Kittens!

My actual postings this week have been far fewer than my intended ones, but it's been a busy week.  I will spend some time in the next few days detailing some of my adventures; there have been a lot of work functions that have literally kept me out all hours, so I haven't had time to write. 

The big news is that I am once again a pet owner.  Stray cats are unfortunately endemic in the Kingdom.  A colleague of mine, the local cat rescue guru, introduced me to a local expat woman who has taken in literally hundreds of strays over time.  She spays and neuters them all, gets them vet care, feeds and cares for them, and tries to find good homes.  She's quite amazing.  There were dozens of beautiful cats to choose from, but I fell in love with a pair of adolescent kittens.  These two cats came in at different times but were hand-raised in the house and have become best friends.  One is a medium-hair white male with a gray V on his head; the other is a long-hair gray male with deep amber eyes.  They are roughly 6 months and 8 months old, respectively.  I took them to the vet last night and got a pronouncement of good health, aside from the expected ear mites. 

These two little guys are cuddly, playful, affectionate, and curious.  Everything cats should be.  They do not, however, have names yet.  I have spent almost a week scouring baby name sites, newspapers, film synopses, and books, and picking the brains of friends, family, and colleagues, but nothing quite works.  Everyone laughs at me, but the right names will come along.  I've tried out and discarded literally hundreds of names for each of them.  The vet laughed but agreed that I didn't need to rush it. 

So, I have two balls of fur to come home to every day.  They do not come close to replacing Hattie, but they represent a new chapter of life, and I love and adore them.  I thought that having them would help with the grieving process, but it's actually set me back a bit.  It may have been a bit soon, but I wouldn't trade these little guys for anything.  At least now if I need to cry, I can hug a kitten while doing it.  They have adapted to life in the apartment; they even have their own room.   The white one likes to hang out in the bathtub, and the gray one has claimed the top of the refrigerator.  It's nice to have these bundles of energy to play with.

I'm off to bed after a long, full day.  I have friends coming in from another Saudi city for the weekend (which starts after work tomorrow), so it'll be a lot of fun to hang out, catch up, go to the beach, and see the sights.  I love three-day weekends!

Balad and Buffet

Last weekend's adventure in Balad, a district in Jeddah containing the old city, was quite an interesting one.  This is where the streets are narrow and unpaved, the stores and kiosks spill out onto the street and the sellers call out as you pass, bags and boxes are brimming with fragrant spices and herbs, the buildings are old, and there's a hub of activity as people go about their daily shopping.  Amazingly, things were open in the late afternoon on a Friday, probably because it's the equivalent of Sunday, and we were there close to evening prayer.  We spent two hours meandering through the souqs and streets and taking it all in.  I was finally able to take some pictures, which I'll upload soon.  Balad is what you might picture an Arabic city to look and feel and sound and smell like (or at least how I pictured it), and it's different from most other places in Jeddah.  It was HOT.  We were there in full traditional dress, men in long, white thobes, and the women in abayas.  Many people stopped and stared at us; clearly the blending in we were trying to accomplish didn't happen.  It was curiosity more than anything; we were all speaking Arabic and were accompanied by two locals.  The heat really got to one of my companions all of a sudden, and she had to sit down or else she would have fainted.  By luck, this happened in the perfect spot.  We happened upon a group of Saudi men lounging on high wooden benches with cushions and waiting to break the fast.  Not only did they let her sit down, they plied her (and us) with water and dates and samboosas and engaged us in conversation.  Given that eating and drinking before sunset is illegal and that we were a mixed gender group, this spoke to the generosity and hospitality of Saudis.  This group is all loosely related and gathers in this spot on the 10th and 20th days of Ramadan, in the shadows of their crumbling family home, for iftar and reunion.  It was such an unexpected and unpredictable encounter, but it was easily one of the highlights.  Elsewhere, especially in the courtyards of mosques, people bring food and drink and host iftars for the poor.  We saw several such feasts getting ready to start.

