The holy month of Ramadan is upon us, a time when it is believed that the gates to heaven are open, the gates to hell are closed, and mankind is closer than ever to God. Prayers and sacrifices, such as fasting have extra power during this time, and people strive for good thoughts and good deeds.
Fasting is a central part of Ramadan, and this fasting is different from the fasting sometimes observed in other cultures. In addition abstaining from food between sunrise and sunset, water is also fasted. If you think this is hard to comprehend, I want you to imagine fasting from water for almost 12 straight hours. In the middle of the desert. In May. For an entire month. The suffering can be extreme. There are exceptions, of course. Sick and elderly, pregnant women, and travelers, for example are exempt from fasting for health reasons and may make up their fasting days when their health has returned.
I fasted for Ramadan years ago with a Lebanese friend of mine and in my own personal experience, the first week was extremely difficult, but it became more bearable after that. I remember thinking that without having to think about what to eat, where to eat, and then eating every few hours, I had much more time to focus thinking on other things, like God, or life, for example. I also felt more spiritually aware and a noticeable sense of inner calm.
There are several changes in the kingdom during this month and daily life must be adjusted. For example:
Business Hours
Ramadan almost becomes a nocturnal month, when people are less active and visible during the day, and more active and social at night, when it is time to break fast and spend time at the mosque and with family. Therefore, business hours adjust accordingly. Most businesses will be open during the day but close around 4 pm to 7 pm since this is the time when most people are in their homes making preparations for large family meals. Business will then reopen at 8pm, after iftar is finished and remain open until 1 am. Other businesses just close entirely during the day hours and are open in the evening until the early hours of the morning. Imagine my surprise when attempting to schedule a doctor’s appointment and being offered an appointment time of 12:45 am!
Eating and Drinking in Public
I think that technically this is a law, though probably not enforced. It would still be considered extremely poor form for a non-Muslim to be strolling through the mall openly eating and drinking during fasting hours. Most restaurants are closed anywhere. I’m not sure if this is because serving food is prohibited, or they just close because there would be virtually no business. Same goes for smoking cigarettes or chewing gum.
School
This is the change that affects us the most. Our school shifted into Ramadan hours to accommodate the change in daily schedules for the majority of our families. School now begins one-half hour later and ends one whole hour earlier. As a teacher, this is fantastic! Although there are some definite drawbacks. Tired, hungry, dehydrated teenagers are not the most highly energetic and engaged learners. This is hard because while I sympathize with their discomfort and lack of focus, we still have 3 weeks left of school and are finishing the year with a literary essay - a task which requires considerable focus and attention.
Despite the minor inconveniences, I do find this month to be a beautiful and very special time and I do admire the devotion and sacrifice that so many of our students and their families make. Here’s wishing all a blessed Ramadan, a sense of inner peace and a renewed perspective and purpose for the year.
Well this is a first. I woke up this morning to an orange hue filling the room. As I went downstairs to get breakfast, every window looked bright orange. I opened the window and saw the haze, and smelled the dust and sand. We were in the middle of a sandstorm.
As I ate breakfast and got ready for work, a few friends who are also teachers started chatting with us. Similar to all of the experiences I had as a child growing up in NJ on a cold winter morning, we speculated as to weather or not school would be cancelled. In those days, it would be due to inches or feet of snow accumulating and making it dangerous for people to drive. For us, it was a heavy settling of sand and particles in the air making it unsafe for people to breathe; and unsafe to drive.
Good thing I had ordered some dust and sand masks a few weeks earlier that arrived the night before the storm. While I look like some gross between Hannibal Lecter, Bane, and a fighter pilot, it works. The mask even has vents that open and close like a fish's gills.
As we got ready the speculation continued. We collected stats as if we were preparing for our own argument that we all knew would never happen. "But most of the kids won't show up anyway. But the air quality is listed as hazardous. But it'll get in the windows of our rooms and infect us like a plague of grit." Then we got the email and the call. School was cancelled, well sort of. We would be holding class anyway, but on a distance learning method. Assignments and lesson plans had to be converted into an online method, and all of our correspondence electronic. Either way, it's a day inside with my wife, protected from the grime, and without a tie.
A few months ago, when we were in the thick of a long stretch at school with no break to be seen, I decided that we needed a mental break. We were stuck in a rut of grading, 11-12 hour days working on school stuff in some capacity, and tutoring/coaching in the tiny bit of free time we had. I decided to surprise Shannon with a weekend trip away.
After hearing about the trips of some of our colleagues, I decided to book a trip to Amman, Jordan. I booked private tours to Petra, and Jerash and the hotel, targeted a weekend in May when we would be in the middle of another long run, and told her about it. She was super excited.
When the time came, we got our entry-exit visas, which we need to get approved by the government for all of our trips, and we set off. We left work on a Thursday at 4:00 and went straight to the airport where a two hour direct flight laid ahead of us. We got on our plane and about forty minutes into it, a pleasant man name Jaf, who sat next to me, introduced himself. He told me he was a Jordanian man who worked in Saudi, but whose family lived in Jordan. He was on his way home to meet them for the weekend. I told him about our trip and he gave me his cell phone number and told me to contact him if I needed anything. He wanted us to have a good time. This was the first of many friendly encounters we had with Jordanian people.
