Sri Lanka - Day Two

Day Two in Sri Lanka had its ups and downs. Literally and figuratively. After a lovely breakfast on the veranda at my guest house, kept company by the birds and monkeys frolicking in the trees nearby, my driver and I headed out. When I booked my trip, the manager had told me that the driving distances were long on the routes I proposed but that they were doable. I sort of brushed this comment aside, thinking to myself that 60km, 100km, even 150km were not formidable distances. Ah, yes. That would be true on the interstate. Much less true on narrow, winding, two-lane roads with significant car/bus/truck/tuk-tuk/and pedestrian traffic! With significant elevation changes as we climb higher and higher into the mountains...

Before leaving Kandy, we stopped in at an arts and crafts store so I could do some souvenir shopping. I could have spent many more hours and many, many more rupees here, wandering through the chaotic splendor of the store. Everything from antique masks to tourist kitsch to gorgeous silver platters was on offer. It was a literal treasure hunt. I am happy to say I rose to the challenge... as if anyone was worried! We also stopped at a batik factory, where I watched women hard at work on intricate patterns. Again, some nice souvenirs. We very briefly stopped at a gem emporium, but they had mostly high-end pieces imported to Sri Lanka. Not exactly what I was looking for.

Anyway, after quenching my retail thirst, we began our climb. We went from about 500m elevation to 1868m in only a few dozen kilometers. The 1868 is in Nuwara Eliya, with views of Sri Lanka's highest peak. Along the way, the landscape changed dramatically. We climbed out of the tropical jungle and entered a land of misty views of rolling hills, complete with dozens of waterfalls. In addition to the more temperate trees in this zone, the predominant greenery was tea plants. Hundreds, thousands of acres of tea plantations unfolded before us as we drove through the Hill Country of Sri Lanka. What an amazing sight! We stopped at Glenloch estate, where I learned about the process of picking, drying, sorting, and grading tea before sampling some of the delicious local product. After a quick sojourn in the estate's restaurant and a photo op with some of the lovely women picking tea along the fringes of the estate, we were off again. We drove most of the afternoon en route to Ella, where we'd stay the night. (I've conveniently repressed the 25 km and 3 hours of one-lane dirt roads for road work. What a horrible drive segment that was!)

It's here that the story diminishes a bit. Before leaving for the trip, I had looked into a number of ayurvedic spas along the way. I love indulging in relaxing spa treatments at home and while traveling, and Sri Lanka looked incredibly promising. I found a few online and in tour books/fora that looked decent. One, though, worried me. In Lonely Planet, it got glowing reviews. On TripAdvisor, however, it got horrendous, nightmarish reviews. My driver promised to bring me to a good one in Ella, and, since I'd read reviews of several, I figured there was a good chance it wasn't this one. Well, you know what they say about assumptions. I have well and truly learned my lesson. I can now say, without reservations, that Suwamadura Spa in Ella Sri Lanka is as bad, even worse, than the reviews say. It may be the worst spa in the history of spas. It even makes one of my massage experiences in Bangkok pale in comparison (to date my worst spa experience). And that's saying a lot. A whole lot.

It started off innocently enough. The reception area was clean, well-appointed, and the menu of treatments was well-presented. The office had multiple diplomas and certificates on the walls, certifying the education of the staff. I chose a head massage, facial, body massage, and shiro dhara. It was the latter I was most excited about - having hot oil dripped onto my forehead and massaged in. Reputed to treat and prevent headaches and migraines, among other ailments.

They led me to the back room and showed me a locker for my valuables. Then they pointed to a shower stall, without a curtain, handed me a towel, and told me to change. I looked around. The few other shell-shocked Westerners were all clad only in a towel. This, alone, is not such a big deal. But it gets worse. First, I made the mistake of looking up. Lonely Planet had said this place was spotless. I do not call the biggest spider I've ever seen in my life hiding in the corner of the ceiling spotlessly clean. I am terrified of spiders. Horribly, compulsively, terribly terrified. I start shaking at even the smallest one, even a daddy long legs. So, I changed, dutifully put on the towel, and never took my eyes off the offensive beast. I've seen some gigantic spiders in my life (all of which still give me nightmares), and this topped them all. The legs must have been four-five inches long. I'm still shaking as I write this. I was tempted to run screaming out of there then. I should have.

