My Work'ation: Part Two - These are My Favourite London'y Things

…continued from My Work'ation: Part One - A Sad State of Mind

I had been in London for five days before my weekend began.  During those five days, while traveling around the city working in parks with my little student and finding playgroups for him to attend, I was taking note of the sites that I might want to check out later.  Our driver, whom I’ll call Mr. N, was fantastic.  He called me darling every time I asked him a question.  “Okay, darling.” He would say when I asked him to drive us to a certain park.  “Yes, darling.” When I asked him if that was Queen Victoria’s statue. “The changing of the guard, darling.” When I watched, fascinated, as the Beefeaters marched towards Buckingham palace.  Mr. N. was more than happy to explain to me where I needed to go for anything I wanted to do.  So, when the weekend arrived I had my plans all set out.  Tower of London Saturday morning, St. Paul’s Cathedral Saturday afternoon, check out a London band at a nearby pub Saturday night, brunch with my old friend, Paul, on Sunday, followed by a bike tour of the city.  First thing was first, though.  It was Friday night and Bonnie wanted a beer.

St. Paul's Cathedral peeking out from a London Alleyway

I asked the doorman what pub nearby was a good one to visit.  I specified the need for some live music to give me something to do while enjoying my beer.  I wasn’t fond of the idea of looking like a lonely sap nursing a beer at the bar on a Friday night.  He pointed me in the direction of a piano bar, which wasn’t exactly what I was aiming for, but I figured that it couldn’t hurt to at least check it out.

While walking to the bar I passed by pub after pub, each one with a large group of loud and laughing Londoners milling about the front having a cigarette or, as with one gentleman in particular, urinating on the street light pole.  It was apparent that the local drinking begins directly after work hours; therefore I was four hours behind in the beverage-consuming department.

I found my target piano bar and was not disappointed.  The entertainment was talented and the crowd was happy and in a dancing mood.  I ordered my beer and leaned against the bar to watch the antics.  It was an interesting perspective as I’m usually part of the dancing and fun-having crowd.  I didn’t realize how entertaining it could be for on-lookers.  It wasn’t long, however, that a sweetly smiling guy came up to me,  stretched out his hand, and asked me to join him on the dance floor.  Off I went to become one with the London merrymakers. 

The dancer in question was named Ravi and our dancing soon turned into some great conversation.  A friendship was quickly bonded.  Unfortunately, Ravi’s carriage was turning into a pumpkin all too soon and he had to leave the revels early.  He promised to show me around London while I was in town and then was off.  It didn’t take long for me to get myself back on the dance floor, however, continuing to make new friends and insuring that my fun evening lasted early into the morning.

London Bridge

As it happened, the plans to be a true tourist in London did not turn out very well.  Since I was dragging my tired danced out ass back to the hotel only a few hours before the Tower of London tour was to begin, that idea was awash.  I did make it to a few cool historical places but I discovered that London was going to be a place of spending time with dear friends and socializing.  Yes, this may have been because my weekend socializing often meant I was waking up too late and in a state of health not conducive to touring around historical buildings for hours on end.  I think, however, that it had more to do with the fact that my heart and mind were filled with friendly connections and kindnesses that tour guides can’t quite give you.

Lichfield Cathedral in the English countryside

Afternoon tea with Emily

Something happened during the time I spent with my friends in England, both old and new.  Between my excursions to the lovely borough that Paul lives in; and a weekend jaunt to the English countryside to visit my friend, Emily, and her husband, Paul; and the post-work evening meanderings around London proper with Ravi I came to realize that London was giving me the feeling of familiarity that I get when I’m home.  I was given the opportunity to experience London, and England, as if I were a part of it and not just a visitor.  The connections with my friends allowed me to connect with London.  I no longer felt so overwhelmed by the crowds of people.  Instead, I learned where the quiet boroughs of the city were.  I also learned the benefit of the weekend escape to the country.  A little hustle and bustle in the crowds were bearable knowing that, when work was finished, I could find my happy place with Ravi by my side in the comfort of my friendship.

Yes, I fell in love with London.  I could spend three blog entries detailing each aspect of that city that makes me love it and another three to describe the beauty of the English countryside.  I will not do that but I will do something to give you a taste of what I love about England.  I transformed a familiar little “ditty” on my last day in London due to being giddy with the happiness that being in England had helped me to find again.  Please forgive me, as I was a tad sentimental. You will understand when you read on.

My Favourite London’y Things

(To the tune of The Sound Of Music's "Favourite Things")

Getting intimate with the locals

Buildings with gargoyles and gorgeous cathedrals.
Train rides and tube rides; public bikes to pedal.
Statues and monuments for all eyes to see.
They’re why London is my favourite city.

Hot men in crisp suits with great shoes and nice hair.
Parks filled with animals and bird songs floating through the air.
An accent that pulls at my fragile heart strings.
These are my favourite London’y things.

