The Rat Story (from the UAE)

My friend, Pantene, mentioned recently that she has not made an appearance on my blog yet, and bemoaned the fact that she does not have a blog name. Now she does: Pantene. Because, while she does not use Pantene, she does have Pantene hair like you see in the commercials.

I've referenced "the rats" from the UAE several times recently around her, and so I thought I would put those links in succession for anyone interested.

You can read them all on one page by clicking HERE, just make sure to scroll to the bottom of the page and read UP to get them in order. Or, click the links below to get the story in order.

The rat introduces himself into my life here.

The rat brings a friend over to play here.

The rat begins to stink here.

The rat takes a bath to get rid of the stink here.

The rat introduces himself to my language teacher, thus proving that I am not the only one who hears him, here.

I see the rat here.

The rat tries to come to visit, thus breaking the terms of agreement of our peaceful existence together, and I declare war on him here.

The rats die here. (Yes, turns out there were multiple rats.)

The rat epidemic of my life continues in some slightly humorous turn of fate here.

Yes, in 9 months of living in the UAE, I wrote about rats as many times.

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...

The bound-to-happen happened...in a round-a-bout

Well, it was only a matter of time.

The phone rang just as I was about to get started on some computer work. Mr. T, a friend here, called me and said that his battery died and could I bring some jumper cables to start him back up? I called four people before I found jumper cables (my car didn't have them either, and neither did any of the cars around him), and then hopped into the car to drive to the other side of the world to get him.

Two round-a-bouts later, the inevitable happened. The taxi in front of me pulled into the round-a-bout, I looked left and saw that I was clear, so I touched the gas to pull into the round-a-bout myself, and drove straight into the taxi's rear end. That's right, he'd stopped in the round-a-bout.

And I got a ticket for it.

He made me call the police, and when I didn't know the number, he had to get someone else to stop in the round-a-bout to tell us the number to call. At this point, I was already a little perturbed, because he had a small scape on the far right corner of his bumper. My front left corner had much more damage, but seriously? Why block a whole lane of traffic, call the cops, and go through all the hoop la for a small scrape? Grrr.

While we waited for the cops, he proceeded to explain to me in his broken English how round-a-bouts work, and why he it was okay that he stopped in one. I didn't listen. I was hot and grumpy and impatient to go rescue Mr. T on top of it all. The cops came and told us to move our cars out of the round-a-bout, and then proceeded to do paperwork. They never did ask me my version of what happened. I guess round here, if you hit someone--it's your fault.

They asked for my license and registration. Ha. My license has no photo, and states that it is valid without the photo. They were baffled by that. Good thing I had my passport on me. (And good luck to them to try and find the currently valid visa in that thing!) I pulled the registration out of the car, handed it to the policeman and waited while he looked at it. He pointed at it and then said, "Expired."

I looked down and it said, "2004/12/19." Well.

He grinned at me and said it was okay, because the insurance was up to date. (Praise the Lord!) Then he asked me, "Half insurance or full insurance?" I looked at the papers--entirely in Arabic. Ummm...full?

He finished writing up all the paperwork (in Arabic, of course) and hands me the ticket. I asked him what I had to do with it. He said, "In two weeks, you pay. You pay 100ds. No before two weeks, but no more one month. You pay."

I asked him, "Halas?" (My new favorite word. It means 'finished.')
He looked at me blankly, so I repeated, "I pay, then halas?"

He nodded and grinned. "You pay. Halas."

Two hours after he called for help, I found the stranded Mr. T and gave him the jumper cables. Two hours later, I was back at home, wishing never to drive again in this road-insane country.

Top 10 Tuesday: Thanksgiving Edition

Top Ten Tuesday has been digitally remastered to uh, Thursday...for thanksgivingish reasons. I hope you all enjoy your turkey, sweet potatoes and pumpkin. I know I'll enjoy mine. (And for those of you who wanted it, the Pumpkin Risotto recipe is posted just below. Yum Yum. Only good as a side dish, though, not a main meal).

Top Ten Non-Traditional Things I am Thankful For
(Traditional being things like Jesus, family, friends, health, home, etc. Of course I am thankful for those!)

