I’m Still Deciding

Posted on October 25, 2016 by TheJessicaness
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studying Business Comm. to the scent of amber-honey

I recently got asked what I want to be when I grow up. Short answer: I don’t know. Long answer: some people wake up as toddlers and know what they want to be and they make it their reality. Others, think they know and jump into that for a decade or two. Some like to jump around or stall (that’s me), and others never find the motivation to begin.

I enjoy procrastinating and making excuses. I did plenty of both in regards to going back to school. Maybe I had enough inner discipline to teach myself (how we learn most things – talking, eating, driving, etc.) or job applications tell me I need a bachelor’s degree or five years experience, so I went with the faster option – a two-year degree. Is it really a job I want to do, perhaps not, but it’s in the direction of what others seem to want for me…

I struggled with this decision, and I still do, but I’m currently enrolled in three classes. It took a lot of effort on Caleb’s part to get me there, and for that I’m grateful (even if I don’t express it enough). It’s a chance to get out of the house. Though I could be out getting paid at a job and gaining experience or squandering another opportunity, it’s easier to pay someone else to take up my time than to job hunt – at least it was for me at the time.

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a cup of zen to keep me going

I’m beginning to see how sociologists label some people as Stability Seekers. We are willing to do the same thing every day because it works, even if we don’t completely agree with it because it’s a comfort zone. I’m happiest outside of that, brain and body, so I should strive to keep them there. Change might be slow, but it should be a definite part of my goals to achieve.

I signed up for Business Communications (how to email) and Business Law (haven’t started yet) and Sociology (the nature of human nature). Two classes relate to one degree and since the third class I needed wasn’t open for the short-term I signed up for another that ties into many fields. I was nervous about class on the first day. It had been five years since I’d sat in a classroom on a different coast going for a different degree.

My first class is on Monday and Wednesday nights and taught by a man raised in the 80s who wanted to major in history. We went around the class sharing something about ourselves. It’s an older crowd; people who have found their way back to school. The guy in front shook Obama’s hand and sits beside his son who graduated high school a year early and his daughter who’s got a year left.

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Sociology 101, notes in class

The girl up front is someone I recognize from boot camp (12 years ago) and stayed in the Navy for 10 years before getting out, helping friends run a business, and then selling her portion. One guy has three high school diplomas from three countries. Another taught himself how to play piano, starting at age 6, because it was available in church. My statement would go along with the other uninteresting ones in the room, but I was impressed.

The attitude of the room is laid back and the professor wants lots of participation in conversation. I have to hold my tongue frequently to not overwhelm the meaning of the lesson and the few others when they speak up. I thought three hours at a time would be too much, but the time flies and the mid-class break affords us a moment to catch a glimpse of the debate being shown on the TV in the break corner at the end of the hall. My class is being taught at MCRD (the Marine Corps Recruit Depot) and is twenty minutes from home via highway.

I get spoiled by the first week of free parking for Sociology and drive around the City College campus for 20 minutes to find a $10 parking spot 15 minutes away. I would buy the parking pass, which I should have done online already, but I don’t want to be late to class. There are three rows of tables and the ones on the right are filling up with girls on the left. My night class is 2/3 women, but the majority of Business Comm. is guys. The professor engages with us while we wait the ten minutes for the official start time of the class.

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hello outside

This room feels different. The walls and floor are gray, as are the shades covering the window, so though I want to feel gloomy (remembering the happiness this color brought me in my childhood bedroom) there is a young woman up front commanding my attention with her smile, accent, and outfit – only on Tuesdays. Something about me stands out and I will be the first name she learns, minus Paul, whom she already knows. It could be the fact too that I think I’m the only one in class with notes.

A girl in the corner discusses technology that’s been around for a decade as if it’s been around as long as math, and part of me thinks about how difficult this class could be for someone if they were unaware of these processes, now so simple to parts of society. I’m told to bring in a résumé for review and to prepare for a presentation at the end of the semester. I can feel my heart rate increase, but there’s also a sense of calmness. I knew this was coming and I’ve handled it before – and I asked for it.

The night class waits for the professor to dismiss us. This class makes a racket to shove their notebooks back into their bags to hurry off somewhere making the professor apologize (as they leave early). I suppose there’s an interesting factor in returning to school every couple of years, and taking a random class, to gain insight into the new teenage norms of what will soon be released into the real world. Most of them aren’t engaged in the class, and at least six were on their phones.

