Din din Saudi style

 "We had to learn how to bend, without the world caving in. I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not, and who I am."

-Jason Mraz

We had the best dinner at Badr's parents' house tonight! It was very traditional, and I loved it!
First of all, they called it dinner...and it was at 9 pm and tomorrow everyone has work and school! Hard getting adjusted to the time and everything here.

The menu was as follows:
Gigantic flat bread, warm and fresh out of the oven
Bean dip, kinda like what you'd eat in a Mexican restaurant, like refried beans!
This bread, cheese, green stuff quesadilla type food (that is seriously my BEST description)
"Sour cheese", bright white and cut into little squares
Sour cream for dipping
And, COKE, obviously

You get the bread and rip it and dip it in the beans. Very simple, very delicious. We were sitting on the floor and watching "Arabs Got Talent." It was a jewel of an evening.
Forgot to mention that before dinner, Nada, Maryam, Nouf and I were playing "B.S." Guess who taught them that game?? We had tons of fun!

Bank Time

"We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."

- Dr. Seuss

            My adult job pays me the big bucks, so I had to open up an account at the bank. This isn’t that easy of a task.

            First of all, I can’t drive so my dear husband had to drive me to the bank. Remember that banks are usually only open 8-5, so he had to take off work. We went to pick up his sister, Nada, because I can’t really take care of certain tasks by myself. We head to the “Women Only” bank.

            After arriving at the destination, Nada guides me to this door on the side that seemed like an employees only door. We walk into the tiny room and look at a woman security guard and she gives us the “all clear” to open the next door and enter the VIP women only bank. All the women were unveiled and dressed normally; it felt kind of like being in a secret club. No windows, just full of secrets.

            Everything else went smoothly: I give them my Saudi residence card, they ask questions I don’t know so we call Badr, and so forth. I pretty much just sat there and signed a few papers. Nada did all the talking and the answering of questions. I could have been signing my kidney away for all I knew, but I just rolled with it.

            After I closed the deal on my own Saudi bank account, we invited Nada over and I made chocolate chip pancakes. Nada’s first time to eat pancakes with chocolate chips! It was a real hit. I also discovered that sweetened condensed milk plus normal milk is divine in coffee. Give that a try if you are feeling sassy.

Saudi Survival Guide

·       "She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails."

o   Elizabeth Edwards

            I realized that I have been in Saudi for more than 2 months! I don’t know everything certainly, but I have learned a lot. You learn something new everyday. Here are a few things I have come up with so far:

1.     When you go outside, wear sunglasses! The sun is a flaming ball of unforgiving lava. It will blast your eyeballs with blinding brightness instantly.

2.     If you are a woman, do not look at a man in public. It is inappropriate. Avoid eye contact at all costs; ignore those suckers! Also, don’t talk to men you don’t know. For example, the guard for our apartment complex; I don’t talk to him.

3.     When in public, use your inside voice. Saudis are quiet people. You do not want to draw attention to yourself. Talk very quietly in public.

4.     Do not dance in the car when you hear a great song. Someone might think you are a floozy. (This one is difficult for me)

5.     DO NOT take pictures with your phone in an all-girls place, like a hair salon. This is very threatening to women, who do not want their picture taken.

6.     When you have guests, have plenty of food. Serve a snack and coffee when they come in. Serve dinner. Then serve desert and tea. This is a Saudi thing. We eat a lot here.

7.     If you are a woman with a driver (that’s me!), you do not sit in the front seat with him. Awkwardly sit in the back and do not talk to him. It feels comfortable after you’ve had practice.

8.     Dust storms are real. When there is a dust warning, shut the fans. We have these fans that are constantly running, connecting to the outside, to circulate air. Turn off the fan and shut the door so dust doesn’t get everywhere.

9.     Get used to washing dishes. Dishwashers are not in a lot of apartments. You’ll become a dishwashing machine.

10. No public affection. That’s obvious, but once when Badr was taking me to work, I said goodbye and leaned in to kiss him…then I remembered where I was. It brought some laughter.

