Family

Editor’s Note: I found this almost-written, unposted post in my blogger account today under the date of August 1, 2009. Since I haven’t gotten around to writing about our summer travels yet, I thought I’d post this one. Since it was written, however, the fourth Dewbury baby has been born: Ethan. He’s as adorable and loved as his older siblings.

Living in different country from your family makes visits extra special. The reason we went to Zambia in the first place was to spend some time with my sister Alicia and her family this summer, since they were planning on being there during our entire visit to Canada. She and Ben have 3 incredible children (and a fourth on the way!) who enjoyed showing us all around the various parts of Zambia that they've become so familiar with.

Alex, who decided she would go by the name Alexa while in Zambia, is our oldest niece. She joined the grade three class at the base school where she was thriving. School ran from about 8:30 until 1:00, and she would spend the afternoons doing homework and playing with her friends. On week days, we wouldn't see her from the time we dropped her off at the base until the ride back to the guest house.


We got to see more of Levi, our six-year-old nephew. Although he completed kindergarten in Alberta, it wasn't recommended that he join the grade 1 class at the base. So he would attend preschool on the days that Alicia volunteered there, and the other days he would roam around, hanging out with his adult friends and entertaining himself.

Avery, whom we hadn't seen since she was 6 months old, turned two in Zambia, so it was like we were meeting her for the first time. We loved learning to decipher her words and laughing at her mannerisms. Unfortunately she was suffering from the lingering effects of a parasite, but overall she was happy and bubbly and extremely entertaining!


Some of our most memorable moments in Zambia were related to these kids:

• Having learned that geckos who lose their tails will grow new ones, Levi decided to conduct an experiment. He cut the tail off a gecko with a stick. When we asked him why he did it, he said, "I wanted to see if it would grow another gecko."



• One evening Alicia and Avery were singing. We went through a couple of songs and then the grownups couldn't think of any more songs. So Alicia asked Avery what song she wanted to sing and she suggested "Twinkle". After signing Twinkle, the question was posed again. The response was “Twinkle”. When Alicia said to choose a *different* song, Avery cocked her head to the side, put a finger to her mouth, looked at the ceiling (as if she were thinking really hard) and said, “Ummmmmmmmmm…Twinkle!”



• At least 2 of the kids’ birthdays fell during the time the family was in Zambia. On their birthdays, the people at the guest house made a special cake for them to celebrate. Uncle Darren’s 34th birthday also happened to occur while we were there. Levi found out about this and made Darren a birthday card with his grownup friend Anine – incidentally the only present Darren received this year! Levi also announced at breakfast, “Today is Uncle Darren’s birthday! He’s 43!” and then turned a bright red with embarrassment when we laughed and said, “No, no, he’s only 34!” The embarrassment didn’t last for long because Levi sensed an opportunity and replied, “Uncle Darren, if you tell them it’s your birthday they’ll make you a cake,” not realizing that was something special they only did for kids.

When we weren't enjoying our family, we got to know and tried to help out the other folks who live on the base and work for Foundations for Cross-Cultural Education (FCE). Darren spent most of his days painting with Ben and I helped out at the preschool whenever Alicia was scheduled to work there. We learned about sustainable development in Zambia thorugh our visits at "the farm" and about hospitality from the folks at the guest house. Before meeting up with our family and FCE, Darren and I enjoyed the wild, touristy aspects of Zambia, which was also interesting.

It was definitely a valuable three weeks of our lives, and included the greatest range of experiences we could think of: adventure, education, service and relationship-building.

The making of Sports Roundabout

This past weekend was Hallowe'en, and like good Canadian expatriates, we celebrated it here in Doha. There were more than enough Hallowe'en parties to choose from - there were colleagues of mine in attendance at a minimum of 4 different celebrations around the city over the weekend.

Darren and I chose to participate in a free Hallowe'en bash hosted by some of our colleagues on the rooftop of their accommodation. The event was characterized by a wide veriety of people, great conversation, lots of laughs and most importantly some fantastic costumes.

My favourite costumes were the Doha-specific ones. One couple came dressed as a camel jockey and owner - the owner was driving a cardboard Land Cruiser equipped with working headlights! Another man, my favourite person at the whole party incidentally, came as a local landmark - Sports Roundabout. He was very proud of his creativity and handiwork, and I thought I'd share it with both of my readers. So may I present "The Making of Sports Roundabout."

First of all, let us clarify what exactly a roundabout is. People who have driven in Europe are familiar with the idea, but it's a new concept for many North Americans. According to the website Driving in Ireland,

A roundabout or rotary is a type of road junction (or traffic calming device) at which traffic streams around a central island, after first yielding (giving way) to the circulating traffic. Roundabouts are statistically safer than both traffic circles and traditional intersections, though they do not cope as well with the traffic on motorways or similar fast roads.

See the diagram below:


Ok, so that's a roundabout, but what about Sports Roundabout? Well, in Doha street names are generally not known, so landmarks are used for giving directions. For example, we just moved from an apartment between Al Sadd and Al Nasr streets (2 well-known roads), close to the Red Dragon Chinese Massage place and attached to the Qatar Airways accommodation. Even with that description, our pizza often arrived only after 3 phone calls from the driver asking for more directions.

