Season Of Sand

Before we came to Iraq we were told that sandstorms had a "season".  I thought that meant a couple months each year.  The teacher announced that the season was from April through October.  That's quite a season.

Once we got here, I quickly wrote it off to urban (or desert) myth, since we were here for September and October and didn't see one sandstorm.

Of course if you keep up with this blog you'll know that we got stranded and missed our first day of R&R in the Maldives thanks to a sandstorm.

We returned without incident, but shortly after we got back several friends were stranded trying to return due to sandstorms.  And since then it seems we get a small sandstorm every few days.

Today, a mama sandstorm rolled in.  This place looks like the set of some sign of the times movie - or maybe a scene from the movie "Outbreak".  The sky is, well, gone - you can't see anything on the horizon.  Everything is tinted sepia and it's sort of eerily quiet.  We have to block our door at it's base with a towel, because even though it's a tiny crack dust just piles up in here and the halls are filled with it.  People are walking around with masks on their faces, although for the most part it's a total ghost town outside.


 It was so odd how it came upon us.  I walked home and it was clear and brilliant - the sun was shining.  It's not like a rain storm where you see clouds on the horizon.  James and I were eating lunch and all of a sudden our room just went dark.  But sepia-toned dark.  It was so strange.  We looked out the windows and it was as if someone had literally pulled a switch and we went from sunshine to dust storm in one second flat.

Anyway, it's odd.  I hope you get that.  It's very, very odd.  And I HOPE that this is not going to be something that happens all summer long.  And I also hope it doesn't keep us from our next R&R.  Who ever heard of dust holding you down? 

I thought Soup was good for the Soul

When we got back to Baghdad last week, my first task was wading through 200+ emails that had accumulated in my inbox.

I was able to quickly delete many of them, but there was one that stopped me in my tracks.  It was an informational email on items that were "standard prohibited and restricted items" from our USPS packages.  In other words, what people should not send us and what we should not send them through the mail.

I won't do the comprehensive list, but why we take a look at the first 10?

1.  Alcoholic beverages
2.  Collectible and/or irreplaceable items
3.  Collect on Delivery shipments
4.  Human corpses, human organs or body parts, human and animal embryos or cremated remains.
5.  Bullion
6.  Explosives and incendiary devices.
7.  Firearms
8.  Live animals, eggs, larva, live insects and live spiders.
9.  Drugs/narcotics
10. Processed or unprocessed dead animals, including insects and pets.

Ok, go. 
For me...so many of the items raise an eyebrow and make me wonder what has been done in the past.  I mean human corpses?  Processed or unprocessed dead animals?  Including, I don't know, INSECTS AND PETS?  But, ok...I can see it's not a good idea to send these items.

The FUNNIEST thing to me, was that amidst these rather crazy and/or dangerous items one stood out. 

Bullion.

Like, beef or chicken?  I mean did someone have a bad experience with soup?  (Corpses, Bullion, Explosives.)   I dunno, I felt this was important to put out for those of you who might mail a care package....I would hate for anyone to get flagged for a corpse....or some bullion.

Rubby-dub-dub...big boy soakin' in the tub

Alright folks, this is the last R&R post - promise.

If you've been to Bali you know that one of the BEST things you can do is get spa treatments.  Namely massages....for 10 dollars.  Heaven on earth.  Spa heaven to be exact.

James and I enjoyed a couple massages in our villa, and on the last day we went to the most famous spa in Seminyak: Bodyworks.

We got a special couples package that included a 60 minute massage, 60 minutes of exfoliation scrubbing to get rid of all that dead sun skin, and then we were rubbed down in skin silk-ening yogurt.  All followed by a tub full of flowers and ginger tea. All for 35 dollars.  Sigh.

James was a bit tentative about doing all this "girly-fancy-pantsy" stuff that he did not think anyone in his family would do -but I reassured him that if they could do it for $35 they would.  Am I right Deweys?  It seemed to persuade him.

It was divine. 

I must add, that for some reason - everywhere we went James thought it was funny to put fruit, vegetables or flowers on his eyes.  And I guess it was. 

His favorite funny-face moment however, was at the spa.  When the girls came back in to check on us and he whipped his face around to greet them with two geraniums on his face.  Yes....they were startled.  And we like to think, amused.

