Animals. In Saudi Arabia. Enough said.

I am an animal lover.  The fact that, from the time I was able to think about what I wanted to do when I "grew up," I wanted to become a veterinarian is an indication of this (only to change my mind when, during undergrad, I lived with a girl who was in vet school and realized I would rather simply love animals than deal with all the things veterinarians deal with).  For me, though, my affinity for animals and the sense of peace and clarity that I receive when I'm with them is a greater indication of my love for them.  As a result, I've had an animal in my life ever since I can remember.

My family owned a big beautiful St. Bernard, Prince, when I was growing up.  But I was three years old when he came along, so I really didn't play a role in caring for him until it was about time for him to head off into doggie-heaven.  My first true animal-based responsibility was my horse, Gavalanche.  Then I moved away for university, Gav in tow, and got myself a cat, Smith.  Eventually I moved across the country (Gav having passed away by this time.  She was a sweet old girl who's time had come.), Smith in tow.  Through an act of kindness, I fostered a litter of kittens for the SPCA out of which another addition to my fur-family, Jared, came along.  Let's not forget that I bought myself a new horse, Diamond at this time as well.  Smith, soon after, sadly passed away from congestive heart failure.  And then a sweet orphaned kitten, Chai, came along.  I also received my dog, the lovely Angel, around that time.  Unfortunately, she was a scaredy-dog.  When frightened one day while staying at a friend's house, she ran away and I never saw her again.  This created space in my life for Matzu, the sweetest old pooch you could ever meet and who desperately needed a home.  Diamond soon became more suited to ranching life than the competitive world of horses that I wanted in on, so he moved to a friend's ranch.  Soon after, the loveliest of lovely horses, Sky, came to my home.  So, let's recap:  Prince (dog), Gavalanche (horse), Smith (cat), Jared (cat), Diamond (horse), Chai (cat), Angel (dog), Matzu (dog), Sky (horse).

I detail my fur-family history because it is pertinent to the present topic.  Essentially, animals are a part of my heart, soul, and as the previous paragraph has outlined, my outer existence in this world.  So, when I decided to move to Saudi Arabia and had to ask my kind friends to host my sweet furry loves while I'm away, I figured I would be taking a break from the animal world for a while.  I was okay with this.  I never had human children, but I certainly am not lacking in the experience of having huge responsibilities concerning the lives of other beings.  I was thinking it would be nice to have a break and experience actual complete and abundant freedom for a while.  Turns out, the Universe has other plans for me.

As was mentioned in one of my first blogs after arriving here in the Kingdom, I was greeted by a furry little purr-monster.  She happily slept over in my little compound-based apartment, but she only stuck around for that night.  Turns out she's one of many cats that live at my compound.  I've seen her

My welcoming party to the KSA

lounging about near my apartment building and at the compound pool a number of times, always happy to have a quick scratch behind the ears.  I figured that encountering random compound cats would be the extent of my animal adventures here.  Not so, especially when your apartment is a basement suite with a nice sized ledge in front of the window.  I had (and still have) ample visits from numerous cats sitting at my window, meowing away, while sitting at my table eating breakfast (or lunch, or dinner, or reading, or researching.... you get the idea).  I was determined to not let any of them in.  And in no way was I to be convinced to feed them.  My responsibility to animals was on a hiatus, and I was determined to have things remain that way.  Ah, but I underestimated one particular furry friend.  She knew exactly what she was doing, peeking through my window with the most gorgeous yellow eyes and soft white fur.  Patiently sitting there, not expecting much.  Happy to accept a quick neck rub through a slightly opened window screen when I simply could resist no longer.  Everyday she arrived, and everyday she managed to move a little closer into my apartment. 

Keeks

Eventually, I gave in, and so arrived the unnamed cat into my life.  I didn't, however, feed her.  She is a seasoned compound cat, and she knows very well how to fend for herself (by seducing other compound-animal-lover residents I have no doubt).  For many moons she remained unnamed all the while sleeping at my feet and snuggling with me while I read and worked at home.  That is until my friend, Caroline stopped by and noticed the unnamed one lounging at the foot of my bed.  "Keeks!" She exclaimed.  Apparently the unnamed one was named after all.  Keeks had weasled her way into Caroline's heart when she first arrived at the compound as well, turning that non-cat-fanatic friend of mine into a cat lover.  Caroline even ended up adopting two compound kittens as a result of Keeks' interference in her "no cats for me" life plan.  Oh Keeks, you are a sly one.

