Sugar.

Saturday afternoon I mixed up a big jug of Tang for our fourth grade boys that take over the living room most days of the week. I also had a double batch of peanut butter cookies for them to try. Nice, right? Beside the fact that one requested I make sandwiches for them (not pb&j, but tuna or chicken would be fine) they all noted that I did not add any additional sugar to the Tang. I made strong Tang, so thick it looked like neon orange milk. I remember how I liked my powdered drinks in fourth grade, and I tried to make these boys realize how hip I am to the nine year old taste bud.  However, they were disappointed that there was not a sweet sludge of extra sugar granules at the end of each glass. I guess I just don't understand Arab taste, and I am not blind to health.

Tang made in Bahrain

In a discussion with Nora's Pediatrician about breastfeeding he advised that, "You should take your supplements, because they will not make you fat." and "To boost your milk supply you need to drink a lot of liquids, like juice. But do not add any sugar to your orange juice." At the time I tried to tell myself that people do not add sugar to orange juice, he must have meant that I look for juices with no sugar added, and not to drink Tang.  Later that week when I was visiting downstairs, the woman was getting fed up with me because I would not take any sugar in my tea. "You need sugar to make your milk, you need extra, extra sugar!" she said as she added spoon after spoon into my drink. I didn't say much, smiled and drank my Ceylon and mint syrup.

I observed more, and began to think that maybe these people would add sugar to their orange juice. Michael has come home telling me horrific stories of men adding 13 sugar cubes to small cups of tea. When he confronted the Phys. Ed. teacher at his school about his sugar use, he said, "Who tells you sugar is bad?! It can not make you fat! Who tells you this?"

I finally saw it the other night. We were taken out for dinner by a family who's boy Mike had taught. The mother sat across from me. She was a short, round woman with a bright face and a gaudy taste in jewelry. She ordered no food, but she did request a single glass of orange juice and a glass of ice. I watched all night as she opened sugar packets and dumped five or six over the ice. Then she would pour about an inch of juice over it, stir it with the end of her knife, and sip it like a cocktail. Repeat. The juice lasted the whole meal this way, and probably had twenty five to thirty sugar packets mixed in. At the end of the evening we ordered coffee. She ordered cappuccinos for me and herself, and mentioned to the waiter, "Extra sweet for the ladies, please!" Thank god it came unsweetened with an extra row of sugar packets on the side. I stopped watching her sugar, I didn't want to understand how much "extra sweet" was to her.

As for the boys, I refuse to add extra sugar to the Tang. It is the first ingredient, and I already added extra mix to the water. Also, I think it will be apples and bananas for snack the rest of the week. I can't wait to see what the reaction is when I start throwing veggies in there for them. "Teacher, what is this?"

Fulla loses her religion.

So, I am not going to lie. We did part of Christmas a little early. In the car on the way home from Toys R Us, early. Mariam has been talking a lot about dolls lately, so I thought I would gift her one that was a little more grown up than the babies she already has. I have been curious about these "Fulla" dolls since I got here. It is basically a Muslim Barbie, complete with headscarf and abaya.

We were at the store and Fulla was a little cheeper than Barbie and had dark hair, two things that really appeal, not to mention how novel the idea was to me. I picked out a basic model from the "Fruity Abaya" line. Lemon-Mint Fulla came all wrapped up in her black outdoor clothes. On the back of the box you could see the outfit she had on underneath, double the wardrobe!

I took the box out in the car to look at it on the way home. Of corse Mariam saw it right away from her newly forward facing car seat, "DOLL! DOLL! DOLL!" I tried to put Lemon-Mint back in the bag and tears and shouting erupted. We had a slow and stressful drive (as always here) ahead of us, so I gave in and took Fulla out of the box. I probably wanted to see her more than Mare did anyway. I handed the doll to Mariam I could hear velcro being ripped and then a frustrated, "OUT"! Lemon-Mint was given back to the front seat to have her Abaya removed. It came off relatively easy, but her headscarf seemed to be securely attached. On the back of the box Fulla had flowing hair and no scarf on with her casual shirt and stretch pants. I thought the headscarf would have an easy off, but like lots of kids toys, the box was a little deceptive. I made some joke to Michael about Fulla having to be inside with the door shut before the headscarf could come off, also he probably shouldn't see her sans abaya since she isn't related to him.

