Love and Rainy Days

A couple days ago marked the second rainy Sunday in a row here in Moscow. June has been very wet and cold here, which, of course, makes me miss home a little. It also makes me point and laugh at my friend's status updates on facebook complaining about the heat. The jury is still out on whether or not I'm a fan of this.

I own an umbrella now! Well, I think I've always owned at least half a dozen umbrellas left in places I didn't need them. Like, my car when I'm in the office. Or my apartment when I'm in my car. You get what I'm sayin. But now, I go out armed with an umbrella to get through June's rainy days.

Owning an umbrella is not as easy as it sounds. Back home, you just make a mad dash for your car and an umbrella only slows you down and gets buckets of rain in your car, so having a reliable umbrella has never been an issue for me. Cheapest, please. (Which, of course, means "stolen from Mom and Dad's house when I visit". It's alright, I take one and two more replace it, I'm sure...love you Dad!) I really think that this is the first time I've ever had to buy an umbrella. And they're expensive here in Moscow!

So, thinking I could outsmart everyone, I bought a $3 umbrella in Dubai. I am a clever girl. And it was blue with white stars. I would say it makes me look American, but the Russians love colored/themed umbrellas, so I look more Russian than anything.

I did NOT look Russian last Sunday, on my way to church. It was raining, my umbrella matched my outfit, I was set. And then the wind came. And my umbrella went to shit. I'm walking down the sidewalk, balancing my bag, umbrella handle and half of my flimsy covering that has completely caved in. Thats a lot to be paying attention to, so there really isn't any room to pay attention to giant puddles that have formed on the sidewalk. Basically, if you can't get a visual, I'm a mess.

But my iPod is playing NeedtoBreathe, and I'm feeling pretty optimistic. Cold? No, alive. Wet? No, experiencing.

I'm probably a good 15 minute walk from church, and my umbrella did that thing where it turns inside out one last time. By the time I finish struggling to put it back in place, one of the metal frames has come unhooked, and is now dangling dangerously close to my face. Convinced at this point that I was going to gouge my eye out, or get my hair tangled in this death trap, I did what any normal human being would do and I made a frustrated groan (probably too loud, since I was still jammin' to my iPod...), wrestled with it to get it to close and stuffed it into a trash can next to a bus station where two babushkas sat comfortably waiting for their bus.

Are you getting this picture? Because if you still can't see it, imagine a Chris Farley-esque scene wrestling with a broken umbrella. Even I couldn't help but laugh. At myself.

I survived the rest of the way to church on a light drizzle. And as soon as I got back to the Metro station, I stopped and bought the most expensive umbrella I have ever purchased. 600 rubles ($20) total. But, I inspected it very well, and didn't get the most expensive one, so I felt better about buying it. What I was inspecting for, I wasn't sure, but the wiring looked sturdy and it fit in my purse, so I left a happy customer.

It ended up being a good day. You can't not smile when you get win any battle, even if it is with a flimsy opponent, in my case, an umbrella. And I've even started to like walking in the rain with my new, much sturdier umbrella. It never fails to make me smile and think about that story.

Cheers to the things that protect us from the elements. Whether they work or just make us smile.

Love and Ballet

We got back to Moscow on Friday, the 25th and on Sunday, joined a couple who have become good friends of ours here at the ballet!

I knew when we made the plans to go to the ballet that it would lead to a blog. If anything, to prove to naysayers that we're cultured, damn it. But the experience had a completely different affect than I thought it would. And I blame a new baby bug.

The ballet was located in the Kremlin, so we got there a little early and took a lovely stroll through the gardens and historic buildings. It would have been more lovely had I worn comfortable shoes, but even coming close to breaking my ankles couldn't distract from the smell of lilac and the green all around.

Once we got inside and to our seats, we saw that we would be sitting behind at least three rows of little girls, sandwiched occasionally by an adult. The girls were distracted, restless and assumedly going to be a pain for us adults who could really appreciate sitting through a professional ballet. I think we all rolled our eyes at our luck. Any open seats elsewhere, maybe? The lights dimmed, the announcement to turn off your cell phones played and the orchestra got situated. All while every single girl sat fidgety and uncomfortable.

