The End of the Beginning

Yesterday, January 25th, marked the 5th anniversary of the beginning of the end. Police Day. The first day of the Arab Spring in Egypt. We had no idea at that time that we had only a week left before we'd be whisked away back to the United States and all we'd be left with from our time in Egypt would be my blog posts, a pyramid shaped ashtray, and an evacuation story.

Police Day 2011

After spending over 5 years in the Middle East it's amazing how those 2 months in Egypt exist in Technicolor. Every time we talk about Cairo we can recall it as if we lived there for years, rather than months. On one hand the city has an intensity, a vibrancy, that is unlike anything in the Gulf, but I think the biggest reason those experiences are bolder in our memories is because they were our firsts. The first time I saw a car driving in reverse on a freeway (on our way from the airport to our flat). The first time I saw a guy texting while riding a donkey. The first time I smelled desert sand mixed with city smog. The first time I ate koshary (and walked past a dead body in the street on our way to the restaurant). The first time we had to dodge pedestrians on a 4 lane turned into 8 highway. The first time drinking chai on a rickety chair inches away from strangers at the next table.

I realized it's kind of like giving birth to your first child. I can still remember that Calvin weighed 17lbs at his 4 month appointment and 19lbs at 6 months and that his first food was avocado at 7 months, but only because those firsts exist as a comparison to all the experiences to follow. Every subsequent sibling reminds me of Calvin's firsts -- how do they match up? Is this kid bigger? Is this one growing OK? The following experiences all are held up against the standard and then fade into a happy stack on top of it, not needed as a reference point because one already exists. Calvin's firsts weren't more special, but they were more significant to me because it's how I learned what defined "normal" and it formed my expectations for all future Chartier babies.

As we wait for orders I wonder what I will remember about Bahrain. I know when I see a handmade carpet I will flash back to rug flops and chest high piles of carpets and the smell of dust and wool upstairs in the Magic Carpet shop with my bare toes testing the softness of the fibers. Muscat gave me my first shawarma from the gas station near our house -- the char of the chicken, the softness of the bread, the garlicky sauce and the creamy sweetness of the avocado "juice." I might have to dig deeper  to find those firsts, but they are in there.

I think Egypt is a Picasso. It is bold, in your face, ugly-beautiful, shocking, but memorable and as you look at it closely you see beauty in the chaos. It's not for everyone and it generates a strong response of either love or hate. In comparison, Oman is a Monet. Beautiful from the first moment you lay eyes on it, it's purpose is to be exactly what you see. It's soothing, relaxing and there is nothing surprising about it except that it continues to be just as lovely every time you look at it, from every angle. Everyone loves it and there's nothing controversial about it.

I've decided Bahrain is a still life, painted by a family friend. It doesn't seem that exciting at first glance, but once you find out who the artist is and recognize the bowl of fruit and the kitchen table as the place where you sit and chat it takes on new meaning. Then you see that she added her cat in the background right next to the coffee mug that you always choose to drink out of and it's no longer just a painting of a bowl of fruit, but it tells the story of friendship and shared stories and laughter and it becomes a prized possession. It's not for everyone, but it's one of your favorites because you know it well.

I'm thankful that I have so many different paintings to hang on my walls and I'm making room for more. What's next? I'm really hoping it's not a Jackson Pollock, but I'm open to almost anything.

Ah . . . evacuation.

Departing Cairo for Athens

We didn't know where we were headed then and 5 years later we don't know where we are headed now, but I'm thankful that the beginning of the end in Egypt was only the end of the beginning of our Middle Eastern adventures. The past few days I've gone back to January and February of 2011 and reread my take on the uprising and the evacuation and all the comments and I saw that so many of you who replied to my blog posts back then are still commenting today. Thank you. I love you. 

The waiting is the hardest part

My efforts to consolidate my driving find us at a coffee house on our faux-Friday night while the boys are at youth group. 

I'm preparing the Friday School lesson that I'm teaching tomorrow morning and am happy that most of my To Do has been done for this week. I laugh at myself because our island is so small that it's not like I'm commuting from Orange Coubty to LA, but the driving here is definitely harder work. Sometimes I think it has gotten more civilized in the 3.5 years we've lived here, but then I'll see an empty car parked in the middle of a main road because prayer time trumps everything and shake my head as the cars backed up in both directions try and figure out how to weave around the obstacle.