Fish Face

This post is for James' family.  They love animals and nature in a way that my family never will.   Let's just say my sister and brother-in-law would rather die than sleep in a tent.  And they're probably not alone...Travis?  Garrett?


It is especially for James' parents because they love snorkeling.


James and I went snorkeling in the Maldives and in Bali.  We got this new underwater camera because we just knew there would be a lot of really cool underwater life to capture.  The camera sucked.  I mean really sucked.  But whatever.   James will want to make sure I mention that we also saw dolphins, turtle and a Ray of some sort - but no good pics.  With no further ado, here are pictures of some of the fish and such....

Monkeys are not nice

Monkeys are terrifying and I never knew it.

They have always been my favorite animal.  I wanted one for a pet.  They are smart and cute, and the stuffed animal versions would wrap their arms and legs around you to give you a full body hug.  What's not to like?

I'll tell you.

When the real life monkeys wrap their arms and legs around you it's so they can kill you.

Last time I was in Ubud, I visited the Monkey Forest and I even invited a little monkey to jump up on my shoulder.  There are pictures to prove it.  However, once it was on my shoulder and I turned to look at it up close and personal it bared it's fangs and hissed at me.  That was when the little guy went flying. 

I still thought I loved monkeys when I took James to the forest.  Against his desire you might say.  He was terrified of monkeys from the get-go.

When we got there I reacted like Kristin did when she held Becky's parakeet on her finger, cooed at it, and then flung it in to the table after remembering she was "scared of birds."  I panicked a little.  James and I held on to each other tight and both tried to pretend we weren't afraid, but we ran from site to site and tried to avoid monkeys and follow groups at all possible cost.  It was worse than any haunted house I have been to before. 

                 They may be terrifying, but they sure help their friends out.

These monkeys know they own the place.  They seriously jumped on any old person they wanted at any given time - including sneak attacks (why James walked backwards and I walked forwards - ha!) and they stole whatever they could get their hands on.  And some were big.

I'm going to give you a heads up here.  That Planet of the Apes deal - not too far off.  Trust me.








Now here's an animal you don't have to worry about.  Hello Butterfly.

Oh Meester.....

During our stay in Seminyak, we learned about a quiet beach named Geger Beach and decided to visit it on our way to Uluwatu and Jimbaran.

Geger beach was beautiful, and relatively quiet…except for the hotel construction next door.  Ah, development.

One of the things you find in many developing countries, and is quite aggressive in Bali are the vendors.  No matter where you go, no matter if you’re sleeping, eating or swimming – people will come up to you with their offers of sarongs, bracelets, and massage.  I swear if I was on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean I could see one of them swimming out, basket on head and shouting at me, “You like bracelet?  Massage?”

Geger Beach was no exception.  James was targeted by two cute little kids who were determined to each sell him three bracelets.  They got close: 2 bracelets each and a magnet.  

                 

                                                  One haggler,

                                            Two hagglers,

                                           Three hagglers.

The negotiations took about 20 minutes and their mothers and grandmother were soon seated in beach chairs around us watching the proceedings as well. 

The beach kids were aggressive, but it was when we visited the mother temple that the word aggressive took on a whole new meaning.

This girl attached herself to James from the moment we entered the temple.  She followed him up all the stairs, around the temple and partway down.  And the whole time she followed him she repeated the same thing in a sing-song voice, “Meester…buy my postcards….1 dollar.  Meester…you buy postcards…1 dollar.” 

Sometimes she made eye contact, but mostly she just looked glassy-eyed.  I think she may have been hypnotized.  I thought maybe if I shook her she would come out of it and say, “Where am I?  What am I doing?  And why do I have all these postcards??”

Anyway, at first it was cute, then it got annoying, then it got hysterical.  I couldn’t believe the endurance.  And the whole time she did it our guide just kept trying to talk over her and pretended he didn’t notice.  Quite surreal.

I am saddened to report that she walked away with no dollar and James walked away with no postcard.  I probably would have rewarded that kind of persistence, but James is a man of steel.

Wisdom in the Garden of Hang

We loved Bali - and I took James to many of the places I had been when I went for my Surf Goddess trip.  There was one place I added to our itinerary after seeing it on my favorite new addiction -  pinterest:  The Hanging Gardens in Ubud.

One of my pinterest categories - probably my favorite - is called "Oh the Places I'll go."  Whenever I see an amazing photo or beautiful location, I add it.  When I saw the Hanging Gardens and discovered it was in Bali where we were headed it became a "must do" on our list.