We got home and I did a full inspection of Lemon-Mint with Mariam watching intently over my shoulder. We took off all her clothes. Fulla has incredibly skinny arms and much smaller boobs than Barbie does. She also has built in underwear that goes down to her knees and a square neck undershirt that most women in America would wear as just a shirt. Her fashionable little headscarf was not coming off. I told Michael to get me the scissors. I could see it was attached by little black plastic loops implanted into her head. It was hard to tell if it was supposed to stay that way or if it was like the other 1,000 pieces of plastic and wire bands that I had to take off to get Fulla out of the box. I decided along with Mariam, "OFF". Oops, I totally killed Lemon-Mint's modesty, and she was a Christmas gift, what am I doing to this young skinny Muslim doll! It was not meant to come off. Her hair was just sort of long black and hacked, not at all like the styled photo, I guess you have to do that yourself.

Mariam loves it by the way, she has taken off the clothes about 90 times already.

I did some more finding out Fulla. I checked out her website to find gems like this:

Under the "Learning" link there is a section titled "Dressing Modest". There you can find recipes for a fairer face and one to take care of your rough and ugly feet, articles about what fabric patterns to choose to flatter your figure, what your wardrobe style says about your personality type and one called "Food Makes You Prettier, But?" It is like an issue of Cosmo aimed at six year olds, nothing about dressing modestly.

My favorite is the "Inspiring Words" section. It just says, "Better be a cub in the family of lions than be a king of the Ostriches." Really? Fulla is hating on Ostriches now?

I am sure there are stranger things written in the "Whispers" section. Thats where they give some girl advice. I am really too tired to read all that right now though, and kinda weirded out.

Merry early Christmas.

backwards month.

Mariam and I arrived back from our visit to the States (yes I can call it that now that I don't live there) on August 9th. It was a great flight considering how pregnant I was and that I had an almost 2 year old in tow. Anyway, we retuned to Saudi Arabia and found it in a very unfamiliar state to us, Ramadan.

To keep it simple Ramadan is THE Muslim holiday, it goes on for a whole month. You can do more research if you don't know much about it, or want to know the religious aspects of it. This is how it appears to me:

1) Muslims don't eat or drink during the day.
Exceptions are pretty broad for this, ranging from if you are traveling to if you just plain old don't feel well. This means no restaurants are open during the day! What a sad but healthy time for a pregnant lady. I can't get Burger King when I want it, and by the time it opens I have talked myself out of the craving and have eaten a bunch of veggies at home.

2) Extra prayers happen.
Muslims pray five times a day. In Saudi Arabia the mosques broadcast the prayers over speakers. We live right next to one, it can be loud. I am pretty used to it happening and sleep through the early prayer, but now there are extra prayers. At about 9PM they start the normal evening one. During Ramadan though, it goes on and on and on as they read parts of the Koran for about an hour. Now, in this last week of the holiday, they do extra prayers that start about 1AM and go for what seems like an hour. I am sure this is pleasant and a reflective time for Muslims, but this 1 in the morning thing has me crabby.

3) People here stay up ALL NIGHT.
That is why the 1AM thing is just fine with them. Since they are not eating or drinking during the day, lots of people have work off, so they sleep all day (cheaters). The Malls and everything are open till 3:30 in the morning for Ramadan. We will go out for shopping at about 9:30 (the Koran reading time) to catch slow traffic. We leave the shops at about 11:30PM, just as everyone starts to come! Little kids and old people filling up Ikea at midnight! It is an unbelievable thing to me. I have participated though, we had our 8 year old neighbor boy with us bowling and playing arcade games till 2AM, totally acceptable. Traffic is awful too, everyone is out and everyone is visiting Jeddah. I can't decide if it is a bad or good thing we came into this from 8 time zones over, Mariam is keeping up a little too well with this night/party life.

