One of my least favorite things about teaching overseas is the limited availability of stuff in the host country. In Ecuador, we craved things that we couldn't have, like M&Ms, Buffalo Sauce, and clothes that fit. That is always going to be a challenge; desire for specific stuff. The result of these inevitable longings for specific possessions usually leads to supply runs when we go home for the summer. In previous years, we've stocked up suitcases full of protein powders, sauces, work clothes, and every and all other things we couldn't get. I would say on average, we have devoted 1/2 of our baggage on our return trips to bringing supplies back with us that we otherwise wouldn't have.
In preparation for a similar haul this summer, we sat down and made some lists of things we wanted to stock up on. During this process, it occurred to me that we actually have availability for most of the things we need here. Everything is much more accessible here than in Ecuador. That significantly decreased my "to purchase" list to a few things. One thing that remained was a new suit. We are required to wear them a few times per year on specific parent event days. Well, at least it was on my list until I heard about how reasonable custom suits are here.
About a week ago, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, when he mentioned he had a tailor. It turns out, his tailor helped him with more than alterations, he made custom suits. So off we went to go get a few made.
This particular journey took us through the dusty streets of Riyadh to a downtown area about 40 minutes away from our compound. When we got there, the shop was closed, because hours of operation are more like estimated timelines more than definitive expectations. So we waited outside of his tailor's shop for about a half hour. The area can best be described as a maze of cluttered shops. Connecting the spiderweb of concrete were dust filled alleyways guarded by mangled dirty cats, stricken with scars from probably fights over tumbleweeds of trash. It did not give off the impression of fine customized high fashion and luxury.
When the man and his partner decided to open up, we walked in to a store roughly the size of an average living room, with bolts of fabric stacked floor to ceiling. He had dozens and dozens different fabrics of the same shade of navy blue, the same for black and gray. He said that they varied in quality, thickness, and weight. Then, he had the dozens of different shades of each color, each with its own equally impressive stack of quality materials. It was overwhelming.
Having never purchased a custom fit suit before, I largely followed the lead of my friend. I picked out a color, picked out a fabric, got fitted, and tried on some sample options. The man discussed each and every aspect of the suit in a level of detail and care that was equally impressive and overwhelming. I had to pick the thickness of the collar, the vent style, the number of vents, the height of the vents, the depth of the pockets, the angles of the pockets, the fabric inner lining, color of the inner lining, the number of buttons, the placement of buttons, the desired circumference of space for the pants around my leg, the lay of the collar, preferences in length of the pant on a shoe, whether or not I wanted pockets inside of the jacket, the stitching pattern and placement. It was unbelievable.
Needless to say with my process, and my friend getting three suits, we were there for a while. While we were there I commissioned a few dress shirts to be custom made, and went through the process all over again, albeit at a smaller level of detail.
We paid a deposit on our suits and were asked to come back a week later for another fitting. After paying, and thinking for a moment about the likelihood that it would work out okay, we left with slightly lighter wallets and no assurances that we would in fact, get our suits. The cost of the suit, fully customized, was well under the prices of anything from a department store in the US, and it was being build for me around me, and with my specific requests. The shirts too, were about half of the cost of most nice dress shirts in the states.
Today, after hearing about my experience, Shannon and a friend of mine went to go check it out again, and for an updated fitting. Man, and I pleasantly surprised. The suit fit nearly perfectly. I tried it on and, while not done yet, it looked great. Some gaps in fabric and adjustments were made with a piece of chalk by the tailor and I was done. I will be returning in a week to get it all, two weeks in total to go from cloth on a shelf to a perfectly customized suit. My friend ordered a few and we were on our way. Now I'm left thinking of what other things I can use that excess suitcase space for on our return trip.
I just came across this saved in the drafts. I guess I never actually posted it. This was from September, when we first arrived.
So Saudi Arabia is hot. It’s sandy too. Like really sandy. We live on a compound that serves as somewhat of an oasis in terms of green space and amenities. The compound kind of exists within a bubble. It’s a proverbial snow globe of plenty within a desert landscape in some ways. However, there are some aspects of living in the desert that can’t be insulated within the confines of our concrete walls.