Many of the roundabouts have features that have become landmarks. Some key ones are Television roundabout (near the Al Jazeera Broadcasting Company), Immigration roundabout (near the Immigration department), Decoration roundabout (near a decorating/furniture store), Mall roundabout (near the mall named "The Mall") and Burger King roundabout (near - you guessed it - a Burger King restaurant). Sports roundabout is named for the tower erected in the middle of it, depicting athletes involved in different sports - a remnant of/tribute to the Asian Games held here 3 years ago.


Ok, enough background. On to the costume!

One day last week after work, Darren went to Toys R Us and picked up some toy cars. Then Friday morning he cut a cardboard box into an oval, measuring it to his waistline with makeshift tools, covered it with black bristol board and painted white lines on it. (There are no pictures of those steps for 2 reasons -- 1. I was not feeling well and decided to nap the sick away, and 2. Darren wasn't really dressed for that part of the project. It was Friday morning, remember!)


Anyway, after the paint had dried, Darren taped the cars in place with masking tape, since our crazy glue had dried up since its last use.



I participated, too - taping the traffic cones to the "construction site" at the back of the roundabout. I think Darren ran out of bristol board, but it's actually not surprising for a random section of the road to be missing around these parts!


And here's the Sports Roundabout, looking so proud of his creation.


At the party everyone knew right away he was a roundabout, but it took some prompting for many people to figure out which one. I thought the knee pads were a dead giveaway!


So there you have it, Hallowe'en Doha-style. Stay tuned next year for the local cultural reference we use as inspiration for Bumpkin's costume!

Baby Questions

I really do want to write posts about our summer adventures as well as our trip to Prague. Really, I do. And I will. But I'm finding myself a little distracted these days. And nauseous. And tired. And pregnant.

That's right: Darren and I are expecting our first child early in April. We're looking forward to the joys and challenges this addition to our family will bring. We're also nervous, but that's normal, right?

We just started sharing the news this past week. It was pretty easy to keep it a secret because I'm not showing. But now that the college is offering us a villa (in place of our current fabulous apartment), and encouraging us to move right away, it seems as though there will be no more secret keeping. That's ok, I guess. People were bound to find out eventually!

Once people find out, they start asking questions. I appreciate the questions, but would rather not have to type answers to them dozens of times (a major pitfall of using the Internet as your main source of communication with family and friends). So I've compiled some answers to the most-asked questions.

• When are you due?
  April 6. Or April 12. I've been told both, but am holding on to the first one. Sooner is better!
  
  


• How are you feeling?
  Well, I can't say that these past few months have been a walk in the park, but I haven't had to take a sick day, either! If I don't eat something every few hours the nausea comes rushing in. Also, I'm having strong negative reactions to Darren's smells (hair gel, deodorant, etc.) Oh, and I'm tired all the time. Usual preganancy stuff.
  
  


• Are you having any cravings?
  Not really, except maybe apple juice. Oh, how I love apple juice! :) Also, I've wanted to drink milk a few times, which I haven't done in years! I do eat a lot of crackers, but not because I crave them, just because they make my tummy feel a little better.
  
  


• Did you know when you were in Canada and not tell anyone?
  Yeah, we did, but we wanted to keep it to ourselves until we had seen a doctor and knew things were looking good. You understand!
  
  


• Will you come home to deliver?
  Nope, we're going to have the baby right here. Our doctor is from Germany and he's a specialist in at-risk pregnancies, which means he should be a true genius at normal pregnancies/deliveries. The hospital I'll deliver at is like a 5-star hotel; much nicer than we'd get in Canada!
  
  


• Will your baby be a Qatari citizen?
  No. The only way to become a Qatari citizen is to be born to a Qatari mom and dad. Actually, our baby will not be a citizen of anywhere until we apply for Canadian citizenship. The process is a little complicated since the nearest Canadian embassy is in Kuwait, but hopefully we'll have a passport for baby Conley before it's time for us to come to Canada for summer vacation (mid-July).
  
  


• Do you have any names picked out?
  Honestly, no, and it's not for lack of trying. For years (long before we seriously considered having children) Darren and I have been watching movie credits in search of names we both like. No success yet. We're calling the baby "Bumpkin" in the meantime.
  
  


• Is it a boy or a girl? Or don't you want to know?
  We don't know, but we do want to. I don't think we'll know until November at the earliest, and then only if Bumpkin cooperates with the doctor and the ultrasound machine. My sister Alicia is wishing for a boy cousin for her newest child, though. I'm not sure which I'd pick if I could.
  
  


• What about work?
  Because of my residency status, I am eligible for up to 1 year of unpaid leave. The plan at this moment is to work as late as I can (probably the last week of March) and then take off 5 1/2 months, returning to work at the beginning of the fall semseter.
  
  


• Are you going to post pictures of your baby bump?
  Well, if I had one, then maybe. I'm not really showing much yet. We'll see.
  


• Who is going to watch the baby when you go back to work?
  We will look into the various options as the time gets closer. There are lots of nannies in Doha, so that's a possibility. There are also nursery programs for children as young as 11 months old. We also have a spare room in our villa if you'd like to come and take care of Bumpkin for a few weeks or months!
  
