A Middle Eastern Halloween

When I lived in Bahrain, Halloween came and went without much notice. Well, I don't know what it is...maybe the bigger international community, maybe the Halloween cupcake my TA, Olga, gave me on Thursday, but this weekend has felt like Halloween, through and through.

That night, one of the secondary teachers organized a party at the sailing club. I arrived, fashionably late...I went to check out the belly dancer at the Hilton, but she was dancing at their party instead, but the walk there and back kind of helped me get over my experience from last week...dressed as - drumroll, please - a belly dancer.

Yes, I've been a belly dancer for Halloween before. Also, since I actually AM a belly dancer, it's doesn't really fit American criteria for a Halloween costumes (British Halloween costumes, I've been informed, are supposed to be scary. Which I guess means it's okay to dress like a witch even if you are one). I'm lazy. Get over it.

So anyways, I showed up late and left early, and in between had a pretty good time. It was fabulous doing the Time Warp in my belly dance gear, and I do kind of like the sailing club, even if it's not the most comfortable place to spend an evening. I was still up when the rest of the crew got in, and I ended up over at Melissa's for a while.

Which ended up being another late night...also known as, not so conducive to the whole church thing. And I wasn't really into the whole potluck thing here in the Sharjah ward. Don't get me wrong, Mormon friends...I love a potluck as much as anyone, especially when it gives me the chance to show off my mad cooking skills in front of the single men, but the Sharjah ward is too big and our building a bad configuration to allow it, but for reasons that I'll leave out of this, they seem to be a major thing here in the Bahrain Manama stake (formerly the Arabian Peninsula stake). I walked Kellie to get a taxi, ate two bites of caramel apple, and proceeded to sit and wait, bored, for 45 minutes to go home.

I had good intentions to take a nap, but got a call first from Melissa, who wanted to go into Dubai that night, and then from one of the belly dancers over here, Sabriye, who knows RAK a bit and Dubai a lot and let me pick her brain. Actually, it was a big week for belly dance. I shot an email to Lydia, who I'd like to start taking lessons with once I get wheels, and got a nice response from her, and the Hilton has apparently hired a dancer now. Oh, and I'm planning to do some shopping for costume bits over Eid in Dubai, and taking in some of the area dancers, who seem to rotate between restaurants, which makes them hard to keep track of. But such is life.

Well, I didn't go into Dubai. At the last minute (partly for reasons I will only fess up to if you ask), I decided I just didn't want to go. I wanted to go to Asiana for dinner (where I randomly met five Korean men out to dinner and got to use my dozen or so Korean words, although I turned down their offer of a drink), and picked up a few groceries at Carrefour. Today turned out to be a really good one. It didn't start on the best note because skype kept dicking me around, but me and Melissa randomly decided to go looking for what passes for forts around RAK. We saw the one by Saqr Park and the one in Nakheel, and went looking for a third, but got distracted by a beach (where we picked up some really nice shells for the costume I'd like to make if I ever finish all the other costumes I'm working on) and a rather lovely sand dune that we climbed barefoot and took pictures on and watched the sunset. Back in RAK I put together the little bookshelf I bought to house my projector, and ordered pizza for me, Paul, Tony, and Melissa, and FINALLY watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show on my wall, which, let me tell you, was pretty freaking awesome! Not bad for a Halloween in a land so far from both its pagan and Catholic roots!

The Birth of Home Entertainment

Have I ever told you about my great plan? I don't think I have. When I accepted my mom's generous gift of her "gun" (the laptop she splurged out on when my Dad bought himself a new gun last year), complete with cd/dvd burner, I decided that the days of big clunky televisions were at an end. Also, because RAKESS doesn't provide them for teachers, so I didn't want to spend money on something that I was just going to end up leaving behind. No, I was going to be advanced in one aspect for once and think about getting a projector, about setting up a home theater, and this plan was confirmed when I got to my apartment and saw my beautiful, tall, blank wall. On Saturday, I went to the GITex Expo (chingus: think of Yongsan or Techno Mart, but put it all on one level and clean it up a little. Also, no ahjjusshis) in Dubai with Poonam (whose idea it was - she needed a laptop), Melissa, and Rakesh. I was really going because I wanted to spend time with Poonam, but I figured as long as I was there, I should see what I could do about a projector. And so I went ahead and seized the day, because the projector came with speakers and a 500GB hard drive, a carrying case, and - ooooohh! - a portable screen.

Yeah, seriously, what am I supposed to do with THAT??? But all in all it was a good deal, and let me tell you, watching movies on it ROCKS. My current plan for my next soiree is a bit of a potluck party on Halloween and we'll all watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Classic.

