It's Only December--Let's Talk About Thanksgiving

So, the Reverb10 prompt yesterday gave me a lovely gift. The prompt was: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

Awesome. This means that even though I procrastinated sharing Thanksgiving pictures with you for weeks, now I can! And I even have a great excuse for doing so today, of all days!

Thanksgiving has been truly great in Saudi, both this year and last. I love all the history and meaning behind Thanksgiving--giving thanks, obviously, but I also just love that originally, Thanksgiving was about cultures coming together and finding a bond of gratitude. Here, we really get to experience that in a unique way, as people from about 10 different countries showed up to partake in our feast! Everyone ate until they could do nothing but groan and call for stretch pants and a nap. Everyone laughed and enjoyed each other. And I loved every second!

Here are the pictures!

Look at that beautiful bird! My part in that was staying out of the kitchen while Husband cooked the turkey. He's an expert. (I made the stuffing and also opened up two cans of cranberry sauce.)

People pretty much lined up all the way out of the kitchen for the amazing food. We had maybe 40-ish people show up. All the Americans were instructed to bring a dish, and the end result was too much food for all the counter space in the kitchen. We ended up piling plates of rolls and drinks on every available surface--and that didn't even include dessert!

Does that not look amazingly Thanksgiving-y? (P.S.--The sweet potatoes in the upper-left-hand corner? I literally licked those off the plate.)

Lookit this artsy shot Husband got of people picking up dessert. We had so many options; again the counters were full.
I had some apple pie and also some chocolate mousse pie that pretty much met my year's quota for chocolate. Which is a lot. 

I am not kidding.

Wall of thankfulness. Not everyone contributed, but still, it was nice to be able to share with each other.

This is how all Thanksgivings should end. :)

Reverb10

So I recently found out about something called Reverb10--a blog project to spark introspection about the past year and--I hope, anyway--intentionality for the coming year. I like the idea of thinking deeply about this past year; a lot has happened for me. Plus, writing prompts are helpful.

Today's prompt: Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?

I've had really great community this year; I lovingly call them the Magnificent Seven. Specifically this has worked because my close community is a small group of people who are working toward the same goal and meeting regularly. This is the year I began to think of my community as my actual brothers and sisters, in the sense of how I feel about them, and not just simply in the sense that I should treat them that way.

I wouldn't be sure that this was true except that I've had conflict--at least some--with most of these people over the past year. Once the newness of a relationship rubs off and the cracks begin to show, you find out what the relationship is really made of. Coming through conflict in one piece, closer than ever, reassures me that this community isn't just something I'm imagining, like a game of make-pretend-to-be-friends.

These are the people who've seen me at my worst, who've not walked away or gotten scared or given up.

The rich should worry

So maybe you didn't get that money so you can have a better "standard of living."

That's what's been bouncing around my mind the last couple of days. It's been about a month since Husband was offered a job with a non-profit company in the U.S. that provides clean water for the world's poor. His dream job. With a great salary.

Any time you have a great salary--and let's use the world's standards of "great salary," here, meaning, "more than $2 a day"--some alarm bells should be going off in your head. That's right--if you're rich, maybe you should start worrying.

You know what you find out when you meet the poor? Like, I mean the real, my-kids-are-very-sick-and-may-die-because-I-don't-have-money-for-anti-diarrheal-medicine sick? You find out that they pray like nobody's business. They feel the wings of the Lord covering them, brushing up against their skin, all the time. They taste His name on their tongues every time they open their mouths.

Imagine filling your mouth with sand and sitting in the sun all day. The way you'd want a drink is the way they want heaven.

But me? I dunno, my life is pretty comfortable, you know? Maybe it'd be nice to get published first. Have some kids before I go. I really wanna grow old with my husband.

See, that's the thing; that's why it's so dang hard for rich people to get into the Kingdom. Maybe we've got other priorities.

Okay, I just terrified myself with my own thoughts. The rich should worry, with thoughts like that.

Okay, reminder: This isn't impossible. There are rich people who did it--Lydia and Zaccheus come to mind--but it isn't easy. Something about a camel and the eye of a needle. (The image of him trying to squeeze through is much funnier once you've lived in the Middle East and ridden a stubborn, knee-locking camel. And now that I'm thinking of it: Have you tried just getting thread through the eye of a needle? Not like even that is easy...I digress.)

