Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Bovine in Bombay, or, Where's she going?



Thibadeaux and I were walking down Mahatma Ghandi Road in Bombay (specifically, near Pragati Nagar), and saw this gal waking down the street. Notice that to everyone else around this was a non-event. Completely normal. Why's that Gora filming the Ghai?? What's wrong with the man? Hasn't he ever seen a cow walking down the street in heavy traffic?


I took this especially for Nancy. XOXOXO



And here's a link to the video on the web, just in case you have trouble viewing it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxqPA9fpLYs

Yogi Boogi and Johnny Munga

So Nancy has told you about her foreign language of love. Maybe this is about mine.

The Gateway to India, added to lend some gravity to this post

Call Your Correspondent impolite, but one of my main goals in learning any language is to obtain a good, solid competence in cussing someone out. I'm pretty sure it's a genetic thing that comes down from all sides of the family tree. I don't think one can call him or herself fluent without this basic skill. If you can't call someone "Wicker Bill" in a given language then you simply aren't fluent yet.

I find great humor in what some cultures consider a curse. In Arabic it often has something to do with a person's lineage and/or nationality. In Hindi one of the best ones is "Sala," best said with a bit of a sneer. It means brother-in-law. There's just something poetic about that.

Sala Ghandu, on an empty train

In fact, the best cursing is very creative, and leaves a strong mental picture. It is indeed like poetry that way. And while belittling the person addressed, it should also make them smile at your overpowering creativity.

In my earlier post I mentioned that one of my names for Ravianna is Sala Gandhu. It means brother-in-law a__wipe. Obviously, I use the term with a great deal of love and affection.

People, of course, react differently to my pet names. Some are scandalized that I would know these terms at all, and some want to teach me new ones. I am always grateful when I find such a brother in vulgarity. So Ravi's cousin Yogesh, who is known by family as Yogi, is just such a mawali bhai (hooligan brother). He calls me Johnny Munga, which means Johnny the Monkey - somewhat in the same spirit as "slap the monkey" if you get my drift. I call him Yogi Boogi, both because he taught me that term, but also because it has a certain faint alliterative groove to it. Boogi is the term for a female dog, BTW.

Yogi Boogi and Johnny Munga, solving the world's problems

Another very good element to all of this is that in Bombay there are many languages spoken every day, not just Hindi. So you can sort of mix and match, at will. Munga, I think, is Tulu, while mawali and bhai are Hindi. Marathi has some very good ones. And when you're on the train and you'r not sure what the dude next to you just said, you can always slip into some good Tex-Mex and be pretty sure (but not totally) that you're not going to offend anyone.

Akki and Addi, or, How Mawalis Spend Their Mornings

So, tere ghand mein haathi kah lundh. And that's in Hindi.

Maha Kuthumb

So most of my dear readers know that I recently had the chance to go to India with my good friend, the Cajun Indian, Thibideaux Ravianna. I also call him Sala Gandhu, but that's for another post (watch for one called Yogi Boogi and Johnny Munga - you won't be dissappointed). His real name is Ravindra. Anna is the term used for the eldest brother, and so I call him Ravianna (as do his dear sisters, also my maha kuthumb).
Ravi being welcomed by Asha


I spent a week living with Ravi's family in Mumbai, and frankly I now feel like I have a whole branch of my family living in India. I call them my Maha Kuthumb, which in Hindi means "the Larger Family."


I got the term when I visited the home Ravi spent his early childhood years living and playing and growing up in Bombay. I don't think Ravianna will mind if I mention that it is an incredibly small place - one room - and totals about 125 Ft Sq. In terms of money they were very poor but I have learned over and over in my life that paucity of money does not necessarily a poor life make. I met many of the people with whom Ravi grew up, and I will tell you that he was quite rich in love and support. Thibs will tell you that he has made his way in the world not in spite of where he comes from, but BECAUSE of where he comes from.

Ravi in front of the building he lived in as a child


While we were there we met the family who are now living in his childhood home. Standing outside we heard a tabla and heard a young voice inviting us into their home - this was Pushpa, the daughter, who was practicing her drums. The father is a musician and teaches classical Hindi music on several instruments including voice. Pushpa sang and played a song for us on the Tampura (similar to but not the same as a Sitar). It was beautiful.

