Hey!

I was just checking currencies online and noticed the Canadian Dollar is 1.04 to the USD! How did I now know this? I guess I don't work with that many Canadians here. What's going on? Did we recover from our financial crisis? Somebody please explain.

I got into the meditation retreat in India. 10 days of noble silence in Northern India near the Nepalese border, plus I will get to visit Varanasi, which I have been wanting to do for some time. Excellent. I don't know why I love India so much, it is noisy and chaotic, too, but in a more gentle way, than the Middle East.

Later.

On track

I have been feeling much better and I am grateful to all those of you who have been reading, writing and helping me through this time. Not surprisingly, my friend Caroline has been feeling much the same way after leaving Kuwait, and she is in beautiful, organized Switzerland. We both lack the sense of spirit and community in our new posts. We also love our jobs less.

As for me, I had some good times with my students and have been trying to only focus on the fact that, even though they are chatty, the kids are good, they are talented and funny and cute, they are sweet and they love me. And really, I am here to teach kids to play music and to love it, and at that I am succeeding.

I gave a presentation on public speaking at our Professional Development day last Friday and it went really well. I have been hearing good things about it for an entire week, and that makes me happy. Several people have asked me to present again, either for student or adults. I have done this workshop format with Forensics and Debate students in the past, and re-worked it for adults and MS kids, as I have now been doing the presentation with grade 6&7 classes. It's fun, and I feel like I am contributing, which is necessary for my professional well being.

Bashar has been to visit twice in the recent past. Three weeks ago he was here for two days with his friend Ibrahim (who I have stayed with several times in Damascus) and Ibrahim's girlfriend. It was fun to have company. Bashar was here last weekend by himself and we had a great time. We went for several walks along the Corniche, went for drinks with people from my work, I made him pancakes with maple syrup and cream for breakfast one day, and an excellent omelette the next. We shopped at some discount stores and generally had a great time laughing our heads off. We watched a movie for about forty minutes until we both fell asleep. Too funny.

Next weekend we have three days off due to Lebanese Independence Day so I think I will go to Damascus with some friends. I only got my passport back last week and am finally free to leave the country after three months. After our Monday off, we only work Tuesday and Wednesday before it is American Thanksgiving and the Eid al Hadha, so we have another extended weekend. My friend Katie will come from Kuwait for a couple days to hang out. Hurray!

I have started Arabic lessons with a private tutor, and it's going well enough, though it's HARD!!! Lebanese dialect and the local accent are much different than the classical Arabic I began to study last year in Kuwait. It's basically a slanguage here, but I am hoping to be able to converse casually and shop in Arabic by winter break. We shall see.

I am thinking of going to India (what a surprise) for winter break, to do a meditation retreat. We will see if it works out- I have to wait another week or so for a reply to my application. Otherwise, I think I will go visit Thailand and Cambodia if I can get a good price on flights.

Until then, I practice patience. And one day, I hope I can feel calm amidst the chaos that is Beirut. Peace. Shanti. Masalaam.

Culture "Shock"

I am beginning the fourth phase of culture shock- acceptance. The honeymoon ended long ago (not sure if it was with the diarrhea or the strained back), followed by the frustration of things and then the depression of feeling stuck.

For me, more of the "shock" has been from the culture of the school than the culture of the country. Since most of our staff is Lebanese and I STILL don't understand much Arabic, I often walk by conversations, unable to participate. The school is fine (I am accepting) but I find it isolating working here. Maybe because my classroom is away from others and I have no hallway neighbours so I don't interact much unless I make it a point to go to someone's classroom. Since the turnover is not a pronounced as it was at ASK, there are not as many systems set up for new staff. I don't know how to do anything at all and there is no handbook or reference guide. I am always asking questions because I really don't know anything and people assume you do.

I am scandalized by what people wear to school. While students pushed the dress code in Kuwait, there are not even any apparent guidelines here. I see high school girls in sleeveless shirts and skirts above their knees. Teachers wear tops akin to the camisoles I wear UNDER my shirts. Jeans are the typical bottoms. If we had a casual day, folks would have to come to work in pyjamas and slippers or work out wear as that is the only way we could possibly be more casual. I still wear what I consider professional clothes.

At ASK, there was a drive in the teachers that I have yet to see in more than a few folks here. We were all planning for the future- Kuwait was our stepping stone into international teaching and to do well there meant (in most cases) a better school next time. So many of the staff here are local or married to locals that they do not have much of a drive- it all comes from the expat interlopers who are definitely the minority. People are not lazy or bad teachers by any means, it only feels like there is no desire for personal and professional development.

