All That I know is I'm Breathing

I should be searching the Web for flights to Dubai, but instead I thought I would catch up on everyone's blogs. Then I got inspired to write on my own little blog. I have no stories, but just a need to write something.

The song currently on my iPod is Ingrid Michaelson's "Breathing." It is a gorgeous song, and 500 bazillion times better than the Titanic theme song that is being played at this internet cafe a.k.a. my second home. I must admit that I have repeated "Breathing" quite a few times. It is entirely fitting for the things flitting around in my head.

I am supposed to purchase a plane ticket to Dubai for March 25th. I am excited to be leaving the bakery here, but sad to leave a city I've only seen glimpses of. I am thrilled to go to a new work environment, but concerned that I will hate it there too. I guess with all jobs and places one leaps to, it will always be a gamble. It may not work out. I may have to go home with my head down and with a few more creases in my foreward. All the uncertaintity mingled with current disappointments is disrupts my sleep and confuses my thoughts. So I have to remind myself to keep breathing.

Part of me feels like I have totally failed here, and thus I am gun-shy about showing up at a busy bakery run by a friend. I don't want to fail there either. I am usually a girl who tries to make lemonade (or a nice lemon tart) out of the lemons handed her. But here my lemons were wormy and rotten. I salvaged what I could and made a few friends, saw relics from ancient civilizations, and got two rambunctious boys to sing a couple of Primary songs. That little bit of tangy lemon was so good, but it didn't outweigh the unusable mess of that awful bakery and I have to throw it all away.

So after all the meltdowns, I have to go forward, keep breathing, and try again. I hope Dubai will be better. I know I will probably end up working a lot more than I am here. But I also know that the bakery is run by much better people. People who are concerned enough about my welfare to make sure I have an apartment when I arrive--an apartment with actual appliances.

I guess I should go look for plane tickets now. I need to get out of this place because while I am trying to just keep breathing, I hate breathing in my neighbor's Marlboro fumes.

The internet gods are finally smiling on me!

In the following posts you will find pictures. Lots! More than one! Actually about five per post, as it is all that blogger will let me post. Yeah!

Now for some quick news. My job sucks and I will be moving to another bakery in Dubai by the end of this month. Provided that my boss doesn't find a way to subterfuge me into staying. (Which would be a horrible mistake. I have a knack for pushing people away and being just plain hard to be around.) There is pretty much nothing he could do to get me to stay. The week of Valentine's I had to stop being in denial and realize that working 15-18 hour days for a guy who discounted all my advice and opinions as fatigue, illness, and PMS; who forgets that his employees are humans and need lives outside of work; and breaks promises made in employment contracts is not someone I want to work with.

So the bakery creator, who is based in Jordan, is sending me to work with my friend Aaron in Dubai. I should be there for four months, and if things go well I will work at a new shop in Abu Dhabi. I will miss my church branch, and especially my primary kids. Fortunately, everyone in the congregation is supportive...even though that means one of them will have to work with the primary kids...

Anyway, enjoy the pictures! There will be more soon (now that I've managed to figure this out). This whole project has taken more than an hour. One hour sitting in a smoky internet cafe with power anthems and love songs from the 80's and 90's playing in the background.

The laundry room also known as my kitchen. Since I have no appliances that make food (my little single burner died shortly after its purchase) the room has become my laundry room.

I do make peanut butter sandwiches in there. So I guess in an itty-bitty way it is still a kitchen.

The bamboo room has the best views of the sea. It also leaks; hence the collection of bowls and buckets at the end of the room. We have had thunderstorms everyday for over a week, and I have collected a lot of water.

This is my empty living room. As you can imagine, I don't spend too much time in here. It's basic function these days it to be a long, wide hallway and to collect dust. It's sad, really. There is a lot of unrealized potential in there.

This is my bedroom and my bed. I spend most of my time in here, sleeping mostly. But I now have a DVD player in my computer again so I get to watch movies if I get home early enough. The bed is comfortable.

This is the view from the bamboo room. The buildings below are from the American University of Beirut's campus. The belltower marks the hour--every hour. It woke me up on my first nights in the apartment.

