Not long ago, Shannon and I went to one of the many many many malls in Riyadh. Malls are a big deal there. People go to eat, relax, ride roller coasters, and socialize. (Yes they have roller coasters) One day recently, we went to the mall to handle one of the many hurdles that inevitably occur in setting up your life overseas, the cell phone struggle.
It happened in Ecuador. Our phones didn't work. The sim cards didn't fit. We could only get prepaid. Postpaid was our only option. Whatever the issue was, we ran into it while living in Ecuador. Why should Saudi be any different.
I detailed this in our first post after arriving, but the school was kind enough to give us phones to start with when we arrived. They were functional, charged, and loaded with some prepaid credit. It was enough to help us set up our bank accounts and our lives, albeit in a limited capacity. However, they were also OLD phones. They were the kind that you had to perform coded messages of Morse Code in order to type out a letter. Tap 9 six times and you have a letter. Now tab 4 three times. It was that sort of deal. So naturally, we had to get rid of those and upgrade our setups with the phones we already had.
So off we went to the mall. Now I've already detailed the prayer schedule in a previous post. While I respect the practice and tradition, as a selfish person trying to run errands, it can be a bit difficult to navigate. We arrived at the kiosk for our chosen cell phone providers at around 5:15. We left right after school let out. As soon as we walked up to the counter, we heard the call to prayer. The kiosk shut down and told us to return after about 35 minutes. We wandered the mall to kill time. Which is all we did because everything was closed.
At the end of the 35 minutes, we went back to the kiosk and worked with the cashier to set up our accounts. Switch the sim card, check. Set up our payment, check. Reboot the phones to test them out, not so successful. Oh man. No luck. So the troubleshooting started. And stopped. The next prayer call started and they left again. Rather than leave this time, we waited at the counter so we didn't lose our spot in line.
When they came back, we started again. My account had been activated but just wasn't working. First, the phone worked, but the internet and texting didn't. Then we messed with it some more and the internet worked but the phone and texting didn't. We switched sim cards, rebooted phones, called tech support, and no luck. Shannon's account was listed as PENDING and just flat out wouldn't work. We spent the next hour and change trying different solutions until, yup, another prayer call.
We waited again in line (approaching 3 hours at this point) as our patience seeped out of us like steam from a kettle. When he got back, we started again. Also full shout out to the phone kiosk guy. He could have easily been rude or dismissive of us, but he hung in there and tried his best to help us. Anyway, as we were in our third post prayer break, fixing the phone, or trying to, a uniformed man (of about 19 years old) walked up to the attendant and said some stuff in Arabic in a really animated and demonstrative way to him. Then he looked at me and did the same. Reminder, at this point we have been standing at this kiosk for three hours. My patience was gone and I had no idea what he was saying, but he was saying it in a rude way. I looked at him with the face of someone not ready to make friends and lacking the necessary scope of circumstance and patience required for navigating the situation. I replied with a curt "What!?!" in English and Shannon, with her calm demeanor in the face of any situation asked what the problem was. He was visibly uncomfortable and didn't look at her or direct her. He looked at me and said some more stuff I didn't understand. He spoke to the attendant some more and left.
As it turns out, he was upset by the fact that Shannon was leaning on the counter. Apparently, by her leaning on the counter, (after three plus hours of waiting) she was behaving inappropriately. He came to address it with me because it would not have been proper to address it with her. We didn't know the full scope of the situation until Shannon discussed the whole thing with a woman at school the next day who confirmed what had happened. It was a moment of crazy culture shock for us. We didn't mean to offend anyone, and had no idea that what we were doing could even be considered offensive in any way to anyone. But that goes to show that one can't assume the customs of another. Also, we left without our phones working.
Friday, November 17, 2017
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Bahrain: Shots Fired
Our first trip out of the Kingdom was a professional development conference on assessment that we were told, coerced, influenced to, asked to, decided to attend. It took place over a weekend, so we weren’t thrilled over the prospect, but it seemed like an interesting and valid opportunity to develop our trade. We got our re-entry visas, booked our hotel and flight, and got ready to roll. Shannon and I were both asked to attend so we got to share a room in a nice hotel.
We were whisked away immediately after school on Thursday into a bus. After hopping on our flight, and a quick one hour jaunt to Bahrain, we landed and checked into our hotel. The hotel was nice and had a nice view of the city. One thing I have to say about Middle Eastern cities that I have seen so far is that they get creative with their architecture. The view from the hotel provided ample opportunity to appreciate the creative shapes incorporated in the buildings.
After we checked in, we went down to a restaurant in the hotel. We met up with a lot of our colleagues where some folks decided to partake in the one thing most forbidden in the Kingdom; eat pork. Bahrain does not have many of the same practices that many consider restrictive due to cultural differences in habits. While we were there, we noticed that aside from our contingency of teachers, the rest of the guests at the hotel were one of two types. There were many Saudi men, in their traditional thobes and red checkered scarves, partaking in libations in an environment where it was allowed. The other type were bikers. There must have been some sort of biker events going on that weekend in Bahrain. I lived in Florida for a while, this looked like a small version of Bike Week in Daytona Beach, but the bikers were almost exclusively Arab men. It was an interesting experience, and a diverse set of customers for sure.
The first day of the conference flew by and that after, we hopped in the car of a coworker who had previously lived in Bahrain for 3 years. We listened as he drove around, pointed out significant landmarks, and pulled up to a shawarma place on the side of the road, where they brought us delicious spicy shawarma. To those not familiar, shawarma is a shaved meat burrito of sorts, with potato, sauce, and veggies rolled up inside of a tortilla like wrap. Eating regional food always reminds me of the interconnected nature of all people and cultures. In my experience, nearly every culture has some form of burrito/shawarma, empanada, zatar, pierogi, etc. People know what they like! Give me bread with cheese, potato, and meat stuffed inside. I want to be able to hold my meal in a portable vessel! Anyway, unrelated, and I digress.
That night, we went into the city center with a different group of teachers that we hadn’t known well before. In a school as large as ours, with everyone as busy as they are, and preordained cliques of teachers forming early with each wave of new teachers who come through year to year, we don’t get to know everyone very well. Since 32 of our teachers went to the conference, it was a good opportunity to have a bunch of us in one place. We got to know some teachers well over the trip.
The next day, we caught a ride with the same teacher instead of taking the hotel bus to the conference. We figured we’d get a few extra minutes at breakfast, and have the freedom of not being squished on a bus with 100 other teachers. Of course, we got caught up in Bahrain traffic and showed up to the conference fifteen minutes late. We pretended no one would notice and snuck in the back of the workshop room. When we pulled up, we saw another car of our teachers showing up. About 10 of us were late in total. We locked eyes with their car and everyone simultaneously knew that if we beat the other group, we wouldn’t be the MOST late to show up. We fast walked through the school campus and I opened the door, hoping to sneak into the back room of our workshop. It was inevitable that we would be noticed, but I tried to be as sneaky as possible, hoping that maybe I could get to a seat just in time for the decision makers at our school to notice the people sneaking in behind me. Well, out of the 30 people in the room, 20 or so were from our school, and 10 of us were late. We were noticed. I felt bad, and was embarrassed. I’ll be sure to remember that feeling the next time I have some students try to sneak into my class late. These things happen.
After the conference, we toured the city/island/country a bit more. We went to a local mall and wandered around, where we saw more “forbidden” things such as movie theaters, Christmas holiday displays, and even a “winterberry tree.” It was a cool cultural experience to see the city and check out more of the region.
We found our way to the airport, having foregone any semblance of weekend rest, grading, lesson planning, or leisure time. We piled on to our plane, with about 25 of our teachers. I quickly fell asleep due to exhaustion, in an effort to combat the inevitable exhaustion to come the next day. It was just a short flight back after all.
I woke up just in time to hear about a slight “delay in landing” of no more than five minutes. We landed and walked through a relatively empty airport. Not thinking about it, we gave our re-entry visas to the appropriate officials, and we were quickly waved through the customs inspection line.
When we got our bags and got outside where we were to wait for our bus, one of the teachers told us that the airport was under attack. Let me say that again. The airport. That we were standing in. Was under. Attack. This is a jarring thing to hear. This, of course prompted a universal checking of phones, and as phones were connecting to our local cell phone towers, we were all hearing a symphony of pings from our text messages.
Background context. This blog is not the place to outline the complexity that is the web of drama that is geopolitics in the Middle East. However, the necessary context for this scenario is that Saudi Arabia and the current group in governmental control of Yemen, are at war. The war has been going on for a while. Even this scenario is more complex than that, without figuring in the alleged role of Lebanon, Iran, and other parts of the region. So for the sake of this story, in response to the ongoing war, the government of Yemen fired missiles at the airport in Riyadh, where we were standing. The goal was to attack a civilian target as a part of the ongoing war. So we were in the middle of it. The aforementioned delay was due to the fact that the Saudi government was in the process of shooting down the missile, thus delaying our landing. Apparently, the missile was successfully shot down. Shrapnel from the mid-air explosion landed in the parking lot area of the airport. There is a lot more to the story than that, but for the sake of this blog, and of our experiences, that is all that needs to be said.
Sufficiently freaked out, we got on the (by this time, LOOOOOONG overdue bus) and went back to the compound. It was late, and we were tired, so despite the fact that you could technically argue that we had, moments before, been in the middle of an act of war, we showered and went to sleep for the next night. Needless to say, my Global Politics class was significantly more interesting the next day as school went on as usual. It was a crazy trip, and a story that will probably live long in the pantheon of our overseas adventures.
We were whisked away immediately after school on Thursday into a bus. After hopping on our flight, and a quick one hour jaunt to Bahrain, we landed and checked into our hotel. The hotel was nice and had a nice view of the city. One thing I have to say about Middle Eastern cities that I have seen so far is that they get creative with their architecture. The view from the hotel provided ample opportunity to appreciate the creative shapes incorporated in the buildings.
After we checked in, we went down to a restaurant in the hotel. We met up with a lot of our colleagues where some folks decided to partake in the one thing most forbidden in the Kingdom; eat pork. Bahrain does not have many of the same practices that many consider restrictive due to cultural differences in habits. While we were there, we noticed that aside from our contingency of teachers, the rest of the guests at the hotel were one of two types. There were many Saudi men, in their traditional thobes and red checkered scarves, partaking in libations in an environment where it was allowed. The other type were bikers. There must have been some sort of biker events going on that weekend in Bahrain. I lived in Florida for a while, this looked like a small version of Bike Week in Daytona Beach, but the bikers were almost exclusively Arab men. It was an interesting experience, and a diverse set of customers for sure.