And the things in the city...People honk their horns like it might get them through traffic. They do this at any time, but when I am sitting on my balcony after work and one of the five traffic lights in Beirut has stopped people a whole block from my place to the corner and the honking continues for 10 minutes, that drives me crazy. There is also the honking of taxis as they pass by, which happened all the time in Kuwait and it still irritates me. In my fifteen minute walk to yoga, at least 5 honks and 2 drivers standing outside their cars calling out "taxi". ARG! If I wanted a taxi, I would be in one. Plus the traffic would make me later in a car than on foor. Then there is how people walk and drive and park. People do not look when they are walking. I have almost walked into many folks for this reason. Often when people drive around the one way streets in my area, they stop and back up, blocking the intersection whilst making a 2 to 5 point turn. When folks park, it would be on the sidewalk if not for the poles preventing this nonsense. Cars are parked so close together, even on the street corners, that as I pedestrian I have trouble finding an opening to walk through.

Then there is the "more of the same" aspect of domestic workers. I see Phillipina nannies taking kids to and from school, carrying their bags, walking dogs. They are often chasing after the kids while their parents enjoy a stroll along the Corniche. There are foreign labourers who pick up the trash along the Corniche and throughout the city. These were common sites in Kuwait, I did not think it would be so common here. There is a lot to be said for people picking up their own garbage.

Now that I generally know what to expect at school and around, it's okay. We had a great outdoor education trip where we took a group of fifty-some kids and 7 teachers to the mountains. That was the best experience of my career here so far. Of course, the apples which are at the end of harvest have been excellent and the fruits and veggies are generally a treat.

I must go now and get some things done. More later...

It is what it is

In the International Teaching scene, four years is a long time to stay in one place, especially if you are young and single and that place is Kuwait. When I arrived in Kuwait, it was the beginning of a whole new adventure. I was surrounded by colleagues I clicked with and soon adored. I miss all of that dearly and daily. I loved my arts team beyond measure, even the moodiness and misguided passion, as it was tempered with a desire for excellence. Over four years, I developed friendships akin to family relations.

I have no desire to return to Kuwait nor the school. I miss my friends and colleagues and wish I had the opportunity to work with one or two (or many more) of them. I find my work situation here is not as fulfilling. Part of that is because I am new to the school and do not have a strong sense of where I belong as I do not know where I can best contribute. My schedule is easy and I am bored.

The best part of the school is certainly the students. I enjoy my classes, even my loud and chatty grade 7 class. The grade 6s are so sweet, they always want to stay in band and not go to their next class. The grade 8s are fun because they have some skills and still so much to learn, plus they are so nice.

As for the school itself, the location is fabulous. I can see the sea from various vantage points, the walk is 6-8 minutes from my apartment (6 on the way there because it's all downhill, 8 on the uphill way home). At least it's not uphill both ways, in knee deep snow. :) As for the details such as management, organization and colleagues, I'm really running cool with it. It is, career-wise, a step down from my previous situation. Perhaps in time that will change, but for now I say most frequently, "It is what it is." Because that's all there is to say.

My life here is shaping up to be okay. Yoga is going well, I have found a place I like to go for classes. My neighbourhood has everything I need and more. In five minutes, I can walk to a variety of produce markets, grocery stores, a cheese shop, specialty nuts shops, plus any number of pubs and coffeeshops, ice cream stops and restaurants.

I have been going on little day trips out of the city with various folks. It's all good. The countryside is lovely and the air is clean and crisp away from the humidity of the coast.

I buggered up my back pretty badly a few weeks ago (moving furniture) and the doctor at school assured me it was muscular. It's back to about 95% now, but I was in pain and pretty grumpy for over a week. It's great to feel better again.

Bashar was here my first couple days, then came back about a month later for a short visit. It seems I won't see much more of him than I did when I lived in Kuwait, at least until January. Now that I've had some time to digest it, heal my back and feel better about life, it's okay. I was quite angry at the thought of seeing him in January and not sooner, but after a series of long talks, he decided he would come back for a couple days now and then, even when it is the busy season for him. I enjoy his company so much when he's around, simple things like him making coffee and lunch, cleaning up, helping me hang pictures, walking around, playing cribbage at the coffee shop. It's nice to have someone around. Again I say,' It is what it is."

I will write more, with details and pictures soon. I must go now to get some things accomplished.

Please write- I am a little lonely.

my new acronym- EAWOP

Everything Always Works Out Perfectly

A tale of my trip to Beirut

As you know, I am a lousy blogger because if I do not write about something immediately, I do not write later, either. So you may never read about Sweden or my trip to the southern Mediterranean in Turkey.