So, scared out of my mind and trembling, I sat down in the plastic chair the woman pointed to. Thus began my head massage. She poured on some oil and proceeded to give me the worst head massage in the history of head massages. When I wasn't being hit, pinched, poked, or shaken, my hair was being irreparably snarled. At not one point was there any hint of a therapeutic stroke. Now I lived in Thailand and willingly submitted for the painful but rewarding Thai massages on a regular basis. I don't think any school of massage therapy advocates the torture I experienced.

Finally, thankfully, it was over. But the nightmare was just beginning. Now it was time for the full body massage. Clutching my towel, I lay down on the uncomfortable slab that passed for a massage table. There were several cubicles in this area, enclosed only on three sides. No privacy at all. Let's just say the head massage was a walk in the park compared with the body massage. First of all, copious amounts of oil does not a good massage make. When I finally was allowed up from the table, there was a literal pool of oil under me. Ew. Second, this full-body massage included more of the body than any massage I've ever had before. Which spans dozens on five continents in countless countries. I know massage. This was not massage. So after this is over, I'm coated head to toe in oil, and I can feel the bruises forming.

Time for shiro dhara. When performed correctly, Wikipedia says it is this: "Shirodhara is a form of Ayurveda medicine that involves gently pouring liquids over the forehead (the 'third eye'). It was developed by vaidyas (practitionars of Ayurveda) in Kerala, India for use in sukhachikitsa (restorative therapy) and can be one of the steps involved in Panchakarma. The name comes from the Sanskrit words shiras 'head' and dhara 'flow'. The liquids used in shirodhara depend on what is being treated, but can include oil, milk, buttermilk, coconut water, or even plain water. Shirodhara has been used to treat a variety of conditions including eye diseases, sinusitis, allergic rhinitis, greying of hair, neurological disorders, memory loss, insomnia, hearing impairment, tinnitus, vertigo, Ménière's disease and certain types of skin diseases like psoriasis. It is also used non-medicinally at spas for its relaxing properties."

I lay face-up on a guillotine-like table, my head resting on a piece of wood sticking out slightly from the end of the table. My tormentor heated up the oil. I am thankful I couldn't actually see any of what happened, as she covered my eyes with tissue. The oil was placed above me and started dripping. At first it felt nice. Then the first batch started to run out and ran cold. That was less pleasant. She replaced it with the next batch. And I concentrated less on the sensation and more on the oil itself. Not only was she not massaging it into my forehead and temples as advertised, it was all dripping into a collection bucket via my hair. The longer I lay there, the more I worried about my hair. How on earth was I ever going to get it clean again. After a few repetitions of the oil change routine, she started wringing out my hair in between. There is nothing much more disgusting than having buckets of oil wrung out of your hair. When she finally stopped with the dripping of the oil, she spent several minutes wringing my hair. It was a lost cause. It would be days before my hair was back to something resembling normal. And this oil was, almost certainly, mass-produced and without any skin-nurturing properties.

And then it was time for my facial. The woman wiped the oil off my face and then wet a tissue and cleaned my face. That was the cleanser. She stuck me in a sauna for a few minutes, where I desperately tried to towel off some of the excess oil from the last few treatments. I couldn't imagine putting clothes on with this much disgusting oil coating my body. After a few minutes, she came in and rubbed some sort of scrub on my face. After a few more minutes, she collected me and directed me to a bathroom, where I was instructed to wash my face. Presumably with the water, because there was no soap or anything else. This is hard to do when you're coated with oil. I did the best I could. That concluded my facial. I could have done without it.

I was directed back to the spider-infested shower stall to change back into my clothes. I de-oiled as best I could and changed. I opened the locker and took my things and tried to hightail it out of there. Not quickly enough. My tormentor asked me how the experience was. And then suggested I 'make tip'. I knew this was coming but still resented it. I threw her 500 rupees (about $5) and just about ran out. My driver asked how it was. I smiled limply and asked if we were far from the guesthouse.

Luckily, we were only a few minutes away. But, wouldn't you know it, they were experiencing a power cut. So I had to sit on the edge of the bed and wait 20 minutes to shower. And even when the power came back on, the shower pressure wasn't enough to completely clean the oil off my body. And three shampoos only began to touch the oil slick that was my hair. I changed and went downstairs for dinner. Luckily, the guest house dinner improved my mood slightly. It was a delectable collection of foods served inside a steaming banana leaf - all the right flavors and spices to make me happy. And there was a friendly dachshund who spent time with each diner.

I showered - and shampooed twice - again before bed, to little effect. Oh well. The worst was over. And I learned my lesson - listen to TripAdvisor!! Stay away from Suwamadura!!

