Lunch Bunch

A coworker invited me over for lunch at her house. She picked me up at 12pm, but only lives about 5 minutes drive away. We first went for a tour around town, and she showed me her favorite shops, gave me a tour of her alma mater, and posed for a picture with me in a photo studio.

We returned home and lounged in the salon. Reception rooms are lined with these foam couches. Guests recline comfortably here [...why do "we" use chairs! I much prefer this style, maybe especailly because my legs are too short for most chairs]. I briefly met the father/husband, who proclaimed I was welcome with his family - making me feel very welcome and happy.

To reenergize us, we were served mango nectar (juice) and chocolate bonbons. Shortly afterward, it was tea-time, involving a portable gas burner to brew the 'red' tea, a tea pot and a metal jug. In the picture you can see me attempting to froth the tea. They do this by pouring the hot tea back and forth between the teapot and the jug, creating foam that they pour into the small glass tas cups. You know you've done it well when you can turn the cup unpside down and no foam comes out of the cup. I failed miserably - but they enjoyed a good laugh and delighted in taking photos of my attempts!

After some time to chat and laugh, lunch was served. From the picture, you can see we had lamb couscous, fried chicken, salad and potato squares.

Through travels, I've learned that endurance is the game: eat long and slow. This way you can continue to eat long enough to satisfy your host, without actually gorging yourself. Here, however, I ran into a new problem. My hostess (the mother) was not only concerned with endurance, but also with speed and power (gusto). I couldn't eat fast enough for her!! If I took a bite of one dish, that meant I was neglecting another! And my co-eaters kept pushing the meat, olives and vegetables over infront of me - so my "pile" never diminshed.

This thoroughly wore me out and my ever-sensitive hostesses ordered me over to the other side of the room to take a nap - providing me with pillow and blanket. I semi-rested, all the while meeting more women who came and went, and watching women dance and gossip together. They do this daily - taking turns to host the group. One very outgoing women insisted I go to see her house. So we made the expedition, and drank juice and ate chocolates. Next time it's her turn to have me and Jared over. Though he'll be in a different room with the man of the house.

...a long, but wonderful day with new friends. I'll be able to visit them as often as I'm able to - which won't be often enough in their minds!

The Language of Music

It never fails. Musicians always find each other, no matter what country or culture they live in! But this is particularly true in this country, where music has not always been honored as something worthy of effort – in fact, for some time music was outlawed. Today musicians support each other and work together to master their instruments.

Within the second week of my teaching, I met a young guitar teacher at our school. He has become a good friend and has literally driven me around the capital dozens of times in the last weeks showing me good places to eat, introducing me to the other musicians, commenting on his country’s history, teaching me some language…and taking me to local festivities.

The country has just observed a very important holiday – the birthday of their prophet. Two musician friends took me out for the day to eat traditional food with the family, listen to recitations of oral histories, and participate in the street music that parades through the oldest part of the city. What an honor! These two video clips are from the street music parades. You will see that the people here are very welcoming…and inclusive! [video coming shortly...I'm having technical difficulties...]

The Stuff Celebrations are Made Of

One of my coworkers came over to show me how to make the traditional celebration food - made primarily after the birth of a baby. It's four, water and sugar boiled into a thick paste. Once it's the right consistency - which requires a lot of effort (see picture), you pour melted butter and honey over the top. It is very sticky, very sweet, and very oily. You pinch it off with your fingers and slurp it down. I chose the butter/honey route, instead of the other alternative: oil and sugar water. Not my favorite local food, but I've also had much worse in other parts of the world.

Hairy Situation

American women have long been known to snub their noses at the grooming tendencies of women who don’t shave their legs or armpits. Well, what goes around comes around…

I was listening to a friend discuss cultural changes here whereby unmarried girls are now permitted to attend to grooming practices that used to be reserved for married women. Here, my friend made an example out of the removal of arm hair – forearm hair – and exclaimed, “Well, it’s only hygienic!”

So, American women are one-uped by Arab women here who remove all bodily hair as a part of their hygienic (and cosmetic) endeavors.

As for me, it’s just now getting to be uncomfortably warm some days. All my shirts come to at least below the elbow. That leaves me about four inches of unshorn skin on each arm. However, that doesn’t account for all-women get-togethers and parties where it’s common to wear sleeveless dresses. Hmmmm…I’m still chewing this over. But, before I go for a body wax, I think I’ll get a wider sampling of my friends’ opinions!