I like my apartment, but let's be honest, I hate living in it. Mostly because I don't live in it; I just sleep and shower. My boss said I would have appliances and furniture in April, but there is no way that is happening. It is just another promise he has no intention of keeping. It's one of the reasons that I made that decision to be transfered to another bakery in Dubai. I'll miss this little place, but I look forward to the chance of having a fridge.

This picture was taken in Ashrafiyeh, a neighborhood I got to know when I lived there for one month at my friend Kristin's house. You can't really make it out, but the glowing sign is for Dou Dou Chinese Restaurant. An eyebrow-raising name,but pretty good Chinese food.

I live about a five-minute walk from the Mediterranean. I have had time to go down there once, and it was at night. It was still nice to hear crashing waves, feel the spray on my face, and see what the downtown looks like all aglow.

I hope I can come home with a nice persian rug...like this one.

The old buildings are usually inspired by either Ottoman architecture or Islamic.

These quirky stringed instruments are called auods, and are heavily present in Middle Eastern music. The Walton's, my missionary friends, invited me to a concert that was all traditional Lebanese music, and the above instruments probably made up a quarter of the orchestra. The music was fabulous.

This is Hamra Street. I live pretty close to this street, and it is usually where I head for dinner. I like Bread Republic because I can get a nice bowl of soup (lentille citron is favorite) and some slices of real bread. So good. Maybe that's where I will go tonight.

Details from the fancy and beautiful mosque in downtown Beirut. It is lovely, especially at night. The blue strip runs around the perimeter of the building, and is a chapter from the Koran. This mosque is actually pretty new; it was commissioned by the assinated Prime Minister Hariri, and only opened maybe two years ago.

A street in a more French-esque neighborhood with a lot of tiny restaurants and bars. I ate here once at a nice pizza place called Margherita. The best Italian-styled pizza I've had...since my trip to Italy seven years ago.

Here's that Mosque. Somehow my pictures got all jumbled. I am glad the picture turned out.

Beirut sits on top of ancient Beirut. (Kind of like Seattle, in a way.) This is a picture of some Roman baths that were unearthed. I hear there is a place for Turkish baths around here. I will have to see about indulging.

This is Rehani. He's in love with me, and for some reason I can't convince him otherwise. He is now back in Jordan, and I hope that distance will make the heart forget. (oh please, oh please) He's actually a great guy, and if he weren't a 20-year old muslim that didn't speak English maybe it would work out.

This is Rehani (again) with out barista Mansour, who likes to go by the name Vince. He claims it is an exact translation. I stated that I had no idea that "Mansour" meant "used car salesman" in Arabic. Yes, they are playing with knives. In the U.S. this would be grounds for dissmissal. Here...it's just good fun, even when someone does lose an eye.

Again with the knives. I think Rehani is just showing off. I didn't like this pose at first. (The guys tend to be mean to Rashid, but our dishwasher was eager for the shot. Boys. I just realized that I forgot to post another picture of Rashid. He is from Darfur, Sudan and has zero body fat. I was pretty sure he ran marathons when I first saw him. He's tough and wirey and could probably beat up just about anyone. Good thing he's about as gentle as a lamb. He speaks about three words of English, but with sign language, we manage to communicate rather well.

This is me the first day we opened. Oh, if I only knew what I had gotten myself into. For starters, the pants I am wearing are missing. I sent them out to be washed and they never returned. Now I wash my clothes by hand.

Smatterings of Frosting

Here is a selection of cakes I have iced while I've been in Beirut. I thought I had more photos to share, but I guess someone took pictures with their camera and not mine. Unfortunately, I did not have my camera when I iced special Saudi Arabia-themed cupcakes for the Saudi royal family. My boss took pictures, and maybe if we fast, pray and sacrifice a small animal he will remember to email them to me before I leave.