10. The ability to read
9. Coffee
8. Rain, especially in the desert
7. That I haven't died while driving in a round-a-bout yet
6. Being able to buy pumpkin in a foreign county
5. Flip flops in warm weather and fun socks in cold weather
4. That I got this opportunity to live and work here in this crazy desert
3. That the rats are dead
2. My curly hair
1. SKYPE!!! (Do you skype? If not, why not!?)

Just so it can be said, though--I am thankful down to the pits of my core for Mom, Dad, Master Yoda, Auntie K and fam, the two Aunt S's and fam's, MEME (and I don't mean the blog tagging, I mean my wonderful grandmother) and Grandaddy, Grandaddy in Texas, the gazillion cousins, Ms Deb and fam, and all of my parent's church.

Also thankful for LO-ren, the Alma Gemea, KKW, Sparky, H & S (and third), all my scattered friends in US and abroad, S & S in C, the futebol guy, the P5, the friend here who shares the same name as Sparky but whose name shall not appear on my blog, Miss Sally, and my church here.

I am thankful for my health, and that I've not gotten seriously sick while being overseas during this last year. That I'm not suffering too bad during my six months of a stupid medication and praise the Lord, only have two months left to go. That the dentist gave me a clean bill of health once again this week--no cavities, no problems, everything's good, thank goodness. I can see, hear, walk, and use all my fingers. :)

But most importantly, and without it everything else would be naught, I am ragamuffinly grateful for my precious Jesus. He sees my heart and loves me anyway. He knew my wretchedness and chose me anyway. He is my salvation--from sin, from despair, from myself. He set me free, is setting me free, and will set me free--praise His glorious name! I am so thankful to even be able to know of Him, much less have the unspeakable privilege to know Him more and more each day. What deep mystery of love is this?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights..."

Ding dong the rat is dead

Last week I woke up one morning and realized my apartment smelled like death.

Rat death.

Remember when I was paranoid about them sealing him in? They sealed him in. And he died up there. And stunk up my apartment. I packed up a suitcase and moved out until the maintenance men could remove it. Since I'd already volunteered to dog-sit Miss Sally's dog while she went on vacation, I moved into her house early. After they removed the rat, disinfected the spot where he'd breathed his last, and sprayed air freshner all over my apartment, and I aired it out for three days...

It still smells like rat death. I think there was/is more than one up there. I have no desire to move back in. And I am an official rat hater now. If there is a club, I will sign up to join.

Top 10 Tuesday

As I am beginning to process my return to the US (in 37 days), I've also begun to embrace this place a little more. So today's list is a big hug for this place.

Top Ten Things I'm So Glad I Got to Experience HERE

10. The Indonesian exhibit
9. Watching sunsets over the water
8. Life in the desert, in a Muslim desert
7. The Chinese Circus
6. A athletic event for charity (okay, hasn't happened yet, but will in two weeks, and if I actually go through with it, it will certainly be on this list!)
5. Global Village (haven't blogged it yet)
4. Playing bridge with Miss Sally and co.
3. A friend named Sam
2. Desert safari with Sparky
1. Desert picnic with friends

Eid Muburak!

I was in the mall this evening doing normal things: buying food, arranging things with the travel agent, getting out of the house... when I noticed some not-normal activity. I was seriously bummed that I didn't have my camera. I decided it was worth running home and back (and praying the ENTIRE way that the show wouldn't be over) to capture all this on film.

I heard the ruckus first. I listened as I came up the escalator, wondering what in the world was going on upstairs. I heard chanting, "Pahk--ee--stahhn!!! Pahk--ee--stahhn!!! Pahk--ee--stahhn!!!" Either Pakistan was playing some hated rival team in soccer, or...well, I really don't know what else would cause people to chant "Pakistan" over and over here. I saw the crowd, and pressed my way in to see what they were cheering about.

On a platform, was basically a international pie eating contest. Except in these parts people don't eat pies, so it was a watermelon contest--with no hands. And the man from Pakistan was in the lead. I'm not sure if the man from Pakistan won or not. But I do know the winner got cheated! The 2nd from the left clearly ate the most watermelon--there was none left. But they gave the award to the guy on the far left. And I didn't understand a word of what the announcer guy was saying. It was my first time in this country to be completely in the dark because of language.