History that humbles my short existence.
Boroughs with green parks and fabulous substance.
English countryside and quaint towns so sweet.
This is why England has made me happy.

When the sandbox
Makes me crazy
I'll just get away,
By simply going online and booking a plane
To London then I’ll feel sane!

Stay tuned for "My Work'ation: Part Three - A Long and Luxurious Bath in French Culture" where I tell you about my experience with Paris...oui, oui...ooh la la!!

In Joy,

Bonnie

My Work'ation: Part One - A Sad State of Mind

Any of you who've been following my blog may have noticed a significant decrease (*cough* non-existence *cough*) of blog entries during the summer months.  Well, to explain, I've been far away from my writing head-space and eye-ball deep in traveling.  A little for myself, and a lot with work.

I would go into the details of my vacation home to my beloved British Columbia, but this blog is about my adventures in Saudi Arabia.  Plus, many of you already know the ins and outs of the fabulous'ness that is British Columbia so you don't need my descriptions of it.  I suppose this logic kind of negates the writing of my travels while working with the sweet little boy that is my student, since I was not in Saudi Arabia per say.  I was, however, traveling as a result of the reason I'm living in Saudi Arabia,  so there is my Arabian connection and now writing about my time in London and Paris has been justified.

The awesomeness I left back home.

Getting ready for five weeks in Europe was interesting.  I'm not talking about packing for the trip, I'm talking about my state of mind.  I had traveled for 24 hours and skipped over ten time zones only to be back in Riyadh for seven days before flying to London with the family I work for.  On top of that, my supervisor was in Riyadh for our scheduled "individualized education plan" review, updates, and consulting that equated a week of 12 hour days.  I was running on fumes.  This would've been fine, but remember that I had just left my world of mountains and forests and biking and the most fantastic group of fun and caring friends imaginable.  I had experienced the greatest actualization of love that is my home and I was required to leave it.  I was desperately sad and my exhaustion was driving me into a hole of despair.  Suffice it to say, looking back, I do believe I was in a mild state of depression.

I most certainly was not able to look forward to traveling.  I wasn't looking forward to anything, really.  I was also hard on myself for being like this because, ever since I was little, I had dreamed of visiting England.  Jane Austen is one of my favourite authors. Shakespeare delighted me during high school. I have watched almost every British romantic comedy filmed from 1995 and onwards at least twice and maybe half of the British dramas.  I won't even get in to the amount of British television that I've watched.  I actually used to read my study notes in a British accent when preparing for tests and exams because it made me feel smarter.  Now I was finally visiting London, and would have weekends off to enjoy it, and I couldn't have cared less.

What was contained in my lost luggage.

We arrived in London and, while I could definitely appreciate that it was cool to be there, I noticed my tendency to highlight more of the negative things about the city than the positive things.  This was not good.  This was not me.  I am a happy person, yet hopelessness and sadness were starting to feel like the norm for me.  And then a saving grace in the form of a bad situation occurred.  My luggage had been lost.  I had no clothes besides what I was wearing and no toiletries whatsoever.  All I had with me was my computer and, thankfully, my work notes and therapy plans.  My luggage was predicted to make it to me in four days.  Shit, shitty, shit.

This, for me, was a wake up call.  For a long time I have believed that shit-storms in life are not a result of the world coming down on you.  Instead, they are a result of your own negative attitudes and energy coming back to bite you in the ass.  That's what my luggage getting lost was; the universe telling me to start thinking more positively or more crappy situations were going to be paying me a visit.

Let's be honest here.  How horrible was my situation anyway?  Losing my luggage was really not that big of a deal.  I was staying in a luxury hotel just down the road from Trafalgar Square, two blocks away from Westminster Abbey, and a ten minute walk away from Buckingham Palace.  AND I was getting paid to be there.  My life was (and is) flipping amazing and I was whining because I had to spend another six months away from home.  I felt the need to walk outside and ask the hotel's doorman to give me a swift and severely hard kick in the ass.

I didn't think the doorman would have actually gone through with it so, instead, I started to ignore the negative thoughts that floated into my brain.  I began to take pause and remind myself of all the goodness that is part of my life and the world around me.  Most importantly, I started to see the awesomeness that is London.  Then my first weekend off arrived.

I'll tell you all about London in Part Two - These Are My Favourite London'y Things.  Until then...

In Joy,
Bonnie

Experience and Freedom - Why Ask For Anything More?

My reason for moving to Saudi Arabia was mainly to pay off my student loans and credit card.  Paying for undergrad and grad school is an expensive venture.  And my loan payments were eating up a ton of my disposable income.  Okay, let's be honest.  They were eating up all of my disposable income, hence my credit card bill.  So, the thought of becoming debt free and using all the money I typically set aside for loan payments to buy the things I've always wanted was extremely appealing to me.  Now that I'm here in Saudi Arabia I'm actually paying off my loans.  It is an awesome experience.  There's nothing quite like the feeling of slapping a solid chunk of money on a loan, reducing it by 1/4 of what it was at one fell swoop.  But there's a realization that I'm coming to about the possibilities I will have for my life when I'm debt free.  Through discussions with my friends whom experience a debt free life themselves, as well as things I've been reading via recommendations from these friends, I'm recognizing that my life isn't going to gain a lot of abundance simply because I can buy more things.  There's more to life than "things."