I am situated in a neighbourhood internet cafe, where 80s MUZAK is playing. Since I am way overtired and jet lagged, it is almost soothing. It's that guitar muzak, which is better than sythesizer and panflute, but I digress. That is not he point of this post.

I am in the Hamra area of Beirut, which is the cool university area with lots of coffee shops and bookstores. My apartment is in the German Building, and is home to some other staff members (two arrived last night as well) and some German fmilies. There are apparently events throughout the year- Christmas Bazaars and food nights and I am hoping for an apple strudel from time to time. Yummy.

My apartment is spacious- two bedrooms, plenty of closet space, a decent kitchen and living room area, bathroom with a long tub, large balcony. I am really happy with the layout. My living room/balcony overlook a fairly busy street and my bedroom window directly faces a church bell. It is a very pretty sight.

On Monday afternoon, Mom took me to the Saskatoon airport. My luggage was quite overweight and I should have been paying excess baggage fees to the tune of $400. The man at the counter was nice enough not to impose these charges and I calmly put on my pouty lips and deer in headlights eyes, explaining that I am moving to Beirut and I just needed to bring all that stuff. Then Susan showed up at the airport with carrot ginger juice and cafe chestnut so it was pretty much the perfect day.

I had booked all aisle seats, but to my chagrin discovered I only had an aisle from Saskatoon to Calgary. I could handle the window from London to Beirut- it's only 4.5 hours, but a centre seat for the 8.5 hour trip from Calgary to London? Unbearable. Fortunately for me, there were two sisters separated by an aisle and so I sat in the aisle seat and the one sister took my place in the inside seat. Perfect.

On my trip, I read a book which I borrowed from my mom (I will give it back, I promise) called I am Hutterite by Mary-Ann Kirkby, who lives in Prince Albert. For those of you who have not heard of it or read it, I highly recommend it. As my background has some Hutterite roots, I have a bit more of an interest in the culture than some, but even without that, it was a very powerful account which helped me to understand a bit more of the history and language of the Hutterite people. Do yourself a favour and read the book. Alexis was telling me the woman had to publish it herself because no publishers would take it on. It ended up being a best seller. I wonder if Canadian publishers realize how many people have Hutterite origins and therefore an interest in this culture.

On the flight from London to Beirut, I was sitting next to a Lebanese guy, probably in his late 20s, coming home for a visit for the first time in one year and four months. He was flying from Washington, D.C. Ass we got closer to the city, he kept looking over me to see if he could see anything. He then informed me CNN declared Beirut the best city in the world, which amused me. The Lebanese are so proud.

After arriving at the airport and buying my employment visa, I collected all $400 of excess baggage and met people from the school. It was fun to have someone with a sign collect me from the airport. I was instantly reimbursed for the visa. There were a couple others heading ot my building, too. One young American woman who grew up in the Middle East, who will be a useful friend as she speaks Arabic, and an American guy who was recently in Guatemala. They were both nice, though we were all pretty tired.

A woman from the school showed us our apartments and some employees brought our luggage for us. They were all kind and hospitable and there were some nice things in our apartments- 3 cans of Almaza, the local beer, a bottle of wine, some orange juice, milk, eggs, bread, butter, processed cheese, cornflakes, nescafe, tea, sugar, apples and grapes. The apartment also has a mop pail, mop, broom, ironing board and iron (all brand new), plus basic serving and cooking dishes and utensils. Perfect. It will get me by until my stuff gets here.

The only thing that has not worked out perfectly is that my shipment from Kuwait was supposed to be here today, but it will be here in a couple days instead. Too bad, because I have Bashar here to help me unpack and by the time my stuff gets here, he will be back in Aleppo. At the same time, it gives us today to just hang out and enjoy the glorious heat and humidity. Then after I am rested up, I will have more energy to unpack and I will have a better sense of where I want everything, so in that sense, it is actually best to get my shipment in a few days. I need a bookshelf. We have coffee tables, end tables, an entertainment center including a TV set (it's not flat screen, but it's large- probably 32 inches). No bookshelf.

Anyway, I have lots of room to do yoga, though my mat is not here. I can do without, maybe I can even find a new mat as mine is pretty worn. You can see a lot of dog poses occurred on that thing. Ha.

Well, I am going to go because I either need food, more coffee, or sleep. I only slept a couple hours last night so am exhauted. Actually, I think just hanging around outside will be perfect. But the point is, it's time to go before I stink like smoke from this internet cafe. Sigh.