Then this guy got up and started speaking--entertaining, really. He spoke in Arabic, ans I guess he was funny because people began laughing all around me. Then I figured out what he was doing. He would tell a tongue twister--and let me say they are a lot harder sounding that "selling seashells by the seashore!" Then different people in the crowd would attempt to repeat the twister back to him, and wow was that funny! Even I could laugh at their attempts. The winner would get a gift certificate to a store in the mall. This one little girl kept giving it her best shot over and over. Finally, the last certificate was to a teeny-bopper store similar to Claire's Boutique in the states, and the little girl got close enough that the whole crowd began cheering. So the guy gave her the award! Cheers all around. It was so fun to see and hear the local people laughing...after a month of being somber from fasting.

Then it got exciting! A group of about fifteen men went out into the main circle, and two of them began a drumbeat. Five lined up on one side, and five on the other, each holding a camel cane. I have heard about this kind of traditional dancing, but never knew where (or when) I'd be able to witness it up close. I'd heard these men and their canes were something to see...and well. They were something alright! I read on the internet that it represents a story about when the old desert tribes would war, and the two sides are talking back and forth. And there did seem to be a "mediator" who would go back and forth between the two sides. One side would sing, then the other would sing in response, then the mediator would come talk to one side, and they'd change their tune and step, and so it went. I got some video of it, but I have no idea how to put video on my blog, sorry.

The men were always completely synchronized in their movements. They'd bend lower and lower at the waist, and twist their wrists so the sticks would move just the right way. Then they'd tap the canes on the floor. Next they'd do this sway-step thing. The guy on the right is the "mediator." (And yes, that IS a Hang Ten store in the background. Such is the strange world I live in.)



There was also a kid dancing around, spinning a gun/knife looking thing, and well...he so reminded me of a majourette! The group on the right side (pictured below), seemed to be having so much fun! The guy closest to the camera was all smiles the whole time, and really got into it.


The left side finally kneeled (waving the white flag to say they surrendered?).

But they didn't lay their canes on the floor, so I guess it wasn't completely over. The guys on the right connected all their canes together, and began swaying--I would interpret that it meant they were unified, but what do I know as a white girl who doesn't speak any Arabic?

I may not have understood any of it, but I do know I enjoyed watching (and listening to the drums and singing) thoroughly! Finally, some culture in this crazy place! Thank you Eid (the holiday we're in right now). Lesson learned: always, always, carry the camera wherever you go, because you never know what you'll see!

Tonight's Top Story

Tonight's top story--

An American woman went off the deep end and began throwing grapes at the teenagers on the rooftop across from her building. Apparently the teenagers had been incessantly shooting firecrackers for hours on end and it was began to light her nerves instead of the sky. When one firecracker soared off the roof and hit a car below, causing the car to stop and park illegally so the driver could yell at the teenagers, all the traffic came to a standstill. As all who live in this area know, such double parking leads to many cars honking.

Sources tell us that the honking drove the already irritated woman more and more towards the brink of insanity as the fireworks continued despite her grape throwing efforts.

Then the unthinkable happened! One of the firecrackers went askew and landed on the woman's balcony!

What would an American woman in culture shock over the noise of her expatriate country do in such a situation? The firecrackers and honking certainly would drown out her screaming for the shooting to stop. She doesn't believe police exist in this country, since they certainly don't do anything about the speed demons and double parkers and all other forms of traffic violators, so why would they do anything about teenage boys shooting firecrackers onto her balcony? Throwing grapes and screaming and calling the police would do no good. It's enough to drive anyone insane, really.

Sources tell us she laid on her couch with pillows over her head, kicking her feet in a total tantrum hoping the noise would cease.

This journalist believes if she had worse ammunition than grapes, she would throw them down at the rooftop below her balcony, at the perpetrators of noise crime against her otherwise tranquil home. We'll keep you updated with the latest on this story.

Now in other news...