I'm typically not a materialistic person.  I'm not necessarily a collector of "things" and certainly not someone who goes out looking for the best gadget or the newest design.  Geezus, now that I think of it, before moving to Riyadh I went approximately two years without buying new clothes (not counting the new bike shorts, wool t-shirts, and snowboarding pants that were a necessity for the sports I love).  Outside of buying paintings from my fav artist and friend, Ting Yuen, (I love surrounding myself in beauty), the things I bought were always required for something I loved to do.  I spend money on the activities I love that give me the experiences that I crave.  Why I got it in my head that more money meant I would buy more things is beyond me.

It's not things that I'm going to get out of being debt free.  And it's not even having money in the bank to buy stuff that I need in order to do the things I love; although that is something I'm looking forward to doing.  Being debt free is going to give me something more.  It's going to give me freedom.  As many of my friends and family know, I am not the type of person who can commit.  I've soul searched many-a-day-and-night and still can't comprehend the idea of getting married.  Children, not a chance (and believe me, I've thought long and hard about this one).  When someone invites me to a party that's five days away, I only say, "maybe" or, "I'll see how I feel."  I am well aware of the fact that change is the only constant in life.  I embrace change.  I love it, in fact.  I love flowing with change and seeing where it takes me.  I've never failed to be in love with the life that change brings to me, no matter how difficult the transition period may be.  So, committing to someone or something doesn't make a lot of sense to me.  Committing, to me, just means I'm putting myself into a position to resist change when it comes along.

When it comes to debt, I'm beginning to see it as a commitment.  It's a commitment to being required to do some sort of job in order to pay it off.  When the debt load is high, it's a great situation for making me feel handcuffed to a particular job that may pay well, but isn't necessarily what I love to do.  Or maybe it's a job that I loved at one time, but through the inevitable changeability of life, I developed new desires for new experiences in my career.  Or maybe it's a job that I still love, but I want to reduce my workload or modify the way I do my job.  Debt isn't very good at making it easy to take the risks that many life transitions require.  When opportunities arise and my heart's desire and my intuition start to guide me to new and wonderful life adventures I want the freedom to be able to do so.  Being debt free will allow this to happen.

Ah, but I must get back to that extra money that I will have in my pocket when I finish up here in KSA.  Because, with freedom from debt, I will be able to pay for some cool things if I so desire.  I LOVE being outdoors and physically active, seeing new countryside where I can do my favourite activities, and doing all this with friends who love the same things.  Having extra money available will allow me to purchase whatever it is that I require to experience the life that I love and give me more opportunities to share these experiences with friends (without the post-purchase-depression that I used to experience because, let's face it, I still did these things in the past... I just did it while adding more to my debt-load with my handy-dandy credit card).  Yes, the items that I purchase will often be expensive (my dream mountain bike is $7,500), and the places I go to have these experiences can be pricey too (hitting up Sunpeaks, Silver Star, and Whistler bike parks are not cheap ventures).  But what buying these things does for me is create the experiences that bring the feeling of physical and spiritual fulfillment and the feeling of true love that being around friends and like minded people bring into my life.

That's what is important, isn't it?  Feeling the love of others and being truly and honestly fulfilled by life in general.  I've had an inkling about this for a while now, but it really hit home when I read this article "How to Buy Happiness".  Essentially it says much of what I've been saying here, but backs it up with research.  Oh how I love when science and philosophy combine, and in such a beautiful way.  A talk on TED that I watched recently by Adam Baker called "Sell Your Crap. Pay Your Debt. Do What You Love." backed up my thoughts as well.  Almost to an exact degree actually.  Nothing quite like having your philosophical inklings being validated by someone who has already been there. (/high five to me!)

Yes, life is going to be good when I get back to the world that I love.  In the meantime, however, I've got to do some hard work.  Life is not so easy here in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.  I'll get into that more in an upcoming blog entry.  I have had a hard time transitioning to the idea of working in a place that can be so hard on the soul; especially when I had it so good back home in Canada.  Luckily, my friend Mark (or maybe it was his girlfriend, Krista) posted a quote on Facebook about a month ago that really hit home with me.  I can't remember the exact quote, but it basically said that in order to reap, you must sow.  Simple and to the point and something I already knew, but somehow forgot.  So, this is my time to sow.  I've been here for five months and, I will quickly admit, the number of hard times have been evened out with good times thanks to my Riyadh friends.  Knowing that I have a life of freedom and grand experiences ahead of me will make all of the sowing I do here in Riyadh well worth it.

In Joy,
Bonnie

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