  


• Did you say villa? I thought you lived in an apartment.
  Families get first dibs at villas, so once we told HR we were expecting, they put us on the top of the list to get a villa. We were thinking we'd move in January or Febrauary, but it looks like they want us out of our apartment in the next few weeks. So we have a lot of packing to do!
  
  


• Can you get baby stuff in Qatar?
  Yes, there are baby shops that stock everything from onesies to strollers to baby on board signs. Everyone says baby things are way more expensive here than at home, though. Fortunately people are always leaving and selling their stuff so we're hoping to score some used baby gear at reasonable prices - espeically the stuff we don't need for a while yet like a high chair.
  
  


• Are you excited?
  Yes, we are. We're also a little overwhelmed, but definitely excited. I suspect both emotions will get more intense as the months roll by.

Year Two

Well, here we are, back in Doha for another year. It's amazing how different year two is from year one. My initial reaction upon returning to Doha was this: it is so nice not to be new.

I listen to the discussions the newcomers have on the bus and it's like déjà vu. They're finding their way around the city, exploring the neighbourhood, setting up their apartments, adjusting to the climate, learning the ins and outs of their new jobs, dealing with residency bureaucracy….

For them, coming to Doha was embarking on a new adventure. For me this year, it was coming home.

Home is good. Home is comforting. Home is familiar. But home is not necessarily exciting. That's the biggest difference I've noticed; things aren't 'new' anymore, and as a result, small things lose some of their appeal.

This is a trade-off I'm willing to make. I'm happy to give up a bit of excitement for a bit of familiarity, at least right now. But already I anticipate the pull to go somewhere else, starting over in a new environment. Settling somewhere completely new is incredibly stressful, but also incredibly satisfying.

But for now we're here in Doha, living our lives in this familiarly foreign environment.

Smalltown Vermont (or Ontario, or Alberta, or...)

This week I read a Jamaica Kincaid's Among Flowers, the story of her seed-collection trip to the Himilaya mountains. I'm not sure why I signed it out of the school library; I care very little about botany and I'd never heard of Ms. Kincaid. But I soon discovered I appreciated and even identified with some of her insights into both the journey and life in general.

I wanted to share with you a short passage from the beginning of the story, before she set out on the challenging journey in the Himalaya. It contains a sense of the perspective I so often lose, but suspect I will experience in full next week when I arrive in Luanshya, Zambia.

Here I was in a village in the foothills of the Himalaya. I could still remember the feeling of living in a village in the mountains of Vermont. I could remember that when I spoke, everybody I knew, everybody I was talking to, understood me quite well. I could remember the school building in my village, a nice, very big red brick building that was properly ventilated and properly heated and had all sots of necessities and comforts, and yet I had found much fault with it and had refused to send my children to school there. I could remember the firehouse just down the hill from where I live and the kind people who volunteer their life to taking care of it and rescuing me if I should need rescuing. I could remember my house with its convenient and fantastic plumbing and water to be had any time I needed it, just by opening the tap in my fantastically equipped kitchen. I could remember my doctor, a man named Henry Lodge, who I often believe exists solely to reassure me that I am not about to drop dead from some imagined catastrophic illness. I could still remember my supermarket, The Price Chopper, overflowing with fruits and vegetables from Florida, California, or Chile, just so I could choose to buy or not buy, strawberries for instance, in summer, winter, any time I liked.
Jamaica Kincaid, Among Flowers, pp. 24-25.

Anticipation and Excitement

The countdown is on! 6 more days and we'll be on our way to visit Alicia and family in Luanshya, Zambia (via Dubai, Johannesburg, and Livingstone). Two weeks after that, we'll come back to Doha to repack and then fly to Ontario to visit our friends and family there for about 4 weeks.

None of this seemed real to me until yesterday. I've finally completed all my thought-consuming work at work; I still have some administrative tasks to take care of, but I've completed my major projects for the semester. Even though Darren and I had been making plans with people in both Zambia and Ontario, until I had submitted my final revisions, I was unable to truly comprehend that we were going. This is always the case with me. I wonder if this is something that is universal among humans, or only humans of a particular neurological or emotional type.

Anyway, now I'm in "getting ready for vacation" mode. Yesterday I got vaccinated against typhoid, and Darren got a yellow fever shot. We also purchased the things Alicia asked us to bring to her in Zambia: diapers and Tostitos. :) I began setting aside things I want packed on the spare room bed. (Darren is the family packer; I just gather the items and he arranges them nicely in the luggage). We're steadily checking things off the to do list. And we're getting excited.

Today at lunch Darren said he was more excited about going to Ontario than Zambia. I had to agree with him. It's not that we are NOT looking forward to visiting Africa (I apologize for the double negative there); we simply can anticipate the Canadian part of our summer more. We know what we're excited to do and we've a list of people we're excited to see once we get to Ontario. Everything about Zambia is unknown, except that my family will be there.

It's hard to get excited without anticipation, and it's hard to anticipate when you have very little sense of what will be. But I know it will be an enriching (and, I hope, life changing) experience which I look forward to sharing upon arrival in Canada.

But for now we continue with the preparations...oh, and a few more days of work.