While Keeks has been a definite animal presence in the five months that I've lived in Riyadh, she certainly hasn't been the only one.  Let me tell you a story about the day I arrived home from work to find my window left open.  I was sure I had closed it.  Oh, but maybe I only closed the screen and mistakenly left the pane open.  "Silly Keeks," I thought to myself.  "She must've pulled the screen open with her claws.  Such a smart girl." It wasn't long after, while sitting on my bed playing on my
computer,  I noticed an odd chirping sound.  Thinking it was a new bird that had arrived for the spring season I didn't pay much attention.  But then I started realizing that I had heard this sound before.  This was no bird chirping, this was kitten mewing.  "Aaaahhh, " I thought.  "A litter of kittens must be outside my window."  I got up to go look out the window, only to see from the corner

The kittens

Their temporary abode

of my eye, a fully adult cat hiding between my pile of empty luggage and my sofa.  Not a big deal, really, only for the fact that this cat was royally pissed and obviously a mama cat protecting her brood.  I managed to back away and then make loud noises to scare her out through my already opened window.  Keeks hadn't been the one to open the screen after all.  I locked the mama out and went on a little search to quickly find five tiny kittens huddled amongst my empty luggage.  Crap.  They were definitely only two weeks old at the most.  This was a responsibility I definitely did not want.  Quickly, I put the kittens in a little box lined with my gym towel and carefully placed them on the ground outside my window.  Hopefully, mama cat would come and get them or even use the box as her nesting site.  I was only partially lucky in this circumstance.  Mama cat did come along and get her kittens, but she left one behind.  I waited, and waited, and waited.  Even left my
apartment for a few hours to avoid the possibility that I was frightening mama with my presence.  I came home to find that the lone black kitten was still alone, in the box, outside my window.  Crap.  And so the avoidance of animal responsibilities was not going to continue.  With some quick internet research and a shout out to my other animal-loving friends at the compound I managed to get a recipe for a make-shift nutritional kitten supplement, a medicine dropper, and a fellow surrogate kitten

Polo (right) with his new buddy, Gamar

mother to feed the adorable little fur-ball while I was staying late at work.  Between Louise and I we managed to keep this little guy alive.  And thanks to my other animal-loving friend, Elise, Polo (as I like to call him) or Napolean (as everyone else calls him) got a new home with a new best kitten friend, Gamar.  Phew!  Polo turned out to be just a minor glitch in the no-animal-responsibilities-for-Bonnie project.


Yes, it became a project.  This avoidance of animals was obviously not going to be easy.  And it continued to be difficult.  Only a few weeks after finding a home for Polo, I had an interesting animal encounter at work.  Let me preface this story with some background information.  The family I work for is wonderful and absolutely loving.  They don't, however, have a penchant for understanding animals.  Much to the chagrin of the little sweetheart of a boy that I work with.  He is an animal lover through and through.  His family has a keen knowledge of this.  So, when his aunt arrived with two of

The ducklings' first night at my place

the cutest and fluffiest ducklings in her hands to give to my little student, I was anything but surprised.  And when I was informed that she hadn't thought to buy food or planned for an enclosure for them, I wasn't surprised either.  And so, with a deep breath and my eyes to the sky, I took the ducklings in my arms and began the arrangements to find food and a temporary "box" for these sweet yellow fluffballs.  It's a good thing they were adorable.  So, for seven days I was a surrogate duck mother.  I carried them from work to home, home to work, everyday with their swimming tub and their food in tow.  I have to admit, it was fun having them around.  There aren't many things cuter than two ducklings taking a bath in a wash basin.  But it was getting a little out of hand.  They would be growing out of everything I had for them soon, and they got smelly quickly if I was late

Most adorable bath takers, ever!

cleaning their enclosure.  So, the family made arrangements for the ducklings to head to a family member's garden where there was a pond and other ducks.  Phew!

You'd think that was enough animal exposure for the five months that I've been here.  But it wasn't.  These other animals in my life have been much more temporary, however.  They are also a definite no-no when it comes to having them on the compound.  Camels.  Oh, how I love camels.  Probably because they're so similar to horses.  And possibly because whenever I'm around them I'm out in the desert's version of the country, a.k.a. away from the city.  It doesn't matter what element of the experience causes this to happen, but what I know for sure is when I'm with a camel I feel at home again.  My first encounter with a camel was when Louise took me to her friend, Abdullah's uncle's camel farm.  He has camels that he milks.  Yes, people drink camel milk.  No, I haven't tried it. 

Faux-milking a camel

Could she be any cooler?

Unfortunately, the camels had already been milked that day.  Of course that doesn't mean that I had any qualms about asking for a demonstration on how they're milked anyway.  Abdullah's uncle did better than that.  He had me do a faux-milking of one of his camel cows.  It was one of the coolest things ever.  Not only did I get to meet a camel, but I also got to faux-milk her, which essentially just meant that I tugged on her utters/teats a few times.  Talk about getting intimate with an animal.  I could barely contain my excitement.  Camels really are the coolest.  They're the epitome of calm.  Even when they're not calm they still give off the sense that they're calm.  Maybe it's their hooded eyes, or their relaxed lips.  Maybe it's their lumbering and slow walk or their chin-up, holier-than-thou head posture.  Whatever it is, I can't help but think they've got life all figured out and they are living the ultimate zen.  That's probably why, whenever I'm around camels, while my friends are shouting at me saying, "Bonnie don't get so close." Or, "Bonnie, watch your hands, he's going to bite

Kissing "Bonnie the Camel"

you." Or, "Oh my Gawd, she's actually kissing it!" I don't pay attention, because I can sense when the camels are chill with me being around (and when they're not...I don't push my limits).  Maybe my comfort with them was a reason for Abdullah's uncle offering to name one of his baby camels after
me.  It could also have been my extreme excitement for being able to hug a camel.  Either way, I now have a camel in Saudi Arabia as a namesake.  Bonnie the Camel has one hump!

