Wish I Had a Camera Moment #1,467,298

Alternately Titled: I Left My Eagle at Home

I don't bring my camera along as much as I should. Anyway it's kind of slow, and usually by the time it's up and running the photo op is long gone.

Tonight would have been just one of those experiences, and boy would I have liked to have had my camera at the ready:

I was standing outside my apartment building waiting for a friend from church, when one of the building's residents came walking towards the front doors carrying his pet. This maybe doesn't appear so out of the ordinary as us Westerners are used to walking dogs, and sometimes even cats on a rare occasion (that I mostly witnessed in France). This Arab guy was carrying his falcon. I do know that falconry was a popular sport in the region, I just never thought I'd see a guy take his bird for a nice evening stroll. (I don't know why he was carrying the bird around on his arm, but he walked like it was the most natural thing to do.)

Yes I stared. I had to get that mental picture because obviously I didn't have my camera.

How Good Do I Have to Be to Get...

...this totally adorable half-apron in Christmas print from Cath Kidston? How good do I have to be to get anything from her Web site? I swear, Santa, I've been a super good girl this year.

I'm Dreaming of a Wet Christmas

I am sure you will all recall being a child and eagerly anticipating that certain change of weather that the winter months bring. Most assuredly our eyes searched the heavens for at least one snowflake--any sign that meant that school could be closed the next day. Being in the desert the kids don't really get to experience the joy of falling snow. I imagine it's probably hard for the expat kids (who know about snow) to hear songs like "White Christmas" or "Let it Snow" without looking towards the heavens for a weather-related Christmas miracle, instead of the fake stuff at Ski Dubai.

And now that we are adults, even though we know what hassles the snow can bring, we can't help but feel a little giddy about the first snowfall of the year, especially when accompanied by the elated shouts of a kid greeting the flakes with a jubilant "It's snowing!!"

And I thought I would miss that feeling here.

This last week, the weather has finally turned chilly enough for me to reach for a sweatshirt for my walk to work. The clouds started to cover the sky, and the wind has picked up. We even had a sandstorm that caused the city to appear encased in fog. It is almost like a good winter.

Yesterday after church, while chatting with friends, the feet of a few boys thundered to the nearest window. Without even a word, one could sense that they were excited about something going on outside. Almost in unison they proclaimed, "It's raining!" and quickly headed for the exit to go play in the rain. My own heart leapt in excitement. Rain! It's finally raining!

Oh sure, you can't build rain-forts, have rainball fights, or make rain angels, but when you haven't seen a drop of precipitation since March the first rainfall somehow feels a lot like snow. And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish my work and get outside. There are some puddles to jump in!

Back to Dubai

I've spent a good amount of time not talking about Dubai, and now that I've finished my vacation I can start talking about where I am living currently. And since today in the 38th National Day, I thought I would celebrate by sharing some cultural aspects of this oh so patriotic holiday.

The 38th National Day fell one week after Eid, which in the Islamic world is a pretty important holiday. No, it's not Ramadan, but it does celebrate the pilgrimage to Mecca that is an important pillar in the Islamic faith. However, if you have been Dubai this past week, you would not have noticed any of the Eid celebrations, but you would see preparations for National Day. Excuse me, the 38th National Day.

One of the biggest traditions is car decorating. People will dress up their very expensive cars in stickers and streamers and then parade around town with all of their friends shooting off fireworks and spraying silly sting. Here's a video clip to show you what the cars look like:

Happy 38th National Day!

Part Four: Signs

The best part of my trip to London was spending time with Corina. She moved to London over a year ago to get her Master's Degree. When she finished, she had every intention of returning to the States to spend time with the people who represent a safe haven. However, she realized that she needed to stay in London. Now she is my biggest cheerleader to get me to stay in the UK permanently.

It should be no surprise to most people that know me well that I have a huge desire to live in England. It could be because I've spent too many hours watching BBC miniseries, but the truth is I've been daydreaming about this since I was little. Maybe it was Charles & Diana's wedding. Maybe it was a copy of the Friend magazine that was entirely devoted to that small country. All I know is that I want to be there. So my good friend spent my last and final day of vacation pointing out that I was meant to be in England.

#1 Who doesn't like tweed? Who doesn't like a totally British older couple dressed head to toe in tweed? How is this a sign? Not sure, except for the totally British scene.

#2 Free Museums. My original plan was to go check out the jewels at the Tower of London, which incidentally does cost money. Since I needed to be in South Kensington anyway I went to look at the jewels at the Victoria & Albert Museum. Unlike the many museums in New York that let you bypass the extraordinarily high ticket fees with a conscience-soothing "donation," the V&A is actually free. I could drop a few pence in the donation bucket if I so felt the urge, but it wasn't required for entry. (Also, this wasn't the special Target "free day" either.) We only had time for two of the exhibits, but that's what great about free museums, you can go again and again until you have had your fill.

#3The awesomest celebrity sighting EVER. Oh sure, I can use up all my digits counting the famous and notable folk I've seen in New York, but in England there is one class of celebrity that is a little hard to come by in the U.S.: royalty. After the V&A Corina and I serendipitously came upon a blink-and-you'll-miss-it Scandinavian restaurant. After we had seated ourselves and chosen our lunch items, I looked over to my right and saw Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York no farther than five feet away. (Yes, she got to keep the title.) I know!! Luckily with all my NYC celebrity sightings I was totally able to keep my cool. No, I didn't talk to her, that would be silly. But I saw her!!!

#4 There is that pretty yummy cupcake bakery I previously mentioned. You know, in case I ever need additional income. They also have pretty awesome packaging.

#5 While walking around the Temple area, from what I gather it is where a lot of legal stuff goes down, we saw some legal stuff going down. Or rather, we saw people in the full legal attire officially marching off to court in a very "Pomp & Circumstance" formality. American legal proceedings, except for the ones on TV, are usually not very interesting as this was. Especially where legal attire is concerned.

#6 My blood is here. Maybe part of the reason I want to be here is because of my ancestry. Check this out:

My friend Sarah actually found this place shortly after she moved to London. This Inn is not a form of hotel p.s.andbytheway. According to the short bit of research I've done, it is just building used for legal purposes...since about the 1400's. And it's pretty cool that it is still standing, and in use.

#7 Cadbury bars. Those Double Deckers are tasty.

All of the above and another quick walk long the Thames and I was sold. Sure I need to be an adult and everything, but I can so do that in England. And that heavy heart that I had when walking into the Dubai airport the following morning told me that at least rather be there than here.

Part Three: Sunday Peep Show

Corina's apartment complex is a group of small buildings clustered together in C-shaped groups of three throughout the area. Her small studio is rather roomy, it's size enhanced (most likely) by really big windows in the living room and in the bathroom. After my steamy shower in her shower-curtain-less bathroom, I decided to open the window just slightly to de-fog the mirrors and let the steam out. A slight breeze latched onto the window and it opened. All. The. Way. There I stood, in my birthday suit, wondering what I should do. Especially since I left my towel on the other side of the bathroom--requiring me to pass by the open window to retrieve it. Problem.

Crouching down I surveyed the area, and didn't see anyone walking about in front of their large windows. I felt confident enough that no one would see me as I streaked across the bathroom. So off I went, crouching down, to get my towel. Then, not thinking, I wrapped that towel around me while standing, and while facing the great outdoors. I prayed that no one saw me.

At church, we had what I consider my favorite Sunday of the year: Primary Program Sunday. This is where the kids sing songs and talk about all the things they learned at church throughout the year. This year the theme was "My Eternal Family," and the kids related their (good, positive) feelings for their families. The best part of these programs is the fact that these children are not trained performers so there will be one or two who "shine" differently than the other children. I was quite taken with one girl who obviously had no clue what they were singing. Oh, she would mouth the words with a very open mouth, but you could amusingly note that her mouth movements did not match the words to the songs. It was a classic Primary Program moment.

