Closing Chapter

Two weeks ago I had a layover in Milan, Italy during my flight from the desert to the US. When the plane was drawing near to Milan, I saw the most spectacular view that has stuck with me ever since.

We were well above the cloud line--always amazing anyway--and the sun was rising. The colors were indescribable, each one reflecting itself onto the pillowly clouds. It was, without a doubt, the best sunrise (or set) that I'd seen in at least a year. But because of the way we were above the clouds, it looked more like the sun was setting below the clouds than rising. It hung below the horizon of clouds, and the colors rose above, painting the sky for us to enjoy. I thought for days afterwards about the sunrise disguised as a sunset.

Is that a picture of my life right now? A major chapter has come to a close. I see the brilliance of it all--as I did with the rays of color above the clouds--but it is hard for me to see and understand the source...hidden from my sight. It appears to be an end, a sunset, a closure...night is coming. When in reality, it is a new beginning, a sunrise, a dawn is on its way.

The plane turned. Just when I thought I'd seen the most spectacular, I was left breathless. The captain had steered to the right so we could view what had been straight in front of him.

The Italian Alps rising above the clouds. Remnants of the dawn's hues painted the Alps' tips and the wisps of air above them a bashful shade of pink. A full moon hung centerpiece above it all. A reminder that the fading night of my life had a beauty--unique in its own right--equal to the coming dawn I'd just seen. And the Captain of my life is still the one keeping me on course, blessing me with what He sees along the way.

A new day has dawned...but I will not quickly forget how I wrestled through the night in the desert. And that beauty emerged as a result.

The worst experience in an airport ever

I hate to say it, but I ended up leaving the desert country on a "I HATE THIS PLACE!!!" day.

Everything got finished, because God is good, and I made it to the airport exactly two hours before check in. I'd already gone to the airport twice in the last two weeks to double check the luggage situation. I was assured several times that my luggage to Turkey could weight 32 kilos (70 pounds), and from Turkey to the US 23 (50 pounds). They said my 6 foot tall piece was no problem, having an extra piece no problem, yadda yadda yadda. All was good and right in the world.

Then I actually showed up with the luggage.

It was then that I was informed that because I am holding an American passport, I am only allotted 30 kilos TOTAL. TO-TAL. I had 80. And they wanted to charge me $600 for the excess weight. I immediately began crying. I finally came to the conclusion that I would have to leave the 6 foot tall piece, and just suck it up and pay for the two suitcases. This made for a new flow of huge tears, which flustered the woman at the checkout counter. (She didn't realize that the tears were built up from lack of sleep, a stress filled week, a hundred emotions about leaving, and having JUST said goodbye to Miss Sally.) She asked her supervisor if there was anything they could do, and he cut the charge in half. I guess the emotional scene got me somewhere.

I still paid $135. Doesn't seem bad until I remember that I have to pay it all again in Turkey, plus pay for one more piece of luggage I'm picking up here. Sigh of slight frustration.

So I rush from that counter to another part of the airport to leave the 6 foot tall piece behind for Miss Sally to come pick up. I got lost while doing that, and after finding it, still had to race back over to the departures gate and go through security again. I headed towards passport control, happy that the line wasn't too long.

Then my day got worse.

The passport control man flipped through my passport once, and then a second time. The third time he went very slowly, looking at each page. He asked me where my entry stamp was and I showed him--from when I went to Oman in October.

"La. (No) That exit stamp." I looked down and sure enough it was. I flipped through and wouldn't you know--I had no entry stamp. I was there without a visa. Bad news.

"You go immigration office."

Did the tears ever start flowing then! I stood in line at the immigration office just whimpering. A little girl stared at me bewildered, and I think her mom wanted to come hug me if it would have been appropriate. All I could think was, "They're not going to let me leave! They're going to force me to stay in this stupid country. I'm going to miss all my flights, all my visits, loose all my money, and my luggage (which was checked and paid for), and I'm going to go to jail, and I don't even have my phone to call Miss Sally for help." TEARS.

I walk up to the desk and hand over my passport, still crying non-stop, unable to speak. Praying that they let me leave and that I don't miss my flight. (I still hadn't even made it through the main security check yet!) He flips through my passport several times, and then stamps my boarding ticket, but not my passport. I asked if I would get in trouble for not having an exit stamp in my passport, and he said, "You have no entry stamp. How can we give you an exit if you were never here?"

