Yeeowch

Apparently, I hurt my back working out yesterday – ironic, because I spent more of yesterday just sitting on my butt than any other day in recent memory. But my back is killing me right now. So very uncomfortable. I’ve always been fairly active, and am certainly no stranger to working out, but clearly my three-month lapse in gym time has taken its toll – what a rookie mistake! Oh, how I would just like to be back in my room, propping something up on pillows. (And given how much I know I’m going to be seeing of the inside of that room without even trying, well – that says something.) It’s that kind of “shooting up and down my spine, pulsating through my lower back, and traveling down the backs of my legs” kind of pain. I’m really excited about it. Clearly, I overdid it on the Pilates. And working out again this morning when my back was already sore wasn’t that smart, either.

I e-mailed TL about Gifty, and he said that he gave another female colleague, who was here when I was here and left a week after me, a ring when she left as well – so not likely that there’s much to worry about on that front. He also said that he used to bring fruit to the old team leader – but that he doesn’t with TL because he’s kind of laid down the law on that sort of thing. However, TL said that I should feel free to tell him that the only gift I would like from him is his hard work on the project, because it will benefit all of us. I don’t think I’ll be able to get that across on my own, to be honest, but after tomorrow, he’ll be gone for the holidays until after TL has returned, so that situation may also be resolved. (Oh, and he just brought me something for lunch. Now how on earth do you say “thanks for the yummy Middle Eastern bread and grilled fish, but no thanks” without being rude and wasting a perfectly good lunch, especially when you’re really hungry but don’t want to go to lunch alone because you’re tired, don’t speak Arabic, and are at the bottom of the “being stared at tolerance” bell curve? That’s right – you don’t.)

Have I mentioned enough times yet that I don’t like having to worry about these kinds of things? Because I don’t.

But I don’t want to get too repetitive, either. (Too late, I know.)

I’m listening to U2 now – and I’m feeling less irritated about the fact that most people didn’t stroll in until 10:30 or later this morning. Actually, I’m not, but there’s nothing to be done about it. TL knows about it, and I’ve told people that I’ve seen that they need to be here on time. But I think it says something about what people think of me – or at least the level of respect that I command around here. Hooray.

Grand Plans

I did essentially nothing yesterday. Okay, that’s not true – I took a three hour nap in the middle of the day, and tried not to spend the entire remainder of my time lying prone in bed. I did eventually squeeze a workout into my packed schedule toward the end of the day, but that was about it. Oh, and I worked on editing a horrendously translated document that was originally in Chinese, but still isn’t quite in “English”, per se. So much for all that motivation. (But on the bright side, E! didn’t run “The Top 101 Sexiest Celebrity Bodies” even once yesterday, so that was progress.)

My “not answering the phone” tactic seems to have worked for the time being – no stalker-esque phone calls or text messages yesterday. Perhaps he found someone else to torment. Either way, I was glad for the respite, particularly since yesterday’s plans were best summarized by the “Do Not Disturb” sign on my door. Oh, and I saw a little-known, but much loved (at least by my roommates, present and former) movie called “Super Troopers” on TV last night, so that was a nice diversion. It’s about the Vermont State Highway Patrol, and shenanigans abound. I also did laundry, meaning that I washed my clothes in the bathroom sink and hung them up to dry. Advantages of living in a super-arid climate? My clothes were dry by morning. Disadvantages? The incredibly dry eyes that I wake up with most days. Thank goodness for the boatload of artificial tears that my mom stocked me up with.

As if in retaliation for my claims that I seem to be doing okay with jetlag, my body decided that it was wakey-wakey time around 2:30 this morning. I had no shot of getting back to sleep, despite lying there for close to an hour. And despite taking a Benadryl before I went to sleep a little before 10 pm last night. S’okay, though, I expected that it would take more than two days to adjust. Plus, it gave me the chance to squeeze another workout in this morning, to make up for my slothful existence of late.

So, now I’m sitting here, listening to some angry “grr” music (The Foo Fighters – although their new album, which I bought just before leaving, wouldn’t play properly on my computer. If the same thing happens with my CD player, there will be issues. Guess I’ll find out tonight.) It’s actually some good wake-up music, although I’ve been awake for hours.

