November 2011 – robinchartier

Inshallah

This morning a friend and I were going to meet some other friends at a cafe for coffee, but there were no parking spots anywhere in the area. We drove around the lot, up the street, made a U-turn, circled back around . . . nothing. Not only were all the regular spots taken, but people had resorted to pulling up on the curb, double parking, any available space was fair game. Since nothing was moving, we decided to do as the Omanis were doing.

I pulled up perpendicular to a beautiful black Porsche, took my key out of the ignition and looked around. I was semi-conditioned to the “parking-in” phenomenon during our time in Egypt where double parking was a regular and expected thing. One of our Egyptian friends there told us about a time he came out to his car to find he had been parked in and he had to wait three hours for the guy to come back. When I asked him what he did about it, he said he just sat on the trunk of his car and waited. When the guy came back to his car and drove away, then my friend was able to go about his business. Instead of being upset or angry about it, he just said, “Inshallah.” Roughly translated it means, “if God wills it, it will happen.”

Well, I wasn’t going to let a tiny thing like a parking spot stand between me and my cappuccino, so when I didn’t see an angry man or woman running toward me as I exited the car, I decided to go for it. Ever the cautious rule-breaker, I strategically positioned my car where I could keep an eye on it while I enjoyed my drink, just in case mystery Porsche owner decided to make an early return.

So we’re chatting, laughing, and drinking and after a short while I forget about the fact that I am potentially creating a barrier between someone and their very important business. Until I lean over in my chair and see that the front door to the Porsche is now open. Oops! In a flash I grab my keys and run out to the car, ready to make some very sincere apologies to the person I’ve certainly inconvenienced. As I approach the car, the Omani man standing next to the open door says, “Oh, I’m sorry! Did I interrupt your breakfast?”

Go back and reread that, but this time don’t use a sarcastic voice like you might hear in America. He was seriously apologizing to me, when I was the one who had parked him in. After reassuring him that no, I didn’t need to go back and finish my breakfast before moving my car, he got into his beautiful Porsche and drove away with a wave and a smile and I pulled into his spot. Inshallah at work.

A Griswold Christmas

If you’ve been following the saga of my christmas tree on Facebook, these will be familiar to you. To sum up, we weren’t supposed to be here at Christmas so all of our Christmas items are in storage. No tree, no decorations, no big deal. Last year I think I stacked a few presents on our coffee table and that was as decorative as we got.

HOWEVER, when our neighbors moved out this summer they had a Christmas tree that they used while they were here and they didn’t need to take it with them (since they’d be getting all their regular Christmas decorations out of storage) so they gifted it to us. It’s been sitting in the storage closet under our stairs — until yesterday.

Thanksgiving came and went and it was time to get in the Christmas spirit, but I wasn’t feeling it. Since the boys didn’t even know we had a tree here, I didn’t need to bother getting it out, right? Um, not according to my Facebook friends. After a long “discussion,” and lots of decorating suggestions, I caved and got out the 7.5 foot naked monstrosity.

The first tier of 3. The stand was a pain to put together (as Charlynn warned), but Carter and I managed to get the tree up with only a little bit of lean for Josh to fix when he got home. Later that night Josh and I went out and after our dinner/coffee date, we picked up a few of the ugliest ornaments we could find.

This plastic/metal disc is “decoratively” blackened and tarnished.

This is supposed to be Santa — with a green crown and a green nose . . .

The sparkly plastic mushroom is my favorite. Our friends who lived in the middle east for several years said part of the fun of Christmas overseas is seeing what sort of decorations non-Westerners create in an attempt to copy a western Christmas. I have to say that I’ve never associated fungi with our Lord’s birth before today.

We also picked up some super obnoxious lights that flash and play christmas songs in a shrill, shrieky tone and intermittently get louder and softer and occasionally even yowls like a dying cat.

So I’ll say it publicly, you all were right and I was wrong. Less than 24 hours in and the tree has already paid for itself in fun. Today we got out the glitter, glue, and construction paper and made a few ornaments. I have a few other alternative ornament ideas up my sleeve that we may try in the next few days and I’m planning a trip to LuLu’s to see if I can find any other funny ornaments. I’m really hoping for some lost in translation version of “Merry Christmas.”

Video on demand

For Jack:
Camille playing in the ball pit. Watch what the little boy does when his mom takes a picture of him.