It was perhaps even more beautiful than the pictures - and if I return to Bali again, I would love to stay in the hotel itself.  Gorgeous property, gorgeous rooms (w/ your own private hanging pool), gorgeous view of a temple across the way, and good food.

             Captain Safety doesn't like the idea of sitting on the edge so much...

Across the way from the hanging gardens was a beautiful temple.  We stopped there on our way home to see the view of the hanging gardens from the other side.

When we entered we met a man who was the keeper of the temple.  As we were leaving he wanted us to sign a book and asked if we would like to join a "spiritual."  I kind of thought he meant join a session of some sort and didn't think we had time, so I started to say no thanks.  He didn't really pay attention and just started giving us his insight - which I guess was his "spiritual."

It turned out to be very sweet.  He spoke to us about how life is a race and that there is a beginning, an end and a middle.  The middle is the sprint - and he said that God is in the sprint.  He said that we can't just hope and believe, that we must take action.  God helps us when we move our feet - he carries us through the sprinting, but he can't make us start running.

He made several insightful comments, and then he let me take his picture and we left.  It was a very sweet moment and I was grateful that he didn't allow me to brush aside his offer of a spiritual.  I am grateful for inspiration from all cultures and belief sets, and find it interesting how at their core, they are so closely connected.

A little water never hurt

James and I had big plans to surf while we were in Bali.  Then James got in an accident and hurt his foot in a wild and crazy Ultimate Frisbee game and we thought it might not happen. 

But it did.

After we left Ubud and headed down to Seminyak, we decided to contact my old friends at Rip Curl Surf School and sign up for an intermediate class.  We were super excited to go and I prepared for a walk down memory lane and a surf on Legian Beach.

The Rip Curl van picked us up at 10 am and we jumped in with a bunch of Austrians.  No yodeling.  I thought we'd drive about 5-10 minutes and end up at Legian.  But...we kept driving, and driving and driving and turns out we went to Sanur.  About 30 minutes away from our beach.  We discovered that they thought the surf break was better in Sanur today, and that they were going to take us out to a reef break.

For those of you who aren't pro surfers, what this means is that they were going to put us in a boat and drive us out to the middle of the ocean, drop us off and let us catch (what looked like) huge waves and then paddle back around the break to surf again.  No shore in swimming distance.

This wasn't what I had in mind and it looked a heck of a lot scarier than the nice medium size, white waves I was used to catching and riding gently in to shore.  So, I agreed to wear the helmet this time.

We paddled until I felt like my arms would break off (about two minutes - no, seriously, five) and occasionally my surf instructor, Sonny, would pull my board.  Yes, I have no upper body strength.  I've never hid that fact.  James paddled like the swimming rock star he is, and occasionally gloated by just sitting up on his board and admiring the beauty around him.  I panted and tried to hold my head up.
                              (Here's James catching a sweet wave)

At any rate, the point of this story is that I caught two waves.  I did the first one and got pounded, and eventually made my way back to the line.  We paddled again for like, FOREVER, and then Sonny told me to catch the next wave.  It looked pretty huge, but honestly I didn't have the strength to really turn around and look at it, It just seemed high when I was standing at the top of it looking down.

(the close up doesn't do its size justice- see James' above for size perspective.)

I got up and caught it like a champ and even turned.  I hit the bottom, jumped off the board and got thrown all over by the power of the wave.  Praying the board wouldn't hit me in the face and break my teeth like this other guy's friend from our group.  I did get hit on my leg.

I came up for air and realized that my board was tangled up with someone else who was cursing out the instructor.  I think there were way too many of us (class and non-class) going together and accidents were happening.

     (this is me jumping off and you can see how close that other guy is)

                    (and from this shot you can see how we got tangled up)

He saw how panicked I looked and then started focusing on untangling us.  Of course we could only work for a few seconds before the next huge wave in the set came and pounded us.  I had no idea how to get over or through the wave with the board + it was tangled, so i just tried to duck under it, hold my breath and pray that no one's board including my own would hit me.  These were big waves and a couple times I felt like I was under long enough that I needed air and I couldn't see which way was up.

All this to say I was tired, slowly growing more and more panicky about getting smacked or drowned, and then the tears began to flow.