When we landed, we went through customs, paid our visa entry fee, and hopped in a cab. When we got in, we realized he spoke no English. I gestured to my phone and showed him the name of the hotel, but he apparently hadn't heard of it, or of the cross streets, or the map. I suppose he wasn't able to read English, which was an oversight on my part. I didn't have a map or directions in Arabic. So we did what anyone would do, we stopped on the side of the street and asked a random stranger where this driver should take us. He was friendly and helpful (theme here) and we were on our way.
When we got to the hotel, we walked into the lobby and found a club. There was a DJ, a bar, and enough cigarette smoke filling the air to set a film noir detective movie. As we shouted to the check-in clerk, he told us that there was a nightly sunset party and it often went late. (It was 12:30am by this point) We thanked him, squeezed in between dancing 20-somethings and went up to our room. After some showers, we turned the lights off and went to bed, exhausted. Little did we know that this room had motion sensors. Every time I would scratch my neck or turn over in bed, as if in an interrogation room, the spotlights above me would turn on and jar me awake. As a person who moves a lot while asleep, I can say I was personally responsible for at least 5 spotlights that woke up Shannon and myself, and at least double that in expletives shouted into the night. We were simply too tired, and it was simply too late to get the hotel staff to come up to the room and fix it. So instead, I slept sat there as still as I could for four hours until it was time to get up.
The next morning, we grabbed some breakfast to go and got picked up by our tour guide. We drove through the rolling green and tan hills of Jordan, smitten to be surrounded by...well green. At one point, we were stopped at a checkpoint and our driver and the officer got into some sort of argument. There was a lot of gesturing, animated conversation, and then ultimately, no problems. The only thing that made it intimidating was his partner stationed in a SUV parked on the side of the road with an AR-15 mounted on a swivel chair on the roof of the car. It was a bit intense for the arguing. In my book, the guy with the AR-15 on his side wins just about every time.
Anyway, as we drove, we chatted with our driver about Jordan, about politics, and life. At one point endured enjoyed this for the remainder of our drive until we arrived at the site for Petra. As we approached on a long, winding road, our driver told us that the road was called King's Road and had been built around the year 1200BC and connected Demascus, Rome, Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt. Then he put in his headphones so he could jam out to his music. We stopped for some bathroom and snack breaks as it was a 3.5 hr drive. At one point, both Shannon and I dozed off due to the lack of sleep from our run in with the Batman spotlight the night before. As soon as we did however, we were awoken by the loud, but smooth tones of one Yanni. Our driver was digging it, and had no idea we were asleep.
When we pulled into the site, we were greeted by a small market selling water, clothes, souvenirs, hats, and scarves. Naturally I got a hat and Shannon got a scarf because why not, and also to protect ourselves from the scalding sun. As we entered the site, we were greeted by a tour guide named Mahmoud and he walked us down into a canyon with sloping walls rising above us. As we walked, he pointed out stone structures that had been used as burial sites, homes, and market areas. We even found a wall that had a cross section of a fossil in the wall from thousands of years prior. As we continued, the walls climbed higher and higher and we saw hand carved windowsills, aqueducts, candle holders, and sculptures lining the walls that rose on both sides of us, as high as 400 feet. As the walls grew higher, the temperature lowered into a cool and comfortable climate, with plentiful shade laying on us like a protective blanket. Our guide explained that the area was inhabited by the Nabatean civilization, and was influenced by the Ancient Greek, Roman, and Egyptian civilizations. A lot of architecture from each of these was found throughout the site. During its time, the area was occupied by a wide variety of different civilizations as well after the Nabateans. Due to the Nabatean polytheistic way of life, many statues were tributes for their Gods. As other monotheistic civilizations took over, they decapitated many of the statues, which left eerily well preserved bodies of statues with no head.
As we walked, we were passed by horses, camels, donkeys, and the occasional chariot carrying other
tourists down the path.We came around the corner to the famous treasury site and it was absolutely breathtaking. I had seen it in photos, and in movies (shout-out to Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade) but I hadn't imagined the size, the overwhelming attention to detail, and the magnificence of the facade carved into the building. As we wandered around, countless people tried to sell us on trinkets, souvenirs, camel rides, secret hikes to the "best view" and many other add-ons. Most of the men rode camels or horses and wore heavy kohl on their eyes, which made them look like the Dothraki from the Game of Thrones series. One young boy, who reminded me of Short Round from Indiana Jones, had a really hard time accepting "No Thank You" as an answer and began to follow me around mocking me by saying "No THAAAANNNNNKKKK YOOOOOUUU" and giggling.
I honestly expected the treasury to be the end of the site, but as we continued down the path, we
found our way into an amphitheater, a residential site, a holy worship house, a palace, and countless other fantastic buildings carved into the cliff. We stopped along the way at a small restaurant and had some freshly pressed mint lemonade, and a plate of hummus and vegetables and marveled at the view around us. We wandered around a bit more and then slowly climbed our way out of the lost stone city, up through the canyon, and back to our driver who was waiting with more Yanni to escort us home.
I will say, driving in Jordan was relatively easy. In general, driving in the Middle East is easy, aside from the drivers themselves. The roads are largely unobstructed because...desert, so you can get to most places, even 3 and a half hour away, in less than two to three turns. It's quite convenient.
Quick aside, the day was not easy. There was a significant amount of hiking, intense heat, and no real rest. My wife is a badass. Despite being pregnant, and therefore shorter on energy than she would have been otherwise, she toughed it out and in fact led the way most of the day.