Slumdog Millionaire vs. Q&A

I just finished reading Q&A by Vikas Swarup. The cover calls it "the inspiration for the major motion picture Slumdog Millionaire". When I first picked up the book I wondered at the wording of that claim; books usually say "Now a major motion picture" or something along those lines. However, in this case, nothing else would have been accurate. Q&A was indeed simply the inspiration for Slumdog Millionaire.

The book had the same feel as the movie but it was a completely different story. Only one of the questions in the game show was the same, and only 4 of the characters introduced in the film showed up in the novel (the game show host, the inspector at the beginning, Maman, and of course, the slumdog himself).

In the book, the main character's name is not Jamal. He has no brother. He does not tell his story to a police officer. He doesn't work as a chai wallah. He does not win a measly 20 000 000 rupees. He doesn't get the signature of a famous actor. He does not fall in love with a girl as a child. And he does not go on the show to get her attention.

However, there is much that the main character does do in the book. He experiences great joy and sadness. He witnesses atrocities. He lives in fear. He travels about India. He works at various jobs. He breaks the law. He shows compassion. And he falls in love.

It was truly a different story, and yet the same one. I think I liked Vikas Swarup's sequence of events better than those of Simon Beaufoy, the screenwriter, but both stories moved me. It's not often that I can't put a book down. It's less often that I mention how much I'm enjoying a book at each chapter break. So, I guess I liked it!

Intersession Update

There are three semesters (is the number 2 inherent in the word semester?) at the school where Darren and I teach: Fall (August-December), Winter (January-April), and Intersession (May-June or July).

Intersession has been an interesting concept for me to wrap my mind around. Because of the reduced number of weeks, many classes have doubled contact hours in half as many weeks. For example, one colleague is teaching two 2-hour physics lectures a week rather than the two 1-hour physics lectures he teaches in the other terms. Some classes have a few fewer weeks and a few more hours per week. For example, another colleague is teaching 5 hours of math per week instead of the 4 she teaches during the other terms, but for 2-3 fewer weeks. And then there are language classes which have the same number of hours per week, the same number of objectives to meet, and 2-3 fewer weeks to do it in. I'm sure glad I don't have to schedule all this stuff!

So needless to say, things are winding down at work for most people. Language, trades and some math classes continue but students in all other classes are finished for the year. In fact, the graduation ceremony is being held tonight! The campus is emptier and a good number of faculty have the time for that leisurely coffee they've been dreaming about all hectic semester.

Things for the Conleys, however, have been a little busier than usual. Darren had his second routine teaching observation this past Sunday. It went well, but it is a time and energy-consuming process nonetheless. He's also dealing with additional paperwork related to course assignments, and his teaching team is trying to get their final exam put together and approved...all while trying to get through all the objectives and content in a shorter time frame than usual.

I am not teaching this semester, but I've been busy too. There are days when I'm working non-stop from the time I get in until the time I leave to catch the bus in the afternoon - except for the half hour when Darren comes over to my office area for lunch. I've been involved in 3 distinct projects this semester, all of which have been interesting in their own way. Then there's the surprise issues that pop up and my attention is focused elsewhere.

I've enjoyed the diversity in my workload this term, but I've also missed interacting with students. In the fall I'm guaranteed to teach at least one class, which will be nice again. I miss "my boys".

But that's still a while away. We have to finish this semester yet, and then enjoy our summer break. Both Darren and I are looking forward to some time visiting family and friends in Zambia and Ontario. I am especially looking forward to not having conversations like the one we had this morning as we left our building to catch the bus:

L: Hey, it feels pretty cool this morning.
D: Yeah, it's probably only in the low 40s.
L: Or maybe even the high 30s! That would be crazy!
D: Let me check. (runs to the thermometer that sits in the shade by the entrance to our building) Yup, it's cool. Only 38 today!
L: (smiles at the ridiculousness - and truth - of those words) Only 38.

Another of the joys of Intersession. :)

Progress

Our school year is quickly coming to a close. That means Darren and I have been in Doha for about 10 months now. In that time we've noticed a huge change in our neighbourhood.

Readers of Darren's blog may recognize this picture as the view from our bedroom window back in August:


Well, the buldozers and jackhammers involved in the demolition of the previous buildings gave way to the rebar delivery trucks and cement pourers of the consturction phase. Slowly our view of the Aspire tower disappeared as floors were added to the apartment buildings across the street.

When we look out our bedroom window now, this is what we see:


This is the case on two other sides of our building as well. I wonder if we'll even recognize the neighbourhood when we return in late August from our 6-week vacation.

This neighbourhood progress reminds me of how very little in life is static. It's natural; societies, organizations, and individuals are meant to develop. I'd say my personal development these past ten months has rivaled that of the neighbourhood, and that is good. There's nothing like a formidable life change to promote the challenging of one's assumptions and worldviews.

While I hope the construction in our neighbourhood comes to a stop relatively soon, I hope I never become content to stop developing.

My Coasters

Back before Christmas I decided that I wanted to make a mosaic...someday. I didn't have a particular design in mind, or even a place where I wanted it to be displayed; I just knew I wanted to make one.

I have an affinity for mosaics. I think they're so beautiful - especially after seing the incredible mosaics at Hagia Sophia in Istanbul and the spectacular mosaic floors in Madaba, Jordan.