After being spiritually filled at church, we rushed home to eat lunch and get Gillian on her train back to Coventry. As we walked into Corina's complex a reddish BMW drove by with a couple of guys in it. They made a point of smiling, waving, and blowing kisses...at me. At first I thought back to how charming British men have been throughout my trip. Corina concurred (as she has had quite a bit of dating success there in England). Then it hit me like a big gust of cold air...they saw me. All of me. As I dashed all nakey across my friend's bathroom. Well, I'm glad they liked the show. (You didn't really think that I would escape that sort of dilemma without any repercussions, did you?)

My feet were still throbbing, and I welcomed a quiet Sunday afternoon at home. Plus I was a little embarrassed to leave the apartment in daylight. But, I was in England after all. If you have never had a chance to visit London, you should know that walking along the Thames is a must. Especially at night. That particular Sunday evening in late October was an ideal time for such a walk. Not only were Corina and I out there, but so was a nice handful of the London population.

The bus dropped us off by the famous Old Vic Theatre and we wandered westwards past Parliament and Big Ben. It made me really happy to be in a city where I could walk and sightsee. Dubai is not a pedestrian city. Even if it was, it is too hot to enjoy walking. It goes without saying that I enjoyed every step and every sight along the way...even if my blisters shouted in agony. If I had a crush on England before I visited, my feelings had developed into full-blown love.

Speaking of love, the final Sunday activity was to visit my friend and former roommate Sarah. Sarah left for England the same time I left for Beirut, only her experiences have turned out much better than mine. So good, in fact, that she met her husband a few short hours after arriving. It was nice to finally meet Jack. He seems very charming, and just the sort of fellow I would want my good friend to marry. Well done, Sarah.

Of course, it does make me wonder if I could be as lucky if I moved to England. I do have a couple of fellows in a reddish BMW that seemed quite taken with me...

Part Two: What Happened to My Toes?

I had every intention of waking up bright and early to be dressed and ready for my friend Gillian to arrive from Coventry. Hmmm...instead I woke up when she called to say that she was five minutes from arriving. Whoops. Corina and I immediately put some clothes on and rushed out to meet her. I hadn't seen Gillian since December 2006 when I made a holiday trip to Seattle, and it goes without saying that it was good to see her again.

Gillian kindly waited for me to wash my hair and to look somewhat presentable before greeting the mean streets of London. After a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs with carrots and a crumpet (it is England, indeed!), Gillian and I left Corina to do some job searching and headed straight for Picadilly.

We hadn't walked for very long before my pinky toes decided that they didn't like the totally cute blue flats that I got a Target. With every step my toes got pushed further and further into the sides of the shoes to the point where I was about to kick them to the curb and go barefoot. Kind of a lame way to start the day, but a good excuse to go shoe shopping. Gillian had an errand at the Apple store, so I made an unsuccessful trip to the Nike store. (Is it me, or is Nike just producing ugly shoes these days?) I went to a couple other places until Gillian and I struck comfy shoe gold when we spotted a sale at the Clarks store. With a new pair of red MaryJanes, I was ready to get back on the road, and in particular Portobello Road.

Gillian navigated the tube system to get us to Notting Hill. Like most of you, I imagine, my only knowledge of this charming neighborhood is by the romantic comedy bearing the same name. Notting Hill is even better in person. We ate lunch at Eat-- a kind of Pret A Manger establishment where you can by freshly made sandwiches and stuff. After lunch I ate a Double Decker (making a total of two Cadbury bars so far.)

Portobello Road is a street full of vintage stores and other quaint shops, plus it holds a street market where people sell old knickknacks, jewelry, produce, etcetera. I nearly bought a lovely cameo ring, but at 20 quid I wasn't sure that I wanted to spend that much money. I kind of regret that...maybe next time. If you were hanging out with us, you would have thought that perhaps Gillian was shopping for single men. I hope she doesn't mind me recording this memory, but it was really hilarious. If there was a well-toned fellow within twenty feet of us, she spotted him. I could barely keep up.

That being said, let me just briefly state one thing that I absolutely loved about London. I noticed that if a guy saw a girl he liked he would smile at her. Well, I certainly noticed it happened in my direction. It was incredibly flattering. Now, certainly it wasn't the first time a fellow noticed me. Hispanic men honk, whistle, and shout. Persian men stare. Creepily. I am pretty sure we could come to all sorts of conclusions about why I like the male Brit attentions, but with Hispanic and Persian men I just get the impression that they do the same things to no matter which female walks by them. It is much better for the self-esteem, when a select few make you feel good about yourself as they smile when you walk by.

Another thing I loved: Hummingbird Bakery. I went there with the express reason to taste their products and bring cupcakes back to Dubai. Hummingbird is another one of the many cupcake/American style dessert shops on this planet. It does have a good clientele, including Gwyneth Paltrow, and in my opinion the most delicious vanilla cake I have ever tasted. Better than Magnolia, and better than where I currently work. They were clean out of cupcakes when Gillian and I arrived at 5pm. But I had a huge slice of their gorgeous vanilla cake.

As we headed to the tube Gillian and I found the bookstore from Notting Hill.

On the tube we smiled at the cute boys, exchanged stories, and I wanted to chop off my feet. My pinky toes were still hurting, and the balls of my feet were also joining the pity party. They complained loudly, but I pretended not to hear them.

We met up with Corina who showed us a Chipotle knock-off, and for two tortilla-deprived girls it was heaven.

She also introduced us to the Angel neighborhood where Gillian encountered an Israeli waiter whom she thought was an angel. She was quite taken with him. I was more taken with the polenta, lime, pistachio cake slice I bought. (Are you keeping a sugar tally? I am just as amazed that I didn't have an upset stomach.) No worries, Corina walked us all over a part of London I would have never even thought to visit. Well, rather, I hobbled along and occasionally stopped to gawk, gush, and swoon over the clothes and other objects in store windows. I realized then and there that the reason I like fall so much is because of fall clothes.

After a quick errand at Sainsbury grocery store where we picked up food for the next day, orange-flavored KitKats, and bath foam (for 15 pence!) we took our tired and cranky feet home. I took off my shoes to survey the damage. Ouch! Blisters on the balls of my feet, and two very large blisters on the tips of my pinkies. So big that they were pushing my toenails off. I did some minor surgery on them and happily stayed off them for the rest of the evening.

Layover in London: Part One

Fortunately the travel deity was smiling on me during my trip to London, and I had an infinitely better flight. (Except for a little discussion I had with a security guy about the need for more than one Ziplock bag. Seriously, who can fit all the toiletries in one quart-sized bag?!?!) I couldn't sleep as well as I wanted during the flight, but that problem was ameliorated by the precocious German-speaking Swiss boy seated next to me. He was probably five or six, and at first he couldn't quite grasp the fact that I had no clue what he was saying to me. His mom explained to him that I spoke English, but I think we managed to be friends anyway. At times when I would wake up from my brief, sporadic naps I would find his head on my shoulder or his arm on his lap. I hope his mom was okay with that....

Because I had filled my umpteen suitcases and carry-on bags with treats from the States, I decided not to be that annoying passenger on the tube and instead took a cab from Heathrow to my friend Corina's house. Plus, I think taking one of those iconic London taxi cabs are part of the fun of visiting England. I must admit that I grinned to myself when the driver sat in the other side of the car. It's funny--I almost believed that driving on the right side of the car is just something the Brits do for the tourists, but after being on the freeway for awhile I realized that everyone drives that way, not just cabs full of American tourists.

Eighty-five whopping pounds later I arrived at Corina's apartment a little tired, but totally giddy. While Corina had a tea-date and some job searching to do, I showered and afterwards took a walk to get the blood flowing. I liked her neighborhood. It had charming houses, trees, and it was utterly and completely British.

I also ate a Star Bar, which officially began my goal to eat Cadbury every day on my trip.

I took a nap, ate some potato kale soup, and then Corina and I headed for some nightlife. The blessing of staying with a friend in a city like this one is that you get to hang out with someone who actually knows what to do once the museums close for the night. When I was visited London in 2002, I was completely baffled at the thought of entertaining myself at night. I'm not one for bars and clubs, so yes after a cheap meal at the hostel I would spend the evening alone in my room reading a book. Nerdy? You bet. But at least I saw a show one night.