When we got back, we showered and went out for dinner. We came across a great local spot and had
more mint lemonade, and the BEST hummus, grape leaves, and falafel we have ever had. It was incredible. When we were sufficiently stuffed, we wandered the streets of Amman for a bit before heading to our hotel, just ahead of the dance party. We reveled in the days events and the fact that on a random weekend, we just saw one of the World's 7 New Wonders. An early bedtime awaited us, and another adventure the next morning. Don't worry, the motion lights were fixed.
We got up the next day, grabbed some breakfast, and waited outside for our ride. We waited, and waited, and waited. We were concerned about the timing of it all because we had a flight to catch in the afternoon, but wanted to make time to go to Jerash. We had a very tight window to work with. I called the tour company and they realized that they had written down the wrong date for our trip, and had us marked down for the following day. I corrected the mistake and they sent us a driver and decided to comp us a free trip to the airport afterwards.
When our driver arrived, he wore sunglasses to cover his bloodshot eyes and told us he had just arrived after one hour of sleep the night before. Note to all professional drivers out there, don't drive with one hour of sleep. Definitely don't tell your clients that. We were nervous as he drove us across the city and towards the site. Apparently he was kept awake by his NOW That's What I Call Music CD from 2008. The tranquil rolling hills of Jordan were set to the tones of Brittney Spears, Hoobastank, and a few Lil John songs.
When we finally arrived, we were ushered into another market selling random goods, when we came out the other side, we were greeted by a gigantic entrance made of stone and a pathway that was walked upon hundreds and hundreds of years prior.
As we walked through the city we were struck by how real it felt. There were grooves in the stone streets from carriages. There was a hippodrome stadium where gladiators had fought for sport. We were surrounded by streets lined by marble columns, fountains, and statues that all stood, well preserved. We were told that the city was first founded in 1000BC and was built up, changed, improved, and lived in by the Greeks, Romans, and citizens of the Byzantine Empire. It was incredible to walk the streets in front of temples where some of the world's most advanced ancient civilizations created engineering feats that still stood, in front of us, three thousand years later! (Yes I know that the Roman city wasn't 3000 years old, but the city itself was)
As we walked the streets and hills, it was easy to imagine vendors selling hand made goods, people
gathering in the theaters for a play, or in the main hall for a political debate. It was absolutely amazing. It was well preserved, beautiful, and charged with significance. As we left, I was astounded by what we were able to visit over the course of the weekend. Our driver stopped at a local shop for some pita bread and some sort of sour goat's milk yogurt drink that we pretended to have, and we reflected back on our weekend as we went to the airport. We wanted another adventure, and a weekend away from the routine. We definitely found it in Jordan, where we fell in love with the food, the culture, the history, and the people.
This one will be a short one. It was just too weird to not comment on. Last night, Shannon and I went to the mall after work. We had some errands to run and figured it would be better to get them all out of the way in one shot. As we were walking around the mall, she had to stop and go shopping in a store I couldn't go in with her. While she was in there, I got a cup of coffee and sat on the bench outside in the mall concourse area.
I was sitting down minding my own business and reading some stuff from my phone when a man in a brown thobe walked up to be. I looked up and around to see if I was accidentally in his way or something. He said some words in Arabic to me, to which I did as any non-Arabic speaker would do. I gave my most polite and apologetic facial expression and shrugged my shoulders. He asked, "Arabic?" and I shook my head no. He asked, "English?" and I said yes. Meanwhile I was still very confused as to what was happening or why I was his chosen companion for conversation.
He tapped his chest in a very "Me Tarzan" kind of way and said "Jonesena." I took this as some sort of introduction, and tapped my own chest like an idiot and said, "Justin" thus completing the awkward misunderstood greeting ritual. As I wondered what sort of name Jonesena was, or if I had misheard him, he extended his hand for a handshake, so naturally I thought, I have now formally met Jonesena and I shook it back and smiled. He then tapped his shoulders and his chest and said "Undertaker." That's when I got it. He had said "John Cena."
Because I was an American, I must have been interested in WWE and other western culture. In addition, there was a big WWE show in Saudi about two weeks ago. This guy was trying to reach out to me and make a connection with the only way he knew how. Either that, or I was formally challenged to a wrestling match with this man. He grunted and walked away, so I'm not sure if that means I have a new friend, or a date for a battle for the Intercontinental Championship Belt.
After Shannon got out from the store, we walked around some more. When we went into another store, and she tried on a few things, another man in a thobe walked up to me and started speaking Arabic. I responded with my same friendly grin and shrug combo and he replied in English. The conversation went as follows.
"Where are you from?"-Kind Stranger
"The United States of America."-the foolish foreigner
"How long have you been here?"-Kind Stranger
"About 8 months. Are you from here"-the foolish foreigner
"Yes. What do you do for work?"-Kind Stranger
"I work at an International School here."-foolish foreigner
"That is very interesting. I would like to get coffee with you some time."-Kind Stranger
"Ummm...okay. I like coffee."-foolish foreigner
"Do you have kids and a wife?"-Kind Stranger
"Yes, she is in the store."-foolish foreigner
"Did you date her before you were married?"-Kind Stranger
"..." (Trying to carefully answer this...) "Yes...?"-foolish foreigner
"That is great. Love is a wonderful thing. I must go. Please call me and we will get coffee sometime. It was nice to meet you."-Kind Stranger
So now, if I survive my wrestling bout, I may have a new friend who wants to get coffee as a part of some sort of cultural exchange. Both people who I spoke with were kind, outgoing, and friendly. I can't remember the last time I had a single one of those types of conversations with a complete stranger. It was interesting and it was a nice bridge to a different group of Saudis.