Anyway, back when it was still cool enough outside to go for walks, Darren and I made the twenty-minute trek to Ramada signal where we had dinner at Johnny Rockets and then walked across the street to visit the well-known bookstore, Al Jarir. It was in the craft section there that I spotted a simple way to get my feet wet in the art of mosaic making: a coaster kit.

The kit came with everything I would need to make a set of mosaic coasters: plaster powder, a mould, adhesive, grout powder, tiles, brush and instructions. Excited, when I got home I opened up the kit to read the instructions and get inspired. After taking inventory of the kit's contents I realized that there was no grout included. Disappointed, I put the kit and reciept by the front door intending to return to Al Jarir to exchange kits.

Well, life happens and it was a month later when we finally returned to to the bookstore and got a complete kit. Newly excited, the following weekend I set about the fist step of the process: making the coaster moulds out of plaster.

This was a time consuming process because only one coaster could be made at a time and each had to be left for 1 1/2 hours to set before removing it from the mould in order to work on the next one.


So the following weekend I continued the coaster making process by breaking up the tiles. I put each tile between two pieces of cardboard and hammered it. I found it surprisingly satisfying to be so destructive. I tried to contain all the slivers of tile on the plastic sheet I was working on but I suspect one or two got away. Fortunately Sathi, our Sri Lankan cleaner, comes on Mondays so we only walked on treachrous floor for a couple of days.


After the tiles were broken up, they had to be arranged on the coasters and then glued in place.

The "pattern" the instructions told me to follow on the front of the kit box was a random distribution of the three colours of tiles. I tried to arrange the pieces into a pattern or image of some sort but found it to be too difficult with the quantities of each colour I was working with. So I went with the random pattern, as instructed.


After gluing, I cleaned up my mess, placed the coasters on a small dresser to dry and proceeded to leave them there for about two weeks. The next step was grouting them and this required gloves to protect my hands. I had it in my head that I needed some surgical gloves because they would be tight fitting and allow me to get the grout into the crevices between the tile pieces. But it's hard to buy a single pair of surgical gloves, and I certainly have no need for a box of them, so after a few weeks I gave in and used a pair of rubber dish-washing gloves. (Don't worry; we have another pair so the dishes continue to get washed!)

Once the grout had dried a little, I took a sponge and some water and "washed" the coasters, cleaning off excess grout and allowing the stones to show themselves. Then I let them dry for about a week - just to be sure! :)

A more experienced grouter, or a person with a metal file, could have gotten the edges straight, but I am neither of these. Proud of my first attempt at making anything involving plaster and/or grout, I replaced the rubber CNA-Q coasters we had been using in the living room with my very own creations.

Everything was fine until I moved the coaster and realized it was scraping the table. So I dug around in our "everything hardware or fix-it related drawer" for the remnants of the adhesive felt pieces we put on our chair legs to minimize the terrible noise they made when we dragged them across the tile floor. Adding the felt to the bottoms of the coasters seemed to do the trick!

So, at long last we have a set of 4 functional and semi-attractive costers, created by me! It's amazing how much I dragged out the process, but they're finally done. I'm not sure if I'll ever make a real mosaic - this project may have gotten it out of my system. Then again, inspiration may hit someday...who knows!? One thing is for sure: I certainly have more appreciation for mosaic makers!

Jordan, our favourite trip?

After looking at my pictures from Jordan on facebook, a friend asked me if it had been my favourite trip so far. I haven't answered yet because I simply don't know. It's really a difficult question. Each trip we've taken has been good in a different way.

Paris was magical. The weather in Doha was oppressively hot and humid in August and September. Being able to breath in the fresh, French, autumn air and walk around outdoors until our feet hurt each day was just the reprieve we needed. Also, we have so many wonderful memories from our two days with Dan and Marie in Paris; they are our perfect traveling companions!

Turkey was relaxing. This was our first time in another country with a large Arab population, and although there are similarities with Qatar, it was so very different. We loved seeing Istanbul at our own pace - which was slowly! We loved meeting/getting to know better Hannah-Lee and Eric. We loved the fact that we could enjoy a couple of days of snow in Ankara - somthing we thought we had given up for good. We loved walking around the ancient city of Ephesus, which happened to be my first experience with real ruins.

Dubai was business. Enough said.

Kuwait City was refreshing. A city I describe as "a bigger version of Doha," Kuwait was an unlikely place for us to visit. But spending a weekend with Darren's former youth pastor and family was just what we needed this spring. We've been finding it difficult to find like-minded people here, and I was starting to get frustrated about it. Our visit with Steve and -especially- Naomi was encouraging; I determined anew not to give up on finding people to truly connect with here.

Jordan was...well, it was...awe-some.

Like in Paris and Turkey, we enjoyed being outdoors and walking around. The temperature in Jordan varied from place to place (elevation to elevation), but the mornings and evenings were beautifully chilly. We got a good amount of physical exercise walking around Petra and climbing up Dunes in Wadi Rum – the kind of exercise it’s too hot to get outdoors in Doha these days.