Sri Lanka - Day One

As usual, I'm way late in writing about my trip to Sri Lanka. But here's installment one, written as I slave in the kitchen over clam chowder and fattoush salad. All right, scratch that. It's several hours later, and I finished making both dishes and manage to preview the movie 'Salt' for potential future use.

All right. Here we go. Installment one.

Err. Right. It's now 20 hours later. As usual. This has just been a trying week, and sleep took precedent this weekend. So here goes nothing.

I started my journey to Sri Lanka late a week ago Wednesday. My flight, which had been insanely cheap, started here in Jeddah and stopped in Riyadh before continuing to Colombo. I had a few friends getting on in Riyadh, though we had different trips planned. We all managed to get seated in the relatively empty upper deck of the plane and had entire rows to ourselves. So I got a reasonable amount of sleep while stretched out across three seats.

We landed in Colombo at just before 10am, which is 2.5 hours later than KSA time. I was in that strange 1/2 hour time zone for the first time! (Not to mention in South Asia for the first time.)

No problem with immigration, and, even though my bag was one of the last to come out, I still made it to the terminal not much later than 10am. My driver was waiting for me, and off we went!

I had booked a private tour wherein I told the company roughly what I was interested in seeing, and they provided a car/driver and booked the accommodation for me. Not bad.

Within five minutes of leaving the airport, I saw my first elephant! It was a working elephant in the process of being loaded onto a truck. The driver pulled over so I could take pictures. I mean, really, how often do you see an elephant get onto a truck?!

We drove straight towards Kandy, bypassing Colombo entirely. Immediately I fell in love with Sri Lanka. Lush greenery! Including my two favorite trees/plants - palm trees and banana trees! There were fresh fruit stands every few hundred meters, selling beautiful coconuts and bananas and papayas and myriad other wonderful tropical fruits.

I was immediately struck by the beauty of the country and the people - so many colors! Religious diversity! Gender segregation! Tuk tuks! Oh, how I'd missed tuk tuks.

After about an hour of driving, we reached the turn off for Pinnawela Elephant Orphanage. I didn't have a lot of expectations, as I've been to some really well-run elephant orphanages elsewhere and had heard questionable things about Pinnawela. I paid my $20 foreign entrance, and my driver and I walked around. The first elephant we encountered was an older tusker, chained to a slab of cement under a canopy and being pimped out by his mahout for photo opportunities. See, this what I wasn't excited about. All around us, elephants wandered in relative freedom while their mahouts charged the tourists who wanted to take pictures with them. We met one of the resident success stories - a female who lost a leg to a land mine and has been well-cared for here since. And they do have one of the best captive breeding programs in the world. So, good with the bad.

I wandered down to the feeding hut and communed for a while with an elephant in a confining fenced-in box. This guy broke a leg in a fight and has been well-cared for over six months as he healed. Not being able to move much helps with this process. That's pretty cool. He hammed it up for the tourists, every once in a while taking the weight off his injured leg.

At feeding time, two baby elephants were led to the large hut, where they were bottle fed milk by tourists willing to fork out an additional few dollars. Of course I forked out the additional few dollars. It was cute, but still a little hokey.

After that, my driver and I beelined for the river. At Pinnawela, most of the elephants have free range around the park for most of the day. Twice a day they're led down to the river for a two-hour bath time. My driver settled me in at a colonial-style restaurant on the banks of the river with a ringside seat for bath time. I drank delicious fresh pineapple juice and had my first taste of Sri Lankan rice and curry while watching one of the coolest things ever. The elephants came walking down the road, lined with souvenir stalls, promptly at 2pm. One young guy ran ahead of the others to be first in the water. Almost everyone got in willingly. Even the three-legged elephant.

Once they were in the water, they seemed to do what they wanted. Some actually bathed. Some took off for the opposite bank for a meander. Some climbed out of the water and approached the tourists, hoping for a hand out. Some bellowed and looked for playmates. And one tried to climb the stairs to the restaurant! It was a pretty cute sight, and this experience made me feel more positive about the overall Pinnawela experience.

After an hour or so, my driver reappeared, and we set off. Along the path back to the parking lot we passed all the souvenir shops as before. And a snake charmer! A young boy had a cobra wrapped around his neck. I just laughed.

