- John Blake
Friends and Family,
Here is today’s edition of living in land of sand and sand:
Today was another light day but yet, we still experienced sitting in offices, talking aimlessly broken up by awkward silences, and then more talking. Not much going on so we fill the time with discussion.
And tea.
Yes, had the tea again. It’s served in little glass mugs kind of like shot glasses and tastes like hot, sugary Lipton tea. Probably is.
One of the Saudis offered me something that looked like an ear of corn wrapped in tin foil and when I opened it, I discovered it was bread with slices of cheese and jelly inside. I took a bite and then asked…
“What do you call this?”
“Sandwich”
I am really trying to curb my natural instinct to go full-on smartass because these people don’t get sarcasm or if they do, you don’t dare try any until you get to know them which takes about 3-6 months.
“I know it in English,…. In Arabic.”
“Sandwich.”
OK, I’m an ass.
That spawned a long discussion about English words that have made their way into Arabic. Words like “OK,” “sandwich,” “television” and “computer.”
The only one they could come up with that goes the other way is “banana.” It means “fingers” in “Old-Arabic.”
Who knew?
This afternoon, my roomie took me to the Filipino “sook” where I was told I could get a haircut. I was getting to look like I had joined the Navy so I needed to take care of the shaggy situation.
The barber knew less English than I know Arabic which was not a good sign. Through broken, childish English, charades, and facial expressions I hoped would suffice, I got the idea across which worked well all the way up to the point where he practically shaved the top of my head.
Like SHORTER than a 1-clip. Basically, a week of stubble after shaving your head completely.
I came out of it looking like one week out of bootcamp.
Good thing it was only 20 SIR which is $5.33 and if you think I left him a tip then lay off the crack pipe. I won’t have to cut the top again while I’m here.
Jackass.
My roomie then went to a tailor and bought two suits for $173 each ready in 4 days. Ooh-rah procrastination.
I figure I will be getting 5 tailored suits from this place with the shirts also, made to fit. But I will not wait until 4 days before I leave.
I’ll give it at least 5 days.
When we went back to the villa, I ordered up some Pappa Johns for the simple fact that I desperately wanted pizza and beer…. er… I mean… pizza and tea.
I left out the trip to the Consulate where we get our tea rations. I don’t want to give too many details about the Consulate or the tea rations because they are sensitive subjects over here but here is what I can say…
It’s based on a point system. I get 8 points every month (16 the first month to stock, I assume). Each item has a point value and when you use it up for the month, no more tea.
Herb tea is 2 points a case.
Grape tea is 1 point per bottle
Johnnie and Jack teas (and the like) is one point per bottle
You still pay for them so I spent about $80 which is more than I spend in a year, normally. But “tea” is like air: no big deal unless you aren’t getting’ any.
So I ordered pizza and had it delivered. You can get EVERYTHING delivered here.
Even McDonald’s delivers.
When the guy showed up (speaking about as much English as my barber), he had no change so we had to give him 100 SIR ($26.67) and send him to the store for change. It was 56 SIR ($14.93) for a large pizza and an order of potato wedges. He returned a few minutes later with the change.
This brings me to what I wanted to point out: TCNs are treated like animals around here. No rights and are so talked down to.
Let me state right here and now: I will NOT, and I repeat WILL NOT fall into the habit of treating these people like sub-humans. I see it everywhere and it drives me nuts. You throw them a thank you (shoe-cron) like you would anyone else and they look at you like Charlie Bucket looked at Willy Wonka.
But there is a nuance that I am going to have to learn. How do you talk to someone who doesn’t understand much English without talking down to them like a child. It’s a skill I will have to perfect.
To me, the guy I’m replacing sounds like he’s talking down to them and I’m convinced there is a way to do it without sounding sanctimonious.
Others just go the other direction and act like they are talking to their buddy back on Main Street USA, using slang and idioms, oblivious that these people don’t understand much of what he is saying but are too polite to stop him or call him on it.
Ahhh, the art of diplomacy.
The last adventure of the day was the washer machine.
I have a front loading washer machine that holds about two socks at a time. If you fold them up right.
My roomie had minimal knowledge of how it worked since his fiancé does his laundry and there are only symbols on the knobs.
When I asked him about it, he ran through what he knew which was not much. He only had a very specific procedure he used and didn’t know why, which meant that he used the same temperature of water no matter what he washed.
Single, straight men in their mid 30s do not make good housekeeping.
I figured out the best I could and the dumpy little washer went through about a million “mini-cycles” where it would churn, stop, churn…etc.
It took about 2 hours to wash the first load and I’m still not 100% sure I’m doing it right.
Seems that single, straight men in their LATE 30s do not make good housekeeping either.
F.M.L. of the Day: “Today, I got home from work and heard the shower in my bathroom running. Thinking my wife was taking a shower, I got completely undressed and walked in. My wife wasn't in the shower, instead I found my daughter and her boyfriend in the shower, making out. There was an awkward moment of silence. FML.”
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