4) They buy a lot of things and eat a ton of sweets.
Stores are packed with sales and customers. Extra aisles are put up at the grocery store for baked goods and candy. Hey, sounds a lot like Christmas... only for a whole month!

5) Decorations get put up around shops and all over packaging.
I guess there is not an official theme, but most places have a little extra blue, white, silver and gold around. Moons and stars also show up everywhere as well as fancy lanterns. Places smell nicer too, lots of extra incense are burnt it seems like. I have seen some houses with white christmas lights up and some neighborhood streets with big strings of light bulbs zig zagging from building to building. Some small neighborhood restaurants also put a little red and blue patterned tent out front, so they can better serve people when eating time comes around.

An example of a Ramadan Pepsi can

6) As well as eating extra candy, they have huge dinners every night.
To break the day's fast at sunset Muslims typically eat dates and have a little drink of milk or water. Then comes the heaps of food. Michael, Mariam and I were invited to a real "Iftar" dinner here, hosted by one of Michael's friend's families. I will write a whole separate post about this experience to save this one from being unbearably long. It was a lot of food. I asked the one english speaking woman in the room if dinner was this big every night, and she laughingly replied, "yes"! They also eat a very large meal just before morning prayers and fasting starts again (or just before bed for a lot of folks).

7) Everyone seems extra nice after the sun goes down.
Full bellies and good times with family and friends lead to happy people. They shoot fireworks into the sea, fill up the amusement parks, malls, and playgrounds, and give extra money to poor people. It is better to not try and interact with the outside during the day. People are hurried and irritable from fasting, they can smell funny too. Also, a fasting driver at 6PM is just about as safe as a mildly drunk driver. We have just been staying in getting a lot of things done and wasting a lot of time on the internet. Michael starts work back up next week when this is all over.

Our neighbor kids put this Happy Ramadan sign up downstairs by the door. I thought it was cute so I got them some gummy bears.

8) To finish it all off they have like a bonus three day holiday.
Eid Al-Fitr. Here is an informative article (with recipes!) http://en.news.maktoob.com/20090000998672/Eid_Al-Fitr_Ramadan_s_sweet_ending/Article.htm

That is my experience with Ramadan so far. Totally not a technical, religious, or probably even entirely correct interpretation, but again my experience. It has been heartwarming and also aggravating at times, but over all very interesting to see a whole country take part in something like this holiday.

Do they know it's Easter? Or Christmas?! ummm... not really.

A friend of mine asked me to share my observations about the middle east perceptions of the coming Christian holiday. In Saudi Arabia, they don't really think about it. A large portion of the people probably don't even know about it, or know much about it.

Around the holidays Michael and I were discussing if our friend from Yemen was familiar with Christmas. My bet was that he had heard of it, and maybe saw Santa on TV or something. I knew he watched American movies and things, so I figured he had picked it up at some point. Michael thought that he probably knew nothing about it. I had trouble imagining that. We asked, and he had no clue what we were talking about. Why should he? This man grew up a Muslim in Yemen, and moved to Saudi Arabia a few years ago to find better work. If you look at the pure numbers in Jeddah, I am sure this is a version of the average citizen, legal or otherwise.

Then there are the people that are much better off than our Yemeni friend. This is the other half of the population here. They have TV and books and movies and American cars and clothes. Lots of them have been to America, or at least their dad has on business or something. The kids seem to be aware of the more commercial parts of other holidays. You can't watch many cartoons without a Halloween episode or a Santa sneaking in. But again, they just don't really care. I met a girl my age, an upper class girl who's father travels back and forth to America quite a bit. Her English was good, she had gone to University and studied English lit. We were talking and it was reviled that I was not a Muslim. I am pretty sure that she had never considered that I was not. What am I doing in Saudi Arabia as a non Muslim? Less than 5% of the population here is something other than Muslim! I think I was the first person she had met, who was not serving her dinner, that was non Muslim. We talked about it. She was really glad to be a Muslim, and had never even thought about exploring another religion. But man! She really wanted to go to America.

