Our Zoo

We've never really been a pet family.  We once had a gold fish, or a series of gold fish, but they never lived longer than a day or two, much to our girls' disappointment.  I think their names were Ariel, Ariel II and Ariel III.

The girls' were passionate about getting another fish once we got settled into our new home here.  They were thrilled when we arrived, jet lagged and travel worn, to friends' house here and were greeted by their very own fish, picked up the day before in anticipation of our arrival.  They were given the names Ariel (surprise!) and Goldy.  Well, it would seem Goldy preferred to live along and sadly made quick work of his bowl mate.  We were down to one fish when we moved to our new apartment.

A couple months passed and we were awed by Goldy's resilence to the point of purchasing additional pets. The great thing about pets here is that they are cheap, only $2 or so for turtles. J had some good memories of having turtles growing up so we thought we would give them a whirl. They were super cute in the pet store and looked like they needed rescuing.  That and we weren't super confident about rescuing the caged monkey in the same store. With the help of our friends Kennedy and Emma we named them Shelby and Sheldon.  They have given our girls hours of entertainment.

When grandma and grandpa came we picked up some chicks from the local market ($0.40 each).  Henceforth, we shall blame J's mom for that.  She was a farm girl after all. The girls loved them but it was a little too cold on the balcony (and no, it is not weird for people to keep chickens, pigeons, ducks or even goats on their balconies or roof tops) and within a few days they met their demise.  An unfortunate side affect was that daughter #1 discovered where chicken meat came from and has since become vegetarian in honour of her late pets.

Last week we inherited a couple of hamsters, Squeaky and Fluffy, to petsit over the summer while our friends are travelling.  The girls are over the moon about the hamsters.  J, not so much.  Our house keeper even less so.  When she asked how long we were going to keep them I thought she might ask for a holiday for the next few months.

I guess all that too say, we are officially a zoo!  So far we have resisted #3's request for a camel or a donkey.....

LLO #3 - Always Buy Multiples

I'm a creature of habit and for as long as I (D) can remember my breakfast has consisted of toast with peanut butter and honey.  Mmmm.  Its just not breakfast without peanut butter.  So I was pleasantly surprised to discover locally made peanut butter is very reasonable, approximately $1 for a 300ml jar versus the imported PB which is $10-$15 per 300ml.  Sure the local stuff has a more o'natural flavour, like the stuff you would get at a health food store in Canada, you have to stir it every time you use it and it certainly doesn't have any sugar in it but it makes me feel like I chose the healthier route and for a fraction of the price of the imported stuff.

For the first few months my shelves were well stocked with PB until one fateful day I went to the supermarket and the PB shelf was gone, not just bare, but gone.  There was no PB to be found anywhere. That day I learned a very important lesson about living overseas:

If you see something that you'll need again, might need again, or even think you might need again ... buy it and buy a bunch.

Last month we found rice crackers for the first time. We bought 20 boxes.  When we explained to the grocery clerk why we were buying so many he just laughed and said another foreigner had been there the day before and bought twice as many.  

After a month or so without my beloved PB J brought me a very sweet present ... American PB!!  It was around $12 for a small jar and I savoured every spoonful.  Last week I was nearing the bottom of the jar ... when we made a great discovery, local PB was back on the shelf.  This time we bought enough jars to last us well into winter!

LLO #2 - Goodbyes are Frequent

As the school year draws to a close we've started to notice an interesting phenomenon that will likely to  become all too common in the years ahead living overseas.  In our Canadian experience the end of school marks a big celebration and beginning of school holidays.  For expats living in foreign lands the end of school marks a sadder note, goodbyes.

Of #1's nine classmates, two are leaving permanently and one will leave before the end of school with plans to potentially return in the fall.  Essentially 1/3 of #1's class will be new in September.  Already this year her class has been a revolving door with several classmates leaving for months at a time before returning again.  Even though we've only been here nine months, goodbyes are becoming all too common.

As adults we understand the global nature of the world and how easily we can migrate from one country to another.  We understand how necessary moving is for most lines of work.  In the first ten years of our relationship J & I lived in ten different homes across three countries and several cities.  We understand and can rationalize why we need to say goodbye so often but its different for the girls.

Already #2 is counting down the days till her good friend's departure.  Everyday she asks, 'How many more days before S departs??'   Truth be told, she is also counting down the days before we start babysitting S's hamsters (or 'monsters' as she calls them).  Regardless of what she is counting down for there is a certain sense of loss and mourning in her questions.   

When the first set of grandparents came in February we immediately noticed that the girls were a little shy and held back their affection.  Even though we had seen the grandparents almost weekly on skype the girls weren't comfortable in lavishing love as they had in the past.  It took a couple of weeks for G&G to rebuild the rapport and unfortunately then they had to leave again.  When the next set of grandparents arrived in April we knew what to expect but it was still heartbreaking to see the girls struggle with their emotions around loved ones that they knew would leave again.

All of this coming and going is reminding us of an even greater reality in the world.  How loved ones enter and leave in a much more permanent sense.  We often reflect on the image of Paul hugging and weeping with his brothers and fellow coworkers as his boat readies to depart for Rome knowing with great certitude that a reunion would not likely happen again on earth.  We dearly hang on to the hope that every goodbye will also bring a great reunion, if not here, then in the world to come.  

Lessons Living Overseas (LLO) #1 - What to Wear

Typically, telling a story about paying the electricity bill wouldn't be all that captivating ... but then again nothing is typical in our new homeland.

Last night at 9:30pm our doorbell rang.  It was the electricity bill collector.  He didn't have a uniform, or badge or even a name tag.  Just a big stack of bills in one hand and a stack of money in the other.