Balad is thought to be about 2,500 years old, the settlement site of tribes of fisherman.  The area is characterized by historic buildings, many of them now crumbling due to lack of preservation, which are often made of coral and feature mashrabiya.  Mashrabiya, according to Wikipedia, is, "a type of projecting oriel window enclosed with carved wood latticework located on the second story of a building or higher."  It's a beautiful feature; I couldn't stop staring at the gorgeous woodwork.  While the wood comes mainly from various countries in Africa as well as from Indonesia, the materials used for the buildings themselves is local.  The buildings are constructed from blocks of coral and shells from the Red Sea, mixed with cement.  The two different techniques complement each other.  The wooden beams inserted throughout the building create a structural shell and allow for easy access to repair and/or replace bad sections with new blocks.  While these blocks may not strike you as the most structurally sound materials, the buildings are in disrepair due to lack of care rather than disintegrating materials.  It's very sad to see so many of these amazing buildings falling to ruin; preservation efforts have not been widespread.  One house in particular has been meticulously preserved - Nassif House.  I have yet to go there and meet with its dynamic protector, a local engineer who is devoted to preservation of the historic area, but I will soon.  And I will post pictures as soon as I can locate my camera cord...

Our final destination was the Red Sea Palace Hotel, only a few hundred meters from both the beach.  They, like many major hotels, host a daily iftar buffet.  Dozens of people were filling their plates with food from the ample buffet tables and then returning to their seats to wait for the adhan, signaling the official end of the fast for the day.  Then everyone drinks and eats a little bit before adjoining to the prayer room to perform the Maghreb prayer, returning to feast.  We were served a selection of juices, drinking yogurt, dates, water, and lentil soup.  The buffet had dozens of traditional salad dishes, including the well-known hummus, fettoosh, tabouleh, babaghanoush, etc..  There was a foul buffet (a sort of mashed fava beans, with olive oil, garlic, and lemon juice).  The foul was served in a large, traditional, pounded-metal, urn-like container, complete with a long handled spoon for serving.  Main dishes included lots of meats and potatoes and rice, and some pasta and fish.  The dessert selection was amazing.  (Like the journal I kept during my first overseas trip, to France at age 13, I find myself chronicling food and meals in much greater detail than many other experiences.  I will try to diversify in future posts...)  All in all, a great way to spend a Friday afternoon!

And the Dress Code Is...

We were in the shuttle to work one day, and I asked my colleagues what the dress code was for an upcoming work event.  Two women looked at each other, looked at me, and, laughing, said "abaya!" in unison.  This has become a consistent theme.

Before coming to the Kingdom, I spent months trying to decide how I felt about the abaya.  I read countless books by women, Saudi and non, who had lived in KSA and worn the abaya and, often, a full veil.  I read all the available guidance on USG policy on the abaya, which basically supports a woman's right to choose whether or not to wear it.  Which I support and appreciate.  My opinion was as fully-formed as it could be before actually being in Saudi.

Now that I'm here, I've formed a love-hate relationship with my abaya.  (I only have one, but I already have a need for another.  I'm tired of lugging mine back and forth to the office on the off chance I might need to go out, so I need one to keep there.)  It took me nearly a week to coordinate things and go abaya-shopping.  I had a loaner for the couple of times I went out before that, but it was important to have one of my own.  Buying it was a cultural experience in and of itself.  A colleague and I perused several stores at a mall before enlisting the help of a nice salesman.  (Because they're almost all men.)  He didn't have one I liked, but he brought me to a store that did and helped with the negotiations.  I love bargaining.  I'm usually willing to pay the full price for something, but I love seeing how much of a discount I can get.  Some people hate haggling, but I think it's great fun.  So even though I spent more than I wanted on something I didn't wholeheartedly want, I got it for significantly less than its price.  They hemmed it for me while we waited, and I walked out of the mall fully cloaked in my very own black nightmare.

And nightmare is how I want to feel about it.  I hate the idea of it, the color of it, the necessity of it.  I know I'm imposing my own Western beliefs and ideals when I see it and think about it, and I know many women wear it willingly, but I still see it through my own feminist lens.  And now that I've worn one in the full onslaught of Jeddah heat and humidity, I hate it for its bulk, its heat-attracting and insulating properties, and its polyester, non-breathable qualities.  I trip over its length, I have to constantly watch my sleeves - they're either too loose and long or too constricting and never just right, getting in and out of vehicles is a constant challenge, and sitting down can strangle you if you're not careful.