I was surprised to see hints of Easter popping up at the grocery store this month. You hear a lot of things about this country banning other holidays and practices. But I think in Jeddah, that idea is just a lot of talk to keep the older conservative people and the stricter parts of the country happy. You can find aisles of bunny, lamb, and chick stuffed animals with the toys. There are displays of Easter candy at the front of some stores, and you can buy little fake lilies. Again, you just can't escape the commercialism and western influences here. I can't get a ham, but I can load up on jellybeans and chocolate eggs. Happy Easter.

Coming from a place where the population is 75% Christian, especially if you practice it, I know it has to be hard to imagine a land without Christmas or Easter. But, how much do you really know about Ramadan off hand? It is the same, but backwards here. Growing up in a Muslim country you just really don't know a whole lot about Christian holidays, and you really don't mind. You can still get the candy.


As for the dyed baby chicks they give away as prizes at the arcade, they have been out of them the two times we took our neighbor boy to win one. He says they die quickly anyway (with one shot of the BB gun)!

fair and lovely.

Saudi Arabia is a land of many wonderful beauty products for me. The shelves are filled with so many choices of deep conditioning treatments and moisturizing body scrubs that Michael Abraham circles the grocery store four times by the time I have narrowed it down to a couple choices. My hair and skin is very happy here, for the most part.

They have about every cream and lotion here that they do back in the states, except my old favorite Curél. That was my secret back home, put Ultra Strength Curél all over my face like three times a day. Try it, it works. So I have been on the search for a new facial moisturizer. Jergens body lotion just does not cut it. You would think with all of these other perfect products that I should have no problem. Well, here it is: They have Olay and L'oréal and Garnier and Ponds, all the normal brands. The issue with them is that most of the facial creams are bleaching creams. "Natural White" "Fair and Lovely" "White Beauty" "White Perfect" Night, day, oily, dry... they are almost all skin whiteners as well as your standard cream.


This is an interesting clip I saw a few years ago about skin bleaching in Jamaica.

Now, I am pretty sure that all these big name brands do not use hardcore chemicals in their creams, they stick to the well received alpha hydroxy acids and natural extracts. They just like the label, it sells. But if you look on the bottom shelves you can find off brand creams filled with melanin inhibitors and sometimes mercury. I have seen quite a few oddly fair complexioned women with some pretty scary acne and scars that I assume are caused by these products.

This is the story that takes the cake though. A few weeks ago, we ran into one of Michael's co-workers with his family. They had just had a baby girl. I was talking with the woman and I peeked into the little bundel she had in her arms. All snuggled up was a tiny girl with long dark eyelashes, creamy almond skin, and gold earrings. "She is beautiful!" I was not even just saying that, she was so warm and peaceful. The woman sighed and looked down at her new baby, "She is not beautiful. She is DARK." I was bothered by this. I did not know how to respond. We soon parted ways and I asked Michael if maybe it was some sort of communication error, something lost in translation, even though I felt that it really was not. The next day he went and had a talk with his co-worker. Michael asked about what his wife had said to me. His response was something like, "I love my daughter, she is very lovely in her own way, but she is dark. Her brother is so beautiful with his light skin, but she is dark."

WTF. Really!?! I still think of this every day. I hope this baby girl's skin can not hold her back, I hope her parents outgrow this "hurdle" of her being "dark", I really hope she does not feel pressure to smear on chemicals ever. She is Saudi, what color is she suposed to be!

It is terrible to think of all these white girls in the United States becoming orange and addicted to tanning, and at the same time girls over here are scrubbing and peeling and soaking their skin with chemicals to become whiter. It all can cause skin cancer. Please just enjoy your natural color, for your health and bank accounts!

