Tag Archives: travel

London, Old and New

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London is the ultimate international city; everyone is drawn there, and everyone is welcome. (Well, everyone with a credit card.) Perhaps more than any other metropolis, London lays bare the schizophrenic effort required to balance the history and future of a place and a people. Walking through London is an exercise in choosing culture or couture, past or present. Every neighborhood is a young city trying to push aside the shell of the old.

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Do we really think Churchill would want to be immortalized next to a delicate tree in full bloom? I think he might’ve preferred his name on a cask of Scotch, with cigar smoke obscuring any other perspective of history.

Lord Nelson keeps a vigilant eye on the coast; never mind that you can ride a train from France, no matter the weather in the channel. He doesn’t seem to notice the even more archaic creature sneaking up behind him, distracted as he is by the Eye of London.

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Give the brits credit for trying to integrate the past with the future. Where else can you find a phone booth like this- with Wi-Fi?

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Some buildings look to the past, but many more just gleam into the future, without any granite or gargoyles, and no apologies.

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In places, the old and new are blended, with a beautiful harmony:IMG_5448

 

There is a tragic abundance of war memorials; seems such a pity that some are for wars against France, others to liberate France, and still others yet for places nobody cares about any more.

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The only “peace memorials” were statues of Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Ghandi. I liked that they were not up on grand pedestals, and were humbly life-size; I think they would’ve wanted it that way. Or maybe we are just making their humility as grandiose as Admiral Nelson’s military brilliance or Queen Victoria’s nobility,

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because that’s what we want them to be. That’s how we want to remember them.

I shouldn’t be too critical,  I like being able to buy a hot dog and an ice cream at Westminster Abbey…

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… but it does seem to detract just a little from the holiness of the place.

Once you escape the watering holes where the tourist herds gather under the watchful eye of various lions, there is a genuine vibrance in London. I found the entrance to this place of worship much more welcoming than any of the cathedrals in my guidebook:

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I also found it ironic that one of my favorite Banksy street paintings has been defaced:

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Every memory and its memorial fades eventually. London taught me that.

 

The Ozark Special

When you are stressed, tired, or just have nothing left to give, there’s nothing quite like comfort food. After trying edgy reimaginations of the classics, restaurants that try to fuse anything and everything with Asian, and international mystery plates, sometimes you crave some homemade goodness.

This past week we indulged in the travel equivalent of momma’s cookin’. For several years we have been spending a long weekend in the Ozark mountains along the Missouri/Arkansas border, and decided to go back for another helping this summer. To spice up a classic, we sent the kids off to camp and rented a cabin at Table Rock Lake. After our recent adventures, it was nice to visit someplace where the native language was (a version of) English, the food was familiar, and there was no rush to ingest every exotic moment before it faded back into the haze of “someday”.

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The verdant hills of the Ozark range are not as impressive as those farther west, but have an attainable beauty that is more apple pie, less caviar and pate’.

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Of course, any barrel has a few bad apples. We weren’t impressed with the guy driving a $400 pickup with a 4’x5′ confederate flag trailing behind, but you can find bigots and scared people with small minds anywhere. Like every place we’ve visited, people are generally kind and generous…

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The best part was a hiking trail behind our cabin that was virtually unused by anyone else; it’s like finding that hole-in-the-wall cafe where the waitress knows your name, and you can sit with your coffee for hours and feel right at home. It might not make the Michelin list, but it is special all the same.

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Comfort is the standard by which we judge newer experiences; just like momma’s cookin’, sometimes the standard is hard to beat.

Open Doors

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Saudi Arabia has undergone a generational shift that would leave the Baby Boomers’ heads spinning. Thirty years ago, it was common to live in “muddy houses” made of an adobe-like brick.

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Those same Arabs are now driving Land Cruisers and helping me get up to speed on the latest apps for our smartphones. Most Saudis have visited more places in Europe and North America than I have. This rush to catch up with western culture has inevitably left traditional Arab culture behind in some ways; only the silly visitors from outside the kingdom want to visit the old places and see the old ways!