In Canada I would have been super annoyed had anyone rang our doorbell at 9:30pm, 'Don't people know we have kids sleeping??'  But its an all too regular occurrence here as people often confuse our door with that of the dentist next door and, because his hours are from 6pm to 2am, we get doorbells at all hours.  His hours might seem strange but they actually make good practical sense.  No one has to miss work, you don't have to rush out before eating dinner, and you can even put the kids to bed and then head out for your appointment.  All that to say, we still book all our appointments in the afternoon to avoid travel after dark.  Still very Canadian, eh! 

The bill collector quickly thrust the bill into my hand, rattled off the total in Arabic and waited patiently for me to find my wallet ... and then he noticed my shorts.  In this culture only small boys wear shorts and apparently seeing an adult male in shorts is quite humorous.  A few weeks ago our doorman came to our door to deliver treats for the girls and when he saw my shorts he burst into laughter and practically yelled to the whole building, 'Ha, Mr. David! Shorts!'  I'm sure I gave him a good story to tell all his fellow doormen up and down the street.  By the look of our bill collector's face he was equally as surprised.  I quickly tried explaining in my broken Arabic that I was hot and he seemed to understand but after glancing again at my pasty white legs he broke out in another huge grin.

A big lesson we learned in our first few weeks is whenever someone brings you a bill whether its for electricity, water or other services provided they expect it to be settled in cash right then and there.  Thankfully bills are usually no more than $20-$50.  We have also learned that adding a small tip ($1 or $2) will also ensure that you receive the bill in a timely manner and aren't charged late penalties.  I still can't figure out why you would be charged a late fine if you never received the actual bill but I'll probably figure that out in time too.  

As I gave the bill collector the due amount plus a few extra dollars his grin continued to grow until he broke out in a very enthusiastic high five and Arabic equivalent of 'See you later dude!'  Hopefully I can do something next week that will continue to give him fodder for lots of good stories at home. 

Through Their Eyes

D's folks left this week after spending the past two and a half wonderful weeks with us.  One of the great joys of having guests, besides all the fun, is the new perspective they bring.  It's amazing how much we take for granted after only eight months.  We now have a 'new normal'.  D's dad works in construction and maintenance and would often point out all the workplace safety violations - such as bricklayers working barefoot, high voltage power lines snaking across the sidewalk and so on.  Here is a glimpse of our place through their eyes (and camera lens).

This is what they saw when they first arrived at the airport.

Scaffolding consisting of 2x4's and twine

Early on we taught the kids, 'No stepping on power lines!'

Or touching power poles.  Or stepping on manhole covers.  

Luggage, scarves, a cat and a sewing machine.  Great little business for this lady.

Concrete work

Eden is always working her way into the hearts of many.

Everyone loves a good camel ride

A two headed camel!

Conversation over tea and the local staple bread.

Moving fresh bread to the market

Fresh fresh beef!

Two popular forms of transportation

A local touristy market

Food cart...although this one happens to be empty.  Usually they sell a bean dish commonly eaten for breakfast (around10- 20 cents per serving).

Fruit and veggie market.

Someday we will do a post about the things we've seen on the back of a moped.

Fresh berries.  Unfortunately not nearly as tasty as raspberries.

Bye G and G!  Thanks for visiting our new world.  We will miss you!

Refugees

D was busy supervising the kids in the bath and I thought I would take the opportunity to go and pick up some veggies from our produce guy and some ice cream from our favourite ice cream store before it got too dark for me to walk alone.  On my way I was approached by a family; a man and wife, a small girl in a stroller and a baby.  It is not uncommon to be approached several times during an outing by women and street children wanting change, food or clothing and I decided early on in our time here that rather than ignoring them, I would try to always, at the very least,  greet them or have a brief conversation in my often-flawed attempt at showing love and restoring dignity.  This decision has already led to 'regulars' that have become friends.  

So, even though I was in a rush to beat the sunset, I fought the urge  to keep walking and stopped to talk.   As I heard their story, my heart broke (as it often does here).  They were not from here.  They had arrived two days ago from Syria. Damascus to be exact.  Refugees in a new land.  There were looking for something, but I wasn't quite sure what.  I was trying to decipher through my limited Arabic and their slightly different dialect.  I did understand though that they had arrived two days ago and they introduced me to their two daughters, the eldest one and a half years old and the youngest seven days.  That's right, seven days old.  They fled their country with their five day old child.  She looked so tiny in that little blanket.  They had no place to stay and were wandering around looking for someone to help.  They didn't want my money, they needed more than that.  They needed someone to help them settle into a new land so they didn't have to live on the street.  He wants to work. But, in the meantime, they wander.  There are many like this family in this land, fleeing from war, leaving the only home they have ever known to arrive to uncertainty, to a country that is also facing hardship.

Last week we were able to visit an organization here that works with refugees primarily from Sudan, Syria and Somalia.  It was wonderful to hear of how they set up employment, help provide food, shelter and clothing, do community health teaching and medical clinics, adult education, counselling, youth programs, and assist refugee schools.  It was extremely encouraging for us to see the other side of these heart breaking stories.  The side of hope.

Refugees from Darfur at a baby wellness clinic.

This little girl is from Darfur, Sudan.  She desperately needs heart surgery.  The organization we visited is working towards fast tracking her official refugee status and providing funding so that she can have the needed surgery in a local hospital .

As the nightly fire crackers are heard going off outside my window I can't help but think of these refugees who, instead of fire crackers, have been awakened by guns and bombs exploding.  May Peace surround them in this land tonight.

Palm Sunday (on a Thursday)