The first day of the conference flew by and that after, we hopped in the car of a coworker who had previously lived in Bahrain for 3 years. We listened as he drove around, pointed out significant landmarks, and pulled up to a shawarma place on the side of the road, where they brought us delicious spicy shawarma. To those not familiar, shawarma is a shaved meat burrito of sorts, with potato, sauce, and veggies rolled up inside of a tortilla like wrap. Eating regional food always reminds me of the interconnected nature of all people and cultures. In my experience, nearly every culture has some form of burrito/shawarma, empanada, zatar, pierogi, etc. People know what they like! Give me bread with cheese, potato, and meat stuffed inside. I want to be able to hold my meal in a portable vessel! Anyway, unrelated, and I digress.
That night, we went into the city center with a different group of teachers that we hadn’t known well before. In a school as large as ours, with everyone as busy as they are, and preordained cliques of teachers forming early with each wave of new teachers who come through year to year, we don’t get to know everyone very well. Since 32 of our teachers went to the conference, it was a good opportunity to have a bunch of us in one place. We got to know some teachers well over the trip.
The next day, we caught a ride with the same teacher instead of taking the hotel bus to the conference. We figured we’d get a few extra minutes at breakfast, and have the freedom of not being squished on a bus with 100 other teachers. Of course, we got caught up in Bahrain traffic and showed up to the conference fifteen minutes late. We pretended no one would notice and snuck in the back of the workshop room. When we pulled up, we saw another car of our teachers showing up. About 10 of us were late in total. We locked eyes with their car and everyone simultaneously knew that if we beat the other group, we wouldn’t be the MOST late to show up. We fast walked through the school campus and I opened the door, hoping to sneak into the back room of our workshop. It was inevitable that we would be noticed, but I tried to be as sneaky as possible, hoping that maybe I could get to a seat just in time for the decision makers at our school to notice the people sneaking in behind me. Well, out of the 30 people in the room, 20 or so were from our school, and 10 of us were late. We were noticed. I felt bad, and was embarrassed. I’ll be sure to remember that feeling the next time I have some students try to sneak into my class late. These things happen.
After the conference, we toured the city/island/country a bit more. We went to a local mall and wandered around, where we saw more “forbidden” things such as movie theaters, Christmas holiday displays, and even a “winterberry tree.” It was a cool cultural experience to see the city and check out more of the region.
We found our way to the airport, having foregone any semblance of weekend rest, grading, lesson planning, or leisure time. We piled on to our plane, with about 25 of our teachers. I quickly fell asleep due to exhaustion, in an effort to combat the inevitable exhaustion to come the next day. It was just a short flight back after all.
I woke up just in time to hear about a slight “delay in landing” of no more than five minutes. We landed and walked through a relatively empty airport. Not thinking about it, we gave our re-entry visas to the appropriate officials, and we were quickly waved through the customs inspection line.
When we got our bags and got outside where we were to wait for our bus, one of the teachers told us that the airport was under attack. Let me say that again. The airport. That we were standing in. Was under. Attack. This is a jarring thing to hear. This, of course prompted a universal checking of phones, and as phones were connecting to our local cell phone towers, we were all hearing a symphony of pings from our text messages.
Background context. This blog is not the place to outline the complexity that is the web of drama that is geopolitics in the Middle East. However, the necessary context for this scenario is that Saudi Arabia and the current group in governmental control of Yemen, are at war. The war has been going on for a while. Even this scenario is more complex than that, without figuring in the alleged role of Lebanon, Iran, and other parts of the region. So for the sake of this story, in response to the ongoing war, the government of Yemen fired missiles at the airport in Riyadh, where we were standing. The goal was to attack a civilian target as a part of the ongoing war. So we were in the middle of it. The aforementioned delay was due to the fact that the Saudi government was in the process of shooting down the missile, thus delaying our landing. Apparently, the missile was successfully shot down. Shrapnel from the mid-air explosion landed in the parking lot area of the airport. There is a lot more to the story than that, but for the sake of this blog, and of our experiences, that is all that needs to be said.
Sufficiently freaked out, we got on the (by this time, LOOOOOONG overdue bus) and went back to the compound. It was late, and we were tired, so despite the fact that you could technically argue that we had, moments before, been in the middle of an act of war, we showered and went to sleep for the next night. Needless to say, my Global Politics class was significantly more interesting the next day as school went on as usual. It was a crazy trip, and a story that will probably live long in the pantheon of our overseas adventures.
Fly Invasion
When we got to Saudi Arabia, we noticed that it was...hot. Like very hot. Like one of the hotter and least comfortable situations imaginable. Not quite the humid dripping terrestrial swimming of the Amazon Rainforest, but more of a dry, living in a crock pot kind of feel.
Anyway, we were told when we got here, that “It’ll get comfortable soon. October is comfortably cool.” In response we loaded up our back yard with lawn furniture, a grill, some grassy space and trees, and a general outdoor setup. The idea was we would be able to capitalize on the improved weather the moment it arrived. Sure enough, at the end of October, the weather shifted from “roasting on a spit rotisserie style” to tolerable. We quickly started to shift our social gatherings to our newly established outside space. We even hosted a huge BBQ complete with a Kan Jam tournament.
One thing they don’t tell you, along with the improved, cooler weather, is that the flies migrate to the desert in biblical, plague like fashion. Simple, everyday, black house flies. Nothing more than a nuisance. But man are they a nuisance.
They swarm, land, swirl, and buzz all around constantly. The desert air must make them either impervious to fear, or too dumb to realize that their slow flying airborne meandering leaves them susceptible to simple swats. Their lack of evasive maneuvers makes them easy to hunt down if necessary, but it also makes them oblivious to danger when they land on you. Any given moment two to three will land on your leg. With a quick swat in their direction or a leg kick, they fly away, and immediately resettle on your kneecap as if waiting for a convention. It is a level of determination unparalleled by any beast since the liquid metal guy from Terminator 2.
I’ll still take the cooler temperatures. The bugs are merely a small bother, but damn are they annoying. I’d rather wave off a million flies than a tarantula hawk from Ecuador or a swarm of love bugs in Florida, and I might have to.
Anyway, we were told when we got here, that “It’ll get comfortable soon. October is comfortably cool.” In response we loaded up our back yard with lawn furniture, a grill, some grassy space and trees, and a general outdoor setup. The idea was we would be able to capitalize on the improved weather the moment it arrived. Sure enough, at the end of October, the weather shifted from “roasting on a spit rotisserie style” to tolerable. We quickly started to shift our social gatherings to our newly established outside space. We even hosted a huge BBQ complete with a Kan Jam tournament.
One thing they don’t tell you, along with the improved, cooler weather, is that the flies migrate to the desert in biblical, plague like fashion. Simple, everyday, black house flies. Nothing more than a nuisance. But man are they a nuisance.
They swarm, land, swirl, and buzz all around constantly. The desert air must make them either impervious to fear, or too dumb to realize that their slow flying airborne meandering leaves them susceptible to simple swats. Their lack of evasive maneuvers makes them easy to hunt down if necessary, but it also makes them oblivious to danger when they land on you. Any given moment two to three will land on your leg. With a quick swat in their direction or a leg kick, they fly away, and immediately resettle on your kneecap as if waiting for a convention. It is a level of determination unparalleled by any beast since the liquid metal guy from Terminator 2.
I’ll still take the cooler temperatures. The bugs are merely a small bother, but damn are they annoying. I’d rather wave off a million flies than a tarantula hawk from Ecuador or a swarm of love bugs in Florida, and I might have to.
Halloween
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.
Carpet Party
One of the things this part of the world is known for is carpets. Persian rugs, magic carpets. These are symbolic of the region and can be found rolled and stacked in corners of souks, store fronts, or in this case, in the back of the van of a man from Jeddah.
The intricacies of selecting and buying good quality carpets are profound. From recognizing the style and region, to the dyes and raw materials used, to the tassels that finish the edges, to the number of knots used in the design - one could easily minor in The Art and History of Carpets.
Because there are so many carpets in the region, and not all of them equal in quality, it is good practice to educate one’s self on the criteria for what makes a good carpet. And if possible, to buy your carpets from a reputable source. In other words, you ask your friends if they “gotta guy”.
One of the teachers from school, it turns out, does “got a guy” who is from Pakistan originally but has lived in Jeddah for the past 15 years. Once or twice a year, she coordinates a carpet show for her friends and teachers on the compound and Mohammad loads up his van with carpets and makes the 2-day drive into Riyadh.
Justin and I were invited to the hostesses house for our first “carpet show”. I baked pumpkin scones for the occasion. Then we took a seat along the edges of the living room and waited for the show to begin, first with a brief introduction to the art of carpets.
Mohammed told us that he came from a family of carpet makers in Pakistan. He unrolled the first carpet and showed us the backing so we could see the hundreds of tiny knots looped there. A carpet of this size (approximately 5’x8’), he explained, takes three people sitting side by side close to 8 months to make. These carpets are woven by hand by members of a family. Some styles of carpets are considered “wedding carpets” and are knotted by the bride and her family as a gift to the marital home. Most carpets are made from wool, some are made from a blend of wool and silk, and others are made entirely from silk. The silk thread is so fine, explained Mohammed, that it is not uncommon for the carpet maker to slice and bloody their fingers during the weaving process.
After explaining the various techniques, colors, patterns, and styles typical of the many regions where these carpets are made (Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Russia), the show began. Assisted by his son, Mohammed unfurled one carpet after another in the center of the living room. He would name the region it was from, tell us how long it would have taken to make, and the price. Large rectangle carpets, long runner carpets, square carpets, and small carpets were piled one on top of another at our feet.
The procedure here is, once you see a carpet that you may be interested, you grab it off the pile and fold it up by your feet. This does result, on occasion, to a few amusing bouts of tug-o-war between two opposing carpet enthusiasts, but eventually once concedes and the prized carpet is added to the growing pile at the victor’s feet.
The mound of carpets on the floor grew steadily higher as Mohammed unrolled close to 60 carpets, each one unique and beautiful in its own right. The silk carpets are especially impressive, as they emit a subtle shimmer in the light and the designs are so fine you can’t imagine ever putting something so gorgeous on your floor. In fact, most of these silk carpets are hung on walls as works of art and not to be trodden upon.
Justin and I were the first to pull a carpet, a long runner dyed in deep reds, blues, greens, and golds, and featuring multi-colored tassels on the edges. The second carpet we pulled was a large Turk style rug in royal blue and dark red, with medallions repeating along the edges and down the middle. These carpets are so gorgeous and come in such unexpected color combinations that you don’t think twice about having to reimagine the entire color scheme of your home to fit the rug , instead of the other way around (Sorry, Justin! We will be repainting that wall soon…).