Lots of love to all and I do have plenty of room for guests.

The post I've been meaning to write for a long time-thanks Dale

Dale Lonis, the main conducting instructor at the CWCDP course I have taken the last two summers, once asked me if I would please write him about what morning is like in Kuwait. He said it gives him a sense of the place one is living. At first I dismissed the idea- I get up, get ready, go to school. Then I began to think of this whilst driving to school, noting all of the goings on around me that have now become normal but were once everything from bizarre to gross to shocking. And then there are Friday mornings...(remember, weekends here are Friday and Saturday).

The mornings truly do give a strong sense of place and have now become my preferred time of day. For those of you who are unaware, I am a recovering night owl. In Saskatchewan, I loved the night time because I was so productive while others slept. As a teenager, there were many a weekend night I would get home from babysitting around midnight and move into a two hour piano practice session. It was the best feeling in the world to me. I was alone, no one was looking, listening, judging. Until I moved to Kuwait, staying up until 11 or 12 was normal for me on a school night. Since our days here begin so early (must be at school by 7) and it is really a night culture in the Arab world, I take solace in the quiet of the mornings. I could stay up until almost four and still many folks would be awake.

I will describe for you my typical weekday and weekend mornings.

It's 4:30 in the morning and my alarm wakes me if I haven't already woken. I brush my teeth, drink a glass of water and put on my walking clothes. I take the elevator 8 floors down and meet up with my friend Flor. We walk out the gate of the apartments into the desert area surrounding our buildings. We comment on the weather, the moon cycle, muse over the beauty of the slim crescent moon, the madness of the full moon. As we walk towards the sea, we encounter a few cars and buses and other pedestrians. We talk about our school, our students, her little daughter and our upcoming trip to Sweden. We speak of the past, present and future, learning to better understand one another and revealing a little more of our personal histories. Sometimes a taxi drives by, beeping the horn to get our attention, see if we want a ride. Sometimes there are people on the public beach at the turning point of our 35 minute walk. We suspect they have been up all night. Occasionally, they speak to us and we have learned to ignore lest we be followed or harassed. Walking back toward the apartments, the traffic is increasing- more buses collecting workers, more people walking through the desert. We wish one another a nice day and get ready for school.

Back in my apartment, the usual routine of shower, dress, coffee or tea, music (including Alison Krauss singing 9-5) ensues. I am usually one of the last people to head to school. Often my friend Christina and I smile sheepishly at each other as we leave about 5 minutes later than we should, knowing we may get stuck in traffic but that the perfect outfit or cup of coffee was worth it.

On the road, there are busloads of Philippina nurses, Indian security guards, school children of various ethnicities. Drivers (usually Indian) transport students to school, often accompanied by a nanny (Indian or Philippina). There are local women wearing hejab (headscarves), men in gutras (the red and white or plain white head coverings) speeding along the freeway in BMWs, Mercedes, Pajeros, Prados and so on. Expat teachers most commonly travel at a more modest speed in Mitsubishi Lancers and Peugeots. The left lane is the fast lane and it is expected you travel over the 120km/hour speed limit. Drivers who disapprove of your speed will indicate this by flashing their high beam lights until you move to make way for them. Sometimes they pass on the emergency lane, sometimes in the middle lane and, most often, by weaving through three lanes to get ahead as quickly as possible.

On the days I leave early enough, I see Bangladeshi men in yellow jump suits removing garbage from the said freeway. The 15-30 minute drive (depending on traffic, which is directly related to departure time) is full of other sights. Drivers picking their noses, talking and texting on mobiles, passengers falling asleep, kids moving about the car or SUV, completely unbuckled, often hanging their heads or hands out the window. Safety first.. I arrive at the final turn off to school and sometimes get caught in what my dear friend Ted describes as a "cluster fuck". This is a poorly designed exit in which people do not slow down enough to merge across the required two or three lanes. Horns honk, people gesture to others to let them in, shake their hands in the air at stupid driving moves. The most common hand gesture- is the "shway shway" (be patient) sign of the four fingers and thumb together (sort of like an Italian "delicioso").

As I pull into the secure area of the school, guards walk around the car with a mirror, checking for bombs, except they don't really look. I park and am usually greeted by a few students and alas am ready to start my day of teaching. Repeat.