On our first day of school pre-planning, we wrapped up a long day of professional development, classroom prep, and lesson planning. My classroom is kind of tucked into a corner of the campus, with outdoor entrances on two walls. Two walls are entirely glass, which allows a lot of natural light into my classroom. The Social Studies area serves as kind of an outdoor hallway. The location’s relevance in this case, is depending on the time of the day, the front of the building obscures a bit of the sunlight that comes into my room. On this particular day, I noticed a clear absence of sunlight. I packed up my things and went outside to go get Shannon so we could go home and after stepping four feet outside, I realized that we were in the middle of some sort of MILD sandstorm. It was dark, winds were whipping, visibility was low, and my nose and mouth were slowly filled with a dusty sand. It was clearly mild. Most Saudis would probably argue that it was nothing more than a light breeze flowing through campus kicking up the smallest amount of sand. But for me, this tiny amount of sand equated to the dulling of three of my senses. I couldn’t see well. I couldn’t taste anything but dirt, and I smelled nothing but dust. It was surreal. I fought through it and took the outdoor stairs to Shannon’s hallway where I found four teachers hanging out. They had been told not to go outside or leave yet by a custodian due to a sandstorm. Sweet.
We’ve also been privileged to have seen dust devils rolling across the sandy plains while driving. For those who have no idea what I’m talking about, dust devils are sort of like tiny sand/dust tornadoes. They pop up super easily due to the relatively flat plains and ample loose sand. I didn’t get to take a picture of one because...driving, but the internet has a photo that will help explain it. The cool thing about these little guys is that you can CLEARLY see the tornado regardless of the size. I’m sure they can get big and scary but the 5 or 6 we’ve seen amounted to 60 foot tall, three foot wide tunnels of wind. Nothing crazy or dangerous. Just very unique and interesting.
The mini-sandstorm and the mini sandnados were pretty cool, and unique to me. But these are just
two examples of the prevalence of dust and sand in our landscape. I obviously expected lots of sand, but I did not expect the manifestations that we have seen. They were small events, but they got my wheels turning. About 80% of our whole campus is made of tile and glass. How was it even possible to keep everything so clean and pristine when sand whips up and covers everything in a moments notice? It would be like sweeping your front yard. Then, one day, in the morning, I got the answer to my question. I got to work early and found a fleet of maintenance workers driving tiny zambonis. They were kind of like John Deere riding lawnmowers, but zambonis. You know, the giant ice tractors they use at ice hockey arenas? They have a small nozzle that shoots water on the ice, then a squeegee to smooth it out as it passes over the area. The effect of the zamboni is that it fills the grooves and cuts in the ice with new water, and smooths it out so it becomes new ice again. Well they have those in Saudi for sand! These little zamboni tractors spray water on the tile ground, and mops the sand right up. It’s really interesting, and answered my questions about sand maintenance. That, in conjunction with constant washing, window cleaning, and wiping down keep our school pristine throughout the day despite the fact that we live in what essentially amounts to a sandbox with constant cross winds. Shout out to the maintenance crew.
Ahh Spring Break. It is without a doubt one of the most rewarding times of the year for a teacher. Spring brings new growth, flowers, warmth, and the hidden beauty of nature formerly hidden by frost and icy weather, for most of the world. For teachers, it is the time when students’ new school year enthusiasm, post winter break/New Year’s resolutions focus fades, and tedium sets in. In my experience as a teacher, I find that the time before spring break is one of the hardest to get through. Students are losing focus, motivation, and energy. Quite frankly teachers are too. The exhaustion of events, comment writing, grading, lesson planning, and multiple 60+ hour weeks strung together like ribbons on a May pole begun to unravel even the most well-intentioned teacher. Everyone needs a break. Well we finally got ours.
As mentioned, we were beat. We were exhausted and ready for a trip and while we have learned to enjoy some of the challenging aspects of living in Riyadh, and learned to cope with others, we wanted a break. It was time for us to escape the desert and go somewhere, preferably cold since the 100 degree weather returned. So, based on some recommendations we received from other teachers, we set off for Budapest, Hungary.
We left on the first flight out that we could make. Since our work weeks go from Sunday-Thursday, we set off for the first flight out on Thursday after a long week. That first flight, like many flights leaving the Middle East, was scheduled for a 1am departure. It seems this is an unfortunate trend for us. Since the Middle East is so close to many European, or Southeast Asian travel hubs for connecting flights, one of the busiest times is in that 1am-3am window. After an unclear delay of an hour and a half standing in the boarding line, we got on our plane headed for our layover in Paris. After getting maybe a combined 50 min. of sleep, we arrived in Paris with the deliberate intention of a 30 hour layover, with which we could explore the city for a day.