Once again, the office is a ghost town this morning. It’s fine if I’m the first one here when I get here at 7:50 am. But I’ll take a stroll around the office around 9 and see if anyone, besides the girl who cleans the office, has decided to grace me with their presence. Given that our internet isn’t working (well, it stopped working just about the time I went to read the 50-some messages I have waiting for me), the IT guy had better get here before too long. Being so far away from everything kind of creates a reluctant dependence on the internet for me.

Eid starts next week, it’s a week-long Muslim holiday, and it means that essentially everything will be shut down. Our driver, who is very nice, has said that it’s still no problem for him to bring me to the office each day, but if e-mail craps out during this time…well, expect some radio silence. I actually know absolutely nothing about Eid, so perhaps I should find out a little more about it. I suppose I can get to that as soon as my internet connection comes back…

Well, I know that Gifty is here, because he just brought me some kiwis. Very nice of him, once again, but I think I need to ask TL how to handle this, if it’s inappropriate, etc., since I think it is. Of course, since he told me that it would probably be okay for me to wear a skirt to a meeting (what?????? There is NO WAY I would do that here.), I think he may not be totally clued in to what it’s like to be me here – surprising, since he’s from a Muslim country, although his country of origin is considerably more liberal. Ah, the gender-relations minefield.

Samanabastich

My cell phone has been ringing off the hook the past few days with harassing phone calls. I don’t speak Arabic, and there’s no man around to put the fear into whoever is calling, but it’s probably like what happened in Pakistan. Some random guy finds a number where an English-speaking woman answers (Lord only knows how they find them, apparently people have a lot of time on their hands, or it’s just a lucky discovery for them). Then the phone calls start, and they continue. I’ve gotten close to 15 or more calls since the day before yesterday, and have stopped answering the phone when I see a number that isn’t someone I know, or I’ll pick up and set the phone down without saying anything, figuring that if they want to waste their money talking to air, that’s their business. At one point, I picked up, said “hello?” because I wasn’t thinking, and heard “Hello?” followed by something in Arabic, and “I love you!” I hung up when he was partway through those three magic words. (Funny, it’s not quite so magical when it’s coming from some freak who spends his evenings harassing you.) I also got a text message from said freak that said “What are you from?” He should know right off the bat that it’s never going to work if he insists on insulting my mother… Anyway, I actually talked to Mom about it yesterday and she was, as always, good to talk to. But this is not an auspicious way to begin my two months here, and if it continues, I’m getting my cell number changed. I don’t think that it’s someone who is specifically focused on me, personally – I don’t think he has a clue who I actually am, I’m just the unlucky voice on the other end of the phone, so it’s just as likely to happen with a new cell number. That doesn’t, however, make it any better.

Wow, I wish I could spend all my time here, forever and ever.

On a different note, something that I’ve noticed in hotel rooms in the Middle East (as a general rule, not that I’ve had a wide sample), is that they all come equipped with a little sticker somewhere in the room, that has an arrow on it pointing toward Mecca. I suppose that makes sense for a Muslim country, since people are supposed to pray five times per day, always facing Mecca, but it’s interesting, nonetheless. It actually took me a while to figure out what the sticker was, I don’t think it occurred to me last time I was here.

It’s Friday, so it’s my day off, although I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m going to hit the ladies’ gym later today to get some time out of my room and some time off my rear end. However, this is why I don’t mind working 6 days per week – my time off is basically time staring at the four walls of my hotel room. It’s one thing to be a slug by choice, which is something I occasionally aspire to and rarely have time for at home, but it’s a whole other thing to be a slug because it’s your only option. Okay, that’s enough self-pity for one day – I’m going to either read a book, work, or workout. Or maybe watch one of my DVDs. Because E! has been re-running “The Top 101 Sexiest Celebrity Bodies” since I was here last time, and watching it once was more than enough – so not so much with the TV today.

Awkward, Much?