Can you say "love?"

 In Joy,

Bonnie

Having a chat with the papa camel.

Happiness is not the word to describe this moment....but it comes close

Out of the Sandbox

I began my journal entry last week with, "April 21/13 Sunday, 9:30am, Beirut, Lebanon."  NICE!!  For this girl, who's always dreamed of traveling but always stayed home to hang out with her horse, this was pretty surreal.  But, in other ways it wasn't.  Maybe you could say I'm getting jaded now that I'm an expatriate and all, but being in Beirut just felt pretty regular.  While at the same time it felt SO FREAKING AWESOME because I was out of the sandbox!!!

A big part of the ease I felt there was partly due to the green and the hills that surrounded me.  Now THAT felt more like it.  Home seemed like it was just a quick look out the car window rather than a 19 hour flight away.  But probably the biggest reason why Lebanon seemed so easy to be in was because, through a random connection with a friend at my compound, I met a cool guy who decided to be exceptionally welcoming to me.  Ziad, over the course of my weekend became a great friend and, as you'll come to find out, an actual saviour.  I'll get into that later.  For now, let's concentrate on all the awesome things about Lebanon that Ziad introduced me to.

I knew I had needed this vacation and I got exactly what I needed and then some.  Riyadh can be a cool place in many ways, but it's a brand new city.  Everything is shiny and fresh, which is good.  For me, though, it's given me a new appreciation for places with history and places that have had time to develop character.  Beirut has TONS of that. Let's put it into perspective, the Romans lived there!  It's been a key port of trade since the Ottoman Empire in the 14th century (and probably earlier...keep in mind I'm just doing quick Google searches here).  Some crazy history resides in the streets of Beirut.  Even recent history that shapes not only the streets, but also the minds of Beirut's citizens.  This is a result of the civil war that lasted for 15 years and only ended around 1990, and with remnants of unrest still effecting the city and country as recently as 2005.  Character is something Beirut has in spades.  Oh, and the people.  They smile!  In Riyadh, there is a general sense of negativity among the people there.  I still haven't quite put my finger on it, but it seems that everyone is always simply waiting to either be dealt with negatively or is ready to deal with someone else negatively.  It's really not my scene at all.  Often I find people look at me suspiciously when I'm my usual smiley self.  Ah, but in Beirut people have smiles on their faces for no other reason beyond their own inner happiness.  They don't take themselves too seriously.  It's something I had taken for granted back home.  I appreciate positive people so much more now.  And the green space.  Oh the green space, how I've missed it.  If there is anything I will never ever take for granted again it is green space.  I appreciate every single blade of grass, every quivering petal, every fluffy bush, every towering tree so much more after having spent three months among the beige sand.

Having fun with Ziad at Bike Generation

I appreciated Beirut and Lebanon in general to the extreme.  And I also appreciated Ziad for introducing it to me.  It's like the Universe looked down upon me and said, "Bonnie needs a stress-free vacation." And so it introduced me to Ziad.  First priority for me during my stay in Lebanon was to go biking and Ziad made sure it happened.  Easily enough, considering he knew basically every bike shop owner and outdoor gear store manager in the country.  My first day was spent traipsing all over Beirut and surrounding metropolises (grammar tangent: I SO wanted the plural of metropolis to be metropoli...alas, it was not to be) to find all the proper attire for biking as well as, of course, a new bike for Bonnie!  The excitement of this still lingers.  Not only did Ziad make sure I found everything on my list, he also gave me the opportunity to interact with the people of, not one, but three different bike shops.  For those of you not familiar with biking communities, the bike shops are the hubs of the biking world.

Bike shop boys working on the bikes.

The people who work there are the Googles of any search for biking worthy spots and activities happening in an area.  And, they're just plain awesome people.  If you want to meet friends in the biking world, a bike shop is the place to go.  It felt so good to be amongst like-minded people.  It was awesome to see guys fixing spokes, adjusting levers, cleaning cogs, and all the other random bike repairs and maintenance activities.  It brought me back to when I used to sit around, beer in hand, watching the guys at Red Shred's doing the very same stuff back home in Williams Lake.  The guys at the Lebanese bike shops did not disappoint.  They were uber welcoming.  One of guys at Bike Generation, Saeed, who I  had been in touch with via e-mail before I visited, had even put my arrival in his calendar!

Saeed's calendar entry reminder of my arrival.

The scene at Torino Express

To celebrate a successful day of bike shopping, Ziad took me to his favourite pub, Torino Express.  Oh my gawd, I love this pub!  There are not enough exclamation points to express how much I love this pub.  It is basically a closet in size, and it is OLD.  There is character built upon character built upon character here.  And you know what that attracts?  People with character.  Pretentious businessmen and high-heeled, face-painted club-hoppers walk on by, this place is not for you.  This is the watering hole of authentic hipsters and beatniks and just plain "real" people.  One of the bartenders looked like he just rolled out of bed, put on his hunter camouflage ball cap and green fisherman's rubber boots, and came to work.  His comment to a girl of,"Don't ask me what you should drink...if you don't know what you want how the f*&% am I supposed to know?" simply made my day!  Especially considering he gave me his very matter-of-fact opinion of bike riding in the city directly following that (of which he is very well versed, rubber boots notwithstanding).  With the excitement of my day, plus the fact that I was in pub heaven, add to that the bartenders were friends of Ziad's, you can rest assured I was quickly put on the road to a very drunk night indeed.  Thankfully I had Ziad, and my friend from Riyadh, Alexis who had joined us for the night, to assist me in my drunken endeavor and to ensure I made it safely home to my excellent hostel.