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I’m in classroom Delta

I gather my things and make my way to the accounting office to buy my $20/semester parking pass. Then I have to walk across campus to the police office, going through the cosmetology building (maybe not bad to paint hair and nails for a grade), to pick up my sticker. It’s a good thing I didn’t settle for the two-hour parking, as I’ve definitely gone over that limit. I head for home to get lunch before buying a $50 access code to my partially online class.

I look forward to the lessons learned in and out of the classroom. Caleb is doing physical therapy for his back (really hurt it on a diving trip), so he’s been taking the car to work (no riding bikes in the morning together) and is gone before I wake. I pack his lunch (when he doesn’t) and then we get to make dinner together before he goes to bed and I go back to reading. I’ve got a stack of books I started before class, the textbooks needed for class, a PDF version open in a tab, and recently stumbled on Kindle for Android – I’m addicted.

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Till It’s Gone

Posted on October 24, 2016 by TheJessicaness

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I’ve heard it before. You don’t miss something till it’s gone. It’s not that I don’t miss my blog, but I feel that I have writer’s block. I look back on all the amazing things I wrote about and feel sad that I don’t have those memories now – or the option to reread them would be more accurate. I could change that, and I should, but I’ve tried multiple times to go back into the past. I shouldn’t focus on it, as the present is more important, and is where I’m at now.

The only person I have to blame for this is myself. I can’t blame it on moving to another country as that gave me plenty of blog fodder, though surprisingly my statistics tell me that I published the same amount of posts in 2014 as I did in 2013. It wasn’t till 2015, when my mom passed in March that I was only able to push out 13 posts, and those were about countries I’d been to outside of Bahrain, but not complete stories.

I found my time there interesting and blog-worthy, and definitely had lots to say about my mom – her life lived and all the opportunities to share with her that are now gone. I cried for months, and I still do some days, though I know it won’t bring her back. I found it hard to do things I’d grown accustomed to. Everything – food, writing, sleeping – reminded me of her, so I spent hours working out in an attempt to escape the pain that only time will help to lessen the burden – or be a constant reminder of their absence.

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I published a post upon return to the States in hopes it would motivate me forward. I was halfway through a second post when I got criticized for the first and it’s been a draft since. I’d like to think I take constructive criticism well, as I want to learn from my mistakes (if I won’t take advantage to learn from others) and perfect the me in what I do. I realize it’s our faults, as much as our perfections, that make us who we are. In that case, I don’t want to get rid of mine. I want my identity to shine.

They, people who have suffered loss, say it takes at least a year to heal. I’d agree with them, mostly. It’s been 17 months and I found the move back to the States more stressful, hence the inability to write about. I didn’t know where to begin. I pressured myself to jump back in, full force, but to what. I hadn’t been in school full-time with a full time job and a hundred hobbies before I left, so why the rush.

I was worried about being stagnant. It was an ok excuse, though I always got puzzling looks  (and sometimes jealous ones), while overseas, but back to the homeland I felt I had to make up for that time. I realize now that I made the decisions that were right for me at the time. I have no regrets and am in no rush to change who I am. Yes, I want to grow and learn, but I shouldn’t do so at the expense of my mental health.

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Some people use age as a point of acceptance (they keep the cards they’re given) and others use it as a trading point to change their situation – something we should all constantly be doing. I signed up for classes to change mine and force socialization (since I’m paying to attend). I look forward to what the future brings, which is hopefully more posts from me – regardless of what the critics say of my grammar, content, or writing style. I’d like to see them live my life and then write about it in a way that inspires others as I have to get out, or stay in, and do; to see their world from another perspective.

Good luck to those that are trying daily to be the change they want to see. Here are two quotes from inspiring authors that seem fitting.

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” – Will Durant

“What you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while.” – Gretchen Rubin

Posted in Education, Events, Family, Friends, History, Inspiration, Media, People, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Three Kwality Weeks

Posted on August 11, 2016 by TheJessicaness

Moving is expensive, at least internationally, but I’ve never complained. Lucky us to have the government behind us, helping to cover some of the fees – moving the bed, shipping the car, and possibly reimbursing my flight. They also offer to pay us back for a 10-day hotel stay of my choosing, the cheapest being $88 per night in San Diego, but after I’d still have needed 3 – 7 weeks till our stuff arrives.