But then, the most beautiful thing happened. The lights went out, the curtain was drawn and the first of the dancers came on stage. And every single little girl leaned forward, some crossing their arms on the seat in front of them and resting their head, and they sat, completely engrossed in the beauty of being a ballerina.

Now, I don't remember if I have ever dreamed of being a ballerina, but I do remember childhood dreams of what and who was beautiful and how I wanted to be like that. I think, specifically, it was Vana White. I definitely wanted to be Vana White on Wheel of Fortune. Who knew she would never age and need a successor. (I was waiting, patiently...) I wondered if the cast knew about these little girls up on the balcony, completely absorbed in their talent, beauty and story. I hope that they do. I hope those women on stage feel like princesses and act accordingly so that many more princesses follow in their footsteps. (or tippi-toeing)

It made me think of our new niece. Before we left for Dubai, we got the news that we had become an Aunt and Uncle! We were so thrilled with the news and pictures and instantly began planning how we would get candy-filled drum sets to little baby bug (her new nickname, compliments of Uncle Hubs). But now, I started to think about the little girl turned young lady turned woman she would become and how lucky we are as Crazy Uncle Hubs and Crazy Aunt Me to be a witness to it. And I thought about how lucky we would be if we have children one day and were witnesses to their story. (that day is far, far, far in the future, so lets not read too much into that statement, k?)

What a beautiful thing to see children dream out loud. It was almost a better show in front of us than on stage. And how lovely to have such a beautiful addition to our family to teach us for years to come.

Cheers to baby bug! Welcome to a big world at your disposal. Watch, live and enjoy. (And we eat dessert before dinner when you've over at your aunt and uncles house...)

Love and Tea Time

Everyone told us that we had to have High Tea at the Burj al Arab while we were visiting Dubai. Being the Americans we are, we weren't sure why having tea would cost so much, but we were assured that it is the best experience and that we cannot leave Dubai without doing it.

So, we put it off. I still wasn't entirely convinced. But, one of Hub's classmates went over the weekend during training and raved about it, so we were sold. She, like everyone else talks about the never-ending tea, the seven-course meal and the great view from one of the highest buildings in the city, right on the beach. Sounds perfect, right? And we were on vacation, so we can splurge, right?

First, I called in to make my reservation and they were all booked for the High Tea on the top floor. But Afternoon Tea on the atrium level was still available. So we booked the tea that comes with a "complimentary" glass of champagne and I informed them that we were on our honeymoon, hoping for some extra perks. It's not a lie nor an act. We are in a permanent state of honeymooning. Hubs, who I am convinced cannot even fib if it would save his life, was instantly nervous that someone would quiz us on our marital status and was uncomfortable with the whole setup. He's lucky to have me to cover that stuff.

We took a cab to the Burj and actually had to show a security guard at the gate our reservation and he checked us in. Fancy. We pull up to the front, circling a pretty extravagant fountain. Fancy. We walk inside, greeted by a team of staffers dressed in traditional silk dresses and vests. Fancy. Deeper inside, there are even more fountains, putting on a real show. Fancy. The escalator takes us upstairs alongside a giant fish tank filled with exotic fish. Fancy.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Hubs gets a little uncomfortable. I know he's uncomfortable because under his breath, he swears that if anyone looks at him funny, or tells him he doesn't belong there, he's kick their ass. To which I tell him that he's wearing khakis, for goodness sakes. Who on earth would kick out the guy wearing khakis? Not to mention the fact that every single person we've passed by has smiled and welcomed us. But, I will agree that there is something about fancy fountains and afternoon tea that is unsettling.

We order tea, and the food starts coming. Everyone was right, it is delicious. Delicious, but miniature. The sandwiches were amazing. Petite little guys on different varieties of bread, all stacked neatly on silver platters. Next, a slice of chicken with gravy and a squirt of mashed potatoes. Delicious, but miniature. And then, the desserts. At least four of the seven courses were the most decadent desserts I have ever tasted. Chocolate, shortbread, tarts galore! By the end, we were so full of sweets, we couldn't handle another bite. That's what people were talking about when they said it was a full meal. Kind of deceiving, but delicious nonetheless.