The third and final carpet we selected was a small 2’x3’ in golds and oranges. These small rugs, Mohammed explained are usually made by the younger children in the family. Using the left over scraps and materials from a larger, more sophisticated carpet, the children make smaller rugs as a way to practice their craft. So the knots may not be as tight, the patterns not as sharp, as they are essentially, “starter rugs”.
Finally, with the last carpet unrolled and a pile of rugs in the floor almost waist-high, it was time to make decisions. Now Mohammed removes a carpet at a time, rolls or folds them back up and you have a second chance to see them all and maybe make one last impulse buy. Then you can move to another area of the house to spread out your finalists and make your decisions. Needless to say we were swept up in the experience and purchased all three that we had pulled aside.
At home that evening, we placed our new carpets around the house and then took turns laying on them, and saying fun things like, “Oh, can you imagine we used to lay on common store-bought area rugs?! The horror!). But we literally laid on our magic carpet and watched Netflix for the rest of the evening. And maybe we’ll be eating Ramen noodles for the next month to offset the cost of these lovely rugs, but at least we’ll be doing it in style.
The intricacies of selecting and buying good quality carpets are profound. From recognizing the style and region, to the dyes and raw materials used, to the tassels that finish the edges, to the number of knots used in the design - one could easily minor in The Art and History of Carpets.
Because there are so many carpets in the region, and not all of them equal in quality, it is good practice to educate one’s self on the criteria for what makes a good carpet. And if possible, to buy your carpets from a reputable source. In other words, you ask your friends if they “gotta guy”.
One of the teachers from school, it turns out, does “got a guy” who is from Pakistan originally but has lived in Jeddah for the past 15 years. Once or twice a year, she coordinates a carpet show for her friends and teachers on the compound and Mohammad loads up his van with carpets and makes the 2-day drive into Riyadh.
Justin and I were invited to the hostesses house for our first “carpet show”. I baked pumpkin scones for the occasion. Then we took a seat along the edges of the living room and waited for the show to begin, first with a brief introduction to the art of carpets.
Mohammed told us that he came from a family of carpet makers in Pakistan. He unrolled the first carpet and showed us the backing so we could see the hundreds of tiny knots looped there. A carpet of this size (approximately 5’x8’), he explained, takes three people sitting side by side close to 8 months to make. These carpets are woven by hand by members of a family. Some styles of carpets are considered “wedding carpets” and are knotted by the bride and her family as a gift to the marital home. Most carpets are made from wool, some are made from a blend of wool and silk, and others are made entirely from silk. The silk thread is so fine, explained Mohammed, that it is not uncommon for the carpet maker to slice and bloody their fingers during the weaving process.
After explaining the various techniques, colors, patterns, and styles typical of the many regions where these carpets are made (Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Russia), the show began. Assisted by his son, Mohammed unfurled one carpet after another in the center of the living room. He would name the region it was from, tell us how long it would have taken to make, and the price. Large rectangle carpets, long runner carpets, square carpets, and small carpets were piled one on top of another at our feet.
The procedure here is, once you see a carpet that you may be interested, you grab it off the pile and fold it up by your feet. This does result, on occasion, to a few amusing bouts of tug-o-war between two opposing carpet enthusiasts, but eventually once concedes and the prized carpet is added to the growing pile at the victor’s feet.
The mound of carpets on the floor grew steadily higher as Mohammed unrolled close to 60 carpets, each one unique and beautiful in its own right. The silk carpets are especially impressive, as they emit a subtle shimmer in the light and the designs are so fine you can’t imagine ever putting something so gorgeous on your floor. In fact, most of these silk carpets are hung on walls as works of art and not to be trodden upon.
Justin and I were the first to pull a carpet, a long runner dyed in deep reds, blues, greens, and golds, and featuring multi-colored tassels on the edges. The second carpet we pulled was a large Turk style rug in royal blue and dark red, with medallions repeating along the edges and down the middle. These carpets are so gorgeous and come in such unexpected color combinations that you don’t think twice about having to reimagine the entire color scheme of your home to fit the rug , instead of the other way around (Sorry, Justin! We will be repainting that wall soon…).
The third and final carpet we selected was a small 2’x3’ in golds and oranges. These small rugs, Mohammed explained are usually made by the younger children in the family. Using the left over scraps and materials from a larger, more sophisticated carpet, the children make smaller rugs as a way to practice their craft. So the knots may not be as tight, the patterns not as sharp, as they are essentially, “starter rugs”.
Finally, with the last carpet unrolled and a pile of rugs in the floor almost waist-high, it was time to make decisions. Now Mohammed removes a carpet at a time, rolls or folds them back up and you have a second chance to see them all and maybe make one last impulse buy. Then you can move to another area of the house to spread out your finalists and make your decisions. Needless to say we were swept up in the experience and purchased all three that we had pulled aside.
At home that evening, we placed our new carpets around the house and then took turns laying on them, and saying fun things like, “Oh, can you imagine we used to lay on common store-bought area rugs?! The horror!). But we literally laid on our magic carpet and watched Netflix for the rest of the evening. And maybe we’ll be eating Ramen noodles for the next month to offset the cost of these lovely rugs, but at least we’ll be doing it in style.
Friday, October 27, 2017
Women Driving Change
When we first made the decision to move to Saudi Arabia, many of our friends and family members had questions and concerns. If I am being honest, many of the concerns were centered on the idea that Saudi Arabia has a reputation (at least within the US) of practicing cultural norms that are viewed by westerners as oppressive towards women. Some of the common customs pointed out include the mandate of wearing an abaya or covering of hair, supervision requirements of a male guardian, and driving privileges. This post is not about my own views on these practices or perceptions. I have learned long ago, that my interpretation or opinion of cultural practices needs to live in harmony with the rules, customs, and expectations of my host country, for it is a culture and country that is hosting me. That is not what this post is about. This post is about news.
In September, it was announced that women in Saudi Arabia would be allowed to drive. Saudi Arabia was the only country in the world to have such a restriction in place. According to the reports that I have read, the ban on women driving will be lifted in June of this year. The news gained international attention, praise, and acclaim and came to the forefront of news conversations globally when it happened.
This is a decision that has been well received by most international news outlets. To many, it signals a pending period of progress for social customs in Saudi Arabia. There are pockets of conservatives within the country who are against the ruling, but in my reading, and in my conversations with Saudi men and women, and students, it has been largely celebrated.
The move is framed as the first of many moves that will be made by current Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman who vows to bring a “modern state of Islam” to Saudi Arabia. Who knows what the next few months or years may bring. Uncertainty and change are the only omnipresent forces in politics. Look at the US federal government for proof of that.
The next few months will reportedly be full of adjustments. Some roads will be widened to account for more drivers. Policies and practices will be put into place regarding license acquisition in a country where single men and families travel on errands in separate lines and offices. Logistical problems will be identified and addressed. Plans will be put into place for full time chauffeurs whose livelihood depends on the fact that women don’t drive at the moment. TImes are changing for sure. We feel fortunate to be living in a place where changes are taking place and where conversations are being had about big picture social questions. Countries and communities are often so bogged down in their daily habitual decisions and practices that rarely to social groups, individuals, or governments take a step back and ask the questions centered on what is best for their citizens, their society, their people, and their country. Regardless of what you believe about the changes taking place in Saudi Arabia and from what perspective you examine those decisions, change is happening. We, albeit guests of this country, feel fortunate to be living within a community that is willing to ask the questions worth answering; questions meant to improve society. You can bet your ---that Shannon will be among the first women in Saudi Arabia to drive the streets of this beautiful desert-scape legally with a smile on her face.
In September, it was announced that women in Saudi Arabia would be allowed to drive. Saudi Arabia was the only country in the world to have such a restriction in place. According to the reports that I have read, the ban on women driving will be lifted in June of this year. The news gained international attention, praise, and acclaim and came to the forefront of news conversations globally when it happened.
This is a decision that has been well received by most international news outlets. To many, it signals a pending period of progress for social customs in Saudi Arabia. There are pockets of conservatives within the country who are against the ruling, but in my reading, and in my conversations with Saudi men and women, and students, it has been largely celebrated.
The move is framed as the first of many moves that will be made by current Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman who vows to bring a “modern state of Islam” to Saudi Arabia. Who knows what the next few months or years may bring. Uncertainty and change are the only omnipresent forces in politics. Look at the US federal government for proof of that.
The next few months will reportedly be full of adjustments. Some roads will be widened to account for more drivers. Policies and practices will be put into place regarding license acquisition in a country where single men and families travel on errands in separate lines and offices. Logistical problems will be identified and addressed. Plans will be put into place for full time chauffeurs whose livelihood depends on the fact that women don’t drive at the moment. TImes are changing for sure. We feel fortunate to be living in a place where changes are taking place and where conversations are being had about big picture social questions. Countries and communities are often so bogged down in their daily habitual decisions and practices that rarely to social groups, individuals, or governments take a step back and ask the questions centered on what is best for their citizens, their society, their people, and their country. Regardless of what you believe about the changes taking place in Saudi Arabia and from what perspective you examine those decisions, change is happening. We, albeit guests of this country, feel fortunate to be living within a community that is willing to ask the questions worth answering; questions meant to improve society. You can bet your ---that Shannon will be among the first women in Saudi Arabia to drive the streets of this beautiful desert-scape legally with a smile on her face.
Desert Food Trucks
So we’ve finally come up for air. We’re settled a bit. Our home has some stuff in it, our jobs are figured out a bit more, and the general stress that comes from moving across the world has subsided a bit. So I have an opportunity to talk about some of the cool and unique experiences we’ve had in our first few weeks, retroactively. The next few posts will outline those experiences.
On our second week, one of Shannon’s department coworkers threw out the idea that we caravan out for dinner at a little. A group of us (about 12 total) met at the front of the compound and hit the highway. After driving for about ten minutes or so, we came across a flat open field of sand. Which was very much like every other flat open field of sand because we live in a desert. The thing that made this flat sandy field interesting however, was the line of food trucks.
Similar to many other places in the world, these food trucks were set up in rows. The thing that made it unique was the sand and surroundings (obviously) but also the Persian rugs laid out on the ground in front of many of the food trucks. There were outdoor seating “patios” where you could sit and eat.