We drove a ways on and then stopped at a spice grove. A nice man who identified himself as an ayurvedic doctor took me on a tour, showing me things like jackfruit, chocolate trees, ginger plants, cinnamon trees, many different peppers, nutmeg, sandalwood, and a number of other spices and plants. In an open-air hut in the middle of it, an ayurvedic student demonstrated the efficacy of some of the products with a head, face, and upper back massage treatment. Absolutely blissful, and an effective sales pitch! I bought more than I intended.

We continued on to Kandy, arriving in time for an evening dance performance. We were rushed to drive around the lake to get to the auditorium, so I didn't get any good pictures of the town or the lake or the Temple of the Tooth. The dance performance was great. Every piece was a little more intense and involved, culminating in dancers walking across hot coals. I was amazed at the beauty of the costumes and the gorgeous dance routines.

After that, it was time to visit the Temple of the Tooth, which is the most sacred Buddhist site in Sri Lanka, housing what's believed to be one of the Buddha's teeth. To add to the majesty of this experience, I was there on a poya night. Every full moon in Sri Lanka is a poya, a public holiday. Many Buddhists make a point to visit the temples and make offerings. Tonight was no exception. Buddhist pilgrims made up the vast majority of the crowd, but it certainly made it a crowded experience. I made my way through the queue, guided by my driver the whole way, who narrated what we were seeing. I had read that each visitor was granted about 15 seconds to view the Tooth room, where the outermost of the seven caskets holding the tooth would be visible, 3 meters away. I think we each got about 1.5 seconds before we were herded away. The temple was gorgeous, as was the spectacle of thousands of white-clad pilgrims meditating and making offerings of flowers. But I didn't get to take in the temple as well as I would have liked. It was just too crowded. We finally emerged and reclaimed our shoes and took off for the guest house, nestled high in the hills above Kandy.

After fifteen harrowing minutes of driving on narrow, winding roads, we reached my guest house. They had a restaurant serving dinner, but I was too tired for food. And still stuffed from the feast at lunch. So I just got some drinks and took a shower and settled into bed. The room was simple but adequate. Really, as long as there was a bed, a fan, a mosquito net, and hot water, I was happy. I fell asleep reading my Sri Lanka guidebook and reveling in a blissful first day. I was so full of anticipation and adoration and excitement, and I fell asleep easily and quickly.

More to come on the following days... And a few pictures of day one!

Sri Lanka in a Word

Sri Lanka is, in a word, phenomenal. I am already planning my next trip. I fell in love with the country, the culture, the people, the food, the landscape, everything. I am even saying this while nursing second degree sunburns on my neck and arms. (And before you say it, I was wearing sunscreen. SPF 85, as always. I just have very fair skin.) Luckily, I stocked up on aloe vera gel at one of the many spice and herb shops along my route.

I literally just got home and have to read up on the latest revolutionary movements in the Middle East so I'm prepared for work tomorrow. (Every time I leave the country for vacation, something regionally momentous happens. So updates are still to come. As are pictures. I'll probably write and update in installments throughout the week. Or maybe this weekend. Lots happening in this short week.

(Stubborn) Sick Day

Yesterday I did something I very rarely do (and hadn't done in more than a year). I went home sick. Thankfully I haven't been hit by any nasty viruses or infections in a while (knock on wood), but the truth of it is that I have a very hard time taking time off for being sick. Part of it is that, even after almost four years of being gainfully employed with built-in sick days, I still have the mindset that being sick = losing money. Another part of it is guilt. Which is ridiculous, I know, but it's there. I am not naive or narcissistic enough to think that if I'm not there things will fall apart, as evidenced by the fact that I have very little problem taking vacation days. But, I still don't take sick days often, and only as a last resort. Yesterday, I woke up with a headache, worse than the usual run-of-the-mill headache, but not a migraine. I debated not even getting out of bed. I showered and dressed and then debated going back to bed. I got on the shuttle and got to work. Still had a headache, which was growing worse, and some general ickiness. But it took me more than two hours of sitting at my desk to convince myself to just go home. And I went home and slept for seven straight hours and still had a bit of a headache when I woke up. So it was a justified sick half-day. But I still felt a bit guilty. (And, of course, nothing earth-shattering happened in my absence.)

Tomorrow night I'm leaving for Sri Lanka. Three and a half glorious days on vacation. Pictures and stories when I return!

Reflections on Six Months in Saudi

Or really, random reflections coinciding with my having been in Saudi for six months.

Tomorrow marks six months in Saudi Arabia. Friday marks six month since Hattie's death. (For me, the two will always be intertwined, for better or worse.) I could write an entire blog post on grief and longing and moving on. But I'll resist the urge. For tonight at least.