A colleague invited me to his family “farm”. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so we brought sleeping bags and bug spray.

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Turns out that those were not necessary. This was the guest house we “camped out” in:

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Oh, it felt like roughing it in the wilderness- we only brought one iPad charger! The kids even had to share a room, and the air conditioning worked so well they were a little cold. Tragic. I was disappointed that I didn’t have the opportunity to milk a camel; maybe next time.

Our hosts took us on a tour of “Old” Saudi Arabia, which started with an open-air souq (market):

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I wanted to buy the ’63 T-bird and the black powder pistol from the Ottoman Empire era. Neither would make it through customs I suppose, so I was forced to leave them behind.

I don’t recall the name of the pastries we tried, but I will always remember the woman working over a gas-fired oven in the midst of the desert heat. Any North American would have been reduced to a puddle of sweat with a slick of sunscreen on top as the only remains.

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The old village, which was occupied only 30 years ago, is slowly melting back into the desert it was molded from. The occupants have all moved to modern housing in the small city nearby, or on to the glitzy lifestyle of Riyadh and Jeddah. The guard/guide at the entrance looked surprised to see us; I got the feeling he doesn’t typically receive many visitors when the temperature is over 110.

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An acquaintance of our acquaintance collects antiquities, and was more than happy to let us share his air conditioning and private collection. I liked the display of Arab media consumption through the past 6 decades:

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This gentleman farmer also collects birds, and led us through his garden aviary filled with birds of paradise.

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As a gift, he insisted we take two Love Birds; if only they could be fed the enormous box of dates we also couldn’t refuse, we would be in great shape for bird-caring. We accepted the birds, thinking they must have the life span of goldfish or Sea Monkeys, but it turns out they may live up to 15 years. If getting an antique Ottoman firearm through the airport would be difficult, I can’t imagine what trouble these birds will be.

 

 

Norwhere?

There should be a way to discover the places that should’ve been on the top of your list of places to visit, but weren’t. Norway is now at the top of my retroactive “I should’ve known I have to go there someday” list.

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Sure, I suspected it was cold there, and from my experience watching the Swedish chef on the Muppets, knew that the language would be easy to make fun of, but that was about it. I know, they don’t speak Swedish, but I can’t tell the difference. Anyway, I also knew that Norway has trolls, because Trollhunter was an awesome movie, and it was one of those “lost footage” pseudo-documentaries, so it must be true.

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So what could Norway reveal to earn the top spot on the Greatest-places-you-didn’t-know-you-wanted-to-go list? Like any European city, it has beautiful old churches and a sense of history that’s hard to imagine in the US.

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There is ample weird food. We ordered a hot dog and a hamburger for the kids, and got this:

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Our kids were not impressed. They ate the fries.

Culinary wrong-turns aside, the train from Oslo to Bergen was vacation travel at its best. Unlimited pizza and hot chocolate for the kids (OK I had pizza and hot chocolate too), beautiful scenery, and no security shaming/screening like you endure at the airport.

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In the middle of May, there are places in Norway still buried in snow. People were skiing on the glaciers! Of course, even Scandinavian public transportation has to submit to mother nature; a rock slide blocked the train tracks, and we were then re-routed via bus then ferry then train again. This involved 30 minutes of standing in the rain next to a stack of tires at a dubious looking dock.

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Good times!

Bergen was our final destination; this small sea-side city has loads of charm.

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I caught the biggest fish ever!

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We were fortunate enough to be in town during Norway’s Independence Day celebration. This seemed to consist of wearing traditional clothes, standing in the rain watching a parade, and drinking beer. Norway was starting to grow on me.

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Evidently Bergen has burned down a few times over the past 500 years, which isn’t surprising when you look at this fire-marshal’s nightmare arrangement of wooden buildings:

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It would probably burn down more frequently, but it does seem to rain every day. Combined with the melting glaciers, Norway must have the highest concentration of waterfalls anywhere.