The Strange Day.

Mariam and I slept in. We got up, did our stuff. Everything was normal till I started to make lunch. I took a chicken out of the fridge and got it ready for cooking. I peeled off two layers of plastic and lifted the chicken out of the little styrofoam boat it had been sitting it. I brought the chicken over to the sink to rinse it off and rub it with seasoning, I turned the body over and saw that the wings still had a bunch of boney looking, sharp pin feathers in them. Ish. I thought to myself, "This is fine (blah) it's normal. I am going to pull these out and enjoy my meat." I have cleaned deer, made dead geese dance, eaten fish with eyes, but for some reason this grossed me out. It was processed, it was not suposed to be like that! Pin feathers are hard to get out and I can now see how a few stayed attached after the meat processing plant had it's hands on it. I had to squeeze them out, like removing a splinter or popping a giant pokey zit. Mike got home with sandwiches when the chicken was half done. We decided to have it for dinner. A really fun picnic dinner by the sea! with tea! and chess! A good idea.

I cooked the chicken up with some fava beans and chick peas, green peppers and onions. We packed some cheese and crackers, fig bars, tea and water. The two of us managed to get all that and Mariam out the door right at sunset. The Red Sea is about a five minute drive from our apartment. The shore is all developed pretty well, with sidewalks and plenty of little gazebos and benches for anyone to use. The sun was sinking down quicker than I wanted it to, so we pulled off at a close spot where there is a wave breaker and little stone piers for people to picnic on. A few groups of people had claimed some of the piers, but there were lots open. A nice one in the middle looked like it was just for us. I got out of the car and a cute little garbage cat came up to me. It followed me and my chicken out to the end of the pier where Mike had set out the blanket and these humps we have so that you can lean comfortably as you sit on the ground (I am not sure what they are called, they are popular here). Mariam was rolled out in her stroller. Everything was set for fun! I opened the pot of chicken. All of a sudden little eyes and ears and tails popped out of the rocks.

Garbage cats everywhere! They came closer, all sizes and colors. Some were brave, some scared off easily. They wanted my chicken that I had worked so hard on trying to enjoy. They had scary looks in their eyes. It was so hard for me, my brain is wired to love cats. I got up and stomped on the ground and banged my shoes and tried to shout at them. The guys next to us must have thought we were the stupidest, most entertaining things. Mike "PSSSSSSSSSSSTED" at them, but garbage cats do not know that language. They kept coming. We were trying to stick it out. Mariam was not in danger, the cats would not come that close. We lasted about two minutes before I said I was uncomfortable. I got up, looked down the rocky edge of our pier to check out the cat situation, and I saw it. It was as big as a cat, shaped like a half moon.

A big grey rat was sitting there in the dark, about four feet up from the salt water. The cats could care less. They were not going to help me in this situation like any decent cat would. These were BAD cats. I bet they team up with this thing. That was it. We ran out of there. We drove up the shore to our usual, clean, bright, populated spot. I checked for rats unter the car seat, in the pot with the chicken, and in my purse. Arrgah! We got a new clean cat and rat-less spot and tried to eat the chicken. Neither of us could stomach it. Lesson learned: if not a lot of people are there, and it seems like a really nice place, it is not. Get out.

Arabic Coffee

Here is how to make one crazy pot of this stuff:

Grind up a bunch of light roast coffee till you have about 3/4 of a cup, or get some pre-ground. The finer the better, think powder.
Grind up some cardamom, about a 1/4 of a cup!
Grate some ginger, about a teaspoon.
If you are fancy get a 1/4 teaspoon of saffron.

Boil 3 cups of water on the stove, add coffee, cover, and continue to boil on a low heat for about 15 to 20 min.
Add cardamom, ginger, and your saffron. Let boil another 3 to 5 min.
Remove from heat, let sit for 5 minutes.
Pour into your thermos or coffee pot unfiltered. You can leave the goopy stuff in the pot from the stove or keep it with your coffee. It all settles to the bottom anyhow.



