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

The Job and Why It's Amazing

The primary reason why I came to Saudi Arabia was because of a job.  Many of you who know me on Facebook and see the pictures of me traipsing around Riyadh and my compound may be wondering if that’s really the case, but it is true.  I came here because I was offered a job that would provide an amazing opportunity to expand my career. What I didn’t expect I would get from this job was an expansion of my perspectives on work and career and how it affects my well-being.

Before I go in to what I mean by my changing perspectives I must preface this blog entry with some realities of the job I had back home.  I worked as a speech-language pathologist in the school system and I loved every minute of it.  I couldn’t have asked for better people to work with.  The support services office I worked out of was filled with supportive colleagues who knew the challenges that each of us faced with heavy caseloads and daunting tasks laid in front of us.  The teachers and principals I worked with were welcoming and gracious and understanding.  The assistants who helped me provide therapy to my ever-expanding caseload were hard working and dedicated to taking what they learned and applying it to the students’ therapy programs.  Most importantly every one of these people I worked with were fun-loving, kind, and in many ways my friends.  And then there were the students.  Oh my amazing and oh so entertaining students, or “my kids” as I liked to call them.  I had a lot of them to remember and get to know.  Somehow I managed, and I’m so glad I did because these kids never ceased to make me smile and keep me aware of the importance to fill every possible moment with a sense of fun.

My job back home was wonderful in so many ways and there are many things that I miss about it.  However, it challenged me in ways that I didn’t quite expect to be challenged when I first left school and began my career in the school system.  I came out of my S-LP program wanting to take on the tough cases, learn everything I could about them, and create programs that were thorough and complete.  But I soon came to realize that, with so many children needing my assistance, I felt guilty taking a bunch of time to develop programs for just one or two children.  So, what happened as a result? I began doing what I could with the time and resources that I had.  While this approach is typical of many S-LPs in both school settings and clinical settings, it doesn’t make it ideal.  Unfortunately, it is a reality that we accept and move forward with.  I must pause here and mention that one of the luxuries of my job in BC was that I had autonomy with how I designed my schedule and therapy programs.  If I wanted to, I could have taken on those few cases here and there and put the majority of my energy into creating perfect therapy programs.  For me, though, I couldn’t justify doing that.  So, as a result, I ended up putting band-aids on therapy issues that needed full-on casts.

With the job I have now, I have the opportunity to actually apply the casts because I get to work with just one child.  This luxury is beyond amazing and please note that I am well aware of how lucky I am.  Words cannot express how grateful I am to the powers that be for giving me this opportunity.  Even just typing those words fill me with such a sense of joy that I feel I could float away on a cloud of bliss.  Working with one child is allowing me to concentrate on his issues.  I have the time to learn about his needs and apply what I learn directly. I can try new therapy techniques and feel comfortable making mistakes in delivery because I can catch them right away and fix them without delay.  I have the time to develop and create high-quality therapy programs and the materials that go along with them.  I can collect oodles of data easily and efficiently.  And to top it all off, the best part of this job is that I get to watch this little guy learn and develop skills bit by bit every hour of every day that I work with him. 

As if these great circumstances for therapy aren’t enough, I’m feeling some awesome spin-offs as a professional.  I am re-learning what it feels like to actually complete a project to a level and degree where I honestly feel I put all of my abilities and energy into making it just right.  I am gaining a sense of accomplishment that I haven’t felt since I worked on projects in school.  I forgot how important it is to be able to work hard at something and see it through to completion and know that I did my very best.  I feel proud of myself for the work that I do with this little boy.  And this motivates me to work even harder.  I have a newfound energy that is directed towards my job and it’s allowing me to put extra hours in at work; to the point where I have to remind myself to lay off and rest.  I love my job, but it’s for different reasons compared to why I loved my job in BC.  I love my job here because I’m put in a position where I can prove to myself that I’m capable of providing optimal therapy and applying what I worked so hard (and spent so much money) to learn how to do.  I’m in a position to personally recognize whole-heartedly that I am good at what I do and that I am a competent and professional S-LP.  An added surprise for me in all of this is that I’m realizing that I can develop myself as an S-LP.  I am gaining confidence that I didn’t know I was lacking and this is putting me in a position to feel I can branch out and do more in my profession.  What this means exactly is a mystery for me at this point, but I’m happy to wait patiently and see where all of this flows.

