Your Home is Behind You

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."  -Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

My first post after arriving in Japan pondered the possibility that it was better to be a tourist than to live here.  After two years I'm not sure I figured it out.  On one hand, I have had far more experiences and learned much more than I ever could have hoped, even if I'd spent every vacation I had in the last two years in Japan.  However, the truth remains that work was...challenging, at best...and my salary low enough that after two years I've decimated* my savings.  It was a two-year whirlwind, but the school year finally edged its way into thankful oblivion.  I got my Mongolian visa, eventually** finished packing and cleaning, and headed back to the States for the summer.

Iowa might not exactly be my favorite place in the world, but it's got a few things in its favor, other than my family.  There are times that I think you could film a live-action Studio Ghibli film here.  Although spaces as green as the shady spot in a corner of my dad's field are few and far between, the sheer numbers of fireflies are mind-boggling, and the number of butterflies this year was just unreal.  I mean, every time I drove anywhere I felt like I was mowing down nature, although this presented an excellent opportunity to collect...let's say...art materials, although I don't have a project in mind yet.  It was also pretty cool to feel like I was stepping into the Shire whenever I left the house.

Under the circumstances, maybe it was inevitable that I'd want to celebrate achieving Level 40 with a bonfire/fairy party.  I spent so long making wings for the various Winter Lords and Summer Ladies that it didn't turn out to be quite as big a dog and pony show as I originally envisioned, but that was probably for the best.  The kids had fun playing together and the mortals invited to the revel all went away unscathed and still in fashion, as we broke up the fairy ring somewhere short of a hundred years.  

A couple of days before that my old rival and fellow Faerie Queen, Baby Chicken Wing, invited me to go see Japanese schoolgirls (and one schoolboy) play in a handbell choir.  Could there possibly be a better event for me?  I say nay.  Both of us were familiar from handbells from attending a certain church in our hometown...Babysis turned down the opportunity because she still goes there, thus it ain't no thing for her...so we kind of had expectations about what a handbell choir would be like.  Which they proceeded to smash with their first song, the main theme from Star Wars.  They played some jazz, a traditional Japanese song, Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers...of course they played a couple of hymns, but they were so completely entertaining to watch that these couldn't even be compared to the old ladies that play at church.  My mind was also occupied with thoughts of the social dynamics of the boy in the cultural club from a Japanese high school, when it wasn't busy thinking that I ought to reread the Old Kingdom Series by Garth Nix (necromancers with handbells...you tell me YOU wouldn't have been thinking it, too).

The family, on the other hand, convinced me to go to the zoo with them.  Okay, it was actually Shaggy - I figured if he drove (just under) 5 hours (in his new Beemer, no kids or dogs, obvs) to celebrate with me I could brave the heat and sun, especially when he promised we weren't staying all day.  He kept referring to the Henry Doorly Zoo as "the best zoo in the world," and while it is a damn fine zoological park I have reservations about it being the worlds' best, although since zoos aren't really my thing, I can't provide any annoying counterarguments.  It was neat to see how much it's changed since the last time I was there, which was probably around 10 years ago, and I loved seeing the niblings together.  Later I shared the photos with the family, prompting my dad to admit this might be the best way to experience the zoo.

On my actual level-up day my Mom and I packed up the niblings - detained to give their mom the chance to get shit done - and headed down to Shaggy's place.  This is kind of important, since it gives me the chance to visit my grandmother and my great uncle along the way, but what I was really looking forward to was...less a mini-reunion than a micro one, since it's always just me and the Nice One.  

That said, this is the third or fourth summer we've gotten together to catch up, providing some much needed sanity and at least a couple of reality checks.  Also, a good browse through Barnes and Noble and more food than is probably a good idea.  I mean, seriously, America!  Who puts brisket on a burger?***  And THEN tops it with a bajillion onion straws???  That thing won't even fit in your mouth!  For the record, I ended up knocking most of the onions out of the middle and eating them dipped in sauce, which, also for the record, was excellent, but probably made the order of onion straws we ordered as a side totally unnecessary.  Hours later we chased it with custard from Andy's, which Shaggy pointed out they sell at the restaurant, but even if he has room for ice cream after a burger like that, I sure as hell didn't.  We discussed taking a road trip for our next act, and now that I've seen this year's school schedule, we might actually be able to make that into a mini-reunion after all...the Evil One's going to be Stateside in January and with a longer vacation the fates may, perchance, align.  We shall see.