Big News! The first movie theatre in Saudi Arabia since the early 1980’s opened in Riyadh last month, causing much excitement among Saudis and expats alike. AMC secured a deal be the first cinema company in operation in the kingdom. Until the permanent facility is constructed, the cinema has a temporary home in an auditorium located in the King Abdullah Financial District downtown. The first screening, Black Panther, was invitation-only and the theatre did not open to the public until the following week, debuting the new Avengers movie, Infinity War. My teaching buddy is a movie buff. So much so, that he flies to Bahrain regularly just to be able to go to the cinemas there and see the new releases. Obviously he was thrilled to be able to secure 3 tickets online and so Justin and I were able to be among some of the first to experience the Riyadh cinema.
Because the financial district is typically not open to the public in general, parking and security
attendants were placed in the traffic lanes surrounding the building and we had to pull over and show our online ticket stubs before being allowed to enter the parking lot. We were then given wristbands and allowed into the parking garage. You got the immediate feeling that this a big deal, as upon parking our car in the garage and walking inside the building, we passed no less than 14 attendants, in suit jackets and ties, greeting us and pointing us in the direction of the theatre. There was a small concession stand, offering water, soda, and either butter or caramel popcorn. Another set of attendants was also handing out complimentary bags of Lays potato chips upon entering the theatre, and marking on your wristband that you had in fact received said chips. Because the theatre is actually a business convention or lecture hall, the floor had a gentle slope from the back of the room to the front. And while the seats didn’t recline, they did come with fold out tables, originally designed for taking notes during a business meeting, but which doubled as excellent table tops for drinks and popcorn.
Because we had no idea what the traffic or seating situation would be like, we wound up arriving almost an hour before the film was scheduled to start. However, the theatre quickly filled up with both young and old couples, some children, and even some groups of young women. As I looked around the gradually filling theatre, I noticed young women wearing their abayas unzipped and several women with their niqabs flipped back and eating popcorn. One young man even walked in wearing a cosplay-style Thanos hand. There was a general buzz and excitement filling the room.
Finally the previews started, and far unlike the 15 minutes of previews one must sit through in the US, this time there were only 3, and they lasted no more than 5 minutes. The first shot was a clip from the 60 Minutes interview with the Crown Prince. He was quoted reminding the interviewer, that back in the 70’s, Saudi Arabia was “like any other country,” with women working, women driving, and movie theatres everywhere. The next clip was a “History of Film and Cinema” piece that offered a moving timeline of major accomplishments in the film industry, making note of significant Saudi filmmakers, and ending with a note that said something to the effect of, “the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, now continuing to make history in film,” and presumably referring to the re-emergence of cinema in the Kingdom. The last and final spot was a Coca-Cola commercial, featuring a father in thobe, getting out of the driver’s seat of his car and handing the car keys to his teen-aged daughter. The father then sits in the passenger seat and cringes in a fatherly way as his daughter attempts to jerkily drive the car. Finally, with the help of Coca-Cola she is able to do so successfully. I thought this was an incredibly and cool commercial and I felt like I was watching something really important happen.
Then we settled in to the almost 3-hour movie, and while there may have been one or two kissing
scenes that were cut from the film, the audience was incredibly fun. They laughed at every joke, (especially a Jesus one!) they booed when the bad guys got an advantage, they cheered when a good guy had a leg up, and they clapped at almost every small victory in the plot. It was so fun! I’ve never experienced such an engaged, happy audience during a movie before.
It was definitely a cool experience and I’m glad we were able to be there for one of the first screenings. Since there is only one screen and theatre at the moment, we may have to wait a while until the next showing comes out. But this was not only fun to experience but also a significant step towards progress that we were able to be a part of.
This blog began as a way for us to document our experiment/experiences as we decided to take the plunge and live abroad. We knew there would be many new challenges, cultural differences, adjustments, struggles, and triumphs. That has all been true, and to the best of our ability, documented. However, this blog has also kind of served as a time capsule for us. It has captured many more moments than what we now consider a part of "living and teaching overseas." It has been a running account of our lives in many ways and included things that had nothing to do with our teaching. We have lost loved ones. We have missed out on family events and milestones at home. We have documented our own travels, adventures, and triumphs that resulted not from our distance from home, but from our daily lives. This blog includes photos from our engagement. It has stories from our families as they came to us for our wedding. It has been some combination of our frustrations and celebrations as foreigners in new lands, a family photo album, and a journal for us to look back upon. It is also a method for us to share our lives and our milestones with those whom we love who live far away. I am incredibly grateful for the way this has evolved into a tool for us and a reflective soundboard for us.
Since this blog has served as all of those things for us, while it has nothing to do with us teaching overseas, we both feel it is important, and appropriate to update our life milestones further. Shannon and I recently found out that we are going to be welcoming a new addition to our family. She's pregnant! It's early, and we have a long way to go, a lot to learn, and a lot of preparation. However, we can speak to the fact that we are incredibly excited, anxious, nervous, and happy.
This blog has served us well over the course of the last five years or so. It has been a place for us to share our news and our lives with everyone we love. We hope those of you who read this are excited for us, and find it worthy as a post to this record of our adventures.
We will be sure to add stories of the absurd, difficulties, and further adventures related to this whole experience.
