Ashley's Arabian Adventure

Iftar is the breaking of the fast at sunset every night during Ramadan. Families get together just before sunset and have the table set and they are ready to eat right when the call to pryer sounds. Usually the ladies of the family have been cooking all day long, but never eating or drinking anything.

Last night the family down the hill invited me over for some taco salad before iftar. When we heard the call we decided to take a walk. It was almost creepy how still and quiet it was outside. Even all the guards in our neighborhood had disappeared to go break the fast. All we could hear were the forks clinking on the plates as people were eating. Also, the temperature is wonderful right at sunset. It was the perfect time for a walk.

I have heard stories about what iftar looks like in a restaurant. Everyone has their food a few minutes before and they hover over it with fork and knife in hand, ready for the call. Sometimes they even have a cigarette ready to light. Tonight I am going to go check it out for myself.

Last night I went to my first Arab wedding and it was so much fun! Other than trying to figure out the greeting kisses and old ladies speaking Arabic super fast like I could understand them, it was really great. As you can see in the picture here, it was pretty cheesy and reminded me a lot of prom. Well minus boys, I suppose.

So here's how it went down. It "started" at 5:00, so we showed up a little before 6 and the bride and groom showed up a while after that. They stood outside of the girls' room while the ladies of the family all danced in front of them in this circle. Then they came inside and went on the stage and sat on this throne-like thing. At some point they did the rings, but it wasn't really like announced or anything. Then they danced with the smoke and all that jazz. After a while everyone joined in and they went to sit down. They went and sat on the stage and then came back to dance again several times and when they weren't dancing all of the ladies were. After a this went on for a while the groom left and most of the coverings came off. The ladies were in everything from prom dresses to jeans. I saw my roommate's language teacher's hair for the first time and I was really surprised at how pretty she was when she wasn't in her abaya and scarf. I got dragged out on the dance floor by her and her mom several times. I showed off some of my belly dancing skills and was later informed that her whole family was looking at me. I'm glad I didn't know that at the time!

After a while the guys came into the room and all the coverings went back on. They wheeled in this massive cake with nine or ten tiers. The best part was that it also had sparklers on it. The couple then had to cut every tier with a sword. We ate some cake and then there was some awkward dancing with the guys in the room. Girls can only dance with guys they are related to and it was a bit awkward to see brothers and sisters dancing like that. When we were ready to go we had to go congratulate the bride and groom. That was where the awkward kisses came in. I was not warned ahead of time how that works and I was trying to figure it out and speak Arabic at the same time. It didn't work out so well, but I guess that's when it's good that I am obviously a foreigner!

There are a few more pictures from the wedding on fb if you want to check them out.

A couple of weeks ago I decided I should go ahead and get LASEK since it's so much cheaper here than in America. I had the surgery today and everything went well, but I experienced a lot of Arab-ness along the way.

When we discussed prices it turned into a negotiation. Silly me, I figured this was one of those things that had a pretty set price. Then we discussed what I would need to do for the surgery. The doctor told me over and over that I would not be able to do my eyebrows for a while so I needed to go have them done the day before surgery. Apparently eyebrows are serious business around here. For my checkup appointment right before surgery she told me to come in after lunch. What time is that exactly?

Today was full of even more Arab culture experiences. The doctor told me to be there at 8:15 and was pretty insistent that I be on time. I was even early. That was dumb. I waited for her for a while. As the waiting room kept filling up, it was like a game of musical chairs to make sure a woman didn't have to sit next a man she didn't know. Definitely cultural. When we finally went back, she was the only one with good English and she wasn't really around. The nurses were telling me to do things in Arabic and I was pretty much guessing about what was going on. Then when it came time to pay, it went down like a shady drug deal. I went in this tiny room with one of the murses and he took the money and scurried away. I was later asked if I would like a Valium. Um, sure. It ended up making me sick and I passed out after the first eye. But when I came to, I was answering in Arabic. Holla!

So many ridiculous things have happened to me in the past month that I don't even know where to start. But this is my attempt to recap some of the things that I probably should have blogged about.

There was the time that I almost got run over by the Prime Minister and his entourage. Apparently we live in the same neighborhood.