I now recognize that there were aspects of my work-life that I didn’t know I was missing.  I was happy back home, but not as happy as I could have been and working here in Riyadh has opened my eyes to this.  I’m glad I worked in the school system and I feel that it taught me a lot.  I’m also glad that I was given this opportunity to see my job as an S-LP from a different angle and to develop new and exciting career perspectives.

In Joy,

Bonnie

Driving in Riyadh OR Why I'm Happy I'm Female in Riyadh

(Unfortunately I don't have any good photos of examples of the driving that I describe in the following blog.  Instead I have pictures of some sights I've seen along my drives, so they will have to suffice for now.)

In an older part of Riyadh

Moving to Saudi Arabia meant a lot of changes in my life, a main one being that I wouldn't be allowed to drive.  I'm one of those people that drives A LOT.  For work, for general everyday errands, for travel, for shuttling when biking with friends...I could go on and on.  Essentially, much of my independence and convenience in life is the freedom I have from being able to drive whenever and where-ever I choose to go.  At least that was the case in Canada.  In Riyadh, I have to book a taxi from my compound, or ask the driver I have through work to make a quick stop here or there on my way home, or ask my male friends to let me know when they're going somewhere so I can hitch a ride with them (And this isn't really ideal as men who are not my husband or father technically aren't allowed to drive women around in Saudi Arabia either.  The men that offer to do this for me are actually taking quite a risk...they could be put in jail for it.  For some reason they don't seem concerned about this.).  Yes, I could look at this situation as being a pain in the ass to have to worry about how I'm going to get places, but I don't.  Why?  Because the driving here is freakin' crazy!!  It would take an awful lot of convincing and the promise that I'd be in an armoured vehicle wearing a helmet before you'd get me driving in Riyadh.  Let me explain...

One of the multiple grocery store chains

Not sure if this is a convenience store, but I thought it amusing that it was called Meed and back home the convenience stores are called "Needs"

Many company headquarters are this fancy

An entire new section of city (financial district) being constructed all at once.

One of the first things I learned after moving to Saudi Arabia one month ago was how SLOW everything is.  If you are in a rush to get something done you are essentially screwed.  It's a wonderful test of zen, and luckily I've been adapting fairly well to it (I'll probably go to more detail in a blog about this aspect of Riyadh-life in the future).  While life in general here in Saudi is slow moving, driving specifically most definitely is not.  On the highway, the speed limit is 120 km/hour.  And because Saudi's REALLY enjoy going fast in their cars (I swear, this is how they make up for being so bloody slow at everything else) the cars have been equipped with nice little buzzers and lights that go off on the dashboard indicating when they've exceeded the 120 km/hour limit.  Luckily, my drivers have actually listened to this signal, but I really think it's just cause the manufacturers made it nice and annoying.



A few weeks ago my cousin, Tracy, posted a note on her Facebook profile talking about an experience while driving back home in Canada.  She said, "Last night...I was about to pass a car that was driving below the speed limit. Then I noticed him swerve into my lane, thankfully before I was next to him. Then he veered back to his lane. Thought he might be drunk, really. While passing, I peeked over...there he is, with a car full of people, some of them kids, holding his cell phone up to the steering wheel and texting. I was so wild." She proceeded to talk about how dangerous this is and that the solution is simple, pull over to text or talk on your cell.  Sounds logical enough.  Not in Riyadh, however.  Oh Tracy, if you were here you would possibly end up going mentally insane.  It is common practice to text and talk on your cell while driving here, but not at slow speeds like your teenage friend was doing.  Oh no!  Because, you see, if you slow down to anything below the flow of traffic and create a gap larger than half a car length between you and the car in front of you, you will get chastised by the cars behind you via long-winded horn blowing.  No, if you're texting on your cell you'll quickly be reminded to speed up, so the men driving in Riyadh have learned to keep their foot firmly planted on the gas pedal while typing on their phones.