So let's say someone hands you a check, I dunno, for $1,000. Rich people always, in my experience, think about what they could buy for themselves with that. You know what I could get for $1,000? A really nice set of dishes. A beautiful hand-woven rug to sink my toes into. A mahogany bed frame with a canopy. (Can you tell yet that all my temptations center on making my house pretty?)

But the thing that I have been challenged with is that question: What if you didn't get that money so you could have a better 'standard of living?' Or, um, a nicer set of dishes?

God forbid I should have wonderful flatware outside the kingdom of God.

New Age in the Middle East

For all their crackdowns on religions other than Sunni Islam, it seems to me like the Saudis have a huge blind spot toward one: New Age.

So while Bibles are illegal, I can run down to Jarir bookstore and pick up a copy of "The Secret" any old time I want. They put people to death for witchcraft, but always ask you about your astrological sign. It's not weird to find out people practice new-age-tinged yoga or meditation (focusing on emptying one's mind, as opposed to a monotheistic view of meditation that focuses on filling one's mind with the Word of God).

I find it creeping into the conversation here and there. People telling you to look inside your heart and do what seems right to you. A leaning toward the subjective and universalism. People who are mostly seeking self-actualization, not submission.

So, the odd thing is obviously that this is in contradiction to what I know of Islam--but it's totally socially acceptable, while other things in contradiction to Islam are completely unacceptable.

I blame this partially on the phenomenon I call "Sounds True." Telling a Muslim there are more than 3,000 gods is going to be rejected pretty quickly. But New Age beliefs are way more subtle than something like that. They don't slap Islam in the face. They just quietly nudge it in the ribs 'til it moves over.

The other thing, I think, is a propensity for the education system in the Middle East not to teach people to think and analyze, but to memorize and believe. For example, young people have been taught for ages that the Qu'ran is true, while the Bible is riddled with errors. And in these school systems, you are absolutely trained just to accept whatever your teachers tell you as truth--as opposed to how I was trained in the West to think, analyze, and compare with criticism. When an old religion like Christianity comes 'round, they slap it down fast. But when New Age pops up, I don't think people have been given the tools for critiquing it and judging whether it's true.

And it "sounds true."

Oh Saudi. You never fail to surprise me.

The Whirlwind Woman

Today I taught Um Zara a new verb: Inspire. I only wanted to teach it so I could tell her that she inspires me.

The woman's got a husband, five kids, and a grandson. She's got a big house to take care of and plenty of cooking to do to feed everyone. But somehow--somehow!--she still manages to always have some project going on. Learning English, studying the Qu'ran, learning how to use the computer...she never stops. On top of which, she's not one of those mothers who just let the television be the babysitter. Or hires someone else to clean her house, even. I just can't figure out how this whirlwind of a woman does it.

It brings up a need that I see in America these days: Awesome role models. One thing I've noticed about Americans is that they tend to hang out with people in their own age bracket. College students hang out with other college students; young marrieds chill with young marrieds; people with kids are friends with people with kids.

That's all well and good--it's a little bit harder to find topics of conversation when you're in a completely different place in life. But one thing we might be missing is the ability to find older women who have done things you aspire to do--and who did it well. I want to know what it takes to have a successful marriage, raise kids well, and manage to have time for my own projects, too. But I don't have too many friends in the States who are older and have done it already. Maybe that's part of the reason we have so many self-help books in America--instead of friends, we get literature to teach us how to do it all.

Lots of Saudis study in the U.S.

According to a new report by the International Institute of Education, Saudi Arabia sends more international students to the United States than any other Middle-Eastern country.

China sends the most students to study in the States, followed by India. Saudi Arabia is seventh in the pack.

All that to say, I'm feeling hopeful that I'll find an Arabic partner in CO next year.

Hajj time

I'm posting this at 3 a.m. cuz I can't sleep. Thank you, insomnia. Let's see if I'm a little more off my rocker than usual.

Well, it's time for Hajj, aka time to educate my readers about the tiny bit I've learned while living so close to Mecca. So, Hajj is basically the pilgrimage that's required for all Muslims. It's such a big deal that they've made it a pillar. (So, Islam has five "pillars"--statement of faith, prayers, giving, fasting, and pilgrimage. No other religion as far as I know refers to its most important duties as "pillars"--one more linguistic mystery for me to solve one day.) Last year during Hajj, about 2.5 million non-Saudis flooded into Jeddah donning this one-piece white towel-y-looking garment, which always for some reason reminds me of Gandhi. (p.s.--Gandhi? Not a Muslim. Don't get confused here.)