Then there was the time I was asking for the bathroom in Arabic (hamam) and instead asked where a similarly named terrorist organization was.

What about that one time when I was trying to go in the grocery store and they wouldn't let me and I couldn't figure out why? The security guard was making hand motions and pointing at my stuff and speaking Arabic. I later figured out that if you have bags with you, you have to check them in or get them sealed before you can shop.

My favorite is probably the time I got kicked out of a taxi on the side of this major street because it was about to break down. I had a bunch of groceries too. To keep it short, the meter read 1.15, so I thought I was being generous in giving him the 1 since I never actually made it to my destination. He disagreed and yelled at me about the rest. I gave him the last .15 while yelling "Are you kidding me?" several times. I have since learned how to say that in Arabic. I'm sure an opportunity to use it will arise.

I have also learned that it is not wise to buy decaf coffee unless it is from Starbucks. Maybe decaf means super espresso in Arabic. I'm not sure.

Recently I experienced a great loss in my life. It was unexpected and I am still not finished grieving. Any loss is hard, but this one has been a challenge to get through. It has only been about two weeks since the tragic demise of my hard drive, but I am working through it. I have also learned that backing up is probably a pretty good idea. Those techy people know what they are talking about. Due to this very sad event, I was feeling so disconnected from the world. One day I was trying to decide what to do to entertain myself. Internet? Nope. Call home? Nope. Watch DVD? Nope. Listen to music? Nope. Get work done? Nope. Thanks goodness I have been loaned a laptop until my hard drive arrives by camel. Seriously, four to five weeks to get a part from Dubai? It must be coming by camel. Rant complete.

Leaving the UK was predictably difficult, but I am so glad to be here! Maybe it is possible to adapt to any culture, but I think this one is a better fit. I think I will fit into it pretty quickly. In just a few days I have learned enough to get around by taxi alone, where the best local food is found and where to get good quality pirated DVDs. In the past few days I have found more American food than I ever saw in the UK, yelled at a taxi driver for trying to rip me off, and accidently and awkwardly made eye-contact with a lot of Arab men.

At Popeye’s (PTL!) I accidently made eye-contact with a man and then he tried to talk to me. Eye-contact is like hard-core flirting here. Of course I had no idea what he was saying so I stared at my chicken and hoped he would go away. Well he did, but then he came back and sat at a table next to me and kept chatting away. Finally my friend came back from getting her food and he shut up. Awkward! I think that has been one of the most challenging things so far. I tend to make a lot of eye-contact with people, but I will surely get over that quickly.

So this morning I decided to “read” the paper. Maybe 2% of it was in English, but what I found was pretty amazing. Check out the swimsuit ads!

That's veilkini.com in case that didn't make it in the photo. You're welcome.

That so happened to me today. I went into London to take my GRE and allowed over half an hour to get from Victoria to Cannon Street. It's only like 5 stops down on the Circle/District line, so I thought I gave myself plenty of time. As I get on the underground an announcement is made about some idiot causing a power outage on the line and that alternate routes were advised. I realize that Cannon Street is only on the District line and that I am going to have to take a bus. I don't usually do the bus because it's confusing. Well I just run up the stairs and out of the station and pretty much assault the first bus driver I see. He very kindly walks me to the bus stop I need and tells my which bus will get me pretty close. I figure I'll just take a taxi from St. Paul's since I don't know where to go from there. Anyway, by the time I get on the bus, I have about 25 minutes until I am supposed to be there to register. The bus takes it's sweet time and I notice that we are in a traffic jam about three-quarters of the way down Victoria Street and I have about 15 minutes left at this point. Well since I know there's no way I will make it in time on the bus, I basically jump out of the bus and take off running towards Westminster station, passing Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and Parliament as I go. There are tons of tourists all over the place and I am running and pushing throught the crowd, running in front of taxis and buses to cross the streets. As I run with Big Ben and the London Eye in front of me, I think about how a camera should be following me and how I wished I was in better shape. Anyway I finally get to the station and find out that the District line was back in service. I scream "praise the Lord" and then realize that I screamed it. Slightly embarrassed, I dash down to the train and catch it just in time. The train goes a few stops down and then announces that it will terminate at the stop just before mine. Seriously!? So I get off and wait for the next one. Once I finally get to Cannon Street, I run the 100 feet to the place I need to be a rip open the door. The receptionist looks a bit frightened and directs me to where I needed to be...15 minutes ago. Praying that they even let me take the exam, I walk in and get registered. Praise the Lord, I was able to take the exam and I even rocked out the math part! That's pretty much my story of the month.

