Throughout our lives together, Shannon and I have never lived together in a place where Halloween was a big thing. When we lived in Ecuador, we lived in an apartment building in the middle of the city of Quito. There weren’t really many “neighborhoods” with kids running around asking for candy. Not to mention, on top of that, the Ministry of Education in Catholic, conservative Ecuador dictated that we as a school could not celebrate such a heathen holiday publically. Of course, in response, there were many “Fall Festivals” and things of that nature, but at no point did it ever turn into the notion of Halloween that we were familiar with.
Upon settling in to compound life in Riyadh, we quickly realized that since we were now living in a tiny suburban village with walls, with a 98% reproduction rate, we would need to be prepared for Halloween.
To continue to build my expectations, the compound was going full bore with their preparations. In the barbershop, there was a doll missing limbs with nails sticking out of it, mounted to the wall. There were Christmas trees with dismembered doll heads mounted on top. (Not sure what their thing with dolls is) The soccer field was transformed into a graveyard. A road on the compound turned into a haunted train. They even had a disturbing walled off room with taxidermied rare animals for kids to...take pictures with? Because nothing says Halloween like sitting on top of a dead cheetah’s hips while pretending you are running away from an ostrich. This is a real thing that happened. No idea why.
To prepare, I stocked up on 7 bags of candy. I was determined to NOT be that guy who gives out pennies or apples. I was going to get the good candy and be ready for the onslaught of tiny Wonder Women, Incredible Hulks, and other indistinguishable creatures of cartoon shows I have never seen.
As the night came, Shannon and I told our friends with kids to make sure they stopped by. I dumped what amounted to approximately 17lbs of chocolate into a bowl, with a reserve bowl on deck ready to go for when the first wave subsided. We threw on some scary movies to watch while the kids came through and settled in for a good night.
Shortly after, a group of three kids came by and we hooked them up with all of the cavity inducing chocolatey nougat they could handle. Then...nothing. For like two hours. As the desert sun quickly disappeared behind the beige landscape, we sat there confused, with the haunting image of two bowls of diabetic nuggets of sugar mocking us. So we had a few pieces as we discussed why no kids were coming, obviously.
Throughout the night, we had about three visits, maybe a total of 9 kids came through. I believe I ate more chocolate than I gave out. A few of my high school students came through at the end of the night and of course, they were given fistfulls of chocolate in an effort to preserve my own health. There is no way that having the remaining 6 full bags in the house was going to end well for me.
All in all, I was a little disappointed in the lack of Halloween spirit. When I asked my colleagues later, they all told me that they expected me to be doing something cooler like attending an Embassy party or going out, not sitting at home ready to give candy out. Well, lesson learned. I need to get cooler and less generous. In the meantime, if anyone lives within 10 miles of our compound, let me know if you want some extra chocolate. It’s still in the house, though dwindling daily.
Upon settling in to compound life in Riyadh, we quickly realized that since we were now living in a tiny suburban village with walls, with a 98% reproduction rate, we would need to be prepared for Halloween.
To continue to build my expectations, the compound was going full bore with their preparations. In the barbershop, there was a doll missing limbs with nails sticking out of it, mounted to the wall. There were Christmas trees with dismembered doll heads mounted on top. (Not sure what their thing with dolls is) The soccer field was transformed into a graveyard. A road on the compound turned into a haunted train. They even had a disturbing walled off room with taxidermied rare animals for kids to...take pictures with? Because nothing says Halloween like sitting on top of a dead cheetah’s hips while pretending you are running away from an ostrich. This is a real thing that happened. No idea why.
To prepare, I stocked up on 7 bags of candy. I was determined to NOT be that guy who gives out pennies or apples. I was going to get the good candy and be ready for the onslaught of tiny Wonder Women, Incredible Hulks, and other indistinguishable creatures of cartoon shows I have never seen.
As the night came, Shannon and I told our friends with kids to make sure they stopped by. I dumped what amounted to approximately 17lbs of chocolate into a bowl, with a reserve bowl on deck ready to go for when the first wave subsided. We threw on some scary movies to watch while the kids came through and settled in for a good night.
Shortly after, a group of three kids came by and we hooked them up with all of the cavity inducing chocolatey nougat they could handle. Then...nothing. For like two hours. As the desert sun quickly disappeared behind the beige landscape, we sat there confused, with the haunting image of two bowls of diabetic nuggets of sugar mocking us. So we had a few pieces as we discussed why no kids were coming, obviously.
Throughout the night, we had about three visits, maybe a total of 9 kids came through. I believe I ate more chocolate than I gave out. A few of my high school students came through at the end of the night and of course, they were given fistfulls of chocolate in an effort to preserve my own health. There is no way that having the remaining 6 full bags in the house was going to end well for me.
All in all, I was a little disappointed in the lack of Halloween spirit. When I asked my colleagues later, they all told me that they expected me to be doing something cooler like attending an Embassy party or going out, not sitting at home ready to give candy out. Well, lesson learned. I need to get cooler and less generous. In the meantime, if anyone lives within 10 miles of our compound, let me know if you want some extra chocolate. It’s still in the house, though dwindling daily.
No comments:
Post a Comment