My first awareness of the Hajj-phenomenon came through an essay I read in college, which of course I now can't remember the name of, but which was a personal memoir of attending Hajj. All I remember of the essay is how crowded Hajj seemed. You've got 2.5 million foreigners, plus Saudi pilgrims, plus Mecca's actual inhabits, crowded into one city that normally holds 1.7 million people. It's got to be one of the worst places in the world to bring a bunch of small children--imagine trying to hold on to a three-year-old in that kind of crowd.

I can't say I've learned a whole lot since then. There's something about running between two mountains to symbolize Hagar's search for water for her son. People pelt pebbles at some columns that represent the devil. They circle a black box and pray. I think there might be some sheep sacrificed. Everybody is required to do every thing in the same exact order at the same exact time, which means that enormous crowd follows you everywhere. Or maybe you follow them?

All this ignorance of mine just highlights the fact that pilgrimages are sort of lost on Westerners. We don't really have a concept for the kind of preparation you'd do to make a trip like that, or the kind of importance it would have to you.

Instead, we have retreats. Ah, the phenomenon of the personal retreat--it's not about going anyplace special; no, it's about getting away from everything normal. Get out into nature, particularly. (Well, in my crowd anyway.) Have a mountaintop experience. Connect.

Why does humankind need to get away from the normal to feel as though they are really connecting with God?

My brain is fuzzy. I can't think about theology at this time of the night.

Going home...weird

Sorry about the long time since my last post. This always seems to happen around this time of year: A lack of writing in general on my part.

So, Husband recently got a job...in America. In my home state, no less, and we'll be living like probably 15 minutes from where I grew up. We'll be moving back to the States mid-December.

I am a big ol' bag of mixed feelings on the subject. I am so excited and happy that Husband has a great job, which I know is exactly what he wants to do. Who is lucky enough to get their dream job right out of school? I'm also happy to go home, where I know how everything works and I'm never completely unsure about things like how to get maintenance in my house. Also, America has one huge appeal to me: Nature. I really can't wait to take a jog next to the foothills, overlooking woods, streams and golden fields. AND. I'm tired of moving. So tired. I HATE moving, and I am so ready to just be in one place, for once. Not packing every six months. I want to sink my feet into the earth and grow roots.

At the same time, though, I feel super sad about leaving. I have already had to say goodbye to several people that I know I won't see again for a very, very long time...if ever. I feel like I am just an expert at saying goodbye, so much so that I'm starting to feel numb every time I do it. Also, I'm just sad about not living overseas anymore. Even though it can be frustrating, it's also a crazy experience that not everyone is lucky enough to have. And to be honest, I never saw myself living right where I grew up. I always saw myself in a foreign country, dressed in foreign clothing, speaking foreign words, having a foreign life. It's hard, suddenly, to adjust your expectations for your own life.

Did they just compare Bin Laden to the Dalai Lama, the Pope, and Jesus?

Why yes, yes they did. Check out the first few paragraphs of this story from the Egyptian newspaper Al-Ahram.

I firmly, firmly believe that a wise person listens to both sides of a story before making a judgment...but after listening to the other side of this one, I just kind of want to throw up.

Istanbul pictures...finally

Flags hanging inside the Grand Bazaar


This is Zeki, a carpet-seller in the Grand Bazaar, sitting in front of a 100-and-something-year-old kilim (flat-weave rug). Zeki, I'm pretty sure, is the only person in the entire Bazaar who does not try to lure tourists into his shop the way a spider would lure an insect into its web. Most shop-owners are all "Hey, c'mon, have a quick look around, looking is free," until you're inside, and then they basically block the door until you take them up on what is, they assure you, a very special deal just for you, since you're such a special tourist and all. Zeki, however, just gave me tea and educated me in the world of fine carpets for several hours, without so much as a hint of "How much would you pay for this?"


Pottery shop in the Bazaar. They love their painted flatware in Istanbul.


The dome inside the Haghia Sophia, a 1500-year-old church-turned-mosque-turned museum.


Colors and columns inside the Haghia Sophia.


Streams of tourists with umbrellas pouring out of Topkapi Palace. It rained or drizzled or misted literally all day every day while we were in Istanbul. It was like therapy for my skin. It kinda sucked to never have dry feet, though.


