thanksgiving: missing family, friends and stuffing

distracted by my soon-to-be termination of this segment of my life, i realize that it is thanksgiving.

every time i miss a holiday, away from my family, i feel it.  a gap in my year that needs to be made up, at a later time.  i am lucky to have a family that understands that it is not the date that matters, but the gathering of family.  so i look to the forward, and see my stuffing waiting for me in april (or whatever date that i feel the pull of home stronger than that of the cleansing and rejuvenation of the road).

if this day we are to state the things in which we are thankful for i offer up thanks for the luck that has given me the people that are my family and friends, as well as all my life experiences (both gains and losses)-a life that has been most interesting.  and as a nod to the immediate, i also am thankful that this particular segment of my life has passed and that i am transitioning to a different one.

sometimes you need a little bukowski

a couple of my favorites, on day four-left.

7

single-digit loveliness.  seven days shy of a new day and the open road; life on the whim of fate soon my reality.

funny, looking back at the time that i have passed through, it feels as though it was both a moment and an eternity.  i can see and feel how it has been a great distance that i covered, concurrently seeing and feeling that it was also a short moment...a case of doublethink?  or better yet, doublememory?

regardless, here i am simultaneously on the cusp of an ending and beginning, and enjoying every minute of it.

memento / oblivisci 2

Things I want to remember, things I need to forget.

memento:

my first class 

my last class

the Jeddah 'church'

a good boss 

location appropriate signage

old Jeddah

old Jeddah

old Jeddah

teaching filmmaking 

mosque truckstops

the exhilaration of driving as fast as you like

driving the long stretch of desert to Jeddah

random objets d'art 

                                                    lightning in the desert

oblivisci:

Saudi drivers

a bad boss

aftermath

the things expats in saudi say 1

When you come to Saudi Arabia, you bring two suitcases with you.
One is labeled bullshit, the other is labeled money.  When either of them gets full, it's time to leave.
(Andrew Reiley/2007)

exit strategy

Three weeks to go and another nail in the coffin of my time here firmly hammered in place: ticket purchased.

Whenever I have left a place, it has always been a bittersweet affair.  Excited to head to the next experience, but sad to be leaving friends/family, well earned familiarity and a cache of favorite places.  I hate to think/say/write this, but my departure from here has none of that.  I am leaving a place for which I have no positive feelings.  Looking at that sentence, I feel a bit sad.  And as I have had an exceptionally bad run for the last several months or so (someone purposfully running into me, stones thrown at me from teenagers and many instances of another's selfishness and impatience).

To make the taste of this place even more bitter, I am engaged in a tit-for-tat with my overseers to see who can extract the most capital from whom.   I attempted to avoid this as I followed the letter of the contract, giving as much notice as possible.  Luckily and intuitively I also kept my exact details as close to the chest as possible.  From the beginning I could tell that this was going to be an ordeal. 

First, the initial company that I signed on (guess it is what I get for making a pact with the devil-defense contractor) with did what so many American companies do these days-sold us off to subcontractors.  Then, the Saudi company now holding the contract decided to switch the rules on me (as these days contracts are called memorandums of understanding-so are as malleable as clay)-loss of holidays, lack of departure support and not allowing me to use my remaining holidays to fill out my last months.  So I decided to stay longer, as I had accounted for that money in my budget for travel.  Then they decide to not pay my soft landing package.  Enough being enough, I turned to my conniving side (not proud of it) and I switched my departure date to recoup loss of pay and to a more expensive date (cash in lieu, thank you very much).  Now they say that I owe for overspent vacation, and its my turn to volley back.  Quick with my accounting, I quickly had to show my days.  This possibly sounds petty, but as I have bartered the last three years of my life for a trunk of gold, I want what was agreed upon in full.  Or maybe I see the neck of the golden goose on the chopping block and I am scrounging for any last scrap of shell that I can stuff in me pockets-greedy am I?

I can't wait to clear this place and see which voice has been telling me the truth these last three years and to recalibrate my ego/psyche/soul.  It is very possible that the old me would have disowned me years ago.

chunk-drunk-hunk-monk

Coping mechanisms are grand, aren't they?

The ways in which we deal with stress, although many, can be distilled into the basic four pathways:  chunk-drunk-hunk-monk.  Living abroad, not only do you face the regular everyday stress points, but a whole slew of additional ones.  My sister introduced me to these four general categories, which are related to high stress locations, which I do think Hawiyah (not even Taif), Saudi Arabia is one.

Chunk

Lately this has been the most difficult coping strategy to avoid.    Legal and little effort, it is so easy to turn to a tub of chocolate ice cream or extra-cheese pizza when one is feeling down.  I have struggled with this one the most, and it seems like just when I have it beat, some difficulty elbows its way into my life and I get overwhelmed and head to the convenience store on compound (which has the sorriest selection of food- all processed-which I guess is what people go to for convenience and comfort).

Drunk

I have fluctuated in and out of all four, but have successfully dropped drunk (drinking the gawd awful bathtub gins and smoking) about two years ago.  When I first got here, I was invited to several American consulate parties where they had great scotch, but poor company.  I tired of that and then started going to compound parties and bars.  The fuel for these places tended to be sidiki (which is Arabic for 'my friend'), basically home-stilled, impure grain alcohol.  Drinking various concoctions with sid left me feeling terrible the next day (nothing worse than a sid hangover), and so it was easy to stop.

Hunk

Of course this is the most difficult strategy to maintain.  When I am on and have energy, and as I have so much free time on my hands, I am able to walk eight miles, head to the gym for a workout and the return home to cook a tasty healthy meal.  But I swear, this place just sucks the life out of me.  After returning from teaching, which this semester I have really been enjoying as I have a good group of guys, I am spent. Part of being a teacher is being a performer, mixing it up so that your students don't bore of the content.  This takes preparation and positive energy, which drains you.

Monk

Currently, and for the past year or so, I have definitely adopted the strategy of monk.  Life here, working, living and sharing with the same people has increased the appeal.  I see these people at work, live on the same small isolated island-compound and must share cars and the escape villa in Jeddah with them.  So socializing for me, has been easy to shed.  The moment I return from work, I try my best to not encounter anyone.  Nothing personal, but when spending that much time with people without a choice, when I am able to choose, I now always choose to be alone.



Well, as my future holds less than two weeks of teaching, and four weeks total, I have been abiding by the hunk-monk routine.  I can only imagine how long it will take me to leave this place to memory, and recompose the person that I was/am.  I view it as a process of decompression, which I hope the travels that are in my future assist me with, as I become.