We checked into our hotel after clearing customs and Shannon immediately went down for a nap. While she slept, I plotted out our afternoon. We were planning on getting up at 5am the next day for our next flight, so our exploration of Paris was going to be a short one. After getting her up and out of bed, we went out into the frigid weather of winter Paris. We wandered around the Eiffel Tower, took the obligatory photos, walked around a bit, and after a short time exploring, went to go eat some cheese, soup, and bread before an early evening in the hotel.
We purposefully stayed at a hotel away from all of the attractions, but close to the airport for convenience. So when we arranged for a taxi to pick us up at the hotel in the morning, we didn’t think much of it. The ride that had cost us 15 euro the day before ended up costing us 32! I argued with the guy. He told me it was my fault he had to wake up early so there was a surcharge, I argued back. It was like the Chile incident all over again. The only difference was he didn’t call me a pirate. Although other words were exchanged in French and English. We called the hotel from the car, it was a whole thing. But, we weren’t going to let that spoil our trip to France or our Spring Break that we were look forward to.
When we finally got to Budapest, it was relatively early. We decided that since we were going to be staying in Budapest, we HAD to stay in the Grand Budapest Hotel, or at least the hotel it was based on. For those who are unaware:
Anyway, we dropped off our stuff and went out to go exploring. We wandered our way down a few streets and found ourselves at an Easter Festival. Similar to the Christmas Markets in Berlin, the whole festival was set up around a usually empty park square. There were food stands, beer stands, wine stands, handmade crafts, a stage for bands to perform, and seemingly everything else you could want. There, we discovered the wonder that is Hungarian goulash and hand painted beautiful Easter eggs. It is apparently a long standing tradition to make and paint Easter eggs in Hungary. Women use tiny hammers to heat wax and draw designs on chicken eggs, goose eggs, or even ostrich eggs. They then carve out the shells, and decorate them with intricate designs of flowers, cityscapes, or anything else they want. They also make them out of wood, ceramic, or other materials. They were beautiful and amazing.
After walking through the market a bit, we found our way to the Danube River. We stopped in restaurants along the way as we walked up and down the river, and then walked across the beautiful chain bridge connecting the Buda side of the city to the Pest side. When we got there, we took the funicular up the side of a large hill called “Castle Hill.” The funicular is a funky elevator meets cable car going up what were kind of stairs, and kind of a slope. It’s hard to describe. When we got to the top, we found ourselves at the foot of Buda Castle. It was first built in 1250 but was redesigned in the mid 1700s, and again adjusted and maintained a few times since then for upkeep and repair. It was gigantic. You could see that while the castle was very old, it was well preserved. In some parts, old stone had been replaced with brick, or different stone to maintain the structural integrity. The effect was one of a woven tapestry of stone and rock holding up the idea of a place revered throughout Hungary.
Oh, and this was the castle where Vlad Tepes, as in Vlad the Impaler, as in Dracula, was held prisoner. The thermal waters that run below Budapest carved our a long labyrinth that was used as a prison, torture chamber, and catacomb. Unfortunately, this was closed to us, but we were able to go to the site. We walked around the castle grounds and walked towards the rest of the Buda side of the city, which is considerably smaller but very charming. The Buda side of the city consisted of cobblestone streets, towering Gothic churches and homes and taverns all around. We stopped in a small restaurant where I had some paprika goulash. Apparently paprika is a big part of their cuisine. They have many different types and many of the dishes are heavily seasoned with it. I found the smokey flavor to be delightful.
We left the restaurant to find ourselves back in the cobblestone streets, but in a deluge. The rain was
refreshing, and a welcome sight coming from Saudi, but given the relatively cold temperatures, we were ready to move on. We walked the streets until we found a taxi and we rode down Castle Hill to the Hungarian Parliament building. We tried to get a tour after marveling at it from the outside, but they were full. Apparently everyone else in the city got the same idea when the rain hit. So after checking it out and taking some photos, we took a cab back to our Grand Budapest Hotel, where we hung out for a little while. We read a bit until the rain passed, and then went back out to dinner later in the evening. While we were out, we found ourselves at a restaurant that served terrible food, so we left again, and...rain. It started pouring on us. However, this time, fueled by hunger(y...sorry I had to) and renewed resolve, we found ourselves a shawarma shop, and scarfed down some street food before going back for the night.