The music teacher and his wife (Pushpa's parents)

Pushpa singing a classical Hindi song


In our conversation about music, the father used the term "maha saagar" to describe the richness, scope, and unrestricted nature of Indian music. This means "a larger ocean." You can sail anywhere you want to go.


So I stole the idea to describe my family in India. My Maha Kuthumb.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

RPH: Blue Flower from the Backyard

Let the Countdown BEGIN!

The big news here is that JOHN'S PARENTS ARE COMING to Doha FOR CHRISTMAS!  You see why I had to post that last obnoxious thing before you could understand how important this is.

I am so freaking excited that I almost pee a little each time I even think about it. They officially have their tickets and will arrive on December 15th.  His Dad will stay for two weeks, his Mom for a month!

Did I mention that I'm excited?

So today, Hannah and I created a count-down chain. One link is for each day between now and the 15th, so we tear off one each morning. It is front and center in the icebox, and each circle is marked with the date. We're exactly 30 days from the big day.

First I cut out 30 strips and wrote a date on each one.  
Then Hannah put a sticker on each one. 
The last strip has seven heart stickers on it.  
Then we glued them into a chain and added a string at the top.
 The starting chain is just about the same height as our girl.
Finally, we used a suction cup hook to attach it to the icebox.  
This is where it will be until the big day arrives.

I can't wait to have them right here with us.  Did I mention that I'm excited?

Foreign Languages of Love

One thing this sort of life change has done is that it has made me think hard about what really matters (personally). This coincides nicely with my 40th birthday which happened last summer, right before we left Texas. I guess that, at 40, it's time to figure this stuff out.

There's this theory called "The 5 Love Languages" that many people have recommended.  It actually sounds sensible, and the idea that knowing your loved one's language will help make your interactions more meaningful is nice.  So I have pondered which of the five might be mine.

Presents are always a nice thing, but material goods aren't what speak to me deep down inside. Helpful acts are appreciated but I also have the tendency to either (1) feel like "just let me do it myself" or (2) feel guilty if I give the task to someone else. These are my own character flaws. I'm not a terribly physical person...occasionally, I love a great hug and I know that the well-timed pat on the back is nice, but I am in general jumpy about people touching me.

That leaves "quality time" (most important to John) and "words of affirmation." Those words of affirmation are important coming from a supervisor, but they can't come *too* often or I'll think it's all b.s. Quality time is important, but I am so introverted (not necessarily a good thing) that the timing has to be on my schedule...That makes none of the five a good (intuitive) fit. 

So I guess I speak a foreign love language.

Really, someone very near and dear to me sums it up best. What makes her happy? "When everybody is else is happy so they'll shut up and leave me alone."

I think that may be my love language, too...I want to feel real contentment in other people, for them to have peace so I can have peace. A smile, very brief thank you, or even just the rainbow-hued aurora glow of peacefulness emanating from a person's being are all that's required. Then we can sit and have quality peaceful time together. It's the realizing that the peace is achieved that makes me happy.

This is why I want to rip my hair out every night at dinner...because NO ONE IS EVER FREAKIN' AT PEACE AND THE MOMENT I PUT MY FOOD ON MY PLATE SOMEONE SPILLS SOMETHING, DROPS SOMETHING, HAS ALREADY EATEN AND THEN WANTS SOMETHING NEW, OR SNEEZES, BLOWING SNOT AND MILK ALL OVER HELL AND HALF OF GEORGIA, WHICH SCARES THE BIRD, WHO JUMPS OFF HIS CAGE AND RUNS UNDER THE COUNTER AND THEN I HAVE TO GET ON THE FLOOR AND CALM THE BIRD AND THEM GET HIM BACK ON HIS CAGE AND THEN ALL MY FOOD IS COLD ANYWAY.  AND THEN THE PHONE RINGS AND IT'S A RECORDED MESSAGE FROM A POLITICIAN.

Was I screaming? Sorry. I must have gotten off track.