Culture Shock?

It made me smile when my mom said in her thick southern drawl, “you seem to be real comfortable.” Well, I’m glad it seems so. We are working to make this home. This kind of move can make loved ones ‘back home’ feel as though we dropped off the face of the earth. Be assured we’re in a real-life place where we live and work and have our being just the same as you (relatively speaking).

Of course, there are things that aren’t quite so comfortable…but why dwell on those?

Well, I will share one perspective: the one mantra I keep telling Jared is, “ALL THAT GLITTERS ISN’T GOLD.” Here where there is a new rush to 'modernize,' some things can get a little lost in the shuffle. For example, We have a “Semsong” CD player someone left for us. It is a cheaply made knock-off from Asia. While the volume knob won’t work and it won’t take any kind of programming, the display flashes wildely with dancing figures, expanding hearts and sparkling stars. For now it’s at least somewhat amusing to find the “pretty” elements of life that perhaps don’t function optimally. Facades are called ‘facades’ for a reason.

You anthropologists may guess we’re still in the “honeymoon” stage of culture shock. I don’t know; it’s kind of hard to tell. Honestly, I wondered if we’d have any honeymoon at all, considering some of the varied and interesting travel experiences we’ve had. But I see now that every place holds its own adventures and discoveries. I do think, maybe naively so, that our culture shock journey is more tempered by our experience and study. I can certainly see more dramatic mood-swings in the other new teachers we came in with. Four out of the six of us newbies won’t stay to finish their contracts, and one has already resigned (we only got here at the end of January!).

Yes, the turnover rate is very high, I’m discovering. Of the approximate 40 expats on staff, around 20 are leaving at the end of this year. Culture stress is one factor; and other is the “starting a new school from scratch stress” – and in a foreign culture.

In truth, at this point it seems that our adaptation to the international school arena has been more stressful than local cultural issues. When such a small community works together, lives together and socializes together….well, you can guess the kind of dynamics that can produce.

So, I’m sure there’s far more culture stress ahead of us. For now, we’re happy to be together, enjoying this new culture, muttering choice words under our breath at times, and taking discomforts with a grain of salt.

Sweet Reunion

It’s been 3 weeks since Jared arrived – and we took a hiatus from blogging! Partly we’ve taken every minute to enjoy being together and catch up; and partly we’ve been overrun at school.

By now you know that Jared arrived safe and well. The principal and I met Jared at the airport – he had no problems at all! Unbelievably, his entry was even easier than mine. While they quizzed me on my working status and the name and location of the school, they asked him no questions. While they examined my hand-luggage, Jared sailed through the x-ray line - even though his bag beeped along with everyone else's.

It has been fun to introduce Jared to our new home. On the ride back from the airport we even saw a pickup truck with three camels sitting in the back – probably on the way to the butchers!

The other teachers were almost as happy as me to welcome Jared. There are no substitute teachers here, so the other staff were covering his classes and taking combined classes to cover his schedule. The Year 11’s are weeks away from taking their huge British Exam in music; they have been panicked about this and are finally feeling more settled with Jared’s guidance. One said they’ve learned more from Jared in 2 days than in the past 2 years.

So, over the next days I’ll back-post some experiences from the last month (probably a blogging faux pas, but oh well)…

Rooftop Rendezvous

View from Our Roof

Over the past month I have occasionally been sitting on my balcony when girls on a neighboring rooftop have waved at me. We exchange waves and smiles – and long stares as we wonder about each other. Last week as Jared and I sat out, a number of girls began to wave to me. This time, they shouted, “come!” Sure enough, as we deciphered from their animated gestures, they intended me to come and visit them. Jared escorted me “around the block” since the high walls around all the houses prevented a direct route of a couple hundred feet. As I approached their gate, I heard giggles and it opened. I was shown into the house, up the first flight of stairs, and into the guest salon. I sat on low sofas with women in their 40s, 20s, teens and early years; mothers and daughters. This group morphed over the hour I spent there, as women from the house next-door heard of my visit and came to meet me.

Our language was very limited between their small amounts of English and my very small amount of Arabic. But, we taught each other some new words and they treated me to a couple cups of sweet tea, several biscuits (cookies) and a thorough spraying of perfume.