Back to London Trip 2009. Corina and I took a bus (which also drives on the other side of the road) to some part of town and we went to an open mic night that one of her church friends organizes. We went to some bar that had a lot of Jamaican/African customers. We were two of the maybe seven white people in this very crowded establishment. Which, of course, made it even more interesting. There were some fabulous singers, and some not-so-fabulous singers, but it was so fun. Corina and I were even asked to have our picture taken for some publicity shots to show people that the open mic night draws a diverse crowd. I think it was the first time I added to the diversity of a crowd.

Corina and I are both tall people, and I don't know how it is for short people, but it is hard for both of us to stand for a long time without experiencing lower back pain, so we ended up leaving the bar before the mic closed. Probably for the best as I was tired, and needed energy for a full day of London sightseeing the next day.

Last Days

I hope to have my vacation blogging finished soon. It has been crazy busy at work, and I have been a little too cranky to type things up. Plus there has been this little issue with me trying to move a picture from iPhoto to this blog. I think I've figured it out.

I spent the last few days in the U.S. of A in Seattle with my sister, cousins, and friends. I was really glad that my sister Andrea accompanied me the last few days, and not only because she provided me with transportation. Our quality time actuality started in Spokane when we went and saw Where the Wild Things Are and I helped her become Madame Hooch for a Halloween party.

We had a nice drive across the mountains, and arrived at my cousin Alicia's house in time for a nice walk to my old junior high. The walk to and from school when I was younger was the reason I was a twig. It is uphill both ways, and one of those hills is actually a staircase consisting of 210 railroad tie steps. It was a good workout for us, and we totally earned Alicia's good soup and cinnamon rolls. I could so use a workout like that here.

Andrea was my shadow for a bit the following day when we met my former co-worker, Michael, for lunch at Noah's Bagels in Mercer Island. (I had chili and a pumpkin bagel). It was fun meeting up with Michael, and he told me all about cyclocross (cross-country biking). Maybe I'll have to take that up one of these days. He took a picture of me and my sis, but it still in my email... After that filling meal and conversation, Andrea and I headed to Pike Place Market. No visit to Seattle is complete without a trip there. If I could, I would've hugged that place.

I hugged my sister instead as we took that self photo. I bought some jams and honey, and then we decided to warm up a bit with a cup of hot chocolate from Dilletante. No cup of autumn cocoa is complete without a donut, so we headed to Top Pot. It has been a really long time since I have eaten a donut, and the old-fashioned varieties we chose were heavenly. I picked out a pumpkin flavor. (P.S. Not only did I attempt to eat huge amounts of junk food while home, I also sought out anything pumpkin.) Upon our return to Alicia's house, we were surprised with a visit from our cousin Stephanie, who joined us all for a taco dinner. I was so glad she came over. We worked off our treats of the day with a trip to the gym with Alicia.

Cousin-time continued the next day as Andrea and I drove up to spend the day with my Natalie and her two daughters. I have already told you about sweet Leah, and well, as you may have guessed, she continued to be sweet. We played with some toys and Natalie introduced us to Yo Gabba Gabba--pretty much the coolest kids show on the tube these days. (Look out next year for an appearance from Weezer on the show!) We trekked of to a new Fred Meyer store for lunch with Uncle Bruce, and to collect last minute items like Crystal Light and Little Debbie snacks. (Not for me, by the way). It was sad to make a round of good-byes to Uncle Bruce, Natalie, and her girls. But very comforting to know that in roughly 4 1/2 months I can see them again.

That night I finally met up with some Seattle friends. I didn't make as much time for friends in this trip as I would have liked, so my deepest apologies for any oversights and hurt feelings. (Remember, I'll be back in the state in March 2010!!) Andrea and I joined Erin, Carol, Brett, Stacey, and Bob for dinner at PF Chang. It was good food, but it didn't hold a candle to the joy one has when catching up and reminiscing about fun memories. Some of us, and I won't name names here, felt it necessary to bring up some pretty embarrassing stories about a certain blogger who will also remain nameless. Will no one forget my foibles?!?! After the fortune cookies were cracked, we resumed the chatter at Erin's until Stacey fell asleep on Bob's shoulder, and we all decided to call it a night. I recently watched on Oprah, that people in Okinawa credit their longevity to a good friendship support system. I totally get that. That night re-juvinated me.

Finally the sad day came for me to leave the companionship of family and friends. I visited the temple, and then Andrea had a very filling, although not-so-nutritious, meal from Triple X. I love that place. Andrea totally dug it too, as I knew she would. Not only are the burgers good and greasy, but the root beer is pretty awesome. Andrea also appreciated the classic car decor.

At last Andrea drove me to the airport. I had a great time with my sister. We hadn't hung out like that since she visited me in New York nearly two years ago. Thanks Andrea for joining me in Seattle!

I hugged her good-bye, and got on the plane. Next stop: London.

Growing Up

*Author's note: I edited the 3rd from the bottom paragraph to reflect, that I actually do like living on foreign soils.

One of the best parts of being home was being taken care of by my parents. Even though I am thirty-three years old, and quite independent, it was nice to be under the watchful eye of loving caregivers. As it turns out, however, this thirty-three year old independent girl is still quite dependent.

While I was home I went to the dentist (no cavities!!), bought a new computer, and updated my wardrobe a bit--all thanks to mom and dad. I couldn't have done any of that without the financial backing of my more solvent parental unit. Their wonderful generosity, for which I am incredibly grateful, provided a mean sort of revelation that at my age, and especially after all the career choices I have made, I am not self-reliant.

Due to the economic crisis, and the recent Sunday School lesson on self-reliance, this fact weighed down on my mind. My career choice isn't turning into what I want. (Again.) And worse, it isn't even helping me survive as an adult. Part of the problem is that I live in Dubai, and my boss pays me less here than what I could bring home in the States. The payment of a "great experience" has far from panned out as well. And now I hate my once-hobby. Once again I feel like I am back at square one, and still trying to figure out this whole "being a grown-up" business.

It is an interesting sort of challenge to choose one's life-work or career. We have so many choices, and thanks to Barbie, girls like me feel they can do anything (like Barbie!--please note that she is now a Fairy Princess, and that isn't a very lucrative career choice). Perhaps if I lived in the 1950's my career choice would be easier as they would pretty much be limited to: teacher, secretary, nurse, and mother. Maybe growing up would be easier with less choices.

Part of the trouble of trying to figure out "what we want to be when we grow up" is because we tend pigeon-hole "be" as the type of occupation, and we forget there is a bit more to being a grown-up. Maybe at age five we should have asked ourselves, "what kind of life do I want to have when I grow up," and then we could find the career that fits in with that lifestyle.

And that is the scale I am going to use from here on out in deciding my adult behavior. Here's what I've figured out so far:

I'm not very good with desk jobs; I get easily distracted and end up writing more personal emails than business ones. I like having real weekends, and holidays off. I like to spend time with my family, and yet I like to travel away from them. I need a place that fosters creativity and problem solving. I prefer to have interaction--I'm pretty sure I have cubicle-induced ADHD. I want time for projects, hobbies, and things I want to learn like upholstering or other languages. I want to have friends close by--new and old. I want to use those foreign language skills that I acquired. I want to dress up for work; my spirit needs to dress up, and I fear I've forgotten how to do it. And if I bake for money, it will be small projects on my time off or a summer farmer's market. And when I bake for fun, it will not be cupcakes. And finally, when I live in a different country I want to be able to actually live in that country--not just work the whole time.

I think I have figured out a path, but would like your input as well (yes, a request for comments). In the meantime, I will plan on returning to school. And in April I will be back under my parent's roof, letting them take care of me, hanging out in their bedroom watching Criminal Minds and eating popcorn while I get all of this figured/planned out.

Now, however, I have to go finish my laundry because, unfortunately, my mom isn't here to do it for me. And it is one of the few grown-up things I can do successfully, after all.