The next day was relatively low key. We slept in, had some coffee, and went back to the Easter
Festival for some lunch. Shannon had some goulash, which was the first beef she’s eaten since I’ve known her! We went back to the hotel, read a bit more, and found our way to the hotel’s spa. We each got massages and swam in the pool. We went out to dinner afterwards (no rain this time!) and walked back. We found the city to be incredibly friendly for walking. We were able to walk nearly everywhere and the city is organized in a way that everything is relatively centrally located.
On our third day in Budapest, we checked out of the hotel and went to the famous NY Cafe. It was built in 1894 and served as a swanky social gathering for wealthy city goers. Cafe culture is very big in Hungary and we were not disappointed. The cafe was beautiful. Everything was made of marble. There were arched doorways and gilded fixtures everywhere. The waiters work full tuxedos and intricate carvings and paintings surround us everywhere. We had some coffee and cakes and made our way out, feeling more like upscale turn of the century socialites than the backpack wearing tourists we were.
When we were done, we checked into an Air B&B that we rented a few blocks away. We rolled our
suitcases through the street, because, as I said, everything is walkable. Then we did some grocery shopping and found ourselves down on the Danube, again walking from tavern to restaurant to shop, stopping along the way. At this point, we were finally feeling relaxed. But we wanted to push our luck a little further and take ourselves to the famous Szechenyi Thermal Baths of Budapest on the other side of town. When we arrived, we came to a huge monument called Heroes Square. In the square, there is a huge, column of carvings. Atop the column is a statue of the Archangel Gabriel holding the Hungarian Crown. It too, dates back to the late 1800s and all around the column, statues of various heroes of Hungarian and Austrian history stand, regal and proud. (Austrian figures because at the time it was built, it was still the Austro-Hungarian Empire, not two separate countries) The statues contained kings, saviors of various subjugated groups, and military leaders. It was a really cool tribute to a country’s history and marked a UNESCO World Heritage site.
After we visited the square, which served as the entrance to the park, we happened across another castle. Yes, we just happened across a castle. This one was called Vajdahunyad Castle, and it was built in 1896 to commemorate a millennium of Hungarian History. It was designed using different styles like Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque influences and it was modeled after several monuments of the Hungarian Empire. Some of the models included the Hunyad Castle in Romania (Transylvania) and a few others. It was first build with cardboard and wood as a part of the city celebration, but was later rebuild with stone and wood. Now, it’s a castle in the middle of a park. But it gets better. The reason we found this castle, was because of the music. There was another festival! That’s right, we had wandered in a park, found a castle, and happened upon a castle party. It was tremendous luck. In the party, there were more crafts for sale, food, jewelry, music, meat, and of course, beer. We got some refreshments and sat down on the grass, marveling in the fact that we were at a castle party, and that’s when I heard the soft, smooth tones of a familiar note. It was panflute! I told Shannon excitedly. Then I went over to find the source, and it was three men playing music and selling handmade crafts in the park. And yes, they were Ecuadorian. What a small world! We randomly found a castle party in a park in Hungary. In this party, we found Ecuadorians. In Hungary. We chatted for a few minutes before moving onto the Szechenyi pools.
The Szechenyi Thermal Baths are located in the middle of the park. They channel the thermal waters from below the city and make a public swimming and lounge area. Built around the pools are beautiful yellow stone buildings including cafes, bars, and changing rooms. When we got to the baths, it was gorgeous. The steam rose up from the water and into the cool air, which juxtaposed with the bright yellow stone and blue, cloudless sky, made for an inviting image; that is, until you looked down. The pools were about the size of olympic sized swimming pools. Inside of these pools sat dozens and dozens and DOZENS of people. I am not afraid of public pools, nor am I averse to public thermal baths, Papallachta is one of my favorite places on earth. But this was not that. This was human being soup. Body broth. I’m sure it’s very nice when it isn’t that busy. But this was not that. This was countless men, women, and children in their speedos, marinating in their own collective juices. This was water so populated with warm bodies that one couldn’t possibly look upon it and not think of the oils and hairs floating through the water. It was as if these beautiful pools were a large mug, and the people inside served as the tea, with their essence steeping in the mineral laced waters. Nope. We were good. We took a photo, noted the beauty, and went back to the castle party.