We are waiting for orders. I think we'll get some. I'm pretty sure we'll be moving … inshallah? They told us they would start talking about it on Jan 20th so now my clock is tick, tick, ticking. We got an assignment a month ago, but within hours were back in limbo again so I'm still waiting for confirmation of some kind before I get excited about anything. 

I don't think we will be headed back to the US. I know Josh's long term goals are to work and live somewhere in the region after retirement so it makes the most sense to transition to retirement and job hunt from over here. He's got the skills and experience to make him valuable to the military in this region so we are hoping the Needs of the Marine Corps and his desires match up one last time. 

Soccer Madness

Still here. Still hanging on.

Where have I been? Odds are either 1) on the sidelines of the soccer field at a game, tournament, or practice 2) in the car on the way to a soccer game, tournament or practice OR 3) trying to figure out how I managed to get ourselves overbooked AGAIN.

I thought we were doing fine until Josh left and exposed the flaw in our plan. This schedule only really works if we tag team. Each kid is happy with their level of activity, but combined it becomes too much for any one person to sanely manage. When I finally sat down and realized what they are committed to, I laughed at my foolishness. Laughter tinged with a note of hysteria.

Calvin: is coaching Camille's base youth soccer team (aw, super cute), playing with the Marines for the base Men's league, assistant coaching with the American Soccer Club two nights/week and varsity soccer starts next week.

Carter: is playing on the Middle School Intermediate team, playing with the American Soccer Club, and playing in the base youth sports league.

Caleb: is playing on the Middle School Juniors team, playing with the American Soccer Club, and on a base youth sports team.

Camille: is only on the base league team (Praise God), but gets dragged to all other events the way the baby of the family always does.

This doesn't include the 2 youth groups that they are involved in or music related commitments (church worship team and piano lessons). So I'm pretty much losing my mind over here. I go work out in the morning and then before I know it I'm off to one or another of their events or figuring out how everyone can get to their assigned places and then meet back in one spot with as little driving as possible, but still allowing everyone to eat dinner at some point. Take this as a cautionary tale: Just say "No."

Monday was school, then come home and fuel up with a 4:00 dinner before ASC soccer. Calvin would go coach, then leave early and walk to base, then the other two boys would finish out practice and walk to base to meet us for Calvin's Men's league game, where we would cheer, hopefully win, and then be home by 8 so the kids could crawl in bed because Tuesday was school, then one kid to base youth group, another kid's soccer tournament (where Camille and I would be) while the 3rd kid went to a soccer meeting then meet us at the tournament. Youth group kid walks back to school where he would watch the end of the tournament then we would roll into Camille's soccer practice (Calvin coaching) and then Carter and Caleb's practice. But Caleb would miss piano because I have not yet figured out how to do the impossible and I can't move his piano practice to another day because he has no days that are free. That day the kids all left the house at 7 am and didn't get home until about 13 hours later. I brought snacks to them after school and we grabbed Arabic McDonald's on the way home.

On one hand it keeps them moving and keeps them from staring at screens all afternoon and evening, but at this point breeding a group of zombies sounds like a nice alternative. It would certainly give me more knitting time. Carter and Caleb are already talking about rolling from the Middle School soccer team to basketball (one ends and the other begins the same week) and they also want to join the school swim team. I'll let Josh field those requests when he gets home next month because right now, I'm at my MAX. He already had to do one FaceTime intervention at the end of last week when I was too tired to drive to youth group #2 on Thursday night and one child was super disappointed and giving me a hard time about it. I'm glad they love it, but mercy, I was done. Especially when our weekends are front loaded with church first thing on Friday mornings and not only do I have to coordinate Kid's Church, but I also had to get everyone there early so Calvin could practice with the worship team before service. So yeah, even when I've been home, I've been too tired to put 2 sentences together. I've been de-stressing by watching episodes of Shark Tank and eating chocolate in-between shifts driving the soccer train.

Pre-church breakfast. I need to get to the grocery store.