Inside Topkapi.


Famous Blue Mosque.


Don't drive your tractor on the bridge.

Too much change, apparently

I have always (okay, not always, but for a good long while, anyway) operated under this paradigm: When I'm around people from other cultures, I try to "do it the way they do it." When I meet my Arab friends, I greet the ladies with cheek kissings and the men with my hand placed over my heart. I always inquire about the family and have a good amount of conversation before ever 'getting down to business.' If I invite them out to coffee, it'll be my treat. And on and on it goes; it could very well go forever.

Why? Because I aspire to be a cultural chameleon. I want to fit in wherever I go. I want to speak a dozen dialects and understand every local custom. I want to see the world, but I never want to be a tourist.

It's taken me years to figure some of this stuff out, and I don't even get it all yet. Americans greet with handshakes; they're direct and confrontational; they split the tab. But when I'm around another culture, I try to turn on the analytical side of my brain and figure out what's happening and why. And a huge part of Arab culture is driven, in my opinion, by hospitality.

Take something normal, like having a guest. Here are some of the things people have told me over the years. First, thorough house-cleaning is an absolute necessity before guests arrive. Right down to moving the couch to vacuum under it. In America, you might offer a drink; in Arabia, you give them one, immediately, and offering is kind of like saying, "I don't really want to give you this; if I did, I would just do it." So you don't offer things; you just bring them. You never, ever, "kick someone out" of your house because you're ready to go to bed. Basically, you bend over backward for your guests.

So, I invited one of my favorite people over this week, and she told me something along the lines of, "Nah, I feel like you're going out of your way too much for this." Then she told me that I was "becoming more Arabic" and that she liked "how I used to be." Back when I was all messy and disorganized and would forget to offer water.

So I told her, "Khalas, okay, come to my house and I won't do anything. I just want to see you." She did and it was all well and good.

But apparently, my strategy of "being more Arab" has both succeeded and failed. Succeeded because apparently I've got some of the rules down. Failed because it turns out, your true friends don't actually mind if you're casual and clueless. At least when you're casual and clueless, you're relaxed and not stressed out.

New paradigm: Try to blend the two cultures together and create a new equilibrium.

News flash

News Alerts: 6 New Results for Beth

Arabic skills recovered in risky search-and-rescue attempt
Authorities have recovered Beth's Arabic skills this week, which miraculously survived after they went missing four months ago. Sources report the second language disappeared in May, when Beth boarded a plane for the United States and encountered a whole slew of people who didn't know what the word "insha'allah" meant. Still, hope remained throughout the summer that Arabic would someday return, as the missing-in-action language gave hints of being alive: Beth mysteriously thanked waitresses with "shukraan" and accidentally commanded children to "yallah." Then today, the Arabic skills reappeared, very much alive and seeming to have suffered no ill effects from four months of captivity. The joyous reunion was followed by a one-hour discussion about education almost entirely without English.

Two people--two!--dream Beth is pregnant; superstitious fears follow
In a somewhat disturbing chain of events, Beth and her close friend both dreamed Beth was pregnant last night, leading to nervous speculations about the state of Beth's womb. Beth entertained thoughts of the power of female intuition; and of how her mother once dreamed a friend was pregnant and then it later turned out that the friend was pregnant, and her mother knew about it first even though they weren't even living in the same state and hadn't even talked in months, and what if this is the same thing? Other female friends were less-than-reassuring about the state of Beth's uterus, claiming they'd actually been thinking about her being pregnant this very week.
If her mother also has had a dream lately about Beth being with child, Beth will probably go ahead and take a pregnancy test.

A whole year after buying her Mac, Beth finally figures out how to scroll
Today, Beth finally figured out how to do a two-finger scroll on her Mac, and the late-blooming skill launched a whole new set of insecurities about how she'll never be as cool as all those artsy, hip-ly dressed, tech-savvy people featured on Mac commercials.
Meanwhile, nagging thoughts that she'll never really figure out Twitter persist.

Beth declares self unfit to mother a cat, much less a child
For the second week in a row, Beth forgot to take her cat to the vet this week, claiming she got "caught up" in her Arabic studies. Since the vet visits her compound only once a week, the unfortunate feline will have to wait even longer before he can get a cream or something for that funky fungus on his leg. Beth lamented her poor mothering skills to Husband, bemoaning her absent-mindedness and asking what kind of mother she'll be. Husband meanwhile hoped this outburst of emotion was PMS, and not a sign of the aforementioned pregnancy.