What else did I do this weekend? Stayed up WAY too late on Thursday night (or woke up way too early Friday morn) - but karaoke was on the table, so I went for it, and it was great. Friday morning saw me on my way to church with Tamsin and her son (Rick stayed home to take care of their daughter), and in spite of the fact that my lungs were a little tarry from the previous night's atmosphere and I was very tired, it was probably the most spiritual I've felt in a long time; I was actually happy to be there. Here I am, finally about able to get myself a license and car and the freedom to attend church in Dubai, and I'm thinking that I might just stay in Sharjah. As long as I don't end up with the kind of calling I have to be there for EVERY Friday (which would give me the chance to visit Dubai every once in a while and make contact with the singles there), I think I could live with it. And I'd feel guilty abandoning my friend Kellie there, now that she's been called as the youth Sunday school teacher. So yeah.

On the way home Melissa called in a panic trying to locate her camera. In answering her questions in the car I had to implicate myself a bit more than I would have wanted to in front of Tamsin and John. I told them on the way in that I was really tired from being up too late the night before, but I didn't want to go into the gory details. Mind you, I didn't actually do anything wrong. But there is this thing Mormons talk about every little once in a while called the appearance of evil. Oh, and people have a tendency to justify. See, even though you and I know I didn't do anything wrong, the kid doesn't know that, and I don't want him using my bad behavior to justify his own. Heck, even if he did, he might think, "Well, if Ms. Becky (Sister Becky? I don't know what these guys should call me) can go out with her friends and happily coexist with their choices, then so can I." Except Ms. Becky's had a lot of practice at politely declining and fairly supportive friends who've never pressured her to join in, and I don't know many high schoolers that mature.

When she started to recount her escapades of the night before I hurried her off the phone...not only did I know I was going to be hearing about them the remainder of the night, but there was no way either of them needed to overhear any of that, not to mention I was only five minutes from home. When I got there the two of us decided to call off our outing to Dubai that night (because her crush changed his mind about coming, because I'd only slept two hours the night before, and because we haven't really seen much of Poonam lately, due to the fact that she's a workaholic, and there was just no WAY I was going to be able to go along for GITex if we were out late the night before. I felt really at peace about the decision to call off a night of what passes for debauchery in my world for a friend.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life...

...and I'm feeeeeeling good.


Mostly.


Okay, so acclimating is one thing. Thanks to the slow death of Arabian summer, I've pretty much nailed that one. Acculturation, on the other hand...well, it's another thing entirely. Let's put that in the "Things to work on" category.

How about swearing? Shall I talk about swearing? I never used to swear. Chalk it up to the influence of Satan, because before I went to Korea, I never said so much as hell, and now I freely drop F-bombs. Or I did before I got to RAK. Then I stopped swearing for about a month, and finally picked it up again when I got to Singapore - where I figured there were enough foreigners that they could get over it. I've tried to keep it on the down low since returning, but what can I say? Friday found me on a road trip across and down to Fujairah, in a car with three Brits and an Aussie, and I may have remembered all the different colors that words can come in, and used them out. Swearing just has an expressive quality that you just don't get from regular talking. And it was not a big deal...until we sat down at a little restaurant in Fujairah, and when the server brought me my order - hommos and bread, and a LOT more of it than I was expecting - I said, and I quote, "Holy shit!" Then I realized to whom I was talking and clapped my hands over my mouth. The non-westerner in question did not get pissy with me - my expression of horror may have smoothed over my transgression - but I've had it happen in the past. Oops.


Then last night, as I was walking to the salon to chop my hair off - which I've been thinking about for a long time, I was going to wait until I got to Paris but I got bored and stupid on the same night so I went to the mom&pop - madam&maid??? - salon down the street, but that's a story I will tell in a minute. Anyways, as I was going to St. Ives, I met a bunch of snot-nosed boys playing in the street on their bikes (bikes doesn't quite rhyme with Ives, but it's close enough). I like kids, right? I mean, I'm a teacher, I guess it could go both ways, but I do like children. Well, one of them rode up towards me and blew me a kiss. Yeah, yeah, whatever kid. In 15 years I will be creeped out by the fact that you are STILL doing this, but whatever. I kept walking. Then another boy rode up and made a big SMMMMACK! and said, "I love you." Okay, sure. I walked past the main group of boys, and these first two boys rode up behind me and one said something which included the words, excuse my French, "Fuckyou." And that's when I stopped and gave them the evil eye. I tried to remain calm, because the other route gets you nowhere fast, and said, "Excuse me?" As the first boy began to backpedal, the other one shot off another "fuckyou, " and I told him, "That is very bad manners." Mind you, these guys didn't know much English besides the aforementioned phrase. Boy One said, "No, no, like my mother, like my sister," and I said, "Would you say these words to your sister?" at which point they decided to leave me alone.