When we arrived at 8:00pm nothing was open. We had been told that Saudi was very much a night culture. Malls and restaurants were frequently open until very late. We found this to be true when we got to the food truck spot. We walked around for an hour scouting our options, as we were told many of them would open for business at 9. I would say the breakdown of trucks were fairly similar. There were a total of maybe 30 food trucks. Ten of them were selling burgers. Ten of them were selling shawarma. The rest were a mixture. There were salad and veggie places. There were many dessert and coffee spots. By the time things opened and we ate, there were only about 5 options open. The rest were supposed to open at some unidentified time.
At the shawarma place where Shannon ordered her food, she was served by two boys who were running their dad’s truck. One must have been 9 or 10 and the other no older than 13. Neither of them spoke any English and Shannon and I had limited Arabic; limited to pretty much “thank you.” They were very enthusiastic about helping us and adorable in how excited they were. Her shawarma ordering process amounted to him holding up an ingredient and Shannon nodding yes or no. Fistful of lettuce? Yes. Handful of onion? Yes. Questionable unidentified orange sauce? Sure, but only a little.
In the end, we ate delicious food picnic style on the ground. No one around us spoke any English, and none of us Arabic. We ate in peace with a few smiles shared with some of the other patrons. The food was fantastic, and the experience was unique.
On our second week, one of Shannon’s department coworkers threw out the idea that we caravan out for dinner at a little. A group of us (about 12 total) met at the front of the compound and hit the highway. After driving for about ten minutes or so, we came across a flat open field of sand. Which was very much like every other flat open field of sand because we live in a desert. The thing that made this flat sandy field interesting however, was the line of food trucks.
Similar to many other places in the world, these food trucks were set up in rows. The thing that made it unique was the sand and surroundings (obviously) but also the Persian rugs laid out on the ground in front of many of the food trucks. There were outdoor seating “patios” where you could sit and eat.
When we arrived at 8:00pm nothing was open. We had been told that Saudi was very much a night culture. Malls and restaurants were frequently open until very late. We found this to be true when we got to the food truck spot. We walked around for an hour scouting our options, as we were told many of them would open for business at 9. I would say the breakdown of trucks were fairly similar. There were a total of maybe 30 food trucks. Ten of them were selling burgers. Ten of them were selling shawarma. The rest were a mixture. There were salad and veggie places. There were many dessert and coffee spots. By the time things opened and we ate, there were only about 5 options open. The rest were supposed to open at some unidentified time.
At the shawarma place where Shannon ordered her food, she was served by two boys who were running their dad’s truck. One must have been 9 or 10 and the other no older than 13. Neither of them spoke any English and Shannon and I had limited Arabic; limited to pretty much “thank you.” They were very enthusiastic about helping us and adorable in how excited they were. Her shawarma ordering process amounted to him holding up an ingredient and Shannon nodding yes or no. Fistful of lettuce? Yes. Handful of onion? Yes. Questionable unidentified orange sauce? Sure, but only a little.
In the end, we ate delicious food picnic style on the ground. No one around us spoke any English, and none of us Arabic. We ate in peace with a few smiles shared with some of the other patrons. The food was fantastic, and the experience was unique.
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
Ladies Night Out in Riyadh
Last week I was invited to attend a dinner with the ladies from school. This is an annual event organized by a lovely staff member here. She reserved a bus for the 15 of us and we all met in front of the school right after dismissal, abayas in tow. We headed to Karam Beirut, a Lebanese restaurant, about a 40 minute drive from school, and made it in the doors right before prayer time.
We were seated at a long table in the center of the restaurant. You can imagine the noise and hullabaloo that 15 women can make on an evening out together, and I was a little embarrassed that we may have disrupted the few families that were enjoying a quiet meal before we blew in the doors, with our ponytails and wrinkled abayas and our unabashed laughing. Are we perceived as jovial and gregarious...or loud and obnoxious?
It is common for restaurants to have open seating, as we are accustomed to in the US but to also have private dining booths or even whole separate rooms, divided by a door or a curtain where a family can sit and the women may remove their veils to eat. Though I’ve noticed that some women actually manage to eat by just bringing a fork up under their veil and don’t need to remove anything. I guess the benefit to this method is that you don’t need to bother worrying if you have any food in your teeth. You can see some of these private booths along the sides of our dining table.
The menu, which had been pre-ordered and was to be served family style took about 45 minutes - due to our arrival at the start of prayer. But - when the food was finally served it was spectacular. Suddenly the kitchen doors burst open with 4 servers and the table was suddenly an explosion of salads and olives, pickled vegetables, tabbouleh and fattoush, hummus and babaganoush with pomegranate seeds, steaming fresh pita breads, stuffed grape leaves, grilled chicken, lamb and beef shawarma and halloumi (grilled soft white cheese). And that was just the main course! By the way, it takes a certain skill level to be able to successfully reach across a table of food to dip your bread in some hummus without also dunking the sleeve of your abaya in all the other plates on the way - a skill which none of us have yet mastered…
We sipped on mint lemonades with crushed ice and chatted and laughed so more (though quieter now on account of the mouthfuls of food. And then dessert was served - platters of baklava - sticky with honey and sprinkled with crushed pistachios. And something I’ve never had before - ashta which is a plate of clotted cream drizzled with honey and has the consistency of whipped fluff. Delicious!
There was so much food leftover that we all made “husband boxes” to bring home, so they could sample the feast that was this evening, a gesture which all the husbands surely appreciated.
On the bus ride home I got to chat with a few gals that I hadn’t really known before and that was nice. This was a fun excursion out with some ladies and it looks like we have a “Ladies Pizza Night” coming up in just a few more weeks!
We were seated at a long table in the center of the restaurant. You can imagine the noise and hullabaloo that 15 women can make on an evening out together, and I was a little embarrassed that we may have disrupted the few families that were enjoying a quiet meal before we blew in the doors, with our ponytails and wrinkled abayas and our unabashed laughing. Are we perceived as jovial and gregarious...or loud and obnoxious?
It is common for restaurants to have open seating, as we are accustomed to in the US but to also have private dining booths or even whole separate rooms, divided by a door or a curtain where a family can sit and the women may remove their veils to eat. Though I’ve noticed that some women actually manage to eat by just bringing a fork up under their veil and don’t need to remove anything. I guess the benefit to this method is that you don’t need to bother worrying if you have any food in your teeth. You can see some of these private booths along the sides of our dining table.
The menu, which had been pre-ordered and was to be served family style took about 45 minutes - due to our arrival at the start of prayer. But - when the food was finally served it was spectacular. Suddenly the kitchen doors burst open with 4 servers and the table was suddenly an explosion of salads and olives, pickled vegetables, tabbouleh and fattoush, hummus and babaganoush with pomegranate seeds, steaming fresh pita breads, stuffed grape leaves, grilled chicken, lamb and beef shawarma and halloumi (grilled soft white cheese). And that was just the main course! By the way, it takes a certain skill level to be able to successfully reach across a table of food to dip your bread in some hummus without also dunking the sleeve of your abaya in all the other plates on the way - a skill which none of us have yet mastered…
We sipped on mint lemonades with crushed ice and chatted and laughed so more (though quieter now on account of the mouthfuls of food. And then dessert was served - platters of baklava - sticky with honey and sprinkled with crushed pistachios. And something I’ve never had before - ashta which is a plate of clotted cream drizzled with honey and has the consistency of whipped fluff. Delicious!
There was so much food leftover that we all made “husband boxes” to bring home, so they could sample the feast that was this evening, a gesture which all the husbands surely appreciated.
On the bus ride home I got to chat with a few gals that I hadn’t really known before and that was nice. This was a fun excursion out with some ladies and it looks like we have a “Ladies Pizza Night” coming up in just a few more weeks!
Saturday, October 7, 2017
52 Days in Saudi Arabia
We have now been in Saudi Arabia for 52 days and I finally have a moment to sit down and reflect on all that’s happened and all that we’ve done. Since arriving here on August 15th, it’s been a whirlwind of moving in and setting up house, getting things like identification cards and cell phones, and of course - getting back into the classroom and teaching English again. There have been ups and downs and I’ll do my best now to try to recap the major events.
Arrival
We arrived in Riyadh at around midnight local time after approximately 24 hours of straight travel. Needless to say we were mostly brain numb and a bit disoriented. I thought I would have to put on my abaya (that I didn’t yet possess) as soon as I deplaned but this was not the case. Plenty of other women were walking around in normal clothes. I was afraid that I would possibly be looked at with unkindness or in the very least curiosity, but this was not the case. No one took any interest in another westerner at the airport.
While waiting for our luggage at the carousel I noticed a large advertisement for a fashion clothing company. The photo was cropped so that the woman’s head was not shown, so it was really just a tunic style blouse. But I notice the model’s bare hands had been blurred out and I found this strange. We collected our suitcases and were met right outside of customs by a welcoming committee from the school. They had two vans waiting for us and we climbed right in. I was still in my normal clothes, no abaya.
The First Two Weeks
This part is largely a blur of trips to the grocery store, trips to the hardware and home furnishing stores and everything in between to get our home set up and feeling like home. Since our villa was already fully furnished with an equipped kitchen and basic linens, these were superfluous purchases, but rugs and plants and colorful pillows go a long way in making a home more homey. We made fast friends with the other two childless couples we came in with, and the six of us stuck to close to each other during this time. Also, it was in the 110 degree range and going outside felt like sticking your head inside a hot oven and taking a deep breath.
The Abaya
The standard issue abaya was plastic-wrapped and waiting for me on our dining room table the night we arrived. Traditional black with buttons down the front from the neck to the ankle, this polyester garment is not the most conducive to running errands in the extreme heat. Also, every time I would bend down to look at something on the bottom shelf of a store, my buttons would pop open and I’d find myself hurriedly snapping them back up lest someone get an eyeful on my shins. There are several abaya shops in the malls that have glamourous couture abayas with gold embroidery or ivory satin trim, and I plan on treating myself to one of these soon. In the meantime, I did buy an upgraded abaya at a little Saudi National Day festival in our compound. This one blessedly is a zip-front, so no more popping buttons. Yay! I have not covered my hair once since we’ve been here and it doesn’t seem to be an issue. There are loads of westerners living over here and I think Saudis are just used to seeing us.
The Compound
I can’t say it’s not more than a little weird, living in a compound but it’s also quite nice and convenient in many ways. It’s like living in a really small town that’s condensed into one little area. The athletic center is top notch, replete with an indoor running track and swimming pool. And because it’s within walking distance, the majority of residents take advantage of the facilities and this is the fittest group of teachers I’ve ever worked with. People ride around on tricycles, and use the baskets on the back to carry school supplies, groceries, and even their small children. That’s another thing - 90% of the teachers here have children. It’s like “what you do” here. I can’t complain that there is a full-service spa on compound that is open 6 days a week and takes evening appointments. I’ve only been once so far but it was lovely and I will be taking advantage of this amenity for sure.