One of my least favorite things about teaching overseas is the limited availability of stuff in the host country. In Ecuador, we craved things that we couldn't have, like M&Ms, Buffalo Sauce, and clothes that fit. That is always going to be a challenge; desire for specific stuff. The result of these inevitable longings for specific possessions usually leads to supply runs when we go home for the summer. In previous years, we've stocked up suitcases full of protein powders, sauces, work clothes, and every and all other things we couldn't get. I would say on average, we have devoted 1/2 of our baggage on our return trips to bringing supplies back with us that we otherwise wouldn't have.
In preparation for a similar haul this summer, we sat down and made some lists of things we wanted to stock up on. During this process, it occurred to me that we actually have availability for most of the things we need here. Everything is much more accessible here than in Ecuador. That significantly decreased my "to purchase" list to a few things. One thing that remained was a new suit. We are required to wear them a few times per year on specific parent event days. Well, at least it was on my list until I heard about how reasonable custom suits are here.
About a week ago, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, when he mentioned he had a tailor. It turns out, his tailor helped him with more than alterations, he made custom suits. So off we went to go get a few made.
This particular journey took us through the dusty streets of Riyadh to a downtown area about 40 minutes away from our compound. When we got there, the shop was closed, because hours of operation are more like estimated timelines more than definitive expectations. So we waited outside of his tailor's shop for about a half hour. The area can best be described as a maze of cluttered shops. Connecting the spiderweb of concrete were dust filled alleyways guarded by mangled dirty cats, stricken with scars from probably fights over tumbleweeds of trash. It did not give off the impression of fine customized high fashion and luxury.
When the man and his partner decided to open up, we walked in to a store roughly the size of an average living room, with bolts of fabric stacked floor to ceiling. He had dozens and dozens different fabrics of the same shade of navy blue, the same for black and gray. He said that they varied in quality, thickness, and weight. Then, he had the dozens of different shades of each color, each with its own equally impressive stack of quality materials. It was overwhelming.
Having never purchased a custom fit suit before, I largely followed the lead of my friend. I picked out a color, picked out a fabric, got fitted, and tried on some sample options. The man discussed each and every aspect of the suit in a level of detail and care that was equally impressive and overwhelming. I had to pick the thickness of the collar, the vent style, the number of vents, the height of the vents, the depth of the pockets, the angles of the pockets, the fabric inner lining, color of the inner lining, the number of buttons, the placement of buttons, the desired circumference of space for the pants around my leg, the lay of the collar, preferences in length of the pant on a shoe, whether or not I wanted pockets inside of the jacket, the stitching pattern and placement. It was unbelievable.
Needless to say with my process, and my friend getting three suits, we were there for a while. While we were there I commissioned a few dress shirts to be custom made, and went through the process all over again, albeit at a smaller level of detail.
We paid a deposit on our suits and were asked to come back a week later for another fitting. After paying, and thinking for a moment about the likelihood that it would work out okay, we left with slightly lighter wallets and no assurances that we would in fact, get our suits. The cost of the suit, fully customized, was well under the prices of anything from a department store in the US, and it was being build for me around me, and with my specific requests. The shirts too, were about half of the cost of most nice dress shirts in the states.
Today, after hearing about my experience, Shannon and a friend of mine went to go check it out again, and for an updated fitting. Man, and I pleasantly surprised. The suit fit nearly perfectly. I tried it on and, while not done yet, it looked great. Some gaps in fabric and adjustments were made with a piece of chalk by the tailor and I was done. I will be returning in a week to get it all, two weeks in total to go from cloth on a shelf to a perfectly customized suit. My friend ordered a few and we were on our way. Now I'm left thinking of what other things I can use that excess suitcase space for on our return trip.
I just came across this saved in the drafts. I guess I never actually posted it. This was from September, when we first arrived.
So Saudi Arabia is hot. It’s sandy too. Like really sandy. We live on a compound that serves as somewhat of an oasis in terms of green space and amenities. The compound kind of exists within a bubble. It’s a proverbial snow globe of plenty within a desert landscape in some ways. However, there are some aspects of living in the desert that can’t be insulated within the confines of our concrete walls.
On our first day of school pre-planning, we wrapped up a long day of professional development, classroom prep, and lesson planning. My classroom is kind of tucked into a corner of the campus, with outdoor entrances on two walls. Two walls are entirely glass, which allows a lot of natural light into my classroom. The Social Studies area serves as kind of an outdoor hallway. The location’s relevance in this case, is depending on the time of the day, the front of the building obscures a bit of the sunlight that comes into my room. On this particular day, I noticed a clear absence of sunlight. I packed up my things and went outside to go get Shannon so we could go home and after stepping four feet outside, I realized that we were in the middle of some sort of MILD sandstorm. It was dark, winds were whipping, visibility was low, and my nose and mouth were slowly filled with a dusty sand. It was clearly mild. Most Saudis would probably argue that it was nothing more than a light breeze flowing through campus kicking up the smallest amount of sand. But for me, this tiny amount of sand equated to the dulling of three of my senses. I couldn’t see well. I couldn’t taste anything but dirt, and I smelled nothing but dust. It was surreal. I fought through it and took the outdoor stairs to Shannon’s hallway where I found four teachers hanging out. They had been told not to go outside or leave yet by a custodian due to a sandstorm. Sweet.