Until I left the salon with 14 inches less hair. I was feeling pretty vulnerable anyway, what with having lopped off most of what I consider to be my best physical attribute into what is definitely a skinny girl's haircut (and I am not yet a - sort of - skinny girl again), only to walk past these same boys, still loitering in the street, and to have them - in addition to a new chorus of "fuckyou"s (despite Boy One's protests) - squawk over my haircut and tell me that it's not good.

Acculturation point number two: hair.
Now I've had short hair before and it's even been roughly this short before. But that was in America, where girls are free to get pixie cuts. Here long hair is beautiful, and short hair...well, let's just say that my students were upset with me. Bless their hearts. Some of them were sweet enough to not say anything. Others were honest enough to tell me they didn't like it. Ben, who is Swiss and goes to church with me told me he liked it - but his mother and elder sister both have hair shorter than mine. I guess I don't have any more in depth a commentary than that - I just found the mix of reactions interesting, and telling.

Other interesting things about the weekend - driving down to Fujairah. In a car with four other people. Good times. Here's to the fishbowl.

Home Again (if you wanna call it that)

I am, once again, settled into RAK, and the long month is over. Now we are free during daylight hours to eat, drink, smoke, or...okay, well, I guess we still can't do THAT in public, and it's not like I was, or am, anyways, being a good little Mormon girl and all, but...yeah, we'll leave it at that.

Probably going off on a jaunt five weeks after getting into RAK was not my best decision. If this had been my first time out, I don't know if I would have come back. It was so nice to see the Evil One, and I haven't quite worked out my social equilibrium here. Also, payday is STILL a day away, and the dirhams I had left in my knockoff Coach wallet as I disembarked at Dubai International Airport were rapidly cut in half by the taxi ride to get to the church in Sharjah (okay, to tell the truth, it should have cost 20dhs less, but someone gets his jollies by driving in a slightly different way each week, and although I got to the general vicinity just fine, we proceeded to spend 15 minutes blundering around and having to take long loops to get back to where we started so I could try a second time. Aish). And I had some trepidations about beginning school again, with full days, and a project I hadn't quite worked out how to complete looming over me. Five years ago...I was much weaker than I was now. I actually took sick days back then, would occasionally sneak in the bathroom to cry a little from homesickness, and don't even get me started on the parents (suffice it to say that there were days when I wanted to hide under my desk). I'm not that girl anymore. I took a flying leap back into RAK!
...
...
...

but only after a full day of reading, napping, reading, more napping, swimming at the beach, watching the end of Buffy's second season, and - once more, with FEELING! - pasta for dinner. Friday I was not a very pleasant person to talk to. One well-meaning lady asked me, as I was walking into church, about my vacation, and I told her not to talk to me. I alternated between snappy and soppy and sleepy, and I was NOT impressed by our 1.5 hour long visiting teaching workshop that didn't start til 30 minutes after it should have and the people that kept trying to take pictures with ME in them for the bulletin boards to show what a great workshop it was, because
I'm sorry...
but I have been crammed in a little seat for 8 of the last 24 hours...
and 11 more of those hours I have been stuck in the Mumbai airport, which, my friends I must warn you, does NOT have free wifi, although it does have a sort of uncomfortable "slumber room," and the flight attendants will occasionally come by and wake you up to be sure you're not supposed to be on their flight...
and I just spent 100 dirhams getting here from the airport...
and I have not had a shower since I woke up yesterday...
and I am not dressed well enough, by my standards, for church...
SO DON'T TRY TO INVOLVE ME IN YOUR WORKSHOP. DON'T MAKE ME PLAY PAPARAZZI WITH YOU BY TRYING TO TAKE PICTURES OF ME LOOKING LIKE A SKANK. SINCE I HAVE TO BE HERE AND THERE AREN'T COUCHES IN THE FOYER, LET ME SIT IN THE BACK, LEAVE ME ALONE, AND LET ME NAP IN PEACE!

Also on my mind, strangely enough...whether or not I'm an uber-bitch, but I'll leave the pondering of that for another day.

Unlimited...

together we're unlimited....
It's the last day of my trip to Singapore - in three hours I'll be leaving on a jet plane. It's been a lot of fun. We've walked until my feet were literally ready to crumble into tiny pieces. I've really enjoyed being back in a little corner of Asia, and spending time with the Evil One. Although at times she got a little annoying (as I'm sure I did), what with the, "Oh, the foreign service treats us so well, blah blah blah." There are other ways to see the world, you know, and I am perfectly satisfied with the way I've chosen. As in Wicked (the musical for which this blog is named, in case you missed that), one of the main characters goes to work for the government, the other becomes fairly anti-establishment, but each hopes the other is happy in the end...etc, etc. Anyways, it's been amazing having someone else to wander with, and I can't wait for the next time.