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The Norwegian culture seems to embrace the strange combination of their Viking heritage and quirky troll-loving liberal modern state. On a hike to Mt Floyen, we discovered a garden of tree stumps that had been carved by chainsaw into cute (and a little creepy) sculptures.

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For a change, we didn’t stumble into this hidden glade because I was lost. My wife had been looking forward to this hike for weeks, and we had finally made it into the wild (you could almost not quite see our hotel). We were following the well-marked and thoroughly-mapped trails, when suddenly she leads us off onto a seldom-used path into the woods. Very Robert Frost. “And I, I took the one less Googled-by“.

For anyone who read JRR Tolkein before seeing the movies, you probably have a mental image of the Misty Mountains; I think Norway was the inspiration. Lonely, glacier-capped peaks shrouded in icy clouds:

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Isolated fishing villages from another time:

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Deep fjords whose depths harbor lost viking ships and cold runoff from glaciers that were old before humans set foot in Scandinavia:

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One thing that is found in Europe but missing in the suburbs of the US is the way cemeteries are integrated into the church and community in general. As morbid as it might be, Heather says there is something powerful about being reminded of your own mortality when thinking about spiritual things. I think she’s right.

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Anyone who fantasizes about living in an isolated cabin in the wilderness will be over-stimulated in Norway, especially if your fetish includes homesteads next to a waterfall, the ocean, or a mountain. You can have all 3 at once here!

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My sophisticated european friends dismissed my trip to Norway- “it’s outrageously expensive” (soda is $5 a bottle, so they have a point), “there’s nothing to do there” (if a lifetime worth of hiking, skiing, fishing, and boating doesn’t appeal to you, you probably would be bored there), “it’s cold and rainy” (no argument there).  I may never get to go back, but for next few months I’ll be annoying anyone who listens with stories about how amazing Norway is.

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Oman- California of the Middle East

There is a certain cultural undercurrent that you can sense in almost every seaside community. Living next to the ocean must instill a sense of patience, and an understanding of how small we really are. The waves have a rhythm of their own, and the pace of the tides changes for no one.

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Muscat, Oman, is one of those pearls. It sits on the southeastern coast of the arabian peninsula, and draws the fortunate triple of sun, mountains, and warm seas. When we (after a lengthy delay- for rain of all things!) finally arrived at the modest airport, the friendly customs and immigration officer was concerned that it was so late at night, and made sure we found a taxi to take us to our hotel. Upon leaving the airport, we noticed an immediate change in atmosphere- there was a salty ocean breeze, and courteous drivers were using turn signals!

The next two days were devoted to lounging on the beach, letting the sun melt away our stress and worries.

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However, the true beauty of Muscat wasn’t apparent until we left the hotel. The Omani people were as warm and inviting as the beaches, and we were constantly amazed at their desire to share their country with us. Our tour guide, Yousuf, took us to the Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, which is simply amazing.

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The people of Oman adore their Sultan. He had been out of the country for medical treatment, and just returned during our visit.

DSC_0802The streets were filled with people honking and celebrating; I never thought I’d see a woman standing up through the sunroof of a Hummer dancing- while wearing an Abaya! This brings us to the title of this post. I’m convinced that Oman is the California of the Middle East. In fact, if you turn the map just right, it even looks like California:

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Muscat is right around where Santa Monica would be. The crazy people who live in communes are found towards the top of the map (Yemen/Oregon). Dubai is a few hours’ drive through the desert away, allowing Las Vegas-like escapades. Iran is like Mexico, if the drug cartels had nuclear weapons.

The mountains of Oman are a must-see. Once again, following the SUVs into the wild:

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Jebel Shams is the “Grand Canyon of Oman”. I think our kids will mostly remember feeding dates to the goats.

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To celebrate our successful trek through the mountains, we headed out to sea. A traditional Dhow cruise comes with a new-traditional serving of Pepsi.

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To summarize the rest of the trip: souq shopping, snorkeling on a coral reef, eating a traditional Omani meal on a boat while looking for dolphins, and getting a Henna tattoo.