When we left, we resolved to walk back to the apartment rather than cab. It was, after all, a beautiful day. We did not anticipate the length of our walk however. We followed our map, and when we came to a local landmark, we discovered a wall. So we walked around it and discovered a mall, that was closed. Then we walked around that, and around another neighborhood. By the time we had walked back to the hotel, we had logged well over 13 miles for the day. Needless to say, I got some takeout, brought it back to the apartment, and relaxed until we fell asleep.
The next day, we walked to the local train station, found out which train to take, and hopped aboard, hoping that we weren’t headed towards the wrong place. There were no signs in English, and no real guidance. But, we were prepared and ready for an adventure, so we got on a train, headed for Austria. We opened our books, and two hours later, we got off the train, in the right city!
We got off of the train in Vienna and started walking the streets. The first thing that struck us was how clean everything was. While Budapest was clean as well, it’s combination of gothic architecture, Eastern Orthodox domes, Russian influenced swirly bulbous building toppers, dark stone, castles, and in some places, graffiti was a stark contrast. In the part of Vienna we walked through, we were surrounded by pristine white marble everywhere. The streets were clean enough to eat off of and landscaping was clearly a priority. Parks, lines of trees, bushes, and flowers all lined the sidewalks. Maybe it was because it contrasted so much with what we were used to in the desert, but it was a stark and obvious contrast from Budapest, and from Riyadh. We walked the streets, past more pubs, restaurants, churches, and boutique shops towards our ultimate goal, the holy pilgrimage sight of Shannon’s family, the famous Hotel Sacher.
As an outsider, I can only report on what I know, but legend has it, the Sacher family established the hotel in 1876 in Vienna. It’s prime location by the opera house, and it’s fancy interior made it a world renowned hotel, a sign of luxury, and a status symbol of wealth and opulence. It also happened to be a family connection to Shannon and her family. Perhaps most importantly, it is the creation site of one of the world’s most famous desserts, the Sacher Torte. For the time I have known them, there have been conversations about a hypothetical great pilgrimage to the hotel for a family tribute and of course, some cake.
When we got to the hotel, it was even fancier than the New York Cafe. Marble, deep blood red velvet, and gilded shimmering statues dotted the building. It was opulent without being overly or obnoxiously ostentatious. We were seated in a velvet booth overlooking the street and the opera house upstairs, and indulged on some of the best cakes we had ever had. We split a sacher torte, which for lack of appropriate writing ability to do justice, is a decadent chocolate cake, sliced in half, with a light apricot jam layered in the middle and on top. It’s then topped with a smooth, but almost crunchy chocolate icing and stamped with the company seal. We also, because Austria, had an apfelstrudel and some coffee. After our meal, and taking countless photos, and reading about the Sacher family, we went and grabbed some lunch. Yes, cake and then lunch after.
After lunch we went back to the train and headed back for Budapest. So we traveled 5 hours, into a new country, to have cake. But it was much more than that. It was a tribute to the family, it was a reconnection to Shannon’s ancestral homeland, and it was a great opportunity to see a new place and go on a new adventure.
When we got back, we went out to dinner and checked out the ruin pub district by our apartment.
Ruin pubs are a notorious hallmark of Budapest. The story behind them is they are located in the Jewish Quarter of the city. After WWII, many buildings were damaged throughout Budapest, the Jewish Quarter was one of the sectors hit the hardest. It was left in disrepair, so naturally an underground bar/restaurant scene took over. Old, decaying buildings began to be filled with bar stools, decorations on the wall, and food. It is literally an underground bar scene as the buildings and bars are mostly held in the basements of former apartment buildings, offices, and the like. We checked out one of the most famous ones called, Szimpla Kert. It was a wild array of lights, artifacts, weird decorations, and arranged in a not awful and loud and smelly way; as is sometimes common with underground overly decorated bars.
Our trip was full of stuff. We were out and about every day, so we decided to take the last day relatively easy. We woke up late, and wandered the city streets one more time. We came to the Grand Central Market and shopped around the food markets and handcrafted goods. We picked up some pastries for our walk, and some Hungarian paprika to bring home with us. We made one last stop back at the Easter market and Shannon did a bit of shopping. We enjoyed one more dinner out again and got set for our trip home the next morning.
The trip was eventful. It was restful. It was a restorative combination of relaxation and adventure. It was exactly what we needed to tackle the last stretch of school before we go off for the summer.