Somehow vacation was over before I felt like it had really started.  My mom always complains that my holidays are too short, but this time I couldn't really argue...in spite of the fact that I spent a whole month at home, it seemed to fly by.  I'm not really complaining, since I'm happy to be back in Mongolia, although I'll be a lot happier once school starts and I get to spend time with my kids.  Still, it felt strangely short, the way time is a little different in the realms of faerie, where a year can go by in the space of a cicada's song.  There aren't any of those here in UB, but I have a feeling the next year will pass in the blink of an eye nonetheless...

*I mean that very literally...I have 10% of the savings that I had two years ago.  But if my parents are reading this right now, fear not - I'm planning to save more this go-round.
**6 a.m. the day I left Japan...
***Blaaack Sheep, that's who.

Grey Skies Over Mongolia

"Choose your last words,
This is the last time.
'Cause you and I -
We were born to die."

The mournful strains of Lana del Rey floated across the valley from the other tourist camp as Five and I descended from our hike up to the source of the hot springs.  We - along with Engrish - had made the long trek out to Tsenkher because a.) I'd bailed on the school ger camp the previous weekend (because 24 hours is too long for me to be with my coworkers) but still wanted fresh air, and b.) I've been working on my exit plan, and wanted to be sure I got to go again.  A year goes by faster than you'd think.

I hadn't even gotten through my first year in Mongolia before I started to consider that maybe, perhaps, I would stay until my brats - those kids who were in my homeroom class my first year - graduated.  At that time, I'd never stayed longer than two years in one place at a time...and two years really felt like stretching it.  But I liked my school, and I loved my kids, and before I knew it, I'd been here for four. When you've been in one place that long, it seems like you could stay forever.  Or that's how I feel, anyways.  Going on five years, what's another?  Hell, another five, even?  My seventh graders get on famously with me...maybe I should stay and see them graduate.  Shouldn't I hold onto a good thing?  How do you know when it's time to leave?

Well, I know.  I can tell because my blogs have slowed to a trickle.  I don't get excited about going out and coming up with new stuff to do. I can tell by the way I feel the cold.  On the way to Tsenkher, we stayed the night with Enkhaa's friends again, as we did the last time.  When Engrish and I went with Geek 3 years ago, we had a measly dung fire that never got started properly, but I was warm enough.  Maybe I brought my sleeping bag that time; I can't remember, but since it's a pain to roll up, I probably did the same thing then as now - left it at home and shivered in the cold.  This time it was the longest night I can remember spending in a very long time, and it was only winter's opening maneuvers.  It snowed for the first time the day I started writing this. I can tell because I tear up anytime I hear a stupid song like "Born to Die," talking about endings.  But what is life except a series of endings?  You might as well embrace it and live a badass life with as few "ragrets" as you can manage.

The skies on the ride out to Tsenkher were cloudy, but Enkhaa the Fearless kept slogging through a week's worth of mud til we made it there.  Five kept insisting, "There's a bit of blue sky - let's chase it!" but although I appreciate a good Austen novel, I never really identified with Marianne.  Grey skies suited my mood as I contemplated the coming year - the hassle of finding a new job, the challenge of finding new challenges for myself.  It's ironic that I've chosen this life, because I hate moving, hate upending my life, and as much as I love diving into a new place and experiencing everything it has to offer, it scares the shit out of me, thinking I might flop.  Ever since my year in Bahrain, I wonder if I'll be able to find new friends, if my school will be a good one.  And that's assuming I can even find a job.  For the first time in my expat life, I'm not okay with going wherever the wind blows me, and I can't just go back to GDA failing all else, which was my old contingency plan.  This year, the wind damn well better blow me to Japan...but if I can't manage that before my decision date, what do I do?  Sign on for another year?  Or have a little faith?

Well, we did eventually get a little sun - even before we were on our way back, which is when I took this photo.  As amazing a driver as Enkhaa is, I admit I was a little worried that if it rained too much while we were in Tsenkher that we'd get stuck there, and so I prayed.  I prayed we'd be safe, I prayed we'd have a little sun, I prayed that I wouldn't be as cold the second night as I was the first (Five and Engrish claimed they weren't cold that night, but I think they're crazy.  I would have been cold even with a sleeping bag).  And everything was fine.  I'm Mormon, and I do believe in a higher power, that our prayers are heard by a being that cares for us, so I guess I shouldn't be as nervous about leaving Mongolia as I am...but I am. 

Set the Wayback Machine to...2014

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving." 

