Field Trip: Manila

Week Without Walls is a popular program in international schools. Many schools have a designated week where students go to another city, village, or country for a week. These programs have different goals. Some are meant to teach leadership skills, others are more service based. In the past, while we were working in Ecuador, I was a part of two Week Without Walls programs, to mixed levels of success. This year, we both were involved and we just got back. 

Our students' options for 9th grade included Romania, Switzerland, and Sri Lanka. Our 10th graders were given the choices of Thailand, the Phillipines, Nepal, and Cambodia. Early in the year, an email was sent out to teachers to gauge interested in chaperoning these trips. Shannon and I both volunteered and told the school that we would be interested in any trip option. Not long after, we were approached about going on a trip together. We agreed, and were told that we were going on the trip to Manila. 

As the weeks passed, our colleagues told us that the Philippines trip was "one of the worst" from the standpoint of reputation and perception as being the trip that the "bad" kids went on. We quickly replied that this school's "bad kids" were in fact, no problem to us. 

As the trip approached, we had a few meetings where we discussed our itinerary, our expectations for students, and behavior guidelines. Each of these meetings got louder and louder and students who I regularly saw as quiet and polite in class, morphed into beasts of some sort of wild pack. They, at their worst, were still nothing in terms of behavior problems compared to students we had taught in the past, but it was clear that this trip was going to have some serious highs and lows from that standpoint. As the weeks went by, we ignored email after email regarding preparation and planning. We ignored all recommended vaccinations, and all of the sudden, our trip was upon us. We backed some bags and hit the airport. 

We got to the airport on Friday afternoon and the six chaperones shepherded 36 students through

check-in and baggage drop off. We collected and redistributed passports and Saudi entry/exit visas seemingly every ten minutes until we got them to the gate. When it was departure time, we did a quick headcount, and after seeing that we weren't missing any, proceeded to the flight. 

Our flight there was a 10 and a half hour direct trip. There were babies crying, students switching seats, constant chattering, screaming, and general frustration. Passengers from our plane complained to the flight attendants about our students multiple times, and after a few conversations with them, we were able to get them to go from "unruly and frustrating" to "annoying but tolerable." That in conjunction with a mid-flight manic attack from a student resulted in a long night. 

When we got to the airport in the Philippines doning our school issued trip shirts, I was quickly told by a local man that the symbol and image on our vertical Philippines flag on our shirt, as displayed, actually represented the word "war." How appropriate. We wrangled the kids through customs, baggage claim, and currency exchange. Basically, we did all of the things people hate about traveling, compounded by 36 students. It was frustrating, but we got it done. 

Since we were there too early to check in to our hotel, our first stop was to a mall where the teachers

let the kids wander and had a meal to themselves. After a bit of time wandering, we went to the hotel and then had a presentation. We were partnered with a local NGO whose job was to help build communities through guidance programs, occupational training, and house building. We heard all about the program and its goals, and our students eagerly looked forward to the next day when we would start work. 

As the next day came, we set off to the village. When we got there, there was a welcome dance prepared by the community's children. The community had representatives speak to us about their village and the program had representatives as well. After they were done, our students were led through 5 stations as a part of an "Amazing Race" style contest which focused on incorporating customs and traditions of our hosts, with team building activities. We had students eat boiled duck eggs, that in my opinion, were way too developed, as they had fully formed wings and bones. After that, we enjoyed a lunch prepared by the village and our kids spent the rest of the time playing with children from the village. I myself participated in playing basketball with some village teenagers. We played on an old rim made of bent rebar and their kids destroyed the children from our school. The rest of the afternoon was spent profiling the type of work we would be beginning the next day. 

After that, we went back to the hotel and got showered up. We went to dinner at a mall across the street from our hotel. At night, when curfew time arrived at 9:30pm, the chaperones taped the doors shut for the students so we could tell who left throughout the night. 

In the morning, we woke up to an early breakfast and went to the village again. When we got there, we set off to different job stations. One station involved digging in a giant pile of rocks, using a hollowed out bucket to bag the rocks, and moving them to a center cement area. Another group did the same with a giant pile of sand. Another group, a bit larger, went to an empty field, and worked on digging trenches with shovels, and pick axes. The trench would later be used as a foundation to pour concrete into. That first day of work resulted in whining, complaining, dirty teenagers, and even a little bit of hard work. A few of them even ended up with some blisters. After explaining what those were, we looked back on our work and whether due to the sheer number of workers, or my relentless shaming of those students who needed 9+ 20 minute breaks throughout the four hour work day, we got a lot done. I had to remind myself throughout the day, that this was the first time for many of our students, that they had done any form of manual labor. Most of them were born with multiple nannies, maids, drivers, landscapers, and a whole staff who did this work for them. We even had a students, who is a part of a prominent family here, bring along a bodyguard to shadow him throughout the trip. It was a reminder as to who our students were, and how unaccustomed they were to doing this type of work.

That night, I took a group of students with another chaperone to the mall again. We had some dinner

and then went to see the movie, Black Panther. Since Saudi doesn't have movie theaters yet, my group was quite large, and quite excited. We enjoyed the movie before making it back to the hotel for curfew, and of course, the ceremonial taping of the doors. 

The next day was another work day, with increased effort, decreased whining, and even more accomplished. That day, we added in some concrete mixing. The students learned about mixing rock, water, sand, and instant concrete mixture. They transported the concrete using buckets and a human chain, and even laid some out and smoothed it. Only a few kids got heat stroke! It turns out grueling work+Mountain Dew+Flaming Hot Cheetos-water=passing out. Who knew?!

The following day, we took a bus to an inlet, and took motorboats to an island where we hiked a volcano. As we went up the side of a volcano, we saw steam spouting out of vents. The 25 minute hike resulted in three more students passing out due to lack of nutrition and water again. One was even taken to a local hospital. It was a hot mess. The students who made it up without incident, however, enjoyed the hike, and being in nature. Shannon had to explain to one that leaves falling on him from a tree were in fact, not harmful. Some of our students have such limited exposure to...outside. 

That night, a group of students who had raised money for the village through independent bake sales, and fundraising, went to the mall with me and another chaperone and decided to buy a bunch of toys for the kids, and a new basketball hoop, not made of rebar. Their fundraising and generosity was inspiring to me, and to the other chaperones. 

The next day was another workday. We mixed cement. We played music. We hung out with the kids. We had a great lunch of fried fish, mangos, rice, and vegetables. We spent more time playing with the kids and some even gave the kids in the village henna tattoos. It was a great bonding experience. In the afternoon, after we finished the work, we assembled the new hoop, which they loved, and played a few games of basketball with them. It was a transformative experience for me as a whole, and hopefully one for the kids as well. 