Caleb was able to get 12 movers out to our flat in Bahrain on May 24th to make sure our goods were on the next boat out. We dropped the car off in the desert after three washes, on June 6th, and picked up a rental car, a yellow Picanto, for our last week in the country, or so we thought. I would get two more – one after a guy ran a red light and the other when my window wouldn’t go back up.

Short version here:

I was driving through an intersection around 5:30 pm, during Ramadan, when a guy popped my headlight out and dented the bumper into my tire. I was able to reverse and put the car in the dirt where it would stay until the police showed up at 1 am – that’s right, seven hours later. Grandpa called his 40-year-old son, who brought his high school-age son with him to help handle this. The driver called his friend too. We went to two police stations, had dinner, and had tea on the roadside.

Everything worked out – I got added as a driver for the report and insurance, went to the police station to cut in line after waiting for a couple of guys and going to a few different offices, only to find out the case was going to court and I wasn’t needed. The rental company gave me a discount while charging me at a higher rate as well. I hadn’t planned on being here a month, but that’s the cost of moving.

Brinn and Dad

Back to moving:

I’ve always enjoyed saving money, even when moving or on vacation, so sometimes I see the fees as a bit extraneous, but I am grateful that I can afford them and the memories that come from these experiences. I’ve gotten lucky that I didn’t need a hotel in Bahrain and that I’m not having to worry about a place in the States, but it makes running errands with dogs tricky.

I had stopped by the SDSU campus and paid over $110 for not being in my car while it was in the wrong direction without a parking pass. I drove to the next building I thought I needed and called the parking number of the garage to be told that I had to park further away and walk across campus while the dogs wait in the car. I wasn’t the only one upset about this decision. The guy who gave them water would make a snide comment about a dog sitter, but I promised him I wouldn’t be long, and 70 degrees in the shade should buy me some time.

I grabbed the info I needed and passed it to my helpful husband so he could get things sorted. As I write this, I’m wondering why I didn’t go through the motions myself and how much better this was written the first time (before I lost my draft). Oh well, Caleb is currently in school himself, which is why he’s been absent on my Facebook and Instagram. He landed in Norfolk, visited with his brother and met his second nephew, and bought a Mazda 3 to tour the mountains before reaching the big city of Chicago, where he’ll be for two months (only two weeks left).

Jess and Grandma

The Post’s Title:

I got called back from San Diego (on my way there) after two days in Los Angeles and three in Phoenix to spend 18 days, roughly 170 hours, selling Kwality Ice Cream. Most of the customers come over after eating at Krua Thai restaurant next door; hearing praise from family, friends, and co-workers; or finding it online via Google and Yelp. I enjoy the variety of customers: one who ordered three scoops, then didn’t want to pay, only two have used the toilet and not bought something, a little girl dropped her scoop on the floor, and one guy thought his scoop wasn’t big enough.

But let’s not focus on them. Let’s remember the great parent/child relationships that I get to witness as they’re encouraged to be respectful, playful, and interesting. They’re allowed to ask questions, not finish their ice cream, and help count the change. Some people come in and only want vanilla, not wanting to try the rose, rajbhog, sugar-free pistachio, and blue mango, amongst others, though that’s what the chocolate and butterscotch flavors are for. Some stay to chat (those are my favorite) about travel, the store, the book I’m reading, school, and life in general.

My dad is my favorite customer and keeps me company on occasion. My grandma stopped by for almost an hour the other day. And let me not forget to mention Sonal’s family, who have made sure I’ve got something other than ice cream to eat, mostly her eldest daughter, as their mom’s away planning the wedding of her second daughter. I appreciate the opportunity to help and have a sense of purpose during my transition back to the States while I wait for everything to come together.

Update:

This post is all over the place, as was my mind upon return. I’ve now been stateside for nine weeks, and I’m not promising the writing will get better, only that it will be more frequent. Caleb wants to know how all my country trips ended (as I left most unfinished) and more about my transition between countries. I’ve got others curious as well as to what filled all of my time while over there… and how I enjoyed it. Those details to come as I get into classes, pick up my hobbies again, and finally have the strength to deal with my mother’s passing – to go through her notes, pictures, and memorabilia – with limited tears, as the pain never goes away, but time has made it easier to cope.

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Hello America

Posted on August 5, 2016 by TheJessicaness

Amsterdam airport

I’ve been gone for 25 months and already back for three weeks. Bahrain was more and less of what I expected. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting all the educated, employed, and well-traveled people there. I want to be more like them. I’ve got lots of untold stories that I hope to share in the future, but I wanted to share a bit of my transition with you.