There was a moment about 10 days in where I was walking the two blocks from the school campus to our villa when I felt a chokehold of anxiety grab me and I felt trapped inside a compound where I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t drive away if I wanted to and I was just stuck. But this passed. Now we make frequent trips “outside the walls” and the feelings of claustrophobia have faded away.
The School
We are about four weeks in and I can honestly say I’ve never been professionally pushed so hard in my career. The expectations are extremely high but the staff rises to them. There are no slackers here. There are teachers here who love their craft and are dedicated to pushing themselves and believe in education. I have also never felt so managed in my life, in terms of tasks and follow up, and it’s been a struggle for me to adjust to that. But I keep reminding myself that this school is great for a reason, and maybe it’s these practices that have contributed to that. So, I’m trying. But there are times I have to bite my tongue. My teaching team is brilliant, sarcastic, and a bit eccentric - the way good English teachers should be, and I’m enjoying the collegiality. The teachers here work very, very hard. But they party just as hard. Like most teachers, really.
Being Back in the Classroom
I think I had more anxiety about this then I did about living in Saudi Arabia. Having been six years removed from high school and five years removed from classroom teaching, I doubted myself a lot. I definitely had a few freak out moments in the days leading up to and during the first week of school. But Justin talked me down from the ledge and soon I got my groove back and got right back into the rhythm of the classroom. I suddenly realized how much I had been missing the day to day teaching interactions and the relationships with students. Honestly, I’m loving it and I’m happy staying put for now. The students are extremely respectful and more self-disciplined that what I’m used to. This is the most international school I’ve ever worked at. Our students are multicultural and multilingual and it is so fascinating teaching them all and seeing what a wide world view they have. And I love the content - reading, analyzing, discussing, and writing about literature is what led me to teaching to begin with. So it feels really great to get to be doing that again.
Shopping
There are more shopping malls here than you can count. And they are luxurious. Going to the malls is a “thing” to do. There are really nice restaurants and coffee shops, makeup and clothing stores, and we even saw one that had a rollercoaster inside. We’ve made a few trips to the malls and they offer many of the same brands we have at home. However, women are not allowed to try on clothes (we can’t have women getting undressed in public…). So, you either buy your clothes and take them into the bathroom where you can try them on and then return them right away if they don’t fit. Or, you just take your chances. I’m told in the Kingdom Tower mall there is a women’s only floor where you are allowed to try on clothes, but I haven’t been there yet.
The People
Honestly, we’ve been so busy settling in and planning for school that we have not had many interactions with locals yet. I do hope to make some Saudi friends and attend some events beyond the compound, but this may take some time. Store clerks have always treated me in a respectful and friendly way and almost everybody here speaks English, so it’s actually a lot easier getting around and getting things done here than it ever was in Ecuador.
I think that summarizes things well up to this point. I did go out on a ladies night dinner last week, and I will post about that soon. But as of now, I am feeling settled and professionally fulfilled. We’ve made some great friends. Everyone here is genuinely very nice and welcoming and I really can’t complain. We are quite comfortable and settling in nicely. I do miss my family a lot and I can really feel the distance at times. But I am happy to be here and I look forward to this new reality!
Arrival
We arrived in Riyadh at around midnight local time after approximately 24 hours of straight travel. Needless to say we were mostly brain numb and a bit disoriented. I thought I would have to put on my abaya (that I didn’t yet possess) as soon as I deplaned but this was not the case. Plenty of other women were walking around in normal clothes. I was afraid that I would possibly be looked at with unkindness or in the very least curiosity, but this was not the case. No one took any interest in another westerner at the airport.
While waiting for our luggage at the carousel I noticed a large advertisement for a fashion clothing company. The photo was cropped so that the woman’s head was not shown, so it was really just a tunic style blouse. But I notice the model’s bare hands had been blurred out and I found this strange. We collected our suitcases and were met right outside of customs by a welcoming committee from the school. They had two vans waiting for us and we climbed right in. I was still in my normal clothes, no abaya.
The First Two Weeks
This part is largely a blur of trips to the grocery store, trips to the hardware and home furnishing stores and everything in between to get our home set up and feeling like home. Since our villa was already fully furnished with an equipped kitchen and basic linens, these were superfluous purchases, but rugs and plants and colorful pillows go a long way in making a home more homey. We made fast friends with the other two childless couples we came in with, and the six of us stuck to close to each other during this time. Also, it was in the 110 degree range and going outside felt like sticking your head inside a hot oven and taking a deep breath.
The Abaya
The standard issue abaya was plastic-wrapped and waiting for me on our dining room table the night we arrived. Traditional black with buttons down the front from the neck to the ankle, this polyester garment is not the most conducive to running errands in the extreme heat. Also, every time I would bend down to look at something on the bottom shelf of a store, my buttons would pop open and I’d find myself hurriedly snapping them back up lest someone get an eyeful on my shins. There are several abaya shops in the malls that have glamourous couture abayas with gold embroidery or ivory satin trim, and I plan on treating myself to one of these soon. In the meantime, I did buy an upgraded abaya at a little Saudi National Day festival in our compound. This one blessedly is a zip-front, so no more popping buttons. Yay! I have not covered my hair once since we’ve been here and it doesn’t seem to be an issue. There are loads of westerners living over here and I think Saudis are just used to seeing us.
The Compound
I can’t say it’s not more than a little weird, living in a compound but it’s also quite nice and convenient in many ways. It’s like living in a really small town that’s condensed into one little area. The athletic center is top notch, replete with an indoor running track and swimming pool. And because it’s within walking distance, the majority of residents take advantage of the facilities and this is the fittest group of teachers I’ve ever worked with. People ride around on tricycles, and use the baskets on the back to carry school supplies, groceries, and even their small children. That’s another thing - 90% of the teachers here have children. It’s like “what you do” here. I can’t complain that there is a full-service spa on compound that is open 6 days a week and takes evening appointments. I’ve only been once so far but it was lovely and I will be taking advantage of this amenity for sure.
There was a moment about 10 days in where I was walking the two blocks from the school campus to our villa when I felt a chokehold of anxiety grab me and I felt trapped inside a compound where I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t drive away if I wanted to and I was just stuck. But this passed. Now we make frequent trips “outside the walls” and the feelings of claustrophobia have faded away.
The School
We are about four weeks in and I can honestly say I’ve never been professionally pushed so hard in my career. The expectations are extremely high but the staff rises to them. There are no slackers here. There are teachers here who love their craft and are dedicated to pushing themselves and believe in education. I have also never felt so managed in my life, in terms of tasks and follow up, and it’s been a struggle for me to adjust to that. But I keep reminding myself that this school is great for a reason, and maybe it’s these practices that have contributed to that. So, I’m trying. But there are times I have to bite my tongue. My teaching team is brilliant, sarcastic, and a bit eccentric - the way good English teachers should be, and I’m enjoying the collegiality. The teachers here work very, very hard. But they party just as hard. Like most teachers, really.
Being Back in the Classroom
I think I had more anxiety about this then I did about living in Saudi Arabia. Having been six years removed from high school and five years removed from classroom teaching, I doubted myself a lot. I definitely had a few freak out moments in the days leading up to and during the first week of school. But Justin talked me down from the ledge and soon I got my groove back and got right back into the rhythm of the classroom. I suddenly realized how much I had been missing the day to day teaching interactions and the relationships with students. Honestly, I’m loving it and I’m happy staying put for now. The students are extremely respectful and more self-disciplined that what I’m used to. This is the most international school I’ve ever worked at. Our students are multicultural and multilingual and it is so fascinating teaching them all and seeing what a wide world view they have. And I love the content - reading, analyzing, discussing, and writing about literature is what led me to teaching to begin with. So it feels really great to get to be doing that again.
Shopping
There are more shopping malls here than you can count. And they are luxurious. Going to the malls is a “thing” to do. There are really nice restaurants and coffee shops, makeup and clothing stores, and we even saw one that had a rollercoaster inside. We’ve made a few trips to the malls and they offer many of the same brands we have at home. However, women are not allowed to try on clothes (we can’t have women getting undressed in public…). So, you either buy your clothes and take them into the bathroom where you can try them on and then return them right away if they don’t fit. Or, you just take your chances. I’m told in the Kingdom Tower mall there is a women’s only floor where you are allowed to try on clothes, but I haven’t been there yet.
The People
Honestly, we’ve been so busy settling in and planning for school that we have not had many interactions with locals yet. I do hope to make some Saudi friends and attend some events beyond the compound, but this may take some time. Store clerks have always treated me in a respectful and friendly way and almost everybody here speaks English, so it’s actually a lot easier getting around and getting things done here than it ever was in Ecuador.
I think that summarizes things well up to this point. I did go out on a ladies night dinner last week, and I will post about that soon. But as of now, I am feeling settled and professionally fulfilled. We’ve made some great friends. Everyone here is genuinely very nice and welcoming and I really can’t complain. We are quite comfortable and settling in nicely. I do miss my family a lot and I can really feel the distance at times. But I am happy to be here and I look forward to this new reality!
Friday, September 29, 2017
I.F.L-International Football League
This is going to be a short one, a bit of a rant. Time zones suck. They are practical, they make sense, they are annoying. They are especially annoying when you are a big sports fan. The problem with being a sports fan is that the events are live. You either watch them while they are happening, or you accidentally find out about what happen. Watching sports on a delay takes the magic out of it. It takes the communal experience out of fandom. It has been hard adjusting to that while living 7 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time.
This is a predicament I expected and knew was going to happen. However, it is much more stark when you arrive at the same time that the NFL season does. Living in the Middle East also means our work week is Sunday-Thursday instead of the Monday-Friday we have always been accustomed to. So when the NFL games come on during a nice relaxing lazy Sunday afternoon for the east coast of the US, we’re already a day into our work week, and the games start at 8pm. This is kind of cool for the first half of the early games, but if your favorite team plays in California and the game doesn’t start until 1am local time, that’s not so cool. Minor inconvenience, but still an annoying.
