Drifting

It's been awhile since I've updated my blog, and it is not because there have been a lack of things to say. I suppose the longer I'm here, the more "normal" daily occurrences become and the less pressed I am to write about them.

I've gotten used to tires screeching outside of my home, undoubtedly young men "drifting" with their cars. Rubber on cement and surplus testosterone is the sound of "tafheet" (drifting, in Arabic). The first time I saw a car drifting I literally thought the driver had lost control of his car. I could not fathom that this was done intentionally on a busy highway on a Friday evening. I suppose in some cases it is the "cool" thing to do, especially outside of an all girls high school. It is a dangerous recreational activity that is brought upon by sheer boredom, a lack of alternative options and an abundance of money. Riyadh is a closed society with a large group of affluent teenage boys that are too old to enter the mall with their mothers and too young to have a wife to shop with. If malls--the main weekend activity here--is off limits, guys take to the streets in their expensive cars handed to them by their wealthy fathers. I am talking about a particular group of young men in this Saudi society who use Hummers and dangerous tricks to impress girls who may be watching or listening. Unfortunately, I feel that very few of those people have a real understanding of human connections beyond materialistic things. I think part of their shortcomings have to do with young age, but it mostly has to do with living in a numb society that uses money to drift along in life.

Work and Weight Gain

I've recently started working as a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) high school teacher, so my time has been divided between home and work. I feel so old these days--learning how to cook a quick meal in under 30 minutes and grading exams while watching Dexter. I feel that a show about blood spats and murder is appropriate while I read run-on sentences and misspellings.

Ever since I've started working, I've been a lot less cranky at home. I no longer pick fights with my husband over clorox and garbage cans. (It's a long story, you had to be there. I swear it seemed like a worthy cause at the time.) The problem with staying at home all day is twofold: boredom and excess weight gain. I must say, I was getting all too familiar with the cast of CSI NY. It got to the point where I would get angry if they repeated the same episode in the same day. Really? Like, you had to keep me hanging? I don't even like tv that much, except for my go to shows that I stream online (and I can assure you, CSI is not one of them). Anyway, my second point. Weight gain. Due to the unbearable heat tight, body-hugging clothes are just not an option. Breezy, free-flowing attire is lovely until one day you can't fit into your skinny jeans anymore... Initially, a month into your stay in Riyadh, you feel pleasantly plump and radiant (It's just sweat). Your newly acquired curves are endearing and the long, loose, BLACK abaya is undeniably flattering. Two months later and you're crying on your bed wondering how you managed to gain 5 kilos in so short of a time. I'll tell you why. Mayonnaise. Arabs love to slather mayonnaise on EVERYTHING. They hand out mayonnaise packets with everything you buy, even if it's just a bottle of coke. What ever happened to olive oil? Tahini sauce, ever heard of it? Another reason? Greasy, salty french fries (which Saudis dip in mayonnaise, of course). Third reason? Portion sizes. I noticed that a small meal is not even possible in fast food chains. 64 ounces of a soft drink is just not okay. Finally, Riyadh is just not built for walking. People walk slowly and leisurely...inside of malls.

Needless to say, I'm on a mayonnaise and french fry-free diet.

Eid & Something New

Happy Eid to fellow Muslims, and all blog readers alike. I kept trying to write a post about the difference between Eid celebrations in Riyadh, versus back home in the States with my family, but I was too home sick/nostalgic/emotional--whatever you want to call it--to make it past a single paragraph without exiting the screen, lingering hesitantly over the little box that would pop up each time asking me, "Are you sure you want to leave this page?" I think before I came here I was never really sure that I was ready to leave a familiar place and live in such a drastically different environment. I don't think that anyone can ever truly be sure of what lies ahead, but today I was thinking about how happy I am that I made the leap of faith and tried something new.

The holiday break is officially over and like everyone says, life here will get back to normal. I'm still trying to figure out what "normal" is, so stay tuned!