So, there’s a guy here in the office, seems nice enough, but I think he’s crossing a line of propriety. Before I left, he gave me a little silver ring as a gift – I said thank you, but thought it was strange. Yesterday, he brought in some tea for me (I don’t actually drink tea, but I thanked him anyway – and it’s not something he’s supposed to do around here – not that I’m really certain of what he *does* do, mind you), and today he came in with a bag of oranges for me. I said “thank you, that’s very kind”, but I think I’m also going to have to tell him that it’s not appropriate for him to give me gifts. But he barely speaks English, and doing this with an interpreter would be awkward as all get out.

It’s possible that he’s just being nice, but given the rules about gender interactions in this part of the world, I think that it’s also kind of sketchy, whether it’s intended to be or not. He seems nice enough, but this isn’t right. Now, how to broach the subject. Oy. This is one of the reasons why I don’t want to be marooned here by myself (and despite assurances that it won’t happen, it wouldn’t surprise me if it did), navigating this kind of thing is weird for me. In the US, I might think that whoever was doing the gift giving was either being nice or had a bit of a crush, but it wouldn’t really have any larger meaning beyond that. Here…well, the rules are different.

Once again, I marvel at the wisdom of whoever thought it would be a good idea for me to come here.

Back to work…

Another Morning in Yemen

I think I’m doing better with jetlag this time, slowly but surely. I managed to (mostly) make it to a decent bedtime last night, and woke up around 5:30 this morning. Sure, that’s a lot earlier than I would voluntarily be up, but really – beats the heck out of sitting up, wide awake, at 3 am. And I’ve logged plenty of time doing just that. Not that it won’t happen in the days to come, since it can take up to a good week or two to get fully adjusted, but I’m happy to be on the semi-right track. (Plus, I've got Benadryl to knock me out if it gets to that.)

Since I’m feeling somewhat portly after the holidays, after not running for a while because of my knee problems, and because of generally not being able to regularly access a gym since September, I came to Yemen equipped with all kinds of exercise stuff, and a determination to get off my rear end – I mean, come on – it’s not like I have anything else to do with my free time, right? So I took advantage of my 5:30 wake up and had a brief workout before hopping in the shower (physical activity is also supposed to help with jetlag, BTW). I was actually running a bit ahead of schedule, which felt like a miracle of Biblical proportions (well, not quite, but close), and I went outside at the appropriate time to wait for my driver. Who was running late. (Although, I think my watch was really fast – I’ve since re-adjusted it a smidge.) So I called him, and he said that he was in town, and on his way. Then he calls me a few minutes later, to say he can’t make it up the road.

Let me back up for a second here – I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but part of the road leading up to the hotel, which is very steep, and very twisty-turn-y, is completely destroyed in one section. I think they’re building something nearby which may account for part of the destruction, but this one corner is seriously torn up. To the point where, on occasion, our car can’t make it up because he doesn’t have the clearance to do so. Furthermore, the road is kind of eroding/collapsing, and little seems to be done about it, at least little which actually has any lasting impact, which gives me pause. So this morning, L (the driver) couldn’t make it up. The hotel’s responsibility is to then find a way to get me down to him. They inform me, however, that the hotel van is out and about, so can I wait? I explain that, no, I can’t because I’m already late for work. So they then ask one of the drivers who is waiting around for a tour group if he’ll take me, which he does. (Although, I think it may still be considered inappropriate for them to chuck me in a car with a strange man – whatever, I got to my car.) We headed off for the office, with me trying to shake my supreme irritation at the morning’s events. Then I walk up to the office, very aware of being stared at by all the men I have to walk past and the conversations that stop dead so people can gape as I pass by, and just generally not feeling too thrilled with being here – and then I walk into the office, to find that no one, except the woman who cleans it, is here. So I may have to chat with TL about this, since we have a lot of work to do, and we need people to actually do their jobs, not just wander in and out as they choose. (I’m so not used to being a “crack the whip” type, but this is ridiculous.)

So, it’s been a frustrating morning. Although, since we *do* have work to do, perhaps I’d best get to it, instead of bitching about how other people aren’t doing their jobs, yes?