I've never had time pass so quickly while overseas. Maybe it's being in an American bubble, or having APO and pouch available, or the ease of connecting with family and friends through technology. Whatever it is, I'm thankful. I've had fewer and less prolonged bouts of homesickness. That said, I'm excited to go home on R&R in June. I'm excited to see family and friends and celebrate family weddings and maybe eat some Maine lobster or go to Melting Pot or Filomena's for brunch. And Trader Joe's. I'm really excited for Trader Joe's.

This is a very interesting time to be living in the Middle East. Thankfully, all my friends and colleagues in Cairo and Tunisia are safe (along with their families), so I can reflect without worrying. There has been some unusual activity in KSA in the past few weeks, which I won't talk about here, since it's in the news if you look hard enough. (And read Arabic.) But I'm curious to see what happens in the region in the coming days, weeks, even months.

I've had a perpetual calendar for a number of years. I've never been very good at keeping up with it. For the same reasons that those calendars with a different joke/puzzle/cartoon/trivia question each day sit untouched for months. Except for Far Side versions, which are few and far between these years. Plants also fall into this category. Anyway. I had the perpetual calendar on my bookcase last year. But I stopped changing it after a while. And I dutifully unpacked it and put it on my bookcase here. And never bothered to change the date. When I walked by it today, I noticed it for the first time in a long time. And the day was correct. February 9. Which made me think back to last February 9. I think it was during Snowmageddon. I was probably at home in my PJs, working Haiti Task Force virtually, from the comfort of my apartment. What a difference a year makes.

I bought my brother some shirts from Eddie Bauer for Christmas. He loved them, but they were the wrong size. So he returned them. And wanted me to reorder them in a different size. But he never told me this. I only learned it this week, accidentally. I sat down to order them all over again, and, lo and behold, all of them were a) available in the right size and color and b) on clearance. So I got what I originally got and threw in a few more things for good measure. It is his birthday next week, after all. But I was mad - why is it that I can never find the clothes I want on clearance??

Apparently my recent blog on eating out in Jeddah has been popping up on Google searches when people are searching for the particular restaurant(s). One coworker came into my office and asked "are you sadieabroad?" She was looking up Salad Boutique (still a crowd pleaser, a month later) and found my post. Only as she read the post and recognized the writing style and situations did she realize it was me. Another coworker had someone ask him if he knew me; the man found my post the same way. So even though I try to be pretty security-conscious in my blog, it was a good wake-up call to be extra careful. Which made me think about blogging in general and how public I want to be. Because I don't want to limit my readership, and I'm happy not blogging about work or anything too personal. And while I was mulling this over, I read Devonnaire's very well-written post on this similar subject, which puts what I've been thinking/feeling into words. So with her permission, I'm linking to that post here.  I've connected with so many amazing people through my blog and reading other blogs, and I think the FS community is enriched by the shared experiences and opportunity to vent/share/muse/ponder with like-minded and/or like-situated people. So I'll keep blogging. But I'll try to be more conscious of all these concerns. (And I will get around to doing my own blog roll soon. I think those are great and know my readership is expanded through the rolls of others.)

My cats have taken up residence in Hattie's toy box. It's just a fabric box from Target, but they treat it like a holy shrine. One or the other is always in it. Usually the other (or both) is resident in the bathtub. I have weird cats.

I promised not to get all emotional, but I haven't given away/thrown away many of Hattie's things yet. I gave away the dry dog food and may have a taker on the treats and wet food. The toys, beds, collars, bandannas, etc. - those will stay a bit longer. I'm not quite ready to say goodbye. What I'll do is photograph everything and keep a few special things, because I know later on I'll be glad I did. For right now, they stay in the box.

And on that depressing note, time for bed. No alarm tomorrow. And a beach barbecue to look forward to. And Sri Lanka to look forward to in only a week! Thanks for all the suggestions - I can't wait!

What's Thai for "Will you marry me?"

This week's Round Up is hosted by Sara at Wife-Mommy-Woman. The topic is your most embarrassing expat moment. I am thankful that nothing immediately comes to mind; that's not to say there aren't good stories to be told, but I can't think of anything super embarrassing off the top of my head. So that brings me to one of my favorite stories.