Shouf Biosphere Reserve

Next day was for riding and it was going to be a day of riding to get over my hangover.  Luckily I had experience in this and knew I would be perfectly fine.  First thing was first, though, I needed sustenance and leftover pizza was on the menu.  I mention this because it will be a poignant point in an upcoming paragraph, so keep it in mind.  Somehow in my stupor I managed to get all my new gear together and, with Ziad's help, loaded everything into his truck and off to the Biosphere Reserve in an area called Shouf we went.  It was not going to be a fairweather day.  Luckily, I do not melt when it rains (I'm not that sweet) and so I remained game for a day of wet pedaling in the mountains.  Wet and cold pedaling I should add, as it did snow as well.  We got to the Reserve and I was in heaven!  Oh green wide open spaces, how I had missed you!!!  I may have been so excited that I left our helmets behind at the Reserve Ranger's hut before we drove a little further into the Reserve.  Crap.  No matter.  The ride involved tame terrain and I was going to be taking it easy due to my self-induced headache anyway.  Nothing was going to lessen my happiness at this point in my Lebanese adventure.  I was in the middle of nature, the elements beating down on me, with my ass on a bike.  Life was awesome!!  And it remained awesome, all through my rain and mud soaked socks and shorts and my shivering body while I pedaled up and down the rocky hillside.

Countryside near Shouf

At the end of our ride, the Reserve Ranger (and yet another of Ziad's friends... I swear, Ziad is the Mayor of Lebanon), Houssam, picked us up and took us to his hut to warm up by the wood stove and drink tea he had made for us.  Soon after we found ourselves dry and hanging out at Houssam's nearby beautiful guest house eating peach preserves and dates and drinking Turkish coffee.  Remember how I said being in Lebanon felt pretty regular?  This is what I meant.  It was like I was simply home, hanging out with the people I had known for a lifetime doing regular everyday things.  And yet, I was half a world away from home.  Gratitude isn't even the word for how I felt about life at this point.  And it didn't end there.  On the way home we stopped at this random, would never have seen it, tiny indecipherable side-of-the-road eatery that made flat bread on a huge convex shaped pan-like contraption.  They spread an orange mixture called mankoushi kishk onto it and it was delicious.  But the best part was that the mother, father, and son all were there talking with us and making food for themselves to eat as well as me and Ziad.  And, of course, Ziad soon discovered that the father had actually worked with his father.  I'm sure the father asked Ziad in Arabic, "who's your father?" in typical Cape Breton Islander form in order for this information to be discovered (for those of you reading this that are not from Cape Breton Island, don't be concerned if the humour of the last sentence is lost on you).  The feeling of being "down home" was never ending.  It continued right on to visiting Ziad's parents and having his father hook me up with a sweet deal for getting my bike onto the plane with no extra luggage fees.  It pays to have connections with airlines.

"Private" property

With my biking needs settled, my belly full, and my heart glowing from all the Lebanese love I was surrounded with during my day I called it a night and slept soundly to be ready for a day of touring the streets of Beirut.  Ziad, yet again, led the way and not only showed me Beirut by foot but also gave me a lesson in its recent history and current events.  A post-war city is an extremely interesting experience, especially the aspects of learning how it is being rebuilt.  It's especially intriguing to learn about the ways in which government can be corrupt all the while their constituents are simply relieved that there is peace.  Frustrating and understandable all in one breath.  During my lessons we walked along streets filled with new, privately owned, buildings housing nothing because rent was too high, we passed walkways and waterfront gardens harbouring signs that said "Private Property" although it was designed to look anything but private.

Protesting against private companies taking over public space.

Beautiful new, yet empty, buildings

Hanging out at the waterfront

We soon came along to the publicly owned areas again where I experienced men fishing off of bridges and others diving for their catch of the day.  Ziad took me through the American University of Beirut campus where he had gone to school.  Yet again, everywhere we went Ziad was greeted with people who knew him.  I swear, if he doesn't run for a seat in government in the next 10 years I may disown him as a friend.  The campus is gorgeous and oh so green!  I was reminded of the University of Vancouver campus and was instantly greeted with that ever familiar feeling of academia and expanding minds.  It made me reminisce of school and reminded me of how much I loved it.

 Off of campus we went

Chatting with the divers.

and back into the city filled with tiny streets, never ending masses of cars, old buildings, and randomly placed shops.  We ate delicious Lebanese food, shopped for souvenirs, checked out the Roman ruins, until we found ourselves back at my hostel to call it a day.  I still had one more day in Lebanon before I went back to Riyadh and, for some strange reason my belly was bothering me.  So, off to bed I went to nurse my crampy tummy and get ready for my last day in Lebanon, which I had hoped would be a day of biking.