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On that note, one of my children exhibited his lack of impulse control when my wife suggested she get a face tattoo; he immediately, enthusiastically says “that’s a great idea!”. I’m not looking forward to the teenage years..

Another great Omani moment was when our taxi driver asked if he could take a detour. I didn’t really understand what he was saying, but agreed anyway. That habit will probably get me in trouble one day, but it paid off this time. He drove us to a point above town to watch the sunset, and showed us his home and the best places to fish. The view was worth the detour:

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I will never forget the beautiful people and scenery of Oman. Maybe after a month or a year it would all seem normal, but for one week every moment was worthy of a post-card.

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Not Exactly What We Planned…

This weekend started out very typically. I left work at 5:08, which counts as working late by the appearance of the parking lot:

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At least I missed the rush I suppose. The next morning, we packed up Sandy (our new-to-us SUV, named for her locally appropriate color) and took child #2 to Girl Scouts camp. Once again, we followed the herd of SUVs into the desert.

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Saturday, feeling twinges of responsible parenting, we decided we should go pick up child #2 from camp. Everything was going according to plan thus far, so I decided to add a little excitement to our day. Google maps put us close to an amazing stretch of sand dunes in Thumama park, the kids were all lost in their iPads anyway, and I made an executive decision to take the family exploring.

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This plan (or lack of…) probably had several flaws, but the most important was in my estimation of Sandy’s off road ability. I love the chrome 20 inch rims, but a fat 2-wheel drive bloated pig of a truck does not do well in the desert. Not surprisingly (at least in hindsight), we were soon buried to the axles in sand. No pictures were allowed at this point, so you’ll have to use your imagination. We were lucky enough to flag down a passing Bedouin in an old pickup, and that’s when our adventure really began…

After pulling us out of the sand, he motioned for us to follow him. I didn’t want to disagree and then end up as vulture bait again, so we tried to keep pace along the hardscrabble wadis, through a gap in the fence meant to keep us on the correct side of the highway, onto the highway driving the wrong direction until we reached a crossover, and so on… My long-suffering family might have been questioning my judgement at this point. I certainly was.

Soon we arrived at a modest tent with a herd of sheep and an ATV; his family was gathering, and he had invited us in. At least, I really hope he was inviting us, because otherwise we were probably the most unlikely party-crashers of all time. Since his English and my Arabic did not intersect, we may never know. Fortunately his younger brother arrived, who spoke English and was very amused at our circumstances. However, if you’ve read my previous blogs, you know what happened next.

Sheep chasing:

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Camel feeding:

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Khabsa eating:

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Arabian coffee drinking (I’m not sure the fire is actually necessary):

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And friend-making:

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Our new friends were eager to show us their corner of the desert, so off we go in their 4×4. Perhaps the coolest thing I have seen in Saudi Arabia, if not anywhere, was the desert version of an RV:

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If you want to take your 40′ camping trailer into the sand dunes, this guy with a 6-wheel drive monster truck will pull it there for you. I want one. Really.

As part of an impromptu cultural exchange, they demonstrated a folk dance, and we showed them the Texas Two-Step. There is a video, but it will only be released under great duress. Tonight we are shaking the sand out of our shoes, enjoying the air conditioning, and wondering just how lost I’ll have to get to top this one.

 

 

1001 Arabian Facts- Part 1

There are subtleties to any culture that you only notice after the glaring differences fade into normalcy. With time, patterns begin to appear out of the chaos.

For example, when you combine frequent sandstorms and elaborate lattice work, you have to hire three Indonesian guys to clean the acres of intricate woodwork:

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One of the most well-known facts about Saudi Arabia is that alcohol is illegal. However, I suspect there may be a little home-brewing going on, evidenced by the pallets of grape juice for sale at the local grocery store:

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Now I know why everyone drives SUVs with so much cargo space…

Stay tuned, at this rate I’ll have time to learn 999 more things about Saudi culture before global warming turns my villa into a beach-front paradise…  only without the margaritas.