In college, I spent my junior year abroad - a semester in Khon Kaen, Thailand and then a semester in Cape Town, South Africa. On my first day in Cape Town, our orientation included a trip up Table Mountain at sunset. Our group consisted of about fifty students from around the US. We were all meeting each other for the first time. For those of you who have never been to Cape Town, Table Mountain is the striking feature in the middle of the city - aptly named and featured on all iconic pictures of the city. You can hike up or take the cable car up, which was our method that day. At the top, we walked all around the plateau and took in the views of the landscape below. It truly is gorgeous views, particularly at sunset.

As the sun started to set over the Atlantic Ocean, I noticed that the two men standing near where I was sitting with some fellow students were speaking Thai. Having just returned from six months in Thailand, including six months of intensive language, I decided to strike up a conversation. The men were selling balloon animals. My limited Thai skills didn't extend too far beyond basic conversation (or buying fruits and vegetables), but I gleaned that they had only been in South Africa a few months and were trying to make a living with their balloon creatures.

I went back to my group after a few minutes and noticed that there was a small wedding going on nearby. I was engrossed in watching the ceremony when one of the Thai men came up to me with a bouquet of balloon flowers. He was saying things I didn't understand, but I did hear the word wedding. I replied yes, that's a wedding. Then, the man grabs my hand and starts to lead me towards the wedding. At this point I had no idea what was going on. My Resident Director and several peers were looking on with curiosity and amusement. As we make our way closer to the bride and groom I start thinking I've maybe agreed to marry this man. Maybe I didn't say "yes, that's a wedding" so much as "yes I want a wedding. now. with you."

Against my better judgment I let the man and his balloon flowers lead me straight to the happy couple. The officiant stopped speaking as we approached. And just as every frightening accidental marriage scenario played through my head, the Thai man hands the bewildered bride the bouquet of balloon flowers and looks at me saying something to the effect of "wedding. flowers. for her." and that's when I realized he didn't want to marry me. He wanted me to translate while he presented a gift to the couple. So I apologized for interrupting their ceremony but that this man wanted to give them flowers on the happy occasion. They took it in stride, laughing and graciously accepting the balloons.

The Thai man thanked me, and he and his companion headed towards the next group of tourists. I walked back towards my new friends, completely stunned by what had just (almost) happened. The few who had realized what was going on were laughing. We finished up our tour of the mountain and headed back down. Incidentally, several of us went out for Thai food that night. I did not even attempt to speak to anyone in Thai. Lesson learned.

The incident, looking back, was quite funny. And in many ways it helped bridge the experience between two very different countries and cultures. It was not, however, an ego boost for my Thai language skills. 

A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall: Flood Redux Recap

I read/heard one time that most Foreign Service evacuations happen in places where there was no hint of unrest or problems. You only have to look at Tunisia and Egypt right now to see how quickly things can escalate from 0 to really bad. (Lebanon has a little more context, but that doesn't make things any less difficult.) I think this factoid is sticking in my mind because the last 36 hours have been entirely unexpected. And while I am now safe, dry, at home, and with electricity and water, I may well be among the minority in Jeddah. Here's what's happened.

On November 25, 2009, Jeddah received 90mm of rain in four hours. This unprecedented precipitation caused at least 123 deaths, destroyed thousands of buildings, and left even more residents homeless and/or stranded. The aftermath of these floods have shaped civil society in Jeddah, and perhaps even in all of KSA, for the past 14 months. I've talked about this before, but it's worth repeating now. The 2009 floods are part of Jeddawi consciousness and are not for a moment forgotten. There were calls to punish the negligent contractors and builders, to implement infrastructure upgrades, to guard against this tragedy ever happening again. I can't speak as to how much happened to improve things in those 14 months. I can only say that it wasn't enough.

On Tuesday, I woke up to pouring rain. A novelty. But we've had a few rainstorms this winter, as I've discussed. It rained hard for several hours, and the streets were a bit of a mess. Then it stopped.

On Wednesday, I woke up to pouring rain. It started before 7am. It abated slightly a couple of times, but there was significant downpour until about 3pm. Lately the city has been panicking with only a little rain. So far, if you've waited until the rains stop and then a couple hours later, the roads are passable. But this time, the rain just didn't stop. If we had a window to get home, looking back, it was early in the morning.

From my office window, I once again watched the compound become a lake. At first my most pressing concern was what our staff would eat for lunch, as we'd planned to go out (a rare occurrence). Motor pool essentially stopped operating except for dire emergencies before noon. Staff were advised to stay put, but were told they could take unscheduled leave if they felt they needed to go home.