Like Kuwait, Jordan is part of the Arab world, but the country is much greener than the Gulf countries - trees are a real treat for us these days! We did get a chance to use our dozen Arabic words/phrases, though, which was another treat. Besides our students, no one we interact with in Doha speaks Arabic. If we said shukran to our waitress, she might understand, but it would be like we were speaking a foreign language to her – which we would be!


Like in Turkey, we experienced antiquity. There are Roman (Byzantine) ruins throughout the country - often right beside or even under present-day buildings. Although I missed experiencing Jerash (heat-induced anxiety got the better of me), I really loved all the mosaics in and around Madaba. The first mosaics I’d ever seen in person were in Istanbul, but the quantity and diversity of the ones in Jordan really impressed me.


So if a visit to Jordan was so much like previous vacations, what inspired the awe?

Petra. The Nabateans created such incredible sculptures; I’m glad I got a chance to see them – especially the Monastery! It took years to complete some of the most ornate facades, and they include symbols from a variety of cultures and religious points of view, in order to welcome others and encourage trade. Interesting, no?



The Dead Sea. I have a really hard time floating. It has something to do with the fact that I hate getting water in my ears so I don’t relax my neck enough. But even tense-necked, I floated like nobody’s business in the Dead Sea! If it had been a few degrees warmer, I think Darren could have spent all day in there. I’m not sure what the effects on his body would have been, but he would have enjoyed himself!



Bible Stories. There's just something about being in the Holy Land that is amazing. Growing up hearing stories of Moses, Abraham, Jacob, Jesus..., and then seeing the sites where these stories might have taken place creates an emotional response. Of course, some of the stuff is cheesy – part of Moses’ spring has been covered with a building and a rock was put in there to symbolize the rock he hit to make the water flow. Just a random rock! But standing on Mount Nebo, overlooking the Promised land, or listening to Darren read fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls, or just seeing rocky hillsides made the Bible stories come to life.

There are lots of places with incredible history, but this was one place whose history I’ve read and studied.

The night we stayed at the Dead Sea, Darren and I spent about half an hour sitting on a bench overlooking the sea. On the other side we saw the lights of Jerusalem. It was right there – Jerusalem! And Jericho, the city whose walls fell down when the trumpets blew was just to the right. Amazing.



Diversity. Not awe-some per se, but wonderful nonetheless. While in Jordan our activities varied from driving through the desert in an old 4x4 jeep to lounging by the pool at a resort. Our meals ranged from take away falafel sandwiches to formal dinner buffets. The temperature fluctuated from "can I borrow your jacket, honey?" in the morning to "where's the nearest shade?" in the afternoon and then back to "I just want to snuggle under the covers!" in the evening. Our sleeping accommodations ranged from a tent in the desert to a 5-star suite. The landscape varied from sand to rocky mountains with sparce greenery to manicured gardens. It's hard not to enjoy yourself when every day is different from the last!



Unlike all our previous trips, we didn't arrange the vacation with anyone else. I wasn't sure whether this would be a positive change or not, since the highlights of previous trips included time spent with friends. However, it was nice to be just the two of us. And we did end up having drinks with a group of colleagues in Amman, and lunch with another colleague and his girlfriend in Petra. Also, we met some interesting characters along the way, like our driver Amer, and Abu Fadi the gentleman who served us tea at one of the mosaic sites near Mount Nebo.



So, yes, I certainly enjoyed our visit to Jordan. Was it my favourite trip? That's really hard to say, but it might have been. While we were there Darren adn I were already talking about the places we'd like to see next time we're in Jordan. That will be a longer trip in which we combine parts of Syria, Israel, and maybe even Egypt. But for now we will be thankful to have had this experience and regularly refer to our pictures to remember our time in Jordan.

Life as a non-sweat-er

I don't sweat. I never have. In fact, I can't.

“You’re so lucky!” is the initial reaction I get from almost everyone, especially those who perspire profusely. But once the full consequences of this reality sink in, jealousy often changes to pity. Or at least a look that seems to say, “Man, you're weird.”

Sweating is the body's major means of thermoregulation. Simply put, sweat cools a person down. So what happens when one, such as myself, lacks the ability to sweat? Well, simply put, one overheats and one faints.

My mother and at least one of my sisters are in a similar predicament. Fortunately, however, they don't have the same kind of un-sweat-related stories to tell as I do.

My first memory of heat-induced fainting happened in grade 5 at the track and field meet. I was in line waiting for my turn to compete in high jump. Not feeling well, I asked the supervising teacher if I could go sit down inside. He said ok and as I walked away my legs kind gave way. I must have been stumbling about because the teacher noticed and ran up to me in time to catch me as I fell. A lady from the refreshment stand brought me some cold orange drink and I sat on the cool concrete in the school building. It wasn't too long until I was feeling better but I opted not to participate in any more events that day. I still came home with the same award I would have if I had finished all the events: a purple participation ribbon.

The next incident occurred when I was 14 years old in Thailand. I was walking in a crowded market place in Chiang Mai in the middle of the day with my father. I started to feel light headed and my vision was cutting in and out. I lost my balance and stumbled into a stand selling watches. I heard someone yelling at me from somewhere off in the distance, but I sure didn't care. Somehow my dad dragged me into an air conditioned Burger King and plopped me down on a cool bench. While he was getting a Pepsi from the counter I lost control of my bladder - the most embarrassing thing I could think of at the time. After about twenty minutes I was able to walk again and dad and I headed back to our guest house, after a quick wash up in the bathroom.

