Morning, Cloudy, New
April 5th, 2005
To answer the questions of those that may wonder…yes the Middle East does have daylight savings time. I was late for my bus and inadvertently missed a day of school because of this transgression. Oh well, I need another day of adjustment anyway.
All things considered it takes me about six days to return to the Arab world. Three days of depression and straight sleeping due to travel, time change, and plain old missing my friends, family, and the western world. After the initial three days, it takes me another three days of staying inside and watching TV, cleaning, doing laundry; mostly just avoiding outside. After these six days I feel ready to take on the Arab world again. Maybe a more seasoned traveler can jump in-between cultures and places with little to no lag time but I am nothing close to a seasoned traveler. I am just a regular guy and regular guys need regiment and a sense of structure. Coming from a place that I feel is more structured to a place that seems to have little structure shocks my system a bit.
I know this place more now than before and I know there is definitely a system of structure here. But as one of my inner-city students told me once in Denver, if you aren’t in the gang and they don’t know you, then their world isn’t the same as yours even if you live next door. It is somewhat the same here. I am not a part of this world but an observer of it. No matter how many years I live here, or how well I can speak the language I will never be seen or treated as a part of the Arab world. If I married and stayed here, then my children would have a chance to be seen as a part of this world, but even then they would still be seen as outsiders due to appearance, education, and economic status. Much the same happens in England or the US where first generation immigrants are never seen as Americans or Britons, but with time and blending they all fit in eventually.
Chris and I discussed this at length one night where he told me in England it is the immigrant from India or Pakistan that moves in and usually isn’t accepted because of wearing a turban and having a heavy accent. Maybe their children are less traditional and more modern, and by the third generation they have full English accents and are drinking pints down at the pub. I guess in all places one must look and play the part to be considered an actor on the stage.
We have a family of cats taking up residence on our balcony since I left. Yellow tomcats; a male and two females I think. One of the females is pregnant or wounded because she acts lazy, moves slowly and is extremely noisy. Maybe she is in heat. Anyway, cats are like rats around here so I keep scaring them off the balcony. I have resorted to hosing them down since chasing them off doesn’t work. “You don’t have to go home, you just can’t stay here!” I sound like their bartender. If they keep coming back I am going to pee all over every way they climb onto the deck and take back my territory the old-old-school way. I love cats. I hate mange.
The things I deal with hear are so random and foreign to life back home. Being a minority doesn’t bother me at all after living and working in downtown Denver for so long, but I hate being stared at. I don’t know if I ever mentioned to anyone that staring here is an acceptable thing to do. I get stared at everywhere I go. And having long hair and a bear just blows these peoples tops, especially the villagers. City folk see you and just think you’re a foreigner. Villagers see you and think you are some kind of alien. I guess if I went into the back woods or the deep south they’d think the same things. Anything different is scary, even for me.
(ten minute break)
I just finished hosing down the cats again. The male was spraying my windowsill right next to where I was typing. Change of plan. Next time I see that little bastard I am going to pee on HIIM. I don’t like wild cats…they’re too smart. Well I’m off to drink some water to get ready for my next attack. Wish me luck!
To answer the questions of those that may wonder…yes the Middle East does have daylight savings time. I was late for my bus and inadvertently missed a day of school because of this transgression. Oh well, I need another day of adjustment anyway.
All things considered it takes me about six days to return to the Arab world. Three days of depression and straight sleeping due to travel, time change, and plain old missing my friends, family, and the western world. After the initial three days, it takes me another three days of staying inside and watching TV, cleaning, doing laundry; mostly just avoiding outside. After these six days I feel ready to take on the Arab world again. Maybe a more seasoned traveler can jump in-between cultures and places with little to no lag time but I am nothing close to a seasoned traveler. I am just a regular guy and regular guys need regiment and a sense of structure. Coming from a place that I feel is more structured to a place that seems to have little structure shocks my system a bit.
I know this place more now than before and I know there is definitely a system of structure here. But as one of my inner-city students told me once in Denver, if you aren’t in the gang and they don’t know you, then their world isn’t the same as yours even if you live next door. It is somewhat the same here. I am not a part of this world but an observer of it. No matter how many years I live here, or how well I can speak the language I will never be seen or treated as a part of the Arab world. If I married and stayed here, then my children would have a chance to be seen as a part of this world, but even then they would still be seen as outsiders due to appearance, education, and economic status. Much the same happens in England or the US where first generation immigrants are never seen as Americans or Britons, but with time and blending they all fit in eventually.
Chris and I discussed this at length one night where he told me in England it is the immigrant from India or Pakistan that moves in and usually isn’t accepted because of wearing a turban and having a heavy accent. Maybe their children are less traditional and more modern, and by the third generation they have full English accents and are drinking pints down at the pub. I guess in all places one must look and play the part to be considered an actor on the stage.
We have a family of cats taking up residence on our balcony since I left. Yellow tomcats; a male and two females I think. One of the females is pregnant or wounded because she acts lazy, moves slowly and is extremely noisy. Maybe she is in heat. Anyway, cats are like rats around here so I keep scaring them off the balcony. I have resorted to hosing them down since chasing them off doesn’t work. “You don’t have to go home, you just can’t stay here!” I sound like their bartender. If they keep coming back I am going to pee all over every way they climb onto the deck and take back my territory the old-old-school way. I love cats. I hate mange.
The things I deal with hear are so random and foreign to life back home. Being a minority doesn’t bother me at all after living and working in downtown Denver for so long, but I hate being stared at. I don’t know if I ever mentioned to anyone that staring here is an acceptable thing to do. I get stared at everywhere I go. And having long hair and a bear just blows these peoples tops, especially the villagers. City folk see you and just think you’re a foreigner. Villagers see you and think you are some kind of alien. I guess if I went into the back woods or the deep south they’d think the same things. Anything different is scary, even for me.
(ten minute break)
I just finished hosing down the cats again. The male was spraying my windowsill right next to where I was typing. Change of plan. Next time I see that little bastard I am going to pee on HIIM. I don’t like wild cats…they’re too smart. Well I’m off to drink some water to get ready for my next attack. Wish me luck!
posted by chris @ Friday, April 22, 2005
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