Parts of the Chancery began flooding; FM did a good job with wet vacs and mops to staunch the flows and keep things running. All the compound's cats, victims of a recent management notice against feeding them, huddled on the front steps to try to stay dry.

Our plans to head to Medina after work, en route to Madain Saleh, started looking grim. Reports started coming in that roads were full of water and cars.

One of my staff left around 1pm to go pick his daughter up at the university. When we spoke with him two hours later, he was not far away and stuck in a parking lot, as the roads were impassable. He told us that there were submerged cars in some areas, the traffic was beyond unmanageable, and that underpasses were completely filled with water. He was staying put for the time being. (He left his car a few hours later and walked home, through waist-high water, which took several hours.)

Another colleague got word that her home had water leaking in. She advised her family to turn off the electricity and stay dry. We outfitted her in rain gear, including plastic bags over her feet, and she prepared to make the 20 minute walk home. Only a few minutes later she returned. She got to the sidewalk outside the compound but couldn't navigate the knee-high waters. She said it was horrific out there. (She attempted it later on and was able to make it home after getting a lift through the major intersection.)

The husband of a colleague left work in a less-affected part of town to get home. The 20 minute drive (on a normal day) took 3.5 hours. He was among the lucky ones.

Rumors starting flying in. A dam in the east had breached. Flash flooding. A fire at one of the malls caused by wet electric circuits. Major roads were being closed. Helicopter rescues were underway. People stopped outside hotels/furnished apartment buildings who got frustrated and rented rooms. (All true, it turns out.) Civil Defense issued a warning telling everyone to stay at home or stay put.

About 5pm there was a meeting to discuss next steps for Consulate employees. My colleagues and I scoured the web for news and were horrified by the few images/videos we found. Cars floating away down major roads. People walking through waist-deep waters. Submerged cars. We were only half surprised when we were told we'd be spending the night at the Consulate.

About this time I was really kicking myself for not bringing my suitcase for the expected trip in to work. That would have made things much more palatable.

Between the CGR, MSG house, and our employee association, we had enough food, and a makeshift but ample dinner was prepared. We all gathered in the Marine House to eat and socialize, roughly half the employees of the Consulate and assorted stranded others. The major cell networks were only slightly functioning, so calls to assess the whereabouts of colleagues, friends, and families were dropped or wouldn't go through. I was trying to track a few people and just couldn't get through.

The Warehouse team did a phenomenal job distributing mattresses and bedding. Most of the ladies bunked in the (unoccupied) Ambassador's house. We laughed, saying the representational area looked like it was turned into an orphanage. The few on-compound residents opened their homes. Men bunked at the Marine House. Some slept in offices or on couches. Even though it wasn't pleasant to spend 24 hours in work clothes and not brush my teeth or shower, I feel very fortunate to have been dry, fed, and sleeping on an actual mattress.

I didn't fall asleep until after 2:30am, but I slept for about 4 hours. At 7, we got the call to quickly grab all our stuff and head out to shuttles. They sent the first group of us out in a convoy of six vehicles, all high-clearance. Amazingly, we were home in 45 minutes. It wasn't easy going, but we were among the few vehicles on the road. Hundreds, even thousands, of abandoned cars lined every available street and lot. There was a lot of winding around; we didn't make it to a major road for 30 minutes.

Most of the flood waters in our area had receded. But not completely. You could see marks on cars that had been partially or completely submerged. Damage was evident; you could tell some had been carried by the waters to where they now were parked. Some areas still had submerged vehicles. We heard that two cars had tried to leave the night before. After 3-4 hours of circling the Consulate and being unable to get more than a street or two away, they returned.

I spoke to one of my neighbors once I got home. She had been at home all of yesterday, and she had no idea how bad things were. Our housing compound and neighborhood was spared most of the worst of things. I got home, hugged my cats, showered, brushed my teeth, put on clean pajamas, and fell into bed. The cell network was still down, so I couldn't reach colleagues/friends to see how they'd weathered the storm. I reached several later this afternoon, and everyone is home and safe. But the stories are pretty horrific. Escaping cars just in time to see them wash away. Joining throngs of stranded people to wade miles through waist-deep water. Huddling in whatever dry space they could find. 24 hour journeys. Again, I'm one of the extremely lucky ones.

I posted some links in a previous post. There's not a whole lot more information available. At least four confirmed deaths; I imagine that number will rise. I hear that helicopter and boat rescues are still ongoing. Roads are still closed. The low-lying South and East areas of Jeddah - also home to the city's poorest residents - are hardest hit. Again.

