Return

At the gate, I sit in a row of blue seats
with the possible company of my death,
this sprawling miscellany of people -
carry-on bags and paperbacks -

that could be gathered in a flash
into a band of pilgrims on the last open road.
Not that I think
if our plane crumpled into a mountain,

we would all ascend together,
holding hands like a ring of skydivers,
into a sudden gasp of brightness,
or that there would be some common place

for us to reunite to jubilize the moment,
some spaceless, pillarless Greece
where we could, at the count of three,
toss our ashes into the sunny air.

It's just that the way that man has his briefcase
so carefully arranged,
the way that girl is cooling her tea,
and the flow of the comb that woman

passes through her daughter's hair...
and when you consider the altitude,
the secret parts of engines,
and all the hard water and the deep canyons below...

well, I just think it would be good if one of us
maybe stood up and said a few words,
or, so as not to involve the police,
at least quietly wrote something down.

- "Passengers" by Billy Collins, from Picnic, Lightning

I don't think I've ever had less desire to get on a plane. A lot of the adventure has worn off now that I've been here for two months, and all that is left seemed, from that vantage point, to be the misery. But I've convinced myself, and I think correctly, that I have a lot left to learn. I also know, from experience, that things always get better. Particularly when it comes to new places and new people. Unless I give it a good chance, here, I really will have been a failure. And I haven't given it a good chance. I've been too busy feeling sorry for myself. Granted, I had good excuses - smashing my toe, going hungry, and suffering culture shock all at the same time - but that time is over. Now is the time for grabbing at life with both hands and a good appetite.

There is a fine line between persistence and muleishness. I hope somebody warns me when I cross it.

Vacation was exactly what this girl needed to put me back on my feet again. So here I am. I did a lot of dancing, a lot of reading, and a lot of reconnecting with family and friends. I'm back, a stranger in a strange land, but I've got all sorts of people to remind me who I am and that it's okay for me to be different. And I'm not that much of a stranger any more. Granted, I still sound like a demented infant when I try to speak Arabic, but all good things come in time. And now I know people, and I'm more comfortable with the system (or lack of one), and I'm ready to stop being the shy and unadventurous girl the girls down the hall think I am. Ha.

Jeddah, the bits of it I've seen since I got in last night, hasn't changed much. I got into my room and noticed immediately that the place had been 'neatened'. I hate it when people mess with my stuff, and now everything I had organized in relatively memorable places is stacked in 'neat' piles. I even left one bit of work sitting on my pillow so I wouldn't forget it, but even that had been moved and put under thirteen other things. It took me a while to re-messify my room to my liking. But now I feel pretty comfortable and in control. Of course, I haven't left the room basically since I got in, but I'm nearly done unpacking and I've even done a bit of work.

If I've learned anything here so far, it is patience. When I was in Riyadh before my father and I used to talk about how one of the neat (and irritating) things about living in Saudi was the fact that the language is always an issue - every communication contains within it at least a seed of uncertainty. I always enjoyed that - call for pizza, speak to a man whose first language is probably Tagalog or Tamil but who speaks broken English, and wait to see how much of the order actually gets delivered. You stop taking it seriously after a while, and it becomes a game instead. How long is it going to take me to get my point across, and how long after that to be sure I understand what is going to be done about it? I tend to use this same attitude when navigating the ridiculous corridors of Heathrow, because if I actually pay attention to how long it is taking me to get from one place to another, and how many lines I have to stand in to get there, I will drive myself mad. Much better to make it a game.

Today, as I was in the shower, the lights went off. The internet too - I hadn't realized they were connected but apparently they are. And when I say "off" I mean "off" - it was a little after dawn, but in any case my bathroom has no windows and the shower was in the far corner anyway. There I was, washing my arms, and the next minute I couldn't even SEE those arms. Luckily the water didn't turn off. I finished up my shower in the dark, stumbled over to where I had hung the towel, and escaped into the moderately better lit center of my room. Was I bothered? Eh, not really. I was a bit put out that my speakers, which require an external source of electricity, wouldn't work any more, so I had to depend on the less impressive speakers imbedded in my laptop. I was also entertained that nobody seemed bothered by this - apparently it was planned. I went downstairs looking for juice (juice! juice! the best part about living here is the freshly squeezed orange juice I get every morning except during Ramadan) and instead ran into Abla I and the rest of the staff hanging out in the cafeteria. When I asked what happened to the lights Abla I said she didn't think I'd be awake yet and they'd cut out the electricity to do something with the air conditioning - I found this amusing, since the air conditioning units were still working - and that it would be on soon. Two hours later, it came back on. I ALMOST had to go without music for a while, and that could have gotten ugly. Instead, I just had a bit of a morning adventure. Perhaps I should start keeping candles in my cabinet. Fire! Fire! Ooh, candles might be fun.

I'm also making plans, and elaborate ones, for Christmas. I'm hoping to get enough access to the kitchens to bake some cookies. Then I'll get the girls involved, if I can.

I'm almost looking forward to it! I have a lot of shopping to do, obviously. And lists of other things to do. If I keep up my energy, I will be completely occupied and also happy. Things are looking up!

Another thing that helped with my amazingly improved mood was meeting neat people on the planes. "Eww," says Rachel, "are you one of those people that talks to random people on airplanes!?" No, I am not, but there are exceptions to every rule, and I got lucky. I wouldn't have gotten on the plane in London to go to Jeddah if it hadn't been for the nice man, Mansoor, I met there. He had a rather endearing stutter, and a wife and two kids he'd just left in New Jersey, and reminded me a lot of my dad in his commuting back and forth to see his kids. I had a good time talking to him. And on the Philly-London trip I met Travis, a Main Liner if ever there was one, who entertained me by complaining about the color (white - what is it, the prom??) and condition (covered with circus peanuts!) of the limo he'd hired to take himself to the airport, and by knowing all the places I know. It's always fun to talk to someone from home.

Note the optimism. It's nearly oozing now. It's 10pm and I think I may try to sleep a little more. I have class tomorrow morning, 11am, and homework up the wazoo, but I feel justified in taking it a little easy today. I'm thinking perhaps I'll start living in the library for a couple of hours after school every day. That will serve the dual purpose of forcing me to work AND keeping me out of my room.

I'm trying to avoid stressing. This is supposed to be my stress-free year. I better keep that in mind.

Over and out.