American University of Beirut

Cool apartment building

At the souvenir shop, checking out some vintage t-shirts made during the civil war.

Alas, biking was not to be on the menu for the next day.  In fact, nothing was on the menu for the next day as, if you'll recall that leftover pizza from two days prior, I had contracted food poisoning.  I have never been in so much pain as my stomach protested the unwelcomed bacteria that was running rampant inside of it.  I couldn't move and the only person I could think of that would be able to help was, of course, Ziad.  My knight in shining North Face arrived and, God love him, he packed up my suitcases without complaint and carried them to his truck while I somehow managed, in cramped and  bended state to get in and be driven to his place where I eased into bed and tried, unsuccessfully, to be a gracious guest.  I didn't make my flight, even though Ziad had worked so zealously to get my bike packed up in a box and ready to go on time.  I was so embarrassed.  Ziad's mother and father even stopped in to help.  I did my best to drink the tea and eat the plain rice that they offered.  The only thing that seemed to work was ginger tea and the miracle pills that Ziad's father had given me.  I was miserable and had no idea how I was going to manage to get home in the state that I was in.  I tried so hard to think of all the positive things that were

Roman ruins

A church and a mosque as neighbours.

happening, such as how an amazing family came together to do whatever they could to help me feel better.  It didn't work very well.  I, essentially, just wanted to die.  I was a sad state to say the least.  Somehow, the next day I started to feel well enough to get up and to the airport.  Unfortunately, Ziad had gotten an emergency call regarding a juvenile sea lion that had been separated from it's pod and he was away for the day.  Oh, right, I hadn't mentioned that Ziad is an ocean conservationist who runs a non-profit organization called Purple Reef and is also a diving instructor when he's not being an amazing tour guide and newly appointed nurse.  So, while Ziad was off saving a sea lion, I was shuffling my way through the Beirut airport, bike in tow, trying to get to Riyadh without having my stomach explode in front of the traveling masses.  I managed and got back to my apartment with my dearest new pedal-worthy traveling companion.

It took six days for me to get back to work after the food poisoning hit.  Talk about an extended vacation.  While resting in bed, suffering through stomach cramps and watching episodes of The Tudors and viewing biking videos on PinkBike, I was able to think of how wonderful my trip to Lebanon was.  It's not often that you get to travel to a place and experience the "real" people that make it what it is.  This is the way travel should be and the Universe gave me a wonderful gift to have been able to see Lebanon like this.  As usual, I am oh so grateful for my life.  This particular portion of my life happens to be no exception.

In Joy,
Bonnie

The Lessons We Learn Through Friendship and Change

Transitions, no matter how big or small, are always difficult in some way shape or form.  Sometimes it’s just an icky feeling of being out of your comfort zone.  Other times it’s extreme discomfort and mental anguish.  Either way, change is the only constant in life and it’s simply something that we must learn to deal with if we are to exist happily during the time we’re on this earth.

I always knew the changes that would occur for me during my move and adjustment to Saudi Arabia would be hard to some extent or another.  To be honest, it has been pretty smooth sailing in a lot of ways for the 2 and ½ months since I moved here.  So, of course I was bound to experience a bit of transition agony and homesickness at some point or another.  It’s interesting, however, how the homesick feelings were triggered.

When I say it’s been smooth sailing living here in Saudi, it’s not exactly true.  There have been bumps and blips and obstacles, but they’ve happened one at a time and I’ve had people here that supported me through them.  The last few weeks, however, I’ve felt hit by a few difficulties that seemed to pile on top of each other.  The first being that I’m recognizing how different the attitudes of Saudi people are.  I won’t go into detail here, but their work ethics and reliability tend to be different and it can be hard to adjust at times.  It’s the Saudi way and they seem to be fine with the way things are, but I still have a tendency to be surprised when things don’t happen as quickly or are not done with as much care and quality as I am used to in Canada.  I keep having to remind myself that things needing to be done won’t occur with as much reliability as they would have at home.  I really miss Canada at these times.   It’s a mindset adjustment that is doable, but the transition can wear on a person and it’s wearing on me at this point in time. 

Another and, really, a very important thing that has happened (and that I can’t go into detail with) is I’ve experienced stress in the area of the health of the sweet and darling child that I work with.  It’s hard enough seeing a child that is sick when you don’t know them well.  It’s excruciating to watch my sweet little patient whom I adore regress due to health issues.  Thankfully, he’s on the mend now and doing oh so well.  Big thank you going out to the powers that be.  It was a very stressful three weeks prior to this.

Those stressors have been making a mark on my experience here in Saudi Arabia and have been making me miss home a lot, but they are and were both bearable.  That is until I began to feel my connections to some people who were so kind to me when I first arrived begin to fade.  I would love to say that this is a result of natural shifts in interests and schedules, but unfortunately that’s not the case.  At least that’s my interpretation of it.  Let me explain.