On our final full day, we went by ferry to Corrigedor Island. The island was a hub for military outposts throughout its history. It served as a primary strategic location for the US troops during WWII. It served as a military hub in the Pacific campaign. We toured old historic barracks, weapons, tunnels, and a fort. We saw some museums dedicated to those who fought and lost their lives in the war. We saw a monument focused on General MacArthur's time there, and another museum that focused on horrific treatment of people during war. It profiled Nazi concentration camps, local treatment of Filipinos by Japanese soldiers, and other atrocities. It was informative, upsetting, and important. 

The next day, we set off, after 8 days abroad. We brought back all 36 kids, without having lost any. No one was badly injured, and hopefully all of them were changed, at least a little bit, by the hard work they endured, by the poverty they saw, by the connections they made, and by their experiences. I had an incredible time with our students. I made stronger connections with my students. I met new people. I had new experiences. I got to push some students to do some things that they don't normally do, and I got to share frustrations, triumphs, and another adventure with Shannon. 

An Ode to Jeff

I may have mentioned this in a post prior. In fact, I think I did when we first made the decision to leave the US and come overseas. Living overseas is awesome. It is a lifestyle that has been very good to us. There are many adventures, travels, weird quirky events that couldn't happen elsewhere or in any other circumstance. But it's not all great. The hardest part of living as a guest in another country is being so far away from your own home. From your own family.

Last February all of the previous paragraph came to fruition. We were on break for Carnival and we were traveling from Chile to Argentina to Uruguay. It was a great plan. There was great food, hiking, and all of the adventure stuff. However, as we landed in Argentina, I got a phone call in the airport. My stepdad had died suddenly. Well, really my dad.

Without going to far into detail on this, because it is irrelevant to the story, my sister and I have been without the presence of our biological father for about 20 years. We saw him last when I was in fifth grade. I mention this to highlight the fact that during that time, in fact right around fifth grade for me, my mom started to date a man named Jeff.

It was a grand love story and one that I simply cannot due justice on a blog. But the relevant information is this man, who was a commercial fisherman by trade, a blue collar worker with a generous heart, a sometimes short temper, and always a caring and good person, entered our lives 20 years ago. With no obligation to me, no duty, not responsibility, he did his best to be a father to me and my sister. He went fishing with me. He played basketball with me, poorly, but he still did it. In fact, that might be the point. He went out of his way to be the person I needed him to be. He did the same for my mother and my sister.

He was a good man and during my adolescence as a trouble-making teenager (only at times), as a young man, and as an adult. He did his best to guide me along the way as if I were his own son. We had arguments; even a fight or two if I'm being honest. But he did his best to be his best for us. When I needed to learn the value of hard work, and I needed money to pay for my car, or my books for college, he was there to show me how to work hard. He took me under his wing as a commercial fisherman and showed me what real work ethic was. We worked side by side for 20 hour shifts. I fell, he laughed, then he helped me up; time and time again. He showed me a lot because he was a great man.

We were very different people. His interests and my own rarely intersected. But there was always mutual respect and mutual appreciation for one another. One of the areas that we found common ground was our interest in sports. Jeff was a Philadelphia sports fan in all sports. As a man who grew up in Pennsylvania, and who made his home just a short ride from Philadelphia, he felt strongly about his teams. We would often go to games together. But despite this overlap in interests, we still rooted for different teams. He was an Eagles fan through and through, something that I just simply was not.

I write this blog post as a cathartic means for hashing out my own thoughts on the matter. In fact, when he passed away, Shannon and I got on the next flight, flew 10 hours from Argentina to Mexico City, spent a night there because we couldn't get out sooner, then woke up at 3am to fly to NYC. We attended his funeral service, I gave his eulogy. Then we quickly were rushed back down to Ecuador. While there, I didn't allow myself to grieve properly. I felt the need to be the support for my family. Then, when I got back, I busied myself with work to distract myself, then we were busy with moving away from Ecuador, busy moving to Saudi, busy getting used to a new country and new people, busy with life. I never had an opportunity to think through, in adequate means, what he meant to me, what it meant that he was gone, or what it meant to be so far away from family. But I did on Super Bowl Sunday this year.

From the moment the Eagles started winning games early this season, I thought of Jeff. As they won game after game, I felt this sense of hope that they were going to win the championship, for him. As heavy underdogs, they won game after game. Eleven months after Jeff's passing, I realized that he would never be able to cheer his team on. He would have gone the duration of his whole life without having seen his favorite team be the ultimate team. He would never be there to take joy in the small things that make life feel like life. It was poetic timing that the Eagles made the Super Bowl.

When the day arrived, I woke up early. I had invited friends over to watch the game. To the best of their knowledge, it was just the Super Bowl. It was a game that they, as red blooded Americans, HAD to watch. To me, it was something more. I don't know that I can put it into words. Perhaps it was some sort of divine coincidence. Perhaps it was symbolic. But it didn't matter. To me, it was a three hour block of time, where I thought about Jeff. I gave him his due. I sat there, with the game on thinking about his botched layups he took in an effort to connect with me. I thought about how we nearly died one time on a fishing boat, 200 miles off the coast of New York, when our boat caught on fire, days away from anyone who could help. I thought about the day he and my mom got married. I thought about the day I met him as a punk kid with spiked hair and an attitude. I thought about how he taught me how to drive. I thought about how he taught me how to do terribly irresponsible things like donuts in our car in empty (mostly) parking lots. I thought about everything he meant to my family; to me.

Super Bowl Sunday of this past year started for us at 2:00am. So goes the time difference. I woke up early and cooked everyone waffles. I made coffee. I cheered on the Eagles. I enjoyed the game. I enjoyed the opportunity that was long overdue, to set some time thinking about a person who meant a lot to me and who in a lot of ways, defined who I became as a man.

The Eagles won. They played a great game. It was emotional for me. I experienced the drama of a great game, and of a victory. I rooted afar for a team that was never my own at a time of day that I swore never to see again after I finished college. I thought of my friends and family members who grew up in the shadow of Philadelphia as I had. I felt joy for them. I thought of Jeff. I wish he could have seen it. But either way, I finally did my part in saying goodbye.

Fire Nights

One of the biggest misconceptions I had about moving to Saudi Arabia was the weather. I assumed that because it was in a desert and obviously very hot, that it would be hot all the time. I resigned myself to a notion of Saudi weather that was a dry version of Florida weather. In response, I was mentally prepared for 10 months of unbearable, face melting heat, with two months of comfort to look forward to where it would only be hot. We were coming from Ecuador where it was consistently cool in the mountains, so we were expecting even further shock to our systems by moving to Saudi.

