partnership with a vet in the next town, we take Tiny and the Babe right into the Orient Heights area for their checkups.

[be]

Orient Heights is wicked Catholic - nothing to worry about. The Maghrebins in the neighborhood are pretty quiet, and are not going to go after you largely because you're clearly anglo...it's a combination of politesse, knowledge that they're largely not legal, and takkiya. The illegal latin-types, on the other hand, are the ones you've got to watch out for, as they're brutes. I've not blogged about that, because whenever I did, I was treated with spam from the local blog aggregator regarding my racist tendencies. (I'm not: I speak both Spanish and Portuguese)

Anyway - don't worry about your trip to the vet - you'll be safe. And the best you can do (I do the same thing on my commutes to and from work) is continue to smile: it's a beautiful bit of sunshine that radiates and reflects off the others you chose to give it to.