Still working on this guide. Still learning. Still getting laughed at. Still getting stared at. And still moving forward.

Salon Time

           "I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self-respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her and that is the beginning of everything." -F. Scott Fitzgerald

           What a challenging day; let me say that I am glad its over. I finally gave in decided to get my highlights redone because they had probably grown out 2 inches at least. Since not many people here have natural blonde hair (or even fake blonde hair), I was putting it off because I was nervous, it would be expensive, and kind of a hassle. After telling my sister-in-laws about it, they set up a time.

            After work today my sister Nada picked me up and the driver dropped us off at the salon. I went inside and it was amazing. The walls and ceiling were gold with all sorts of designs and textures and patterns. I tried to take a picture of the ceiling, then Nada tried after me and promptly got in trouble by the manager. Obviously, salons here are all girls, and no one wants their picture taken by a stranger with no veil on. Hints the no camera rule.

            Anyways, we walked in and talked to one of the hair stylists. She asked to see my hair. Once I pulled off my veil, I could feel all the eyes in the room turn to me. Then the lady revealed that blonde color ran out.

            So we went to the next one. Same drill. Took off veil. Eyes on me. Blonde color ran out. (I couldn’t tell if so many people wanted it and that’s why it was gone or if it was not used much and it happened to run out) Nada made me think it was the first one.

            By the time we got to the 3^rd salon, I felt discouraged. This one had a lot of women in it too, so I slightly dreaded taking off my veil. The hairdresser came over to the front. I took off my veil and all eyes were on me. We were kind of making a scene honestly. Nada is translating, the cashier calls over the hair dresser, I take my hair out of the braid, they are all looking at me and talking loudly about my blonde hair. Finally, I was pleased to hear that she could do it. I paid the amount and sat down, hoping to disappear.

            Nada got her eyebrows done first. Apparently, people here get their eyebrow area colored however they want. The actual eyebrow hair is no concern. It is a little bit like henna, just stains the skin in the size and shape of the eyebrow you want.

            My turn. And I had hoped that Nada had put me and my Moroccan hairdresser on the same page. I showed her the ends of my hair. We established that she would make my roots the same. I just have simple light blonde highlights over my dark blonde hair, so I though it would be easy.

            To my horror, the woman started painting all my roots with bleach. ALL. Even the lower section, which has no color on it! My hairdresser in the States just picks out the smallest strands, paints them, and puts them in foil!!

            So I freaked out for a while and thought, oh well, can’t stop her now. I was shoved off to the side for 30 minutes while it sat. The strength of the color was a concern to me. It was burning my skin and my eyes. I can’t imagine how much is in my blood stream at the moment.

            After what seemed like forever, I had my hair washed out by a different woman. Then she started drying it. Upon looking in the mirror, I realized my hair looked awful. It wasn’t the right color at all. Didn’t match. I told Nada and she told the lady. She assure me that she would darken it a little; so I relaxed slightly.

This is when hair loss became my concern. The woman who was drying my hair was pulling and brushing so hard I wanted to cry. I don’t have much hair on my head to lose! It isn’t thick! She was also burning my head with the hair dryer.            

Relief was upon me when that was over. Now it was time to wait. Some girl had an appointment and she went ahead of us (Nada led me to believe that no one makes appointments). By then I was starving because I went to work at 11:30 and only ate a small breakfast before. Got out at 4 and went straight to the salon! And it was taking forever.

            Once it was my time again, they put a cap on my head. You know, the kind that they pull hair through for minimal highlights. Except for this cap wasn’t disposable, they re-use it! It was seriously almost exactly like a bouncey ball cut in half. It was stretchy, thick, and rubbery. So she shoved that on my head and started roughly pulling all my hair through. This never feels pleasant, but this lady was really aggressive.