But in some ways, I love it.  When my colleagues said the dress code was abaya, I breathed a sigh of relief.  That's one more event for which I don't have to plan an outfit.  It certainly makes getting dressed to go out a lot easier.  A ratty t-shirt and jeans underneath, but to everyone else I look identical to all the other women.  (Well, not identical by a long stretch.  No matter how hard I might try to blend, I'm not really fooling anybody.) 

Abayas have gone designer.  In my few shopping ventures thus far, I've seen every manner of embroidery, embellishment, and embracing color on abayas.  There are far more styles than I'd ever dreamed of, and a designer abaya can cost upwards of $6,000.  (And those aren't even the ones from international fashion houses.)  I must say that among this crop of (slightly) colorful and tricked out abayas, shopping becomes much more fun. There are zippered abayas, ones with snaps, pull-over style or traditional front-close, loose sleeves, fitted sleeves, butterfly sleeves, and all manner of pocket choices.  And don't forget about the glitz.  Rhinestones, beads, sequins, crystals, and anything shiny can adorn an abaya. My own is very tame by comparison, with only some simple black beading and coordinating decoration on the cuffs.  I find myself wanting a more upscale one, with higher quality fabrics and some color.  But do I really want to spend a couple hundred dollars on something I don't really want and will likely never wear again after this tour?  Is abaya-buying a slippery slope; can you truly not stop at one?  Is the "well I have to wear one, so I might as well wear a pretty one" mentality winning over the "I'm only wearing this because I have to, so I'm not putting any effort into it" one?

The abaya wardrobe lends a new perspective to makeup, hair, and accessorizing, as well.  A recent FT article (07/19/2010, by Abeer Allam) had this to say:  "When they leave their homes, the women of Saudi Arabia veil their faces and carefully shroud themselves from head to toe in shapeless black cloaks. While their faces might be invisible in most public places, the kingdom’s female citizens spend more on hair and cosmetics per capita than almost any other women in the Middle East."  From what I've seen, this is true.  The few times I've seen a large number of unveiled women in one place, they are impeccably made up, and they wear enough bling that it's blinding in large crowds.  Designer handbags are also de rigeur, another status symbol when clothes aren't visible. 

Once Ramadan (a more conservative time of year) is over I may test the waters by shedding my abaya on occasion.  We'll see.  The truth is, it's easier to wear it than to ward off the stares and disbelief when you don't wear it.  I'm still not sure how I feel about it, personally and otherwise.  But I know that I still groan inwardly every time I have to put one on.  I never don it until the last possible minute, and as soon as I'm out of 'public' it's off again.  But then again, I am far less likely to spill and ruin an outfit when I wear my abaya...

So the jury's out.  And may never be in.  But two weeks after arrival, I'm more conflicted than I think I thought I'd be. 

Ramadan: Fast & Feast

I’ve been in Jeddah for more than a week and worked my first full week at the Consulate.  Right now is a good time to settle in and get the lay of the land, as things are slowed down for Ramadan.  Most people are either at home on vacation or abroad with their families.  In Saudi, eating, drinking, and smoking in public is forbidden from dawn to sunset, when the fast is broken.  Most ex-pats and non-Muslims will eat and drink in the privacy of their home, and our compound restaurants are still open.  At work many of our colleagues are fasting, so there are no snacks around (which is very good for many reasons!), and we keep water and drinks out of sight at our desks.  Our colleagues understand that many of us are not observing Ramadan, but we try to be as respectful as possible as well.  So in the normal course of home and work, it’s easy to get by during Ramadan. 

However, the Saudi experience in Ramadan is quite something.  I don’t think it’s unique, but it takes some getting used to.  Basically, NOTHING is open during the daytime.  This means restaurants of course, but also stores, malls, many businesses, many government offices, and most service-related entities.  A few stores have limited morning hours, but they’re not always predictable or consistent.  Some stores start to open in the mid-afternoon so people can prepare for iftar (the fast-breaking), but for the most part the city is shuttered until after evening prayers, around 9:30pm.  During the day there is very little activity, which means very little traffic as well.  We get to work in record time, but traffic picks up by the time we leave at the end of the day.  By 9pm the streets are a madhouse.  Even the most mundane errands (grocery-shopping, signing up for internet service, etc.) must be done in the late evenings.  People are out and about until the wee hours of the morning, at which time they eat the pre-dawn suhoor and then sleep, many until past noon.

