I love waking up knowing I have the whole day to myself. I enjoy working very much, but there is something about that light that creeps in and the comfort of my bed that feels different on the weekends. 

I miss autumn. I keep thinking about the colors, the brisk air, and the feel of the leaves under my boots. I miss when sweaters are worn out of necessity (and not because your coworkers insist on keeping the air conditioner at 73). Shadows cast on floors are just not the same without those bits of rust and aged gold sprinkled across the path. I want a hot apple cider and cinnamon burning away on the stove, I want the smell of chestnuts and the voice of my mother insisting I try them. I'm not fond of them, I just like what they represent: family sprawled across the coach, plucking them off the pan and peeling away at the chestnuts even though they are a little burnt and much too hot to eat. I don't have a picture of chestnuts, just leaves and flowers and creatures that live in deeper lands. 

Mecca is light and purity. There is such a strong remembrance of Allah and equality, the love for other human beings regardless of their ethnicity or race. Supplications recited in circles, the cool ceramic felt beneath your bare feet, the young flying above shoulders and the old whizzing past your ears. You can't even make sense of what you are saying in that moment, but in your heart of hearts you know that you've never felt anything more real. You push away the past and intentions are made for brand new days.

What to Wear in Saudi

School is out for the summer and I'm sorting through my closet and packing for a one month trip back to Chicago. I can't believe I've lived in Riyadh for a whole year! As I clean out and organize my things, I realized that I had no idea what to bring with me the first time around.

Things you will need as a teacher in Riyadh:

1.) Long skirts!!! Why I thought all of the dressy/business slacks would do me good, I have no idea. I rarely wore them and I regret bringing so many. Almost all schools/universities require teachers to wear long skirts. Forget about the crisp, white collared shirts. One or two should suffice, invest in casual tops or blouses. Depending on where you teach, most teachers will wear graphic tee-shirts with a cardigan or a bolero to cover their upper arms.

2.) Comfortable shoes!!! Why I left my danskos in the states, I'll never know. On my trip back to Chicago I will invest in some born flats, black danskos, and whatever else I can get my hands on! You will need something comfortable to bear the long hours spent on your feet. The comfortable shoes will come in handy maneuvering the large malls during Ramadan. Shopping is one of the few activities available for women here and it is a great excuse to shed some of the pounds you WILL gain here. Flip flops are okay, but no one really wears them out in public here.

3.) Leggings! I love wearing leggings and a tank top under my abaya. I get bored with my abayas quickly, so I don't like to spend too much money on them. The best fabrics in my opinion are forsan, crepe saloona and georgette. Saloona feels the softest and breathes the best. It lasts the longest and it almost has a dark, charcoal color to it. Check out Royal Mall for affordable abayas in Riyadh (180-250 Riyals is my usual price range). They will tighten, shorten, and add snap closures on the spot, free of cost.

4.) Compound clothes and party clothes. Inside the compound there are a lot of activities, like soccer and swimming so there are no limitations on what to wear. If you attend an all female gathering, almost anything is appropriate. The shinier, the better. (Although tights are usually worn under mini-skirts, I've noticed). Weddings are VERY formal, so fancy dresses are sought after. The second floor of Hayat Mall (King Abdel Aziz Road) is filled with affordable, fancy dresses. The price range depends, but the average price is around 600-800 Riyals.

5.) Warm clothes. Desert winters can be very cold, I don't care what anybody says. You will need at least a few sweaters to get you through December and January. A coat can come in handy, especially if you like sitting outside in the evening with friends.

Good luck and happy packing!

Saudi Weddings

I've been to a handful of weddings in Saudi and one thing is for sure: different regions dance to the beat of a (slightly) different drum. However, the similarities between a Najdi (Riyadh, Qassim) wedding and a Hijazi (Jeddah, Mecca, Medinah) wedding are abundant. The main ingredients are the same: a strict separation between men and women; the incredibly delayed arrival of the bride; the long length of the wedding; the SWEETS, coffee, tea and finger food; the magnificence of the banquet hall; the ill-fitting, painted on, bedazzled dresses; the overly white, garish makeup; and the band of female singers and drummers (tagagat) that belt out the same tunes. You get the idea.

All of these things are fine and I'm sure really fun for the Saudi women who attend. The banquet halls are really beautiful, the chocolate is really good and who doesn't love an excuse to dress up and get their hair done? After all, royal blue, swarovski detailed gowns are a nice to change to black, drab abayas. Saudi women are strong and confident enough to wear whatever they want (even if it doesn't really fit or match their body types :-/ ). Why not eat lavish food at 4 a.m.? It's the weekend! The tagagat are playing the beats they know and love, they are surrounded by their family and friends, and the night is young.