So the love language thing is sort of figured out.  But we have also been talking about travel plans and priorities--what adventures would be most important and meaningful to me while I'm here?  John had India high up on his list.  We've agreed that Istanbul, Greece, and Nepal are our top shared three.  Some day, John must take me to China (he feels about India like I feel about China).  But that will likely be later.

That said, I've decided that even more than traveling my own self (which is important), I want to share this place with the people I love. I want to them to come here. When I am back in Texas and close my eyes and float off far away and then open my eyes and look at my loved one and say, "I was just back in Souq Waqif," I want that loved one to say, "Oh my lord! I can just smell the sheesha right now!  Remember the big carved dhow that sat across from the restaurants?  Remember the candy and nut stalls?" I want them to know--not from pictures or from videos or from goofy blog posts. I want them to really know. THAT is what's important to me. Then we can shut up and go back to being peaceful together.

Of course, Qatar is way way way far away, and the tickets are expensive, and hoping for visits is totally unrealistic, like asking for the moon or a new pair of diamond earrings.  All I'm saying is that I have indeed figured out what matters to me. When I dream, I dream big.

If you're still with me, well then thank you for wading patiently through all of this blateration. Maybe "sympathetic listening to my blateration" is another one of my love languages.  You can even roll your eyes as you listen.  Just pretent to listen.  You listen.  I blaterate.  I love you.

I close with this lovely potted poinsettia that a mystery person left on my porch.  Because, if you stuck with me through that whole blog post, then you most definitely deserve a flower.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Beebo the Baller

I have been trying for several weeks to get this on video and was really excited to capture it this morning.

Habib, who has become the sweetest red-tailed precious that ever I could imagine, is a soccer player.  Over the past couple of months, he has been very loving towards me.  He sits on my shoulder and cuddles up to my neck for as long as I'll let him, and he has not come anywhere close to biting me.  He's sweet with the kids and with John (but not as sweet as he is with me :)).

I know he has a very playful side, because Vee has told me about it.  He will now readily come to his perch, play on top of his cage, and play from the hanging perch that I suspended from the ceiling.  But he doesn't get down on the floor and play with his toys like he did with Vee and Collin.  My guess is that this is because of the kids and because his wings are clipped.  He doesn't feel safe on the ground.

However, he loves it when Hannah comes to his perch/tray and lays out his toys.  He gets very puffed up and comes running down off his cage ready to play.  He'll chase after her fingers, too.  The puffing and chasing are things that I keep a close eye on--those could be signs of aggression...but this has been going on for several weeks and he doesn't seem too intent on hurting Hannah (he hasn't managed to catch her yet, and you'll see from the video that he's pretty quick!).  She has no intent of staying still long enough to find out if he bites or not...

Here's the video.  As with previous videos, it may play in double speed...I'll do my best but am having trouble figuring out why that happens.



My Trip To Fujaroh

I just finished going on a field trip with my class that was, no, not to a zoo like my brother's 6th grade field trip, but to an airport to go to a part of the UAE (United Arab Emirates) called Fujaroh. When we got to the airport, we went through customs (UGGGGHHH!!!!) after saying goodbye. We then got on a plane (the company was FlyDubai) and flew to,no not Fujaroh, but Dubai. We then took a 2 hour bus ride to Fujaroh (getting Kentucky Fried Chicken on the way!).  Let me tell you what activities we did together.

1.Swimming
2.Raft building
3.GPS
4.Talent show
5.Quiz about camp and other random stuff
6.Ab sailing
7.Rock wall climbing
8.Snorkling
9.Dow trip
10.Archery
11.Wadi walk
12.Blind path
13.Mountain biking

When we got back it was like a paparazzi
s
We did a lot of things, I know. We had a lot of fun doig all of them, and we were all challenged by every single thing and I, for instance, was very challenged by the mountain biking.

Pizza Night

This is a pretty trivial post, but it's a good illustration of how "life goes on" in the same patterns no matter where we are living.  School, work, chores, sleep, grocery shopping, laundry, outdoor playtime, etc...only interrupted by random trips to the UAE and India (?!?!?!?!).