I texted Jared to come and retrieve me, and excused myself as it was getting to be time to prepare dinner (I had to guess about my cues to leave!). They were quite curious to hear what I would make, and when I said, “couscous” (as I hoped to impress them), they laughed, saying that that is only for lunch (their main meal). Supper should consist of lighter foods, like sandwiches and salads. Oh well.

I was very glad for my first opportunity to visit inside a local home and to meet some neighbors. Here, I can’t just make friends by bumping into women at the local shops or market. Men are the shopkeepers and many men do all the shopping for their families. The women’s world is quite private and protected, so to be invited in was a wonderful event. Most of my friends at school are women who are younger than I am, and unmarried. My new neighbor friends show me a different side to life.

They heartily asked me to come back and visit again. They're curious about my life and seem glad for the entertainment I provide - the novelty of a "strange-r" living next-door! One girl took my phone number, and she affectionately gives me “missed calls” all day (and night!) long.

[“Missed calls” are very common – friends call your cell phone and let it ring once, and then hang up. No one pays for the call and it’s a way to say hello. I get such calls from 7am to 11pm, sometimes 10 times a day!]

2 Weddings and a Faux Pas

Strangely enough, Jared and I went to our first weddings: same night, but two different couples, and two very different experiences.

Jared dressed up in his (fake) Armani suit and went with other male teachers to celebrate the wedding of the local accountant at our school. This was the signing ceremony. It took place in a large hall and involved the fathers and grandfathers of the bride and groom signing marriage documents. Guests sat in the “audience” and watched the ceremony. Afterward, they greeted the groom with well-wished and embraces. Their party-gifts were ornate boxes that contained baklava, and a bead-flower boquet with chocolates inside. This part of the marriage took about one hour, and the guys were back home within two hours!

Catherine dressed up in an evening dress, covered by a long coat for travel to the wedding hall to celebrate the marriage of the daughter of the teacher’s favorite taxi driver.

Just inside the banquet hall, a curtain separated the women’s party from the outside world. Once passing this barrier, fully-covered women disrobed to reveal exquisite and revealing gowns, kilos of gold jewelry, and elaborate makeup. A woman at our table spent over one thousand pounds on her dress during a trip to London; and she had obviously worn it many times. Yet there was a wide range of dresses since those women who have never left the city have more limited options (not to mention more limited incomes).

It was quite stirring to see the homogenizing effects of black robes and veils slip away as the women took off the garments. Their hair is long, dark and thick. Their make up was colorful and thick around their eyes, and the whole face was painted with white foundation to make the skin appear as light as possible. Many of the women were more “white” than I am!

As the bride drew near the hall, a murmur went through the room and in a wave women began to recover themselves with their scarves. This was necessary since the bride was escorted by her brother – the only male allowed to venture into the room (the DJ’s and staff were all female). The brother guided her up to the elaborate wedding chair at the head of the hall, all the while preceeded by dry ice smoke and woodchips painted and scented to replicate rose petals – with an Arabized version of “The Wedding March” playing. She wore a "western-style" wedding dress, with her hair curled up on her head and studded with fake diamonds superglued to her hair for some sparkle. Post haste the brother retreated, and skin and hair reemerged among guests.

After the traditional almond cookies and almond milk drink; and after sweet coffee and cream cake, we ate a dinner of traditional foods – excellent! The bride sat prettily and watched us eat. We were entertained by women who took turns tying their scarves around their hips and posteriors, and shaking them for all they’re worth. Even the six year old cousins know how to move!

Our party-animal troupe of teachers cut out after dinner; it was already 11:30 on a Tuesday night and our staff briefing is at 7:20am each morning. I was disappointed to miss wedding cake and group dancing where many women play drums (so I’ve heard).

And to the faux pas…Before the wedding a well-meaning informant told me to bring my camera and take lots of pictures – as this is totally fine. So, I did take some pictures, only to find out later from the bride’s teenage cousin that pictures were not appropriate at this wedding. This family is very conservative, and taking photos risks men seeing pictures of the women indecently clad. Needless to say, I felt terrible that I breached such a sensitive area of respect and dignity. The first of, no doubt, many mistakes to come (although this can’t even have been my first real mistake, as I probably don’t even yet know what mistakes I’m making, or their seriousness). So, don’t look for any photos from the wedding here!