Woopah!

I've got my clothing, I've got an exit-reentry visa, I've got a lot of well-organized and well-labled binders and baby, I'm a-goin' to Japan!

Sorry for the total lack of communicatiano. I have been.... scottish dancing and eating curry! And iftaring at chilis! And... life is so good.

More to come.

Ramadan Kareem!

Hello all. Sorry for the blogging hiatus for the last week or so. Things have been.... not busy, exactly, but distracting.

Ramadan mubarak everyone! Yes, the holy month of Ramadan started here in Saudi Arabia last Thursday. I did my very first intentional fast on Saturday (those of you who were around during the funness of my last Ramadan in Saudi will be aware that I have done plenty of unintentional fasting before) and I have to say that it's much harder to fast on purpose. Suddenly, food seems so very attractive when you tell yourself you can't have it. It's also not at all fun to get up at 4:30 to eat before dawn - but obviously not eating before dawn is even less pleasant. And I did more than this - I did the very typical Saudi thing, watching for maghrib (sunset prayer) on TV as the azan (call to prayer) was recited in Mecca and Medina, breaking my fast, and then I followed that with the VERY traditional (at least in modern times) Saudi sitcom of Tash ma Tash. And for those of you unfamiliar with this Saudi phenomenon, it's not quite a sitcom. It's more like SNL, in that the same actors play a variety of characters. Each episode presents some sort of tragicomic look at Saudi society; it's become quite scandalous in recent years, having a "Terror Academy" show last year and just yesterday airing a highly dramatized episode showing an honor killing.

This show is, of course, in Arabic, and in a very strong Saudi dialect of which I understand not a word (wala kalima, as we would say in Arabic). I can get the gist, though, from the fact that it is HUGELY overacted. I also hope to one day perhaps understand some of it, but since Saudi friends tell me there are bits even THEY don't understand, I feel like perhaps I will have to have patience.

Speaking of Saudi friends, my dear Dima (and her mother, grandmother, and the entire rest of her family) were kind enough to invite me to their Friday family gathering for iftar and dinner. I felt a little like I did going to meet the ex-Queen two years ago, because I knew I would be expected to speak some Arabic which, of course, is blatantly terrifying. But it turned out wonderfully. Granted, I didn't say much, but it's hard to break into a vernacular-language conversation occuring very fast and with a lot of overlap. But I took a lot in, and understood a fair amount of it (albeit generally scattered words only - putting the whole thing together will take a bit more time). Her whole family was extremely nice to me; one of the four-year-old (I think!) little girls brought over her English workbook (with lots of prodding from her father) to show me the vegetables and the milk and other supermarket items. I dunno if she was reading, or if she'd memorized it, but it was very impressive. If only American children could be taught second languages from this early an age. I also spoke to one of Dima's cousins, the only one in the house who remained fully covered the whole night (face, hair, etc). Her name was Basma, and it was a bit disconcerting to realize mid-conversation that I probably won't recognize her if I see her again, but she was delightful to talk to. And of course, Dima's grandmother and the other older members of the family were extremely friendly (apparently Dima's grandmother used to be an amazing seamstress! I ooze with jealousy.) although it was hard to communicate with them since my Arabic is stilted. In the future, inshallah, it will be better.

AND, um, aside from that, work is really picking up, which is fantastic because a) I hate being bored and b) I am figuring out what I'm doing. I am really digging in, and I think I may one day actually be good at this job!

Phew. That was a lot of random catching up. I have nothing of particular interest to announce, unfortunately, beyond the fact that I have recently discovered a fantastic not-quite-blog The News of the Weird, which collects fantastic and ridiculous news stories from around the world. I say it's a not-quite-blog since it's syndicated in a number of newspapers and does have a fair amount of journalistic integrity. I have been back-reading the archives because it's so entertaining. Here is, thus far, my favorite piece:

Good News / Bad News: Stevie Long, 4, was successful in scaring off two home invaders who had been holding a gun on his mother, her boyfriend, and four children; Stevie had quietly excused himself, put on his Mighty Morphin Power Ranger outfit, grabbed a plastic sword, and then burst on the scene, yelling, "Get away from my family!" The startled men fled empty-handed. The bad news is that a counselor, after talking to Stevie, said that the kid "fully believed he morphed" into the Power Ranger. (from News of the Weird, December 4, 2006)

Finally, I want to mention briefly that my littlest little sister is starting college today/tomorrow! Yay for Alice! Many congratulations to her, may life be lovely.