At that point Sonny came over the wave to find me and helped me untangle and pulled me back to the line.  This is the conversation that followed:

Me:  I want (gulp) to go (sob) back to the boat.
Sonny:  You just caught big wave.
Me:  I (gulp)(sob) boat.
Sonny:  You even turn.
Me:  I can't (sob) do it.
Sonny:  OK.  But you catch wave good.
Me: help.

Poor Sonny.  He probably never saw anyone sob in the middle of surfing.  He pushed me in the right direction and I finally got to the boat.  One of the Indonesian surf guys was running it and he helped pull my sobbing body in to the boat.  I had a headache, thought I was going to lose my lunch and was crying in heaving gasps.  He stared at me for a long time and I could see he had no idea what to do.

However.  I think he felt he had to do something.

All of a sudden I felt something trickling down my face and when I opened my eyes between sobs I realized that this guy had gotten a water drink box, punctured it and was slowly dripping it on my head.  I looked at him, he smiled encouragingly, and I just sat there resigned as a steady flow of water was poured on my head.

Just another day in paradise.

p.s.  I still love surfing.

Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model?

The Maldives are gorgeous.  Granted. 

The Maldives look like a place where a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit magazine could have been shot.  Check.

The Maldives inspire you to want to be on the cover yourself.  Apparently, yes in some cases.

I wish with my whole heart that I could have captured some of the amazing poses that James and I witnessed while we walked around our island.  I wish I was a braver person and had pulled out my camera to capture these moments - but I feared it would make them uncomfortable and that they might stop.

Not sure why now that I think about it, because they never stopped posing when we would pass.  And trust me - if I was laying in a bikini, rolling around on the edge of the surf letting waves wash over me while making sultry faces....well, yes.  I would have stopped if I saw someone coming.  Scratch that, I would have stopped if I knew there was a possibility of someone coming.

James and I saw the most amazing poses.  Fully clothed in the middle of the water whipping props around, laying in the surf, and this one classic pose with hand on hip and one arm extended - I can't even describe it.  But after two or three days of this, James and I decided to try to duplicate a few for your viewing pleasure.  Please.  Enjoy.  And marvel why we haven't been asked to grace an SI cover ourselves.  I know we do.

You don't know what you don't know

I've been in airport bathrooms in Asia before.  So this sight is not wholly unfamiliar to me:

The old squatter-oo option.  Not sure who would choose it, or why when the next stall over has a toilet you can sit on (with protective paper wrap of course) but to each her own.

What cracked me up was when I chose the old familiar toilet and saw what they had posted on the inside door for your reading...or instructional...pleasure:

I wish...oh how I wish...that I could know what led to the creation of this poster.  Was it the cleaning crew tired of wiping footprints off the seat?  Just goes to show what we take for granted as knowledge may not be knowledge in another culture. 

And of course it's great that just for good measure they throw in the no smoking sign.  Why not?

Dust Storm

I mentioned that we got delayed by 24 hours starting our trip due to a dust storm.  As we waited at Sully Air Force base for an announcement on when our flight might be, we noticed this sign behind check-in:

The listed times are for the helicopter flights.  EHP is the Embassy Helo Pad.  What most concerned me was the last item on the list.  While the people behind the desk were unsure when we might leave, this list seemed to indicate what we should plan for.

A little R&R

Now that we're back "home", I thought I'd do a little recap of our magical trip to the Maldives and Bali.  It was nice to disconnect from the world, and the internet for a bit...although it's hard to say that we are actually now re-connected considering the time it takes to load a YouTube video (an hour) or to download a TV show on iTunes (12-24 hours).  I guess we could consider this whole year a vacation from media.

I digress.  Our R&R was amazing.  The travel there (sandstorm 24 hour delay) and back (horrible, multiple short flights through the night) was less so, but the destinations made it all worthwhile.  I will say that at around 2am on one flight when James was awoken for the umpteenth time by a flight attendant to UN-buckle his seat belt - apparently you aren't allowed to stay buckled while on the ground for a short layover..what?? - he finally lost his cool and gave the guy a piece of his mind.  He felt horrible about it afterwards and apologized, but the attendant actually felt bad too and moved us up to business class for the next leg of the flight because we were "clearly very tired."  James still feels bad, but I say a little anger can be a good thing sometimes.  Especially if it gets me a seat that extends farther than two inches back. 