Yes, Please!

I interrupt my travelogue to post a video of a song from a band that I love. Apparently this song has been on the airwaves for about a month, so I am probably a little love in showing my affection. But in case the rest of you have either been on vacation or suffering through someone else's iPod, like me, here is something a little joyful and hopeful.



I would say that is a bit more "pop" than their music is normally, but I like it. I like the hopeful vibe. I haven't been feeling that adjective very often since my move to the Middle East, and it's nice to have music influence a good mood.

P.S. and by the way, the band is releasing their "greatest hits" collection soon/now. Sure, I have a lot of their songs anyway, but I think it could be a worthy purchase. So, if you were wondering what to get me for Christmas...

From one Desert to Another

You may be getting pretty tired of these picture-less vacation posts, but you will have to deal with it because: 1) I didn't use my camera for 2/3 of my vacation; 2) I haven't figured out how to post a picture I saved in iPhoto (on my new Mac. Help someone!); and 3) you already know what you look like anyway.

Since my sister's teeth surgery was more important than flying the whole family to Seattle (indeed it was, I'm not being sarcastic) my sister flew me down to see my niece and nephew, both of whom have grown quite a bit since I saw them a whopping two years ago. Sam is nearly my height, and even though his voice is much lower, it sounded just like him. The best word to describe Liz is: pixie. With her heart-shaped face, lithe frame, small mouth, and hair that flips in places she is very much like a pixie. What good-looking kids. What good kids, too. I couldn't help but feel that they were good and tried to do good as well.

In the interest of keeping this interesting, I'll cover the main points of my visit to Arizona:

• the first order of business on my trip to Arizona was my nephew's football game. This is his first year playing football, and he is a fullback on the 9th grade team. I was warned that the team wasn't very successful, and the rumor proved true during the first few seconds when the opposing team scored a touchdown and a two-point conversion. I was very glad that Sam got to play a lot during the 4th quarter (and carry the ball too!) otherwise I wouldn't have been able to say "I am so glad that I got to see you play!" after his team got sorely beaten. Sam loves playing football, and he has not yet been discouraged by the lack of wins; hard practices, and the jerky starting players. I love that he enjoys it.

• The next day Amy introduced me to what I see as the one benefit of living in Arizona: RetroTV. We should probably be embarrassed to admit to watching countless hours of T.V. instead of touring Phoenix, but it was loads of fun reminiscing over our favorite childhood shows, like Emergency! and A-Team. The latter remains a T.V. icon (and an upcoming feature-length film), but does anyone else remember Emergency!--the late 70's medical drama(?) about a couple of EMT, doctors, and taciturn nurse? It was fabulous--it's even better to watch it now, and compare it with similar shows in our day that probably hire doctors to help write the medical stuff. The stark differences between medical dramas today and that show turned the once-dramatic stuff into sheer comedy: "We don't know why your toddler stopped breathing, but we do know that it happens sometimes." Or "How do we get this (80-year-old) woman off the hill during the wildfire?" "We can strap the stretcher to the top of our truck." Something very similar to that, at least.
  

• Friday, we made a quick mile or so hike on this little hill somewhere in Phoenix. Sam, in full football-training mode decided to run. Show-off. I was glad that it was not humid and that we didn't see any rattlesnakes or scorpions. Liz saw a roadrunner. My sister and I discussed my future.

• It's always fun to see Uncle Jerry, although the visit was pretty quick. He mostly just asked about Dubai, and I was glad to recount as much as I could. Sometimes I get a little boring when people find out that I actually haven't seen anything too exciting. I haven't even seen a camel.
  

• While in town, I got a much needed haircut. I've had my haircut twice in the Middle East, and both times were disappointing. While in the chair it was discovered that my hair is wavier than I thought. It's amazing what one can discover with good hair products and a diffuser. And to think that I've been hiding all of this in a ponytail and under a bandanna. I've been trying to let it go wavy in public now, but I am not sure what to do with the bangs, and I need bangs.

• I ate my first Sprinkles cupcakes. They were fine. I liked the idea of the cinnamon sugar cupcake, though. It's nice to have a non-frosting option.

• IloveyouAnthropologieforeverandeverandeverandoneofthesedaysIwillgetabetterjobsoIcanafford you.

• I had a fun night out with my friend LeeAnn, who left Seattle for Phoenix about the time I left for NYC. It's always good to hang out with her. I love that she loves her job; it inspires me. Plus she's active and social, and that inspires me as well. We went to a lyrical opera entitled "The Turn of a Screw" or something like that. Here's my thoughts: Don't go. Unless you absolutely love everything that is in the form of an opera or love everything that Henry James wrote. I didn't love the music or the idea of ghosts fondling children. LeeAnn felt the same way, so we ditched the opera for Greek food, frozen yogurt, and good conversation. So much better than the opera.
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• Saturday morning Liz and I helped my sister with a photo shoot/promotion for a dog kennel/place to do dog stuff. Liz was very confident about setting up our information booth; I guess she helps out pretty often. Then I got to sit with her and chat about school, fashion, and all the dogs we saw. She was such a fun baby, toddler, little girl, and now that she is 12 years old she is growing into a fabulous person.
  
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• I don't remember which days these things happened, but they made me happy. One night for dinner my brother-in-law Jake made burritos, and we s'mores for dessert. Another time we ate waffles. I've missed those food items. But I think you already know that.
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• So apparently Blogger wants to do funny stuff with my bullet points. Oh well.
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• Sunday morning my sister and I participated in the Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure, although I would like to submit that the event should be called the Susan G. Komen Shuffle for the Cure because there were so many people that we didn't really take any normal walking strides. I was glad to do the walk for such a good cause, and I wore a friend's name on my back to show support for her. However, I just have to say these two things: 1)I don't particularly like cheerleaders shouting out cheers like, "Go Boobies!" It sounds like something one would hear at Hooters or Las Vegas. 2) It was a 5k walk/shuffle--not a race--and it was so not hard, so the typical "you're almost done" "good work" "you can do it" shouts were a little misplaced. It's not a marathon, for crying out loud. The only place where those cheers may be necessary would be while standing in a long line in front of an outhouse at such events. Those are my opinions, treat them as such.

Thanks Amy, Jake, Sam, Liz, and Shadow the dog that became my shadow. I had a wonderful time.

From the Laboratory vs. From the Garden

The funny thing about my trip to the states was that, as far as food is concerned, all I wanted to eat was good ol' American junk food. Even before my trip, I anticipated treats like Diet Dr. Pepper, Top Pot donuts, Sonic tater tots, and processed lunch meat. Oh yes, my first sandwich upon arrival at the folk's house was a bologna sandwich, with cheese, mustard, and potato chips (inside the sandwich, naturally.) I snacked on the candy in Grandma's room; had a can of various brands of diet cola each day; ate copious amounts of microwaved popcorn (oh wait, I do that in Dubai too); enjoyed different types of fried potatoes, luxuriously devoured a pumpkin pie shake from Jack in the Box, and shared a cream puff with my Grandma (although that was entirely her idea. Well, she was craving one, I encouraged her to buy it with the offer to share). It would appear from that menu that my one goal for that trip was to shorten my life with clogged arteries, or depending on your opinion, lengthen it with a plethora of preservatives.

Who can say? But when conversing with my American friend who lives in London, she had a similar desire to eat processed food as well. I specifically recall that she hunted down some Cheez-Its during her recent U.S. vacation. In Bill Bryson's book I'm a Stranger Here Myself, a collection of articles he wrote for London's Daily Mail about returning to the States after 20 years in the UK, he writes one article about his trip to the grocery store to giddily buy as much American processed junk as his wife would let him. She begrudgingly agreed, but with the understanding that he would have to eat all the of the frozen waffles, chips, snack cakes, candy, etc. by himself. He was happy to do so, but quickly grew sick of all the junk, and even hid some in the back of his refrigerator. (P.S.: read the book; it is laugh-out-loud hilarious.)