I read Terry Pratchett's A Hat Full of Sky in 2006 when I was doing my short, second stint in Korea.  It ends with the above quote, and even though I wasn't planning on moving home then (and haven't really been on planning on it since), I fell in love with it, because to me, it meant that "coming back" wasn't a failure or an ending...just a new chapter.

Of course, it doesn't prepare you for how hard coming back can be, and it definitely doesn't make it easier when you leave again.  The thing is that when you see people every day, they don't seem to change much, but when you come home twice a year (or less) the little differences add up.  And while you may get used to how your parents and siblings change after one year, niblings grow up quick.  The Princess (in Mongolian mode this summer thanks to Aunt Becky the Great) turns five this fall.  Five!  I have this fear that they'll forget me before I come home again, and this is probably why I've noticed that the leaving has become increasingly difficult in the last several years.  (Not that this means I'm going to stop, Mom...)

What I mean to say with all this babbling is that my "ten-years-an-expat" countdown ends tonight back where I started - in Missouri.  I was really looking forward to coming home and seeing the family, and through email we planned to come down to Shaggy's farmhouse (it has a pool in its favor!)  The only person who couldn't make it was...Gameboy (I just realized I've never given my other brother a code name!  How lame am I?!?)...who had to work, which was a bummer, but, you know what's going to win in a battle between true family togetherness and a pool.

Once your parents become grandparents, it's all over for the spinster aunts and uncles.  Nothing you do ever was or ever will be as cute as what your niblings will do.  Luckily for me, in my family the niblings are actually as cute and smart as my mom tells her Lunch Bunch buddies, and although it's kind of weird (even after five years) to watch my parents be grandparents, it's good to know they are enjoying their retirement years.

Last spring I had one of my darling juniors (now seniors!  I'm not ready to start thinking about them graduating!!!) tell me I'd make a great mom.  Since her statement was provoked by my suggestion that she use a better pair of scissors to cut the legs off her pants, I had to laugh and tell her I make a much better aunt.  Not only because my advice was somewhat dubious (maybe she shouldn't have been cutting the legs off her pants), but because I know what great moms look like.  Exhibit A:  Abby, my sister-in-law.  Sticky floors and happy children (except without the sticky floors).  Exhibit B:  My Mom - hell, she's gotta be great if she raised me!  Finally, Exhibit C:  Babysis.  My Babysis can be - how can I put it delicately?  I probably can't, so we'll leave it at, "Takes one to know one."  That said, I pity the person who messes with Bunny.  Babysis is organized and determined, and she would do anything for Bunny.  She's also a helluva cook and gorgeous - it's a good thing I'm the older sister or I might have an inferiority complex (the size of Canada's).

All that said, in spite of how hard it is to leave them, not only do I make a better aunt, I think I like it more.  You have the lack of full-time responsibility (like a grandparent) but you're young enough to have fun with your niblings (like a parent).  It's the best of both worlds...at least until I buy Dirt Devil his first bow and arrow.

Grub Club: Vikas

Tonight Engrish was going to take us to the North Korean restaurant.  PE even "arranged" for her daughter to be sick, because she's totally afraid of North Koreans.  Well, she hasn't dodged that bullet yet, because when we showed up, the restaurant there wasn't North Korean.  Apparently it had moved.  After a quick consultation, we decided to go try Vikas, an Italian restaurant next door to Ceylonta that had caught our eye.

As far as Italian food goes, it was not the best meal I've ever had.  Or maybe not the most authentic is a more apt description, because the food was actually great.  I started with the bruschetta, which came with a little bit of salad, and it was excellent.  Domestic Goddess tried the "Greek" salad, which had feta and olives but otherwise didn't resemble a Greek salad at all - no olive oil or balsamic, and lots of lettuce.  Delicious, but not Greek, and, for that matter, not Italian.

 I was torn over several dishes, and ended up having the "Tour of Italy," as did Five.  It included chicken parmesan, alfredo, and lasagna.  Each bite was more scrumptious than the last, but the lasagna was the best of all.  It had a more herb-a-riffic flavor than the lasagna at Veranda.

Domestic Goddess went for some sort of chicken thing - pollo vikas, they called it.  She said it was good, but again, not particularly Italian.

To take home to their son, instead of the dog she'd promised him (and I mean dog to eat, not to play with...we were supposed to be eating North Korean, after all, and he said he was going to start trying more things) she ordered the carbonara (a fact which, I'm sure, relieved him).  She was kind enough to let me try a few bites of it, and it was nice, although it was definitely NOT the rigatoni carbonara at Bene Bene in Shanghai - yum, yum, yum).  I also ordered the cheesecake, and this was a great decision on my part, even if I do say so myself.  After the cinnamon banana thing I had at Ceylonta, this might be my favorite dessert in UB.  It was that good.