I’ve gone out a few times in the evening for things like procuring internet service, buying an abaya, and twice to go to ladies-only charity bazaars.  Forget the picture you may have of the typical US craft bazaar, held in a church or town hall and marked by knitted tea cozies and scary-faced dolls.  No, the Saudi ladies-only charity bazaar is a social event and a place to do serious shopping.  They’re held at places like the Hilton conference center or the Jeddah Exhibition Center.  Dozens of haute couture fashion designers and boutiques bring their gorgeous but commensurately-priced wares to sell to the Saudi elite.  Designer abayas that cost thousands of dollars; traditional and modern dresses and outfits of every color, pattern, and fabric; jewel-encrusted watches and coffee cups and brooches; and high-end home furnishings are all on offer.  The theme here is bling.  Every single thing is covered by jewels, crystals, rhinestones, sequins, or something to make it shine and glitter.  It’s amazing.  Every woman has a designer handbag, impeccable makeup, and leaves a trail of expensive, made-to-order perfume in her wake.  There is an entry fee charged, which goes to the organizer’s charity of choice, and I assume some of the proceeds do as well.  Coffee, tea, chocolates, and other delights are passed around as you wander the maze of stalls.  It’s an overwhelming but deliciously unique experience.  I have only managed to walk away with a pair of moderately-priced earrings and some sweets to take as a hostess gift.  But there are thousands and thousands of dollars being spent on the very latest in Saudi fashion and accessories.

In the spirit of Ramadan, I fasted today.  I felt it was only appropriate, as I was invited to my first iftar, or fast-breaking, at a colleague’s house.  Now granted I did my fasting Saudi-style, sleeping until after noon and then staying fairly inert for the afternoon, but I was definitely appreciative of the adhan (call to prayer) and then being able to take a drink of water for the first time all day.  My entire section came to iftar, and my colleague and her husband were lovely and generous hosts.  It was a great way to get to know my colleagues out of an office setting.  We began by drinking juices and coffee and watching the Maghreb prayer in Mecca on the television, accompanied by dates and nuts.  It’s important to break the fast with just a little bit of food and drink before having a large meal.  I found I was more thirsty than hungry, which makes sense, especially given the climate. 

Dinner was phenomenal.  Everything was lovingly prepared from scratch and presented impeccably, and we had a wonderful, family-style feast.  Lentil soup, salad, samboosas, lahmajoun, dolmas, roast chicken, Armenian rice with fruit and nuts, kibbeh, and hummus were all on the menu.  We capped it off with tea and coffee, and then the desserts emerged.  Cheese kunafa and carrot cupcakes were accompanied by a delectable fresh fruit salad.  We were all stuffed but very satisfied after two hours of eating.  I will now be able to fast for a week before eating again (though I will be guzzling water). 

Tomorrow I’m going on a tour of the old city (in Arabic) with colleagues and to another iftar, this time in a restaurant.  I have several other iftars on the calendar for the weeks ahead – Ramadan Mubarak!

A Week Later

It's a week later, and I am still missing Hattie terribly.  I look at her pictures every day and try not to well up with tears.  Sometimes I succeed.  Today I finally unpacked the several boxes of bedding, food, toys, and paraphernalia I shipped ahead to myself to have soon after arrival.  I am keeping everything; it's in a closet now, but I don't want it all to go to waste, whether I use it or donate it.  I'm supported by the strength of my community, both here in Jeddah and throughout the world.  Every day really does get a little bit easier.  I still haven't been able to recount fully in writing what happened, because it's too heartbreaking.  It was pure negligence and never should have happened.  But, I can't change the past, so I have to keep moving forward.  And I do.  People have been kindly suggesting sources for cats and dogs to adopt, and I'm sure I will end up with one or the other soon.  Cats are easy, because all you have to do is open your door to find one in need of a home.  I met an adorable dog tonight, a Tibetan terrier, and his breeder is local.  And I've heard of local rescue groups and individuals.  So there are possibilities.  The hardest thing is getting used to a routine without a dog.  I don't have to take her out first thing in the morning or when I get home from work or before bedtime.  I can leave food on the coffee table while I run to get something in the other room without fearing it will be discovered and re-appropriated in my short absence.  But I truly miss those things.  I miss having her at my feet while I am on the computer.  Most of all I miss the companionship and having her by my side all day and all night.  Each day is a new day, and her memory will forever live on. 