I nod, and run through security and away from passport as quickly as possible. I'm writing from Turkey, so I guess it's all okay.

On the airplane, the flight attendant forgot to feed me. I was trying to wait patiently (I was literally in the very last row), but I suddenly realized that everyone--even the people next to me had finished their food and I still hadn't been served. When I looked around to see if the cart was headed my way, and saw no cart, I turned my red, swollen from crying eyes toward the flight attendant and he very quickly brought me some food.

Are you picking up on the fact that it was NOT a good flying experience?

I won't bother telling about the two fights I almost got in with women at the Turkish airport for invading my personal space. Or how I almost died in the taxi as he went 140 kpm during rush hour traffice (not exaggerating).

However...

I'm in Istanbul! It's 40 degrees cooler (at least). I rode with the window down in the taxi just to feel the cool air. It rained as I walked down the Istaklal. Rain... Happy sigh. I had coffee with my old Turkish friend, Nina, which was wonderful. I had dinner with friends from grad school--wonderful, but wierd worlds colliding moment. And I'm now sitting with Schroomie #1. Big smiles and no tears. We won't think about how much I have to pay in the morning to get all my junk back to the US.

Because the positive side is--I'm going back to the US. Happy sigh.

Busy

Since several people have made comments as to why I haven't been online (via email, Skype or blogging), here's my response: I'VE BEEN BUSY! Beyond packing, cleaning, paying traffic bills, last minute doctor visits, last minute work, and all the goodbyes, I've also been out having some fun!

I've been shopping ALOT for different gifts and souvenirs. However... Here are some things you couldn't PAY me to purchase! Framed bats, scorpions, bugs and giant spiders? I had enough live versions in my home in Sri Lanka, don't need a framed memory, thanks!

I went to the camel racetrack one afternoon with a friend, and watched as the men excercised the camels around the track. You can see the big city sky scrapers in the background.

I don't know who came up with the name for this drink, but I sure don't want to have any!

Sweat? No, thanks!

One night we did a little tree trimming celebration at Miss Sally's.

The little blonde girl is what I call 'My Little Blond Shadow' and she was learning how to rock around the Christmas tree. It was pretty fun.

Sparky and I went out to one of my favorite places this week to do some Christmas shopping. It's sort of like a world fair. There are different pavillions decorated like countries of the world, and then merchants fly in from their countries to sell typical wares from home. I would have to say India is my favorite, but we definitely had fun in some of the other pavillions. We went to the pavillion of the Central Asian country that we've been studying their language and got in some language practice and made some friends! Good times.

This guy here, was very dramatic in selling his concoction. I thought it was chai, so I asked how much. He waved his arms and out came this liquid into the cup. He told me 5 dhs. I looked, and only had 1.5 dhs. He said no problem, and gave it to me anyway. Ummm...glad I didn't pay more, that stuff was nasty! I think it was date juice.
Gross.

One of the things I had done this week (in the four trips to beauty salons) was have my hands henna'd. Someone wrote and asked me what that meant. Henna is a plant that gets crushed up and then painted on the skin or hair as a temporary tattoo. The 'artist' draws beautiful designs all over the hands or feet with the henna (sort of like paint), and once it dries and chips off, it has stained your skin. The stain fades after a few days or weeks. I took an 11 year old friend for her birthday gift. It was quite fun.

Last night, we were in a town that is a bit more conservative than where we live, and so nearly every local we saw was covered. I got so tickled by the pedestrian crossing signs. Istead of the normal one with a man in western pants crossing, it's a man in local dress--the dishdash (I think is what it's called). So does that mean if you're not dressed like a local, you're free game to be hit when crossing?

These toilet signs have cracked me up every since I moved here.

A bunch of us went out to the sand dunes one last night for one last shi-bang together. I figured, since I started my life here out in the dunes, I should end out that way too.

It was so wonderful to get to be with friends. Sparky and I finally got some pictures of the two of us together that we both agreed on and liked. My friend in the picture that is wearing the green shirt--she and I went to school together and have no trouble saying goodbye since we always seem to bump into each other anyway.

We all had a good time playing in the sand, laughing at each other, marveling at the moonlight (it was so bright I ha a shadow!). The desert is a wonderful place and I will miss going out to it. I will miss this little band of nomads as well.