And on that note, I will go watch an episode of Star Trek and read Guns, Germs and Steel, my most recent book.

Farewell!

Mean People Are Awesome

Regarding the following ridiculous and wonderful set of photographs:

Elisabeth: people are so weird.

Rachel: you mean ppl are AWESOME.

Elisabeth: i'm a mean person?

Elisabeth: what?

Rachel: no.

Rachel: by saying that they're weird you meant awesome

Elisabeth: ah.

...

Elisabeth: but yes.

Elisabeth: people are awesome

Elisabeth: and fabuloso

Rachel: AND fabuloso

Striding into the future!

Hello all,

I am feeling hugely optimistic today about life and, above all, this fantastic place where I work. Sure, some things get done in interesting time, and some things aren't always wonderfully organized, and some things are frustrating and/or really entertaining, but this place is really an exciting place to be. We had new employee orientation today and it's not that they said anything that was particularly new, or motivating or inspiring, but I got to meet a lot of people that I remember from last time I was here and, more importantly, I got to meet and talk to a lot of the new employees (like me!). And there are some really, really fantastic people here. And everybody seems very excited about things. And some of the new Vice Deans seem extraordinarily positive and upbeat and energetic, and I think that will really push us into the future. Anything is possible!

And things are improving every day. What everybody has to remember when judging this place is that it was opened in 1999. That makes it less than a decade old. As one woman said to me once, can you imagine what it must have been like to be Yale College at under a decade old? They were Puritan ministers, all of them, concerned with converting the heathens and saving the world one well-covered sinful soul at a time. I recently watched a movie with Julie Andrews in it called "Hawaii," about a minister from Yale and his wife (he had to marry Julie Andrews kindof sight-unseen because missionaries were only allow to go abroad if they brought wives with them, so as to avoid being tempted by the local heathen women as they ran around bare-breasted). I mean, it was a very entertaining film. But at the end of the day, that's what Yale was like until.... I mean, pretty far on into its history. So this place is, comparatively, doing pretty darn well. Do you suppose Yale had a curriculum review process at the age of 8? Probably not. Do we? You bet your socks. Well, sortof.

Anyway, I know I spend a lot of time here commenting on how ridiculous everything is (I made my first recon mission into the men's wing the other day -- this was something different from discovering the hidden man across the hall from me -- and it turns out they have their own little coven in the middle of one of the academic buildings, where all of the male professors have their offices, and the man in charge of IT stuff, and all of that. A very useful location to be familiar with.). And some things ARE ridiculous. But for every ridiculous thing there is something fantastic. Like the fact that we apparently have a 93% retention rate, which is apparently something of a miracle, I am told.

Additionally, we are really pushing the envelope on women's education and women's place in the workplace, and i think few people outside of Saudi Arabia realize how much progress has been made. The mere fact that there ARE male professors is kindof amazing; men would never have been allowed to teach young women in the past (and sure, girls who want to take classes with male teachers still need to get permission from their fathers). We have the first undergraduate Architecture and the first Engineering programs EVER for women. We have opened three new majors in the space of the last five years, and we only graduated our first class in 2003.

I just want to highlight the fact that if there was ever in the world a place with nearly unlimited potential, it is here, and now. There really isn't a more exciting place a person like me could be working.

Inshallah things will continue to be fantastic!