Our first few months proved that the face melting heat was a real thing. We only have a 100 step commute to work, but we would frequently arrive with a nice sweat sheen by the time we got to the refuge of air conditioning. Yet, once November hit, it was flat out delightful. The days hovered in the 75-80 range, the nights a cool 50-60. It even got cold for a few months. I had to break out a sweater at work on a few occasions.

In an effort to take advantage of the lovely temperature before it gets to face melting status again, we have outfitted our backyard area with a nice grill, a comfortable outdoor couch, and a fire pit. We have spent many a night in the back yard, with our sliding glass doors to our living room open and a movie projected on the wall. Outdoor movies, bonfires, and BBQs aren’t a bad way to take advantage of the weather in the few months that it is bearable.

I don’t anticipate we’ll have much longer to enjoy it, but in the meantime, Saudi has proven to be quite a pleasant surprise, and we’ve found that outdoor backyard comfort is a real thing that we can look forward to moving forward.

Trading Places

One of our favorite things about our new school is the fact that they place a high focus on the development of the whole student, rather than merely focusing on curriculum. They have put systems in place to help guide students with emotional, physical, and character growth issues. In this light, our school has adopted a policy of a theme every year. This year’s theme focuses on the idea of compassion.

Throughout the year, we have focused school assemblies, activities, community events, and even classroom lessons on the aspect of compassion, and the focus of growing compassion within our school community. I specifically say our school community because it’s not just the students who are targeted with the focus of developing compassion. School administration, teachers, and staff members are a part of this growth process too. While our students have character education lessons and community service involvement tied to the theme of compassion, the teachers approached it from a different lens. Our task was very literally to step in the shoes of another teacher to develop our own appreciation for the various roles of staff members from across our school. At least, this is the justification I have come to understand, and the reason that for a day, that long long day where I became a third grade teacher for a day. We would be living the movie Trading Places for a day.

Prior to 3 Day (chosen by me for its resemblance to D Day), I was absolutely intimidated. Throughout my career, I have taught middle school or high school students. I chose those age ranges for a multitude of reasons. I find that I can utilize my own sense of sarcastic humor in class with them, I identify with some of their personal interests, and I can relate to them on a different level than I ever could with a younger kid. When I heard about my matchup with a third grade class, I instantly had visions of all of the horrors depicted in the movie Kindergarten Cop.

About a week prior to the swap, I visited her class to see the kids I would be teaching and to see her in action. I’m glad I did. I saw some of the tricks an elementary school teacher uses like choral responses the kids responded to, and heard some of the kindest feedback possible. Every conversation with the kids was phrased to “Friends” or “Helpful partners” and the like. That visit gave me valuable insight and context into what I would have to say that day in order to make it through. A few days before the swap, I finalized my lesson plans and reviewed them with the woman who would be teaching my high school students for the day. She was equally intimidated. We reviewed the game plans we had put together and committed to get through it as best as we could. I naturally thought she had an easier day ahead of her than I did. She obviously thought the same for me.
When the day came, I showed up early and went to the classroom to review the plan one more time. My partner was meticulously detailed with her plan, which helped immensely. I resolved to follow it as best as I could, but I was going to be satisfied if I got through the day without injury, or losing a kid.

When they came in, I put on my best kind “talkin’ to the kids” voice and used as many “friends” and smiley adjectives as I could. They were 7 and 8 and they could see right through it. Nonetheless, I managed to work my way through the first lesson, then the second. As I had them seated on the carpet for a reading lesson, I caught a kid from the side of my eye and watched him. I continued to read my story about poison dart frogs to the kids while glancing up periodically to see him squirming and hiding his hands as he wrote or drew something. I paid attention to him but didn’t call him out for fear of losing the attention of my audience as I profiled the dangers of poison dart frogs. After the lesson, I dismissed them to their seats to read their own stories about something or another and I went to check on the kid who I had noticed.

As I approached him, he tried to hide a pile of colorful Post-Its. I looked at them and they were full of third grade profanity. Words like “butt” “penis” “naked” and “fart” littered the pages. I laughed audibly and told him I was taking his papers and I redirected him to his reading area. I thought that would be the end of it. Boy was I wrong.

Throughout the day, as I managed to get through a writing lesson, a math lesson, and recess. I noticed the same student writing on more Post-Its. Yup, more elementary school profanity. I confiscated the entire supply of Post-Its hoping it would stop. Somehow more kept popping up on walls, trash cans, desks, and notebooks in different colors. He had a stash!

It didn’t disturb the other students so I was satisfied to capture the notes before others noticed it. Every time, I confronted the kid who admitted to it, apologized, and redirected himself back to his work. Every time, I found different colored bad words strewn about the room.

The rest of the afternoon was relatively uneventful. I took the kids to their specialist classes. I escorted them around to and from lunch. I even had a spirited conversation with one student about the merits of Hogwarts Wizarding School as a viable alternative to elementary school structures. At the end of the day, I escorted them to their designated places. These four go to this classroom for after school activities. These 8 go to this place for bus pickup. These 5 go to this place for parent pickup. It was difficult to keep track of. But alas, I had dropped off the kids and no more were dependent upon me to get home.

I scurried up to the room again, and led an after school activity on art and drawing with first grade students. We drew puppies. It was grand. One student asked me to throw hers away because her parents wouldn’t want it because it was bad. I told her I was sure they would love it, and she insisted it would go in the trash at home anyway since it wasn’t good. That was heartbreaking so I told her I wanted it so I could put it on my refrigerator. She seemed okay with the idea so that was that.
As we were putting the finishing touches on our puppies, the elementary school principal came in to ask me about a young girl from my class. It turns out she was expected in after school activities but was nowhere to be found. I LOST ONE!?!?! He said he would investigate while I carried on coloring puppies, but of course my work was shoddy because I was focused on the human being I misplaced. Then I heard a PA announcement alerting that we were on the lookout for this girl. Great, the principal couldn’t find her. The whole school was alerted, and everyone would know that I couldn’t keep track of a 7 year old.

As I escorted the first graders to their pickup locations, I ran into the principal again and inquired about the girl. It turns out she had walked home (on compound) and she was fine. I was off the hook. I piled up the Post-Its from earlier in the day on the desk of the REAL third grade teacher and went home. I was exhausted. I was full of compassion for her and her day to day plight as a wrangler of wild, adorable, sweet, artistic, wizard loving, profanity laced children. I was excited to be back in my own room the next day, but I had learned quite a bit during my time in third grade.

Christmas Markets and New Years Eve in Berlin

After our trip to Cuba in November, we realized quickly that the turnaround trip from the US to Saudi was really, really awful. So, knowing that we would be making a trip to the states for Winter Break, we decided that we had to stop along the way to break up the travel. After reviewing some of our options, we actually found that a stop in Germany would be the same flight cost as spending the entirety of our trip in the states. So with a little bit of research, we decided to go to Berlin for a few days on our way back.