Friday, oh glorious Friday. I wake up early and head over to teach yoga to an older woman from work. Around 8 or 9 o'clock, Indian, Bangladeshi and Sri Lankan workers meet in the desert area outside our apartments for their weekly cricket matches. They play until around noon, when it's time for Friday prayers or earlier when the heat starts to beat them. These same men who I see falling asleep on the way to work, who pick up garbage on the side of the road, who live in small apartments with many others and send most of their pay home, raise their voices to cheer for points and good plays. The saving grace of their lives, this open space in which to play, to be human. The saving grace of mine, time to think, breathe and relax while listening to the happiness of those who seem to have so little. I sip my cappuccino, sit on the cushions by my window, watching the match, reading a book, thinking about the past, present and future. I smile at the blessings of life, appreciate my charmed life and the opportunities it allows. I am at peace. Often I take my privileged self to the gym at the Hilton and enjoy my membership by exercising, swimming and sitting on the beach.

This Friday morning, I am off to brunch in celebration of a first birthday. I will spend time with some of my closest friends in Kuwait and I will be grateful to be surrounded by kindness and comaraderie. Someone just scored a point in that cricket match outside. YAAAAAAH!

Sometimes I simply lack inspiration, sometimes I lack time

I suppose I need not begin with an excuse such as being busy. The last week, I have been leaving work when everyone else leaves and not bringing anything home. Of course, I now feel the effects of this and am behind in my work. It is what it is- I work hard when I must and usually feel good about it.

We hosted the Arts Festival and it was insanely good. It was so lovely that afterwards I felt happy rather than relieved. I had a great team to work with- everyone pitching in to make it a great event. Sweet. I feel a bit empty now, the way I did after piano exams when I was a teenager. I think this is because I am best when I am focused on only one thing and when that thing is done, I have to put my energy and attention into so many things that I feel like I am not accomplishing anything. Just a theory.

Over spring break in early April, I travelled to Sri Lanka with four of my girl friends. It was a great trip. Sri Lanka is a beautiful island and there are many aspects of the culture and country I absolutely loved.

1. The country is largely Buddhist so folks tend to be laid back and gentle (regardless of what you hear of the Tamil Tigers on the news). Buddha statues and Stupas abound.

2. There is a social cast system in which the highest rank you can have is if you work in agriculture. Let me repeat- the best thing you can do in Sri Lanka is live off the land. Incidentally, the lowest ranking work is laundry. Not bad, really.

3. On Poya (full moon), the Buddha suggested that people engage largely in religious activity and meditation as it is typically a day when weird things happen. So every full moon, many businesses shut down, some restaurants don't serve alcohol, and people pray early in the morning (I heard chanting on the full moon morning).

4. Food is good and fresh and coconut based.

5. Tea plantations and spice gardens provide a wealth of delicious flavours.

6. From beach to mountains to jungle, the landscape is stunning.

Now and then

Sometimes it's really hard to live in the present when you thrive on change. I am so busy with school related things right now that I must focus on what I am doing here in Kuwait. We just finished a MS play festival, which was great and very busy. Next we host one of those fabulous festivals I have been attending in other countries the last few years. It's a challenge to get everyone and everything organized, tasks delegated to the right people, and get myself organized with the students.

This said, whenever I have a spare moment, my mind drifts to spring break, summer holidays, next school year in Beirut. I am envisioning how I will set up my apartment, what I will teach in my classes, team building activities I will do with my homeroom. I daydream about trips to the mountains, which I visited briefly a few weeks ago.

My visit to Beirut confirmed all of the simple reasons I am so happy to relocate. Several people have exclaimed "Beirut is so YOU!" and I agree. I can walk to so many places from where I will live, and much of that walking can be along the corniche. The corniche (seawall) is about a 90 second walk from the school.



Me, enjoying a most beautiful February day in my new town.

The campus is gorgeous and lush, the people friendly. In Beirut, there are little markets everywhere (and often you can purchase the local wines and beers) and sidewalks to get to these places. I know these things sound so simple they are nearly redundant, but while bakalas (little markets) are common in Kuwait, sidewalks are not. Nobody stares at me in Lebanon. I am just a person, not a foreigner, not an enigma of independence, not a target of leering.

After a day or so hanging in Beirut, Bashar and I headed to the mountains to meet up with a bunch of my ASK friends. It was great- we stayed in the cutest little chalet that had a fire place and a loft bed. We briefly met up with the ASK gang, but plans to have coffee in the morning were impeded by a massive snowstorm (Bashar's first) complete with thunder and lightning. Odd. Luckily, we made in safely back to Beirut in good time and I am excited to at least cross country ski next year, but hopefully really learn to downhill ski well. I am so excited for clean, fresh air. Lebanon has no desert (the only country in the Middle East without one) so no more sandstorms for me!

Out little chalet in the snow, some hail and Bashar learning how to make and throw a snowball. So cute.



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