In the meantime, something to add to the list of ridiculous things. Ramadan starts at the end of this week sometime (this is not the ridiculous thing), and during Ramadan all normally 8-4 hours are shortened to 10-3 (this is the ridiculous thing). So, in addition to having nearly two and a half weeks of vacation at the end of Ramadan for Eid and whatnot, classes barely meet and people barely work. All over the country. And NOW you know why I am concerned things which are left until Ramadan will never get done. I mean, I understand that people have very different priorities during Ramadan, and that is as it should be, but to practically shut everything down for a full month is... extreme, in my opinion. Especially because, coming at the beginning of the school year as Ramadan does this year, it makes it unfortunately very likely that classes won't really get any momentum going until AFTER Ramadan ends - which is late October! No wonder the Fall semester this year feels like it's going to be a mad-house.

That's all I have to say for the moment.

Mommy, there's a man in the closet!

I have just discovered something: EC has an infestation of men. They are everywhere, hiding in the woodwork like hard-working pixies, or the shoemaker's elves.

I had always assumed that the office across the hall from mine was empty and not in use, since it was always locked and didn't have any sort of sign outside and because I never saw anybody using it. But today! Somebody came with a set of keys and opened it and stepped into an alternate universe! An alternate universe where there was a MAN sitting in the room, under lock and key, doing who knows what.

It was shocking and appalling. In all of my time at EC, I have never known that there were men hiding under my very nose.

Haraam!

Bite me, Rachel. If I wanna post again, I will

I just made myself a sandwich for dinner, made of ingredients purchased at the store where I keeled over this afternoon.

And I just want to tell y'all....

This sandwich? It tastes like victory.

walk like a man

so after surviving another summer of arabic eloquance and death at middlebury, i have now migrated back to the warmer, less civilized side of the country (god bless) and have set up shop in SF. unfortunately this is a rather lonely little shop bc the internship i was anticipating has been pushed back 2 weeks. just long enough to make spending a ridiculous amount of money on this rather lovely little apt totally unnecessary. however, i have managed to come to terms with this unfortunate waste of my (parent's) money. it was hard, but i am strong.

so ive been availing myself of the delights of san francisco. the plays, the museums, the transvestites.

on my way to SF i stopped in louisiana to visit relatives and one kind family friend warned me - upon hearing that i was living by myself in SF - "now rachel, you have to be very careful in SF. it's a big, dangerous city. someone might break into your apt and mistake you for a man."

....you know. bc the only reason id be in danger would be if i were i man.

....bc everyone in SF is gay.


get it?

anyway, parilee + boytoy moved out about a week ago, leaving me with a box of her stuff for me to mail. this i do not begrudge her, especially after remembering the various blowfish decorations and library books i left behind last time i left stanford. this box was a bit larger than my blowfish though. id say it was about two and a half feet long and a foot and a half tall. totally full. weighed as much as i do. this is not baby box. this is over-weight unhappily unmarried auntie box.

this morning's adventure commenced when i remembered that i should have mailed it on monday (i had been using it as a bedside table) and with a sudden burst of enthusiasm i decided to mail it immidiately. look at my dedication, parilee! i figured it would take all of 5 minutes - theres a post-office in my building - so i dont bother to change out of my pjs. in retrospect, i probably should have at least changed into some less see-through pants (white pants. black underwear. i am all class), but maalesh. i grab my purse and sort of kick/push the box out the door, into the elevator, and out into the main section of the building. lots of apologies all around as i almost run it into 3 different people. i get out into the lobby, and the floor goes from carpet to wood. shiny, slippery wood, and the box no longer wants to move as easily. after learning from the doorman that the post office is on the other side of the building (of course), i walk back over to the monster of a box, take a deep breath, and start pushing. its all physics, right? friction. and leverage. push with your legs. right. so i put my hands on the corners of the box closest to me, take a deep breath, and PUSH. the box moves all of 6 inches. my frictionless flipflops (which are, may i point out, attached to my feet) shoot out backwards about 2 feet. there's a timeless moment as the rest of me hovers about a foot above the ground, cartoon style, and then i drop. full frontal splat. awesome. i scramble up, sit on the box and quickly look around. gotta keep my dignity here. no one's laughing. ok. deep breaths. is there any other possible way of doing this? ............................no. ok. i am practical. i can do this. i do not care if i look like an idiot. i am above the opinions of others. i am going to get this damn box to the damn post office and send it. right now. so i get back up, and do it again. and again. every time i push the box my feet slide backwards about the same distance the box moves forward. so there i am. bent almost double, wearing a less-than-decent (but cute) pajama outfit, pushing (sort of) this gargantuan THING in a vaguely silk-worm-esq manner - 30 degree angle, 130 degree angle - across the front lobby. the bustling, busy lobby.