I live a life of trust and I live according to the belief that everyone has goodness in their hearts.  One of the wonderful people I’ve met here in Saudi Arabia said I have an “alb abyad” (white heart) which, I was told, means that I have a pure heart that looks for the good in others.  This compliment was not only amazingly flattering, but I also feel that it’s very true; I really believe that if you give someone a chance to show goodness, they will come through.  It’s like what Paul Rudd’s character, Ned, in “Our Idiot Brother” says, “I like to think that if you put your trust out there, I mean if you really give people the benefit of the doubt and see their best intentions, people will rise to the occasion.”

I still believe this concept to be true, but recently my beliefs were tested.  There were people that I met upon coming to Saudi Arabia that I felt treated me with genuine kindness and gave their support to me willingly and without conditions.  Some of these people were sincere and good.  Others were not so honest.  I say this because it recently came to my attention that a few of the people I felt were friends were saying things about me amongst themselves and to others that did not reflect a sense of friendship by any means.  The general sense that I got from the things I’ve been told were said seem to stem from a misunderstanding as to the type of person that I am and the life that I lead.  It is quite apparent that, while at home in British Columbia, Canada I am an average girl.  In Saudi Arabia, however, I am different from many of the women that live in this country.  Women aren’t typically interested in sports here.  They certainly aren’t interested in what some Arab people consider “extreme” sports like mountain biking, snowboarding, rock climbing, and jumping horses over big fences.  The women, instead, tend to have interests and priorities geared towards making themselves look beautiful and being good mothers (which they are on both accounts to every extent and them some).  Along with this, I’m also different because I’m not interested in having a family.  My priorities are odd to many of the people that live here.  As a result, it seems, I am hard to “figure out.”  So in trying to figure me out some of the people who I initially felt were my friends decided to make fun of my passion for the sports that I love and also to make assumptions about me.  The assumptions were inaccurate.  They didn’t talk to me about where my interests and priorities stem from.  They weren’t open-minded about how the interests of a woman from a different culture could be a result of simple love for the activities combined with living in a place where those interests can be nurtured.  Instead, these people decided to disrespect my love of sports, describing them as trivial and silly activities to be made fun of, and they also spread their assumptions of the way I lead my life to people around the compound in which I live.  This caused even more people to have an inaccurate view of the person that I am and to pass judgment on me before getting to know me.

I am a strong and independent person who has a solid sense of who I am and where I stand in life.  It is difficult to shake the psychological foundation that I have developed for myself.  This circumstance shook me to the core.  I am not the type of person who is concerned about others’ opinions of who I am nor what they think of the things that I love to do.  I am, however, someone who has strong feelings towards the people I care about.  I cared about these people and held them in high regard.  In return, they did something that was disrespectful and showed me that I was wrong to trust them to the degree I would hold for a close friend.  It devastated me.  To the point where it took a lot of time for me to gain clarity of the situation, step away from the sense of betrayal that I was feeling, and step towards recognition of the lessons that I was learning from it.  The interesting thing about this was, I learned that I’m not so independent after all.  I gained awareness that sometimes I just need to allow the good people around me to help when helping myself isn’t an option yet.

For a long while I have worked hard at growing and learning through my life experiences.  During this time I did this on my own.  It was a personal journey and I loved every minute of it.  I had the loveliest friends and family around me who were always there for me to vent to or to sort out my thoughts with.  But, when it all came down to it, I figured the tough stuff out on my own.  The difference between then and now is I was able to keep a sense of my “zen” during those past rough patches.  I could always feel the light shining out from the darkness I may have been feeling.  This time was different.  My mind was clouded and I forgot what it was like to have clarity.  I couldn’t step back and look at the situation with an objective perspective.  This is likely because of the buildup of multiple stressors that wore me down and also because being hurt by friends is a new experience for me.  Regardless of why it happened, I was lost and I could feel my energy lowering to a frequency that I hadn’t felt in a long time.  I was becoming negative.  Thankfully whatever powers that be didn’t leave me hanging.  There was a lesson for me to learn here and it was that it’s time for me to recognize that I can use my connections to others to help me out of a funk.  When my energy is too drained to be able to do it on my own, it’s okay to grab on to someone and ask to be pulled out of the hole I am falling into.  While I always knew about this concept, I needed to learn how to actually go ahead and do it.  Thankfully, I had someone around who knew how to listen and also what to say to help me gain my positive perspective again.  And, most importantly, this person knew how to bring a posse of goodness around me in the form of genuine people whose priorities have always been to be caring and understanding friends of mine as well as others.  It wasn’t long after I confided in one person that a team of love surrounded me and showed me that I am cared for and supported after all.

Having the love of others around me is important.  I’ve always known this, but I never really ever utilized it.  The transitions and change that are occurring in my life as a result of moving to Saudi Arabia are showing me that, while I appreciated the support of my friends and family back home, I may have taken it for granted in a lot of ways.  I think this is part of why I have been so homesick and feeling a lot of pain from what happened.  Sometimes you need darkness in your life to recognize the light that existed in what you had.  I had an amazing thing going for me back home with my fantastic friends and fun things to do that I’m passionate about.  I’ve been missing my friends and the activities we did together with every ounce of my existence.  I’ve also been feeling desperate to get back to that life again because what has been happening here has been miserable.  Things are getting better now, however, and I do feel in my heart that Saudi Arabia is where I’m meant to be at this time.  While I have been feeling exceptionally low lately, I can sense my energy getting higher again and I know that all is well and all will be wonderful again.  It’s all about flowing with life and I had a downward swing for a little while.  The upswing is kicking into gear now.