We finished our first glass of champagne and were offered another. Thinking that they would be comping our glass because we are, after all, honeymooning in Dubai this weekend. But, no such luck. And we spent more on our two refill glasses than we did on the entire case of champagne we bought for the wedding. (True story.) That may not be a good way of describing how expensive our refills were, since we did buy the cheapest champagne for the wedding, but you get the idea.

I think we did pretty well for being completely out of our element. I think the key was the whole "honeymooning fib". We maintained our dangerous, adventurous side, all while sharpening our prim and proper "which fork do I use for what" side. In the end, they gave us a red rose to celebrate our wedding. Don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful rose, and the experience was wonderful, I'll never forget it. But it made me think of a time while Hubs and I were still dating and he got me flowers. He had worked 24 hours out of town and stopped by to see me at work on his way home to give to me Texas wildflowers he had pulled over on a tired, country road and picked for me. He said that every time he passed by them, he thought of me and had to bring some back. He truly is the sweetest, most thoughtful man, whether he's giving me a red rose at an expensive Afternoon Tea or whether he's giving me a splash of colorful wildflowers on a Saturday I had to work.

Cheers to the grand life. Expensive, average or simple, and always filled with love.

Love and a Good Price

I'll give everyone one hint on what they're getting for Christmas and every other gift-giving occasion for the rest of forever...

It starts with "Madame, I give you good price!"

The souks were my favorite shopping. Particularly the spice souk. But the competition is tough. Imagine being one of a hundred small stores selling the exact same thing, all in less than a 500 meter radius. Not that there aren't endless customers coming from cruise lines, tours and Trip Advisor.



Luckily, I had learned some tricks from an AWO friend here in Moscow who had lived in Dubai. 1. Always pretend that you live in Dubai and will bring people to their shop if they give you a good price, 2. Never take an item for more than half of their initial offer, 3. Don't be afraid to walk away. I was pretty nervous because I HATE haggling prices. Hate it. The only time I am good at it is when I don't actually want what they're selling.




I always took the metro to the Textile Souk, got a cup of delicious tea, sat on the creek and soaked up the busy, hectic energy of the place. From there, I would take an Abra ride across the creek to the Spice Souk. Abras were another favorite part of Dubai. For only 1 dirham ($.30), you climbed in a boat with a bunch of other people and took a five minute journey across the creek to the other side. The Abra boats are pretty primitive. The rubber is controlled with some rope and pulleys and the driver is in the center of the boat, literally on top of the engine. But as you're going down the creek, you get a cool breeze and can soak up the scenery and the fact that you're in another world.

Once you get to the Spice Souk, the smells and colors can be overwelming. You're instantly greeted with handfuls of spices to smell, compliments of the gentleman doing the selling. They try everything from explaining spices, offering taste tests and quizzing you on your spice knowledge. Teas, spices, oils, you name it, they've got it. When Hubs and I first went, we nearly made ourselves sick on taste tests. Seemed as though every shop we went into offered us a candy that was an almond inside a date covered in chocolate. I took them all, Hubs stopped. Mostly because he's way more polite than me and felt that he was taking from the venders who thought they would sell us with a treat we had never tried. I, on the other hand, love chocolate. There are no rules in obtaining it. So, I politely stepped in and graciously accepted mine and his share, practically eating my weight in the stuff.

We made some friends, too! Our favorite was a shop had quite a few men working and all of them were fascinated with Hubs. We took pictures with them and they teased each other for being so short. Their selection was fantastic and they answered all of our questions about how to cook with each of the spices and which teas were the best. It was better than Pinterest. Of course, mostly they said that you season your kebabs or chicken with it, but it was enough for me. And one sold me on cloves by saying it was best mulled with red wine and lemon peel. Can't wait to try it. Also, not sure how he knows this since Muslims don't drink, but those are the things you can't possibly think about when you're caught up in the moment. Or when you start thinking about red wine.