I just read that primary schools will be closed for two weeks. Not a bad idea. Intermediate and high schools will close Saturday. There are calls for a return to normal by Saturday, but I'm skeptical. We'll see.

Please keep Jeddah in your thoughts in the coming hours and days. We have yet to see the extent of the damage. I am among the lucky ones. arabnews.com seems to have the most comprehensive coverage if you're interested.

One thing's for sure: I will be packing a bag of clothes, toiletries, and necessities to keep at the office.




Updates to come...

Change of Plans

So Madain Saleh didn't happen this weekend. Instead, record and destructive rainfall happened. The 111mm in 3 hours surpassed the 90mm in 4 hours tally of 11/25/09, the date of the deadly Jeddah floods. And it didn't just rain for 3 hours. It rained for 9. After raining for 3+ the day before. needless to say the city is flooded and in a state of emergency.

Jeddah is in bad shape. we ended up spending the night at the Consulate - there was no choice. I'm home safe now, as are most if not all of my colleagues, thank goodness. but things are bad. I'm worried about the thousands of people who are in the lowest-lying and hardest-hit areas.

I will blog about it later, but I need some sleep and relaxation first. for the time being, see photos/videos here: http://www.alriyadh.com/en/article/598488/heavy-rains-hit-jeddah. Or http://arabnews.com/saudiarabia/article243514.ece.

Al Baha

This week I am lucky to have two trips inside Saudi Arabia scheduled - one for work, and one for fun. For fun, I'm joining a group of colleagues for a weekend trip to Madain Saleh - Saudi's version of Petra. More on that after Friday.

For work, I joined our Consul General on his first official visit to this small but mighty province. Al Baha is KSA's smallest province but with an estimated population larger than some Gulf states. (*cough* Bahrain.) It's a 5 hour drive (or 30 minute flight) from Jeddah. We flew; I'd like to have driven. Al Baha is geographically and climatically very different than the rest of the country - it's mountainous and has changing seasons and varied weather. On our short trip, we saw the famed fog - so thick you could barely see a car's brake lights in front of you - as well as a clear, but chilly, day. I thoroughly enjoyed the brisk weather (it probably only got down to about 45-50 degrees Fahrenheit), but everyone was decked out in winter weather gear. Most of the men had on winter jackets over their thobes, while a few sported floor-length fleece/fur overthobes (my own made up word).

The views on a clear day are absolutely spectacular. I've included a few in a photo collage here. We went up to a panoramic lookout point in Raghodan Forest, but, unfortunately, we went on the foggy day. So I missed out on the really great views. But what we saw was pretty awesome anyway! There's considerably more vegetation in Al-Baha than in most of KSA - some low, scrubby bushes/trees but also taller, conifer-like ones. I heard of olive tree farms nearby, and the honey from Al Baha is famous. We didn't go anywhere that sold either, unfortunately.

Al Baha tends to be a conservative area, but I had no problems as the only female member of the delegation. In fact, I was the only one who got to see women at all! Seriously, we did not see a single woman in the streets, in cars, in shops, in the hotel, at the university, anywhere. I have heard that's not uncommon in some parts of the country, but I had yet to experience it. I visited with a group of women at the Literary Club and was treated to the most adorable performance of a welcome song, in English, by some local schoolgirls. I gave them certificates and took pictures with them afterward (none on my camera, sadly) - it was great. The women were impressed/amused by my Arabic and kept giving me things to read (slowly). I had a great time with them, and they gave me two bouquets of flowers (see below photo). I had a wonderful time.

Perhaps the best part of Al Baha, for me, was the baboons. Those who know me know that I am an animal lover. My (two) move(s) to South Africa were based at least partly on the existence of penguins and elephants. Ditto Thailand on the elephants. I could spend weeks, even months, at a time on safari. I desperately miss wildlife living in Jeddah, so the baboons were a welcome change. They appeared at the hotel in the morning to scavenge for food. Unlike those I encountered in South Africa, these baboons were fairly small and not socialized at all - both good things! (I'll save my I-was-attacked-by-a-baboon story for another post...) I spent a good half hour walking around and taking photos and a couple videos. I think I may have to go back to Africa for my next post, simply for the proximity to national parks...

Anyway, the Al Baha trip was short and sweet, and we had some great interactions. I'll post about Madain Saleh next week!

(the photos in the collage below are pretty low-res, as a better quality copy wouldn't load here. apologies.)