Driving

I've been culture shocking a little bit recently about the driving here. I wondered if it is culture shock (which blows everything out of proportion) or if the driving here really is OFF. I realized two things: the fact that they drive insane on paved, Western-style roads (versus what I saw in South Asia that could be called 'paved' but not exactly in the Western mindset of what 'paved' ought to be) shocks me because of expectations. I expect them to drive as we do in America because the roads and cars look like they do in America. Then I am shocked (and irritated) when they drive their way. (Let's face it, when you're in a place like South Asia, and you see an elephant walking down the highway, along with four people on a bicycle, and a tuk-tuk taxi, and buses driving in the wrong lane of traffic, your expectations for normal and safe driving go right out the window!)

But two--it's not just me. The second revelation came via reading my Lonely Planet about my current country of residence. I laughed out loud when I read the following.

"Dangers and Annoyances:
The main danger is bad driving. Many drivers [here] don't seem to have a concept of other cars, and courtesy on the road simply does not exist. People will cut in front of you, turn without indicating, and race each other on the freeways. Out of the cities, the inner lane is for the speeding luxury vehicles only--block them at your own risk. Drivers have a tendency to zoom into roundabouts at frightening speeds, and try to exit them from inside lanes. Pedestrian crossings are no guarantee that drivers will stop or even slow down. Watch out!"

As much as the roads have stressed me out recently (and I'm not even the one having to drive in them! Thank goodness for Sparky and her skilled LA driving experience), I remembered when I read the above paragraph that in spite of the insanity of the roads here, I have seen LESS accidents and deaths of pedestrians/motorcyclists here than I did in Portugal. Thank goodness!

That's all I have to say about that.

Queen Camel

Sparky and I were driving along the main waterfront road tonight laughing about something or another, when I look out the window and see the most absurd site: a camel dressed up in RED SEQUINS. I pointed and said, "Hey! That camel's dressed in drag!"

Red sequins, I'm not even kidding.

Top 10 Tuesday

I decided that because I like top 10 lists so much, and because people are always asking me questions like, "what do you like about it there? what are you looking forward to in regards to returning to America?" I would start a new weekly installment here at NeverHome.

Top Ten Tuesdays!

This week's Top Ten:

The Top 10 Things I LIKE about it Here in the desert... (drumroll, please)

10. Bendy straws! Everywhere you go, they give you BENDY straws!
9. Magic towels! What are Magic towels, you ask? They are paper towels the size of a napkin, that come in a box like Kleenex--no tearing them apart. Just reach over, pull out of the box, and you have a tissue! A napkin! A paper towel! NO--a MAGIC towel!
8. As much kebab and Indian food as I want.
7. You never have to complain about the rain and not seeing the sun.
6. My church here ROCKS.
5. Learning a language that uses a different script.
4. Most people dress modestly and believe there is a God.
3. Sand DUNES!
2. Camels!
1. Sparky lives here! (and all my other friends too).

A question for you to ponder: What do you like about where you live?

More on the rat

After seeing the rat yesterday (through the air conditioning vent) I went to bed. Several hours later, he made such a ruckus that I jumped out of bed, flicked on the lights in a tantrum, looked up ready to yell and to my horror saw HIS UGLY LITTLE TAIL hanging out from my A/C vent.

He crossed the line! It's one thing to hear him. It's another to even see him. But for him to enter into my domain is not okay!!!

I stormed into the kitchen (all the while explaining to him that he better get out of my house, cause I'm on the war path now), grabbed my broom and rammed the ceiling with all that had, thinking that part of the ceiling was concrete (like the part that Sparky had once rammed to tell the neighbors they were being too loud). It was not concrete, but metal from the A/C--and MAN WAS IT A LOUD BANG. At 2am. (Might be that my neighbors are telling me I'm too loud now). I think I scared him to death. I didn't hear a peep out of him the rest of the night.

I stormed this morning down to the watchman and explained that I (still) have a rat and I'm not happy about it and this time they're going to do something about it. I figured they can't ignore a crowd, so I went to my next door neighbor (also a woman), and asked if she'd ever heard the rat. Well, did she ever start screaming! If a man is strong enough to ignore one screaming woman, I'd like to see one strong enough to ignore TWO screaming women!

He said he'd send someone up right away. Guess who he sent? The only men he could find: the carpenter and the painter. The painter crawled up in the ducts, found a hole and decided he would seal it up for me so the rat couldn't come back in. Guess what he sealed it up with? STYROFOAM. Um, if the rat can chew through the A/C ducts to get in, I think he can chew through styrofoam. I'm not a rat expert, though.