i dont think my dignity will ever recover.

luckily about 10 minutes into it a guard takes pity on my poor, belabored form, walks up, grabs the box (without even a mother may I) and carries it the rest of the way with me trotting along behind him. i must have thanked him 20 times.

of course once i get to the post office i am informed that the box is not strong enough to be shipped. so, sitting down in the middle of a california state post office in my pajamas i proceed to unpack parilee's entire life and pack it up into 3 other, smaller boxes. an hour and much attention later, ive earned twenty million friend points, the postal lady hates me and ive managed to send all three boxes. success! i rock.

more normal adventures include wandering SF, exploring the MOMA (mmmmmmmmyum), forgetting to go to jersey boys, buying a new ticket, going to jersey boys, and wearing my new cute work shoes everywhere but to work. oh and i figured out how to use my oven AND my laundry machine. i give you permission to admire me from afar.

oh! and i have the california state YOYO championship to go to tomorrow. how much do you wish you were me right now. yeah. thats what i thought.

Shop 'Til You Drop

So. This is an embarrassing post, because it's an embarrassing situation. Let me just quickly say that Dima is officially my favorite person in the universe. And I am officially .... not cool.

I was so proud of myself earlier today, too. I actually managed to feed myself! I cooked noodles, put a bunch of sauce on them and voila! my first meal in my new home! I sent everybody I know giant letters about how much I rock, and how super competent I am. And then Dima, bless her soul, agreed to go shopping with me (we both had to go to Jarir and Panda so we decided to do a joint trip even though her stuff took a lot less time than mine did - she's friendly like that).

So we went to Jarir, we went to Panda and... wow. We had both forgotten that school starts TOMORROW. So everyone in the universe was out getting school supplies from Jarir and groceries from Panda. And add on top of that the fact that Ramadan starts at the end of this week and.... well, it was a madhouse. The largest quantity of Saudis I've seen in one shopping mall in a while... and that's saying something.

And I guess the combo of all of this got to me in the end because as we stood in the checkout line, after an hour of shoving our way through people and looking for groceries, I started to feel dizzy. And then I was dreaming happily...and then I was being rudely reawakened by Dima, since I had passed out on the floor. And then I was dreaming again. And then I was passed out. And then I was sitting in the makeup aisle while Dima ran to get me a couple of little bottles of orange juice, which I chugged sitting on the floor. And then... well, then I was fine, and we bought the stuff, and brought it up here, and whatnot and... here I am.

This happened once to my sister in the gold souq in Riyadh. Only she got a giant gold bracelet out of it, and I just had to pay for all of my groceries. Good times. At least the floor in the makeup aisle was cleaner than the floor of the shop in the gold souq.

A good time, overall. Especially the dreaming bits. I feel like they were interesting dreams, if only I could remember them.

So. As Dima said afterwards, "Talk about shop 'til you drop!"

Amen, sister.

Change of Plans

Hi all.

I woke up at 7 so tired I could barely move, and I decided that no beach was worth this. So I begged out, and slept another five hours, and I feel GOOD. New projects for the weekend will have to be a) work stuff, b) find food (I'm responsible for my own food now!), c) .... yeah that might be it.

In very interesting news, the Arab News ran a piece yesterday (which I can't find online or I would link to it) that stated that Nepal Airlines sacrificed two goats yesterday to the Hindu sky deity. Apparently they've been having trouble with their airplanes. May their God be appeased.

UPDATE: I found this article cited on the Reuters site - Rachel found it and sent it to me. Ah, it's good to have a sister that thinks the same way you do.