One of the main reasons we decided on Berlin was the presence of the internationally famous Christmas markets. Every year, somewhere in between October and December, different areas of the city pop-up with Christmas markets. These markets sell handicrafts, food, drinks, play holiday music, and promote a festive atmosphere. In choosing Berlin, we were choosing one of the places that would still have many Christmas markets open after Christmas, and therefore during our time there.

We landed in Berlin at 9am, after a long flight from New York City. Our original plan was to check in to our hotel early, get a few hours of sleep, and then head out to the city for exploring. Unfortunately, when we arrived at our hotel, we were told that this would simply not be an option. The rooms wouldn’t be ready until the afternoon. So we left our luggage at the front desk, and despite not having slept in two days, we went out. It took us nearly no time to find the first market. The smell of pine trees, citrus and nutmeg from mulled wine, roasting bratwurst, and beer filled the air to make the most unique blend of scent. I loved it. We went to two Christmas markets on our first afternoon. We sampled as much of the local fare as possible. We checked out the handicrafts, watched people sing and dance, and even had a warm drink or two by the ice skating rink. I think the best moment of that afternoon was an ice skater leaving the

rink, promptly slipping and falling HARD, popping back up at the mulled wine counter and proclaiming “HALLOWWW!” before ordering more wine. There was no sense of embarrassment. No shame. Nothing but pure charisma and desire for wine. If there is one thing a clumsy man falling on ice repeatedly needs, it’s warm wine to stabilize him. After a few hours of wandering around the market, we went to our hotel to check in, and got that nap we needed. We loaded up on some groceries, had a nice dinner, and went to bed early that night to catch up on our rest.

The next day, we woke up well rested and went out into the city again. We found our way down museum island and to the famous Brandenburg Gate. We checked out beautiful churches and modern museums along the way as we discussed our options for New Year’s Eve. Traditionally, Shannon and I have traveled on New Year’s Eve because it is cheap. We haven’t had a chance to go out and celebrate a New Year’s Eve in years. Previous years have included jumping over the straw ano viejo’s of Ecuador, dodging the poor vuedas, and well...that’s pretty much it. As we mulled over our options, we wandered over to another Christmas market, this one even bigger than the last.

It had many of the same things as the previous day’s with the exception of proper sit down restaurants, live music, and more of everything. There were more options for crafts. There were more options for beer, more for wine, more for food. We again walked up and down the alleyways sampling whatever struck us as interesting. We had bratwurst, pretzels, baked and seasoned cheese balls, and even a turkey sandwich made from a slot roasted 25lb turkey on a spit.

After getting our fill, we went back to the hotel and decided to relax for an hour or two before gearing up to go out for New Year’s Eve. We decided that since we were well rested, in a new city, and within walking distance, we would join the expected 1,000,000+ people for the New Year celebration at the Brandenburg Gate. There would be food, live music, drinks, and...a million people....But we went for it. We got dressed and ready and walked ourselves all the way there.

When we got there, the crowd was intense. Hoards of people crowding and pushing their way through security checkpoints made me feel claustrophobic, but we made it through and to the party area. We arrived at about 8:00pm and found a spot right in the middle. At that time, it wasn’t too crowded. You could even turn around if you wanted to. We decided on the middle because the back was kind of far from the music, and the front was a little too densely populated. We picked a spot near the vendors we needed, and near some bathrooms. The concert viewing area was about 50 feet wide, by a mile long. Food and drink vendors were set up along the sides and screens and speakers were setup throughout the area so people could enjoy the party. The show featured a wide variety of artists, from German hip-hop (that’s fun) to 80s classics, to pop and rock cover bands. It was really interesting. At around 10, the full prediction of 1,000,000+ people seemed to come to fruition. It got packed. At one point, I took a photo above my head of the crowd in front of us, and behind us and looked at it in amazement at the sheer number of bodies that fit into that space. It was remarkable.

Also, this may be an over-generalization, but any time Shannon and I would go to a party, concert, or event in the states, about 80% of the people would be dancing, yelling, and swaying to the music. In South America, that went up to 100% of the people. If you weren’t doing salsa steps, spinning your dance partner, or wiggling your hips, you were weird. During this party and concert, the most in tense crowd favorites might have provoked 5% of the people to gently sway to the beat as if moved by a strong breeze. A very select few danced (less than 1%) The majority of the people stared forward and smiled if they liked it, and frowned if they didn’t. It was a really funny thing to see and a bit of a cultural difference from what we were used to. But again, I don’t mean to generalize, I am only commenting on what I saw, and what the screen showed of the usually rowdy front row patrons of the concert section. It was a subdued party to be sure.

The strangest moment of the night came when a guy came out to sing Frank Sinatra’s New York New York. One would think you need to make a decision on the song. You either sing the lyrics, or you adjust them to the city you are in. This guy did both. In one verse, he sang New York, in the next line he would sing Berlin, Berlin. It was hard to keep track of and it was an executive decision that confused the crowd more than hyped them up.

As midnight approached, the headliners showed up and played Cotton-Eye-Joe and Rhythm is a Dancer. It would take me less than a minute to look up who the artists were who played those songs, but needless to say, it isn’t necessary. However, it is interesting that these weren’t covers, they were the real deal. Who would have thought those two groups were available for concerts in 2018!?

As the clock struck midnight and we were serenaded by Cotton-Eye-Joe, we watched a beautiful fireworks display light up the German sky. We shared the moment with our 1,000,000 newest, albeit subdued friends and went for the exits. We began our hour long hike back to the hotel and when we left the park, we were greeted by a scene from a movie. Glass bottles were being thrown. Fires lined the sidewalks. Fireworks were being thrown into the sky and into crowds of people. One landed a mere six feet away from Shannon and I. It was intense. Smoke from fireworks filled the air and the sound of crashing bottles echoed from the building walls. People were selling pretzels, sausage, and champagne on the street, and seemingly everyone in the street was up to mischief. I don’t want to misrepresent the event, we didn’t see any violence or ill will towards anyone. It was more of a celebratory spirit and some dangerously poor decisions being made regarding fireworks. Nothing too crazy, just a little hectic for our taste.

When we got back to the hotel, we sent our Happy New Year texts to our friends and family (although we were a few hours ahead of them on that) and went to bed, exhausted again. It was definitely a unique experience for us, and one we haven’t often found ourselves in, and probably won’t again for a while. To have been at a historically significant landmark, watching live music, and “partying” while in Berlin was surreal. It’s something I won’t forget.