While JSS is in the exotic land of Mumbai, we at-home folks do things like eat a lot of take out ("take away" is the proper word for it here) and stay in our pajamas all day (that would be known as my "laundry conservation movement intended to reduce our carbon footprint").  So tonight we had pizza with homemade real iced tea--meaning that it was made from tea bags sent from the USA because no such "regular" tea bags exist here--and ranch dressing for dinner. Even Beebo got into the act.



The ranch and tea were no small feat--thank you my beloved family and friends. I still maintain that the Arabian Gulf would be most improved by Texas-style iced tea being offered everywhere and by the presence of huge Western bookstores (Waterstone's or Barnes/Noble or something like them).

Cindereller and Bond James Bond

The Marine Corps Birthday Ball was this past weekend, and Mr. Fancy Pants and I went.  John had a gorgeous tuxedo made.  It fits him perfectly and looks really handsome.  I had a formal skirt made and then topped it off with a shirt and sweater...I am just not girly enough to carry off the whole formal gown thing.  Even though John was rather skeptical, he even said it worked out okay.

What was really fun for me was having a pedicure and (my first!) manicure (did you read that Carroll and Holly?!?) and up-do.  The last time I got my hair done was for Holly's wedding 13 or 14 years ago...

The ball was very nice, and John and I had a lot of fun talking with folks.  There was an open bar.  I'm not going to elaborate beyond that.

Here are some pictures...

 This is Sheila, the angel with the mani, pedi, and hair skills.  She's from the Philippines but has been in Doha for 12 years.    She has three boys who returned to Manila two years ago because the schools here weren't very good and yet were very expensive.  The oldest boy is 18 or so, and he cares for his two younger brothers (one is maybe 10 and the other is 4, I think?  My sad memory is showing).  Their grandmother helps with cooking and cleaning, but otherwise the eldest brother looks after the other two while he is also in college full time.  Sheila gets to go home once per year, which is very very generous.  She and her husband are both in Doha but want to return home soon.  Can you imagine being that far away from your young children?  Their story is not unique, but it is heart-wrenching.   How can I ever whine about anything?
Here we are before we left. 
Yes, my pink toes matched the pink sweater. 

John's tux is really exceptional.  He looks so purty in it that I'm trying to find other events to attend.  In fact, the Army Ball is in June...

At the beginning of the evening, the color guard marched in, and they played the Star Spangled Banner.  That's the first time I've heard it here.  I think most people at our table got tears in their eyes.  It was a beautiful thing to hear.

I love this next scene of the color guard exiting in their handsome uniforms and the Qatari security service at the back in their handsome white thobes.


After the presentation of the flags, the Ambassador was introduced, we watched a video about the Marines' service and sacrifice, and then a fantastic gentleman (about our age) who had been in Afghanistan spoke about what it means to be in the service and what it means to be a Marine.  He did a great job speaking.

Dinner was a buffet of all sorts of yummy things.  Dessert was also a buffet.  This is John's dessert plate.  Yes, he has small servings of three different desserts (you know...the "sampling technique") and then a HUGE BEEF RIB.  Cause those huge beef ribs were good enough to merit being called dessert or main course or salad or aperitif.

This last picture is after dinner (so not too late into the evening).  No, we are not saturated. John is making his Bond James Bond face.  It was a really fun night with lots of great colleagues from TAMU-Q and a truly nice party put on by the Marines.  Speaking of that, only six young Marines are stationed at the embassy here.  This was a lot of work for only six guys who otherwise have jobs to do and who are all most likely under the age of 30.  They deserve a lot of praise.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

RPH: The Green Monster

Thank you, Barker Family, for the Halloweeeeeeeeeen treats.

Yes, It Rained.
Yes, I Cried.

From this moment forward, as Queen of my rented villa #10 situated in the sandy desert of the Arabian peninsula, I decree and command that the word "Rain" be capitalized and that whenever more than 42 drops falls out of the sky, all students and workers hereby will be released from duties to go stand outside and be anointed by this magical miracle that so rarely falls from the sky.

It has been about 5 months since I last saw Rain.  That's actually not that long, as for John it had been longer than six months, and for some folks, it might be almost a year between Rains.  So Saturday, about 42 drops fell on my car on the way home from the grocery, and yes, I took photos.