Family Fun Day- Even More Fun Without the Kids!

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Inside this building, there must be some incredibly magnetic force for children; it’s a black hole of time (and parents money). It’s Girl Scouts Family Fun Day. I guess it makes sense that Girl Scouts aren’t going to walk around the Arabian peninsula selling cookies, so this is their yearly fund raiser.

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The great thing about Family Fun Day is that you can give your kids a handful of cash and not see them again for four hours. It’s like a foretaste of college. Then the parents get to have fun, and spend their own money…

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This was like a traditional Arab souq (market), but without the flies and pickpockets. Now that’s family fun!

 

The Edge of The World

Or “The Day I Learned That Camels Like Bananas”

Waking up the kids on a weekend takes tactical decision making. Any activity you have planned had better be well worth the drama and heartache of ruining an entire day of Xbox and compound-roaming with friends. To find the perfect weekend adventure, I cruised the internet until I found The Edge of the World. It sounds like an ominous apocalyptic prophecy, or maybe a cheesy Tom Cruise sic-fi movie, but it was near the top of TripAdvisor for Riyadh, so we made plans.
Early this morning, we harassed the munchkins and loaded them into The Beast (our rented Suburban) and headed for the rendezvous point. Fifteen minutes late, but that’s not bad for a Saturday.DSC_0263
Our amazing tour guide, Maz, advised us that the day would completely revolve around our every whim. With that new-found freedom, we voted for breakfast. This, you might guess, was not a drive-thru fast food joint:
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After enough carb-loading for a marathon, we jumped back in the truck for the 80 mile drive into the desert. I was glad we had hired Maz, as the directions I found on the internet included references to GPS coordinates and bringing extra supplies. As it turns out, once we were in the vicinity, we could’ve just followed the herd of SUVs:
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Along the way, we crossed paths with the other indigenous species of Saudi Arabia, the camel. Our guide expertly paralleled the nearest group, and lured them over with a banana:
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He was then rewarded with a kiss. I think he had mixed feelings about the camel’s amorous overtures.
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The other camels soon figured out the scam, and wanted in on the action…
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and wouldn’t take “I have no more bananas” for an answer..
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Before the kids could really amp up the “are we there yet” chorus, we reached the end of the trail. No signs, no ranger stations, and certainly no guard rails or amenities. The hiking and views were, however, world-class.
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We discovered an invasive species of mountain goat that is notorious for leaving granola-bar wrappers strewn throughout their habitat:
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Most importantly, we had quality family time without losing anyone to a long free-fall.
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Maz gave us a bucket list of places to visit in the Arabian peninsula, and we can’t wait to take everyone along via the blog. Saudi Arabia doesn’t issue visitor visas, so we are looking forward to unspoiled wilderness and many opportunities to ruin our kids’ weekend social lives.

The More Things Change…

It is amazing how similar life in Saudi Arabia can be to North America. The shorter members of the family start school tomorrow, so we’ve been school supply shopping. All the supplies were familiar; the primary difference was handing our list to a nice Pakistani man who found everything for us and filled our cart. You don’t find that kind of service at Wal-Mart! The bookstore that was recommended to us is a popular chain here; sort of the Barnes & Noble of the Middle East. I was expecting a dozen rows of different Qurans, which they had:

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However, the next row over was a little less conservative:

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I think the religious police must not read in English, because this stuff is even offensive to us lewd Americans!

Another familiar experience this week; the president visits, and traffic is a mess. He didn’t stop by to say hello while he was in town, but I did get some quality time staring at the bumper of the truck in front of me while the highway was closed.

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Not surprisingly, people were honking constantly, because that usually helps in a traffic snarl like this. It gave me some time to think about how much of my tax money was being spent on this little trip of the POTUS. In the end, I was able to smile at the symmetry; we both ended up in Saudi Arabia trying to balance our budgets. At least I didn’t have to spend the afternoon with Nancy Pelosi, which makes this view of the Toyota in front of me seem OK after all.