A Heartfelt Thank You

I cannot even begin to express in words the comfort I have gotten from the dozens and dozens of supportive and sympathetic messages I’ve received from friends old and new across the globe over the last few days. This has been a very difficult few days, and the fact that it has been my first few days at my first post has compounded that. I am still actively grieving the loss of my beloved Hattie; even just saying or writing her name brings tears to my eyes, let along looking at pictures or actively remembering. And yet with every email, Facebook message or comment, phone call, and message from the blogosphere, I heal just a little bit quicker. Well-wishes and condolences from family and friends have warmed my heart and will continue to do so in the days and weeks to come. What has particularly amazed and inspired me has been the reaction of the Consulate community. I am new to overseas life in the FS, and I’ve always heard the community likened to a family, but this week I’ve experienced that firsthand. Everyone has been so kind and gone out of their way both to make me feel welcome and to express condolences. It’s an unusual way to get to know people at post, but I feel that much more at home for it. Several members of the community took time out of their weekend to help me bury Hattie, which made a very difficult thing that much easier. I look forward to being able to repay their kindness and cement friendships with my own contributions to the community. (My usual go-to of baked goods will have to wait until the end of Ramadan, though.) The pain is still fresh, though each day really does get a little easier. You all are a big part of that. To each and every one of you, a heartfelt thank you.

In Memoriam: Harriet “Hattie” Dworak, 2000-2010

 

I am in Jeddah, having arrived two nights ago.  In a later post I will describe my first impressions of the city and my new life here, but for now I need to grieve.  The myriad of emotions that I have been through over the past 50 hours is indescribable.  I am not feeling strong enough yet to go into detail about what happened, but my beloved friend and faithful companion of seven years, Hattie, passed away before she was released from Customs at the airport.  It is an unspeakable tragedy and one for which I will feel immeasurable guilt and sadness for a long time to come.  While the circumstances of her death were beyond my control, it is very hard to convince myself that it was not ultimately my fault.  I know rationally that I shouldn’t think that, but unexpected loss often brings immense guilt to loved ones.  I am no exception. 

My new colleagues and friends, without exception, have been supportive and comforting beyond words and have gone well and above the call of duty to help me navigate both the bureaucratic and emotional side of this tragedy.  Without their help I would be lost entirely, and I never would have been able to achieve any sort of closure.  Today, in a peaceful corner of the Consulate grounds, with a number of people supporting me, I laid Hattie to rest.  I take comfort in the ability to visit her grave and spend time with her over the course of my tour.

I am heartbroken over the loss and particularly the traumatic circumstances of Hattie’s passing, but I know in time I will be able to remember only the wonderful things from my seven years with her.  From the first time I met her (in the car when my family picked me up from the airport during a college break, when she bounded onto my lap and gave me her patented expectant look and then promptly rolled over for a belly rub), to the countless nights she kept my feet warm, to her endless hours of ‘exercise’ that both fascinated and irritated people, to the past year of living in DC and taking many very hot road trips, we made a great team.  She was quirky and eccentric, but maybe that’s why we bonded so well. 

Here’s to Hattie.  

From Heidelberg With Love

(NB:  I wrote this post in the Frankfurt airport but was kicked off of free internet before being able to post. I want to post it now, unedited, because in the future I will want to remember how excited I was to see Hattie at the end of the journey, even though right now those memories are painful. I did check in both with the flight manager at the gate and the flight attendant on board, who had checked and assured me Hattie was on the plane. In the words of the gate agent, "she [was] making terror for everyone." This made me laugh because I know both how harmless Hattie was but how emphatic she could be when she wanted something. She would have been an excellent guard dog. She was a marvelous companion. See the next post for more.)

Heidelberg, as everyone told me, is a beautiful place. I only have 40 minutes until I board my plane to Saudi (!), so I will only write a short post, but I wanted to do so before forgetting everything once I arrive in the Kingdom. Pictures to follow once I settle in and find my camera cord...

(And now an interruption to my thoughts to be really excited because the airline PA system is broadcasting in Arabic as well as German and English!!! I know it will get old soon, but right now it's all new and exciting.)

I had an aisle seat on a somewhat full flight with an empty seat next to me. Perfect! Not as perfect as being upgraded to the (completely) empty business class, but that didn't happen. I was able to sleep a bit but was mostly restlessly trying to get comfortable.