            So she starts painting my head again, with what I think is dye (not bleach). Well, I know the smell of bleach and it was bleach. I thought, “Oh good, she is bleaching the same hair all over again on the same day; hope it doesn’t fall out.” After I basically panicked all over again inside myself, she wrapped it all up with foil and gave us more time to wait. At this point, we had been there 3 hours. I was really sick of it.

            Time to rinse. She yanks the cap off my head and washes it. Then she tells me that she is now going to dye it darker. “Oh good, a third batch of chemicals to kill my hair a little more, good thinking lady.”

            So I sat and waited for that to soak in. Another wash. At this point I just wanted to sprint out of there. But my hair was so tangley and wet that I couldn’t.

While she was brushing my hair, she told Nada that people had been talking about my hair color and asking if she had colored it like that (I want to be clear, that was my natural color. She did not make it look good). That explained all the stares I was getting.

My torment continued as she proceeded to brush my hair more aggressively than the first lady. She actually took the brush and swung it in downward motions, catching my hair and yanking out the knots. It hurt so bad. I saw her find some really small knots and with her own hands rip it off. “That is my hair you idiot! Oh yeah, and I actually have sensation on my scalp so that hurts!”            

            After what seemed like an entire day in the salon, she was done brushing and drying me hair. I looked in the mirror. “Oh good, you did gray highlights. That is what I wanted.” Then she pulled this “Oh when you wash it twice the color will be blonde. It has to be that color now or it would be orange.” (she said that in Arabic). I’ll believe it after 2 washes.

            I basically paid this woman to: rip out my hair, color it 3 different times, burn my scalp with a hair dryer, and waste 4 hours of my life (yes, we were there from 5- 9 pm; not joking).

            Conclusion: I wasn’t a hippie before, but I am now on the hair topic. I am going all-natural. My head is mad at me for good reason, and basically in horrible condition. I swear she poked holes in my scalp. It burned in specific pinpoint areas when she applied the color. I will fix my hair to its former glory with home remedies. And in December, God willing, my awesome hair stylist will color it the natural color and I hope I can have all this behind me. 

Best weekend

"Freedom is found when we let go of who we’re supposed to be and embrace who we really are."

            The weekend started for Badr and I Thursday night at 9:15 p.m. In Saudi, the weekend is Friday and Saturday. I work at a clinic, and since a lot of Saudis don’t want to get out in the heat of the day, clinics stay open much later. Ours closes at 9. Anyways…

            I jumped in the car and knew the weekend would be amazing because we went straight to Burger King. Now, in the States, I don’t like BK. But for some reason, here I crave it like a pregnant woman! And I’m definitely not pregnant, so I guess I crave it like a fast food addict. We sat on our couch and watched a movie.

            After the movie, I started painting and Badr fell asleep on the couch. Once I was really into it, the power went out. And with no air conditioner, you pretty much want to die. We went to bed and it came back on at 2 a.m.

            Friday, we slept in. I woke up at 10:30 and painted more. Badr woke up later and I made crappy French toast for breakfast (my first try). Went to the grocery store and got groceries for dinner. Got home, cleaned the house, cleaned ourselves, prepared dinner, burned our Saudi incense and waited for our friends to come over.

We had a double date with our married friends! They came in and I got to use my Saudi coffee pot and cups and pretty silver tray. Then Hala helped me finish up with the food while the guys got hummus. We had pizza, twice-baked potatoes, and bell peppers with incredible hummus. Not just incredible, scrumtrilescent. And of course, Coke. Kind of a weird combo, but it worked.

            For dessert we had Hala’s chocolate and peanut butter cookies with Baskin Robins ice cream. Just when I thought life couldn’t get better, BOOM, we put in 21 Jump Street and I laughed the whole time. I hope they liked it; I was so busy laughing I didn’t pay attention!

After they left, Badr filmed me with my video camera doing CRIBS, Saudi edition of our apartment. We stayed up late, watched tv, and went to bed.