The remaining time we spent in Berlin was focused on relaxing, reading, checking out some of their malls for Shannon to shop, and some cool historical sites; which we visited all on the same day. We woke up early and picked up some coffee to go on our way out the hotel door. We walked about 35 minutes from our hotel to the famous 'Checkpoint Charlie' section of what was once the Berlin wall. There were some walls built around to show some of the historical significance of the area and we ready a bit about it. For here. But in short, it was a demarcation zone for the Berlin Wall, separating communist East Germany from the democratic West Germany. It was the only gateway that East Germany allowed diplomats or military personnel to cross. It was also the site of one of the most dramatic and tense Cold War showdowns between Soviet and US tanks facing off, and at one point was used as the primary location for prisoner swaps. It was an area of high tension, high surveillance, and an important historical landmark site. Now it is largely a tourist spot to visit, get information, and stand on the ground where history once took place.
those who aren't familiar, they can read more about it

When we were done, we walked another few blocks to see the Topography of Terror museum. The name conjures up a horrific experience, we enjoyed the history it had to offer and the historical significance as well; and it was appropriately named. The Topography of Terror museum is the former location of the Nazi SS headquarters. What once stood there has now been reconstructed as a museum to the history of the Nazi party, the Holocaust, and Germany during pre, during, and post WWII Germany. The museum was fascinating and included a lot of truly horrific detail. The museum curators did a great job of representing the time period with honesty, reflection, and unfiltered access. The museum was packed, but not a word was uttered as we went through the exhibits. It was incredibly powerful, sad, and moving.

After the Topography of Terror museum, we walked a few more blocks to the monument to the Memorial of Murdered Jews in Europe. This was an outdoor museum which kind of resembled a cemetery. Throughout the cemetery, there were large concrete blocks arranged in rows, of varying heights. There were a total of 2,711. The ground in the middle sloped downward as well. The blocks were meant to represent the illusion of order and disorder as well as a symbol of loneliness, powerlessness, and despair. It is not technically a Holocaust memorial, but theoretically given the title and the sheer magnitude of the Holocaust, it effectively serves as one in this context. Although this serves as a contentious topic for those critical of the memorial. However, we found it interesting and worthwhile to visit.

After that, we went back to the hotel. Our last bit of time was spent exploring more of the city, going out for meals, wandering through an area of town called museum island, checking out various coffee shops, and relaxing. We had a truly wonderful time in Berlin and enjoyed all of the sites, the festivities, and culinary offerings we found. We are glad to have spent the beginning of our 2018 in Berlin and will remember our visit fondly.  

Christmas in NY/NJ

As I am writing this, we are wrapping up an incredible Winter Break. We wrapped up Semester 1 at school prior to the break, so we had a few days of intense grading, prep, essay reviews, and lesson planning before we left. So basically, all of the worst parts of being an educator, without the good stuff, the day to day interactions with students. So by the time we were truly on break, we were well overdue and ready for it.

As soon as it actually started, we hopped aboard the first possible flight to the states and flew across the world and landed in New York. Groggy and out of it, we found our way to a taxi and got in a cab to Shannon’s sisters’ apartment. We wandered over to our favorite bagel shop in the city, loaded up on lunch (which at this point had no meaning to us since our body clocks said it should have been 1am, not lunch time) and we ate it all up before going to dinner in Brooklyn at Meagan’s boyfriend’s apartment.

Early the next morning, we got ourselves a rental car and drove down to New Jersey. On the way, Shannon and I met up with my niece and sister and had a visit with a long lost family member who we hadn’t seen in about twenty years. We had lunch, caught up, shared some stories, and went on our way. It was a great way to really start our visit.

After that, we went straight to our hotel to drop off the many things we were lugging around, and to wrap presents of course. Given that we live in Saudi now, and no one from my home town knows much about it, there is a natural inclination of curiosity and all things Saudi. So as Christmas presents, Shannon and I brought back some Saudi goods. We had scarves, wooden jewelry boxes, camel milk chocolates, blankets, art, and of course, stuffed camels for the children. After wrapping it all up, we went out to a party at our friends’ house. We were able to meet up with three of the four guys in my wedding party, their families, and countless other friends. Well, not really countless. I would say the numbers were somewhere in the range of thirty people. We caught up with them and their families, shared stories and food, and of course, gave the gifts we brought.

The next day, Christmas Eve, we went to my grandma's house for a big breakfast. We met up with my sister and niece again, along with my cousin and his girlfriend, my aunt, and obviously my grandma. We ate a ton of delicious food and again shared presents and stories.

We left after breakfast and went to the movies with my sister and niece, where we saw Star Wars: The Last Jedi. We absolutely loved it. My niece is 7 as well, so she’s old enough to get the stories, idolize Rey, and yet still young enough to be enveloped in a good narrative. As a fan of the movies for my whole life, it was really cool to see her enjoy it through her eyes. We talked about it all after we left and said our goodbyes.

Then, we went to my mom’s house and made a big Christmas dinner with all of the necessary components. We had a big ham, green beans, and the whole deal. I also prepped the meal for the next day, the big Christmas Day dinner. I seasoned the turkey, peeled potatoes for mashed potatoes, and helped taste test my mom’s famous pumpkin cheesecake. We hung out with her, watched some movies, and again, caught up on our stories. We really wanted to spend some quality time with my mom. It’s always important, especially when you don’t see relatives often. But this year in particular was important to us. Our family has always made a big deal about Christmas. We spend a lot of time together, we have our own specific traditions and routines, and we really focus on enjoying each other’s company. We knew this year would be especially hard on my mom since it was the first Christmas she would be spending alone. My stepdad, Jeff, passed away last February, so in addition to having a naturally tough time coping with that, our whole family knew that without his gregarious, generous, happy, magnetic presence, this Christmas was going to be tough on everyone. It was really important to spend some time with my mom as a result.

The next day, Christmas morning, we slept in. If you are following the progression of this trip, we did all of that in less than 48 hrs, while dealing with no sleep, and jet lag. So the sleeping in was needed. When we got up, we went over to my mom’s place to help her make Christmas dinner. We watched the NBA’s Christmas Day games (featuring my beloved 76ers beating the Knicks) and watched a few classic Christmas movies. We spent the entirety of the day there hanging out. At one point we went for a walk through the park by my mom’s apartment (which is hard now as she is still regaining mobility post-stroke) and enjoyed the biting temperatures of 15 degrees. At around 5, we wrapped up the food as best as we could and took it over to my sister’s house for a big proper meal with her, my brother-in-law, and my niece.

The following morning, we did our usual running around to grocery stores, Target, and the mall to pick up things we would need for when we returned home to Saudi. Then we went back to my mom’s place to spend some more time hanging out. In the late afternoon, we met up with my mom, grandma, sister, niece, and Shannon’s family! Her parents had flown in from Florida to hang out in New York City with her sisters and us. They drove down from NYC to see another family member and then drove to meet us for dinner. This was a big deal to Shannon and I, as we were unable to get the whole family together prior to this. Like ever. Shannon and I have been together for about 5 years, and our families have never met! Not even at the wedding. My sister was able to come, but that’s it! So to have so much of my family, and her family sitting together to enjoy a meal was really special to me. It always seemed inevitable but distance and circumstance always made it tough. We enjoyed our meal together and said our goodbyes to my family before hitting the road to drive up to New York again.