In my short time in the States, I never quite reached the "sick of the junk food" phase--even when my waistline was exhibiting signs of expansion. I was determined to get it all in--like that huge bowl of caramel popcorn...yum.

I think I can credit the lack of junk-food sickness because my diet was also filled with delicious home cooked meals with produce from the garden, homemade bread (although that did contribute to midsection growth, as bread likes to do), oatmeal cooked all night in a crockpot, and did I mention vegetables from the garden. Nothing says "invest in a farm co-op" like the taste of a home-grown tomato.

In fact, one of my favorite meals was one that yours truly whipped up. On our beautiful drive from Seattle to Spokane, my family stopped in Ellensburg to visit our friends Bob and Sandy. They have been family friends since before my parents got married. Without them I would have been stuck at the train station in Montauban eight years ago instead of being taken care of by a nice family that they knew who just so happened to live in that town. Also, without them, we wouldn't have had fresh fennel from their garden, and a recipe with which to use said fennel for that meal. I made a braised fennel dish to accompany some leftover pork roast from the big family dinner. Every vegetable in that dish came from a backyard garden: fennel, tomatoes, peas, and I can't remember the rest. It was divine.

So now I am back in Dubai, and I think my junk food cravings have subsided. I don't even salivate over cupcakes right now, and I look forward to making a nice pot of minestrone soup tonight. Even my waist is starting to look normal again. However, I do regret not taking that bag of peanut butter flavored Chex Mix with me...

A Warm Place

Isn't "the bosom of my family" an odd sort of phrase? I am not certain where I heard this phrase, but I kind of think it's scriptural or something. As odd as it is, "bosom" is supposed to be a place of warmth and comfort, figuratively and literally speaking. I had a friend at BYU (you know who you are) that would jokingly bring our heads to his chest while inviting us to "come to his bosom" if we had some sort of grievance. We would push him away in mock horror, but it was kind of nice. Long story short, I spent my vacation in the bosom of my family, but the first Saturday of my month of heaven was spent in the bosom of a huge portion of all my family, figuratively speaking of course.

My older sister had this idea to turn my trip home into a sort of family reunion. She always wants to plan those sorts of functions. If there is anything that belongs on my sister's headstone when she dies it should read "Here lies Amy Briscoe. All she ever wanted was a real Family Reunion." Or something to that effect. So she emailed everyone via Facebook and rallied the troops to get together in Seattle for something big and fun. Then she and her family decided that they couldn't make the trip. Then my brother dropped out. And a few others couldn't visit as well. So instead of a huge reunion-type thing with tugs-of-war and arts&crafts, we had a delicious meal and good company consisting of 1 grandma, 1 uncle, two aunts, 5 cousins, three cousin's spouses, 4 next-generation cousins, 1 dad, 1 mom, 1 sister and me.

It was an entirely lovely day.

My mom, the woman who gave me my skills in the kitchen, as well as a knack for worrying about what to make for dinner, went all out for the meal. She made the following: pork roast (which is naturally the first thing you eat when exiting an Arab country), mashed potatoes, rolls (bread is her specialty), pumpkin pie, and an cast-iron-skillet apple cake. My Uncle Bruce cooked green beans (from the garden) with bacon, and my Aunt Debi brought a salad with tasty citrus dressing (recipe please!). We like to eat in this family, and I must say that this hobby has been enhanced by some talented cooks and creative palates. Everything was so good as it always is.

Growing up, we had a lot of fabulous family meals around the holidays and such. When my immediate family moved away, one of the things I missed the most was being with all the aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. I truly looked forward to Saturday's dinner, and being able to catch up with everyone.

I had the most fun catching up with my cousin's 3-year-old daughter, Leah, who was born shortly after I left for New York. That girl has a lot of energy. Early in the afternoon, she entertained us by singing "If by chance you meet a frown" while marching in a circle. Soon the song got a little bit louder, and we noticed that she was actually singing:
If by chance you meet a smile
do not let it stay
quickly turn it upside-down
and frown that smile away.

All while marching in a circle.

Later, we played an "over and under" game. While sitting with my feet propped up on a chair, I encouraged Leah to crawl under my legs. Then she decided it would be fun to climb over my legs. She's three, but she's not little, and it really hurt when she dug her elbow into my thighs. At some point we were playing a fun game where she would pop up through my legs and hang for a bit. I would also swing her in that position. We totally bonded. Later, when I was having a bit of a nap on the floor, she told her step-cousins not to step on me because I was her cousin. I felt that I had succeeded in becoming a true part of her family, and not just that distant, wandering person whom she may know from pictures or stories.

While everyone shared their time and concern for me, I shared some fun Arabic stuff I brought for the family to try. I bought a whole bunch of roasted nuts, dates, cardamom gum and camel-milk chocolate. The chocolate had a slightly sour aftertaste, but it was actually pretty good. I also brought little bags of zaatar, a traditional herb mix, for everyone to try at home. Zaatar is a combo of thyme, marjoram, sumac, and sesame seeds. I've eaten it mostly on breads in Lebanon. My favorite is a manakish: flat bread sprinkled with halloumi cheese, cooked in a brick oven, and then a thin layer of zaatar mixed with a bit of olive oil. So good. Everyone needs to let me know the results of their zaatar-experiments. (P.S. dear readers, you can buy this stuff at specialty spice stores and at middle-eastern grocery stores.)

It was hard to say good-bye to everyone again at the end of the evening. But it is nice to make plans to come back.

It's Good to Set Goals

The couch at my cousin Alicia's house wrapped me up in comfy warm goodness and (along with the help of two Tylenol PM) I slept through that first night on the opposite side of the world with zero problems. I wasn't even too groggy when I awoke. My one goal for that day was to stay awake as much as possible in order to get over the jet lag fast. I had read that exercise helps so I enlisted Alicia to take a walk with me in the morning. Alicia just so happens to live two blocks from one of my childhood homes, so it was a trip around the neighborhood filled with nostalgia. (She just so happens to live in the cul-de-sac that always gave out full-sized candy bars on Halloween.) I really appreciated the one-on-one time with her (especially since I missed her wedding).

The next trick up my jet-lag-reducing sleeve was a sufficient amount of caffeine. On the way to my uncle and aunt's house in Lynnwood, we stopped at an AM/PM gas station for some Diet Dr. Pepper. I grabbed the largest cup I could find, and began to fill up all 64 ounces, with just a few cubes of ice. At the cash register, the newbie cashier fumbled through some barcodes on a ring and asked if I was getting the gallon size. My eyes lit up "I didn't know that was an option!" I replied, but decided that 64 ounces was probably more than enough. At this point in the blog I would post the totally awesome picture of me enjoying my beverage, but I lost it. Maybe it is in my other computer...

At my uncle and aunt's house my mom got to work on a big family meal for the following day, but took a break when my uncle offered to take us to lunch at a Mexican restaurant. ("Us" included my mom, grandma, sister, and of course myself.) Dubai doesn't have too many Mexican restaurants, so getting food wrapped up in a tortilla was high on my vacation to-do list. I had a basic huge bean burrito, and although I am not certain I finished it all, it was certainly tasty. Thanks, Uncle Bruce!

My mum, ever the caretaker, decided to extend her cooking break by taking me clothes shopping. She had obviously read a previous post about my shabby attire and didn't want her daughter being looked down upon by foreigners, so off we went to Alderwood Mall. It wasn't too successful. While I am sure the mall's patrons have no problems with the stores (thus the reason they are still there), I didn't find anything that fit my style. I am neither a teen or a middle-aged woman, so I was kind of at a loss. Plus the mall has no Anthropologie or J.Crew. (Neither store is exactly bakery-friendly, but the clothes are pretty!) My mom found a nice top at Macy's for herself, though.

The afternoon progressed, and even though I started to feel fatigued I didn't take a nap. The Dr. Pepper was doing it's job. I think Grandma napped, however.