Refrigerator contains only mustard, capers, lettuce
In preparation for their upcoming trip to Turkey, Beth and Husband stopped buying regular food and intend to attempt survival on a sparse diet of condiments. Beth has subsisted mostly on hard-boiled eggs, mustard and chocolate milk, while Marc has eaten an absurd amount of canned chickpeas. Friends' comments about how hard-boiled eggs with mustard sound like a pregnancy food were not appreciated.

House cleaned in anticipation of cat-sitter's arrival
Beth and Husband spent time cleaning toilets and sweeping for dust-bunnies to prepare for the cat-sitter's arrival this week, in spite of the fact that the cat-sitter is probably the least clean person they know. Still, Beth faced uncertainty about what he would think if he discovered six books, 11 note cards, four Bobbi pins, four pieces of trash, three pens, a pencil, a photograph, a pair of nail clippers, a couple of old to-do lists, a journal, an iPod connector thingy, some chap stick, and her cell phone on her bedside table. Shortly thereafter, she swept all of it into the bedside table's top drawer and called it good.

Couple unclear how it's time for trip to Istanbul, already
Citing a lack of seasonal changes in Saudi Arabia and the fact that "time flies," Beth and Husband both expressed undue shock that their impending trip to Turkey was, in fact, in like three days.
"Holy crap, how is it October?" Beth remarked, nearly a week into the month.
Husband gallantly took it upon himself to write out all the directions to everywhere and check multifarious travel web sites, while Beth borrowed a book called "Istanbul" from a friend and vowed to read it on the plane. She also alerted blog readers that she'd be gone for a week, but she'd reward their faithfulness later with pictures from Istanbul.

The pyramid is wrong

There's a popular idea in psychology called the Hierarchy of Needs. The concept was created by this guy named Abraham Maslow, who essentially ranked human needs in a pyramid with things like food, shelter and air at the bottom and self-actualization at the top. The theory goes that humans begin to fill their needs from the bottom up. Only once they have attained food and shelter can they look for something like a loving relationship. Only once all other needs have been satisfied will they go on a spiritual search for meaning.

I don't know how anyone, having studied a range of human experience, can subscribe to this nonsense.

Case study #1: America. Let's just go ahead and say that country's got it pretty good when it comes to basic needs. Less than 2 percent of the population lives in absolute poverty (less than $1/day). Americans, even ones who have been hit by the recession, are rich people--they've got cars, houses or apartments, and money to spend on $5 cups of coffee. Their children go to school. They wear shoes. They usually do not die because they get diarrhea and can't afford the medicine to stop it.

There's poverty and suffering in America, sure, but I'm just saying that this poverty is relative to the rest of the American population. On the whole, if you're an American, you're probably freakishly rich.

So according to the Hierarchy, with these basic needs covered, Americans are freed up to pursue higher needs: love, friends, family, spirituality, God. But that's not what Americans are doing with their wealth. One recent study indicates that, when asked to identify their priorities in life, the priorities of family and spirituality are both on the decline in America, while priorities of health, wealth, and leisure are climbing.

It strikes me that wealth is an addictive thing: Get a little bit and you'll want a little more. Instead of feeling satisfied with our basic needs and moving on to pursue relationships and then faith, suddenly we put way more things into that "basic" category: the right kind of cell phone, for instance, or a house with four bedrooms, not three. We feel unsatisfied with what we have, materially, and so our focus stays on the material.

Case study #2: Refugee population in Uganda No one can miss the absolute poverty here, and I won't spend a whole lot of time talking about that.

What I will say is that, according to the Hierarchy, these are the people who ought to be consumed, every minute of every day, trying to meet their basic needs: Food, clothing, shelter. But while these people spend insane hours out in the fields trying to meet those needs, I don't think I've ever met anyone who prayed harder. God is like oxygen for them: If He doesn't provide, they will die--and they know it. He's indispensable. He is their biggest need, because they realize that without Him, they can't have any of their other needs met.

On top of that, the people I met put a higher value on community than any American I know. (And the Americans I know value community more than most do.) I had one person tell me they'd rather build relationships with foreigners than have their money. (Read: The community tier is a higher priority than the "basic needs" tier.) And if you want to know what you can do for them, they will tell you: Get to know us. Spend time with us. Show you care.