It's called shitta for a reason and other tidbits

Saturday night we had the mother of all rainstorms, minus the edifice-shaking thunder and lightning. Around nine o'clock I was sitting on my (cold) marble counter eating some Lebanese stew when I heard the skies open and water rush onto the city of Beirut. Curious, I walked a few steps to the bamboo room to take a peak at the goings on outside. (It is called the bamboo room because there is bamboo on the ceiling. Pictures to follow prior to the millenium.) Needless to say, I was grateful to be indoors because the rain was falling harder than I have ever seen before. Although it was night, I was able to make out the rain intensity thanks to the spotlights on the American University of Beirut's (AUB) belltower. It looked like buckets were being poured from the heavens as the water gushed from the cloud cover. I watched for about five minutes and returned to my stew that had gotten cold. (Don't worry I have a handy-dandy single burner to heat up my food. Oh yes, I am getting a kitchen one burner at a time!)

For some reason the walls in my room magnified the sound of the rainbombs (raindrops is too dainty of a term). Sleeping through the surround-sound of the storm did not make for easy sleeping and I had wierd dreams about cats at my friend Kelsey's house. (I am pretty sure Kelsey does not have a single cat; I think cats were on my mind because earlier in the evening I wondered what the city's million stray cats were doing to stay out of the weather. Yes, I wanted to bring one or five home with me.) During the dream I envisioned a leaky roof and shortly thereafter I woke up. At five thirty in the morning the rain was still as loud and strong as it was when I ate dinner. It had not stopped. I remembered my dream and decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to see if I had any leaks. After all, I do live on the top floor. Lo and behold, it turns out that my dream was indeed visionary because there was a river of water on the bamboo room's floor. My first thought was that one of the gigantic windows was not fully closed. Then I heard the drips. Oh no, this amazon came from the ceiling. I grabbed the mop and a bucket, and cleaned the floor, and then precariously placed my little red bucket to catch the rain on the inside of my apartment. I went back to bed, and woke up at 7:30, only to find another little stream had developed from a new spot while I was sleeping.

Fortunately the storm had stopped by the time I woke up. The sun was brilliant, and the sky was clearer than I had ever seen it in Bierut. (There is a pollution issue.) It didn't last, and it was raining again in a couple of hours, but just not as strong. It is still a little rainy, but definitely not as torrential.

Now for the tidbits:
1. Arabic words that make me giggle: shitta = rain; "key fuk" = "how are you" (to a male); ma'ass = scissors.

2. I have seen a few movies since I have been here, of course they are delayed. Some theaters are showing "Over Her Dead Body" and I believe that one is already on dvd in the states. Some movies are not that delayed, however. The best thing about the cinema is that it only costs about $6. I haven't payed that little for an evening film since high school. Plus you can bring in your take out meals. Plus it is all assigned seating. Yep, that means when Harry Potter 6 comes out I will only have to buy my ticket early to get the good seats. No need to elbow people for the best seats.

3. Lebanon is a cash-based society, and while the country has its own currency US dollars are widely accepted. I have the Lebanese currency, and the conversion down pretty well, but I get a little flumoxed at the bakery when people hand me a mix of currencies and I have to figure it all out. It seems that people prefer to carry the American cash, and the most popular denomination: the $100 bill. I have never seen so many grinning benjamins in my whole entire life. People consistently pay for their baked goods with one hundred dollar bills. Maybe it is just me, but I always feel a little awkward carrying large sums of cash, especially in large notes. Maybe I feel that if the bills are smaller, no one will know what I have (which never is a lot). Call me crazy, but I am good with $4o max in my wallet. Any more makes me nervous. Going to the cash machine is pretty interesting too, because you know how the withdrawal selections usually start at $20 and then go up? Here, they start at $100. I feels so conspicuous getting money out. I look over my shoulder to make sure no one sees me pull a $100 bill from the machine. The funny thing is, I am only pulling $100, and everyone else is taking a whole lot more. I have hung out with folks carrying an alarmingly high amount of dough. It's like I'm hanging out with drug dealers or the mafia. Don't worry, I'm not. It's just the society.