In the following posts I'll share a few highlight stories from our travel adventure.  But first, I'll just tantalize you with a few favorite photos including the amazing lodging we enjoyed.  Ah-mazing.  Baghdad may just have been worth it for the R&Rs alone.  Of course, I may just be saying that because I find myself in a completely refreshed and positive state right now... 1 day back.

 1.  My favorite part of the places we stayed...the bathtubs.  Talk about a tub with a view!!!
Maldives:

Ubud, Bali:

2.  Where we lived in Maldives and Ubud (I forgot to take pics in our Seminyak Villa.)

 
R&R rocks.

Stuck

Yesterday James and I were so excited to start our journey to the magical Maldives. We knew we had many hours of travel ahead, but we didn't expect it to take 48. Mother nature had her own ideas. Sandstorm. I should have expected it when I woke up, checked the weather and it said "blowing dust". Silly me, I didn't think of this. We were supposed to take off from sully air force at 2:15. We waited for a 4 pm update, then a 6pm, and finally a 7:30pm....fail. We spent the next two hours trying to change our flights and our hotel changed with no Internet or long distance phone access. Next we went to get a chu assignment to sleep in. We were lucky to get a wet chu (bathroom in the trailer). It made us very grateful for the accommodations we have at the embassy. So now we cross our fingers and wait. Hoping the sandstorm goes away in the next two hours so we don't lose yet another day of our beloved R&R.

Baghdads Got Talent

If you like American Idol, you'll LOVE Baghdad's Got Talent.  David Archuletta, Carey Underwood, Chris Daughtry....who?  Yeah.  We got James Dewey up in this piece.

It all went down Saturday night ya'll.  There were about 10 acts, and some really good talent.  People who apparently have songs in iTunes and others who...don't.  But I know one who SHOULD be on iTunes - James Butler Dewey, yo.

James wrote an original song which he performed called Beautiful Baghdad.  It was clever, perfect for the Baghdad audience, and it had a nice beat and you could dance to it.  Maybe not those last two, but it waaaassss catchy!

He performed it to a standing room only crowd who ROARED with approval when he finished.  It makes me beam with pride just thinking of it now.  And the judge who was the toughest on all the other acts said simply, "You're the winner."  And he was.  First prize, baby.

So, I'm going to post a version of it here...but...if you don't know some of the inside jokes you won't appreciate it nearly as much.   Therefore, I am going to clue you in on some of the jokes before you watch.

1.  Mr. Lee is one of the most famous people on our little campus.  That is because he runs the DFAC, and thus controls our food.  He bears a slight resemblance to Spike Lee, he is enigmatic and funny, and a true power player and long-term Baghdad employee.  He provides us with some perks, like lobster tails one night a week, and employees who just cut any fruit you bring them.  Like, I bring an orange and they peel and cut it.  Thanks guys!

2.  There was a news article recently that covered "Camp Cupcake" and showed how we live a pretty sweet life with awesome indoor pool, 2 gyms (nicknamed Curves and Golds), and other perks.  Another recent article was talking about how things had gotten rough for us recently by making jabs like "They haven't been getting the food convoys through so they are allowed no more than 6 chicken wings at a time."  Yes, it's rough.

3.  The gates that let you in to our compound are called CAC's.  There's a blue one, a white one, a red one, a Disneyland one...yeah, I don't get that either.  Very regularly, like every couple of days we get an email to the whole embassy announcing to us the very urgent message, "The Red CAC (or blue or white or whatever) is closed."  We are not clear why this impacts us in any way.  But it is apparently urgent, and regular.

4.  Our guards here are Peruvians and Kenyans.  They speak very little English, but are astoundingly polite and friendly.  Until they get on the soccer field at which time the Kenyans try to kill everyone in sight and a Peru/Kenya match had to be called once.

5.  People come to Baghdad to get "a garden spot" after the tour - very few this time seemed to get what they hoped.  One garden spot our friend Stewart got was "Saudi Arabia."  Sweet. (Hi Stewart!)

6.  The Security Contractors here work for Triple Canopy.  They all look IDENTICAL.  They wear cargo pants and flannel shirts and have beards.  They get busted all the time by the Iraqis who for some reason (uh, duh) can recognize them.  They can't leave the compound right now because the Iraqis won't give us Visas--so if they left, they couldn't come back.  It's a big bone of contention.  They walk around with guns and drive big black cars and bmw's and tote guns.