We’ve also been privileged to have seen dust devils rolling across the sandy plains while driving. For those who have no idea what I’m talking about, dust devils are sort of like tiny sand/dust tornadoes. They pop up super easily due to the relatively flat plains and ample loose sand. I didn’t get to take a picture of one because...driving, but the internet has a photo that will help explain it. The cool thing about these little guys is that you can CLEARLY see the tornado regardless of the size. I’m sure they can get big and scary but the 5 or 6 we’ve seen amounted to 60 foot tall, three foot wide tunnels of wind. Nothing crazy or dangerous. Just very unique and interesting.
The mini-sandstorm and the mini sandnados were pretty cool, and unique to me. But these are just
two examples of the prevalence of dust and sand in our landscape. I obviously expected lots of sand, but I did not expect the manifestations that we have seen. They were small events, but they got my wheels turning. About 80% of our whole campus is made of tile and glass. How was it even possible to keep everything so clean and pristine when sand whips up and covers everything in a moments notice? It would be like sweeping your front yard. Then, one day, in the morning, I got the answer to my question. I got to work early and found a fleet of maintenance workers driving tiny zambonis. They were kind of like John Deere riding lawnmowers, but zambonis. You know, the giant ice tractors they use at ice hockey arenas? They have a small nozzle that shoots water on the ice, then a squeegee to smooth it out as it passes over the area. The effect of the zamboni is that it fills the grooves and cuts in the ice with new water, and smooths it out so it becomes new ice again. Well they have those in Saudi for sand! These little zamboni tractors spray water on the tile ground, and mops the sand right up. It’s really interesting, and answered my questions about sand maintenance. That, in conjunction with constant washing, window cleaning, and wiping down keep our school pristine throughout the day despite the fact that we live in what essentially amounts to a sandbox with constant cross winds. Shout out to the maintenance crew.
Ahh Spring Break. It is without a doubt one of the most rewarding times of the year for a teacher. Spring brings new growth, flowers, warmth, and the hidden beauty of nature formerly hidden by frost and icy weather, for most of the world. For teachers, it is the time when students’ new school year enthusiasm, post winter break/New Year’s resolutions focus fades, and tedium sets in. In my experience as a teacher, I find that the time before spring break is one of the hardest to get through. Students are losing focus, motivation, and energy. Quite frankly teachers are too. The exhaustion of events, comment writing, grading, lesson planning, and multiple 60+ hour weeks strung together like ribbons on a May pole begun to unravel even the most well-intentioned teacher. Everyone needs a break. Well we finally got ours.
As mentioned, we were beat. We were exhausted and ready for a trip and while we have learned to enjoy some of the challenging aspects of living in Riyadh, and learned to cope with others, we wanted a break. It was time for us to escape the desert and go somewhere, preferably cold since the 100 degree weather returned. So, based on some recommendations we received from other teachers, we set off for Budapest, Hungary.
We left on the first flight out that we could make. Since our work weeks go from Sunday-Thursday, we set off for the first flight out on Thursday after a long week. That first flight, like many flights leaving the Middle East, was scheduled for a 1am departure. It seems this is an unfortunate trend for us. Since the Middle East is so close to many European, or Southeast Asian travel hubs for connecting flights, one of the busiest times is in that 1am-3am window. After an unclear delay of an hour and a half standing in the boarding line, we got on our plane headed for our layover in Paris. After getting maybe a combined 50 min. of sleep, we arrived in Paris with the deliberate intention of a 30 hour layover, with which we could explore the city for a day.
We checked into our hotel after clearing customs and Shannon immediately went down for a nap. While she slept, I plotted out our afternoon. We were planning on getting up at 5am the next day for our next flight, so our exploration of Paris was going to be a short one. After getting her up and out of bed, we went out into the frigid weather of winter Paris. We wandered around the Eiffel Tower, took the obligatory photos, walked around a bit, and after a short time exploring, went to go eat some cheese, soup, and bread before an early evening in the hotel.
We purposefully stayed at a hotel away from all of the attractions, but close to the airport for convenience. So when we arranged for a taxi to pick us up at the hotel in the morning, we didn’t think much of it. The ride that had cost us 15 euro the day before ended up costing us 32! I argued with the guy. He told me it was my fault he had to wake up early so there was a surcharge, I argued back. It was like the Chile incident all over again. The only difference was he didn’t call me a pirate. Although other words were exchanged in French and English. We called the hotel from the car, it was a whole thing. But, we weren’t going to let that spoil our trip to France or our Spring Break that we were look forward to.
When we finally got to Budapest, it was relatively early. We decided that since we were going to be staying in Budapest, we HAD to stay in the Grand Budapest Hotel, or at least the hotel it was based on. For those who are unaware:
Anyway, we dropped off our stuff and went out to go exploring. We wandered our way down a few streets and found ourselves at an Easter Festival. Similar to the Christmas Markets in Berlin, the whole festival was set up around a usually empty park square. There were food stands, beer stands, wine stands, handmade crafts, a stage for bands to perform, and seemingly everything else you could want. There, we discovered the wonder that is Hungarian goulash and hand painted beautiful Easter eggs. It is apparently a long standing tradition to make and paint Easter eggs in Hungary. Women use tiny hammers to heat wax and draw designs on chicken eggs, goose eggs, or even ostrich eggs. They then carve out the shells, and decorate them with intricate designs of flowers, cityscapes, or anything else they want. They also make them out of wood, ceramic, or other materials. They were beautiful and amazing.