We knew, Caleb and I, that we’d be gone for two years, though one of us would’ve preferred less work there and more road trips here. We were locked on Bahrain without the ability to drive through Saudi and take the dogs with us. We found out in April that we’d be moving to San Diego. Caleb couldn’t contain his excitement, though he had applied for Hawaii, Spain, and Japan to soothe my wanderlust.

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Honey’s

I didn’t feel ready to return, so I didn’t help with our personal property (mattress, clothes, dishes), our car, the dogs, the plane tickets… until it was too late. Caleb spent hours each day telling others to do their jobs so we could finally leave this island. June 16th came and Caleb was ready. I was unaware of the export form needed for the dogs.

Four days later and my ticket is only half confirmed. I laughed like a loony and left the airport again. Between Ramadan (holy month for Muslims) and the Fourth of July (which affects the base) I would get stuck waiting on phone calls, paperwork, and payments between the short working day. Finally, the guy in SATO (smart ass ticket office – or whatever that stands for) got tired of the back and forth and called the airline directly. He said I may only get to Los Angeles, but I’ll be in the States.

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at Dad’s office

I made sure he had the correct credit card info and went back by the vet. The stress was turning my brain to mush. I would spend the mornings running around in the heat and the evenings with my dogs on my friend’s couch, which would’ve otherwise left me homeless, but I had plenty of offers for a place for us. Thank you to those people and I hope we meet again. The vet rushed my paperwork through as understanding of my situation, as she’s going through crap as well and is higher ranking.

With all things in order, Caleb and my dad found out I was on my way to the States as I pulled up to the airport. I was tired of the constant questioning without having answers. My flight was confirmed and not delayed. I sat for 2-3 hours on the ground in Dubai before going to Amsterdam for stroopwaffles and gouda in the airport. I landed in LA as my dad was on his way to San Diego to meet me in an hour only to be told that I didn’t have the proper boarding pass, my dogs paperwork wasn’t sufficient, and no one bothered to grab my bag.

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tea in pajamas

I called my dad and had a pbj at the USO while waiting on him to arrive in a red convertible Camaro. Real life is so much better than Skype, we hugged. We had to drive a distance out-of-town to find a room for two nights, one so I could relax now and the second to calm down after a day in traffic to visit two synth stores.

We drove into Phoenix and Caroline walked in the door from work. Some days went by in a blur and I was soon in a Mazda 5 one-way rental to San Diego. Our old house had just been put on the market early and it was first come opportunity. We took it as a six-month lease and that gives us time to get situated and figure out if we want to stay there or relocate. I stayed in a Motel 6 and ate at Denny’s before returning the car to Phoenix.

art in San Diego

art in San Diego

My dad’s friend, Sonal, was in need of someone to help watch her store again, this time selling ice cream, and my dad knew I needed the distraction and a place to sleep till my bed arrives. I agreed to three weeks and her family will manage the last one. I’ve had plenty of time to read, enjoyed the rain, and a day in my dad’s office playing in Blender.

There are things to get used to, but it’s not where the guy is to pump the gas, but what’s my zip code. It’s not the overwhelming amount of cereal options inside the store, but the size of the aisles, the cheap fresh fruit, and the homeless people outside. There’s been no traffic and I can hear Arabic as if it were, “eh or a’boot” in Canada.

the drive between

the drive between

I work from noon to 9pm with Monday off. I have time in the mornings for a workout, shower, breakfast, puppies to play with and walk while I learn Spanish, and watch music tutorials over dad’s shoulder. I then either get a ride and am dropped off early or I leave the house at 11am for a 40-minute walk to work.

I have a long list of goals that I hope to accomplish today, next week, next month, and for coming years. I had gone by the SDSU campus but it was Caleb who got me prepped to sign up for classes in the fall. I think I almost forgot how overwhelming this process could be and thought it’d be easier without the navy in the way of the payment processing. I suppose we shall see.

walk to work

walk to work

How do I feel now that I’m back? This country has made great strides in moving forward in every direction, though sometimes it seems certain areas move slower due to greed and ignorance. I don’t want to be another name caller but a part of the solution. I met plenty of people who would love to be where I’m at – the land of opportunity. It would be rude of me not to take advantage of my situation. I’ll be here for a couple of years, or days, as no one can predict the future, but I’m hoping to make the most of mine.