Carter spinning

Nana and Carter on the slide

My Grand time at the Mosque

One of the things Art and Barbara wanted to do during their visit was take a trip to the Grand Mosque here in Muscat. We didn’t take the boys because this mosque doesn’t allow children under the age of 10 and they weren’t all that thrilled to spend one of their precious days off at the mosque, so we had pity on them and let them stay home with Lucy.

I was all dressed in my appropriate mosque-going gear: headscarf, long skirt, long sleeved shirt. We get up to the front gate and the guy points at my skirt and says, “Not acceptable.” Ah, yes. In order for my long skirt to be practical to walk in, it has a small slit that exposes part of my shin. The flash of an ankle and one shin as I walked made my attire too risqué to be permitted to enter.

So Josh was all over the guy in Arabic and they had a conversation that ended with the same result — no entrance for the harlot with the slit in her skirt. I went into the gift shop to see if they had a safety pin or some tape, but they had neither. The guy behind the counter did volunteer to sell me a pair of socks. Really? That’s all I need? Sure, give me a sock to cover up my nakedness.

So he hands me a small box and inside are those super sheer black pantyhose socks like grandmas used to wear with slacks. I pull one on and it comes to right above my ankle so I ask the guy for a pair of scissors, cut off the toe of the other one and stacked them. Then because I was wearing flip-flops I cut a slit in the toe so I could get my sandal on. The entire thing was ridiculous because you could practically see my skin through the sheer fabric anyway, but whatever. The guy behind the counter got quite the giggle out of the situation. I could tell he’s never seen anyone butcher a pair of “socks” the way I did. I swear, every time I go to a mosque, it’s always something . . .

All covered up and ready to go

An up close view of my “modest” leg.

After that drama, they were going to have a hard time winning the award for “My Favorite Mosque,” but I tried to keep an open mind. Yes, I had to wear an abaya in Abu Dhabi, but at least it was provided free of charge for everyone and they didn’t declare that my ankles were too awesome for public viewing.

The women’s prayer room in the above photos wasn’t anything spectacular, but the women’s rooms are rarely where the mosques shine. They aren’t used as frequently so they don’t put the same effort into decorating them.

The inside of the main room was beautiful, but not as much my style as the Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi. And I promise it’s not because I’m bitter about the socks. This mosque used to have the largest carpet in the world (until the record was broken by Abu Dhabi), but the carpet didn’t fit the room properly — the corners were all bunched up against the pillars and the lines in the pattern in the carpet had been stretched so they were not longer straight, but wobbled their way around the room. Minor details, but the finishing should be immaculate if you’re talking about a record breaking mosque (I think it’s currently the 7th largest in the world).

The ceilings had dark wood inlay with gorgeous crystal chandeliers hanging all over the room. This sad picture of the dome is the only one I got. For scale, look at the picture below. That huge structure is the small arch in the bottom center of this picture. The place is enormous.

Close up of the front of the prayer room and the tile work that covered the walls and the dome.

part of the dome

This is the largest of the chandeliers that hangs from the central dome. It sparkled with all different colors: red, blue, white — the photos are a pale comparison to the real thing.

By zooming in, my camera caught a tiny bit of the color. It was all white, but the way the crystals were cut caught the light and illuminated it like it was made of a million little prisms.

These gorgeous arched windows lined both sides of the room.

In Abu Dhabi, we were able to walk on the carpet, sit on the carpet, feel the carpet. Here we had to walk on blue sheets that were laid out all over the floor with only a small portion of the carpet exposed. Our visit to the mosque in Muscat was like being invited to an open house. Walk through, look around, take a few pictures. Our visit to the mosque in Abu Dhabi was like being invited to a friend’s house — come in, sit down, let’s talk for a while.

Making sure to keep appropriate space between us so we don’t break the “no touching!” rule.

I gave a quick class in the art of self-photography

Aside from the initial trauma over my leg, the rest of the visit was uneventful. It was a grand mosque, but it still can’t topple my favorite. We’re planning on coming back with the kids (the 10 and older rule only applied to inside the mosque, not the grounds) and I’ll be sure to bring my own sock next time.

In the Zone

Today is Islamic New Year so Josh and the boys had the day off from school. To “celebrate” we spent the morning at Adventure Zone.

Each time we visit it’s clear how much Camille is growing and changing — this time she was climbing up the stairs, walking across the rope bridge, and trying to do everything her brothers did.