Tonight is, FYI, a hard night.  It is with truly heavy hearts that we are sending off our very own Lit...at some time in the near future (she was actually supposed to leave tonight, but we were lucky enough that her flight got cancelled - not sure yet how much longer we have her - ie, when she will be rescheduled).  I haven't mentioned it before, but our school is cursed.  We've had family deaths, divorce, and cancer, and now Lit is amongst those the curse has struck.  She's leaving for medical treatment, and may not be back.  And I am NOT okay with her leaving - I've kind of been a mess over the last few days.  She is an inspiration to me, as she has faced some bad shit with humor and hope, and she's leaving a huge hole in our world.

She got us tonight's taxi ride free.  A guy pulled over to drive us home and the five of us piled in, and no sooner were we in than she and Geek commented that once they've had their boob jobs four grown women won't fit in the back of a car anymore.  The driver laughed, but didn't say anything, so I assumed he was laughing at all the crazy foreigners wedged into the back of his car like the bunch of clowns that we totally are.  And so we continued to talk about all sorts of things that we won't talk about in front of an English speaking driver.  He turned on his blinker before we told him to stop at the gate - he might have guessed that one - but before we could ask him how much he told us not to worry about it, it was free.  He was a cutie, too, with a nice voice.  It made tonight a little easier.

"It was the best of times; It was the worst of times"

Welp, it's the end of an era...an era of sweat, blood, and tears. It is 12:35 at night here in RAK, about 33 hours before I leave this sweatshop backwater camel jockey country behind for good. I'm at school, yet again, because I got them to allow facebook on my computer for the last week, having no internet at home anymore.

How can I sum up this experience?

In my time I have not blown up my cooker, destroyed my fridge, caused any floods, or been traumatized by my washing machine. As far as I know, I haven't made a single student cry. I haven't given anyone the verbal barrage they so desperately deserve (FYI - Monty, Karen, Jacquie, and Melissa, you all made the short list)...although email is a wonderful thing... I haven't made any enemies (at least not actively). I've lost about 30 pounds of good ol' American flab (but unfortunately have another 30 to go...) I have managed not to blow my top over the UAE's human rights violations (such as making NRI's do hard labor in 50C weather, teaching their sons about sex via prostitutes, or imprisoning maids unfortunate enough to get pregnant because they were raped by their sponsors)...but only because I know there are things I can do nothing about and can't think about too much because they will make me so upset I might do something illegal.

On the other hand, I haven't gone desert camping, I never saw the Empty Quarter, I have added NO new recipes to my repertoire, and my Arabic has improved only by 4 words: left, right, how much, and yes (thank you, Socrates). And I have sleepwalked through a lot of this year.

On yet another hand (I may be turning into Shiva...) I managed to avoid some of my mistakes made in Bahrain. I had friends here. I didn't buy a car. I think I might have actually improved as a teacher during this year. There were times that I felt really unsure of myself, but the last couple of units I've taught were good, and I think I'm finally starting to understand the PYP. I wanted Stephanie to be a more personable administrator - she's very different from John or Kit, although since she was let go, I've seen a much more human side to her that makes me wonder if she didn't sacrifice that warmth for the sake of being "professional", but at the end of the day, the tension I felt because I wasn't completely sure where I stood with her did keep me pushing myself to understand the curriculum and how to work with the teachers.

I'm still processing it all. I wish I'd had the internet at home this week - I've forgotten things I was going to write in here, this was never meant to be one big cumulative report. I'm sure I'll remember some of those bits and bring them up later, but for now, let me finish with yet another Wicked quote:

"Who can tell if I've been changed for the better? (I believe I have been changed for the better.) Because I knew you I have been changed for good."

Masalaam, RAK. Hallo, London!

The Final Countdown

Two weeks from today I will be in London. Two weeks from today I was supposed to be in Iowa, but the fact is that as long as I get to go to London and still be home before the family reunion, I'll live with the fact that the travel agent screwed me over. I have a plane ticket, I have my passports, if I get my ass in gear I might even have money by the time Thursday's over.