In the summer of 2003 I volunteered with an organization in Bosnia teaching English. At the end of our time there, the team traveled to the sea to spend a few days relaxing and regrouping before heading home. We took a bus with no A/C and whose windows didn't seem to open. I was fine for a while but hours of sitting on a warm bus with no sweat to cool myself down took its toll. When the bus stopped, the group I was traveling with headed left but I stumbled to the right, in the direction of what looked like a bathroom. I ignored the lady who was asking for money to use the facilities and almost fell face first in the sink. I wet my hands, face, neck, feet...whatever I though would help. It cooled me down enough to make it to the hotel where I rested for the remainder of the day while my friends headed to town to do some souvenir shopping.

Unfortunately the stories don’t end there. One day in the spring of 2005 while Darren and I were dating I got a terrible sunburn, some of the effects of which can still be seen today. Not fully realizing the extent of the burn and the heat it caused to build up inside my body, that evening we went out to see Darren's buddy's comedy show. Despite the A/C and the ice from Darren's drink I was melting on my skin, I was hot. When the show was over I begged Darren to take me home although he wanted to stay and chat with his friends. On the way back to the car, -you guessed it- I passed out from overheating. The incident happened to occur in front of a Lebanese restaurant, so Darren dragged me inside. The hostess got me some cold water, some of which I drank and some of which was poured on my head. Just as before, it wasn't long until we were on our way again.

Then on our honeymoon in the Dominican Republic, Darren and I went on a jungle safari where we stopped at a traditional home. It was beautiful but hot inside. As the guide was explaining the way the people who lived there would have made bread and ironed their clothes I could feel myself getting faint. I excused myself and went and sat outside where there was a breeze. But it was too late and the blackness overtook me. This time, however, Darren knew what to do: a little water on my head and I was (almost) as good as new.

There was another small incident at a Conley family picnic. A group of us were playing volleyball. Apparently I was too busy attempting not to embarrass myself or frustrate the real volleyball players with my lack of skill to notice how hot I was getting. But once I realized the imminent danger I was putting myself in, I found a nearby bench under the shade of a tree with a cool breeze blowing and lay down until I was myself again.

I wish that were the last incident. We arrived in Doha around midnight on August 13, 2008. The next day we were awakened early and taken to the college to gather our paperwork and then bussed to a medical facility for blood work. The men and women have separate facilities for the medicals, and although we took separate transportation to these facilities, we had to wait for each other to go to the next place for blood typing. The men took a very long time and the women waited for them in the bus, which was air conditioned but only to the extent a stationary vehicle can be. Then we were transported elsewhere for blood typing and again waited on the packed bus. While I didn’t ever lose consciousness, by the time we arrived back at the college for lunch, I was too hot and weak to do anything but wet my face with the lukewarm tap water in the washroom and sit on the concrete floor to try to cool down. Thankfully the administrator took pity on me and sent me to the hotel to sleep while Darren checked out our accommodation and went shopping for household necessities.

That brings us to the present.

Needless to say, I have to be careful when and where I go in the heat. But I'm lucky that the problem of overheating which I face is easily overcome, with minimal side effects (lingering headache, fatigue...no big deal). I’m also lucky that it’s something that can be easily treated and even prevented, provided I’m surrounded by people who work with me (giving me water, finding me shade) rather than against me (panicking, gathering around).

Reading through the incidents it’s easy to see how I’ve learned to deal with the situation. My body warns me before it passes out (usually I bloat up, start to itch, and turn red), and I’ve learned to take precautions such as carrying water with me wherever I go and avoiding extremely hot situations.

I certainly do not want to be foolish and put myself in situations where fainting is inevitable. On the other hand, I do not want to live in fear or miss out on experiences because I might get too hot.

I'm still working on this balance. On our first full day in Jordan, Darren and I had a city tour of Amman and then we were taken to the nearby city of Jerash to see the Roman ruins there. It was cold in the morning - I was wearing the warmest clothes I had brought. But when we arrived at Jerash it was significantly warmer (partly due to the lower altitude, and partly because the sun had come out). Walking from the parking lot to the entrance (Hadrian's gate - which is quite magnificent) just about did me in. My body was flashing me some of its warning signs, so rather than take the 2-hour guided walking tour of the unshaded ruins, I opted to sit in the car with the A/C on and read my book/doze. I made the right decision, but every now and then I second guess myself, afraid that I'm giving in to fear. (ironic, no?)

Two days later was THE day: Petra. Because of my experience at Jerash (and all the previous heat-caused incidents), I was afraid. But it turned out that for the entire tour of the main street I was actually cold. I was elated! I kept saying to Darren, “I’m freezing; isn’t that great!?”