What else happened this week? The maintenance guys came to our yard and did about 3 years worth of tree/bush trimming in 3 days, disrupting a hive of bees so they were swarming all around my front yard and I couldn't leave the house. Then those bees settled outside my bathroom window so taking a shower was like a scene from The Birds where I had to kill the ones who wiggled their way in through the cracks in between scrubbing the shampoo out of my hair. I got 8 of them before they gave up trying to come inside.

Then my cell phone got cut off because I didn't pay the bill because I didn't receive the text message that tells me when my bill is due and then when I paid it over the phone it still didn't work. And yes, I tried turning my phone off and back on again multiple times. When I went in the next day it turned out that I also had to pay Josh's phone bill before they would turn mine back on. Meanwhile Josh is in Oman on a different SIM card so he was wholly unaffected by the entire event. On the bright side, the lady at the phone kiosk was very nice and my phone started working again 10 minutes later, just like she promised.

Which is a good thing, because my internet which had been working all week went out again last night and was still out again when I woke up in the morning. But now it's working again so I can't really call the landlord to complain. I can only wait until it goes out again -- which I'm sure it will. There's no such thing as preventative maintenance here. You wait until there's a problem and then you just fix that problem. Maybe. I got the plumber guy to come back and see that my ceiling is still dripping. He said he'd come back in 3 days and caulk the upstairs bathroom tub and see if that solves it. At least I think that's what he's going to do. We made some hand motions and I pointed at the edge of the tub and made some sprinkling water gestures with my hands and I think he said "caulk" in response. There's a lot of head nodding that goes on, but that doesn't mean that anyone understands each other or that anything is really going to happen as a result.

Oh and my cat is either mad about something or getting an infection because this week he decided that he would rather pee on anything but his own cat litter. So far he has struck the dog bed, my comforter, Calvin's homework and a gym bag. He's only still alive because I love my kids more than I'm mad at the cat and they are working to make sure he never does it again. So far we are 3 days pee-free, but he is on probation and going to the vet ASAP.

And finally, my bee saga, chapter 5, continued today. The two maintenance guys came back and asked if they could remove the bees (like I had asked them to two days ago). Yes, please! So they got a long pole and poked at the mass of bees and then ran out into the street. Every few minutes I hear a big clatter against my front steps and know that they have made another attempt with the metal pole and are running away to escape the angry swarm. Like playing doorbell ditch with a beehive.

Increase of force. Set a glove on fire and harass them that way. I may never be able to leave my house again. Whenever life starts to feel really normal here, things like this happen and I realize that I am indeed in a foreign country. 

The Advocate

It's a bit sobering to read about the bombing in Istanbul yesterday seeing as how we were just there, all over that square and could easily have been there ourselves had the timing been different. It's something to be thankful for in the middle of my irritation with Turkish Air who keeps giving me the runaround and saying that they aren't responsible in any way for our missed flight. But I shouldn't be surprised that they are reluctant to part with their Lira based on how our conversation over my luggage went.

The agent called me and said that based on the report that had been issued (and the photos and other documentation that I had submitted), if I came down to the office with the suitcase and the copies of my boarding pass then he would give me $60. So I reluctantly drove myself downtown, hauled my busted up suitcase down the street and into their offices and expected to get paid. Instead, the agent and another representative inspected my bag as if it were a teacup with an invisible chip that they were trying to detect: flipping it over, checking each side, lifting it by the handle to see if it could still be carried, and then he pronounced, "Madame, we will send your bag out to see if it can be repaired and if it can not, then we will pay."

What magical repair fairy is going to put the side back on my suitcase? 

At that point I about lost my mind and said, "NO. That suitcase is trashed. Repairing it is unacceptable. You told me if I came down here then I would get paid. I want my money now." He blinked, made a phone call and said who knows what to the guy on the phone (because he was speaking in another language) and then said to me, "Just a minute." Then he sent his assistant to get cash. When he handed me 22BD I said, "22BD is not 60 dollars. You owe me 500 fils more." He protested that he could only give me what the system said he could give me and I said, "That's fine. Check your system to see what 60 dollars is in BD." He was a bit huffy, but sent the guy to get another 500 fils. (Technically it should have been 600 fils, but I was satisfied with my small moral victory. Don't give me the runaround and then try to cheap out on $1.25. It's not like it was his money anyway.) 