Yes, that's all I've got for now. It's a lovely afternoon and I intend to enjoy it.

They Call Me THE WHITE CHICK

Even though I'm tired, it is imperative that I record the ridiculousness of the evening so that I can remember it later. And it was a ridiculous evening. I really love Team Fabulous. And I think there's an excellent chance that we actually will start bowling on a weekly basis. We ended up going bowling and then going to dinner at a new restaraunt (affiliated with Pizzaria UNO) called the Chicago Grill which is kindof down the street from the bowling alley. Overall, a fantastic evening.

So we went to this place called Ice Land (two words) where they have a bowling alley. Near as I can tell, there is no reason to call it ice land. maybe there's a skating rink in there somewhere? I dunno. Anyway.... man, my typing is screwy now. The computer they put in my office is mainly Arabic, which means that the formatting in Word is all screwy and works backwards, even when you are typing in English. This means that in order to move the cursor this way -------> I have to push the button this way <-------- . So now I've gotten used to doing that and so here, on my nice English computer, I keep moving the cursor in the wrong direction. Anyhow, so we went to Ice Land. And by the way, apparently I cover my head like a pro now. Yes, Dima says she could barely tell I was a white girl. Go me! And, what's even stranger is that it no longer feels weird to have it on. I haven't gotten to the point where I feel naked without it - please, God, spare me that - but it doesn't feel bizarre any more. And I can get it to stay on pretty well, too. Yessir, I am on my way to being Saudi. And, if I do say so myself, I don't look half bad with a covered head.

So we found the bowling alley (with a sheesha bar attached) and got shoes and hiked up our abayas and went and bowled. And it was lovely. We were all quite bad, but it was a good time anyway.

The hilight in terms of entertaining comments must have been Dima. I got two gutterballs in a row, giving me a fancy zero on my scorecard, to which Dima says: "It's because you're a Christian." Thank you Dima, for that religiously tolerant point of view. Ah, it's good to know that your friends love you and are willing to keep you company in hell.

Also, we got to come up with bowling names. Dima was Dimzi (shocker), and Penny was... Penny.... and Mona was Melvi... so none of these are surprising. I suggested the Bozinator as mine, but instead they decided to name me The White Chick, and I think unfortunately that that name might stick.

Plus, we were endlessly entertained by the group of guys (two brothers and a third) who were "bowling" in the alley two down from us, who kept staring at us. Well, when I say "us" I mean "me". They were blatently staring at me. Like, STARING. Not surreptitious glances. Full-on can't-take-my-eyes-off-you staring. It was creepy. Luckily, they were young and stupid and had greasy hair, so I found it difficult to take them seriously.

I did, however, manage to secretly get a picture of them when I was pretending to take a picture of Dima (you can also see them laughing in the background of the picture of me, above, although it's not that clear).

There was also a little girl (teeny tiny) who seemed entranced by the whiteness of my skin. Apparently, I am noticable. Who knew? We spent some time sitting in chairs, as well (Penny compared the lounge area to an airport lounge, and I feel like she was pretty spot on) and hanging out, because of course it is haram to bowl during salat. When we were taking our shoes off at the end of the bowling extravaganza creepy guy came over and sat down right next to Melvi, despite the huge number of empty chairs that were available. I almost threw a very American fit and hit him in the face, but I wasn't mad so much as I was entertained, so whatever. Be creepy, creepy guy. Maybe if you stare at me long enough I'll go out with you. And then we went and hung around Toys 'R' Us for a while, playing with stuffed animals and fencing with foam swords and generally making a nuisance of ourselves (it's good to be silly) and then drove over to the restaraunt, where we had to beg to be let in because it was 'isha prayer and everything was locked, but when Dima looked pathetic and said "but the Ministry [of Preventing Vice and Promoting Virtue] will come take us away if we just stand out here!" they let us in the back and we got to sit down, cackling. And eat and drink and be merry. As one does.

Also, I am sortof a teeny bit learning my way around! Like, I know now three things that are on the same road with Ice Land, PLUS I accurately identified al-Andalus street and knew that there was a Panda on the other side of the ship roundabout. Heck, I practically know this city like the back of my hand already.