I asked if they would put any traps up there, and they smiled, and said, "No problem no, madam. No more rat! All finished."

I left and went immediately to a hardware store to buy a rat trap AND rat poison. They didn't have the latter. I bought a trap, brought it home and handed it to the watchman, explaining that he was going to set it up there for me. He looked at it in wonder, and explained that he had no idea how to work that contraption. (He didn't say contraption. Really he didn't say anything. He looked at in confusion, wiggled his head, tskd at me and handed it back and left).

So I was sitting here at my computer after a very crazy day (the rat was only the beginning!), when I heard it jump overhead, walk along the corridor, and then began scratching at the styrofoam. Oh great! Instead of blocking him OUT, they'd blocked him IN. I knocked him with the broom for good measure, since I knew exactly where he was at, and then stormed back downstairs.

I found the watchman and explained the rat is here RIGHT NOW. He said, "Okay, you come office." What!? There's an OFFICE?!

So I went into the office and there is the building maintenance MANAGER. With a DESK. Who speaks PERFECT ENGLISH. I thought, "where has this guy been since I moved in?!" I explained about the rat, and that I do not want a rat in my apartment, nor do I even want to HEAR the rat anymore. I want something done to insure that he is gone and no more friends or family of his will return.

He was extremely polite, made several phone calls, and explained that someone will come tomorrow first thing in the morning and will not leave until the problem is resolved. HALLELUJAH!!! I actually accomplished something, and I didn't even get told, "Inshallah." My plumber is not coming to fix the sink, however, until he finishes his nap. Yes, he actually told me that.

Name suggestions?

I SAW THE RAT!!! I SAW THE RAT!!!

In case you don't hear me shouting, I SAW THE RAT!!!

He was making lots of rambunctious noise up in my A/C ducts, so I went over to take a look and make sure he wasn't busting through my ceiling. As I looked up, there he was, crawling above my A/C vent. Good thing there is some metal between us.

I'm serious about taking name suggestions. He's obviously not going anywhere; might as well be friendly with him.

One difference between black and white

I bought meat today, and decided since I was at the "good meat" store to buy a bunch and freeze most of it. When I returned home, I noticed that one package was white and one was black. Upon further inspection, I realized I'd bought one package of beef, and one package of lamb. Blast! My friend who I was cooking lunch for told me she loves lamb, and to go ahead and use it while she was here and eating with me. I've never cooked lamb, but here goes...

So um, it being so late in the day, I was lazy and made Hamburger Helper. Except it was LAMBURGER HELPER. Hardee har har.

Antithesis of a Geek

I have a friend who wrote this week and asked my opinion about purchasing an ipod, and he busted into complete "man language." He talked about nano's, bytes, flash memory...all things that I have no idea what any of them mean. I responded that the only thing I think when I hear 'nano' is the show Mork and Mindy.

My boss is in town right now from the Netherlands, and was asking me questions about the internet here. I went on to explain why my internet bill has been lowered in price.

"I used to have the 512 um...what's the speed word for internet speed? I have 512 of that. Then they increased my speed to 1 mega speed word, but kept the price the same. I didn't need the 1 mega speed word, so I went to the internet place and asked to for the slower speed. They were surprised that I wanted to be downgraded, but they did it anyway...so I still have the 512 speed word for a less price!" (And a big proud smile spread across my face.)

Then I was talking to my dad tonight and we were laughing about how I absolutely cannot do any form of math at all. He tried explaining to me what a nano was, and what the speed word is for internet (bits and not bytes!). The next thing I know, my dad says to me, "You are the antithesis of a geek!" I guess it's true: I don't know how to do math (much less enjoy it), I don't know about gadgits (or want them), and I don't speak any form of geek language.

So in case you were curious about my geek status...according to my dad, I am the antithesis!

However.

I was explaining this week that my vacuum cleaner doesn't work, and said, "My vacuum cleaner sucks!" Then I started laughing really hard because I realized what I'd said and it really struck me as funny. And stuff like that happens alot.

So while I may not be a geek, I think I probably am a big dork.