One thing I've noticed is that humans aren't actually very good at realizing when their basic needs are met. How many times have I heard an American (including, embarrassingly, myself) say: "I wish I were rich"? The more time we spend focusing on our material needs, the more we seem to have, don't we?

No wonder it's hard for the rich to enter the Kingdom.

How to get stuff done

Why is it so hard to do stuff? I swear, when I worked four part-time jobs and took 18 credit hours and volunteered, somehow there were more red check marks on to-do lists and feelings of accomplishment that followed. Now that my whole day stretches out blankly in front of me, somehow the temptation to watch the Food Network for hours on end is way stronger than it ever was before. Maybe I thrive on the pressure and the deadlines. Which is why I've needed to learn to motivate myself, which is a lot harder said than done. But after a year of this, I've finally got a few tricks in my bag.

1. Write out a schedule. Especially procrastinators like me. If I don't plan when I'll work out or write, I'll inevitably push that stuff further and further back until suddenly--WHAT??? HOW IS IT MIDNIGHT?!?

2. Ask for help. You know those quiet, peaceful hours of the morning when nobody's up yet and it's just you, your coffee and the sunrise? Yeah, I hate those hours. However, I get more stuff done if I get up earlier. Knowing how hard this is for me, I've recruited Husband to cajole me by turning on the lights and promising me coffee. I ask friends to meet me at the gym or go to a coffee shop to study Arabic. Nothing wrong with accountability.

3. Make attainable to-do lists. I am queen of mile-long to-do lists. Like, I'll write "Plan Thanksgiving dinner" in early October. Really? Do I need to worry about that now? It's slightly more useful and a lot less discouraging when I only let five things onto the to-do list, which means I might actually accomplish some of them instead of feeling so overwhelmed that I never even get started.

4. Unplug the Internet. I think I have cyber-OCD. Like, if I'm online, I somehow feel the need to check my e-mail every five minutes and then read all the updates on Facebook. Whenever I get stuck on a project, my cursor just automatically drifts toward Firefox before I even know what I'm doing! And every time I do that, I lose like 15 minutes of work time because it takes that long to transition in and out of an activity like Working on my Book. Unless working actually requires me to be online, it is stupid not to unplug.

5. Multi-task like mad. Favorites: Memorizing Arabic verbs on the treadmill. Cleaning house while talking on the phone. Planning plot points as I pick up groceries.

6. Take a whole day off, every week. Which is great, because then I can plan to spend four hours re-reading the seventh Harry Potter book without feeling guilty about it.

"Health" Food

I was originally pumped to hear that the supermarket on my compound would have an entire section devoted to "health food." Then I found out that my idea of healthy food is very, very different than theirs. I mean, I think of organic produce, whole grains, vitamin-rich snacks. Words like all-natural and unprocessed come to mind.

But here's what I find in the supermarket:

An entire wall of sugar-free candy and reduced-fat cookies.

I cannot pronounce most of the items on these ingredients lists. That is never a good sign.

Another entire wall devoted to sugar substitutes.

This would be the wall of chemicals. I'm not even sure if this qualifies for the "food" part of "health food."

A whole wall of jelly.

Why is this here?

A corner devoted to refried beans and processed nacho cheese.

Okay, what the crap?

And finally, one corner of actual health food.

I live in the airport

I've never been to Ethiopia. Now, I've been to the Addis Ababa Airport, which is in Ethiopia. But it doesn't count. I never left the terminal. I gazed out the windows at the Ethiopian landscape, and then did crossword puzzles and took a nap while I waited for my next flight. Airports are a special place: A place for people just passing through, a place that's neither here nor there.

Living on a compound is sort of like living in an airport.

See, technically, I live in Saudi Arabia. I have the stamp on my passport. I have an iqama, or residential visa. My postal address says "Kingdom of Saudi Arabia" at the end.

But at the same time, I definitely do not live in Saudi Arabia.

For instance: The official language, where I live, is English. Most women don't wear the abaaya. Cultural events like weddings don't take place here. And, if I wanted to, I would never have to interact with any Saudis, at all. There are enough Americans here that I could stay entirely within a Western clique without having to engage with the local culture.