I get it. But I just can't get into it. I attended a wedding last night for a couple from a very religious, uptight and strict region called Al Qassim. From the moment I walked in I was strip- searched at the door. Walking into a Saudi wedding with a cell phone is like walking into an airport with a knife. I understand the great distrust of a 3 megapixel camera phone. I promise, I do. There are some immoral, distasteful people who would photograph and perhaps alter the photograph in a despicable way. With that being said, I don't appreciate the harsh manner in which it is confiscated from me. I guess I just don't like that all of the songs sound the same, and I don't like that the women seem to hold back while dancing (despite the lack of male presence). I don't like the idea that the bride comes in after midnight, seemingly missing most of the wedding. When she does come in, she doesn't seem happy.

The bride last night had such a sadness about her and I couldn't help but wonder why? Why was her sister crying (I'm sure they were tears of joy but they just didn't seem like it)? Why didn't her sister hold her train, why were the workers tending to her dress? Why wasn't she smiling? Was she happy? Didn't she want her new husband there? Didn't she want to dance with him at least once to a really cheesy, cringe-worthy love song? So many questions, so many feelings of uneasiness, of misunderstandings on my part. So many whys and how comes at the wedding, in this country.

God knows best.

Taking pictures of pictures and the sampling of hors d'oeuvres is how we live. When the waitress comes around, resist the tarts, eat the shrimp and devour the macarons. When did we get so old? Watching our weight and complaining of aches and searching the internet for sensible shoes. There is nothing sensible about these words.

Sometimes I feel a sudden sadness here and I'm never really able to explain why. Sometimes it's as silly as not being able to fit in my jeans, or the stores that close almost as soon as they open or the weather that reaches past 100 degrees Fahrenheit on an ordinary day. Currently it's most likely my toothache, that pesky pain that gnaws beneath my molars. I'm just so tired of the pain, the heat, the small gut hanging in front of me due to too much coffee and sweets.

This diet is making me cranky. Summer vacation, please hurry.

I've got so many thoughts bumping around in my head and suddenly I see this picture of this girl and she is wearing chinos with moccasins and an orange bag and all I keep thinking is I want her bangs. Bangs. Had them as a child, you know, the thick ones that hide your face and I just feel the urge to hide away these, float away and just not be seen. There are days when I wish I'd just throw on a burqa (does anyone really throw on a burqa?) because it would be much easier to hide and look at the world without exposure. I'm sure I've written about this before, unpublished in my journal (a nice leather one from Barnes and Noble, with a string that ties it shut, as if that could keep anyone from looking inside). But bangs, yes I remember that they don't suit me. No, no. My forehead is far too small, just like my patience in the morning. But that orange bag I want. For sure. It's not so much a bag as a satchel. I've just been so fond of satchels these days. Especially orange ones, like the sun when it's the hottest. Orange, like burnt saffron.

❝ Stay with me,
Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
I never know what you are thinking. Think. ❞

-from "The Wasteland" by T.S. Eliot

Fresh mint in my water keeps me yearning for more and the lemon makes it feel like spring. Actually, the Santa Rosa, otherwise known as green cherries, are only available in the spring, and my husband and I can't seem to get enough.

These upcoming weeks will be hectic for sure, so I need to take a moment to sit down, blog and enjoy the spring time goods.

Procrastination

I've often been told that I mentally check out when things just get too overwhelming. I tend to do that at work, especially since it's my first year teaching non-native speakers. I'll google obscure things at the most inappropriate times (usually when there are more pressing tasks to attend to: grading papers, exams, etc.). This usually results in unwarranted stress and panic as the deadline approaches. I wish I was different, but I'm not. I don't have my sister's ability to get things done quickly and efficiently (or my dad's persistence or my mother's drive, for that matter). I guess it is just easier to escape into this different world (seven different tabs, to be exact), while eating these:

green almonds.

William and Kate Plus Two-Billion

I'm waiting to watch the Royal Wedding live on Dubai One and I just wish I was back in Westminster Abby wearing taffeta or chiffon in one of those hats. It is so nice to celebrate love in the midst of uncertainty in the world.

Khobar

I took a short trip to the Eastern Province of Saudi--Khobar, Dammam, and Dharan and it was such a nice change. The sea alone is lovely and the humid air felt nice after months of dry Riyadh heat. We stayed in a nice, modern hotel in Khobar called Park Inn, which was a five minute drive away from the corniche.

The people there seemed to be more open and laid back. The men didn't always have a shmagh on their heads (the red checkered scarf), which is a big faux pas in Riyadh. It is seen as immodest in Riyadh (from what I'm told it's the equivalent of a Saudi woman not covering her face). I saw that piece of cloth as a metaphor for the general attitude of the men there (it was a school vacation, so there were many Riyadh residents in Khobar). The Riyadh boys wore theirs high on their heads, in a proud, uptight manner. The pattern of the scarf was intricate and busy. The Eastern boys wore it loosely around their shoulders, which symbolized their laid back, relaxed dispositions. The cloth was usually all white, the pattern modern and minimal.