I went back often while Hubs was at training. It kept me away from the malls but still got me outside of the hotel. And I loved it. It really is a thing of beauty, the creek as a backdrop for bright, colorful fabrics and tantalizing scents. I felt like quite the world traveler and I was addicted to the tea and friendly people. Even if they were friendly just because they wanted me to buy their pashmina scarves...

And it makes me happy to think that ten years from now, I'll smell some of these spices somewhere, maybe a friend's kitchen, maybe the supermarket, maybe India or somewhere exotic and I can be taken back to this special time with Hubs. And, come to find out, I got to relive it already since I packed the spices between clothes in our suitcase. In fact, I may be still missing some spices, since we still can't fully unpack, so when we move into our permanent apartment, I get to relive it some more!

Cheers to the crazy places we find. Or that find us.

Love and Messy Eating

I love food. I particularly love street food, and any local cuisine I can get my hands on. And in Dubai, I could literally get my hands on local food. (har, har...)

Hands down, the best dining experience I had on my solo, exploratory adventures was this amazing cafeteria close to the Spice Souk by the creek. I would have pictures, but I forgot my iPhone at the hotel. (remember in the previous blog about our flight home, I had other things to worry about...) All of my pictures were on that iPhone because I didn't want to look touristy, so in a couple months, when we go back to Dubai, I'll retrieve the phone and update this blog with pictures...

I was so tired of eating at the overpriced restaurants close to our hotel. Even the food court food at the mall were an average of $10-15. And, even though the food was good, it was usually a kebab and I pretty much had my fill of kebabs day and night. Plus, I think it's a good practice to eat where the locals eat anytime you're in a new place. It's something Anthony Bourdain does, and it got him a few hit tv shows and multiple book deals, so whats the worse that could happen?

This cafeteria was super local. I walked in and everyone stared. Notice, I did not say stopped. They continued eating (with their hands, mind you), but all eyes were on me. I've found that the best way to avoid an uncomfortable situation like this one, is to pretend it's not uncomfortable. It doesn't always work, but in this case it did because I was escorted upstairs and into a separate room for families and women.

(*side note: there are a lot of things that have separate spaces for women and children only and it's not to isolate or treat harshly. It's for the woman's comfort level. South Texas will understand, since there are certain places and people who think that leering is ok when a woman walks by and it's not fun for us. So, the women, who are taught extreme modesty by the teachings of Islam, can choose to be in a space reserved for them away from creepers. It's not that they aren't allowed in the other spaces, it's a matter of preference and they do have a choice in the matter.)

The server who helped me was great! He spoke a little English and fixed me up with the house specialty, which I still don't know what its called. Within minutes, I had a chilled soup of curd, cilantro, carrot shavings, finely chopped onion and chives. There were no actual curds in it, it was just the milk from it. Sounds so gross, I know, but when you've stepped inside from the 120 degree weather outside, it is the most delicious, refreshing thing. Ever. Also refreshing when your mouth is ON FIRE from the hot curry that you generously douse your plate in...

They kept it coming, dropping off a plate of rice, a small bowl of red curry, larger bowl of green curry (both with veggies) and two hunks of chicken. He also brought me a bottle of water, despite the pitcher of water already at the table. And even though I wanted to be local and authentic, I didn't complain.

The rice. Oh, delicious rice. It was flavored with all sorts of spices, but the only one I could really place were cloves. I can place these because it was very strange to feel like you're bighting down on a small piece of a tree branch while eating rice and that tree branch sliver be so packed with flavor. Throw in the curry and rip chunks of chicken straight off the bone and eat with your hand. Luckily, I had gone to the cultural presentation, so I knew how to eat with my hands. You should only use your right hand and on your right hand, your thumb, pointer and middle finger. Way harder than it sounds. My ring finger and pinky got a little messy at times, but for the most part I did good. That dollup of curry keeps it all together for the most part.

About halfway into my amazing meal, my server came back with half a plateful of rice and just scooped it on my plate. As I kept eating, I couldn't help but wonder who in the restaurant hadn't finished their meal, providing me with seconds, but I just keep eating through the disgusting thought.