And that should do it.  Prepare to enjoy the masterful lyrical stylings of James Dewey:

A Little Exposed

Lisa, you may as well cover your face now and say, "I'm so uncomfortable!"  This is about to get personal - remember that I warned you in advance. 

As most of you know, Baghdad is a NO CHILDREN tour.  This means actual children, not just people who may act like them.  Trust me.



Most of you also know that James and I have been married less than a year.

Based on this information, you should be able to make two credible leaps.  Leaps which are obvious, but for some reason you aren't supposed to say out loud (of course when has this stopped me?):
1. James and I are still on our honeymoon, which means that unlike a lot of you we are still having s-e-x.
2. James and I use protection.  Otherwise if I got knocked up, I'd be leaving on a jet plane - asap.

You probably can't make this leap, so I'll tell you the next important fact:  our choice of protection is condoms.  I'm not a fan of all the jacked up emotions I get from the other "safety" options available.  And obviously, I want the extra protection so that I don't get any of the diseases James may be carrying from his wild and promiscuous pre-Shauri days.  (ha, ha, and ha.)

I know many of you are DYING (Lisa, Delsa, Teresa) reading this right now.  Others have already made the mental jump ahead to the punchline. So... here comes the really personal part.  (That's right, the fact that we are having sex and using condoms is NOT personal.)

A couple nights ago James and I were... you know.  When you know was over, James seemed confused and was sort of groping around himself in the dark.  "Around" is an important and accurate word in that sentence.  Then he said the three words that every girl longs to hear.......... "Where's the condom?"

At first I thought he was speaking Arabic, because, um, WHAT?...no comprendo.  Then I got scared, cause I didn't even know if I wanted to get pregant, but I DID know I didn't want to get kicked out of Iraq.
Turns out....it was next to him.  Next. To. Him.  Now, I'm not sure how one wouldn't KNOW it was off, I mean I'm not a man, but it seems kind of like you might notice.  I don't know guys, would you?

Anyway, neither here nor there.  The point is we both just looked at each other, and James started to look really nervous.  And then we laughed.  You know, the kind where you keep casting sidelong glances at the other person to make sure they are laughing too.  And then we stopped.  And then we started again.

Ok, what are the facts here?  Frankly, it would take a miracle for a lady of my esteemed age to get pregnant at all.  I mean how many people who are young and healthy even get pregnant, let alone off of ONE mistake??  But still....the shadow of a doubt has been cast.  The die has been rolled. 

Perhaps the adoption/birth decision will be made for us after all.  I guess at least we'll know it was meant to be.

I'll let you know.  But not for several months after I find out, because HELLO.... I'm not planning to get shipped out quite so fast.  Shhhh....

Have any of you ever rolled the destiny dice with no intention of doing so?  It's quite a ride.

Terror

Thursday morning I left the apartment as usual and started the long, 100 yard walk to work when all of a sudden....


BOOM!

Like, BOOM...for real.  I felt the ground vibrate - I felt a small shock wave go through me.  I stood there frozen for a moment trying to process, and then looked at the shelter in front of me and sprinted inside.  Two nice gentlemen joined me.  They walked briskly which I'm sure looked better than my sprint, but c'mon people---BOOM!  That's no time to look cool.

We stood inside for a few minutes in silence waiting to see if anything else would go off, or if the alarm would sound - and then one man left.  I stayed put and the other guy looked at me and said, "I think it makes sense to wait a little longer." Uh, yeah.

Apparently it was one of the many car bombs that went off in Baghdad that day killing at least 70 and wounding 374.  It was one of the bloodiest days in Baghdad since the military withdrew.

Car bombs go off in Baghdad all the time, but that's the first one I heard AND felt.  It was close and yet it wasn't close enough that I feel like it should have been so loud and strong.  I can't imagine what it sounds/feels like when you're right next to the blast.

I walked to work, with weak knees.  I wasn't really in danger, but it was a wake up call that forced me to remember where I am, that's for sure.  And it reminded me that one good blast is all it takes.

It was a tragic day in Iraq.  These bombs primarily targeted security, government and police forces, but they killed many innocent people.  Including children - like a 6th grade boy who was walking to school.  Imagine:  your child leaves the house and kisses you goodbye to go to school... and that's the last you see him because someone ignited a car bomb and blew him up.  I think of my nieces and nephews and I'm torn between rage and grief imagining them in this scenario.  They also hit a primary school.