That evening I was treated to a Mariner's baseball game with my dad, sister, uncle, Alicia, her two stepsons, and a family friend. It was chilly, but I had a blast. We snacked on peanuts and arabic sweets, you know, all the traditional baseball fare. I sat next to Aidan, the youngest stepson, and I must say he was pretty charming, except when he tried to get me to drink out of the bottle of water that he backwashed into. The Mariner's played the Texas Rangers, who took an early lead, but the Mariners were able to catch up...at least until they gave up a nice handful of runs in the last inning. I was certain that the M's were aware that I was in town, so they were supposed to win. I guess the Ranger's didn't get the memo. Here, I would post some of the pictures I took of the game. Yep, they're lost as well. Awesome.

My eyelids were especially heavy on the ride back to Alicia's after the game. And with the aid of my favorite jet-lag-bedtime snack (erm, Tylenol PM), I slept soundly once again.

Why Does It Always Happen to Me?

Let this be a warning to you: don't ever travel with me via aircraft.

If you have ever heard me talk about my airplane experiences, you would know that I seem to be cursed be severe travel bad luck: luggage that takes its own vacations, pilots who don't show up to work, missing ID, etc. Every once in a while I get pretty lucky where the only thing that goes wrong is that my computer falls to the ground at the security checkpoint.

The first leg of my journey went so flawlessly that I was optimistic that the whole trip would continue that way. I made it to the airport well in-time for my flight, and my luggage was even underweight. (I think that was a first!) I did have to go through a security check three times, for some reason. The seven-and-a-half hour flight to London didn't even feel that long, and I only snoozed for about a half hour. I did, however, learn that The Thomas Crown Affair was not an even remotely interesting movie, despite starring Steve McQueen.

After a three hour layover at Heathrow Airport a huge crowd gathered at gate B32 to board the 747 bound for Seattle. I took my seat next to a nice older couple that were very friendly and pleased that I was not traveling with a baby. The passengers sat and mingled, I took a brief nap and read a magazine, yet we were still on the ground. The pilot finally announced that there was a leak while trying to fuel the jumbo jet. For about two and a half hours they fixed the problem and then ran diagnostics in order to see if the leak had indeed been fixed.

When they were finally satisfied, we slowly rolled down the tarmac. While moving my fellow passengers and I heard a lot of commotion coming from the very back of the plane. We stalled at the runway until we were greeted with another announcement stating that the passengers in the back of the plane noticed that not only we were still leaking fuel, there also appeared to be some smoke spewing out of one of the engines. He continued to let us know that we would have to de-board and wait for a new plane to take us to Seattle. What he courteously did not tell us that it was either that or crash somewhere over Manchester.

The initial estimation for our delay was about six hours. We were handed food vouchers (that worked out quite nicely at Pret a Manger), and then we waited. I wandered around the large terminal 5, pondered buying a considerable amount of Cadbury, and wondered how my family would find out about the delay. I had zero access to phone numbers and email, so I hoped they wouldn't have to wait too long at SeaTac before figuring it out. Every once in a while I would meet up with my fellow passengers and we would chat. One nice lady assured me that if I fell asleep she would be sure to awake me once our gate was announced.

Around 9pm (6 hours after we were supposed to take off), were called to a brand new gate and we all hurriedly gathered to wait some more. While we did have a more spry 747 to take us over the pole, we didn't have a crew or (and now this is the kicker) a turnover agent. You know--the person who calls the rows to board the aircraft. Apparently not just anyone can do this job--even though I was more than willing to take a crack at it. It was rather frustrating waiting for that person while hearing flights around you get called into order, especially when they couldn't just hop over to our gate when they finished up. You know, six hours is plenty of time to find someone, one would think, but we still had to wait another 4 hours for ours.

So if you are doing any sort of tallying, that would be a whopping 10 hour delay. Pretty much we left Heathrow when we should have been arriving in Seattle. It was like taking two long flights...or rather three considering the first long flight from that morning.

I was tired when we finally touched down in Seattle--I had been awake for 31 hours with maybe a total of 4 hours of napping--but, oh, so happy to finally be in Seattle.

And, you know, not cindered somewhere over the English countryside.

I'm Back

I just returned from a very fabulous vacation that took me to Seattle, Spokane, Phoenix, back to Spokane, back to Seattle, and finally to London.

My goal is to blog all about it in fun chapters that will highlight each city by the end of the week. However you need to be warned that I am very I am busy at work and shooting myself for getting on that plane back to Dubai.

Five more months...

Yeah, That's Why I Lived There

I heard this new Jay-Z song at a store yesterday, and abso-freakin'-lutely loved it.



It reminded me of all the reasons why I wanted to live in New York. And despite the fact that I consider New York an "abusive lover" that treats its inhabitants poorly, I often think about running back for more NYC experiences.

I miss New York, and I am a little sad that I am not making a stop there while on vacation. I am going to London, though. So besides "London Calling" what other London songs can I listen to for that trip?

*sorry about the skips in the sound. I can only assume someone was editing swears.

Help me, Tim!

I am getting some plans squared away for my upcoming vacation. I hear I get to see a baseball game, and hang in Arizona for a few days, but word on the street is that I am going to the dentist as well.

While trying to decide what to wear today, I thought of another super-cool vacation fun idea, and need some help getting it all situated:

Can someone please call Tim Gunn or Clinton and Stacey about getting me a new wardrobe? Most of my clothing items have a slight curry odor to them (thanks to the delicious Pakistani food made daily in my apartment). And I may or may not have a pair of pants whose backside has been bleached out by my toxic sweat. It is quite possible that I still wear said trousers in public because, really, I don' t have much to choose from.

It would be very entertaining for their viewers to watch me parade around in the grossest clothes known to man. With frizzy hair.

It's really no wonder the Emirati women give me weird looks.

Heaven Help Them

One of the things I like best about church is that we all have a responsibility (a calling, as we call it). I am most particularly glad that I have a responsibility because it means that once a week I don't have to be at work for three/four hours. (It has been a looong time since I have had a day off, but who's counting?) In Beirut I was in charge of teaching the kid's Sunday School lessons, here in Dubai I get to teach the adults their Sunday...er Friday School lesson. This is an assignment I've had before, and I really love it.

The last time I taught, however, it was in front of a group of twenty-somethings with pretty similar educational backgrounds and interests. For the most part. Here, I teach people of varying ages, educations, and ethnic backgrounds. While I still get the point across for each gospel doctrine, I am not sure my teaching method works the best.

To best describe my delivery, I would say that I come from the Lorelei Gilmore School of Teaching. If you've never seen an episode of Gilmore Girls, it may be hard to imagine what this means. Let me 'splain. In the course of a Sunday School lesson, I will talk really fast, go off on a few random tangents, tell self-depricating stories, and add in a few well-timed hair tosses to get the male population's attention.

And let's not forget the pop culture references. It is quite possible I may have compared the priesthood to Harry Potter or Superman. And I may have compared and contrasted the death of Joseph Smith to Noel Gallagher's departure from Oasis.

It can be a little like this:

How else would you expect me to teach?

Falling Perfectly

Today is the first day of September, and although the first day of fall is still twenty days away, one can't help but feel a little bit of autumn magic when the calendar finally reaches this month. Leave are eager to change colors, the air eases off the heat, and the sun hits the earth at just the right angle for a perfect autumn glow. I love this time of year. Well, I love this time of year when I live in a place that has this particular season. I hear Dubai does get cooler by the end of the month, but it's still beach weather year-round so I have a feeling I am going to truly miss the fall.

Fortunately the gods of autumn have smiled on me and I get to spend my annual vacation relishing the change of weather in some of my favorite places. While I have no set plans per se, (well except for the getting on and off airplanes part) here is a sampling of what I would like to have happen:

Hug kids, toddlers and babies...perhaps a few teenagers if they's allow it, tease a grandmother, eat crisp apples and warm cinnamon doughnuts, watch fish fly, and hear ferries' horns. I want to see mountain passes with a mix of deciduous and evergreen trees. I will run with Wild Things and catch up with network programming. I am going to laugh, reminisce, and pine away for a warmer wardrobe. I have a date to wrap myself in my green coat and don a scarf. And when the weather gets even colder I will drive on the other side of the road, visit a neighborhood chippy and devise a plot to return for a more permanent vacation.