A school bus filled with high school girls and a black sports car drifting between cars/ switching lanes in hopes of catching their attention. Finally, he sticks his hand out of the window with a large paper with his number written across it. Is that paper always stored in the glove compartment, waiting on stand by for a bus full of tweens or an SUV filled with hopeless romantics or something of the like? They giggled and stared. I just shook my head, I guess. This is what they do. We drove past palaces and a few girls called out, this one's mine! We took them bowling; energy drinks for the young and restless (sorry, I had to). Tomorrow is a new day.

Desert dryness and clouds of dust

The air is becoming drier and the dust grows thicker and I haven't been feeling like myself these days. Spring is a time of renewal and fresh blooms, but being in Riyadh has dried up the artistic spirit that was once thriving inside of me. There are no plays to attend, no poetry slams that push boundaries and no art galleries that publish human bodies and faces that fill something inside of you. I miss looking at photographs, I miss taking pictures of people and places without causing someone great offense or without someone thinking I have motives besides the sheer beauty of it all. I miss walking in the street with my camera around my neck. I miss walking. I miss fashion magazines and editorials without black leggings edited into the picture. I miss male models who wear cardigans and carry satchels while standing confidently in the shot, their arms gently wrapped around a woman who isn't very pretty but whose eyebrows and hair is something you can't stop gazing at. I miss minimalism. Clean cut lines and white sheets and flowers everywhere. No rhinestones, no chandeliers, and certainly no gold. I miss the romanticism of the spring, the ruffles in shirts, the grazing skirts, the mild sun hiding behind the clouds. In Riyadh there are no clouds, just sun and dust and a dryness that leaves you thirsty for more.

Personal Space

If you take any anthropology class one of the first things they'll teach you is how much Americans enjoy personal space and how little Arabs are aware of such a concept. If you take a train in Chicago it is almost guaranteed that each person with take up at least two seats (one for them and one for their bags). In America it is general knowledge that there needs to be a safe distance between two people engaged in a conversation. If you get in someone's face you are viewed as a big, creepy weirdo. In the Arab world, said distance is unheard of. Not only will they stand and talk to you at an uncomfortable nearness, but they will unabashedly ask you why you haven't plucked your eyebrows that day and freely suggest some home made cream that would remedy your enlarged pores. Do you see my point? As an Arab-American I've grudgingly succumbed to the multiple cheek kisses but after moving to Saudi, I've recently realized how much I refuse to relinquish my cherished personal space.

Caged Birds

Today I taught Maya Angelou's poem, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," which moved a lot of my seniors. The poem is literally about two birds who lead incredibly different lives. One bird soars the sky from morning until dusk, dipping in and sipping from natural springs. The other bird sits in a cage filled with rage with tied legs and wings that are clipped. While the first bird dreams about fresh air and big, fat worms, the other bird sings and dreams about freedom. The imprisoned bird longs for the unknown, a life beyond the cage.

While my students sympathized with the caged bird, few could imagine injustice. Metaphorically speaking---they could not fully grasp that there are people in the world who do not "own the sky" as the free bird does. I don't blame them, I suppose. In their short lives my students have soared academically, they have dipped their feathers in oceans across the world and have tasted the most expensive worms this world has to offer. With that being said, they are still young birds, trapped in grand palaces, caged in privilege.

Today we got the day off from school because of a terrible sand storm that has made its way into Riyadh. Last Saturday we got the day off in honor of a kind and generous King. Next week I'm hoping for some heavy rain (fingers crossed!).

I spent my morning reading some much need Pablo Neruda while drinking coffee and nibbling on some biscuits. Sigh. Why did I want to work again? Anyway...Neruda, a Chilean poet, always wrote in green ink because he believed that it was a color of hope. Today I'm typing with shades of green because I'm filled with all sorts of hope these days.

we men,

touch the water,

struggling

and hoping,

we touch the sea,

hoping.

And the waves tell the firm coast,

"Everything will be fulfilled."

-excerpt from "Ode to Hope" by Pablo Neruda.

20-something

Someone once told me that if you want to survive the loneliness in Saudi, you need to make friends your own age. No matter how nice my in-laws are, I still yearned for the company of a 20 something-newly married-no string of kids behind him/her-Arab/Western couple. My Saudi neighbor is such a doll, but going shopping with her ultimately leads to the Baby Gap. Don't get me wrong, I love staring at baby clothes as much as the next lady, but my intrigue lasts for a maximum of ten minutes before I start eyeing Zara across the mall. When I go shopping with my 30 something sister-in-law, her kids have to throw a fit in the middle of H&M, which leaves me embarrassed and her on the verge of tears.

After I started working, I met a lot of wonderful ladies, but they were either:

a.) much older with kids in high school/ college OR

b.) pregnant or with kids under the age of 4

Recently, a newcomer joined our staff to my delight. She was just what I was searching for: 20 something, newly married (no kids), new to Riyadh, an Arab who studied in Canada with a husband with a strong penchant for modern furniture (JUST LIKE MY HUSBAND). She invited us over last night in an effort to get our husbands to become best friends, and I think it went well!

I truly believe God brings certain people in our lives at just the right time. Alhamdulilah.