Then yesterday, we were in the midst of my 11 AM technical writing class.  It meets in a computer classroom that has one huge wall of lovely windows.  Students sit with their backs to that side of the room, so they didn't see the lightning, but the saw the reflection of it and they saw the excited distraction on my face.  Then they heard the thunder.  Then the student visiting from the Texas campus started fidgeting uncontrollably, trying desperately to watch the window behind her as well as pretend she was listening to me.  Another student stealthily positioned himself even closer to the window.

Then there was more lightning and thunder, followed by big fat drops.  At that point, the American student burst out, "I'm sorry but I am going to have to go stand in the Rain.  Please please please won't you let us go? Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" I tried to retain  my composure, but really I felt exactly the same way. When I was in high school, I used to go walking in the Rain and splashing in the gutters.  You know me and gutters.

So I fought it for about 5 more minutes and then dismissed class early.  The American was gone from the room within 5 seconds.  The last ones to leave were my Qatari and my Tunisian student.  The Qatari was laughing..."What?  Has she never seen Rain?"

The Rain went on for a few hours, and the temperature got down to about 67 (F).  It was a lovely, lovely afternoon.  After putting away my things, I went outside and stood in it, too.  Then I came home, and Hannah played in the Rain.  Heavenly.

Taken from the third floor inside the building.  

On the left are Qatari students who have put TAMU College of Engineering shirts over their thobes.  I've come to really love thobes--they are so white and so pressed and rather handsome in a uniform kind of way.  A lady in a black abaya is organizing them for the picture.  Apparently, after even a relatively small shower like we had, truffles will start growing (underground) in the desert.  Qataris go out hunting for them, but I doubt we'll get to try any because they are a very valuable delicacy.

On the upper left are two American students, standing with arms outstretched in the Rain.

Taken from the first floor of the TAMU-Q building.

At home, we turned off the air conditioners, opened the sliding door in the kitchen--the only glass doors not sealed shut against the powdery sand--and closed the screen because the bird is nearby.  First, Hannah wanted to play in the Rain, so I put down a towel to dry her feet.  The floors get super slick when wet.  After a few minutes, she got her toys and played on the towel instead, so she could be near the Rain ("Smell it, Mama!") but not get wet.

She told me that when it started Raining at school, she was scared because she didn't know what the sounds (thunder) or the water drops were.

Halloween Bento

Okay, my Bento aren't real Bento because I don't do things like cut radishes into little tiny bunny wabbits. I'm more likely to carve radishes into boobies and then get a "Mrs. Small We Need to Discuss Recent Events" phone call from the principal.

That said, I did tell myself that Halloween would be a great day to TRY to make a real Bento. With inspiration from this blog called Adventures in Bento, I did my best.

BEHOLD the MUMMY BENTO.


And yes, I went to my favorite retail establishment in Doha, the Japanese Two Dollar Store, which has a small Bento section, and bought a star-shaped cutter so we could all enjoy star-shaped carrots and star-shaped beets and star-shaped fake cheese and star-shaped toast and star-shaped bologna.

Nothing like looking in your lunch only to find it looking back at you.

The Teddy Bear Parade

Hannah's school had a Teddy Bear Picnic and Parade for all the little ones.  It was a gorgeous Friday morning (Friday here is like Sunday in Texas), and we all brought something to share.  The Smalls of Doha contributed Krispy Kreme donuts cause I'm a nutritional ninja like dat.  We sat next to the family of Hannah's favorite friend, Amena.  Amena's Mom and Dad are originally from Liberia (here's your dose of Wikipedia) but have lived all over the world, including in Houston.  They are a beautiful family, inside and out, and we hope to develop a friendship with them. Amena is hilarious, and she and Hannah make quite the pair of sassies.  Along with them, Olivia and Maya form the Power Quartet.  Maya wasn't at the picnic, so I don't get have a photo of all four.

Amena's Mom helps out at the school one day per week, and she tells me that the kids do have loosely formed favorites but that they are all kind to each other (so not exactly cliquish).  Knowing a little about girl drama, I am hoping that's the truth.

On to the photos...