And generally having the best 27 days ever.

It all begins on October 1st.

Wax On, Wax Off

There are occasions when I wish I was still living in the United States. Say, for example, you are at home alone with nothing to do and all of a sudden an awesomely bad movie comes on and you want to blog about this event (because, as I mentioned, you are alone with no one to hear your commentary), but you can't because you haven't had internet at home for a month. This was the situation last night when I discovered Karate Kid II while flipping channels. So I will try to write a bit of what came to mind while watching it.

I so know what you're thinking, "Karate Kid II was not a bad film--it was awesome!" Well, let me remind you that you were probably still in elementary school when you last saw this film, so guess what, the film is not like a fine wine and definitely did not get better with age. However, the beauty of nostalgia is, the memories of this movie do have a tendency to outweigh the particularities of its cheesy film-making. So of course a flood of memories came racing to forefront of my mind:

We all practised the crane-style kick as exhibited during the first flick, and repeated, although not as successfully, in the second. Don't even deny it. We all karate-chopped our siblings. (I have a certain cousin in Texas who is definitely guilty of that. He probably doesn't read this, but he knows who he is.) We "painted the fence," "waxed on and waxed off" and when Karate Kid II came about, we added breathing-focused-hands-in-prayer-position-while-moving-them-up-and-forward, as shown below before Danialsan chops his way through six sheets of ice.

But through all our fond memories of sitting in time-out after practising our moves on siblings or smaller neighborhood children, we forget the flaws of the film. I could go on and on about the bad dialogue (I had a lot of "did he really just say that?" moments), stereotyping, and why I still think that when she was younger my sister looked like Ralph Macchio, I would like to focus a little on costuming. Although the movie took place in the 80's, it seems that Okinawa was stuck in the 1950's. Chozen (the enemy kid...didn't know that was his name until I watched the credits) was dressed like mafia-greaser, and there was a sock hop with poodle skirts. (Do you recall that little dance that Danielsan and the girl were invited to, by none other than B.D. Wong, might I add?) I guess every teenage girl in Okinawa owns a crinoline.
I am a little annoyed that I couldn't find an image of Danielsan and his wardrobe. I thought it strange that he wore that Asian bandana in public, along with his pink-checked flannel shirt and high-waisted, baggy "mom jeans." That was the best part. I am pretty sure the waistline covered his navel. I recall that some people made fun of our President's similar denim choice during a baseball game, but perhaps he was trying to channel a little Karate Kid to help him get that pitch over the plate. It would have looked a little ridiculous if he tried the hands-in-prayer-focus-breathy-thing, so the jeans were probably the best thing he could have done.

The jeans did not stop him from getting the girl, as they would today. Gentlemen, take note. I certainly recall my girly affection for the Peter Cetera hit "Glory of Love" written for the film. Last night, part of me wanted to sing along and then buy it off of iTunes. I refrained; instead I just laughed heartily, and wished my sister was sitting next to me so I could slap her knee in acknowledgment of the memories we have surrounding the song and the movie. I know she would do the same thing.

In the end Danielsan and Mr. Miyagi saved the girl, the town, their honor and the day, and I sat on my bed pretty pleased that I found such a good way to pass the evening. But while watching the credits, I noticed something a little disconcerting that broke my childhood heart: Karate Kid II wasn't even filmed in Okinawa; it was filmed in Hawaii. I felt so deceived in a way. Who knows, maybe if it was actually filmed in Japan, it may not have been so awesomely bad, and I wouldn't be able to make fun of it.

Excuses, excuses

Sometimes we need to have a really good excuse in order to get something accomplished. For example when your pants feel a little loose, it's a good excuse to up your daily dessert quota. I recently had a really good excuse to play tourist in this fair city while I hosted a couple of friends who were here for brief visits. It was a huge blessing in so many ways: 1) even with my few church friends it is so easy to feel lonely and isolated and I needed to have friends and be a friend; and 2) I actually got to leave work early and play a little. Thanks to the added benefit of the use of Chef Aaron's car I got to drive around and know Dubai a whole lot better. For example, I can probably get to the airport with my eyes closed. Although I don't really recommend it because there are thousands of crazy drivers and one must be alert and aggressive. Thanks to a few driving adventures in the NYC I was fully prepared to honk, cut people off and gesture all at the same time.

With my first guest, Carlynne, I got to do the most exploring. She was game for anything, so I got to pick out our destinations:

Like Cafe Blanc, a chic-looking Lebanese restaurant in Dubai Mall. We ate hommous, pita, tabbouleh, kebbeh, and cleansed our palates with rose water tea in some fancy cups (see above). Lebanese food is the best Arabic food--don't let anyone convince you otherwise. I'm not saying that because of any bias, anyone here will tell you that.

The Dubai Mall is the largest mall in the world, and it is filled with some pretty fancy stores like Hermes and Jimmy Choo. I think there is a Gap, but it is tucked away in a far-to-reach corner. Like most largest-in-the-world shopping centers, Dubai Mall has other attractions like spectacular fountains, an ice-skating rink, amusement parks, and also has a pretty large aquarium (with a shark tank). Since I've been to this particular mall a few times on my own, I figured that having a guest meant that I needed to seek out a new place to see fish. Like the Atlantis Hotel on the Palm Jumeirah. The hotel and its aquarium tried to replicate what the lost city of Atlantis might be like--well at least what it might be like the minds of architects, engineers and designers. It was fancy and interesting.

While this particular venue perhaps wasn't as scientifically informative as, say, the Seattle Aquarium, it did have really large fish that liked to pose for the camera. Seriously, this one saw my camera and struck that menacing pose. This aquarium doesn't really need to be informative, I guess, when it is housed in a pretty spectacular hotel

on a pretty spectacularly man-made island the shape of a palm tree. Seriously, google it.

While Carlynne was here, the sun wasn't. Some dust storm in Saudi caused us to have murky overcast weather. It was not an excuse, to dampen our fun. So off we went to see a movie at the Gold Class Cinema. I've already blogged about sitting in recliners and being waited on while watching a movie, so you know it is an activity worth repeating. Dubai has a few other destinations worth repeating, like the Madinat Jumeirah. I went to the Madinat for the Keane concert in July, but I didn't explore the souks and canals because that obviously wasn't the purpose of the visit. Thanks to guests, I had an excuse to return. This is a newer resort area with lovely hotels, lots of restaurants, and a souk full of regional antiques and souvenirs. Despite the flagrant newness, the area is beautiful and incredibly peaceful. It also has impressive views of the Burj al Arab, the world's only 7-star hotel. (That would be the modern, pointy thing in the image below.)

Carlynne was not the only guest I took the Madinat, my former roommate Carrie was here for an eight-hour layover and we went to one of the bars for their tasty mocktails. (Due to the Arabic tradition of teetotal-ling, mocktails are served everywhere. I'm taking notes for my next mocktail party...when I get out and explore again.) Carrie's layover began at around 11pm and ended at 7am, so her visit was filled with nightlife-esque activities. We started at the Al Reef Lebanese 24-hour bakery for flat bread with cheese and/or zaatar, baklava, and flirting with attractive German fellows sitting by themselves. (Oh yes, we know how to have a good time.) Then we went in search of mocktails in fancy faux-ancient Arabic settings where we talked, giggled, reminisced and caught up over fruity beverages. Then we had to take naps. Her visit was a terribly good excuse to stay up all hours of the night and then leave work early the next day to "recuperate."
But there is still so much to do and see like dune bashing on a desert safari, camel races, a cricket match, waterparks... Some of y'all will just have to come out and visit me so I can do some of these things. No excuses...