These trips are always busy because we need to fit in visiting time with everyone, and usually, everyone is curious about what we’re up to. So we often end up telling different versions of the same stories 7-8 times. It’s a small price to pay for quality time with people that we don’t usually get to spend time with. We had a wonderful time with all of our friends and family. We did all of the above in three days! It was a very condensed visit, but certainly worthwhile and fantastic.

When we got to NY, we promptly crashed from exhaustion. We slept through the night, and most of the next day. When we did wake up, we ate, walked around, watched a movie or two, and crashed again. Despite being six people in a two bedroom apartment in NYC, I don’t think I saw the outside that day. It was strictly for hanging out and recuperation.

The next day however, we hit the ground running. We woke up and went to the Met to see some art and culture. We were in New York afterall. We got in line and waited in line as the life slowly seeped out of us. The temperature was nothing short of catastrophic. We would have needed the girth and wool of a mastadon to have found that tolerable, but after waiting for twenty minutes, we made it inside and slowly regained feeling in our appendages.

We wandered a bit and saw some cool Roman antiquities before finding our way over to the exhibit we came for, Michelangelo. There was a traveling exhibit featuring many of Michelangelo’s sketches, paintings, sculptures, and even some renderings he used in preparation for the Sistine Chapel. It was amazing. I took a few photos where I could to share with my students. (we reviewed the Renaissance and Enlightenment in my World History class) The art was spectacular and the exhibit was packed. In each room, it felt like there was more mass of bodies and winter coats than there was air. Despite my admiration for the art, I moved quickly throughout the exhibit.

Once I was finished with the Michelangelo exhibit, I wandered to another traveling exhibit by David Hockney. I don’t want to sound pretentious, or like I am pretending to know what I’m talking about with art, but I found his use of color and shapes really compelling. It was an impressive exhibit as well.

When we were done, we all hopped on the subway and went to the Washington Square Arch to see the art installation exhibit of another artist, Ai Weiwei. From what I know about Weiwei, he is political activist and artist who has had a bit of a contentious relationship with the Chinese government and their treatment of their citizens, and their take on censorship. We saw the exhibit and stopped for some soul warming ramen at a local restaurant before calling it a night.

Shannon’s parents left that night, and we left the following morning. Our trip to New Jersey and New York was about 7 days in all, but was jam-packed with events, art, family time, meals, movies, parties, dinners, and presents. It was an amazing trip home and one that left us sad to depart again for the other side of the world. It was an amazing trip and one that we relish having had the opportunity to make this Christmas.

Souqs

One of our favorite things to do while living abroad is going to local markets. It doesn’t really matter what kind of market. Clothing markets are fun. So are food markets, artisan markets, and even touristy gift markets. It’s a fun way to get out into a city, see new stuff, and avoid staying trapped in the inevitable bubble that we all find ourselves in. One thing I realized when I first moved abroad is how easy it is to get stuck in that bubble. It’s inevitable really to a certain extent. People crave familiarity and routine. Living abroad forces you into many unfamiliar and un-routine situations, so when you can find yourself going to a mall, visiting a chain restaurant, or doing any activity that reminds you of your formal “normal” life, it’s hard to resist the charm.

Obviously the downside of this approach is you miss out on the whole point of living abroad. Like anything, there needs to be balance. I have found that maintaining a normal routine helps keep my focus on my work and on relationships with family and friends. However, every now and again, it’s nice to get out into the community and do something different and distinctly un-routine. Markets are a great way to do that. Last weekend, in an effort to get out of the routine, see some of the city, and even pick up a few gifts for the holidays, I went venturing out into the world of the local markets of Riyadh, called souqs.

We had been to souqs before. We got the plants for our home at a local plant souq, but I was after something more eclectic. We had heard from some friends about the various different things that could be procured at the souqs across the city. When payday came, and the weekend followed, we made plans to go to the famous Riyadh Clocktower Souq.

I have detailed this before, but planning any outing in Riyadh requires strict scheduling and deliberate departure times in order to avoid getting locked out of your destination due to the regular prayer times. So we left early in the morning.  A few of us piled into the car and drove out of the northern part of the city towards the older, western part of the city where the souq was. Shannon wasn’t feeling well so it was a few of our neighbors and me. We were told as soon as we got there that we absolutely had to go to the “cheesy bread” place first. I was game, so when we arrived, we walked to a small food counter and ordered four and a few cups of tea and sat down. What they brought us was magnificent. The best way to describe these “cheesy breads” is to say they are like a small, thin, pita bread hammered down and coated with a soft, white cheese, and drizzled with honey. They are rolled up into a wrap and served warm. It’s the perfect balance between sweet and savory and really kicked off our trip right. It was more than enough to fill a person up so we were ready to be on our way. I paid the bill for our four “cheesy breads” and tea, which came out to a grand total of 20 SAR ($5) and we went through to the markets. I still have no idea what they are called. We ordered with four fingers held up and some poor pantomiming and never actually exchanged words with the owner. I look forward to finding out, and trying more.

The souqs reminded me of the markets in Ecuador a bit. They are essentially a gathering of small, living room sized shops connected together in a half-indoor, half-outdoor weaving mall/street. Some stores sold food. Some sold jewelry. Others sold clothing, or antiques, or scarves. We even came across one that sold hand build and hand carved rosewood furniture, which was beautiful. We wandered our way around the area, walking past old, beautiful buildings and a large courtyard area. We were told by our veteran visitors (who also happened to have lived in Riyadh as children) that the courtyard doubled as the location for public executions or “punishments” on certain days. That certainly gave me a moment of pause. I hope never to wander into that as an accidental spectator on one of those certain days.

At one point we noticed that a group of three Saudi boys, probably about 18 or 19 years old were following us from afar as we zigged and zagged through the stores. After we went into one antique shop, one of them tentatively walked up to me as his friends were watching from twenty feet away and he said, “Hello...how, are, you?” in broken English before scurrying away as his friends giggled. It was a bold attempt at practicing his English. After I replied to him, I thought how terrified I’d be to speak with a local Saudi in Arabic.

Each souq had a variety of cool things and of course, everything is negotiable in terms of price and

quantity. After picking up a few gifts for our return to the states for the holidays, I looked down at my watch to see that it was nearly time for the midday prayer, thus the inevitable shut down of everything. Our party split up as if on Supermarket Sweep and haggled our way to a few last minute purchases before meeting back up at the car where we headed home, disappointed that we couldn’t get any more of that “cheesy bread” to go, as they had already closed for prayer.