It is a pretty intense brew. They eat it with dates here to make up for the bitterness. I like the taste. Don't go adding any sugar either, all you true Minnesotan black coffee drinkers should be fine with it anyway.

I make this for Mike before he has to go to work2: tutoring fourth graders.

Arranged Friendship.

When you move anywhere different I suppose it is hard to meet new people and make new friends. When you are a girl who has had trouble all her life feeling comfortable enough to make friends with ease, it is extra tough. I said to Michael tonight what I have been thinking about for the past few days, "It takes me a good six to eight months of working/schooling with someone every day in order for me to even think about being comfortable hanging out on a weekend." He laughed and said he was going to write that one down. I told him I would write it down. It is true, and I will not be slow to admit it! I feel more comfortable giving a presentation to a room full of 150 college students than I do riding in a car with a girl I have worked with for a few months. I would love to just wear a shirt that says, "shy and slow to warm up". Maybe people would have a bit of empathy for me and not just think I was being rude, which is what my anxiety ridden mind figures most people come to believe.

One of the reasons I married Michael and had the guts to follow him across the world is that he holds the opposite friendship making power. He has made plenty of friends here already. I knew we wouldn't just be lonely shut ins here in Jeddah, even if I think sometimes that I want to be. We have been invited to many lunches, dinners, and outings to the sea. A challenge for me here is that traditionally when you go to dinner at someone's home, the husbands go to one room and the wives go to another for the entire night. I have refused each and every invitation like this so far. I can not go without my Michael Abraham shield, and I just feel that it is wrong and a strange thing to do. If we are invited to the co-worker who I have head so much about's home for dinner, I want to meet him, not just his wife in another room. I put the burden on poor Michael to explain to them that I am not comfortable with this set up, and sometimes people comply and sometimes we just don't go. This is something I am planning on getting over (eventually) just to be more polite. :P

Last night I went to our friend's villa for dinner with just Mariam. We have been to their home several times as a family, and I had met this couple before we even moved. So I am finally somewhat comfortable sitting alone with this woman. My arranged friend Fartun. That is what it feels like to me, an arranged friendship. We don't know much about each other, we didn't pick each other. But, we are two Minnesotains in a strange country, and our husbands are good friends. So we are friends. She is really nice, and we are getting to know each other. I still feel great anxiety over this arrangement. What if she doesn't like me and we just have to hang out because we feel obligated?

Mariam and her arranged friend Thaina

If you don't work, and you don't get out much in Minnesota, you really never ever meet new friends. Here the socializing is different. Perhaps one of my biggest social nightmares came true tonight. We were at a mall (big surprise) and Mike saw a student he knew from school. A kid who is in a different grade than he teaches, but he knew him because the boy has such a reputation for being a trouble maker. Mike waved and said hello, and we went over and met his mother and little sister. His mother is a Moroccan who grew up in London, so her english is perfect. She seemed a little older, and had that agressive middle eastern hospitality along with diamonds all over her. She asked how I liked it here (fine), if I had friends (yes), if I was working (not right now). Michael chimed in on the last one that maybe later, when I became more adjusted here. She replied, "Oh she does not need any time! It is good here, easy to get used to, not like in America or Europe!" Then she asked me for my mobile number and said that we could get lunch one day and that my little girl could come too. Ok...
EAT LUNCH WITH A STRANGER! NO! GIVE MY NUMBER TO A STRANGER! NO! Mike does not even really know her son! Why is this happening! I was conditioned a little to heartily with stranger danger as a kid, and I still have not gotten over it. Michael says this is how people do it here. You learn someone's name and then you go do things with them, no thoughts about it. Bah. I want to toss my phone into the Red Sea and hide with the garbage cats. What if this woman calls!?

I know what I have to do about all of this though. My dad has told me since I was six. Get over it, look people in the eye, and say hello.