Future plans, however, include stealing a map of Jeddah from Dima and posting important landmarks all over it (namely malls and roundabouts and restaraunts) so that I can find my way around when the girls and their lovely drivers aren't there to drive me around. And Dima's driver Ramadan blatantly laughed at me today when I was singing "I will survive" loudly (and probably obnoxiously) in the parking lot of the Chicago Grill while we waited for Melvi's driver to show up. I think he finds me entertaining. Which is good. I like to endear myself to the people who are capable of transporting me.

Tomorrow we're off to the beach! Me and Dr. Annette, and some of the other staff here in the residence. It should be a good time... if I can avoid getting burned as thoroughly as I did this time of year LAST time I was in Jeddah; my face swelled up so that I looked like some kind of lobster-colored caveman. It was quite attractive. I hope to avoid that look this year. But I have to get up really early to get there (8:30 - who gets up at 8:30 to go to the BEACH?) so I'm off to bed now. Although to be fair I'll probably get to the beach and take a nap in the sun.

I was talking to Dr. Annette today about travel plans. That woman has gone EVERYWHERE. She is my travel guru. This past summer she and a bunch of highschool friends walked a couple of days from the border of Portugal into Spain to a pilgrimage site that has been around since the Middle Ages. Dr. Annette, her friends, and a stream of pilgrims, all wandering down a dusty road in southern Spain. How cool! I seriously want to do this sometime. Anybody with me? That's it for now. Off to bed.

Day Two: still kicking, like a kicking rockstar!

I don't have much ridiculousness to report yet from the work end. There's a ton of stuff I have to do, but I feel like that's a good thing, since I spend eight hours (or more) a day doing it. So, yes. Work is satisfactory. What is MORE satisfactory is the overall way I spent yesterday. Here is my schedule.

7am - wake up (sortof)
7:15am - wake up again
7:30am - wake up for real, put on clothing
8:00am - work begins (it's bad news, don't you think, that I am already pushing the limits of how late I can get up, and it's only my third day?)
4:00pm - work ends. Stuff happened in between, but none of it is worth commenting on here.
5:00pm - I go out!
7:00pm - I come home
7:30pm - I go out again!
11:30pm - I come home

LOOK at me. I am so BUSY. and FANCY. and COOL.

Okay, so let me tell you about my excursions. The first was a landmark event - the first time in my more-than-five-years in Saudi that I went out of the house alone. Obviously, I had a driver, but the important element is that when I got to the mall, I got out alone, I went in alone, and I did my shopping alone! Last time I was here as a student I was required to bring a maid with me whenever I left the dorm, and before that when I was here with the family I can't imagine why I would have gone out without a family member or a friend... so! I am finally a free and independent woman. Doing my own shopping, buying some books and laundry detergent AND A SIM CARD. OH YEAH BABY. I have a cell phone. It is such a relief. Not having a cell phone made me feel like I was missing a limb. In Saudi, the cell phone is, in fact, a limb, and without it.... I arrived three days ago, and yet whenever I tell people I don't have a mobile they look at me like I've just told them I didn't bring any clothing with me. Yes folks, not only am I going to work naked, but I am doing it WITHOUT A CELL PHONE. The horrors!

Of course, for the first hour or two of owning this SIM card it wasn't working, and I was throwing myself hither and yon in frustration, wailing and gnashing my teeth. But then Penny, darling lovely Penny, touched it with her magic fingers and suddenly it worked. Ah, the joys.

So after my adventurous single-woman excursion, Mona picked me up for a Team Fabulous dinner at Caspar & Gambini's, the neat modern restaraunt that I enjoyed so much last time I was here. I had mint with lime (yum!) for the first time this trip (I will have to learn how to make it) and met one of Penny's friends, Lamees, who seems fantastic. I'm making new friends already!