As for the folks that played a part in the downward swing that I experienced as of late, I am still feeling the sting of what occurred as a result of their behavior.  I do, however, recognize that their intentions were very likely not vindictive.  They were just inconsiderate and acted that way without any forethought, and that’s okay.  I do believe that they have goodness in their hearts.  For some reason, they decided to behave in a way that did not represent their underlying goodness.  Again, that’s okay.  I forgive them for doing the things they did.  I also appreciate the lessons that the situation they created gave me and also for showing me who those people are that really are my sincere and true friends here in Saudi Arabia and that homesickness is something that can be overcome with time and support.

In Joy,

Bonnie

Abaya: Friend or Foe

I’ve been living in Saudi Arabia for two months now and still cannot decide how I feel about the requirement by law to wear an Abaya, the black cloak that conceals my body, except my head, hands, and feet, from male onlookers.  And it’s not the rules, per say, that are an issue.  I have no problem respecting the laws, religion, and culture of the country that I am a guest in.  It’s the various factors that make wearing an abaya a big fat pain in the rear “awrah” (translation: intimate parts).  That being said, there are also some definite up-sides to having just one thing to wear when going out in public.

http://thestygianport.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-dinner-with-celtic-rebel-part-3.html

So, what is this abaya I speak of?  Basically, it’s a big black cloak with arms that is so anti-revealing that I’m sure every teenage daughter’s father wishes it was a requirement in their country.  Believe me, there is absolutely nothing flattering about an abaya.  Especially when you have a small head and a long neck like me.  I look like “Harry the Hunter,” the tiny-headed character on Beetlejuice, when I wear mine.  

According to Wikipedia,  the  rationale of all this covering up comes from the Qur'an and Hadith.  It was known that the wives of the Prophet Muhammad covered themselves around men they did not know.  Often the Quranic quote, "O Prophet, tell your wives and daughters, and the believing women, to cover themselves with a loose garment. They will thus be recognized and no harm will come to them" (Qur'an 33:59) 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abaya

Part of the “cover-up” requirement in Saudi Arabia is also for women to cover their hair (p.s. It is not a requirement for Saudi women to cover their face.  This is something they choose to do.), although this doesn’t seem to be as much of a rule for non-muslim women.  We tend to not wear a scarf unless the muttawa (religious police) are around.  In fact, since I’ve been here, I’ve only felt the need to wear my head-scarf once.  This was when I went on a jaunt around the downtown of Riyadh with my friends.  There were no muttawa around, but men aren’t used to seeing women who are not completely covered.  Since we were in such a very public space we thought it best to play it safe.  Plus, for me, it’s just plain fun to get in the spirit of the place.  How often do I get to immerse myself in someone else’s culture for any length of time?  And the option of dressing up like a Muslim woman for Halloween just seems disrespectful to me.

Joking around on Olaya Street with my abaya and headscarf.

Being a westerner and getting away with not covering my hair while at a mall

From the beginning of my Saudi Arabian adventure, the Abaya presented as a bit of a problem.  I was going to have to wear one coming off of the plane.  So, where the crap do I get an abaya in Canada?  Alternatively, I could’ve worn a long jacket and loose pants upon arrival and bought an abaya as soon as possible, but I was already so overpacked that I didn’t want to have to try to fit a coat that I’d never wear again into my carry-on luggage.  Luckily, during my Christmas visit in Ottawa to see my lovely Malgosia, her awesome roommate, Christina, remembered passing by a Muslim clothing store at one time.  We looked it up and, low and behold, I had found the answer to my abaya problem.  Off we went to find and purchase the most unflattering piece of apparel that would ever grace my body.  And believe me, I had worn many unflattering pieces of clothing in the past. I did grow up in the era of hyper-colour shirts and wearing clothes backwards after all.  

http://www.sc.saynetwork.com/wyi-was-rad-in-the-90s/

http://runwaydiy.com/2011/05/18/diy-criss-cross-top/

So, now I’m in Saudi Arabia and have my ugly abaya that I thought, to my chagrin, I’d have to wear every time I left my compound or was not in the confines of my workplace.  This is in fact the case but, as it turns out, the majority of my time is not spent outside of these places.  And, since my driver comes into the compound to pick me up, I don’t even need to wear my abaya on my way to the car.  This is great!  Except, it makes remembering to wear my abaya a surprisingly difficult task when I actually am heading out into the public realm.  Every time that I’ve gotten ready to go on a shopping outing or to a restaurant I have actively stood in front of my closet and contemplated what I will wear for a good five minutes before realizing that it doesn’t matter what I wear.  I could, in fact, wear my bra and underwear under my abaya and nobody would know.  From what I’ve heard, many women actually do this, especially during the extremely hot summers here.