4. Lebanon is not a country filled with opium addicts. While I can't say that there isn't one or two hiding out somewhere, my first impressions of the country was that there was a good deal of opium getting smoked, and in public to boot. The misconception comes from the nargeleh or hubbly bubbly pipes/bongs/weird things with hoses that are ever present on sidewalks, cafes, and peoples' houses. Hubbly bubbly is some wierd flavored tobacco that gets inhaled through steam...or at least that's what I've been able to gather from watching people smoke it. I must say that it isn't a very attractive habit. It smells better than cigars, pipes, and/or cigarettes, but the pipe/hose hanging out of people's mouths is a little odd. Pictures to follow...you know whenever I can get things to work.

Let's hope this works!! It doesn't.

I had a plan. A perfect plan. Now that I have my nifty new apartment, I was finally going to post pictures. I still don't have access to the internet in my place, so I walked to a cafe that has free wireless internet with the full intention of posting at least a couple of pictures for all of you. OK, so blogger can be a little slow at posting images with super fast internet, try posting pictures with Lebanese slow speed (think dial up speed). After five minutes waiting for my picture to post I gave up when the thing showed o sign of budging. I may try again, but I only have two hours of free access and then I get shut down. Je suis tellement desolee.

So yes, as I mentioned I have finally moved into the apartment. I did end up with the one with the blue shutters, and it really is lovely. It is a one bedroom apartment with a small little kitchen, a living room, bathroom (that is tons bigger than the NYC bathroom), and a sunroom that I believe was once the patio. Don't even worry, I still have two other patios. The sunroom is the room with the view of the Mediterranean Sea and the American University of Beirut campus and its belltower.

The place has a very warm feel to it, thanks to the pale yellow walls. While I don't normally love yellow, it is 500 times better than stark white. I currently only have bedroom furniture: a full sized bed (that is not as big as US full sized beds) and a nice large closet, both in dark dark wood. My bedspread is nice, although it isn't what I would have normally chose. It is yellow with big pink roses. It's a little too Laura Ahsley for my taste, but seriously it was the best option. Everthing else was horrifying. I probably won't get my living room furniture for a month, and will hopefully get my kitchen appliances at the end of next week. I don't love the idea of not having a fridge or an oven. I am sick sick sick of eating out. I am now storing soy milk at the bakery so I can at least have a nice bowl of cereal to start out the day.

I joined a gym today. It is so necessary. I think I will even be getting a personal trainer, since they only cost $25 a session. Not bad, eh? It is kind of a necessity for me since I work in a bakery that makes lemon bars.

Primary is going well. I have only had all three kids once so far. I like it better when they are all there. I feel sorry for them when I have just one. I am not that entertaining in French. Though I think the kids do get a kick out my "Book of Mormon Stories" hand motions. Last week I spoke in church, so I ended up showing a video for the primary lesson. A talk, Sharing Time, and a Primary lesson are a little too much for one person. (PS and by the way: I was the only speaker.)

That's the update. I may try to post a picture again, so cross your fingers...

I've Never Bought a Closet Before

It is an interesting adventure trying to log on to my blog account. While you guys in the USofA get the blue Blogger log-in strip in English for easy navigation. I have it in Arabic. The first time I tried to log in after my arrival, I nearly gave up after 10 minutes. Then I remembered that Arabic speakers read right to left, so I should choose the icons on the other side. Victory! Of sorts. There are two things to choose, and I usually can't remember which one to pick. Anyway, I was glad to have some time tonight to catch up on everyone's blogs. The internet was surprisingly fast (everyone else at the cafe is more interested in shooting up the counter-terrorists in the wonderful? world of online gaming than searching web). So I checked email, finally filled out a change of address form online (thanks Mom and Dad for watching my mail while I am gone), and decided to write a nice, lengthy post. The caveat: I ate something that made me sick, and my intestines have informed me that I may need a bathroom post haste. Forgive the typos as I attempt to write this out quickly.

