Aisha

'I will only do the things I like' is a statement I like to live by. I wonder if it makes me spoilt, or maybe more spoilt than I already am! I especially like to follow my advice when I excercise, so this summer I found myself drawn away from the strict weight lifting routine that I'd been following for the past two years & without shame going to classes I'd previously desmissed as frivolous & meaningless. I was soon to discover that there are some pretty tough routine & I felt pretty small when I couldn't show off in the body pump class ... me the queen of weights & endurance! Goes to show how little we know especially when we think we know a lot!A little more adventuring led me to an oriental dance class ... & I was hooked! I mean I've always adored dancing but to be able to do it as excercise ... well now that's just perfect! I did a couple of classes in Amman with a seemingly timid, but quite sensual in class instructor & then inevitable looked for a place to take oriental dance classes back home in Egypt. And this led me to Aisha.I walked into the class room feeling like an outsider as all newcomer feel the first time at the gym. I was surrounded by women of all shapes & sizes dressed in a range of clothes from sweats to ful belly dancer's outfit! And then in walks Aisha, a tall chocolate skinned giant all arms & legs dresses in a beautiful belly dancer's number making me feel like the ugly duckling, that is untill she opened her mouth & talked with the silliest of lisps, sounding like a 3 year old! Aisha danced & we mimicked her moves, with a degree of grace & she encouraged & coached us & she smiled all the time, thoroughly enjoying herself, & so did we.The strange thing though is that like the previous dance instructors she's left handed & begins all her steps with her left leg, & being right handed seems like a hndicap to me. I have come to the realization too that maybe, just maybe I will never be an oriental dance instructor like Aisha!

Coffee at the gym

Nothing can be more perfect to sooth me out of my rotten mood &, well, to get me feeling rotten about losing my temper, but remorse is much better for the soul!It all started with a hanging beam. Hayam our interior decorator/designer/foreman declared that she absolutely has to introduce false ceiling to hide the hidiouseness of the hanging beam, while Hubby & looked @ each other wondering what she was seeing that we weren't! But she is the one with the artistic eye & we just let her. A good thing that we did too since she did an absolutely amzing job, worth every penny. And in a remarkably short period of time!Back to the false gypsum board. Well it turns out that you cannot use normal screws to hang curtain rods; the heavy fabrics pulls them out. Every time.and off I go, into Cairo, to the convenience store, praying that my loony driver will know how to get me there. We get there in good time ; I make my choice ; I'm ready to pay only to have my hope shattered; out of stock. I persevere & try again. To no avail. I start to get upset. A trip to another store, after many directions to aforementioned dumb driver finds me before a display of curtain rods, which you would assume are avaialable. But we all know about assumptions; they're very bad @ the best of times. After much debating & checking the stock room I make a choice & 'he'll just prepare the bill'. In retrospect I think that clerck must've been really meen to his wife this morning because I snapped at him like a dry twig on a hot dusty Amman day, when he returned to inform me the rings that the curtain will hang from were out of stock. I ranted & raved like my two year old when he doesn't get his way. I eventually calmed down & grudgingly paid for my purchases minus the rings of course, which hubby will somehow get from somewhere else, and left.Another wrong turn by the stupid driver put me in the darkest of moods untill I sat down, @ the gym, had a coffee & shared my story, while waiting to get to class. A perfect ending to an otherwise bad morning!

Seasons

What is it about the changing of the seasons that makes me so happy? As far back as I can remember I’ve experienced this sensation of happiness spreading slowly all over me whenever I sense the changing of the seasons. I know most people are happy when summer arrives with its promise of vacations and picnics and late night outings with friends. Some love spring with its promise of new life and new beginnings. Some people will tell you that they love autumn with its subtle chill in the air and the instinct to cuddle for warmth. And ultimately some would tell you that they enjoy winter’s cosiness and the family get-togethers.

This transition is a reminder to live the moment. To take the time to enjoy that very first warm breeze of spring or that very first wedding invitation for the summer, the first time you pull out a long unused and casually discarded long sleeve shirt for the autumn chill or the first cup of hot chocolate of the winter. I’m sure it’s strange, but as I sat with my son in the backyard, him making mud-pies and me transported to another time back to my beloved Amman, I could almost feel my feet slip into sandals at the beginning of spring, their skin still soft from being covered up all winter. I remember coming back from school a long time ago and putting away my navy uniform jacket knowing that it won’t be needed till next autumn. There’s nothing more wonderful than experiencing the changing of the seasons, saying goodbye to the old- I’ll see you soon, and welcoming the new with its promise of a clean and fresh start.