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Tour Du Jour

Posted on April 16, 2016 by TheJessicaness

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Shelley’s patio

Shelley comes out of her room and I greet her cheerfully, but fall back asleep while she makes us breakfast. I wake to the smell of biscuits with currants and drop a bag of Earl Grey tea in my cup at 9:30am. After we eat, while Shelley gets ready to go, I’m invited to look at her enormous balcony, with sea view. There’s room for a hot tub and a hammock to go with all her lounge chairs and grill. I could live out here in the winter.

Shelley grabs one of her bikes to take to the shop. I’ve agreed to join her on some errands to get another perspective of Kuwait. We leave the house at 11am and her usual mechanic isn’t in at Extreme Sports, but we leave the bike for later. I tell her it’s great that they have shops here and she says the bike culture has grown a lot in recent years. The only change I’ve seen in Bahrain is guys with pink helmets on. They take donations as it’s now a law, but I still don’t see a place to get your bike fixed and the new ones are pricy.

I love Kuwait

SoMu Square

The next stop is Eureka, an everything electronics store, complete with large fish tank as the centrepiece. She needs a new fan and I’m busy looking at the pink appliances – a Arzum Firrin toaster with a sliding tray (I was excited thinking it was conveyor belt style); an iron that looks like a space ship; and a Hello Kitty Instax Mini camera. The sales associate writes down what you want and tells a stock guy to get it ready. You take the paper to the cashier desk and then the receipt to pick-up or arrange delivery.

We find parking near the phone avenue and I appreciate the concept here – food on one street, textiles on another, and all the car lots together. It makes it easy to shop and compare prices. We walk into the first one and he tells us to cross the street. In haggling, the guy doubles the price, so we go back to the first. We cross the road a few times, luckily not having to wait on heavy traffic, and then walk into two shops next to each other and find a charging cable at the right length and price.

Mu Souk

Souk Mubarakiya

From here, Shelley is ready to drop me at Souk Mubarakiya and go on about her day. She stops the car near SoMu Square; a new design area by Ahmed and Bader, covered with murals and owned by Kuwaitis selling a mix of traditional ideas with a modern touch; and I hop out. This is only one corner of a very large market. Most of the walkways are covered and hidden in the shade are shops that look new with merchandise pouring out and calls to bring me closer. Other shops are covered with bundles of cables and dusty façades.

I think a lot of people use this area as transit as the only shoppers are near the food. They sell plenty of teapots, toys, and towels. I stop on the corner to buy a green apple/kiwi juice from two Thai ladies. I recognize the language from the restaurants in Bahrain and instead of saying thank you (khop khun ka) tell them sawadee kha (hello) as I start to walk away. They call me back to remind me I haven’t paid yet and I give them a dinar.

vendors in the souk

vendors in the souk

I can smell the fish market from a distance and hold my breath as I pass. You can save a dinar by buying strawberries in the market – a common concept everywhere, and though I may have upset the fruit guy, the veggie vendors are happy to pose for a picture – that they asked me to take. I make my way back through the souk and though I pass many of the same shops, there are many I’m missing, especially as they start to close for their afternoon siesta – a habit in Kuwait.

I’m in a hallway of sorts and this man stops in his tracks, and then waits for me to approach before turning in my direction. I thought it weird, especially when he made a point to graze my elbow – something that does not happen by accident in the Middle East. Luckily we both carried on and nothing had to come of it. I think I was more upset by seeing a girl throw her ice cream wrapper on the ground next to the trash bin – one of many that line the walkway and yet there’s still litter.

mural in the souk

mural in the souk

I’m heading to Liberation Tower, a landmark on my list, and am grateful for the guys willing to jump into traffic and stop cars from hitting me as I use the opportunity to cross. Some countries consider this jaywalking – a ticket-able offence, but in the Middle East someone monitors pedestrian traffic and then builds the crosswalks to suit them; most including a speed bump to slow the cars giving the people a better chance to run across.

I stand in the tower’s shade in a parking lot to grab a photo without the sun’s glare. I might not be able to go inside, and don’t bother to check (though I should have), but I’m seeing the highest telecommunications tower in the Middle East, and the fifth highest in the world built of concrete in 1996 to reach a height of 372 meters. From here I think I’ll walk to the National Museum, or at least through the skyscrapers till I reach ocean, though I have no idea which direction I should be going.