To be a little more positive, the weather here continues to be beautiful, and there are several tour groups at the hotel, so it’s a bit livelier. I’ve got some pictures of friends and family up in my hotel room so that it doesn’t feel quite so sterile and generic, and I am hoping to keep busy enough for the next two months to go somewhat quickly. And hopefully, I’ll have something more interesting to write about in those two months. If I wanted to bitch about commuting, I could write about that from home, now couldn’t I?

Anyway, only 49 days until I get to come home! (Is it healthy to start a countdown this far out? Hmm…too late, I suppose.)

Back Again

I just got back to the office in Taiz a short while ago, and am busy sorting through the deluge of e-mails that are here for my reading pleasure. It’s fine, though, and I admit that I was slacking over my time at home – the result of feeling pretty much wiped out, to tell you the truth. Not that I’m fully alive and kicking just yet, but I should be able to re-adjust. Once TL gets back, I have a feeling that it’s going to be very hard-core nose-to-the-grindstone type stuff, so I actually need to start the hard-core, nose-to-the-grindstone stuff now, so that the memory of my slacking can become a faint one. Two weeks at home (give or take a few days) just didn’t feel like it was nearly long enough, it really does feel like I never really left. However, that 12+ hour flight from New York to Dubai sure helps to remind me that I did, in fact, leave. A 2-day return trip will do that.

The two weeks at home were really great, though. Basically jam-packed with as many family and friends as I could see. Post-Thanksgiving was a lot of fun, as it always is, it was great to go to my favorite restaurants in DC, to find a new favorite place with Stef, see my favorite people, spend time sleeping in my own absurdly comfortable bed, it was great to be back at church for a few weeks, including Christmas Eve, and just generally be a part of the things that I do when I’m not off in Absurdistan. (A generalized term for some of the places I’ve been sent or could be sent.) We might bid on another project here in Yemen (in Taiz, as a matter of fact), but it would be a US government project, meaning that if I end up being associated with it (not that I’m jumping at the – the only chance I’m jumping at is the chance to spend some time at home. Which is a long way off, so it’s best if I don’t think about that now.), my circumstances are likely to be far better than they are at present. Danger pay, for example, would be nice, and is something that the US government feels we should get for being here. Not so much with the folks financing this current project, despite the whole “kidnapping” thing. But enough about that. Suffice it to say that I’m not exactly opposed to it, I must say.

If you have the chance to fly Emirates Airlines, I very much recommend it. It’s just so very nice, and the level of service just beats the pants off of Yemenia. Plus, the ticket was a lot less expensive, so much as I’d be all about supporting the state airline, it doesn’t make financial sense for the project anyway. I left Dulles on Monday to head up to New York, where I was going to meet some friends for dinner as a result of an intentionally long layover. The guy checking me in at the United counter in Dulles was unspeakably rude, and generally made me want to strangle him, but since all of my things arrived here unmolested, I’ll let it go. After a lovely dinner and some good hanging out time, my friends brought me back to JFK, where I stopped by the Emirates counter to get my boarding pass. Much to my delight, I have bulkhead seats reserved for each leg of my trip. As someone who is quite tall, leg room is essential, so the bulkhead seat is just heaven. Not that the leg room is terribly lacking on Emirates anyway, even in economy, they’re pretty good about that.

I was sitting next to a nice woman, who was about my age, on the flight from New York to Dubai. Fortunately, she was just the appropriate level of chatty – and most of that wasn’t even until the end of the flight anyway. Now, I can talk to a brick wall, and I’m as talkative as the next person, if not more so. However, on a really long flight, I just want to watch movies, read books, and sleep. Not so much with the Chatty Cathy routine. She was headed to Pakistan because her husband’s wife was sick. I’m pretty sure that’s what she said, and it certainly had me thinking “whadafa??”. But I decided to just gloss over that part – she and her husband live in southern Vermont, and I suppose wife #1 lives in Islamabad. It’s not unusual for men in Pakistan to have more than one wife, but it’s not exactly uber-commonplace, either. I knew a woman in Pakistan who was a few years younger than me, whose husband was probably about my dad’s age – needless to say, she wasn’t wife #1. Wife #1 lived in Lahore or somewhere like that. But I digress.

