Random stuff from the week

I remember now one of the reasons I stopped blogging. There are so many events here that can't be talked about. Not on an open forum, anyhow. Too many identities that should never be written about. Like how we have to take photos here in the school: the backs of heads or hands. No faces. And so the most interesting and intimate information about what I learn about from the various perspectives of the various Arabic women I work with are, for the most part, all off limits to the "public eye."

But here is a little bit about what happened this week. Girls (students) have been coming to my room to look through the newspaper and magazine library that I have. They're collecting information about healthy lifestyles for their English/ICT project. I've had several conversations with many of them. Three in particular are interested in what an "American perspective" on Arab people is "really" like. They asked if I thought everybody was a terrorist. I said, "absolutely not." Then they asked if I knew any Arab people in the States. Well, no, I didn't. How was that possible? I'm not sure.

I get bottled water delivered to the house. Every Tuesday the water truck comes, and if I have bottles to exchange, I put them outside with the coupons attached. This week I needed another coupon book. So I put my 3 bottles outside and attached an envelope to it, which contained 100 dirhams and a request for another booklet. It sat outside on the stoop for 10 hours, and when I got home later that night, I found full bottles, but no coupon book. I thought it was strange, and I decided to let it be for a day or two. If I had no word, I'd call the company and tell them that the delivery people had taken my money but not given me the coupons. But the very next day when I got home from work, sure enough, there was the water guy waiting for me. He apologized profusely about forgetting my coupons. I knew he hadn't taken the money. People here are drive by such a respect for honesty when it comes to stealing. They just don't take what doesn't belong to them.

I went to my horseback riding lesson on Monday. Junior came with me since he was home. It's the most peaceful, beautiful environment, in my opinion, to be outside after the sun has set, in a place filled with horses and people who love them. The past few weeks I've been on a crazy horse. Literally, she's crazy. A former racehorse that has thrown everybody off. When I got there, our instructor wanted to see what the guy in my class could do with her. I had no problem with it, even though I felt like I was making some progress with her. I got a "calmer" horse. And on my second time asking for a canter, I got bucked off. Yep, had to do an emergency dismount when I found myself on her neck ahead of the saddle! She even broke the fence (top rail!) in her kick that threw me off. Of course I got back on. And then learned that the guy on my horse from last week also got thrown off before I got to the arena. By the end of it, I decided against jumping and just took it easy. I said I was too old (the guy and girl I ride with are both 17/18). Really, I was just fed up. But I'll get that same horse again next week, and I'll hope it's better! And the next night I enjoyed a civilized and less physical game of mahjong.

I saw a movie with my friend Sonya last Saturday. "The Furious Force of Rhymes" It's a documentary about the global hip-hop movement and the way different people have used it to find their voice and express their concerns (racism, classism, neo-colonialism, the fall of communism, terrorism/being seen as terrorists). It was fabulous. It played on the last day of the Abu Dhabi Film Festival.

And the Ferari Theme Park opened 3 days ago. It has, of course, the world's fastest roller coaster. The Formula 1 race is next weekend, so the city is full of activity. There are nightly movies outside on the beach, 2 concerts every night (also on the beach), art exhibits,...and of course, all the stuff going on at Yas Island, the island with the theme park and race track.

And last but not least, Junior and I went in search of a pumpkin yesterday. It looked more like a butternut squash, but we found some at the Fruit and Vegetable market. We spent 3 dollars on it, and Junior did all of the carving. Per usual, I toasted the seeds. And per usual, I was the only one who ate them!

For a moment

The strangest things touch us sometimes in the most unexpected ways. And then we find ourselves doing something with passion or excitement or sadness or reflection--and it was never even on the radar when we woke up and thought about our day.

I woke up this morning with the intention to research what it will take to get my teaching certification for French. I pulled out all my transcripts last night and found myself paging through the binder that has contained my life's most important documents since I've lived outside of the USA. For five and a half years now, that blue binder (American size, which the A4 documents from every other part of the world stick out of the top of, but I never bothered to buy a larger binder) has contained my passport, my birth certificate (yes, original), my diplomas (yes, originals), my university transcripts (now from 6 different schools), my carte de séjours, my residence permits, my work visas, my health insurance documents, my letters of recommendation, my French language exam certificates, copies of all credit cards, drivers' licenses, library cards, student IDs, apartment lease agreements, utility bills (needed for every transaction in France), police background checks, and even my fingerprints and contact lense perscriptions. It's all there. I felt emotional and strange paging through those documents last night, and so I left them to this morning. Because, as I prepare for another step forward, I have to reorganize all of the above, so that I can fit them into a nice picture that sums up my "experience" abroad, over the past (nearly) 6 years.

But then I read an op-ed piece in the New York Times. A woman who wrote about being 50-something and having long hair. And how she's tired of people finding myriad reasons to criticize her for her decision NOT to cut her hair, as most middle-aged American women do. And she said that in Europe the same wouldn't be true. And she said that maybe she should move to Paris. Which, of course, got me thinking of Paris. Middle-aged women with long hair and Paris got me thinking about Joni Mitchell. And her song, "California." About leaving Paris, where it's "old and gray and settled in its ways" and going home to California. And when I got to the end of the opinion piece, I saw that this woman writer has a blog, called SlowLoveLife.com (yes, check it out), which I went to. Instead of removing herself from life's chaos through meditation or going to an ashram, she has opened herself to moving through life more slowly, taking in all that is beautiful and interesting and worth appreciating. And violà. I was inspired to return to my blog. And when I did, I found that I was 14 months past my last post.

I like my last post (Aug. 29th? 2009). My first impressions of life in the Gulf. How far my impressions have come since then. I feel a little sad that I haven't written about the between-time. But that's okay. I was living life and keeping up and enjoying myself. But I do sense that something is missing...and that's the creative side of me that loves to write, reflect, write. So this morning, I decided to write instead of research. My binder and all its contents are still spread out all over the couch and coffee table in front of me. A reminder of what's next. But I'm happy to have stopped for a moment and did something that I truly appreciate.