Usually I forget where I live in this sheltered little community, but when I'm reminded it's both shocking and devastating by turns.  I was shaken up this morning for an hour or so as I started my day, but I'm still alive.  I hate that the fear I felt--for one short hour--is a fear that innocent men, women and children in Baghdad feel every moment of every day. 

A Safe Home

Last week James and I decided to start moving the adoption process forward by calling people in different agencies and asking questions.  We thought it made sense to start building our understanding and getting prepared. That way if we felt like adoption was the right path for us in August, we'd be ready to move forward.  All systems go.

Before I continue, it must be mentioned that since we got back from our Christmas R&R we have had VERY few duck and covers.  Maybe 3.  And it had been at least 3-4 weeks since the last one.  In fact James and I were cooking dinner on Tuesday night when James commented, "I can't even remember the last time we had a duck and cover." 

Back to the adoption story.  It's later Tuesday night, and after talking to a lawyer friend here in Baghdad who had adopted two children, we decided we needed to talk to LDS social services.  Not about adopting through them, but to use them (potentially) as our social worker in case we adopt through foster care.

We got on skype and called a nice man named Rob.  The connection was decent (shockingly) and we were just getting past the niceties and to the part where we say, "We'd love to provide a safe home for some children" when all of a sudden....

RRRREEEERRRRRRRRRRR.......(siren sound, right?)  RRRRRRRREEEERRRRRR...Duck and Cover, this is not a test... Get away from the doors and the windows.

...goes off.

James and I look at each other in shock and then I try to explain to the guy, um,  don't worry if you hear a high pitched shrieking sound telling us to duck and cover.  They're just shooting rockets at us.

"So back to giving us some of your kids..."

Rob seemed a little confused and we told him to just try to ignore the sound, that we were OK and could keep talking.  We told him they shoot rockets at us all the time and it was OK.

His comment?

"I can't wait until I go home.  This is going to be the most interesting dinner conversation EVER!"

It's all about perspective.

Baghdad: Land o' love

I read an article two days ago about the Middle East, and their feelings for our beloved (and be-loving) holiday: Valentines Day. 

Apparently they don't like it.  There are bans and secret police watching store fronts to make sure there aren't displays with red or pink, no chocolate or hearts or signs that V-Day is in their hearts and/or their pockets.  Why?  Simple:  because it promotes sex.  Valentines Day is apparently the holiday of sex.  I did not know that because I never got sex on Valentines Day.  Of course I didn't usually get anything on V-Day...except for breakups.  It's a high pressure holiday, people.  Anyway, without chocolate, hearts and red on display, I guess there is no fear of anyone having it.  Sex that is. 

It's sad.  Luckily, it didn't impact MY special day here (I'm not talking about sex now, let's move on) and my valentine charmingly surprised me with flowers and a song.

How did you get flowers?... you might ask yourself.  Or you might not if you don't know that we live in a compound and can't leave it and that flower delivery doesn't exist.  But now that you know that, you would probably ask yourself.  Go ahead. 

The answer is as follows:  You make them.

My special little Valentine is in a barbershop quartet here (yes, you read it right) and the leader of the quartet (my boss, Chuck) suggested they practice a song that they could sing to their valentines.  Me, Oni, (both here in Baghdad) and Steve's partner Daniel via skype.

Chris (Oni's husband and also another of my bosses - I have many) told Oni and I to meet in the studio at 3pm to do a video project.  I suspected nothing.  At 3pm Oni and I were in the studio chatting when the quartet walked in. James and Chris were holding paper flower boquets (very cute!) and then they all busted in to a barbershop love song.

I was BRIGHT RED - embarrassed, and happy to hear that Steve's idea of singing to us in the DFAC had gotten shot down! I mean if I was embarrassed alone in the TV studio, imagine how I would have done in front of a hundred people.  No, don't.

Embarrassment aside, it was thoughtful, and lovely.  I wish I had been able to capture video of them singing to us with flowers in hand, but I did go with the group later to film them singing to Steve's partner via Skype.  Witness the amazing vocals of the Baghdad Barbershop:

And witness this, you mean old secret police:  love, romance and of course barbershops rule the day in America.  Sex may be a result of this awesome cheesy-ness, but it is not the purpose of the holiday.  Let the love in people, let it in.