There are lots of logistics involved in picking up and moving halfway around the world. You can't live somewhere for a year without picking up some detritus. I've been leaving my books behind - just gave away the whole House of Night series to a TA I knew would appreciate it - and am putting together a bag of clothes for the GETH charity. Still, it seems there is more to do. I've got two boxes and a suitcase to send to Socrates' future residence, and I'm going to ship a box or so of my own stuff while I'm at it. I've sold most of the stuff I needed to, and tomorrow I'll go shut off my internet so that I can pick up my pay at the end of the week.

This is the way things are winding down here. I'm not even sad - I just wish it was over already. I don't regret coming here; at times it has been a monumental pain in the ass, and as times I've felt very alone, but in just about every single way it's been better than it was in Bahrain, and meeting Socrates was the cherry on top. On the other hand, it was not the experience Korea was - maybe if it were, I wouldn't be leaving.

Last Thursday I went on a consular run to pick up my new passport. Since I had to take the whole day off, anyways, it turned into shopping trip, part two, and afterwards I met the girls and went up Burj Khalifa (the world's tallest building). Don't get me wrong - it was fun dropping 1000 dirhams like it was hot, and pretty amazing looking going up to have a look around. But it says a lot about the artificiality of this place, that it's a destination built solely on being the biggest, built on sating your consumer lusts. From the Burj you look out beyond the mall and Sheikh Zayed Rd and realize that the place is a desert - there are a few outcroppings of tall, futuristic buildings, but just beyond the oasis it's only a big, ugly desert.

There is very little of historic importance to see, 99% of the mosques don't welcome non-Muslim visitors, and most of the belly dancers are Russian or Brazilian. There's driving and whoring and shopping to your heart's content, but if you want to ride a real Arabian stallion, or learn about carpet weaving, or how to play a tabla drum, in other words, to see the warp and weft that the nouveau riche UAE is built on, you're going to be hard pressed to do so.

Hallelujah!

The old passport is back in my possession, I'm going to be an art teacher full-time still next year, and we are down to a mere 23 days before I blow this popsicle stand. Oh, and since I have to return to the consulate to pick up the new passport, I'm going to have to take ANOTHER day off school (oh darn). I'm thinking I'll park at Mall of the Emirates this time, take the metro from there, and afterwards play in the snow. Oh, and shop. Can't forget the shopping. Have two days in London at the end of this hell with a sexy man; I needs me some new threads. Party on, Wayne!

I've been working diligently to cram in as much fun, new experiences as possible before I go, with a little help from my friends. This Friday past we hit the Wafi rooftop for "Peanut Butter Jam" - a bunch of little expat bands playing rock covers (I knew I was going to enjoy it when the first full song we heard was the one about living next door to Alice...)

...

Sometime during the night someone said, "What do you think, you feel up to Atlantis tomorrow?" and thus Trish, Carol, and I ended up going to the waterpark out on the Jumeirah Palm. Well, I've gotta be honest with you - after making the hour+ trek down for the third time in 24 hours, not driving but navigating which is actually more stressful, and realizing it was REALLY hot and I was REALLY not up for a sunburn, I was not in the best mood and I'm afraid I ditched Carol and Trish for longer than I intended to (started heading down the lazy river, which, it turns out, is much longer than the one at Fun Plex). I sat for a while and read, wondering if they'd turn up, and then decided I'd man up and go down the "Leap of Faith" - the nearly-vertical waterslide that zips down the front of Aquaventure's distinctive ziggurat slide complex. This slide is particularly cool because before it spits you out with a major wedgie (and, in Trish's case, with your boobies exposed - yay for my one-piece!) it shoots you through a shark-infested aquarium. Not that you can see it, because you're going too fast, but if you can manage to keep your eyes open a slit whilst water is sluicing up from your feet, you can see a kinda blue-green blur during three-tenths of the second you're on the ride.

Well, when I made my way back down to the chairs, Trish and Carol were getting out of the water, and so we ended up doing the rest of the slides together and having a blast. We hit Dubai mall on the way past for Taco Bell (for the first time in almost a year...yum, yum, yum, said Max) and tickets for next Thursday to the top of Burj Khalifa. While we were there I imposed on them to stay for the fountain show, which was on my list of things to do before leaving. I gotta say, it was pretty spectacular - the fountain was timed to a piece of Arabic music and it was almost like the streams of water were liquid belly dancers, the way they spun and undulated. But as I was sitting there I couldn't help but remember sitting in the shadow of the Burj eating lunch a few months back with Evil and Socrates, and feeling a little lost. I may not be alone here, but the world is lonely when you don't have a best friend to look to.