However, this past week, my beloved Raiders played the Sunday night game. It was slated to start at 8:30 EST. I usually wake up early for work, sometime around 4:45-5:00 most days. So I figured I would take the opportunity to catch my favorite team on one of the rare instances that I could. So I prepped a whole pot of coffee, got my alarm set, and woke up at 3:00am to watch the game. It was kind of cool. I was watching live, cheering on the events as they happened, halfway across the world. I watched the game in its entirety, finished my coffee, got ready for work, and then left to go teach. My exhaustion set in about halfway through the day. It was inconvenient, but led to a truly unusual and surreal sports watching experience for me. While the time zone difference has been annoying many times, in this case, I was grateful for the peculiar morning. The little things, the subtle differences, are what makes living abroad so interesting.
This is a predicament I expected and knew was going to happen. However, it is much more stark when you arrive at the same time that the NFL season does. Living in the Middle East also means our work week is Sunday-Thursday instead of the Monday-Friday we have always been accustomed to. So when the NFL games come on during a nice relaxing lazy Sunday afternoon for the east coast of the US, we’re already a day into our work week, and the games start at 8pm. This is kind of cool for the first half of the early games, but if your favorite team plays in California and the game doesn’t start until 1am local time, that’s not so cool. Minor inconvenience, but still an annoying.
However, this past week, my beloved Raiders played the Sunday night game. It was slated to start at 8:30 EST. I usually wake up early for work, sometime around 4:45-5:00 most days. So I figured I would take the opportunity to catch my favorite team on one of the rare instances that I could. So I prepped a whole pot of coffee, got my alarm set, and woke up at 3:00am to watch the game. It was kind of cool. I was watching live, cheering on the events as they happened, halfway across the world. I watched the game in its entirety, finished my coffee, got ready for work, and then left to go teach. My exhaustion set in about halfway through the day. It was inconvenient, but led to a truly unusual and surreal sports watching experience for me. While the time zone difference has been annoying many times, in this case, I was grateful for the peculiar morning. The little things, the subtle differences, are what makes living abroad so interesting.
Compound Living
Well, we’ve been here about a month and it has been everything we expected it to be. All of the strengths we expected are certainly present. The school is incredible. The level of accountability, professional development, and the ease of navigating systems that are all in place have all been positives for us. When we were searching for jobs, these were high on our list of priorities. The kids are incredible, although the kids everywhere are usually incredible in different ways. We are fitting in nicely from a professional standpoint. However, that’s not the main focus I want to address in this post. I want to address compound life, since it’s the area I had the most curiosity about when we set off on our journey.
Compound living is pretty great. But it’s also very peculiar. I’ll explain. First, I’ll address the stuff. I kind of listed some of it in the last post, but I’ll go more in depth here. It’s like living on a resort. All of the day to day amenities you might want are present. The facilities are all state of the art, accessible, and enjoyable. There are three pools, ranging from lap pools to resort style sitting pools, and everything in between, oh and they are building another one. The gym is huge, open all the time, and fully equipped. There is ample space for about 40 people to work out at the same time, although I haven’t seen more than 10 there yet. There is an indoor track so you can run in the air conditioning. There are two indoor tennis courts, and two indoor basketball courts, full court. There are indoor badminton courts, and indoor table tennis. There is childcare for the athletics center, a smoothie bar, and a spa. The spa doubles as a barbershop and salon for whatever you might need. And all of that is just in the athletics facility!If you stray across the street, you end up in another building that has a coffee shop, frozen yogurt shop, Persian rug shop, party store, bike shop, home goods store, grocery store, Burger King, Mediterranean restaurant, hotel, hotel restaurant, bowling alley, movie theater, and a game room with pool tables, fooseball, a gaming system, and a poker table.
Between those things alone, you can get by without leaving the compound if you choose to do so. Everything a person could want is already present. So that’s the stuff.
Now to the peculiarities. Everyone is everywhere. We are around the same people all the time. They are great people. We couldn’t ask for better. Truly. People here are friendly, helpful, and generous. It is an odd experience however to be surrounded by the same people all of the time. When we were in Ecuador, I described the relationships as having a family feel. I totally stand by that statement, and we still keep in contact with them. The difference between the community here and there however, is that in Ecuador, after the party or BBQ, people would drive home. Most people lived a few minutes away by car, or farther away. Here, when the party ends, we walk next door and go home. When we go to the grocery store, we see our coworkers. When we go to the gym, we see students. When we go get frozen yogurt, we see them all again. Again, I can’t restate how kind everyone has been and how great the people here all are however I am just making the point that it feels like a society unlike anything else I’ve experienced before. The close proximity an omnipresence makes things feel a little surreal. We are well taken care of. The amenities are plentiful and excellent. The people are great. But it definitely takes some getting used to. It almost feels like we’re living in the movie The Truman Show. The best way I can describe it is like living in a small bubble.
There are a lot of positives to this. For example, there is literally something going on every single night. We are never bored unless we want to allow ourselves to be. There are dinner parties, bbqs, movie clubs, book clubs, sports clubs, card games, and every other kind of thing you could think of. It’s all within a three minute walk. Plus, if we wanted to, we could even print on the school’s server since we’re close enough to be on school wifi!We will certainly experience some difficulties with compound life but in the meantime, we’re very happy. It’s taking some getting used to but whenever we get fed up, we will drive off compound and do a bit of exploring.
Monday, September 4, 2017
Transitions
Well, we’re here. A whirlwind summer has bled into a whirlwind transition and settling in process. After we said our goodbyes and ended our summer tour, we finally headed out to Riyadh. It seemed like a long time coming because it was. We made the decision to come to Riyadh on winter break of last year. We’ve been anticipating, thinking about, speculating about, asking questions about, justifying our decisions to everyone, and mentally preparing to go. That is exciting for a while, but after a certain amount of time, it’s time to just go. So while we enjoyed our summer tour, we were ready for routine, normalcy, and for our questions to be answered.
We set off from Orlando with a nice, long 20 hour trip ahead of us. After landing in Frankfurt, we made our way to our connecting gate where we saw a handful of other new teachers that we identified from our introduction newsletter. We made some small talk and exchanged introductions, while groggy and sleep deprived, before making our way to the plane for our final flight.
We arrived in Riyadh at about 11:00pm and found our head of school waiting for us at the baggage
carousel. It was nice to see a familiar face before making our way through to get our many many many bags and heading to our new homes. As we got through customs and immigration, we walked out into the airport itself and we were greeted by no fewer than 25 people in school colors, waving pennants and pom poms cheering. It was quite the welcome. After making a few more friends, I went to the bathroom for a quick stop before taking the bus to the compound. Prior to going in I was warned about the “washing stations” and the bidet hose. Noted. They weren’t playing. Bathrooms here have a full on power washing hose set up in each stall to...clean yourself thoroughly. That was my first observation of cultural difference.
We stepped outside and it hit us. BOOM. That’s what 105 degrees feels like. Well, at least it was dry. Then, we were loaded into buses and taken to the compound. It wasn’t more than a fifteen minute drive to the compound. Upon arrival, I wasn’t sure whether to feel safe or scared at the depth and comprehensive nature of security. The compound itself was surrounded by 25 foot high walls. As in plural. The walls had barbed wire at the top. There are retractable concrete barricades, many many armed guards, and a few other security measures on the way in. One half of my brain immediately went to a state of comfort and safety. The other half wanted to know what they were protecting against. The compound literally has more security measures in place than Jurassic Park. It was impressive.
The bus passed through all of the security measures and dropped us all off at our respective
apartments, villas, houses. The places are huge. We have a huge kitchen, four bathrooms, a big kitchen, two living rooms, and two bedrooms. Each room bigger than the next. The houses are plenty of space to raise a family. We were being provided with everything we needed on a personal level so we could focus our energy on our professional goals. They even loaded us up with starter groceries like bread, milk, eggs, cereal, sugar, etc. It was incredibly thoughtful and made us feel more comfortable with our transition. It was a long journey, compounded by a beastly time change, but we felt very well cared for and prepared for it.
Early the next morning, we took a walking tour around our campus. It is sprawling and state of the art. The school is entering its fourth year in the new campus and it is clear that attention was paid to every detail. The classrooms are spacious and conducive to flexible seating and learning. They are all equipped with tech tools designed to improve instruction. But, probably my favorite thing about the campus is the light. Every building has at least one wall made of glass. The natural light pours in and really brightens up the rooms. Speaking from the perspective of someone who has been in classrooms with no windows, and classrooms with windows that face nothing but a wall, I was appreciative. The campus was super impressive all around. Everything you could think of was built there. The gym has a rock climbing wall. There is a lap pool. The gym is gigantic. There are two library areas, one with a T-Rex skeleton. There are meeting rooms built for small armies. Space is abundant and well planned for.
After the tour of the school, we were taken on a tour of the compound, which was equally impressive.
This addressed one of our main questions. What was compound living going to be like? Would Shannon have to wear her abaya? (No) Would it feel cramped and stuffy? (Confined yes, but not cramped) Would there be options for leisure activities? (Yes, a huge gym, three pools, a basketball court, badminton court, indoor soccer field, indoor track, spa, barber shop, grocery store, movie theater, pool hall, bowling alley, and indoor tennis courts) Would we be able to eat on compound or would we have to venture away? (Yes. There is a grocery store, a coffee shop, ice cream shop, Burger King, Middle Eastern Restaurant, and a big hotel restaurant) As we explored, we got to clarify what life on compound was going to be like. Honestly, it feels like we live in a cross between a movie suburb and a resort. All things considered, not too bad!
After the compound tour, we did a short tour of the city. We took the cars we were given (!!) and
drove around the highways and to the local grocery store off compound. At the grocery store we quickly found that we would be able to get all of the western things that were not available to us in Ecuador. (Kraft Mac & Cheese, Starbucks, Captain Crunch, etc) The school and the compound have really done a nice job of making people feel at home despite physical distance. On the city tour we also discovered that Riyadh has its own set of traffic rules. In most places there are no lanes. People kind of weave in and out of space rather than lines. It’s rather interesting. The way I would describe driving here is...fluid. Traffic flows into and out of the space that is allotted in the roads. It flows around slower cars, or obstacles like water around a rock in a river. We’ve been fortunate in that we haven’t experienced a whole lot of traffic, since we’re still in a time of holiday around here and the city isn’t full yet from people returning from summer trips. The aggressive driving in Quito helped prepare me for anticipating the driving moves of others, so it wasn’t too hard to adjust. The city is pretty easy to get around in. Nearly everything in the city is designed as a grid. Everything is connected by highways and each highway has a designed u-turn area every mile or so. If you screw up, it’s pretty easy to right a mistake.