It was a really cool cultural experience, and a good way for me to get out of my routine and interact with some locals. I got to eat some delicious food, browse around at the local shops, and pick up a few things for my family and friends, while being away from the norm for a short while. I look forward to going back again with Shannon.

Viva Cuba!! Papa S's Birthday Surprise

About six months ago, sitting in the kitchen in our home in Ecuador with my mom who was visiting for the weekend, we got the idea for a surprise party for my dad’s 70th birthday. After some discussion as to what sort of surprise he would like best, we settled on the idea of a cruise to Cuba. Knowing how much my dad has always wanted to visit, and how close we came to taking a family trip last year this seemed like the ideal birthday celebration. When we happened upon the coincidence that my dad’s birthday just so happened to align with our November school break, and the only 4-day cruise with Havana as a destination even sailing within that time frame, it was as if the stars had aligned. After a quick call to the sisters for affirmation, we booked it.

My mom did an excellent job of keeping this a secret from my dad. The most he knew was that he need to take a week off from work because he was going somewhere. So, last Thursday after wrapping up a full school day of parent-teacher conferences, Justin and I packed our suitcases and boarded a late night flight Orlando-bound. Some 26 hours later, we were picked up at the airport by a friend and quite literally crashed into her guest room for the night. We were treated to a generous breakfast of eggs, sausage and bagels and had at least a little time to catch up with our friends before my mom picked us up.

We drove to the airport to pick up the sisters who had just arrived on a morning flight. All vestiges of fatigue and jetlag faded away as we drew nearer to the house and excitedly planned out exactly how the surprise would be revealed. My mom dropped us on the street two houses down while she went into the house, just returned from “running errands”. Next, Caitlin phoned my dad to wish him a happy birthday and to tell him to check the front door for a package that had just been delivered. With Justin filming the moment, we whispered, giggled and leaped over bushes to be standing on the doorstep when dad opened the door. SURPRISE!! We yelled as dad stared back at us, shocked and smiling, cell phone still held up to his ear. Meagan had cued up a Cuban music playlist which she played from her phone as we came inside and started dancing around. When we informed dad that we had all come into town to take him on a cruise to Cuba, he could not believe it. The surprise was executed perfectly, dad was thrilled, and so we unpacked our Panama hats and prepared for the adventure.

Because we had booked our trip at the end of May, we were thankfully exempt from the changes in visa regulations that had been made a mere four days before our departure. However, this caused an extreme backup to the paperwork and check-in process at the port and so it took us a grueling three hours of standing in line before being finally checked in and able to board the ship in Miami. My parents, who had booked a suite, were able to check in in 10 minutes and board the ship far ahead of the rest of us plebeian standard state room passengers.

Once onboard I realized how long it had been since I’d taken a cruise and how different everything seemed from what I remembered as a teenager. Primarily obvious was the stark contrast in demographics aboard the ship. Being in the under-40 age group definitely put us in the minority. This was Justin’s first ever cruise so it was a novelty to show him the theatre, dance club, late night buffet, casino, and the much revered soft serve ice cream machine on the pool deck.

The six of us enjoyed our first of four sprawling dinners for the week, complete with multiple desserts, teas and coffees. And despite the grand plans we had made earlier in the day of dancing and blackjack and karaoke, we all turned in soon after dinner, exhausted from the travel and releived at finally having a few days off to relax.

Our first stop was in Key West and after wandering into a few shops and bars along Duval Street, we went to the Mel Fischer museum where we learned all about his lifelong family quest and eventual success of finding the shipwreck of the Atocha. I had never known about this story before our visit and found it immensely interesting. Not only was the shipwreck discovered in recent times (1985), but it became the subject of a long, drawn out legal battle between Mel Fischer’s family and the State of Florida, both claiming to hold lawful possession of the treasure. Both parties finally reached some sort of settlement, and I have a feeling that Mel’s wife and treasure hunting partner, Deo has a pretty amazing private jewelry collection. Gold, silver, emeralds and other gem stones were among some of the fantastic treasures brought up from the sea floor of the Florida Straights. We also stopped by Ernest Hemingway’s famous house and rounded out our Key West visit with a delicious slice of key lime pie before sailing overnight to our next destination.
We pulled into the port of Havana just after 7:00 on an overcast and drizzly morning. From the pool deck where Justin and I stood in the gradually brightening sky, we could already make out the bubblegum-colored classic cars rolling up and down the Malecon. We started our adventure with a pretty tame walking tour organized by the cruise line and managed by one of the government-approved tour companies on the island. And while it was a bit embarrassing to be given a number 8 sticker to wear and to follow a guy around with a number 8 paddle like the bumblingist of tourists, I was appreciative of the history we were presented with and the amount of ground and squares we were able to cover in four hours.

As an interesting caveat, there was a government official assigned to our group that just followed us around for the whole morning. We imagined that he was there to supervise the operations of the tour, but may have even gone as far as monitoring the questions that were asked and the answers that were supplied by the tour guide. It just seemed that parts of his script were just a little too “on-message” to be natural. For instance, when he brought us to a public food pantry where citizens present their ration cards for their allotted shares of meat, cheese, and butter, “something the government of Cuba does to help it’s people - all of it’s people who need this help receive this help.” Or when he pointed to the library and told us that inside we could find “many young people, reading books to further their knowledge and conduct research on important matters.” Even the cigar and rum shop he took us too was circumspect, it being owned and operated by the government, hence they charged higher prices and the government takes a portion of those earnings. But the tour operator insisted that we should purchase our cigars and rum here only (as opposed to the store next door with lower prices) because the goods in this store were “certified” and “regulated” and “guaranteed” to be of good quality. So while owning and operating a private business in Cuba is possible, it definitely seems that the government-owned operations give themselves every advantage. And my sister bought Cohibas out of a duffel bag from a guy in an alley, so take that for “regulated.”

Our coolest stop on the tour was to an outdoor cafe where we were seated six to a table to sample and learn the basics about Cuban coffee, rum, and of course, cigars. You can rest assured that all six of us took turns posing with a cigar, holding a cigar, lighting and puffing on a cigar and just generally trying to look really cool with a cigar in various photos. I must admit, I do look pretty cool puffing a cigar… Here is where we decided to purchase our cigars, at a significant discount than what the “authorized” shop was offering earlier. We bought Romeo y Julietta’s and a few loose Cohibas to share with friends.