What I’m going to talk about is something no one has ever discussed before: the Blank Stare. We all do it, we get better at it with age, some are natural & some have to work hard to achieve the nonchalance needed to pull it off. It’s that stare you do when you’re standing in line at the checkout & you’d love nothing better than to stick your face into everyone’s shopping cart to see what they bought/direct them to better brands/discuss dinner menus and/ or recipes.
You do that same stare when you walk into a beauty salon (at least us girls do) & you’d love to go talk to everyone & see how their hair/nails/eyebrows are coming along & tell an appropriate anecdote. We do it at the doctor’s office when we run out in a rush & forget about getting reading material & those magazines on the table are three years old and look part chewed up, and there’s someone there trying to catch our eye to initiate conversation & you’re thinking, ‘I’m not here for that doctor, I’m here for the other doctor, stay back!
Why do we do it? Have we become such snobs that we really don’t care what the others are doing? I refuse to believe that, I think the people to whom the ‘Blank Stare’ comes naturally are partially brain dead. Granted there are some times when that’s not the reason at all, it’s pure embarrassment. Like when your driver is wheeling your shopping cart to the car & you’re having a conversation (in your head) with everyone around you that goes something like ‘He doesn’t need to do it ... I ... he just took it & took off ... I really don’t mind pushing it ... it would be rude to stop him, he just wants to do his job ...). Or is it just because I’ve never had a driver before?
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I really would like to see what everyone’s doing & offer appropriate anecdotes/advice/recipes! Maybe I observe people too much. Maybe my brain is stuck at age ten & this detachment is weird for me. Who knows?! But I’ll bet each & every one of you will think about the ‘Blank Stare’ next time you’re at the checkout at the pharmacy & the guy in front of you is buying what you suspect is something he shouldn’t be buying, but you just can’t see clearly what it is, & wouldn’t you love to find out!

In search of vanilla

We roamed the isles, up & down, for two whole days. We bought chests of drawers, bedding, towels; detergents & cleaning utensils, we bought hangers, hanging shelves, pots & pans, plates & cutlery. We soon moved on to buying groceries & ... at first glance we couldn’t find it. We looked at the shelves neatly stacked with row upon row of ready mix cakes, brownies, muffins ... everything out there was available, but no vanilla extract!
‘Have faith’ we thought, ‘we shall succeed!’ Surely, with over 80 million people, surely some bake & use vanilla extract. But still no; we still couldn’t find it. Rows & rows of imported Asian & Mexican food products lined the shelves, expensive stuff... we looked at each other & both uttered simultaneously “But no vanilla!” We finally gave up & brought our own from back home along with our clothes & shoes & the children’s toys & all sorts of junk that we just can’t live without; I’m a serious baker!
We moved on. We made peace with the fact that they just don’t seem to use it, dismissing with disdain the meaningless packs of the powdered stuff, along with the seemingly unreliable packets of baking powder & baking Soda, we brought some of that along with us as well. And then we started to settle in, started doing things a l’egyptian! I bought shoes -mandatory in any new country... ok so I cheated they were Nine West, but still, I was trying. I got a pedicure; I even tipped the guy bagging my groceries & felt so local afterwards!
We started making friends. This couple took us out for an Egyptian experience, grilled chicken at a restaurant that is completely unknown to foreigners (or anyone who hasn’t watched Abbassyat on Fatafeet!). We ate, the kids played & then we looked at each other & asked the all important question: “Where’s the vanilla?” “What do you mean?” came the answer (or rather the question); “didn’t you see the packets of vanilla powder?”, “Oh so that stuff is good?”, “Of course,” the lady said, “One pack is good for two eggs”, she very simply explained.
We felt small; here we were with our stereotypes, thinking vanilla comes only in a bottle, dismissing the poor packets of powder, sitting there all along waiting for us to take home. We realised that things aren’t always as they seem & we should really open our minds & embrace this new culture, it has been around for a while!
PS I have to confess though, that even after this discover, I still haven’t tried the powdered stuff, I have a big stash of liquid vanilla extract that ... err... will spoil if I don’t use it?!

My Addiction

It takes me by surprise, & I begin to breath more quickly.
My legs get a mind of their own & I drift … aimlessly … or so it seems until I reach the source.
It then seems to happen in slow motion … or is it too fast?
I can’t stop myself.
I detect the faint scent & my heart begins to beat more quickly.
I know I have to pluck up the courage to do it but I cannot stop myself … I just can’t
And the touch … oh how good & right it feels, touching it, caressing it …
I can’t take it anymore … I have to have it … I have to … oh why can’t I absorb through my skin why can’t it be more quickly?
Barely able to make the choice I take my purchases & initiate payment … hardly able to contain myself …
And then I leave, laden with the precious …
And when I get home I give myself a good talking to …
I really have to get over my addiction to … books!

I wrote this back in 2002, but I'm still not over this addiction ... thank God!

The biggest move-by numbers!

This is definately not my first move away from Jordan but it's involving the largest number of people. While traipsing around the western world seemed difficult at the time, it was only hubby & me for two years & yes we did have much more junk (per capita) now with the two kids & the housekeeper, I pat myself on the back for having accomplished this seeminlgy monstrous feat in a few days. I wonder though, am I going to break down soon? I don't think so, we already have a routine & starting today it includes a trip to the gym, so except for the lack of baking, life is almost normal seeing as we're in a different country & a different continent. Life's pretty much OK.