I took in a view of the sand dunes at sunset one last time.

Sparky and I had fun writing our names in the sand.

Numbers

4: Days until I return to the US
68: Gifts I bought just today
73: Horse flies I killed in my apartment this week (estimation of the new pest in 1307)
4: Visits to the beauty salon this week
45: Minutes I spent in traffic today to drive the 30 minute walk and back to the Internet office
3: Suitcases/boxes already packed and sent back to the US via wonderful people
2: Suticase/box already packed and ready to travel with me back to the US
1: Trunk to be picked up in Istanbul filled with winter clothes (and a drum)
Countless: Goodbyes already said
6: Hard goodbyes left to go
7: Joyous hellos I will say to friends next week that I haven't seen in a very long time
3.5: States (and DC) that I visit in the time span of 6 days.
8: Things left to do on my to-do list
14: Times I almost died (again) in a round-a-bout this week (estimation)
Immeasurable: frazzleness of my brain currently, joy I have to be with family
4/10: Days until I see extended/immediate family

12 days till Christmas!

Mall Madness

I read a newspaper article a few months ago that described the place where I live as the "uber-mall" of the area. True, true. Someone comes as a tourist, and we take them on a tour of the malls. With 120 degree heat...we're not going to take them to the sand dunes! So lately, I've gotten a little confused of my location while in these various malls. Muslim desert? I don't think so...

Is that a store filled entirely with Christmas decorations? Why, yes! Yes, it is! Not only that, but this past weekend, Santa came to town. And the stores all say "Merry Christmas!" in the windows. Christmas, the holiday that celebrates Christ's birth. I didn't expect to see that in a mall that also has mosques inside.
This mall decided to pretend it was the Renaissance festival and had fun masks everywhere, jugglers, and fun stuff for kids to do. It took me a while to find the mask I liked the most.
This is the one that blew my mind the most. That is a man made...ski slope...inside a mall...in the desert. Isn't that wild? It's got four different slopes, lifts, a louve run, and small bunny slopes for the kids to play on. They rent out everything, including all the necessary clothing, cause why would you have ski pants in the desert?

A mouse in the house

I think if I wrote a memoir of my time spent here in the desert, it would consist only of stories about the post office, taxi rides, and rodents.

I'd come to Miss Sally's to escape the rat hole that used to be the haven called 1307. The smell there lingers despite the eternal flame of my Yankee Candle. And Miss Sally has fresh-off-the-boat Season One of 'Lost.' So I was sitting on her couch all cozied up, wrists tight in suspense as I wonder who this guy named Ethan who wasn't on the passenger manifesto is, and why is he on the island, and what's he going to do to Claire and Charlie? Stress.

Then a tiny little movement catches my eye. I glance over to the couch and wonder if a little bug is moving under there. I pause the DVD and look closer. Not a bug.

A mouse.

Am I cursed!? Do they follow me? I mean, I enjoyed the Secrets of Nihm as a child, but seriously. This is out of control. I've seen more rodents in the last three weeks than in my entire life combined!

I ran up the stairs and told Miss Sally and her husband about the mouse. They laughed at me. "I'm serious! I saw it! A small, little mouse! And as you yourself said, where there is one, there's more!" They laughed some more and stayed where they were. I was off to fend for myself against the little squeaker. I figured the rats in my apartment could eat that guy for lunch, he was so small, so I shouldn't worry about him, and went back to Lost.

Then I heard a sound in the kitchen. I went in there to find Mr. Sally (Miss Sally's husband) behind the door with a broom. "Whatcha doin?" I asked.

"I saw your mouse. I'm trying to catch him."

I came in and was just about to shut the kitchen door when that little critter made a run straight for my flip flops! Which were on my feet! I squealed and screamed and shrieked and made every other kind of girly noise possible as I jumped onto the counter. It was from that very strategic place that I directed the operation of Dead Mouse.

"He's behind the fridge!"

"He just ran over there! Behind the trash can!"

"Oh! There he goes! Behind the bucket!"

And with one more "Oh!" Mr. Sally stomped his foot and the world came crashing down on Nicodemus the mouse. If only it'd been that easy in the 1307 with all of Nicodemus's cousins...

Just call me Mrs. Frisby...