On our second-to-last tour stop, our guide brought us to a square that contained a rather large and appealing bar and brewery. He foolishly pointed this out to our group, who by now had been walking in and out of brief little bouts of rain for the last three hours. He must have known that the 15 minutes he gave us to explore would not be sufficient for us all to sample what he himself called the “best beer in the country.” The whole group made their way inside and we were able to find a large table but by now tensions were getting high (i.e. we were all getting hangry) and my dad had a brief moment where he thought the Cuban police might come get us out of the bar if we didn’t return to the guide in time. Needless to say, this didn’t happen, and we reunited with the tour guide just in time.

Having completed our guided tour we finally broke off from the group, and tore off our number 8 stickers. Meagan had secured us dinner reservations at a very famous and notoriously hard to get into restaurant in another part of the city. So the six of us split up into two classic cars, a ‘53 Chevy and a ‘55 Ford, both hot pint and white, for our obligatory cruise down the Malecon to the restaurant. Waves crashed over the side of the sea wall and spilled onto the shoulder of the road as our drivers whipped in and out of traffic. The brief rain that had rolled in made the convertible experience even more unique as we clutched our hats to our heads and let the rain drops roll down our laughing, smiling faces. The restaurant, La Guarida, was once the set of a film called “Strawberries and Chocolate” and as a small private residence, can only hold a dozen patrons at a time - hence the necessity for a reservation. The lunch was beautiful and delicious, and the beverages were sweet and refreshing.

In the afternoon we lazily walked up and down the city streets, sampling a bit more of the local fare and listening to live music played in the street along our way. As it got dark we finally headed back to the cruise ship, wet and windblown and smiling ear to ear.

The following day was spent at sea on our slow sail back to Miami and while one sister spent her time catching up on much needed sleep, and another spent some time wandering the ship with my mom, Justin and I spent hours up on the pool deck reading. It was our first time in a very long time being able to dedicate a whole day to doing nothing but pleasure reading all day and it was fantastic. Tragically, I left my Kindle beind on the airplane on our trip in, but my friend was able to lend me a couple books for the week and these kept me entertained.

And now, as I sit on the plane flying back to Paris before making our back down to Riyadh and knowing that we have a rough few days ahead as we readjust to the time change and the jet lag, I am so happy that we were able to make the trip back for my dad - to spend time with the family, and even get to see our friends for a couple hours. I know it made my dad and my mom happy to take such a cool little vacation with the whole family together again and I’m so grateful that we had the opportunity and the good fortune to make it work. Viva Cuba!

Date Night: Riyadh!

Justin and I finally had the chance to venture out on our own for a date night. Justin found a place online that not only looked beautiful but also had great reviews for the food. So we planned to make a late afternoon trip to Saco to get some shopping done before the first evening prayer and from there we would head straight to the restaurant in time to order before the last prayer.

We managed to kill two whole hours wandering aimlessly around Saco after we had successfully purchased our patio furniture. We marveled at the myriad of niche kitchen appliances available - hotdog warmers and cupcake makers and about a dozen brands of air fryers and rice cookers. We noted the practical ingenuity of memory foam prayer rugs, and the multitude of tea and serving sets in the homegoods section. Also snake bite kits. We even stumbled upon a second floor of furniture that despite having been our fourth visit to Saco World, we never noticed before. All of this was to structure our timing just right for dinner.


The restaurant - Menara Moroccan Cuisine was located in a little strip mall on the side of the highway about a 15 minute drive from our compound. A Persian rug was rolled down the three steps leading up to the front door. In the lobby, which was all mosaic tile, trickling wall fountains, and giant brass-top tea tables, there was a small hallway with what I assume were private dining rooms up and down either side. The host was able to give us the last table available upstairs despite our not having a reservation.

We were placed in a tiny elevator and brought up to the second floor, which much like downstairs consisted of a broad hallway with doors to private dining room up and down the aisles, and with a large central seating area which looked like it was used for tea service as opposed to a full dinner.
Saudi Arabia has a very prominent dining culture and families go out to eat at restaurants often. The normal time for dining is much later than we are accustomed to in the US, to account for the final prayer time. Meaning that the typical “dining rush” is closer to 8:00 pm. It is also typical that the employees working at a restaurant, the servers are Filipino or Indian. Our Filipino waiter escorted us to the first dining room on the left hand side of the hallway. The room was approximately 10 feet wide and square, with a tiled square-shaped dining table and the middle and an L-shaped bench around two sides. On one wall hung a 32” flat screen TV and on the other wall was the door to the room. We each took a seat on one of the benches and were handed the remote control for the TV. At the time, it was automatically running through photos of some of the most prominent menu items, though our server showed us how we could easily change the channel to the soccer game. The room also came with a wireless button that was connected to a pager the server wore on his belt, so that we could call him to the room if we needed service or when we were ready to order.

These private dining rooms are common in Riyadh, due to the separation of genders and single men and families. In a private dining room, a woman would be comfortable removing her veil to eat unincumbered. The server always always knocks on the door before entering, and asks, “Is it okay for me to come in?” and waits for verbal confirmation before even opening the door. This allows the women a chance to cover back up before a man comes into the room.

After flipping through some of the menu photos, we turned off the TV and paged our server to place our order. Because we were so thrilled to be having our first date night out since arriving, we did not hold back and ordered what was truly enough food to feed four people, just because we were curious to taste as many things as we could. We ordered an appetizer of Moroccan “salads” which consists of four mini plates of things like pickled olives and peppers in olive oil, hummus and stewed eggplant. This was served with fresh hot pita bread. We also tried the traditional rice and chicken dish that is cooked inside of a clay pot sealed with pita bread over the top. When this is served at the table, the server slices open the bread lid with a knife, and dumps the steaming rice and chicken onto a platter. Very fun. We also ordered some sort layered pastry that involved ground chicken, crushed almonds and pistachios, cinnamon and some sort of clear sweet syrup on the side. It was combination of sweet and savory, and all sorts of textures that just really had us puzzled. I’ve never had anything similar to compare it to, but this wound up being Justin’s favorite dish. And of course, we had what has become our favorite dinner cocktail - mint lemonade with crushed ice.

We also weren’t shy to order dessert, and sampled a creme brulee which was served with cardamom and pomegranate seeds on top, and a flaky sticky pastry similar to baklava. To round out the meal, we ordered Moroccan mint tea. This was served on an elegant silver tea platter, with short class cups and a *charming* tea cozy meant to resemble some sort of traditional person. You can check it out in the pictures, but I’m unsure as to the culture reference here…

Finally when we had finished our feast and tea party, we packed up all our leftovers and settled the tab, which was an incredibly reasonable 300 riyals (approximately $100 USD), not bad at all for a date night out and leftovers for days.

We were so happy with our find that we talked about bringing our other DINK friends out to this restaurant for a triple date night sometime soon. And even though we did get lost on the way home, both of our cell phones died, we took two wrong turns, and took an hour to do what should have taken only 15 minutes, it was a great adventure and something I’m sure we’ll do again soon.