For those who think I should have gotten paid more for the suitcase: Possibly. But, it's 5 years old and we bought it from Ross in 2011 -- on our budget we weren't buying expensive suitcases. It's been our go-to bag because it has the best wheels so it has a lot of miles on it already. I looked up a replacement on Amazon and the exact brand would cost $60 plus $15 for shipping so I figured $60 was "close enough." 

I feel like I've spent a lot of time lately writing complaint letters. First my suitcase issue with Turkish Airlines and now my ticketing issue with Turkish Airlines that is currently in its third phase. They keep denying any responsibility so I keep writing and telling them that they are wrong and why they owe me money. I'm not sure if it will get anywhere, but it makes me feel better that someone is having to spend time researching my issue and responding to my questions and that it's sucking up their time and energy the way it burned up mine. I figure as a writer, I can easily keep them occupied for a pretty long time. 

If only my airline complaints could be as successful as the other letters that I sent this week. I'm generally one to let the kids work out their own issues at school because I think it prepares them to advocate for themselves when they are adults, but sometimes it takes someone with some power to step in and make something happen. 

There was a situation at school that I saw and it didn't really matter in the long run, but the principle was important. The child said, "It's OK mom. I'm fine with things the way they are," but it was bugging me so I sent a quick inquiry. Surprise, surprise! I got a response a few hours later saying that they "were just about to change it" when they got my message. Sure, we'll go with that theory.

I got a similar result when I sent a question to someone at school about Calvin and the start of the varsity soccer season. He was concerned because it usually starts by now. The person said they'd been working on it and the coach would be announced soon. Funny enough, about 20 minutes after that exchange, an email went out with a request to find a coach. I told Calvin to stick with me because I make things happen. 

Now I just need someone to advocate for me with Turkish Airlines . . .

killing time

Day two and hopefully the last in Istanbul (for this trip). We woke up to cloudy skies, mist in the air, and word that snow was coming tomorrow. Normally I'd be disappointed at missing it, but in this case I didn't want any "special weather conditions" getting in-between me and my home. 

We had another excellent Turkish breakfast with olives, cheeses, yogurt, cucumbers, tomatoes, and deli meats with a large side of scrambled eggs that they must put out for the western tourists. Yum, the best of both worlds. 

Then we headed back to my favorite store to buy a few more towels. Well, we intended to just buy Josie a robe as a gift, but then a few more towels jumped into my arms and the kids all found personal favorites, so why not? Who knows when we'll be back. Retail therapy indeed. 

My pretties -- well, the kids' pretties and one of mine. 

Then we walked around, bought a few simits (Turkish pretzels)

and laughed when we realized that Carter's pants were sliding off because he didn't wear a belt to fly home (to make airport security easier) so he'd been struggling with his too big pants on his skinny hips for the past 2 days. 

And in response to my instruction that Caleb open his eyes for the photo because he has his eyes closed in 50% of the shots I take, all the kids gave me crazy wide eyes. I love this view from the rooftop patio of our hotel. Two years earlier this is where we watched New Year's fireworks (and Camille cried). 

With his Turkish top. Caleb is actually pretty good at it. 

He can flip it from the ground and catch it in his hand, still spinning. 

One last stop to visit our friend Josh in his art studio and one last masterpiece created by the kids. 

Calvin even got in on this one -- his is the blue whirling dervish in the bottom right corner. Pretty good. 

Then we headed to lunch to eat fantastic Turkish food -- stuffed eggplant, mushrooms, grilled meats. Comfort food. After lunch we stopped at our favorite dessert place for ice cream, knafeh (a sweet cheese baked with crispy phyllo dough and honey), and Turkish coffee. Then we picked out some Turkish Delight to take home and headed back to our hotel. 

The only rain we got on our entire trip. Just a light sprinkle. Perfect for walking. 

The end. Halas. Time to go home. Finally. 

Take 50

After the internet was completely useless yesterday, to the point that I googled how to use my phone as a hotspot so I could watch Law & Order: SVU while I knit, I complained to Josh and he said he would message the landlord today. So of course it's working beautifully today. Whatever. Oh Bahrain, how you like to tease me. Now I'm just waiting for the plumber to come back and fix the leak in my bathroom ceiling. He said he would come "someday" (no, not Sunday, SOMEday) so I'm just waiting on pins and needles for that exciting event to occur. 