The good news is that there is an apartment in Beirut waiting for me to move in. Hiphiphooray! Although there were no lightbulbs in the place when I looked at it, I knew it was for me...all the way down to the pretty blue shutters. The place is in the middle of being refurbished, and so I get to pick out appliances and furniture that I don't have to pay for, except the tv for which I will pay half. So worth it for a modest, wall-mounted flat screen. In Beirut, the vast majority of appartments come already furnished, which for people like me is a pretty good deal. However the furniture is pretty bland and generic--almost 3rd rate motel furniture, and the linens leave MUCH to be desired. Picking out stuff that I can live with is a dream come true, and for my boss Nabil and his cousin Salah, pretty much a whole bucket of fun for them, as they discuss decorating and entertainment options. I will not be surprised if, during the course of decorating, the apartment turns into a hangout complete with, heavy metal posters, a PS3 and fridge next to the couch. That is why I volunteered to join them in their decorating excursions.

Since Salah's family owns a building, they know where all the affordable furniture places are--places that Nabil didn't want me to visit. Salah insisted, so I got to go to a whole new part of Beirut, a part that pretty much is the ghetto. As we parked, they told me not to speak English. I immediately assumed that there would be some haggling, and my language would interfere with the honest prices, so I agreed to speak in French. The store, poorly-lit with ancient fluorescent bulbs, seemed to be the Mecca of generic Beirut furniture. There were beds, closets, chests of drawers all arrayed, each with an attempt to be styled with odd carvings. I picked out the least-styled, dark wood options, even though the armoir was a little on the small side. Salah asked if it would be big enough. I replied that I had no clue since I had never purchased a closet before.

We then went across the street to look at sofas. We all decided that red would be the best option and fortunately found a simple, red L-shaped couch hidden amongst the maze of tapestry and/or animal print living rooms suites all trimmed with four-inch multi-colored trim. I understood why most furnished apartments were so bland, this was the other option: furniture designed by people obviously having a bad day.

The prices were haggled and we left; some of us rather angrily due to the prices. "These guys don't like Americans," explained Nabil. "Really?" I asked, assuming these guys like our money. Umm no. These guys really don't like Americans, which was why I was not allowed to speak in English. Apparently the whole ghetto shared their sentiments. I immediately put the hood of my sweater over my head...just in case. Then we headed to a better part of town, with much better prices. After I picked out things that I liked, the two guys spent the rest of the week buying stuff. I hear that I at least get to officially pick the linens, please oh please. Thne NAbil says he found another apartment that is closer to the bakery. (The other one is about a 10-minute walk, and has a sea-view, and did I mention the pretty blue shutters?) Whatever happens, I am still buying that tv.

Last week I had my first lesson with the Primary kids. No, they wouldn't sing with me, but I did get them to do the actions while I attempted to sing "Book of Mormon Stories" in French. Luckily those hand gestures are fun and universal. During the Sharing Time portion of the day, I showed the kids pictures of prophets and other important religious folk to discuss how Heavenly Father has a plan for us. This went well until I got to Moses. They knew who he was for the most part. I jogged their memories telling them that he freed the Isrealites from Egypt. The kids were not impressed, and made some remarks that made me think they would rather he kept them there as slaves. Oops. I will need to remember that Lebanon doesn't care for their neighbors to the South. Not that I blame them. That nation would start WW3 over kids throwing rocks. I have other views, but I'll keep that rant for another day. But if you are concerned for my safety, please know I am fine, and the Israeli jets flying overhead everyday are not dropping anything.

I ate a fabulous Lebanese meal the other day--no, not the cause for my recent intestinal discomfort--and it was delicious. For all you hummous lovers out there, you don't even know how good it can be! My next post will inform you all the details of the pad, and then you can all make airline reservations to come visit!

I suppose everyone deals with technical difficulties for a month now and again.

Here is a quick update to let you all know that I am not dead. That whole Israel/Hamas thing is far from me, and let's hope it stays that way. If Hezbolla gets involved then I will have a different tale to tell. But since I am safe, let's talk about my life in Beirut.

1. I still don't have an apartment. But I no longer live in a hotel. A girl from the branch is letting my stay at her apartment while she is touring Turkey. Pray that I get an apartment soon. Having an apartment means that I can unpack, get connected to the internet, upload pictures, get/feel settled.

