My last week or so has been overwhelmed with Arabic words, and I've had my nose stuck in books all these days. I rotate my books - Arabic for a bit of studying and then I read an English book to give my mind a break and then back to the Arabic. Our current term technically doesn't finish until Wednesday, but we are taking off a bit early for a trip outside of the country. My husband has some meetings with his company and I have a number of appointments lined up with the beach and the bar. I'm only half joking. You can choose which half.

So instead of having a leisurely week of review and loads of time for studying like my fellow lucky-duck students, my husband and I have been cramming for two tests that took place today. Thankfully, I'm eating again, so this wasn't as difficult as it potentially could have been.

Our one class was difficult to study for because, frankly, I'm finding it really hard to build up the motivation to actually care about classical Arabic. I don't have a television, so I don't watch TV shows that use the classical Arabic, and the Arabic that is around me is, of course, the local dialect. (ask me what the Arabic word for dialect is, I totally know it). There was one exercise on the test that left me sweaty and stumped. I had no idea what I was doing and just ended up madly circling and underlining things, hoping that I got at least one correct answer. I was relieved to learn later that my smarty-pants husband also felt like he had bombed on that part.

The second test was much more difficult to prepare for because we were given 4 topics, of which we would pick ONE on test day and then immediately have to start talking about the topic. In the past, we've been given a myriad of topics to choose from and we can prepare one to talk about on test day. The previous way is much more nerve wracking because I had to prepare all 4 ahead of time. I spent a lot of time on the vocabulary for television and media and also language. I had cute little stories, quips and even the use of a new word in a sentence that went something like "expressions are connected with culture because it is through expressions that I can understand the culture" Genius! Instead, however, I chose "home and family" one of the most boring topics suggested. How could this happen to me? I thought Ramadan was supposed to be kareem (generous)! To top it all off, I was disappointed and flustered, so I forgot my ingenious phrase to go along with this topic that went something like, "we enjoy the view from our balcony" It would have been beautiful, too, because I had actually read over one of my previous written assignments and made a conscious effort to note the grammatical corrections. Once again, the cherry on the top of my misery sundae was when my husband said, "The written section was so hard because of having to change everything to plural." Change everything??? To plural? I so failed.

I'm trying to be excited about my impending travel (tomorrow morning we drive to the capital city and then fly out in the evening), but I keep thinking about the terrible performance I made on my test. I feel like I've bought something impulsively that is way out of my price range and I'm now regretting this decision, but there is no way to reverse the situation because the store's policy is no exchanges or refunds. I feel like I could puke and pee simultaneously. I'm a wreck. Could I be kicked out of school for being the stupidest student? Could I? I'm pretty sure they will make a plaque in my honour warning future students to "Beware of becoming a pinnacle of stupidity like White Girl."

Just like a local hospital whose name is "The Typical ((City name)) Hospital," where typically people die when admitted to the hospital regardless of the seriousness of their original condition, I am "The Typical Arabic Student" - brilliant in study but clams up in the test.

Oh! Guess what showed up? The other half of the joke about the appointments with the beach and the bar. It's the circle of life.

Another school year has begun and with it a brand new list of necessary school supplies. Even though he's in Grade 2, this was the first time I had to go shopping for school supplies for Charlie because last year in my "home" country, I opted to do the lazy thing and simply write a cheque for a flat fee. The school, miraculously, took my $40 and provided Charlie with everything he needed. I didn't have to buy him one crayon.

In the desert, they don't have flat fees that cover everything. In fact, they have what is termed as "Pay this amount now and then we'll come back to you later for more and then again, and again and again." It's called the never-ending-bill-plan. Take our rent for instance, we paid an entire year's worth of rent up front (because, generally, that's how it's done) and when the valve on the water tank broke, it was up to us to pay for the repairs. "You use the water tank," was the reason. "But it's a fixture of the house," was our rebuttal. "You use the water tank." End of story. Or the time that the sink backed up and when my knight in shining armour tried to take apart the plumbing underneath to clear it out, we discovered that said plumbing was held together by elastic bands and sealed with plastic bags. Seriously. When my knight couldn't get the hardware back together (we just don't have those plastic-bag-sealing-technique classes in the west), we had to call in more support. Again, the bill was our responsibility because "You use the sink." "But we weren't the ones to use plastic bags! It's not our fault!" was our rebuttal. "You use the sink." Boom. End.