Road construction, Riyadh style

Speaking of teenagers driving...let's put a few things into perspective in that regard.  There have been a few times when I looked over into nearby cars while driving down the highway and noticed smooth baby-like faces in the driver-seat.  Keep in mind that Saudi men are dark skinned and not known for their ability to avoid the (in my opinion) oh so appealing 5 o'clock shadow or beard.  Suffice it to say that I was not surprised when I was told that it sometimes occurs when Saudi mothers really need to get somewhere.  If their husbands or fathers are not available who do they call for assistance?  Well, their 13 year old son of course.  Luckily, these boys-becoming-men are fairly well versed at driving on the highway at such a young age.  This is because many men allow their children to sit on their laps while driving.  

So, that covers what happens inside the vehicles of many drivers in Riyadh, but what does it all look like from the outside?  Well, consider those times when you've driven down the road and some crazy person zooms past you at a ridiculous speed, then veers in and out of lanes weaving through cars like he/she is driving on a go-cart track.  Yes, as you might expect, that is a typical way to drive around here.  Once you get used to it, it's actually quite entertaining to watch.  Keep in mind that not every driver does this, but it's a very common practice.  What we consider to be "crazy" driving in Canada is actually the norm here.  What we consider to be "suicidal" driving in Canada is what would be considered "crazy" driving here. 

Bott's Dotts (from Wikipedia...not a picture taken in Riyadh)

A suberb, half constructed with the soon to be financial district in the background

More construction

As fun as all this is to witness (and yes, I say fun, because it's really the only perspective to take without risking having a heart attack from the stress that being amongst this chaos could cause), the most entertaining aspect of my drive is the lane changing strategies drivers have.  It's like they're playing a game of chess, constantly considering the neighbouring driver's next move, trying to make their own move before anyone else predicts what they're going to do.  Many never use turn-signals.  None do shoulder checks (apparently no one's ever bothered to explain to these drivers the concept of blind-spots).  Instead, a quick flicking of their bright lights or a honk of their horn when coming up to pass is all that's required.  Whether the other driver sees the flashing of lights or even cares to listen to it is a whole other matter.  And, when I say lane changes, I use the word "lane" with the loosest of definitions.  Yes, there are lines on the road indicating the suggestion of lanes.  They're even designed using painted bumps called "Bott's Dots" that are, I'm assuming, supposed to annoy the crap out of a driver who dares to drive over them instead of respecting the lane indicators.  They don't work.  Basically, if a car can fit in a space it will be there.  This compacting way of driving happens, for the most part, during the slow-moving traffic jams that often occur at the end of the work-day or on Wednesday evenings (which are the equivalent of Fridays in Canada, as the weekend here is Thursday and Friday).  Often, the reasoning behind jamming your car into a space that a Vespa would be lucky to fit into is for the driver to do his damndest to bully his way into a spot in the "lane" that he needs to get into in order to make it to his off-ramp in time.  Why he doesn't just plan ahead and get in the "lane" long before he needs to is beyond my comprehension.  I think there's something in the challenge and an adrenaline-rush factor involved in the last-minute scramble to get into a required "lane."

A Riyadh suberb

Finally, what about when we're actually not moving?  The car has to be parked somewhere.  According to Saudis, anywhere is just fine.  Just running in a corner store for a quick purchase?  No need to spend time looking for a spot.  Just park behind someone else.  If the driver of the car you blocked comes back, he'll be sure to let you know you're in his way.  See an open space on a downtown corner?  Go for it.  No worries that you're parked right beside the stop sign.  Oh, and a quick note about stop signs...they're really just reminders to look for moving cars in the intersection you're about to sail through.

When all is said and done, though, somehow drivers manage to survive quite well around here.  I'm sure there are fatal accidents, but with all the driving I've done in the last month, the only accidents I've witnessed or come across have been minor fender benders.  None of them involved myself and my driver.  I've been in close calls, but my driver always seems to know that it's coming and weasles his way out of it and they've always been at lower speeds.  Like I said before, it's actually pretty entertaining to experience the driving around here.  This is probably because I really trust the drivers, especially my driver from work.  They are professionals when it all comes down to it and I'm glad it's them driving and not me. 

More construction

In Joy,
Bonnie