Fragment No. 62

On March 12th, in the heart of Amman, Jordan, 17 women (strangers at the time gathered in a sun-drenched rooftop terrace downtown. We were there for an educational journey, a holiday of purpose, to explore gender equality and the refugee experience across Jordan. Little did we know at that point that carpet #62 had quietly joined us too.

As we immersed ourselves in stories of resilience, passion and strength, we discovered the magic of cultural collaboration and the gentle, powerful way art can spark connection. Conversations flowed more freely when we shared creative expression through knitting, weaving, sewing.

Then one afternoon, I saw it: a single word painted boldly on a wall. And something within me resonated.

As someone deeply passionate about women’s rights and driven to contribute meaningfully to society, this word spoke volumes. It embodied the perfect blend of what I love and what I stand for.

Knitting and weaving are far more than crafts, they are bridges. They cross cultures, generations, and beliefs. Each loop and thread holds a story. They create a shared space for dialogue, for empathy, for understanding. In a world so often divided, the act of making something together, something colourful, textured, diverse, reminds us of our shared humanity.

Artivism gives me a way to turn passion into purpose.

My highlights on the trip to Jordan were meeting courageous women in Amman - like Lana, a young city guide with a lot of positive energy, and Rana, a journalist and human rights activist with a lot of calm and composure - who have gone their own way despite all the adversity.

For me, the talks outside the official programme were an absolute highlight.

I had the chance to speak openly with inspiring, strong women. From everyday things like dating to political topics. I realised that the experiences of women all over the world trigger an unspoken understanding in me. Even though we live in different cultures and places, being a woman is a consensus that we share.

Experiencing and observing this was incredibly exciting. Often it didn't take a lot of words to explain feelings or social roles, but a ‘...you know what I mean’ was enough and we all nodded in agreement because we knew exactly what was meant.

No feminist principles had to be explained and nobody denied a woman's experience or expertise. They were encounters at eye level and an exchange between generations and cultures that touched me deeply and is still very much on my mind today.

For me, a real highlight was the end of the trip in the desert. The vastness and tranquillity, the time for ourselves and in the group, the conversations around the campfire and understanding that a large part of the country is characterised by the desert landscape and this special atmosphere.

It's not so easy to pick out a sultana from the diversity of these 10 days. It's a bit like having a big, beautiful carpet and having to concentrate on just one section. There were so many intense experiences on this trip that even taking a break towards the end became an event for me:

The midday heat still hangs over the camp. In the morning we went for a short hike in the area, sun, rocks, sand, dry plants and even more sun. There's not much more movement possible, it's now far too hot for any major activities. Everything is slow and sluggish.

After lunch, I sink onto one of the mattresses in the communal tent. I'm not the only one. Dozing, sleeping, reading, drinking, nodding off again. There's nothing to do this afternoon. And it's quiet. Unusually quiet. No distant city - country - street - noise. Just the occasional bird's voice or aeroplane, a yawn, a sneeze, the rustling of book pages. This lazy day in the desert is a gift after all the impressions. So much information, places, encounters, appointments. Finally some peace and quiet. We are away for a moment. No internet, no social media, no news, no contact with the rest of the world. The soul can catch up, the mind can calm down, the body appreciates the siesta. I enjoy the cosy idleness and the prospect of more of the same. There's no rush today.

My doze is suddenly interrupted. Someone somewhere is shouting something. For a moment, I think how absurd what I'm seeing is. Why is a camel looking in the window? Where did it come from? Apparently there's nothing exciting to see here. Rocking, the big animal moves on towards the food tent. A second one appears... Which can also happen in the desert.

In my heart, I take Lana, our neighbourhood guide, with me into my world. I, who have always loved freedom and attached great importance to being able to make decisions for myself.

Lana, out shopping with her brother, was talking to a man. As a result, she had to become his wife. Although she divorced from this first marriage and returned to her family, she was allowed to meet her future husband twice in her second marriage, but a third time without being married to him was not possible.

Despite this social constriction of not being allowed to make decisions for herself as a woman, I perceived Lana as a self-confident young woman, laughing, radiating energy, not accusing, not bitter. Although the outward impression may be deceptive, I still admire her for her successful deception.

Travelling brings people closer together, people who would probably never have met in their previous lives - this is what happened to my ‘room sharer’ Angela, to whom I am happy to pass on the story.

My particular highlight is the ‘Zaman’ library in Madaba. It was a cold day and my interest in the programme was largely extinguished that morning when we entered the cosy rooms. Founder Ronda al-Qonsul has set up a free public library in her father's old house. She has created a meeting place that offers books, games and homework support. Children can find a place to study there. I sympathise with the idea of putting the inherited family home at the service of the community. And I like the host's attitude of maintaining conceptual independence and foregoing donations in return.

In a unique collaboration, international archaeologists and conservators are working together to study, restore, secure, and preserve the cultural significance of two important Phoenician-Punic necropolises in North Africa, Djebila and Aïn Dalia Kebira, for future generations. These ancient burial sites, which reflect the rich heritage of the Phoenicians, offer fascinating insights into the cultural history of the Mediterranean.

This is a striking example of how international collaboration builds bridges between history and the present, deepening cultural exchange.

In Greece, during Easter, in addition to the traditional red-dyed eggs often adorned with patterns of flowers and leaves, there is also an aromatic sweet bread flavored with spices such as mastic and mahlep. Last week, the colleagues from the museum team also had this bread. Wait, last week? Wasn't Easter several weeks ago? No, it wasn't – because the Orthodox Easter rarely coincides with the Western Easter!

Called πάσχα (ˈpasxa) in Greek and Пасха (ˈpasxa) in Russian, derived from the Jewish פֶּסַח (pésach), Easter is the most important festival of the year for the Orthodox Church, commemorating the resurrection of Jesus. Easter is a moveable feast, meaning the exact date is calculated anew each year based on the lunar cycle, similar to the Jewish and Muslim calendars.

While in the Bible, the death and resurrection of Jesus coincided with the Jewish Passover, and the early Christians celebrated them together, later church leaders decided to link the Christian Easter to the beginning of spring. By the way, this time of year has also been significant for many pre-Christian traditions and cultures! Since then, a highly complex calculation system has been used to determine the date of the festival – different in the Western, or Catholic and Protestant, churches and in the Eastern, or Orthodox, churches. Thus, it happens that Easter is celebrated up to 5 weeks later in Eastern Europe and countries around the eastern Mediterranean than in Western Europe.

Orthodox Easter was celebrated this year on May 5th – the sweet Easter bread is baked a few days before the holiday and eaten on Easter Sunday and the days following, after the traditional approximately 50-day fasting period.