Ashley's Arabian Adventure

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.

I have made many references to the paying to pee in London, I'm sure. It irritates me anywhere but in Victoria station. I'm sure you are asking why, so let me answer that for you. Most places cost 50p (about 75 cents) and they are gross toilets. If you can't keep them clean, why in the world am I paying to use them? Anyway, Victoria's potties only cost 30p and they have those super cool speedy hand dryers. You know, the ones with the "air blade?" And Victoria's toilets are usually really clean. I'm down to pay when I know it's going to be clean.

So let me find my way back to the point to my story. Oh, so you have to have exact change for these superior toilets. There are change machines about two feet away, so no big deal. But what do you do when both change machines are out of change and you are about to pee your pants? Yep, I had to jump the arm thing. I was a bit embarrassed and slightly worried that someone would come after me.

The trip to Scotland was probably my favorite so far. We were only there for two days, but we had the best time. We participated in this torch thing for the start of Hogamany, climbed a volcano and watched a cheesy video about the Loch Ness monster. Well, and of course we did a ton of shopping. That was a lot of fun, but the most important thing was the amazing mexican food! We ate at the same place both days. It was so good. Yeah.

Oh the new year! It's always a bit exciting. We get to get all dressed up and go to a party and make new year's resolutions that we will ultimately forget about in approximately 4.7 days. Then we feel like failures of course. Why do we even make new years resolutions? Do we feel like we can only make major changes in ourselves when a new year begins? Why do people make 15 of them and really believe they will achieve something?

Well this year some friends and I were joking and making resolutions for each other. Of course it doesn't take long for that to hurt someone's feelings, as I'm sure you can imagine. The one that was made up for me was to be nicer. I tend to think I am generally nice, but as I started to think about it I realized that I'm not. Sure, I'll do anything for people I like. I'll serve in anyway I can...when it's a person I like. And even when I consider the people I like, I'm still not very nice to them. In any given conversation, I will probably say something sarcastic or rude. Even when I am trying to be nice or consciously thinking about not being sarcastic, it comes out somehow. I started to ask myself why.

I guess it goes back to about 7th grade. I realized that all the cool kids were the ones who had something sarcastic to say about everything. There was this guy called Andrew who was the funny guy that everyone liked. He always had a funny little quip for anything that was said or done. Being in the 7th grade and wanting to be cool, I started doing this. It's been downhill ever since. Now, ten years later, I can't shake it. I have been able to keep a small portion of these comments in my head, but there are times, well lots of times, when that filter seems to be out of order. And really, I would like for these comments to go away completely. I want to be filled with love for people rather than rude thoughts and words. But, in all actuality, I don't know how to be nice. I don't know how to stop this monster.

I thought I had it this year. I mean last year was my first Christmas without the family and all, so this year I should be a pro at it. Aaaand my wonderful friend Anna is here sacrificing her Christmas with her family to spend it with me. That means I shouldn't be having a pity party, right? I suck at this.