We had a nice little chat, and then she had to dash for her connecting flight. I, however, had to go find my way to the hotel room that Emirates had booked me for the night, since I arrived at 9 pm, and my connecting flight didn’t leave for 10 hours. After finding the correct desk, I was told that I didn’t have a reservation. Fortunately, I had a little piece of paper with me that said, yes, I did have a reservation, confirmed by the airline. After some hemming and hawing, and messaging to New York, they gave me my voucher and 24-hour visa, and I made my way through immigration. I’ll see what I can do to make sure this doesn’t happen on the way back, because I could have slept for an extra hour instead of trying to figure out all of that silliness. However, I still got my room, got a chance to sleep for a few hours in an actual bed, and most importantly, a chance to have a nice hot shower before getting back on another airplane. It’s the little things that you treasure, no?

I was seated next to a nice British man who works for Halliburton in Sana’a, we chatted on and off through our 2 ½ hour flight from Dubai into Yemen. I was glad to have a flight that arrived in the daytime, as you cross some strikingly beautiful country. The main thing between Dubai and Sana’a is the Ar-Rub Al-Khali desert. Leaving Dubai, you see these massive furrows of sand, pitted by the wind, with smooth expanses in between, all interlocking to form an enormous honeycomb pattern. As you move closer to Sana’a, it’s like looking at the ocean in freeze-frame, waves of sand pushed along by the desert winds. Occasionally, you’ll see the odd and very lonely road, but it’s mostly uninhabited, and uninhabitable. Since the sand reflects the sunlight, as you look off toward the horizon, the desert looks like it stretches out forever with no end in sight. The sand becomes silvery white and blends into the horizon, giving the oddest impression of the land becoming the sky, or vice versa. Yemen is very mountainous, so as you approach it, you can see black rock pushing through the sand, forming small hills and peaks. All of a sudden, the mountains erupt out of the desert, and you can tell you’re in Yemen. Even from 31,000 feet, you can see the terraced agriculture, and some cities attempting to establish themselves in the middle of massive, rocky peaks.

We landed, and immigration and customs were a breeze as before, although they still only approved my visa for one month, despite me saying I’ll need to be here for two. I suppose we’ll figure that out later, but I’ll ask TL to help when he gets back here. I don’t really feel like giving someone my passport to drive it to Sana’a and back for a month extension. Mostly, I just don’t like giving my passport to people for any reason.

My driver was waiting for me at the airport, and he had brought his wife with him. She seems quite nice and apparently wanted to meet me, but speaks virtually no English, so I used the drive to mostly read and sleep. I wasn’t feeling all that chatty, and the fatigue was really setting in. After checking in, I came to the office, where I’m writing this now. The office was strangely bereft of staff when I arrived – I have a feeling that will change now that everyone knows I’m back. Not that I’m so terribly important, but they probably don’t want any of it to get back to TL – fair enough, I wouldn’t want to cross him, either.

So that’s the scoop. I’m back, it hasn’t really sunk in that I’m here for a couple of months, but I think it will be easier to handle after a while, once I’ve had time to adjust. It’s not that it’s particularly hard to handle, at least not on a micro level, if that makes any sense. It’s just…well, as I’ve said many, many times recently, it’s just a combination of things – not wanting to be away from home, not particularly wanting to be here (although now that I’m here, it’s a little easier to work on my attitude and think about appreciating the unique opportunity I have. At home, I was just surrounded by things I didn’t want to leave), and just generally feeling burned out. But I’m taking a week off when I get back from here, so that will be really nice.

For the time being, however, I’m here in Yemen. My mobile is now +967-7111-81433, in case anyone wants to spend a small fortune to say howdy. (Depending on your long distance plan, I suppose.) This is a change from the previous number, they added that extra "1". More later, I’m off for the day – I think making it to 5 pm is quite the accomplishment, if I do say so.