"Have a Namaste" from blendapparel.com

There is a convenience factor to wearing an abaya, as my lack of need to worry about what I will wear can attest to.  However, I'm not hot on the lack of individuality that it creates.  I’m not typically one to use my clothing to express my personality to any great degree.  I do, however, really enjoy wearing fun t-shirts from cool shops (shout out to threadless.com and blendapparel.com) and now I don’t get to do this as often as I’d like.  And abayas involve a very large amount of material to deal with.  They’re long and annoying when going up and down stairs and a huge worry of mine when I’m stepping on to and off of an escalator.  But, the most annoying part of wearing an abaya is the bathroom factor.

Oh how I’ve cursed my abaya when nature calls.  This was especially the case recently when I was getting my health check-up for my iqama (Saudi Arabian identification card).  I was required to give a urine sample.  No biggie in any other environment.  But, being in a sketchy clinic with a not-so-clean-super-tiny bathroom stall with no actual toilet seat on the toilet, getting a urine sample with oodles of black material draping from my shoulders to my legs was a serious challenge.  There were no hooks to hang my abaya on if I took it off.  I certainly did not want to put it on the wet and dirty floor.  Somehow I had to manage lifting and holding my abaya up whilst hovering over the seatless toilet, holding the sample cup in a way to get a proper sample without ‘soiling’ my hands, avoid having my abaya drop into the toilet water, and actually see what I was doing with said sample cup while wads of black material blocked my view.  Picture the photos you’ve seen of brides adorably and humourously maneuvering in a bathroom stall with their bridesmaids holding mounds of white satin and lace out of the way.  Except the material was black, I had no one to help me hold it out of the way, and you can rest assured that there was nothing adorable about it.  The situation, however, was definitely humourous. 

Getting back to the lack of individuality factor of wearing an abaya, I am actually kind of lying.  As my cousin, Jennifer, has told me, “necessity breeds invention,” and my how the ladies of Saudi Arabia are inventive.  Yes, black is the primary colour of an abaya, but there’s nothing stopping the ladies from adding a good bling factor to it.  Sometimes it can get a little extravagant and it has been fun for me to see what some of the women end up choosing to spice things up.  It got me thinking about what I would do if I was to get my own abaya made.  And then, one of the loveliest girls in Riyadh, my friend Munira, helped me experience this very thing.  Munira took me to an abaya shop that she and her family had been going to for the last 20 years.  It didn’t take long before I was being draped in black and getting measured for my very own custom abaya.  I was encouraged to walk amongst the shop and look at all the different styles of abayas and the various embroideries and glittery embellishments that I could choose to add to my very own abaya. 

http://americanbedu.com/2013/01/21/saudi-arabia-abaya-wedding-etiquette/

The starting point of my soon-to-be-custom-made abaya

There were large glittering orange suns gracing the front of one, flowing sleeves with flowery black lace streaming from the cuffs on another, empire waists, pleated skirts, embroidered designs on the backs and the hems, beautiful bright colours peaking out from the linings and along the collars.  It was a paradise of semi-subtle attire enhancement.  It was exciting and empowering to be able to choose a little from column A, and a little from column B.  There was so much to choose from that I decided one abaya was not going to be enough.  I wanted bling for my nights out.  I wanted simple bits of embroidered individuality for those times that I was in public while working and needed a professional yet functional abaya that suited working with a child.  Oh my, this was beginning to be an expensive venture.  I decided, finally, on an abaya that had a little bit of bling and a whole lot of simple style.  Not as functional as it should be to work with a child as I chose long draping sleeves, but no matter.  I don’t go outside of my workplace walls very often.  The store clerk was amazing and talked at length with Munira as she translated my polite English demands into Arabic.  He scribbled all of my specifics onto a sheet for the tailor to use as his recipe to create my first authentic piece of Saudi life.  I gave him my payment and he assured me, via Munira’s translation, that it would be completed in five days.  I clapped my hands in excitement and practically skipped out of the store with Munira giggling as she walked behind me.  And, right on time, my very own abaya made it to it's new home on the day I was to attend an Embassy of France party.  I felt like a Saudi queen walking along the streets of the Diplomatic Quarter (where all the embassies are located) wearing it.

In Joy,
Bonnie

Riyadh Interactive: Help me inform you!

Since my computer is on the fritz and I'm still keen to keep up with regular blog posts I came up with an idea.  I'm unable to do any real amount of typing because I'm just not that interested in hen pecking my way through a post via my phone.  Instead, I'm going to have you, my dearest readers, help me out.  Let me explain...

One thing that often happens to me when I travel is that I forget to look at the forest and concentrate only on the trees (or grains of sand in my case, I suppose).  When I leave a place I realize that there's a lot I missed simply because I forgot to shift my perspective now and again, or I simply didn't get curious about various aspects of life or culture while I was there.  This is where you guys come in.  I know a number of you have had questions for me about life in Riyadh and have asked me those questions on Facebook.  I have a feeling a number of others have questions of their own.  Now is the time to ask.  While I'm waiting for my computer to be repaired I'll become an investigative journalist and ask my seasoned Riyadh resident friends for answers if I can't answer them myself.  As a result of this little project, you'll get your curiosity quenched and I'll gain a better perspective of this interesting country.

To ask a question, click on the "Post A Comment" link below this blog entry and start typing.  Then I'll head out and start my research.  Once my computer is fixed I'll have oodles of material to write about.  Oooh! This is exciting!!

In Joy,
Bonnie