We decided around 10:00 to climb the 1000 + stairs to the Monastery which was supposed to be breathtaking. I was fine for a while until the breeze quit and the sun moved higher in the sky, making the shade slowly disappear. All of a sudden I got scared. Thoughts such as, “What if I get too hot? What if I pass out? How will I get back down to ‘civilization’? This path is too narrow and steep for Darren to carry me down safely. How could I be so foolish to think I could climb this mountain?” went screaming through my head. But we proceeded, with caution. More than once I asked Daren to stop in a shady spot for me to sit a while. I dumped almost an entire bottle of water on myself on the way up. And at least twice I announced that I couldn't go any farther. But he persuaded me to continue, stopping whenever I felt I needed to.

I'm proud to report that I did make it to the top, where there was a cool breeze and plenty of shade. The sand that hadn’t seen the sun yet that day was cold and I buried my feet in it (feet are a good temperature regulator). While Darren ran around taking pictures of the site, I stood in the shade, sand up to my ankles, rejoicing to myself and being thankful. Although it sounds like nothing much, it was a big victory for me. I need to have positive experiences where I managed to do something ‘normal’ despite my abnormal heat sensitivities so that I have something to cling to next time – especially if I never, ever sweat.

Oh, and yes, the view was breathtaking:

Tourists and Tour Guides

Well, another semester has been put to bed. That's two down, seven to go until the end of my contract...not that I'm counting!

These last couple of weeks have been very laid back around the college. After administering and marking final exams, and taking care of all the administrative tasks that accompany the end of a school term, there was little work pressing. I did have some tweaking to do on my semester-long projects, and Darren has been meeting with his teammates for next semester, but we were able to spend a good deal of time with his parents and still get everything work-related accomplished.

Speaking of Darren's parents, we sent them off to the airport last night with a trustworthy driver. They should be arriving home in about 5 hours' time, I think. We had a very busy, very fun-filled week with them. A trip to the camel races, desert safari, overnight in a Bedouin camp, visit to a family farm, BBQ with Darren's boot camp crew, silk painting class, campus visit and 'job interview' for Doug, henna application, visit to the Islamic Museum, browsing at the Old Souq, trip to the Oryx sanctuary...it's hard to believe we fit it all in! We now feel like seasoned tour guides and we're ready to show our next guests around our city.

But first things first - Darren and I are heading to Jordan tomorrow for a week. Our private tour is booked and paid for and all we have to do is pack our bags. We've heard nothing but good things about Jordan and we're really looking forward to seeing Petra, sleeping overnight in Wadi Rum, and swimming in the Dead Sea. I don't know if we'll get a chance to head up to Mt. Nebo or not (it's not on our current itinerary) but I'm going to ask about it when we arrive in Amman.

When we get back we'll have a day to recover and do laundry before jumping into the Intersession. We're at work from May 3-July 14 before we get a break for the summer. It's getting hot here, so the coming months are sure to be a challenging ones. But I think we'll be up for it - after all, we will have just had a week of being tourists after a week of being tour guides.

Visit to a family farm

We're currently entertaining Darren's parents, whom two or our friends here are affectionately calling Momma C and Papa C. They've been here 4 days now, and we've already been able to do some things that few people who live in Doha get a chance to do, the most interesting of which was visit a Qatari farm/home.

There is a clear distinction between national and expatriot here. It's not that one doesn't accept the other, it's more like that's just the way it is. Qataris are very friendly and hospitable, but it's hard to get to know them well enough to be invited into their sphere. Darren's student was kind enough to invite him (and us with him) to visit their home. It was a lovely experience.

Among the highlights of the night were:

1. drinking fresh camel's milk - right from the udder!

2. enjoying a delicious home cooked meal: rice and killed-that-day lamb



3. talking with Darren's students' mother in the yard, where the men were not allowed (nor were cameras!)



It was a night to remember, and hopefully one that can be repeated. As we were leaving the mother made sure we knew we were welcome anytime. And we told them we'd gladly welcome them in our homes in Canada.

Although the invitations were genuine, we'll likely never see each other again. But I can guarantee you 'Momma and Papa C' won't soon forget the visit to the farm.

Judging Diving

The third weekend in March the FINA diving world series came to Doha. Neither Darren nor I had ever seen a diving competition so we decided to check it out. Of course it didn't hurt that admission was free!

I was extremely impressed with the athletes’ skill, determination, concentration, muscle structure…they’re amazing people! And just like when the WTA tour came to Doha, it was exciting to witness the competition. But the experience left a slight twinge of uneasiness within me.

Some sports are very objective: the first person to cross the finish line is the winner. But with judged sports, one can never be 100% sure that the winner is deserving of the honour.

Throughout the competition, Darren was trying to get some cool shots of the divers in mid air. After each dive was complete, as we awaited the scores to be announced, we would look at the pictures he had snapped. On a number of occasions we observed problems with synchronization or position that seemed to escape the notice of the multiple judges. Likewise, there were excellent dives, according to Darren’s camera, which were scored poorly.

I do not claim to be an expert in this area, and I’m not saying there definitely was unfair judging going on. But it does makes me wonder once again about the validity of judged sporting competitions, as well as the power of suggestion. Are judges truly blinded to errors when the competitor is the Olympic gold medalist? Or are they unable to see a perfect dive if the diver is only the 10th best in the world?

But all in all it was a great evening. And Darren did end up with some pretty neat shots:

I think it's cool how they're just suspended there in the air

Cubans perfectly in synch

Preparing for an armstand dive - amazing!

Just relaxin'! :)