            I work Saturdays, sadly, so Bo drove me to work at 12. I was cranky when I got there! But then after there was absolutely nothing for me to do, I went back to my Philippino custodian buds and we sat in their room eating Cheetos and looking at my wedding pictures. They were very interested. It cheered me up.

Once all the patients and physical therapists left, I took my work veil off and a bunch of the girls at work told me I look like Barbie. They love my blonde hair! It was pretty funny.

I left work and got picked up by the driver and Badr’s 3 sisters. We went to the Kingdom Tower! It was awesome. There is a huge mall on the inside. I got to see expensive stores I’ve never been in like Louis Vuitton, Tiffany’s, and a fancy shoe store that sold Christian Louboutins.

Then we hit up Starbucks. After walking around and looking at reasonably priced clothes (not like before), we went up in the Kingdom Tower look out area. It is 99 stories up! Wow, the city of Riyadh is very compact and reaches forever. We crawled under the rail and stuck our heads down against the glass. The view makes you want to puke. It is so high up.

Once we got down, we went to the All-Girls level of the mall. This is where Saudi girls can take off their veils and relax. I took mine off immediately and got a decent amount of stares. “Oh well,” I thought, “my head and hair are free!” We got dinner reservations at some cool spot and shopped around close by waiting for our table.

I spotted Claire’s and had to go in. Found some shades but right when I wanted to buy them, the phone rang and our table was ready. We got a sweet circle booth and ordered pizza, pasta, a sandwich, and fries and split it all 4 ways. Happiness in my tummy.

Then the driver was ready to pick us up; I hadn’t bought the sunglasses yet! We went to Claire’s and right when we got there, they closed for the call of prayer. Every time there is the call of prayer, stores everywhere close. Grocery stores. Shops in malls. Fast food places won’t serve you; they won’t kick you out if you are already inside though. So we had to wait like 10 minutes. I ended up scoring 2 pairs of sunglasses for 20 Riyal. That’s like $5.30. Then in a different store I got my hands on a killer mini duffel bag that is the American flag. I just couldn’t resist.

Once they dropped me off, I cut off the brand name letters that were on the front of my new bag. It was something I’ve never heard of. Looks cooler without it.  Badr and I watched tv and powered down from a long weekend.

Work

"You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore."            

            I love the people I work with; we have a good time. They all know that I am always down for a snack or a good laugh, sometimes both. We talk about food, how we are sick of work for the day, and sometimes we actually work.

            And the patients are great. I can always tell when the patient is trying to figure out how to ask “where are you from?” There are different ways they go about this. The beat around the bush question: “are you from here?” Do I look like I am from here? Or better yet, does it sound like I even speak Arabic? Ha! I love that question. The straight forward: “where are you from?” The trying to politely guess: “are you from America?” I always know when these questions are coming…but how? I can tell because I am always being stared at prior to the question.

            After he or she has pinned down that I am from America, the next question is where in America. I generally start with “you’ve probably never heard about it because it is small” and I’m usually right. I then explain that it is close to Texas. Sometimes I have time to talk about the good ole South or the fact that it is the Natural State.

            Then I’m usually asked why I am here. I explain that my (Saudi) husband is the reason. That usually blows their minds, and they always seem pleased. Next question: have I learned Arabic? I explain that I have only been here about 2 months. That also blows their minds.            

            The question I don’t really like is “do you miss America?” I always combat that question with humor, such as “I miss grass.” But on a serious note, I hate that question. It makes me think of my hometown and all my memories there. It makes me think of my neighborhood: the street I wrecked my bike on and the elbow skin I left behind on the pavement, the path I took while walking the dogs, the time Joe and I locked ourselves out of the house and walked to Aunt Sara and Uncle James’s house and broke in so we could use their phone. I think of the glory days in Fayetteville when I had no care in the world. It makes me think of Razorback football. And the worst is thinking of my family; all of our laughs, our tears both happy and sad, our feasts, our movie nights, our vacations, and all of our memories together. My authentic reaction would be to put my head down, sigh, and say “so much.”