On the tour we also discovered that as westerners, we don’t stick out as much as expected. We frequently felt like the odd people out in Quito. Depending on where we were and what we were doing, we frequently drew attention simply by being foreigners in Quito. Not in a malicious or ill meaning way, mostly just through looks of kind curiosity. Here, we don’t stand out as much as we expected. We weren’t sure what that dynamic would be like. We theorized that since there are so many social differences between westerners and Arabic social norms, we might stand out a bit more. That hasn’t been the case. While Shannon wears her abaya out in public off the compound, she doesn’t cover her hair or face. We have yet to receive a funny look, hear a complaint of impropriety, or really get any reaction at all. In fact, while many women choose to cover their faces or hair, we were both surprised by the number of women who choose not to and simply wear the abaya, which is a large robe-like cover. I’ll let Shannon talk more about that when she makes her first post since that is more of her experience than mine.
On our first night, we had women knocking on our doors asking us if we wanted help with housekeeping. They sure do find out when people arrive, and they are ready to pounce. In our first three days, we had about 8 or 9 women coming to us looking for work. In addition, there is a similar market for labor jobs for men who offer their gardening services and car wash services. The first man who knocked offering car washing service told me he would wash the inside and outside of the car three times per week. I laughed at the idea of that. Even where labor was cheap in Ecuador, we wouldn’t get our cars washed more than once every two weeks. The man who greeted me that night told me most people do three times per week. I reached an agreement with him and he washed the car. The next day, but noon, the car was covered in sand and dust and desert. It was in that moment that I understood. Three times per week was a necessity if you wanted to be able to see while driving. It was cheap anyway. We agreed to have him come three times per week for 75 SAR per month (about $20). Not too shabby!
Our subsequent days were spent at welcome parties, exploring the city, and making trips out to IKEA to decorate our villa. We got our Iqamas (resident card) and I got my license. The school helped us with both processes which helped quite a bit. Rather than the process in Ecuador, the license process involved the men being taken to their version of the DMV with our US licenses, a passport photo, and our Iqamas. We waited in a waiting room while a school employed expediter helped spoke to the clerks at the office. After about five minutes we were ushered into another waiting room with about 600 other people. Another five minutes went by and we were told that we could leave. Our licenses would be delivered to school later in the day. No written test in the local language. No reaction time tests. No driving test. That’s it. Know the right guy, wait in two waiting rooms, and POOF! We were done.
We have also learned to navigate the world of daily prayer. As many of you know, the Islamic faith requires people to pray five times per day. The prayers are scheduled for specific times and have significant religious meaning. The times change slightly every few weeks to match up with the Islamic calendar. During these prayer times, mosques from around the city send out a call to prayer, which is often sung through loud speakers throughout the city. It is quite beautiful to hear and can be heard almost anywhere in the city from one mosque or another. During these times, business usually close. However, if you are in a store when the call to prayer comes, you do not have to leave. You may not cash out, but you can come and go as you please. So if you get to the grocery store as the prayer time is coming, you may shop through the store and check out as soon as the employees return from their prayer (about 45 minutes). This is a scheduling thing that was tough at first to navigate, but we have adjusted to. For example, we were working our way through the labyrinth that is IKEA when we heard an announcement that prayer was to begin in ten minutes. We needed about a half hour to finish our shopping, so rather than wait a full 45 minutes for the prayer to start and stop, we rushed the rest of our shopping so we could be finished in time. These have been rare, but minor inconveniences but these changes come with the territory of living in another country with another culture. We have both come to appreciate hearing the call to prayer and we’ve only been caught once or twice in situations that made the prayer time inconvenient for us.
That was all in our first week. Since then, we’ve hit the ground running with PD at work that was intense but meaningful. We have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, friendship, and kindness from everyone here. It has been a truly smooth transition. One of the reasons we came to this school was to be professionally challenged. We have already been challenged quite a bit, but with a guiding hand of support along the way. We’ve spent our time preparing for students (first day is Sept. 11 after the Eid holiday) and settling into our lives. We have been going to the gym a lot, playing basketball, hosting people for dinner, and going out to join others. We’ve had missions around the city to buy things to make our home feel like home. We are trying to balance all of the things that come with moving to a new country, with the things that come with starting a new job, and all of the things that come with making a bunch of new friends. We will be moving into a slightly larger villa in the next few days, so we will really get to feel like our move is permanent. In the meantime, we will keep updating as much as possible. Most public places have signs up frowning on photography, so in respect of that cultural norm, I haven’t been taking so many photos. The blog might contain less than normal for a while. I will post photos when possible. But we will document our transition and our story as it progresses. Things have been busy, and will continue to be as we continue to settle in. However, in closing I will say that we feel safe, happy, challenged, well looked after, and ready for this next adventure.
We set off from Orlando with a nice, long 20 hour trip ahead of us. After landing in Frankfurt, we made our way to our connecting gate where we saw a handful of other new teachers that we identified from our introduction newsletter. We made some small talk and exchanged introductions, while groggy and sleep deprived, before making our way to the plane for our final flight.
We arrived in Riyadh at about 11:00pm and found our head of school waiting for us at the baggage carousel. It was nice to see a familiar face before making our way through to get our many many many bags and heading to our new homes. As we got through customs and immigration, we walked out into the airport itself and we were greeted by no fewer than 25 people in school colors, waving pennants and pom poms cheering. It was quite the welcome. After making a few more friends, I went to the bathroom for a quick stop before taking the bus to the compound. Prior to going in I was warned about the “washing stations” and the bidet hose. Noted. They weren’t playing. Bathrooms here have a full on power washing hose set up in each stall to...clean yourself thoroughly. That was my first observation of cultural difference.
We stepped outside and it hit us. BOOM. That’s what 105 degrees feels like. Well, at least it was dry. Then, we were loaded into buses and taken to the compound. It wasn’t more than a fifteen minute drive to the compound. Upon arrival, I wasn’t sure whether to feel safe or scared at the depth and comprehensive nature of security. The compound itself was surrounded by 25 foot high walls. As in plural. The walls had barbed wire at the top. There are retractable concrete barricades, many many armed guards, and a few other security measures on the way in. One half of my brain immediately went to a state of comfort and safety. The other half wanted to know what they were protecting against. The compound literally has more security measures in place than Jurassic Park. It was impressive.The bus passed through all of the security measures and dropped us all off at our respective
Early the next morning, we took a walking tour around our campus. It is sprawling and state of the art. The school is entering its fourth year in the new campus and it is clear that attention was paid to every detail. The classrooms are spacious and conducive to flexible seating and learning. They are all equipped with tech tools designed to improve instruction. But, probably my favorite thing about the campus is the light. Every building has at least one wall made of glass. The natural light pours in and really brightens up the rooms. Speaking from the perspective of someone who has been in classrooms with no windows, and classrooms with windows that face nothing but a wall, I was appreciative. The campus was super impressive all around. Everything you could think of was built there. The gym has a rock climbing wall. There is a lap pool. The gym is gigantic. There are two library areas, one with a T-Rex skeleton. There are meeting rooms built for small armies. Space is abundant and well planned for.
After the tour of the school, we were taken on a tour of the compound, which was equally impressive. This addressed one of our main questions. What was compound living going to be like? Would Shannon have to wear her abaya? (No) Would it feel cramped and stuffy? (Confined yes, but not cramped) Would there be options for leisure activities? (Yes, a huge gym, three pools, a basketball court, badminton court, indoor soccer field, indoor track, spa, barber shop, grocery store, movie theater, pool hall, bowling alley, and indoor tennis courts) Would we be able to eat on compound or would we have to venture away? (Yes. There is a grocery store, a coffee shop, ice cream shop, Burger King, Middle Eastern Restaurant, and a big hotel restaurant) As we explored, we got to clarify what life on compound was going to be like. Honestly, it feels like we live in a cross between a movie suburb and a resort. All things considered, not too bad!
After the compound tour, we did a short tour of the city. We took the cars we were given (!!) and
On the tour we also discovered that as westerners, we don’t stick out as much as expected. We frequently felt like the odd people out in Quito. Depending on where we were and what we were doing, we frequently drew attention simply by being foreigners in Quito. Not in a malicious or ill meaning way, mostly just through looks of kind curiosity. Here, we don’t stand out as much as we expected. We weren’t sure what that dynamic would be like. We theorized that since there are so many social differences between westerners and Arabic social norms, we might stand out a bit more. That hasn’t been the case. While Shannon wears her abaya out in public off the compound, she doesn’t cover her hair or face. We have yet to receive a funny look, hear a complaint of impropriety, or really get any reaction at all. In fact, while many women choose to cover their faces or hair, we were both surprised by the number of women who choose not to and simply wear the abaya, which is a large robe-like cover. I’ll let Shannon talk more about that when she makes her first post since that is more of her experience than mine.
On our first night, we had women knocking on our doors asking us if we wanted help with housekeeping. They sure do find out when people arrive, and they are ready to pounce. In our first three days, we had about 8 or 9 women coming to us looking for work. In addition, there is a similar market for labor jobs for men who offer their gardening services and car wash services. The first man who knocked offering car washing service told me he would wash the inside and outside of the car three times per week. I laughed at the idea of that. Even where labor was cheap in Ecuador, we wouldn’t get our cars washed more than once every two weeks. The man who greeted me that night told me most people do three times per week. I reached an agreement with him and he washed the car. The next day, but noon, the car was covered in sand and dust and desert. It was in that moment that I understood. Three times per week was a necessity if you wanted to be able to see while driving. It was cheap anyway. We agreed to have him come three times per week for 75 SAR per month (about $20). Not too shabby!
We have also learned to navigate the world of daily prayer. As many of you know, the Islamic faith requires people to pray five times per day. The prayers are scheduled for specific times and have significant religious meaning. The times change slightly every few weeks to match up with the Islamic calendar. During these prayer times, mosques from around the city send out a call to prayer, which is often sung through loud speakers throughout the city. It is quite beautiful to hear and can be heard almost anywhere in the city from one mosque or another. During these times, business usually close. However, if you are in a store when the call to prayer comes, you do not have to leave. You may not cash out, but you can come and go as you please. So if you get to the grocery store as the prayer time is coming, you may shop through the store and check out as soon as the employees return from their prayer (about 45 minutes). This is a scheduling thing that was tough at first to navigate, but we have adjusted to. For example, we were working our way through the labyrinth that is IKEA when we heard an announcement that prayer was to begin in ten minutes. We needed about a half hour to finish our shopping, so rather than wait a full 45 minutes for the prayer to start and stop, we rushed the rest of our shopping so we could be finished in time. These have been rare, but minor inconveniences but these changes come with the territory of living in another country with another culture. We have both come to appreciate hearing the call to prayer and we’ve only been caught once or twice in situations that made the prayer time inconvenient for us.