As I was sitting at the gate in the Athens airport waiting to head home, I reflected on my time in Greece and then about what I have learned since living overseas. After interacting with some not so nice American tourists, I thought to myself about how I'm not really a typical American anymore. I think that Americans are taught to be arrogant about being American and being from the most powerful and well-known country in the world. Of course we do everything better than other countries, so why wouldn't we feel that way? As I sat there thinking about how much I've grown into this amazing citizen of the world, a lady comes and asks me to put my bag into the metal hand-luggage size checker of death. In case you are unaware, EasyJet charges you extra to check a bag and it isn't much if you do it ahead of time, but last minute you really don't want to pay for it.

As I am walking over to the size checker thing, I am thinking that my bag might not fit and this is going to suck. Of course the bag doesn't fit and the lady tells me I have to check it. I told her I was not going to check it. She explains that I can either leave the bag behind or check it or give it another go in the sizer thing. Well I decide to try again and tell her once more that I was not going to check the bag. When I set the bag up there, it was obvious that the wheels were the problem and I tell the lady that the wheels are the problem and she says too bad. I then tell her that she is welcome to break the wheels off because I am not checking the bag. She says she doesn't care what I have to do, but the bag is not going on the plane until it has made it's way into the thing. As I am considering putting all of the clothes from the suitcase on my body to get them home, I give it a couple of big shoves and it goes in. Then it wouldn't come out. Great. The airline lady made some comments and ended up getting it out and I went back to my seat.

As soon as I sat down embarrassment washed over me. I couldn't believe that I had acted like that. And how much more ridiculous am I that I thought I was better than other American tourists because I knew how to behave abroad. I laughed at myself and knew that I had to apologise to her. So as I boarded the plane and sheepishly handed her my American passport I told her how sorry I was for being rude. At first she looked at me like she didn't understand me so I repeated myself and her face lit up with a smile and she informed me that she experienced the same thing everyday. I wonder if anyone else has ever apologised to her. Have you ever acted a fool and had to apologise afterwards? It's pretty humbling.

I have been checking into the logistical stuff for my move here soon. Well I only get 20 kilos of luggage with my flight and excess baggage is about $22/kilo. I'm going to be looking into air freighting, I think. Also, I am sorting through all of this junk I have accumulated over the past year and a half. My piles are take with, take to America in May, leave here and take to America later, sell/give away and throw away. Fun.

Another problem is culturally appropriate clothing. It turns out I don't have much of it. So while figuring out how to pack lightly for a move, I am still shopping for things to take. Boo.

The fun part is I have a sewing machine from my mom! I am getting all Martha Stewart on some of my clothes and they are becoming culturally appropriate. I forgot how much I love to sew!

One more note for you. I filled out this online thing a few months ago for The X Factor. I was bored and I thought it would be funny to act a fool since I can't sing. Anyway I got an invitation to audition in the mail yesterday. I considered going and acting like I thought I was good and probably name-dropping some friends and hoping to get on the show. But it turns out that would require standing in the queue at the O2 arena for like 12 hours. Not worth it.

I am just under three months away from something completely different and my European adventure is coming to a close for now. When I think about what is coming, I am so excited and ready to jump in with both feet. Well mostly. Starting over is always a bit difficult. I may not have very many friends and I may not have too much of a social life, but I have my community and my routine here. I am not nervous about going to a new place, but I am nervous about starting over. A new house, new furniture, new clothing, new people, new job, new language, new culture, new food...I'm nervous, but so excited. The thing that really makes me sad is leaving what has become home. When I first got here I never thought this place would truly become my home, but it has. I am used to not seeing the sun for weeks and not ever wearing shorts. I have even come to appreciate my pasty whiteness and I feel like a mole when the sun comes out.