I Was Really Hoping to Live by the Foot of that Mountain

So you watched the video clip and went straight to iTunes to buy a copy of that song, only to find out that iTunes doesn't carry it (along with a majority of the last 25 years of A-ha music). That was the tragedy I met up with today. So after spending a relatively large portion of my paperwork time watching/listening to videos on youtube I came up with a solution to this musical predicament. Since I know you were all planning on getting this song, I will pass along the info. You can purchase and download the album from their Web site. You will have to buy the whole album (but it's worth it) and then you will have to transfer the files to iTunes (where they will not let you edit information apparently or maybe I just terribly iTunes inept). But when it costs you 6.45 Euros, it sure looks like a pretty good deal.

Ok. That's enough A-ha for the moment. I swear, my next post will have pictures of Dubai in it!

Nostalgic

There are only two things I remember from Jessica Ketteridge's 10th birthday party:

1) I gave her a "My Little Pony" figurine that she could paint. Everyone else gave her more "tween" type items, although I doubt that the "tween" market was as big then as it is now. Nonetheless Tiger Beat did exist and I imagine that was the inspiration for her other, more trendy gifts. Looking back, I am not surprised she ended our friendship soon thereafter.

2) Instead of watching any movies, we watched the Grammy's award show that her parents had recorded earlier in the week. This was the mid-80's, and we were all excited to catch the performance of one band in particular, A-ha. Thanks to the fully-functioning "stop," "rewind" and "play" buttons, we watched the "Take on Me" performance innumerable times, swooning and giggling as only 9 and 10 year-olds can.

I was fortunate to have an older sister who had in her possession a copy of the tape from which the aforementioned song came. It was the first track on side "A" and pretty much the only song that I remember listening to. Maybe once in a while we got tired of hitting the rewind button and actually listened to the whole cassette. I think there was a song on the other side that was pretty decent; it was just too much work to look for it when we got tired of "Take on Me." Soon other bands entered the American airwaves, and we (my sister and I), and pretty much the general American population forgot to look for other songs that this hit 80's band from Norway might have recorded.

Fast forward to 2009, and now I live in Dubai, and I listen to a radio station that likes to insert a few obscure songs/groups into their typical line-up of hits. I appreciate that this station will forgo playing the same obnoxiously ubiquitous Lady Gaga for something better, although not exactly Top-40. One day they played a song that I really, really liked, and to my surprise it was a new song from A-ha. Since I don't know if this song has reached the North American continent, I thought I'd share it. Just in case you, like me, forgot to look for new A-ha songs post-"Take on Me."



Of course I am a little miffed that now I have 20 years of A-ha music that I need to catch up on.

My July Habit

At the end of June I acquired a free T.V, and gift that resolved my inner debate on whether or not I should purchase one. Considering it would take a kind benefactor to buy one, I was quite pleased that I found a benefactor who was willing to give me one. For free. (This lady was leaving Dubai for good, and I received a whole bunch of free stuff as well. Yeah!) The television set also came with a DVD player and I was content enough to sit at home watching all the DVDs I brought from the states (or borrow the ones available for rent at my gym--that's right my gym where I exercise), but my landlord thought this was not good enough and arranged for me to get a box that would hook up to the satellite dish.

I wasn't too sure I wanted it. First of all, the satellite box-thingy was not free, plus I could easily see myself flipping channels for hours on end in the evening--not writing the blog, not reading good literature, and not going to bed on time. But the Tour de France was quick approaching, so I consented.

When the Tour began on July 4th, when you all were celebrating Independence Day with barbecues and ice cream, I had to go online to read the first stage--as it unfolded--on velonews.com. It wasn't the ideal way to watch my favorite sporting event, but better than nothing. I even figured I would fare quite well without a satellite connection after all.

Luckily for me, my landlord came through, and one evening a Pakistani gentleman not only hooked up my box, but he also found all the English language channels and moved them up to the front of the dial--as well as including a French channel for me--and deleted the surprisingly large number of porn channels. (It was astonishing since the country blocks Web sites like Flicker and other relatively harmless sites because there may be innapropriate images, yet they had not managed to get rid of the actual harmful content on the satellite. I guess that's harder to block...).

The very next day I was watching the Tour in French, and that day's stage was a mighty thrilling one to watch. Cervelo Test Team's Heinrich Haussler was in a solo breakway for a large portion on that rainy, hilly stage, which he was able to win by a large margin. Actually being able to see his face holding back victory tears as he crossed the finish line nearly made me well up with joy for him. Reading does not make up for watching moments like this.

I am pretty sure there are only about two of you who care about my Tour fascination, but I will write a little bit about this year's Tour anyway.

1. This year I officially stopped worshipping at the Church of Lance. Oh sure, I am very grateful to him for helping me love professional cycling, and his organization does wonderful things for cancer patients, but he's been gone from the peloton for a while and I met other cyclists that I prefer. And other teams with a lot less drama...

2. I got very annoyed with the goings on at Team Astana. Everyday Velo News was full of the latest "who's the team leader?" drama. First it's Alberto Contador, next its Lance Armstrong, then it's whoever is strongest. And then when the strongest contender (not Lance) exerted himself, it was all about that awful rogue Contador. Enough already! Go Bradley Wiggins! Go Schleck Brothers! Go anyone else!

3. The Schleck Brothers, Team Saxo Bank's powerful duo, were very entertaining to follow on the last week's mountain stages. I loved how they worked together. Sadly, they weren't strong enough to topple Contador, but Andy Schleck did get 2nd place and the white jersey (best young rider). He'll win the Tour soon.

4. Garmin-Slipstream is not responsible for George Hincapie not getting the yellow jersey. This was a seriously lame piece of drama. Hincapie misses out on the yellow jersey by five seconds and everyone wants to blame Garmin because they moved up to the front of the peloton. So what. The only reason it was such a big deal is because it happened to George Hincapie. If someone else missed it by five seconds, the media would have said "Oh well, tough loss, better luck tomorrow." But no, since it was Lance's supposed "best bud in the peloton" it became a major inconsequential issue.

5. Fabian Cancellara proved once and again that he is an awesome cyclist. He can time trial, he rides in the breakaways, and he can help get his fellow teammates (the Schleck's) up and over the mountains. And he's not ugly.

That's it. Now what am I going to do with my time?

This Is How I Make the Big Bucks...or Just the Bucks

I thought I'd share some photos of cakes that I've done. The one above was a going-away cake for a guy that was a total Metalhead. It had the looongest inscription I had ever written. It practically covered the top of this 12" red velvet cake. I drew a chain border on the bottom and added spikes to complete the heavy metal look. I am really glad the spikes worked out. Our frosting has a tendency to get a soupy the longer I work with it. Thanks to a whole bunch of powdered sugar, the spikes worked!

I didn't want to do this design, but the customer insisted. Since I wasn't at the bakery to put my foot down, I got stuck with it. Generally I try to avoid drawing people on cakes. Cartoons, yes. People, no. I searched for a long time online to find a really cartoonish girl with a shopping bag that could be pulled off without massacring the face. I found an all-black sillhoete, and improvised. I was happy with the results, but at the same time totally frustrated. Now I can't tell people "no" when they want a person on the cake.

This cake was for the birthday of one of Dubai's gossipy magazines. I hate icing rectangle cakes.

The birthday girl brought in a picture of this beach/sea-themed cake. I tried to follow her drawing exactly. I have done better aquarium-type cakes. I just don't have a picture of said cake.

I was worried about this one as well, because the lady who ordered it would not listen to me. I had to tell her five times that we didn't use marzipan, fondant, or airbrushes. Luckily she liked it!

Here's the top view of the map I made.

This little face belongs to Princess Lillifee. Yeah, I haven't heard of her either. I think she's a Central European cartoon character or something. This was also rather nervewracking because 1) it's a face and 2) all I had to go on was a 1" square image. Normally when I draw on cakes, I make a stencil and trace the image on the cake because I don't draw with pencils particularly well, and buttercream poses more of a challenge. This character was a series of stencils that when laid on top of eachother made the face of Princess Lillifee. I was quite pleased with myself over this one. And it marks the first time the customer called me to tell me how much she like it.

Anyway, that's pretty much what I do. Along with icing cupcakes, ordering supplies, tracking inventory...I don't have pictures of the rest of my tasks.