Back on topic: In the last few months I’ve decreased my Zoloft dose by 1/2 — from 50 to 25mg/day in case anyone cares about the details. I thought that maybe decreasing my dose would cause an increase in other things: alertness, deeper feelings, less apathy, more motivation to do something besides knit and binge watch TV. [I wrote this while we were on vacation and hadn't read through it again until after writing the top paragraph. I swear I don't have a TV addiction, even if it sounds that way.] I thought maybe being at peace was causing me to let everything go, not just my worries. I figured by decreasing to 25mg I’d get the benefits of going off of my medicine while keeping a baseline to keep from ever falling into a hole. I know someone else who is on 25 and they seem to be doing really well on that dose, so why not me?

I think it’s been about 2 months now and I realized this past week that I need the 50. It’s probably not noticeable to the casual observer, but I find myself in my head more and evaluating my thoughts more often and checking in with my mental state. I’ve had a few intrusive thoughts/worries, like when I ran into the pharmacy to pick up my refill (ironic, I know) I left the dog in the car with the windows rolled partway down, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was going to report me to the MPs (military police) for dog neglect and sprinted back to the car after 2 minutes, relieved to find that no one cared two bits about my dog being in the car on a cold day. I think in Real Life (not Military Life), I might be OK, but with all the extra traveling, weird things that happen living overseas, and a probable move on the horizon, I need the extra boost. 

The trip this past week to Budapest has shown me how much the Zoloft is still helping me. I felt much more on edge and less relaxed then I have been on our past few family trips. I’m kind of bummed because I had been operating under the assumption that I continue to take medicine, not because I need it now, but because I don’t ever want to go back to that dark place and dig myself out of that hole again. But it turns out I’m still a nutter at heart and in my head. Flying fears popping up again. Stressful airport transfers. Getting stuck in my own brain and willing the plane to stop bouncing around in the sky through sheer force of my thoughts. It's so 1999. It hasn’t been horrible, but it’s been work. And not enjoyable work. We were headed out this morning on an hour long flight to Munich — an hour I’ve had mastered for a while. Easy peasy. Up, get a drink from the cart, and down before I even get restless. But as we pulled away from the gate I suddenly had that overwhelming urge to run — to get up out of my seat and beg to be let off the plane. Goodness. Pass the 50! Hopefully by the end of this week I will have a bit more serotonin in my brain and will be able to make the trip home with ease, the way travel has become for me the past few years. I’ve started taking it for granted. I guess a little reality check is good for my ego and my soul.



Addendum: in hindsight, it's a really great thing that I went back to my normal dose right before our extra-stressful, unpredictable, go with the flow trip home via Istanbul. I can't imagine how much worse I would have felt without it. Gearing up for an eventful spring -- waiting for orders, extra decisions to make about summer and our future, possibly adding another foreign country to our list of home addresses . . . 50 is where I need to be. Or even 75!

Foiled

Ever since we returned home, our internet has been terrible. I'm not even sure what it's like to live in a world with speeds that are any faster than AOL dial-up, but this is ridiculous. I thought it was because we were at the end of the month (if you use up your allotted data amount you lose what little speed you have for the remainder of the month), but here I am on Jan 4th and my connection has been up and down all day. 

Of course it's while I'm trying to work on my annual photo calendar project. When it's up I'm getting 2 photos in 20 minutes. When it's down I get an error message, a blank screen, and a headache. 

And my personal tech support is gone for the month -- I bet he's getting better internet at his hotel in Oman. Oh well, at least I have 3/4G on my phone (depending on where I stand in the house) so I'm not cut off completely. But I can't finish my travel blog posts, my calendar, or stream any episodes of Law & Order, my go-to show for background TV entertainment when I'm working on a project. 

My next project is to locate the Turkish Airlines downtown office, lug this broken suitcase down there and collect my $60 from them. I'm not even sure if it's worth it. If I had known it would require a trip downtown I would have demanded $200. 

My computer just came back online so I better get back to my calendar before it drops off again. Maybe I'll get 3 photos uploaded before the kids get home from school. 

False alarm: before I could even finish this post, it kicked off again. Next duty station wish list: 1) fast, reliable internet. 