 The bear she took was given to me on my 16th birthday by my beautiful friend Julie Blumenfeld.  When I let Hannah pick which bear/creature she wanted to bring, she chose that one.  It used to be pink, but now 24 years later is sort of a dirty white.
 Amena, Hannah (with 24 year old bear), and Yosmina. Happy girls.  I love these smiles.
Dissolving into a pile of giggles with Olivia (far right).
The goofy girls marching with great enthusiasm.

 Here's the end of the parade.  They had children's music playing through a loud speaker system and all the kids lined up to march around the circle.  Then they took a picture and it was over. :)
 A traditional Filipino dessert.  Can you imagine the patience and talent required to make those layers?
 The boys had a good time, too.


Jack Hits the Double Digits

One of the benefits of Halloween, Observed was that we didn't have to squeeze Halloween and Jack's birthday all into one evening.  So on his actual day, we had a family party, with a menu of his choosing and a homemade cake and a few presents that required a whole team of loved ones to produce.  We'll get to pictures of all that good stuff in a minute.

First, we must pause for Mama-style syrupy stuff:

What an amazing 10 year old I have.  He is thoughtful, creative, funny, and sweet.  He tries really hard to do the right thing, even if he has to be reminded every night to pick up his dirty clothes. :)  He enjoys having a wide circle of friends and wants to be inclusive.   He appreciates difference in others and is not judgmental.  He has adjusted beautifully to a new country, a new lifestyle, a new school, and new friends.  He talks too much, but we know that was a genetically pre-determined certainty.  He taught himself to ride a bike in about 20 minutes recently, just like at 5 years old he taught himself to read.  These are examples of his strong find-a-way-to-make-it-happen-if-I-really-want-it attitude.  He misses his Texas people desperately but also wants to squeeze every ounce of experience out of being here.  He feels things deeply but strives to be a good sport and good friend. Jack will go on to do great things.  I used to tease that he would either be president or he would go to jail...then someone pointed out that these days, those two things aren't necessarily mutually exclusive.  All I know is that I am proud-as-punch or proud-as-pie or whatever that saying is to be the Mom of a fantastic kid.  I love my Jack.

Let's get to the pictures...

Doha Halloween, Observed

Finally, we're gonna play a little catchup...starting with the event furthest back in time. Here we are on "Halloween" 2010. I put that quotation marks because it was really the 30th. Halloween was on a Sunday, which is our Monday...so we had "Halloween, Observed" on Saturday the 30th.

Halloween in general is not acknowledged in Qatar, but the compounds with lots of Americans often do something, if only trick or treating. Luckily, we have an awesome Mom here who organizes a whole carnival. Actually, I'm pretty sure it was a committee of Moms and Dads, but I saw one Mom in particular who seemed to be in charge and now is the object of my admiration.

So here's a little slide show of the festivities.  Some of the photos are a little small--you can click on it to get it to open in a bigger window (under Picasa instead of Blogger).

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Just a Little Year 6 Field Trip: Jack Off to the UAE

Jack is boarding a plane to the UAE as I write this. They fly into Dubai and then board a bus to Fujairah, one of the Emirates (on the Indian Ocean). Click here to read about it on Wikipedia. He's on his way to a five-day field trip with his school, to an outdoor adventure camp. It's a permanent facility with a full counselor staff, cafeteria, bunk houses, etc.

I keep thinking to myself..."And just six months ago, we were living in Texas and Jack had never been on an airplane." Wow. I mean really wow. Jack, of course, is handling like a pro--he has a good circle of buddies forming. As long as I don't concentrate too much on sending my 10 year old on an international trip, then I'm okay, too.

I took him to the airport at 5:30 AM this morning. All the kiddos got checked in, and then the parents had to wait until they had all cleared with their passports and exit visas before we left the airport. What fun to sit and chat with the multi-national crowd of Moms and Dads.

Here are a few pictures from my phone:

Jack and buddies ready for the adventure.  Eight guys, eight nationalities I think.

 One last Mama hug and a big thumbs up.

Off he goes.
Did I mention that I am really really proud of my boy?

As I sat in the airport not knowing exactly what to think about this, I had a blast with our Facebook friends keeping me up to date on the TAMU-OU game.  We won! What a good way to start a work week. :)

Sidenote: Once the time changes in Texas, we'll be 9 hours ahead here...