"Together we'll be the greatest team there's ever been..."

The world (at large)

Never let anyone tell you I can't be spontaneous. After hearing the Evil One tell me, "Come to Singapore! Come to Singapore! It's very nice! You can hang out with me AND Kit!" for a week, I got all sorts of spontaneous and bought myself a ticket to leave the next day once I got my passport back. So here I am, in her room at the Regent, lazing (yes, I know I'm in Singapore, I ought to be doing something, but she made me go to church. I went to church two days ago! Also, I didn't sleep much on the flight over, and we were walking just about LITERALLY all day yesterday...all of which you lucky bums get to hear about).

I thought I was pretty clever with the ticket I got. Being a denizen of RAK and not driving a car presents some problems when it comes to getting to the Dubai airport. However, the Sailors were going to be going to church Friday morning, and I figured I could just leave church, find a taxi, and take it from there to Dubai. I did the same thing on the way back, but unfortunately, I kind of screwed myself over in this, because it means I'll be stuck in the Mumbai airport for ten hours. And the most I can say on that account is, at least it's not nineteen stuck in Sheremetyevo. They actually did me one better and drove me to the airport after church (it was the quickest we've gotten out of the church since I started going with them a month ago).

At the airport, I adopted a travel buddy. I'm not sure what it is about me, but apparently I seem like the kind of woman you want to have take you under her wing at an airport, because this is the second time I've had a complete stranger ask me to do so. A Filipina girl, in this case, was standing behind me in line, and it looked like we might possibly be the only two women on the flight (actually, we were two of about six, so sue me for jumping to conclusions), and she asked me if we could request seats together as she didn't want to be alone with all those mustached Indian men (honestly, neither did I - there is something more than a little scary about being the only woman in a crowd, especially when I know that they are all staring at me). She was a very sweet woman, but by the time we finally got to Singapore, I was was happy to be rid of her, because I'm just that kind of prickly person, and it irritates me to have someone act THAT dependent toward me.

I was also in a kind of a crabby mood when I got there because I flew on the red-eye from Chennai, and I couldn't sleep well, and I just don't like airplane travel. Also, I've been fighting a cold this week. Which is why it was good that Evil didn't come to the airport to get me. By the time I'd been in the cab as long as it takes to get to the hotel from the airport, I was okay with the fact that she had coerced me into spending that much time on a cramped plane with a bunch of people who don't understand that deodorant is an essential for a peaceful world, because Singapore is lush and green and beautiful and reminds me a lot of Bundang, with high-rises and hills and did I mention how green it is? RAK is actually pretty well-foliaged for the middle east, but Singapore is absolutely verdant. Also, it's really close to the equator - as close as I've ever been, although I still haven't crossed it - but the weather is quite lovely. We had rain yesterday and although it got pretty humid, for the most part it was totally liveable.

So, what have we been doing? Walking, walking, and eating ice cream. After Evil's physical therapy appointment, we walked up Emerald Hill and had an adventure trying to find a new way back (didn't quite happen, but it was fun exploring). We took the subway to Little India and wandered around - I got to listen to The Evil One's Tour-of-Hyderabad-via-Singapore, and I bought sari fabric that I'm going to use to make a tablecloth for my otherwise fairly barren apartment. Jane basically used me as her packhorse/slave under the excuse of her gimpy arm, which is an impressive array of colors. We came back to the Regent just in time to get ahold of Kit, who came over and we went walking (again...my poor feet! If I walked more in RAK in the last month than I did the whole time I was back in Iowa, then I think I will walk more this week in Singapore than I have in RAK AND Iowa), ending up in Chinatown, where they had a celebration for the beginning of Autumn, with lights and performances and fireworks (which we watched as we were eating ice cream at Swensen's....mmmmm....)

It was loads of fun, and promises to be more, but it's a chill Sunday, which is nice because my body is NOT happy with me for abusing it after long months of inactivity.