To be honest, I've found the entire experience...disappointing. I've wanted to move overseas for years. But I live in an airport--a place that's neither here nor there. The compound is eerily defamiliarizing: It's like living in a Middle-Eastern impression of a small Western town. The coffee shop is a replica of an American chain. Middle-Eastern "festivals" held in the public town square are attended overwhelmingly by Westerners. There are so many Americans here that it's easy for us to duplicate the exact routines we used to have at home. And since we're so far separated from the actual culture of Saudi Arabia, we're missing out completely on the most valuable thing you can gain while living overseas: community. While I might have Arab friends sprinkled here and there, I have virtually no connection at all to an actual Saudi community.

So maybe as a first "living overseas" experience, this isn't actually representative.

Which is maybe why I have another itch to move, but maybe....maybe not home.

Arabic is my music

I'm back to language learning, which makes me about the happiest camper on the planet. Back to spending lunch hour practicing gargling sounds! Back to complicated mimes/diagrams to help me get my point across! Back to propping my Arabic notebook on the treadmill at the gym! Back to annoying people by explaining points of grammar they have no interest in!

I'm thrilled to discover that I actually forgot a little less Arabic than I originally anticipated. By this, I mean that I can understand my teacher when she speaks Arabic to me, but when I want a word like "confused," for instance, I dig around in my brain to no avail. It reminds me a lot of playing music. I was super committed to playing music in high school; I played about four hours a day at one point. But I haven't played in...a while. Years. So anyway the point is that when I pick up my instrument now, my fingers remember things I don't. My eyes see the notes and my fingers just play them, by memory. Obviously not perfectly--but they surprise me.

That's how it is speaking a language you haven't practiced in a while. You remember things you didn't know you remembered.

Alhamdulillah.

Holy Cyberspace, Batman!

An excerpt of an essay I wrote officially got published by an online magazine! And it feels swell!

I Meant to Tell You the Soup Story

So Husband is feeling sick in the mall, and I want to buy soup for him. Soup and tea, actually. We head up to the food court; Husband sits down and puts his head on the table, and I march over to the nearest shop.

"Salaam-aleikum," I say. This just means "hello." Everyone in this country knows how to say "hello." It is not ground-breaking for me to say this. Or, anyway, I certainly don't think it's ground-breaking.

"What?!?" Clarification: This wasn't a Sorry-it's-loud-in-the-kitchen-and-I-didn't-catch-that what. This was a Did-this-white-girl-seriously-just-greet-me-in-Arabic-even-though-I-probably-speak-English what.

"Salaam-aleikum?"

The guy's jaw literally falls open.

"Aleikum-salaam," he manages to mumble.

"Uh, andak hassa'?"

"WHHHAAAAT?!?" Again, he heard me. But he's staring at me like palm trees just started sprouting from my ears.

Now I'm stuttering. I can't figure out if this guy is just really surprised that I should speak Arabic, or if I'm actually saying it wrong and accidentally asking him if he has heroin, or something.

"Hassa'?" I say in a tiny voice.

"Na'am." He points to the menu, which is simple enough for me to read. There are two soups, and one's vegetarian.

"Hal haatha buhaaraat?" I want to know if it's spicy.

He literally can't even answer. He just stares at me, slowly shaking his head, which I take as a no.

It was the easiest order I ever placed in a restaurant. I knew every word I needed and never stumbled once, not even when I asked for change (and the word for change is "fucka," so that can be kinda difficult at times).

But I'm pretty sure I almost gave that dude a heart attack with my Arabic ninja skills.

Watch out your abaya!

I shopped for 12 hours in the big city yesterday. And I've managed to boil the entire experience down to six awesome photographs.

Taken near an escalator:

The translation was clearly done by Google Translate, which doesn't believe in prepositions.

Taken at a restaurant with separate lines for women and men. The sign in the upper left-hand corner reads "LADIES."

I'm slightly confused about the point of side-by-side separate lines for men and women in a fast-food joint, but these dudes seem to be just confused, period.

Taken at a restaurant called "Thai Thai":

Um, cutest teapot/tea cups EVER.

Taken at a Toys 'R Us:

That's the wall of Hannah Montana dolls. Apparently, her cult following is just as enormous in a country where religions other than Islam are prohibited.

Taken at a supermarket called "Hyper Panda" (uh, best name for a supermarket, ever):

Spring Roles. Maybe inside the package you'll find theater bills?

Also taken at Hyper Panda:

That would be Pillsbury dough boy products, labeled "Organic Food."