No flat fee. Once you've paid, you can most certainly expect to pay again. And maybe even more later.

Last night, at 8 p.m., the family (meaning us) jumped into the car and headed downtown for some good ol' school supply shopping. I don't know why I didn't review my vocabulary words for things like, "blue plastic folder" or "molding clay" or "crayons" but I didn't and so a montage of grunting and wild hand motions ensued until the list was complete.

One word that I do know well is the Arabic word for notebook. The kind man brought over a few to show (sidebar: the stationary store is set up in such a way that everything is behind the counter and I must describe what I want in order to get it. Why? Why must this country require me to actually USE the language I'm learning? I just want some freaking CRAYONS! sidebar over) Charlie was delighted to see Superman notebooks and promptly picked out four with different designs.

I, on the other hand, nearly peed my pants when I saw this notebook:

Oh my gosh. The notebook says "Pee Pee" The notebook has Pee Pee on it. My inner 8 year old could not resist. I HAD to have it. I took it to school with me today and showed everyone my pee pee book.

But it gets better:

"PEE PEE, I love all the Beauteous Thing The Great Happiness."

I couldn't have said it better myself, frankly. Whenever I really have to go PEE PEE and I finally have the chance to visit the restroom, the words that always sing their way through my mind are, "I LOVE ALL BEAUTEOUS THING THE GREAT HAPPINESS!!"

Only two more days until I can eat food.

Technically, I ran out of maple syrup today and drank my last bottle of the lemon, maple syrup, cayenne pepper concoction. I can't say I will miss it. Then, the most magical thing happened. I was able to go off the cleanse and introduce a new taste to my now de-toxed taste buds: diluted, freshly squeezed orange juice. It was sublime.

Tomorrow, I will subsist on said diluted orange juice and then the next day I get to drink the broth from vegetable soup and then in the evening, I will break my fast by eating some vegetables from the soup. The next day, I will introduce fruits, vegetables and nuts to my colon. I can't wait. I keep looking at the bag of cashews in the cupboard, and drooling.

I could, also, really go for a big bowl of porridge with some sliced peaches on top.

I gave Charlie the big news today: Mommy will be able to eat again in two days. He gave me a very enthusiastic two-thumbs up. Charlie has been very concerned about me during this whole process, asking me each day how much longer I won't be eating, and pleading, "Why can't you just eat with us! I want you to eat with us!" I had no idea what an affect it would have on him. It's not like I've been requiring him to drink the "fast" as he thinks my drink is called, and I do join the family for meal times, I just don't eat anything. It does seem sweet, though, that Charlie can't quite enjoy his food the same when Mommy isn't eating.

Back to food, soon, Charlie. Don't worry!

So this is it, I'm on the home stretch of the world's worst cleanse. There were things that I cut out - the salt flush, because: ew, ew, and Eww! I tried it one day and it was the worst I've felt this whole time. It wasn't just forcing a liter of water mixed with sea salt down my throat (I cried a little and needed the bathroom mirror for moral support), it was the aftermath that I won't lay out in detail here, and the terrible chill, flu-like feeling I was left with for the rest of the day. Do you know how disconcerting it is to have the chills in the desert while everyone else is sweating? Let me tell you, very. And I may have fallen asleep a little in class to comfort myself.

Awww, Mom! I said "a little"! It wasn't a full blown nap.