After walking through the market a bit, we found our way to the Danube River. We stopped in restaurants along the way as we walked up and down the river, and then walked across the beautiful chain bridge connecting the Buda side of the city to the Pest side. When we got there, we took the funicular up the side of a large hill called “Castle Hill.” The funicular is a funky elevator meets cable car going up what were kind of stairs, and kind of a slope. It’s hard to describe. When we got to the top, we found ourselves at the foot of Buda Castle. It was first built in 1250 but was redesigned in the mid 1700s, and again adjusted and maintained a few times since then for upkeep and repair. It was gigantic. You could see that while the castle was very old, it was well preserved. In some parts, old stone had been replaced with brick, or different stone to maintain the structural integrity. The effect was one of a woven tapestry of stone and rock holding up the idea of a place revered throughout Hungary.
Oh, and this was the castle where Vlad Tepes, as in Vlad the Impaler, as in Dracula, was held prisoner. The thermal waters that run below Budapest carved our a long labyrinth that was used as a prison, torture chamber, and catacomb. Unfortunately, this was closed to us, but we were able to go to the site. We walked around the castle grounds and walked towards the rest of the Buda side of the city, which is considerably smaller but very charming. The Buda side of the city consisted of cobblestone streets, towering Gothic churches and homes and taverns all around. We stopped in a small restaurant where I had some paprika goulash. Apparently paprika is a big part of their cuisine. They have many different types and many of the dishes are heavily seasoned with it. I found the smokey flavor to be delightful.
We left the restaurant to find ourselves back in the cobblestone streets, but in a deluge. The rain was
refreshing, and a welcome sight coming from Saudi, but given the relatively cold temperatures, we were ready to move on. We walked the streets until we found a taxi and we rode down Castle Hill to the Hungarian Parliament building. We tried to get a tour after marveling at it from the outside, but they were full. Apparently everyone else in the city got the same idea when the rain hit. So after checking it out and taking some photos, we took a cab back to our Grand Budapest Hotel, where we hung out for a little while. We read a bit until the rain passed, and then went back out to dinner later in the evening. While we were out, we found ourselves at a restaurant that served terrible food, so we left again, and...rain. It started pouring on us. However, this time, fueled by hunger(y...sorry I had to) and renewed resolve, we found ourselves a shawarma shop, and scarfed down some street food before going back for the night.
The next day was relatively low key. We slept in, had some coffee, and went back to the Easter
Festival for some lunch. Shannon had some goulash, which was the first beef she’s eaten since I’ve known her! We went back to the hotel, read a bit more, and found our way to the hotel’s spa. We each got massages and swam in the pool. We went out to dinner afterwards (no rain this time!) and walked back. We found the city to be incredibly friendly for walking. We were able to walk nearly everywhere and the city is organized in a way that everything is relatively centrally located.
On our third day in Budapest, we checked out of the hotel and went to the famous NY Cafe. It was built in 1894 and served as a swanky social gathering for wealthy city goers. Cafe culture is very big in Hungary and we were not disappointed. The cafe was beautiful. Everything was made of marble. There were arched doorways and gilded fixtures everywhere. The waiters work full tuxedos and intricate carvings and paintings surround us everywhere. We had some coffee and cakes and made our way out, feeling more like upscale turn of the century socialites than the backpack wearing tourists we were.
When we were done, we checked into an Air B&B that we rented a few blocks away. We rolled our
suitcases through the street, because, as I said, everything is walkable. Then we did some grocery shopping and found ourselves down on the Danube, again walking from tavern to restaurant to shop, stopping along the way. At this point, we were finally feeling relaxed. But we wanted to push our luck a little further and take ourselves to the famous Szechenyi Thermal Baths of Budapest on the other side of town. When we arrived, we came to a huge monument called Heroes Square. In the square, there is a huge, column of carvings. Atop the column is a statue of the Archangel Gabriel holding the Hungarian Crown. It too, dates back to the late 1800s and all around the column, statues of various heroes of Hungarian and Austrian history stand, regal and proud. (Austrian figures because at the time it was built, it was still the Austro-Hungarian Empire, not two separate countries) The statues contained kings, saviors of various subjugated groups, and military leaders. It was a really cool tribute to a country’s history and marked a UNESCO World Heritage site.
After we visited the square, which served as the entrance to the park, we happened across another castle. Yes, we just happened across a castle. This one was called Vajdahunyad Castle, and it was built in 1896 to commemorate a millennium of Hungarian History. It was designed using different styles like Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque influences and it was modeled after several monuments of the Hungarian Empire. Some of the models included the Hunyad Castle in Romania (Transylvania) and a few others. It was first build with cardboard and wood as a part of the city celebration, but was later rebuild with stone and wood. Now, it’s a castle in the middle of a park. But it gets better. The reason we found this castle, was because of the music. There was another festival! That’s right, we had wandered in a park, found a castle, and happened upon a castle party. It was tremendous luck. In the party, there were more crafts for sale, food, jewelry, music, meat, and of course, beer. We got some refreshments and sat down on the grass, marveling in the fact that we were at a castle party, and that’s when I heard the soft, smooth tones of a familiar note. It was panflute! I told Shannon excitedly. Then I went over to find the source, and it was three men playing music and selling handmade crafts in the park. And yes, they were Ecuadorian. What a small world! We randomly found a castle party in a park in Hungary. In this party, we found Ecuadorians. In Hungary. We chatted for a few minutes before moving onto the Szechenyi pools.