Food Overload & Religious Police

I don't particularly recommend eating a large vegetable stuffed crepe, plus a medium sized iced mocha with whipped cream and a scoop of strawberry cheesecake ice cream (in that order) so soon after iftar (the meal that breaks one's fast at sunset during the month of Ramadan). It does not bode well for the rest of the night. I think a gained a kilo tonight, which is fine because the metric system does not mean much to me quite yet.

My husband, sister-in-law, her kids and I spent the evening at Riyadh Gallery, a lovely mall located in the North side of the city. I saw the Committee of Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice (mutawaeen) for the first time today in the mall. From what I hear, they've relaxed significantly over the years and do not get involved quite as much with Riyadh residents. I think I even saw one of the older religious figures crack a smile;it was not that clear, but I think I saw a twinkle in his eye and a faint smirk buried beneath that thick beard of his. They are basically there to tell women to cover their hair and make sure there aren't any single men or teenage boys bothering (note:picking up) any of the women. Good thing I finally received my Iqama (residence card) in case I strike them as a troublesome figure with my face showing.

Jest aside, God knows best.

First Impressions

To say that Riyadh is hot is an understatement. On a good day, it is around 105 Degrees Fahrenheit AT NIGHT. Stepping out of the airport, I felt a blanket of hot air envelope me, as if I was standing behind a fume-emitting truck. With that being said, the air conditioning everywhere lets you momentarily forget you are basically living in a desert.

One thing I noted right away were the beautiful, modern buildings in the North of Riyadh. No two buildings are alike, each is built with what seems to be a very specific and well thought out design. The Kingdom and Faisaliyah Towers reign supreme among all the rest, complete with restaurants, office spaces and shopping malls (of course).

I've come at a lovely time during the holy month of Ramadan; life has been turned upside for Saudis and expats alike. The workload is less strenuous during the day and the city comes alive at night. I never thought I would be shopping at 1:30 am and I'm not going to lie, I love it.

More thoughts to come!

Fireflies and Firecrackers

Independence Day has come again-- fireworks sparkling, cracking and lighting the city sky from morning until night. The bbqs and lakefront celebrations have come to an end, just like my time in Chicago. I'll be traveling before I get to Riyadh at the beginning of August, so my days in the Windy City are numbered.

I've been busy packing memories in bags and breathing every inch of this beautiful, beautiful city I will always call home.

Here are some pictures I've taken:

My friends have been absolutely lovely these past few weeks. I wish so much these bonds can endure the distance; strengthen, not fade.

Opinions and Stereotypes of KSA

When I first decided to write about my experiences in Saudi Arabia, I imagined that my first post would occur AFTER I was settled into my new flat with my hubby. I imagined that surely the novelty of it all would instantly evoke dormant thoughts and new emotions. While still true, I now know that when you make that decision to move there is so much to ponder and record before the passport is even stamped.

The decision to move across the world with my husband was ultimately between the two of us. However, we both come from Arab backgrounds from the Levant, so naturally everyone we know—family and friends alike—had an opinion or two (or five) about the move. The most surprising and frustrating comments came from the Arab American women, who scoffed at me when I told them I’m going to live there. Ironically, it was the ‘hijabi’ Muslim Americans who spoke negatively about being forced to wear an ‘abaya (a long, loose fitting, black garment that conceals the figure of a woman) and the hijab/veil (a scarf that is wrapped around the head to conceal the hair and neck). That does not seem to bother me as much as it does them (though it does make packing my bags terribly difficult). They cannot, finally, understand how I can move so far away from my family.

Most of the women I referred to are friends of my mother and they immigrated to America (leaving behind their families) in the late 80s/ early 90s. They cannot understand why I would willingly go to a country that would strip me of my rights as a woman—those very rights they worked so hard to achieve in America. They now work when they never imagined they could back home, they take classes to advance their careers, they balance work and family and finally, they learned how to drive.

Everyone, of course, is entitled to his or her opinion. I respect and support that. The frustrating part, however, is almost all of the opinions thrown my way—whether I cared to hear them or not—were NOT based on a lived experience. None of those women actually stepped foot in Riyadh. Like most of the perceptions people in America have of KSA, their opinions are based on stereotypes.

It is just time for me to make my own move and write about life in Riyadh the way I experience it, other people’s opinions and stereotypes aside.