As I was finishing up, my server returned with my check on a plate full of what looked like seeds and some colorful candies that reminded me of "nerds". Wanting to make sure I got the full experience, I asked it I eat it and he said that it was sweet and meant for eating. So, I dug in, grabbed a handful and tried it. So. Delicious. It was almost like a licorice flavor, so probably not for everyone, but it was a perfectly sweet but not sweet ending to my meal.

Total cost? 15 dirham ($5)

I went back another time and had the same experience, only now I knew to ask for tea. They serve a tea on the streets in that area that is absolutely delicious! Horrible for you, I'm sure, but delicious just the same. If I had to guess, I would say that it is regular black tea with loads of sweetened, condensed milk. Maybe because I ordered tea, maybe because I came back, or maybe because it wasn't sold out that day, I got another dish. Some type of cold salad. No idea what it was or what was in it. Fairly certain it was some type of stuffed grape leaves, but cannot confirm. I just eat what the locals give me. I also earned a spicy sauce. I think it was called pickled mangos or something. It was red pepper paster with pickled mangos. At least, that's my guess. It was a little salty for me, and I preferred the red curry for my spice, but I was still pretty proud to earn the right to use it.

Cheers to the local flavors and their hospitality. Totally worth the trip.

Love and Free Fallin'

I have a bad enough time in planes. In the last three months alone, I've seen my share of experiences, so I don't really feel like I'm in a good place to jump out of one anytime soon/ever.

So, when Hubs suggested we head out with some of his new friends to try a simulated skydiving experience from the comforts of a mall, I was all in. Who wouldn't want to go into a giant plastic container with fans blowing air on you with enough force to make you "fly"? Sounds better to me than actually jumping out of a plane and flying, and it placated Hubs desire to actually jump out of a plane and fly. For now.

We got in, paid the fee and suited up for our big adventure. I have to admit that I was getting a little newvous. I make it a habit to question any activity that repeatedly asks if you have heart problems or shoulder injuries. And I mean, repeatedly. We had to take a class and they asked us some more about any heart issues or injuries, and we all answered that we were fine. We answered a little less confidently, but answered nonetheless.



Once we learned the signs our instructor would be giving us to be in proper flying position, we went to the pod where we would take flight. First couple people went and I watched diligently so that I wouldn't make the same mistakes as they did. The last thing I needed was to get flustered because I couldn't get in the right position while levitating over some high powered fans. Nonetheless, when I did get into the pod, it only took five seconds for me to be a mess. Straighten your legs. Head up. Bend your knees. Head up. Relax. Arms out. Straighten your damn legs! (all of this was signed, so I had no way of knowing if the last piece of instruction was that forceful, but I would've said it had I been the instructor...)

And I slobbered all over myself. I knew this would happen. It happens every time I get on a fast roller coaster, too. Wind blowing in my face with my mouth wide open, screaming my fool head off means slobber everywhere. So gross. Poor Hubs wanted to give me a big hug after I survived my turn, but I was one big drooley mess. Honestly, next to my horrible luck with planes and fear of heights, drooling on myself while falling through the sky is another reason I've never wanted to skydive. Because if it does kill me, I would rather die fairly put together. Not with drool all over my face. And I would feel bad for the instructor, who may get some on him.

Hubs did fantastic! The tube barely fit him, but he made it happen. Proof, yet again, that I married a rockstar. And he didn't drool all over himself. My hero.

We had two turns each to fly, it was a great experience. We laughed the whole time. I'm sure that a lot of people did. Especially while we were walking around the mall in our windblown hair.

You hear the phrase "opposites attrack" often these days. That typically you have a wild one, and a cautious one and between the two they balance out. Not Hubs and I. We balance each other out with two different kinds of crazy and I love it.

Cheers to our different kinds of crazy and the flights that they take us on.

Love and Culture

Hate to break up the hilariousness that usually goes with this blog, this one is a bit more serious, but worth the read.

While Hubs was in training, I was responsible for entertaining myself, which usually meant shopping, as you will read in a future blog dedicated to shopping in its entirity. But there were a couple days that I was able to attend a cultural presentation given Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding. I cannot say enough good things about this organization. I participated in three activities, a cultural breakfast, lunch and tour of the Jumeirah Mosque.