Also, for reasons I cannot reveal, I may be required to go to Hyderabad, India this summer. Who? Oh yeah. That would be me. Ha! Writhe in jealousy, you wanna-be awesome people! I am the real deal! I'm so awesome I get to go to India over the summer! here will be an event. And I am going to be the weird white girl who dresses in a sari and makes a fool of herself for her friend's entertainment. There was some discussion that pole dancing might be involved, but I think that before I go that far I should probably take some pole dancing lessons. After all, if I'm going to be a shameless American hussy, I should at least do it with style. It would be really embarrassing to be an awkward shameless American hussy.

Anyone know of pole dancing classes in Saudi Arabia?

There are a ton of other plans in the works which are all very exciting. Suffice it to say my sister was jealous of me yesterday. And this is the sister who spent last year in Cairo smoking shisha and being awesome. She's jealous of ME. Ha!

Okay, off to work! Hopefully I will get some time to sit around and be bored this afternoon, maybe do some laundry, take a nap, etc. Being fabulously popular and busy takes its toll on a girl after a while.

Bwahahahahahah!

I am Employable!

Hey there blog fans, something amazing happened today. I began my employment, which implies that I am employable. Can we say ego boost?

Of course, since this is Saudi Arabia, nothing is simple or to be taken for granted, so of course my first day was full of its own joyful ridiculousness.

They sent me to go get pictures taken and blood drawn. Of course, nobody bothered to tell ME this was where they were sending me - instead, they talked about it in Arabic all around me, so that I vaguely had some idea of what was going on, and then they sent me out with a driver who didn't speak much English, and I guess I was just supposed to assume he knew what he was doing. Luckily, he did. Thank goodness for trustworthy, competent drivers. Where would we be without them?

Not that it was clear to me in the beginning that he was competent or trustworthy. He took me to a supermarket first. "Okay," I think to myself, "he probably has an errand to run or something." But he motions me out of the car. Or, I think he motions me out of the car - it was pretty unclear exactly what he was trying to communicate to me, but I got out of the car anyway and followed him in. We walk towards the fruit. "Ah," I think, "I'm an idiot - he only wanted to buy himself something to eat. I shouldn't have come in." But we move further back, into the vegetable oil section (since it's near Ramadan every single supermarket in the universe is selling vegetable oil by the gallon. I, myself, bought a full 4 litres the other day because it was the SMALLEST QUANTITY AVAILABLE). And then through the vegetable oil section into the non-food section. "Okay..." I think, "We're here to buy.... a microwave. Clothing for his children. A tent for camping...." And then, in the midst of my confusion, we arrive in the back corner of the store where a teeeeeeny tiny little camera shop has been cleverly hidden. And in this teeeeeny tiny little camera shop there is a man who doesn't speak, and his camera and computer and a printer. So he takes a picture of me, downloads it onto his camera and starts... airbrushing my face. "It's okay," I say, "I am just using this for my igama, it's not necessary for you to touch it up." And the picture on the screen is gigantic, you can practically see my pores from where I'm standing all the way across the room, and the driver is standing there, and you can tell that he thinks it's really awkward that this guy is scrutinizing my enormous digital face right in front of me. And I agree. Awkward. The guy finally looks up from my nose and forehead in order to tell me he has to fix my face because of the pimples. Pimples! Well, I'll be. He knows at least one word. And thanks, dude, for talking about my acne (which, by the way, is not that bad, thank you very much) in front of my random driver and... I mean, come on, just print the stupid pictures, I don't want to stand here looking at my giant face any longer!

So, that was a good time.

And then on to the blood-letting. I went to a Bangladeshi clinic where the woman at reception spoke some language which was neither Bengali nor English but some incomprehensible amalgam of the two, and directed me to give her my igama repeatedly, which I repeatedly said I didn't yet have, explaining that this was why i needed the blood tests. And after lots of wrangling I got sent upstairs to room number 8 where my blood was drawn unceremoniously. But I was impressed by the amount I was not afraid of getting random diseases from dirty needles. Everything seemed a lot less sterile than I am used to, but not so much as to be actually dangerous.

SO, yes. All was good on my first day. Of course, not much got actually accomplished, but at least I'm on my way. Striding forward.