Mistaken Vacation

This is our third time in Istanbul, and each visit reinforces why I love this country so much. 

It is the perfect blend of East meets West, Europe flavored with the Middle East, and Muslim culture balanced by a secular government. Today was a sort of Homecoming as we went back to all of our favorite places and reunited with people who have become friends after repeat visits, though as things go here, we were treated as friends from the start. 

Of all the places to visit in the city, my kids wanted to visit the Art Studio first. It doesn't show up on any of the Top 10 Isranbul lists, but it's a place that Mom found on our first trip in August 2012 and we've returned multiple times every time we've been in town. 

The Art Studio is part of a school for the preservation of traditional Turkish art and our friend, who runs the store, is the one who does all the painting on oil. Even though it's been two years he recognizes us when we walk in and is amazed by how much Camille has grown. He shows us pictures of his daughter, who wasn't born yet when we last saw him and we catch up while the kids "paint." (Swirl the paint around in the oil to make marbled designs that are then lifted onto paper.) 

We browse through his newest works and admire his wife's caligraphy (they are both artists) and see lots of things we'd love to take home. Before we leave he gives Camille a bracelet from "Uncle" and we arrange to come back in the afternoon to pick up the kids' artwork. I have warm fuzzies already. 

Next up is the Grand Bazaar, just because it's huge and winding and expansive. I don't think we've ever bought anything there, but the hundreds of shops are a must see as we wander through and see beautiful carpets, pottery, lamps and jewelry. All from a distance because if you show a liking for anything, the salesmen are on you like a hawk on prey. I hate shopping like that. 

The architecture is as beautiful as the goods that are sold inside. 

We left the souk and made our way through some back streets to find the Egyptian spice market -- good thing Josh is our navigator. He seemed to know exactly where to go as we walked the streets where all the locals shop (the souk has everything at tourist prices). 

If I had luggage I could have stocked up on beads, shiny thread and all sorts of other sewing items. 

Josh led us right there. We do like to buy things at the Egyptian Spice Market. Specifically Turkish Delight and apple tea from a particular shop. 

Josh catching up with his Egyptian friend

Camille downing her glass of apple tea. Before we left (loaded up with Turkish Delight), our friend scooped some extra treats into a bag for Camille, saying she could eat them herself or share them with her brothers. She took his instructions to heart later, saying, "He said to share if I want to!"

The New Mosque is actually from the 1600s. It's just newer than the other ones!

We headed from the spice market up over the Galata bridge that spans the Golden Horn waterway. It was a gorgeous, warm, sunny day and all the fishermen were out catching anchovies.

We paused to watch a guy reel in a fish and he pulled one out of his bucket for Camille to hold. I'm always wowed by how much people here love little kids and how they go out of their way to make them happy. 

Standing in Europe, looking across at Asia

After our walk we took the tram back up the hill toward our hotel.

The kids were hungry so we bought roasted corn, 50 cents each. Corn on the cob here is much different than corn in the US. When I eat corn in California, it tastes sweet and light, like a vegetable. In the Middle East (and in Turkey) corn tastes like a grain. It's chewy and heavy and dense. It's good, but not the same. 

After dropping the kids off at the hotel Josh, Calvin, and I headed to a place I've been dreaming about since the last time we left Turkey. On our previous trip we bought 3 handwoven towels that are one of the best souvenirs I've bought on any of our trips. They are lush and soft and with 2 years of daily use, look the same as the day I bought them. They are so thick that I've used them as blankets and beautiful enough to be couch throws. And the first thought that popped into my head in the airport as we were running to our gate was, "Well, if we miss our flight, at least I get to go buy some more towels." 

This was one room of 3. I'm pretty sure I'm getting a preview of heaven.

I felt all the fabrics, picked out a few towels (I wanted them all) and then Josh and I both found spa-style robes. If we had been in town for another day they have a tailor on site that can take any woven towel from the shop and turn it into a robe, but then I would have taken even longer deciding on if or what to buy, so it's probably a good thing that option wasn't available to us. 

Then we went home and I took a nap in my new robe that I didn't think I needed and wasn't going to buy, but have worn every possible minute since I got it so once again, Josh was right. 

A late dinner, some Turkish tea and cards (and a book for me) and then we went to sleep for hopefully our last night in a hotel on this trip.