I had the same presenter for the two meals and he was wonderful. I guess I was expecting something a little more formal and stringent to some type of rules and appropriate behavior, but he did an excellent job of creating a comfortable atmosphere and all but begged us to ask the questions, PC or not. He mostly focused on dress, food/hospitality and the treatment of women and his facts were based in large part on his own experience in the UAE with his own family and were told with a pleasant blend of honesty and humor which made us all a little more comfortable.

The thing that really hit home throughout the presentations is how we have our ideas about Islam and Muslims that encompass an entire population and can be less than positive to say the least. Certainly, I understand that we have troops risking their lives in what extremist Muslim groups lable a jihad, and it turns my stomach to think of the how women are treated in parts of the world in the name of Islam, but we have to also remember that they are extremist groups. Kind of like how I wouldn't want to be lumped in the same group as women who wear too much mascara and cry on tv, only to be caught stealing money from the organization. Nor would I want anyone to assume that I dress in white robes and burn crosses at night in the name of "Protestant Christian values". To us, as Americans, the association seems ridiculous. We see a variety of groups and co-exist with the exception of an occasional riot or clinic burning. But unfortunately, our views of Islam and Muslim people immediately conjur thoughts of oppression, suicide bombings and women's oppression.

If you really look at the Five Pilars of Islam, and Q'uran text, Islam is a very peaceful religion. It's turned into a small project of mine to really dig into it more and debunk the stereotypes that we have created and continue to feed. This may be a reoccurring subject in future blogs.

The theme of each presentation seemed to be that people are people. It's such a great thought that instead of being intimidated by the local dress and see it as a threat when women or men cover their head, we should instead see it as a way of creating equality. In worship, they stand shoulder to shoulder, all age, rank and status and just pray. You would never know by position in the mosque or by dress who was a prince and who was beggar on the street corner. It really is the way it should be, right? We live in an age of status and appearance. How refreshing to see it not be a priority.

As far as women's rights are concerned, I was very impressed. Women in the UAE drive, work and are allowed the same luxuries as men. (This is not the case in some Muslim countries, such as Saudi Arabia) And their clothing is steeped in tradition based on the writings in the Q'uran and needs based on climate. It really did make sense. And did you know that when getting married, the dowry is actually given from the husband to the wife? He actually pays his bride and is not allowed to touch it. The man is expected to provide, so whatever his wife makes is hers, he isn't supposed to touch it without her permission.

It was at this point that I asked a question about resources for women if there is domestic violence in the home. I mean, any group can say that they are peaceful and respectful towards women, but there are bad apples everywhere. Our presenter responded by saying that there are no shelters in the area. That the women will call their family, who will in turn protect her from her husband if he is hurting her. He said that he has actually gotten a call from his sister at 3am and made it to her house at 3:05am to tell her husband that he would seriously regret laying a finger on her. After the family is through with the batterer, he is then convicted in court. (Hubs is an adamant supporter of this way of doing things...)

Negative facts are everywhere, you don't need to look far if you want to argue these things. But why waste time?  I only talk about this experience to say that we should be aware that the crime is not in the dress. It's not in the prayers. It's not in Ramadan. It's not a pilgrimage to Mecca. The crime should not be every follower of Islam's burden to bear. It is hearbreaking to see the mass chaos and killing at the hands of Islam extremist groups, but it's not the end of the story. The cultural center emphasizes "Open doors. Open minds" and I applaud them for that. Through their efforts, people are better able to understand the good.

At the end of the presentation, I asked our presenter what I could do. Here we had just eaten a delicious meal, been given in some cases a story completely different than the one we had been told previously, we can't just leave it at that. I wanted to know what the center really wanted to accomplish, what they needed. I started with, "Hi, my name is Sarah and I'm from America, but I live in Moscow and I'm here for my husband for two more weeks. What can I do?" He said, "Write." No joke! I didn't tell him I have a blog or I love to write, he said thats what they need. So this is me doing something. Something that they hope everyone who attends these presentations does. Pretty crazy how things work like that.

Cheers to people who spread the good. We could all learn a lesson.