Speaking of blow, we've been learning the words for the weather in class this week. One of the words is noun meaning "strong wind" and I would be lying to you if I said I haven't turned that noun into a verb. "Excuse me, did you just strong wind?" I'm not sure what it is about learning a new language, maybe it's the classroom setting that's taking me back a half step in maturity, but it doesn't always bring out the "best" me. *snicker*

So I'm past day 10 of my cleanse, and I'm feeling pretty good. I do miss chewing, though. I'm looking forward experiencing that sensation again. I have, however, had many interactions with food since my family wasn't willing to eat only beans from a can this entire time. The menu so far has included: barbecue chicken with pineapple pizza with a herbed thick crust, chili, homemade chicken vegetable soup, and a very simple crockpot recipe involving ground meat, pasta and vegetables that my family is NUTS over (sidebar: I neglected to bring the recipe book with me containing said recipe and had to make it from memory, which had marvelous results. Or so I hear). I also went to my neighbour's house to learn how to make samosas and experienced first-hand the frenzy in preparing the breaking of the fast feast. Multiple dishes in preparation, oil for frying nearly half of what is to be consumed, lots of activity, women moving here and there in the kitchen, calling out to each other and engaging each other in conversation. It's quite the ordeal. It reminded me a lot of preparing the big meal for Christmas, but they do this EVERY night for a month!

After I had learned samosa prep, I convinced my husband to buy me a deep fryer because I don't like the mess that deep frying can make when done in a pan or pot. Also, I figured that the best way to break my cleanse was eating a deep fried Snickers bar. ha! I joke. (but my heart does cry out a little in the darkness) I made my own filling (potatoes, carrots, onions and garlic with curry) and assembled my own samosas. Lola came into the kitchen and expressed her dismay, complete with furrowed brow, over the lack of cheese samosas. So, I obliged and made her several samosas stuffed with mozzerella cheese.

One thing I've found is not that being around food is torture. In fact, smelling is half of tasting, so I often breathe deeply around their food (they do find it slightly disturbing to have me hovering over their plates while they are trying to eat) and cooking helps me feel that at least I'm interacting with food. Also, I tend to think that everyone is always hungry. You know the saying, You have to wear a sweater when your mother is feeling cold. I've been overfeeding everyone. So, as I've been losing weight because I'm not consuming anything but lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper, my family has undoubtedly been gaining weight from the deep fried goodness I've been making.

Overall, I do think this cleanse has been beneficial. I feel good, albeit a tad snacky. And my pants are fitting a little looser, which is nice after my cheesecake binge over my birthday. I am thinking about doing this cleanse again in March. With all the white flour and sugar that I consume with the other desert dwellers, I imagine I will need a spring cleaning.

Who's with me?

Anyone?

Hello? Where did everybody go?

Happy Anniversary, my love.

Thirteen years.

I'm so glad it's you.

It's official. The month of feasting, I mean, fasting is upon us. I must say, that of all the differences and various traditions, this is one that confuses me the most. The month of Ramadan is traditionally the month where during the daylight hours nothing enters the body - no food, no water. Some especially devout will even spit out their saliva to avoid swallowing anything. This part doesn't confuse me at all because I've been raised to fast from time to time for spiritual discipline as well as physical well-being. The part that does confuse me is that although this is a month of fasting, the amount of food available and being sold is multiple times more than any other time during the year. The fasting only lasts during the daylight hours, which means that families get together after sunset and break the fast together each day with a feast of food. After the meal, they visit together and go about what they would usually do during daylight hours until it's time for another meal just before daybreak, which will be the last time anything is consumed (water included) until sunset. Essentially, what happens is that the days and the nights get switched. Sleeping during the daylight "fasting" hours. Eating and regular life activities during the nighttime hours. After some thought, I realized that while I was living on the west coast of North America, I fasted just as my friends here do, but every single day! When I'm trying to watch my calorie intake, I will not eat from 6 at night until breakfast in the morning. This break from eating could, potentially, stretch for up to 16 hours. EVERY DAY! If I want to be technical, I could claim that I'm much more spiritual than I had previously thought!

Perhaps my confusion is more a symptom masking the real issue: jealousy. The tradition I live in when it comes to fasting looks like this: independently choose when the fast will begin and end, choose what will be fasted (all food, meat only, television, etc), and the fast continues day and night for the length of the chosen fast. The breaking of the fast takes place when the entire fasting period has been completed. I've taken part in one meal, one day, one week and even 2 week fasts. Each is difficult in it's own way, and personally I prefer to take part in a longer fast because I find the first 3 days the most difficult regardless if the fast is for one day or 5. I have never taken part of a 30 or 40 day fast, and I know few who have. So, I understand the need for breaking the fast each night.