My flight arrived early, and my bags arrived with me. The story behind this is that I was hoping to be able to check my bags to Jeddah or to have the airline lose my bags so I didn't have to lug them to and from Heidelberg. I had all I needed for the first few days in carry-on. Neither scenario materialized. So all my luggage and I shuttled to the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Heidelberg, which I highly recommend. Centrally located with very comfortable rooms and a great Club lounge. Not a lot of old world charm, but plenty of anonymity and all the amenities, which is what I wanted. Their 'light snacks' in the Club lounge was basically all but one of my meals, and I made good use of the included minibar and drinks available in the lounge. Gotta love making the most of per diem! I napped for a couple of hours and then set off.

The Hauptstraße was close to my hotel, so I walked its length to the funicular railway at Kornmarkt. Along the way I popped into a few shops, including the amazingly fun and labyrinthine Kathe Wöhlfart German Christmas Museum. I of course picked up a few trinkets for this year's verboten Christmas tree.

After a short ride, I reached Schloss Heidelberg (the castle). I spent a couple of hours poking around the grounds and the various attractions there, including the world's largest wine keg and the German Apothecary Museum. I walked back to the hotel along the River Neckar; I'd hoped to take a boat ride, but I was too late in the day.

A pleasant dinner at the hotel restaurant later, I repacked and went to bed. This morning I had to fight my way onto the airport shuttle (they had me reserved for a later time) and then had to listen to the driver berate me most of the ride for their mistake, but all that really matters is that I arrived at the airport in plenty of time. At the ticket counter, the agent didn't blink an eye when I checked three bags (I had redistributed two heavy suitcases into three after almost having to pay $350 in Boston for the extra kilograms). Instead she looked at me and asked, "You're allowed three bags, right?" I said yes quickly and emphatically, and that was it. Amazing. So. Three flights with about 65kg of baggage cost me a whopping total of $50. Not too shabby. Of course now I've allocated my rolling carry-on to checked baggage, so I'm left lugging three non-rolling bags. Small price to pay.

In exciting news, Hattie is in Frankfurt as well! She made it out of DC last night without incident (to the best of my knowledge; last I heard she was en route to the airport, and after that no news is good news). I wasn't able to see her here as she's traveling cargo, but I am going to go check with the flight manager shortly to make sure she is getting on our flight with no problems.

And though they may never see this, I want to wholeheartedly thank the several staff members who are working overtime to help facilitate my arrival in the Kingdom tonight. An expediter and a PAS colleague are meeting me with one van at the terminal, while another car and expediter work on getting Hattie cleared through customs. I am so grateful for this assistance. The whole staff has been great about preparing for my arrival. I can't wait to finally meet everyone and start working.

So, my short post has once again turned long, and I am going to sign off and see about boarding the plane.

Here's to finally getting to post!

Off to Ride the Camels!

One very short week later, I'm back at Logan Airport, waiting for my flight to Frankfurt. I will spend a glorious 30 hours in Heidelberg (minus travel time) before heading to the Kingdom. It has been three years since I was last in Europe, so I'm looking forward to it immensely, especially the staying in a nice hotel part. Most of my European experiences as an adult have consisted of hostels and campgrounds, so this will be a nice change.

I suck at packing and at saying goodbye. There has been a lot of both in the last week. And I have to pack one more time before getting to my destination (not counting the move within the compound from my temporary to permanent quarters). So I'm not going to dwell on this aspect of the last week.

My youngest nephew, who is three and a half, doesn't quite understand why I'm always coming home and then leaving again. This time he finally ordered me to "just move back into my house and stay there!" I explained that I have to move far, far away for work but that he can come and visit me and see the camels. Well that part stuck in his head. For the last several days he keeps telling his grandparents and his father and anyone else who will listen that he's going to go visit Aunt Sadie and ride the camels. His grandmother encourages him; his father not so much. Yesterday, though, as I was saying a last tearful goodbye to him and telling him I'd keep the camels company until he visited, I realized how much he'd been thinking about this. He was quiet for a few minutes (an unusual thing), and then I heard him ask his father how he was going to get up onto the camel to ride it. This was the biggest obstacle he could think of with regard to visiting me far, far away. We of course all burst out laughing. So in a sad moment came laughter, as it always does.

And with that, I'm off. Let the adventures begin!