2. I had a white Christmas! I was fortunate to have a day off on Christmas, and the missionary couple in my branch invited me to drive up to the ski resorts with them. The drive was gorgeous, and the slopes were covered in snow. We ate lunch at the Intercontinental Hotel, and rubbed shoulders with shieks and other wealthy arabs. My lunch (a buffet) cost $70. I went back many times to get $7o worth.

3. I got called to be the Primary President of my branch. I will be over 3 children, all of whom speak French. This goes to show that you should always be careful what you pray for. This will be an interesting calling, since Primary is still new to the kids (aged 7-9). According to the former Primary President, they don't like to sing. I have no clue what I am going to do with them. Any suggestions would be helpful.

4. It is kind of chilly. I wished I packed more of my long-sleeved shirts.

5. We just got a third baker! This was the best Christmas present. Now I can decorate and organize more, and do things I was hired to do.

6. I have taken more pictures! I still don't know when I will be posting them.

The internet cafe guys probably want to go home. I think I am the last one here. Take care!

Still no pictures, but at least I can write!

I still don't have an adapter for my computer, but I should soon. My tour guide/bosses' brother Wassim was going to take me tonight but it appears that he is working late. I'll accept that excuse because he's been super kind taking me to church and the store, etc. In fact, he showed me the pretty part of Beirut on Saturday night. After 16 long hours of baking, we went to the fancy downtown--the area that invokes the reference "Paris of the East." It has been renovated since the civil war, but the late Prime Minister Hariri did a bang-up job making the buildings appear as they used to, but more modern. It was so beautiful. I also saw some Roman ruins and a gorgeous mosque. I took pictures!

Sunday I went to church. As you may imagine there are not a lot of Mormons in Beirut, so we met in a small apartment. It reminded me of my mission. Everyone was so friendly, and it made me feel like I was home. Everyone was relieved to hear that I speak French, since it is one of the languages used in the branch Arabic and English being the others.) The only Americans there that day were the missionary couples, the rest were Lebanese and Philippino. The one odd thing about church: it was TWO HOURS LONG. I guess that's what happens when you have few announcements. I was a little floored by the concept, but I am not complaining!

I still live at the hotel, but I should hopefully have an apartment next week. According to Nabil, he's having some poor student kicked out of his apartment so I can live there. I checked to make sure he was kidding, but I don't think he was. How incredibly Emily Gilmore of him.

Anywhoo. I need to get up to bed. Not sure when I will be able to post pictures, but I will try to take some for the day that I can!!

So, you want to work at a cupcake bakery in Beirut?

Greetings! I made it! I am utterly exhausted and should go to bed, but I wanted all of you to know that I am well.

My trip was eventful. I have bad travel karma, and this trip was no exception. For starters my ticket said I was flying on Middle Eastern Airlines, and upon arriving at JFK my cab driver and I found no sign identifying which terminal I needed. After asking around and visiting a couple of international terminals, we were informed that the first leg of my voyage was actually Virgin Atlantic, and I would take MEA to Beirut. That is...if Virgin Atlantic was on time. It wasn't, and the delay meant that I would miss my connecting flight, so the kind VA workers rerouted me. Then I waited and waited while the delay continued to be a three hour delay. (Why do I go to the airport on time?) Fortunately VI and my new connecting airline BMI had free entertainment and free food. I slept for all but two hours of the VA flight, and on the way to Beirut I sat next to too nice Sudanese ladies, one of whom had a baby that was quite taken with me...or my watch. Either way, it was a good flight--albeit slightly delayed as well. My luggage, however didn't make the flight even though it had plenty of time. I finally got my bags back yesterday. That's right folks, a full week later. When I finally opened my luggage last night I had to resist the urge to wear everything at once.

I am sure you are wondering about my first impressions of Bierut. Well, I haven't see too much because I have been working nonstop. But the parts I have seen remind me a little of Guayaquil, Ecuador. I hope to have pictures soon. Everyone is fantastically hospitable. I think I have only had to pay for myself twice, and it was just water. Lebanese speak an interesting mixture of Arabic, French and English. They are reallly beautiful people, but there seems to be a high proportion of people who have severe, and I am not exxagerating, severe unibrows. I hope to get some pictures soon.