Decisions, decisions

It's twenty til three and I'm hungry. This doesn't really shock me. Since coming to RAK I've experienced this sensation...heretofore largely unknown this year...basically daily. I'm not bitching or anything, because I know that it means that I'm not overeating (for the most part - there's a very good chance I may have eaten a large pack of caramel waffles one day this last week). Instead, I've actually eaten brekke - I'm on granola bars and lite hot choco right now, although I was eating a fried egg and slice of toast as long as the dozen eggs the school originally supplied me with held out. I've fixed myself a PB&J daily since school started, and paired it with a small pack of chips or an apple. And for dinner - pasta, coke, and a snickers (don't even talk to me about the healthfulness of that...remember, this is me talking, and coke and snickers are the foundation of a successful diet in my world). I wish I could say that I took my move to the UAE and made it a springboard for lots of positive changes in my life...but, well, it's kind of been a necessity, because my financial choices in the last year have left me without a whole lot in the way of savings, and I'm trying not to add to my debts. Which means I don't get to eat out, and since RAK doesn't have a Taco Bell, I'm mostly okay with this. However, I might just kill if a Barnes and Noble sugar cookie were at stake. Seriously.

I made the decision, on the other hand, to go ahead, bite the bullet, and get a cash advance from the school for my membership at the Hilton Beach Resort. What it basically comes down to is this - that nice long week off we have next week for Eid, when Jane was supposed to come to visit? Well, thanks to her broken arm, she's not coming, and I've got all of two books at home I haven't read yet, so desperate times call for desperate measures. It also promotes me being sociable, since most of the new teachers are going to be hanging out there during the vacation.

Hmm. Well, goody for me. Because, actually, I attempted to be sociable this weekend, with mixed results. Thursday night was the new staff welcome dinner, and one of the teachers I like but keep crossing wires with, asked if I was coming to it, and honestly, social events are really not as painful as I make them out to be. Plus it was free dinner (ie: more meat in one sitting than I have eaten since I came to RAK...I seem to somehow have become more-or-less a vegetarian this month). Before the dinner I got to talk a few minutes to the new year 6 teacher, a tall, blonde Irishman. Mmm. We'll see if there's anything left of him after the harpies have descended (if any of my fellow teachers happen to be reading this, please know that I don't really mean you're a harpy. Probably). We went to the sailing club, and it was well enough, although I did a pretty good impression of a wall flower most of the night.

I managed to get up in plenty of time for church, and due to the baptism ended up spending a total of SIX HOURS there (no, I'm not counting the hour's ride there, or back) - and was rewarded by eating cheese cake...not cheesecake, mind you, but cake that had been frosted then sprinkled with fancy shredded parmesan cheese. SICK. AND. WRONG. Suffice it to say that the family who made the cake was NOT American, because WE damn well know how to make sweets, and that ain't it. Got home and had no intention of going anywhere but the internet cafe for the rest of the night. Then one of my colleagues came by to tell me how late she'd stayed at the sailing club after I left, and to coerce me into going again that night, and convinced me with the fact that they have free wifi.

On the other hand, it cost 20 dirhams for admission. I can do the math. Still, I thought, whatever, I'm attempting to be social. One of our Saffer colleagues showed up with her nice-looking, 20-something son, which seemed like a bonus at the time, but the colleague that coerced me into coming started putting the moves on him, and by the end of the night I was glad she did. She wanted the party to keep going, and convinced me and another teacher into playing wing girls for a while - I was firm about the fact that I had an early roll-out for my Skype date with Tori, and only planned to stay about ten minutes. Yes. Some wing girl I am. At least in this situation. Well, we got home and she proceeded to get violently ill from too much drinky-poo, and so for the next hour I babysat the douchebag while wing girl #2 tended to her. And I actually realized during this time that he was, in fact, a douchebag. He told a racist joke about Indians (dots not feathers), and after I told him that one of our friends is Indian, he proceeded to tell us ANOTHER, and summarized his feelings by saying, "I hate them." There were other topics we passed over that reaffirmed his status to me, but I actually got pissed when he started hassling me for leaving an hour after I intended to. I'm sorry, you git, but I have a life, and you have no right to call me lame for getting up early to stay close to the people I love.

Saturday I retaliated by staying in all day after my morning Skype session, finishing off season 2 of X-Files, drinking coke, and walking on the beach at sunset. I reveled in my anti-sociality. Go me.

Last note: the sheikh started a scholarship program last year for teachers in RAK to get their masters or PhD or whatever. I'm seriously considering going after it...it would mean an extra two years (at least) in the Emirates, but to get my masters AND have it paid for??? Seriously. My two main considerations are a.) if I like it here well enough (so far, so good), and b.) if I can find a good online program for a masters in international education. There's another possibility - he'll also pay for a summer educational program, and if I can't commit because of a.) or b.) to the masters, well, Semester at Sea runs a special summer program, Teachers at Sea, and I'd almost rather do that...it's been in the back of my mind for a while now. Stay tuned!