In the spirit of camaraderie, I decided to independently designate some time for fasting as well this month. Also, in the spirit of health, I've decided to try a cleanse using readily available ingredients. So, for the next number of days (it's still ingrained in me that I shouldn't divulge for how long I'm fasting for fear of being branded a show-off with a white face and pouty demeanor - I have failed this already in real-time, but this is my blog and I can hold onto the facade of piety if I like), I will be on the lemonade cleanse. And I may just document every little thing that I experience.

Right now? I have a headache and I'm feeling rather sleepy. The previously mentioned jealousy is coming into play as the aromas of my neighbours' soon-to-be-had feasts waft their way up in through my windows. I, on the other hand, get to "feast" on the juice of limes, maple syrup, water and cayenne pepper. Oh! And diuretic tea. Fun!

One of the perks of entertaining out-of-country guests is that these visitors can double as packing mules, hauling treats and essentials from abroad that aren't available to us in the desert. Things on my list of dreams included a variety of spices, chocolate chips, certain products to maintain my level of beauty (and hairlessness), and swimming suits. Being the planner that I am, I bought Lola a couple of swimming suits in bigger-for-her-at-the-time sizes thinking that she would use them in the future. Much to my horror, the poor girl experienced severe swimming attire wedgies and the size 4 was more like a size 3. I, too, had to put my swimming suit aside in the waste bin because the elastic on the tummy area began to disintegrate and was no longer offering the modest coverage that I was looking for in a tankini.


Lacing up my virtual walking shoes, I set out on the mission to find new bathing suits for myself and Lola. It didn't take me long to be seduced by the bright, flashy promises from one large department store for the greatest prices on EARTH. How can you argue with that? I found two cute little tankinis for my daughter (I have abandoned the idea of a one piece because a) the aforementioned butt wedgie and b) it's much easier to go "baffwoom" with a two piece). One tankini was Tinkerbell and the other Strawberry Shortcake. I'm not sure if Lola is so crazy about these characters but the inner-three-year-old me was cheering with joy.



I, again, cheered with joy when I found a cute tankini for myself from the brand that I had fallen in love over the past year. Thinking that they only had their own, independent store, I was pleasantly surprised to find them listed among the offerings at the department store. Equally surprising was finding that the bathing suit I loved was listed at an incredibly good price! So good, in fact, that looking back, it should have given me some cause for alarm, alerting me to the need to read further into the details. Instead, I was blinded by the seduction of the site's "lowest price on the planet earth" claims and placed my order without another thought.



Two months passed between me placing the order, my inlaws picking up the order, and me picking up the bathing suit from among the other splendid treats in the only suitcase dear friend brought with her (you know that a friend really, truly loves you when she travels with a suitcase packed with goods for you and resorts to packing all her necessities for a 10-day stay into her carry on. That is love.)


At first I was confused, "Maybe there is a second package under all these other things?" Then I got worried, "Did the store mess up my order and, now, two month later, I'm just getting wind of it? Are they going to do anything about it at all?" Finally, I got active, checking my email confirmation and the dread set in when I realized that it was clearly stated that I had, indeed, only purchased the bottom half of the desired tankini set.




The down-side to shopping online is that there is no sales associate to scream at or cry to or stare at with a gaping wide mouth when you find out that there are no longer any of the tops available that match the bottoms that you bought two months ago. There is no one to listen bemusedly as you cry your way through the sob story that is your life; one dramatic story of adjusting to a very modest culture only to be smacked in the face with the European culture that you had thought you'd left behind.

I now have two choices. One, I can hope beyond hope that my dear, generous, beautiful, sweet, kind, loving, affectionate, incredible (do you think she's reading this, yet?), funny, intelligent, compassionate friend will be able to find a top that matches the bottoms. I sent the bottoms back with her to be sure that if there is anything remotely close to matching, all the guess work will be taken out of the venture. Second, I could just become culturally schizophrenic - covering my hair, arms, legs, ankles, and (occasionally) my face in one country and then showing everything along with my jiggly bits in another.

If there ever was a time to pray, it's now.

Dear God, It's me, white girl. I need a shirt.