The bakery opened on Sunday and has been a roaring success. This is fabulous and stressful all at the same time. It is fabulous because I like the owners and I want them to be successful, but stressful because no one was prepared for the response. The fellow who founded the company works in Amman, and their business is mostly special orders--about 95%. So they aren'y hugely busy. We are 95% foot traffic, and the kitchen was not set up for it. In fact there is only one other baker besides myself, two baristas, two cleaning staff, and Abed who has a very vague role but may be trained to bake eventually. Fortunately, I used to work at a popular bakery, so I have been employing some organizational tactics that have helped. I am tired, though. All but the baristas work two shifts a day. We are beyond exhausted.

The staff is a lot of fun. The other baker is Rihani from Amman, Jordan. He is about 21 years old and a fabulous baker. He is also working hard at teaching me Arabic. He'll go over numbers and colors and bakery terms. I taech him Eglish as well. We work well together, despite a harsh language barrier. Our dishwasher is from the Sudan. I must say, at first I couldn't stop looking at him. He has a interestinlgy chiseled face, and I was a little in awe because I had to realize that he was real and not a National Geographic special. Our other cleaning lady is from Ethiopia, and apparently she is isn't too friendly, but because we don't speak the same language I have no clue what is going on. Our two baristas speak English pretty perfectly--just a itsy-bitsy smidgen of an accent. The a.m. barista, Mansour is bent on teaching me Lebanese Arabic, while Rihani teaches me Jordanian Arabic. And then there's Abed. After we opened he was such a pill. He wouldn't do anything except pester the Sudanese guy almost to the point of fisticuffs. I think our owner gave him a stern talking to, because he has been on his best behavior for two whole days. Plus, the stress level has gone down so we have had time to teach him recipes. I'll try to make him our prep cook--at least. The owner, Nabil, is great. He is at the bakery everyday, he buys our meals, and drives us home. He is new to the bakery industry, but I see that as a benefit because then I can get things organized my way without too much intereference. He does listen, so hopefully things will continue to progress well.

I am going to end this blog post now, since it is getting long (and there are no pictures), and I really need to get to bed. I am sitting in the hotel manager's office, and I don't want to overstay my welcome.

It's Official!!

You may (or may not) be pleased to know that I have finally received my airline tickets to Beirut. I leave tomorrow (Wednesday the 26th) at 10:25pm. I will have a sadly brief layover in London, and will arrive in Lebanon at 6:40pm their time. It is all feeling a little more real now. I also found out today that my friend who got me this job should be in town when I arrive. That will ease my nerves, I am sure.

I am not sure when I will get to post my first Beirut blog, so please be patient. I will write as soon as I can!

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!!

Big Move Update

I bet you are wondering when I take off. I am too! I actually don't have my tickets yet. The new boss is purchasing them, and he as promised me that I will finally have them Tuesday morning. I hope so; I am supposed to leave on Wednesday!

So in the meantime, enjoy some blogs about NYC.

Galletas and Despedidos.
In order to move to a far away locale, one must have a going away party. I did; I had a cookie-themed party, although from the looks of the above photo, I should lay of the treats. One of the first guests to arrived is my four-year old bff in the above picture. Sometimes I get to babysit her and her little sister, and I usually sit with her on Sundays. She was a huge help with the party preparations. She helped me by taking cookies of the (cooled) sheets, and by putting dough onto the cookie sheets to be baked. As you can see, she really got into it.

Her cookies turned out pretty good. Everyone dug the out of the ordinary shapes.

Below, is the proud mom af that future cookie baker.

A lot of my favorite people came to the shindig. My favorite colleague came. She is, in fact, the person who interviewed me and trained me. She is also from Washington state, thus solidifying her coolness.

At the party, I also had to say good-bye to Magnus the Lemon Tree. It was really sad, even though know he is going to a good home. I miss my little tree, even though his thorns gashed the heck out of my arm that day.

Although I am excited for the opportunity that awaits me, it is going to be hard to let go of god friends.

I also have to say good-bye the Young Women in my ward. They were very kind to throw me a party. We played a very fun version of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey;" instead of pinning any tails, they taped images of me on a map, while blindfolded. The closest to Lebanon won a prize.