The Szechenyi Thermal Baths are located in the middle of the park. They channel the thermal waters from below the city and make a public swimming and lounge area. Built around the pools are beautiful yellow stone buildings including cafes, bars, and changing rooms. When we got to the baths, it was gorgeous. The steam rose up from the water and into the cool air, which juxtaposed with the bright yellow stone and blue, cloudless sky, made for an inviting image; that is, until you looked down. The pools were about the size of olympic sized swimming pools. Inside of these pools sat dozens and dozens and DOZENS of people. I am not afraid of public pools, nor am I averse to public thermal baths, Papallachta is one of my favorite places on earth. But this was not that. This was human being soup. Body broth. I’m sure it’s very nice when it isn’t that busy. But this was not that. This was countless men, women, and children in their speedos, marinating in their own collective juices. This was water so populated with warm bodies that one couldn’t possibly look upon it and not think of the oils and hairs floating through the water. It was as if these beautiful pools were a large mug, and the people inside served as the tea, with their essence steeping in the mineral laced waters. Nope. We were good. We took a photo, noted the beauty, and went back to the castle party.
When we left, we resolved to walk back to the apartment rather than cab. It was, after all, a beautiful day. We did not anticipate the length of our walk however. We followed our map, and when we came to a local landmark, we discovered a wall. So we walked around it and discovered a mall, that was closed. Then we walked around that, and around another neighborhood. By the time we had walked back to the hotel, we had logged well over 13 miles for the day. Needless to say, I got some takeout, brought it back to the apartment, and relaxed until we fell asleep.
The next day, we walked to the local train station, found out which train to take, and hopped aboard, hoping that we weren’t headed towards the wrong place. There were no signs in English, and no real guidance. But, we were prepared and ready for an adventure, so we got on a train, headed for Austria. We opened our books, and two hours later, we got off the train, in the right city!
We got off of the train in Vienna and started walking the streets. The first thing that struck us was how clean everything was. While Budapest was clean as well, it’s combination of gothic architecture, Eastern Orthodox domes, Russian influenced swirly bulbous building toppers, dark stone, castles, and in some places, graffiti was a stark contrast. In the part of Vienna we walked through, we were surrounded by pristine white marble everywhere. The streets were clean enough to eat off of and landscaping was clearly a priority. Parks, lines of trees, bushes, and flowers all lined the sidewalks. Maybe it was because it contrasted so much with what we were used to in the desert, but it was a stark and obvious contrast from Budapest, and from Riyadh. We walked the streets, past more pubs, restaurants, churches, and boutique shops towards our ultimate goal, the holy pilgrimage sight of Shannon’s family, the famous Hotel Sacher.
As an outsider, I can only report on what I know, but legend has it, the Sacher family established the hotel in 1876 in Vienna. It’s prime location by the opera house, and it’s fancy interior made it a world renowned hotel, a sign of luxury, and a status symbol of wealth and opulence. It also happened to be a family connection to Shannon and her family. Perhaps most importantly, it is the creation site of one of the world’s most famous desserts, the Sacher Torte. For the time I have known them, there have been conversations about a hypothetical great pilgrimage to the hotel for a family tribute and of course, some cake.
When we got to the hotel, it was even fancier than the New York Cafe. Marble, deep blood red velvet, and gilded shimmering statues dotted the building. It was opulent without being overly or obnoxiously ostentatious. We were seated in a velvet booth overlooking the street and the opera house upstairs, and indulged on some of the best cakes we had ever had. We split a sacher torte, which for lack of appropriate writing ability to do justice, is a decadent chocolate cake, sliced in half, with a light apricot jam layered in the middle and on top. It’s then topped with a smooth, but almost crunchy chocolate icing and stamped with the company seal. We also, because Austria, had an apfelstrudel and some coffee. After our meal, and taking countless photos, and reading about the Sacher family, we went and grabbed some lunch. Yes, cake and then lunch after.
After lunch we went back to the train and headed back for Budapest. So we traveled 5 hours, into a new country, to have cake. But it was much more than that. It was a tribute to the family, it was a reconnection to Shannon’s ancestral homeland, and it was a great opportunity to see a new place and go on a new adventure.
When we got back, we went out to dinner and checked out the ruin pub district by our apartment.
Ruin pubs are a notorious hallmark of Budapest. The story behind them is they are located in the Jewish Quarter of the city. After WWII, many buildings were damaged throughout Budapest, the Jewish Quarter was one of the sectors hit the hardest. It was left in disrepair, so naturally an underground bar/restaurant scene took over. Old, decaying buildings began to be filled with bar stools, decorations on the wall, and food. It is literally an underground bar scene as the buildings and bars are mostly held in the basements of former apartment buildings, offices, and the like. We checked out one of the most famous ones called, Szimpla Kert. It was a wild array of lights, artifacts, weird decorations, and arranged in a not awful and loud and smelly way; as is sometimes common with underground overly decorated bars.
Our trip was full of stuff. We were out and about every day, so we decided to take the last day relatively easy. We woke up late, and wandered the city streets one more time. We came to the Grand Central Market and shopped around the food markets and handcrafted goods. We picked up some pastries for our walk, and some Hungarian paprika to bring home with us. We made one last stop back at the Easter market and Shannon did a bit of shopping. We enjoyed one more dinner out again and got set for our trip home the next morning.
The trip was eventful. It was restful. It was a restorative combination of relaxation and adventure. It was exactly what we needed to tackle the last stretch of school before we go off for the summer.
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.