That was all in our first week. Since then, we’ve hit the ground running with PD at work that was intense but meaningful. We have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, friendship, and kindness from everyone here. It has been a truly smooth transition. One of the reasons we came to this school was to be professionally challenged. We have already been challenged quite a bit, but with a guiding hand of support along the way. We’ve spent our time preparing for students (first day is Sept. 11 after the Eid holiday) and settling into our lives. We have been going to the gym a lot, playing basketball, hosting people for dinner, and going out to join others. We’ve had missions around the city to buy things to make our home feel like home. We are trying to balance all of the things that come with moving to a new country, with the things that come with starting a new job, and all of the things that come with making a bunch of new friends. We will be moving into a slightly larger villa in the next few days, so we will really get to feel like our move is permanent. In the meantime, we will keep updating as much as possible. Most public places have signs up frowning on photography, so in respect of that cultural norm, I haven’t been taking so many photos. The blog might contain less than normal for a while. I will post photos when possible. But we will document our transition and our story as it progresses. Things have been busy, and will continue to be as we continue to settle in. However, in closing I will say that we feel safe, happy, challenged, well looked after, and ready for this next adventure.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Summer '17
In one of our most recent posts, we detailed how we decided to forgo our shipment, and all that the hassle that entailed. After Shannon’s mom left with our suitcases, we were still left with quite a few things in our apartment. After all of the farewell parties, school paperwork, and selling all of our stuff, our next task was sorting through the rest of what was left. We had finite suitcases left, and...well...a lot more stuff than suitcase space. Out came the piles. We had to ask ourselves questions like, “What MUST come with us? What can we do without? What will we bring if we have extra space?” Spoiler alert, there was no extra space. Our “if there is space” pile went right into the donation pile. Then we repeated this process two or three more times until our piles were small enough to fit in our suitcases.
Once our bags were packed, we finally got to enjoy a bit of our summer. Shannon’s sister Meagan and her boyfriend, Ian, came to visit us after we got out of school. Shannon planned an elaborate farewell tour victory lap week of events. It was a really cool way to see a lot of our favorite things about the country before leaving for good.
When they arrived, we went to a hacienda near Cotopaxi National Park. We marveled at the abundant hummingbirds, (some as large as seagulls) and the volcano itself. We then had a classically trained chef bring us course after course in a hybrid Ecuadorian-European fusion food tasting. We were seated in a candle lit open room with a roaring fire, and a snow-capped volcano looming outside of the window. Our party was the only one in the massive dining hall. The chef drove up from Quito, about an hour and a half away, to prepare the feast just for us. It included things like shaved smoked trout in a nest of plantains (literally woven into a nest), wildberry salads, and local fruit sorbets. The dude literally went outside while we were waiting on a course to pick fresh herbs from the hacienda outside, in his fancy chef outfit and all. It was without a doubt the best meal I have ever had.
The next day, we woke up early and drove to Papallachta, a favorite spot of Shannon and I. We threw on our rain jackets and boots and set out for the infamous Papallachta hike. It’s usually rainy, and almost exclusively downhill. It starts at about 16,500 feet above sea level and works its way down. It’s a hike we have done about 5-6 times over the past three years, and one that we really enjoy. As we took our taxi up to the top of the mountain to begin, I realized that...maybe the weather was a little too intense for the gear we brought with us. Outfitted in rain jackets and thin pants was not enough. As we began our hike, the wind was howling, and a layer of snow settled in on the mountain, covering most of the path that we needed to follow. We powered through it and as we moved into hour two and three of the hike and we lost elevation, the snow dissipated as well. The hike was cold, wet, beautiful, and fun. We arrived and filled our bellies with fried trout, and took the rest of the day to soak in the volcanically heated hot springs. It was pretty great.
My uncle picked us up and we had a laid back day at his place catching up and telling stories. I had a
chance to see two of my cousins who were home from their college and jobs respectively. It was amazing to see them. I grew up very close to them both, and a lot of time had passed since we spent any time together. It was really nice to be able to hang out with them as adults. I also enjoyed introducing Shannon to some family members she hadn’t met yet. They loved her, of course. The next day, while in D.C. we met one of my cousins for lunch at a nice ramen restaurant. After that, we went to the Newseum and checked out their exhibits. It is one of my favorite museums in D.C. which is saying something, considering that there are at least 900,000 there. The following morning, we woke up to hop on a train leaving D.C. My uncle was kind enough to wake up early enough to get us to the train station by 6:00am. We rode the subway to Union Station, where we got in line to check in for our train. That’s where we discovered that I screwed up. Our reservations were for 8:00pm, not am...I am an idiot. Oh well. When we finally got on the train, we got some coffee and did some more homework for our online PD class.
When we got to Philly, my sister picked us up and took us to a friends house where we did some more homework, and then went out to dinner for our first wedding anniversary. Nailed it! We made it one year successfully. It’s crazy to think that insane week of chivas, bird fights, and the wedding happened a year ago. Anyway, we enjoyed a nice dinner together. The following day, we went to a Phillies game with a group of friends. On Sunday we woke up, went on a grocery run, and loaded up for our week in the beach house we rented in Ventnor. We spent the next week hosting various friends and family members on the beach. We grilled fresh fish every night, hung out on the beach every day, gobbled up some boardwalk delicacies like saltwater taffy and fudge, and hosted people for once. It’s hard to always be the guest while visiting. It was nice to be able to host other people for a change.
sisters. As soon as we arrived, we set our things down, got changed, and went up to the Village Vanguard for their timeless and infamous Monday night house band performance. We enjoyed a nice cocktail and some great jazz music for a few hours. The next day, we spent some time catching up on our reading and rest. In the evening, we took a train to Brooklyn and went to the J Cole concert. Shannon had arranged for the concert for a birthday present for me. We sat in a fancy suite and enjoyed a great show, along with some food. It was an incredible evening. The next day, we woke up and Shannon, her sister Meagan, and I went to Coney Island where we spent the day trying out the various food delicacies, playing carnival games, and hanging out. The following day, our flight back to Florida was canceled. We spent some extra time with Shannon’s sisters and hung around NYC for the day. I am the rescheduled flight right now heading to Orlando. We will have about a week left in our summer before shipping off to Riyadh. We are both looking forward to NOT traveling much in the next week. We are both excited to go, exhausted from our travels, and ready for the next step. By my estimation, including our trips to Cotopaxi, Papallachta, the Galapagos Islands, Orlando, Miami, Washington D.C., Philadelphia, New Jersey, New York, and back to Florida, we have traveled about 6,139 miles. That’s in about 6 weeks.We will update everything when we get to Riyadh and we get settled. I’m sure we will have a lot to talk about. It’s been an interesting summer, and it will continue to be one as we transition to a new country on the other half of the world.
Despedida
As I reflect on the last three years in Ecuador, I find myself filled with gratitude, humility, and a little sadness. It’s hard to believe that three years have passed since we first made the leap into international teaching, and now we are on to our next post. Living in Ecuador changed me in ways I did not expect. I have found that my entire perspective has changed. My world view has expanded in a way I could not have predicted. I feel so grateful that I have had this opportunity, and humbled by the prospect of learning and appreciating even more about the world, its landscapes, its people and their cultures.
So, what did Ecuador teach me?
Family. A different way to look at big families and the joys of large extended families doing everything together. Abuela comes everywhere! She is in the car when you drop the children off at school. She is at home when the children come home from school. She is in the kitchen cooking arroz. She is coming along for grocery shopping and she is going down to the beach with the whole family - even if they have to pick her up in her wheelchair and carry her down there.
Kisses! Kisses hello. Kisses goodbye. Parents kissing the children goodbye - several times, all over the face, even when they’re just leaving for a few hours of Pre-K. Kissing strangers. Little boys shyly kissing cheeks of his mother’s friends.
Dancing. There is a reason why Latinos are such good dancers. They listen to salsa and bachata music all day, and at every sort of event. They begin dancing as babies. I have seen this with my own eyes. True, the infants are being held up by adults as their arms and legs are moved for them in tune to the music, but the point is they are learning the rhythm before they can talk. Learning to dance is as much a part of infanthood as is learning to walk. Every single event ends in dancing. The American style “party” - where we sit around and eat chips and drink and talk, and maybe play some cards? Ecuadorians cannot for the life of them understand how we consider that a “party”. How incredibly boring! The word party implies dancing! How can you have a party without dancing?
Early childhood education. If it had not been for this school in Ecuador, I would not have had the
-ita/-ito. The diminutive of everything you hold precious and dear. Would you like some coffee or some cafecito? Do you have a question or a preguntita? Do you need a minute or minuntito? Calling someone fat is actually a term of endearment, if you make it a goridito or gordita. Same with negrita. Is this for the children or the niñitos? Do you want a little bit or poquito? Are you going out with your friends or your amiguitas? Paola is Paolita, Juan is Juanito, Shannon is Shannoncita, and despacio is despacito.
Mountains. Before moving to Ecuador I never spent anytime living around, or even really seeing mountains. There is something incredibly peaceful and meditative about being able to look out at the horizon and see miles and miles (or in this case, kilometers and and kilometers) of vast mountain ranges, some snowcapped, some whose peaks are hiding behind clouds, some who block the sun, some who are covered with a green patchwork of agricultural fields, others who are rocky reds and browns. What’s really cool about living in the valley of a mountain range is seeing how the sun changes and reflects off of different surfaces. You can look to the left, and see the face of a mountain that is dark green and grey, shaded by clouds overhead and then look to the right and see a different face of the same mountain that is a vibrant and glowing emerald green and realizing that it’s all the same mountain, but changes colors because of how the sun and clouds are hitting it at a particular time. And then minutes later, the colors change again as the clouds sweep by.
I will always think of Ecuador as a special place. It was my first experience living overseas. It was the place I got engaged, and then married. I think fondly of the school that started this adventure for us - of the friends we made there and the amazing trips we took while living there. And I miss it already. I feel sad to being saying goodbye to Ecuador but so grateful of our time there and of the things I will carry away with me.Now, as we are just four days away from moving to Saudi Arabia I wonder what this new country and people will teach me and how my world perspective will continue to mature and expand.
And so, Ecuador, as we say “farewell” I dedicate this to you...
From now on I will say good morning to people, even if they’re strangers.
I will appreciate when I see whole families out together - even if they’re just buying eggs, and even if they’re taking up the entire shopping aisle.
I will consider returning to an elementary school one day.
And I promise to dance at parties.
¡Despedida, Ecaudor! ¡Besos y un gran abrazo!
-Shannoncita
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