I think this girl taped me on the Mediterranean. Close.

The girls made nice "recuerdos" for to remember the by. I need to remember to eat less goodies. Look what happens when you don't exercise for a month. Egads!

I think I am going to miss these girls.

The Cliffords go to West Point
One of the beauties of the autumnal parent visit is the trips upstate with all the gorgeous fall leaves. After our fun-filled Halloween in the Hudson Valley, the folks and decided to go back to the valley the following day to see the area we were lost in that night. Actually, we have a family friend who lives in West Point, so we decided to go up and visit her family and see the fortress-like military campus. Besides seeing good friends, this was an appropriate activity for dad, who is a retired army officer.
That day that we went was also the day of the Army vs. Air Force football game, which we didn't go to, but were treated with a military review and skydivers.

After the soldiers marched off the field, we walked around campus and caught the views of the colorful Valley.

West Point Academy is also part war museum as the grounds contain cannons from each of the military conflicts in which our country has participated. Here is a picture of my dad inspecting the weaponry.

The usually closed-off campus library was open to visitors on game day. The building, named after our country's third president (that would be Thomas Jefferson), contained his old desk, a pair of his boots, and his letter-writing invention. There was also a really nice statue where I learned that Jefferson had an interesting way of tying his bootlaces.

The library was lovely, but I had the most fun showing my friends three-year old daughter how to use the camera. (Aren't digital cameras a lovely toy?) The following images are her masterpieces. I think she has a gift. (I did erase about twenty pictures of one car.)

Here is the parental unit.

This is the artist's self-portraint. I can't even do self-portraits this well.

Her little, itty-bitty shoes.

That would be me.

And those are my feet.

After our lovely fall day in upstate New York, my parents and drove through the valley checking out pretty homes and quaint villages, and increasing our ability to not read NY road signs very well. Oh yes, we got a little lost again. Fortunately all roads lead to NYC.

Before Life Got Weird, I Celebrated Halloween
I mentioned in a previous post that my parents came to visit me, for the holidays. OK, just one holiday, but Halloween is one of the coolest holidays ever so the parental visit during this time of year was very important. (Plus it was nice that they were around when Beirut came calling.)

Anyway, this Halloween with the parental unit (the first since 1996 btw), was a fun one. First off, mom and dad took me to Fairway to fill up my cupboards with tasty food (food that I will not really be eating because I don't have room in my luggage for it all). Afterwards I got the folks on the subway for a delicious meal at the Chip Shop. We went to SoHo so mom could do some birthday shopping at SoHo Patch. We then grabbed a quick bite of dessert at The Bakery. Then we rushed back home to have a quick bite to eat before heading to our Halloween festivities.

The beauty of living in NYC, is that I also live close to the Historic Hudson Valley that has charming Stars Hollow-esque festivals like "Blaze" an amazing jack-o-lantern festival that had been featured in some of Martha Stewart's media.

The festival contains a gazillion pumpkins, most of which have been carved to represent a piece of a whole sculpture, like the above mammoth skeleton.

So, I don't have a very good camera for nighttime shots. (I looked for a night feature on my camera, and it still alludes me.) These are more dinosaurs.

Hatching dinosaurs.

Ok, so it wasn't just dinosaurs. I kind of got tired of taking pictures when so many turned out blurry.

The house below is Van Cortland Manor. It looks kind of eery in this shot.

At the end of the tour o' lanterns, we learned the secret to this festival is that most of the pumpkins are not real. I am sorry to reveal this huge secret, but it's probably the only way anyone would want to recreate the spectacular year after year.

The last pumpkin exhibit was the gift shop (no surprise there), but we gave in to the subtle marketing and bought scone mix...that was packaged in Spokane, WA. How ironic that my parents flew all the way to NYC to purchase scone mix they could have gotten at home.

After the festival, my parents and I participated in a time-honored family tradition of getting lost on the way home. In the past, this tradition was observed only when looking for Christmas trees, but I am glad that our inability to read road signs showed up for Halloween.