Liberation Tower

Liberation Tower

Steve works short hours on Saturday and asks where I’m at. I hop into his Mitsubishi at 2:20pm for the Tour Du Jour. Our first stop will be a return to the Kuwait Towers to enjoy a view of the city. They are different from the other 32 that are of a mushroom design and covered in blue and white stripes. The viewing tower was opened to the public in March 1979, and closed from the same month in 2012 to 2016. I might not have been there for the fireworks, but I’m grateful for the timing.

There are about 41,000 enamelled steel discs in different shades of sea and sky covering the concrete spheres on rockets, and over that is the net of LEDs that bring so much attraction at night. Now paying the 3KD each to get in doesn’t seem like a bad deal to keep a multi-functioning structure operating properly. I had a bunch of people question why I would bother going to Kuwait, but I’ve gotten the same questions about visiting Texas and Chicago. The answer – I know I’ll have fun, learn something about others and myself, and possibly inspire someone.

Inflatable Soap Water Soccer

Inflatable Soap Water Soccer

Or that something as simple as an entry ticket could excite me. Instead of printing out two tickets, we’re handed one with the number 2 on it. I think this is great to help save the planet – the printing process and how many end up on the ground. I also wonder how many children will put them in scrapbooks anymore or just take a picture of them like I do to add to a growing media collection – and hopefully share their thoughts about the effect a place has on them with more than just the people they invite into their home.

There are flowers growing ever so brightly outside and arranged in a rainbow pattern. Up the lift, there is a view for maybe 10km to the horizon. I can see the Symphony Complex Hotel in Salmiya, the 35m tower in the middle of Green Island on the water, the Kuwait Trade Center (Al Tijaria Tower) that stands alone, and the apex of Kuwait City – the Al Hamra Firdous Tower at 412 meters. Below, we can watch people slip, slide, and swim at the Aqua Park.

Park

Green Island

The windows might be dirty and the fingerprints many, but this doesn’t stop us from checking out the rotating restaurant above us before going back down. Steve says Green Island isn’t big, but it made my list, so we will go. Along the walkway are boys playing wet football on a large inflatable covered in soapy water. Google only shows me images of Brazilian and Japanese women playing this sport, but it makes sense in the heat and looks like tons of fun.

Another perspective of the city, and another entrance fee to what seems like a public park – and that’s exactly what it is. Families come to cook and eat and rent bikes for 10KD an hour – something we decide against. We only walk half the island, but it’s enough to see the kids cycling, dancing, and riding jet skis. I told the dancers not to stop on my behalf and they invite me to join. They didn’t want to see my salsa or line dancing moves anyway – or maybe they did.

view from Green Island

view from Green Island

Next on the itinerary is The Scientific Center, a bit of an aquarium, including a fox, a bat, and a scorpion. I appreciate the fossils, the boats, and the incredible view of the city skyline over the water. This occupies an hour of our time and then we’re off to pick up Lioba who lives near a green and gold mosque, red dumpsters, and a little boy who likes to climb through windows. She will join us for dinner at Ayyame Restaurant at Marina Crescent, where I saw my first beach in Kuwait.

The views are fantastic from our upstairs table on the corner – the harbor, the skyline, and the character cruise with Mickey, Elsa, etc. waving to the passing children. We share green bread, pita, and one with seeds; we had mutabbal with spinach and mushroom; a mixed green salad with citrus and sesame; and spinach with halloumi. Steve can appreciate the look of the greens, but can’t consider dinner served till the waitress brings a metal box stuffed with chicken and wrapped in bread.

sunset from Aram

sunset from Ayyame

I can settle down to my seat now that the sun has set around 6pm and the food is on my plate. I help the vegetarian and the carnivore eat as much as we can, and somehow we find ourselves downstairs an hour later about to share a plate of kunafa, rose sheesha, and some hot tea. Özge and Gonca were having dinner at a restaurant nearby and they will join us for laughs and conversation. I’m enjoying the crowd, but soon Lioba has to leave (for work tomorrow) and she tells me she’s covering the bill (for Steve’s kindness to her last night and today).

I keep it a secret till we get ready to leave and the person people want to eyeball isn’t there. All they can say is thank you – and plan to pay for her at the next meal. Being around people like this makes me feel safe and loved. I can share with them, rely on them, and not worry about petty differences. They aren’t concerned about my religion, political beliefs, or paycheck. We can have a good time and the only argument is who is going to pay – because we all want to, not because we have to. Shelley is either asleep or still out with her friends when I get back at 10:45pm.

Posted in Animals, Art, Food, Friends, History, Places, Sports, Travel, Water | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment