Privacy Please, hon!

You haven't seen me here lately because I am close, SO CLOSE to finishing the first draft of the wildest, goofiest, sexiest thriller ever to hit Ocean City, Maryland. I've mentally gone downy ocean, hon, and I'll be back before you know it with a story as salty and vinegary as a bucket of Thrasher's Fries.

My Own Home State

My brother-in-law and his son, Easton, MD

I spent most of this fall in my home state of Maryland. Each time I return there I am struck by its beauty. This post is an effort to capture a glimpse of the place where I am from, and the people I love who are still there. 

Michael taking my sister and her husband out for a sail, Easton

We rented a beautiful place for our family to get together for a few days, on the Eastern Shore. The house was right on the Miles River, which feeds into the Chesapeake Bay.

The girls, Easton

It was a chilly September evening, but my two eldest nieces were not going to let the swimming pool go to waste....

Shoes! Easton

The adults wore flip flops, but my nephew preferred sturdier hiking sandals.

Headquarters, Greenbelt

Our home base this year was the home of my dear friend Kim (having two Kims in the house did sometimes get confusing), and her husband Joe. I stayed much longer than I had planned, but Kim and Joe were endlessly welcoming. Well, Joe did start using "goddamn" as an honorific when addressing my husband, but that was just his way of showing that he cares.

Kim and a chilled Chardonnay Viognier, Greenbelt

Most days ended with wine and snacks, and the house was full of conversation and easy laughter. I liked this chardonnay viognier blend, but the most memorable bottle we drank was a Blank Ankle Vineyards 2006 Crumbling Rock red table wine. Black Ankle is a Mt. Airy vineyard, and it's great that the days of describing a bottle as "pretty good, you know, considering it's a Maryland wine" are over. Black Ankle is winning national awards, and can be served without any apologies whatsoever. 

Baxter reporting for duty, Greenbelt

This is Baxter, our handsome Siberian Boxer Beagle. He lives with his other family in Greenbelt now, because it would have been too awful to transplant a husky mix to the Saudi desert. He came over to Kim and Joe's house for visits while I was in town. Here he is staking his claim to the spot under the dining table. His job is to anchor people's feet as they dine.

 GVFD Crab Feast, Greenbelt

We timed our trip so that we could be home to help sling crabs and pour drinks at the Greenbelt Volunteer Fire Department annual fundraising crab feast. This is the fire department where Michael volunteered as a medic when we lived in Greenbelt. I recaptured a little of the satisfaction that comes with volunteering in your hometown when I put on my old company 35 t-shirt and hauled trays of crabs from the steamer truck into the firehall, to the tables packed full of my friends and former neighbors.

Service with a Smile, GVFD, Greenbelt

My eldest niece ate her share of crabs, and then decided it would be more fun to help her grandma and aunt and uncle at the crab feast than to just sit around. The next generation of volunteering has begun!

Garden Party at David and Jan's, Cheverly

For the second year in a row, our friends David and Jan feted our return to Maryland. David is my oldest friend, though he's really not that old! (Why isn't there a word for the person who has been your friend longer than anyone else?) ANYway, this year they put on a gorgeous lunch in their back garden, together with their next door neighbor Andrea, with whom we have become friends thanks to David and Jan.

Drinks and fruit, Cheverly

David and the Elephant Ears, Cheverly

Every year David's garden is more lush, and now he's also hatching plans for Andrea's yard. He gave me the tour after I sprayed on the usual half can of mosquito repellent. Many other people can wander around Maryland unprotected. Not me. 

Kim and Greg, skatin' it up! Laurel

Kim is a retired DC Roller Girl, and her newest thing is learning to dance skate. I thought dance skating was the pinnacle of coolness when I was a junior high schooler. Kim and her friend (and rink guard) Greg took me skating a a few times at Laurel Skate Center, which is also where I went skating when I was a kid. They say you can never go back, but I went back to Laurel Skate Center and it was EXACTLY the same. 

Kims on Wheels, Laurel

They've still got the same sign on the back wall that lights up to say "all skate," "reverse," "trios," and "slow down." And the disco ball? It's still spinning, and those flashes of light chasing my wheels across the roller rink floor were still magic, just like when I was eleven.

 Trailer of pumpkins, kid not included, Greenbelt

I was in Greenbelt for several Sundays, so of course I visited Greenbelt Farmers Market. It is not the same: it's getting better! This year, several new vendors signed on, including a crepe vendor! We had our eye on that crepe stand when we were visiting other area markets four years in in preparation for founding the Greenbelt market. Now people do their shopping, then get a crepe and sit in the grass next to the city parking lot and visit with friends while everybody's kids run around together. What a perfect Sunday morning! The market has just closed for the season, but it'll open again next spring.

Greenbelt Lake path, Greenbelt

Now I'm back in Saudi Arabia, full from a potluck American Thanksgiving feast. I am feeling grateful for my new life here, and also glowing with gratitude for my family, for my Stateside friends, and for the beautiful State of Maryland.

Crossing into Paradise

A Christiansted watering hole

In August, we flew from crisp, squeaky clean Switzerland to lushly humid and cheerfully ramshackle St. Croix. The largest of the three U.S. Virgin Islands is exactly unlike Switzerland. Let's generalize, shall we? In my five days in Switzerland, I saw roads and trains and public utilities that seemed scrupulously well-maintained; trim, chic and sturdy architecture; immaculately maintained parks and vineyards; and a mood of cheerful efficiency.

Forty-eight hours later, my cousin Perry picked us up at the airport in St. Croix. The Cruzan Rum stand by the open-air baggage carousel was open for business. However, it took some time to find the luggage attendant and determine that our bags had not been loaded onto the prop plane that flew us in from Puerto Rico. As we drove into Christiansted, I noticed jungly undergrowth threatening to creep across the road and swallow it. We stopped at the market for some groceries and picked out single beers from the cooler by the cash register, because the island has no law against drinking and driving.

A roadside plea to the power company

On the way to my cousin's place, we saw a sign tacked onto a sawhorse next to the road. On it, a homeowner had scrawled a desperate plea for the power company to help them because their electricity had been knocked out by a big storm that happened months ago. I was told the power company doesn't generally answer the phone. 

Christiansted back street scene

Back home on the estate property that Perry's husband Chad manages, we punched in a code to open the heavy iron gates, and drove up the hill to a beautifully maintained and completely self-sufficient resort. Estate Belvedere, like other well-managed island properties, has back-up plans for power, water, and security. That's the way it is.

The juxtaposition of these two places within such a short period of time was an eye-opening illustration of what different social contracts can look like. I'm not here to make a value judgement; I'm just noticing the difference. In Switzerland, taxes are high (though the difference in tax rates between Switzerland and the U.S. was not as significant as I would have guessed), but citizens expect clean, efficient, good-quality public utilities and services. In St. Croix, citizens pay U.S. federal taxes but no local taxes. Here, the people who can afford it have a back-up plan for even the most basic of services, because, well, the power company doesn't generally answer the phone.

The view from Estate Belvedere

Armchair social commentary aside, St. Croix is a paradise, even in the "off" summer season. It's humid, but the air is sweet and soft and the ocean breezes are ever-present. It's hot, but the pace is leisurely. The roads are iffy, but the radio's got plenty of old-style reggae on it. And the land is lusciously green and the water is turquoisey blue and the clouds put on a show across the wide sky. It is beautiful, so beautiful that the pictures of it don't look real.

The view from Frederiksted

Michael and I spent about a week in St. Croix, diving and snorkeling and boating in the warm Caribbean waters, and exploring the island. Perry and Chad are both certified as dive instructors. So I felt like I was in good hands, even though I got dive certified just this last spring and this was only my second dive trip. We explored the canyons at Salt River, and Chad and I saw a blacktip shark. Chad spotted it, tapped my arm, pointed off to our right, and then placed his hand perpendicularly against his forehead, like a kid playing "shark" in the swimming pool. The shark was maybe 50 feet away from us, and turned and swam in the other direction. Wow!

Note to potential travelers: rent a Jeep in St. Croix. The stone facade behind the Jeep is a remnant of a wall from the sugar plantation that once stood here.

We rented this snazzy red Jeep for the week. When I was making the travel arrangements, I thought I was being kind of silly by choosing this Jeep instead of a normal econo-rental. However, now I understand that parts of the island would have been impassable without it.

Rainforest Road

We spent an afternoon at an organic farm in the mountainous rainforest area of St. Croix. We were in search of vegetables for the family dinner we were going to cook that night at the estate, so we followed the road as it narrowed and went from paved, to gravel, to dirt, finally winding its way to the Ridge to Reef Farm.

Community house at Ridge to Reef Farm

They were packing up and preparing for the farmers market in Frederiksted when we arrived. They did have a few things to sell us, though: bananas, and some homemade jam.

Bananas ripening at Ridge to Reef Farm

The porch at Ridge to Reef's Community House

We had to wait a little while for someone to help us with our purchases. We walked around the farm, and then kicked back here on the porch. Not a bad way to spend some time. That evening, Chad made dessert. He chopped up the bananas and browned them quickly in a skillet, tossing in some Cruzan spiced rum and lighting the whole thing on fire! Delicious.

You put the straw in the coconut and drink it all up!

Perry told me her sister once asked her when she was planning on moving back to the States. "Never!" Perry said. She lives in a Caribbean island paradise. Why would she go back?

Cousins, reunited after 25 years

The Iron Road

The view from the bottom

We walked a path through farmers' fields to reach the trailhead on a crystal-clear Swiss morning, up a trail, a set of steep wooden steps built into the hillside. Then we spotted the cable mounted on the side of the hill, next to a nearly vertical track uphill. We scrabbled upwards, and soon reached the first series of ladders and handholds and footholds attached securely into the rock.

A metal "road" underfoot, a cable to clip into at waist height.

My husband and I were climbing for the first time on a trail called a "via ferrata," Italian for "iron road." Our mellow and patient Swiss friend Dmitri guided us. Mountain routes that would otherwise be inacessible--or at least really hard for people who aren't climbing experts--are made passable with ladders, hand- and footholds, bridges, and cables that can be clipped into. In this way, climbers can clip in to the cable and follow the route, knowing that a slip might mean a bump or a scrape, but will not likely lead to a terrible fall. The Italians created a series of iron roads to move troops during World War I, but the trail we were following was a new one near Martigny, Switzerland.

Clipped in and climbing

Ladder rungs are mounted into the rock outcroppings. Foot pedal-like footholds are placed where the natural rock hand- and footholds are lacking. Wire bridges span chasms. Running as a literal lifeline alongside these is a cable that traces the route continuously from start to finish.

We wore climbing harnesses with two short ropes attached. At the end of each rope was a carabiner. As we climbed, we clipped the carabiners into the cable, and those ropes ensured that if we fell, we wouldn’t fall far. Periodically, the cable threaded through an eye-bolt mounted in the rock. Each time we reached one of these eye-bolts, we would unhook one carabiner, and re-hook it on the far side. Then we would unhook the other carabiner, and re-hook it on the far side. In this way, we were never fully untethered from the cable.

Acting cool on the outside before it was my turn....

The most extreme part of the climb was when we had to cross a wire bridge strung across a chasm hundreds of feet above a waterfall and a rushing stream. There I felt newly grateful for the yogic notion of "drishti." A drishti is a point of focus, a single spot onto which you can insistently, belligerently screw your eyes in order to create steadiness and balance. 

Crossing the chasm

Before that late-August day, I had only used drishti to create more steady postures in yoga class. But that afternoon, as the clear Alpine sun shone down on my head, the only thing I could do was fix my eyes on a spot straight ahead of me on the cable, forward of my front foot, and take one step forward, and then another, and then another. Slowly, deliberately, the air moved in and out of my lungs. Right and left hands slid down the two waist-high cables, feet were carefully placed one in front of the other on the cable forming the bottom point of a three-strand triangle spanning two vertical rock faces. 

Downhill through the vineyards to finish

We climbed to the halfway mark on the trail, where there is a connection to a road winding back down the mountain, through a vineyard. The second half of the trail was closed because a search and rescue training drill was in progress. The climb had been a walk in the park for Dmitri, but my arms and legs were getting shaky from exhaustion and adrenaline, and I was relieved not to have a via ferrata trail just as long ahead of me as I had behind me.

It was a terrifying experience, and I want to do it again. I like the single-mindedness of climbing, and I suppose that’s partly because there are consequences to letting my mind drift. I love the feeling that comes with reaching further than I thought I could, the fire in my legs when I plant my foot on the next higher spot and then straighten up to my full height. It’s a sport that motivates me to become more strong and more flexible, and it makes trips to the gym and sessions on the yoga mat feel more purpose-driven. 

I am looking forward to doing more climbing, both outdoors and on the climbing wall. It’s pretty thrilling to discover this sport in my 40s. I just celebrated my 42^nd birthday, and it’s great to feel like I’m still getting stronger as I get older.

 (Thank you, Michael Cooney, for all of the photographs in this post.)

Ramadan and Repat

Traditional nighttime Iftar feast, to break the daytime fast during Ramadan

The month-long Ramadan celebration started on August 1st. For the next moon cycle, Muslims will fast during the daylight hours, and then break their fast with the traditional Iftar meal at sundown. I went for a walk through the neighborhood last night at around 9 p.m., and passed several households that were brightly lit, the driveways and curbs crowded with cars. I can picture the dining tables inside these houses in a few hours, groaning with food and surrounded by family and friends until the early morning hours. 

This morning Michael came home from his first night shift during this Ramadan and declared that he would eat nothing until he went to work again this evening. He is a paramedic, so he has a “hurry up and wait” pace at work. When there are no patients to attend to, his shift is quiet, especially at night. Last night, though, his Saudi colleagues brought in a huge midnight Iftar feast, and he stayed up all night eating and visiting.

Other than the night-time Ramadan celebrations, August looks like a ghost town on our compound, with most of the resident expats off on holiday. On my night walks, I can stroll down the middle of the street and not be passed by a single car. I don’t even try to do anything outside during daylight hours, and I have been watching too much TV. I can’t seem to work up the motivation to do much of anything.

Time stands still during the afternoon when it’s hottest, and I feel the overwhelming pull of the couch for afternoon siestas. Time also seems to jump instantly forward: another day has gone by, the white-hot sky has dimmed into blackness, and where did all those hours go?

All this hermit-like behavior makes me feel sluggish and throws off my internal clock. Am I sleepy, or just hot? It feels wrong to stay indoors, breathing air-conditioned air all the time and avoiding the sunlight.

Up the chimney on the climbing wall at our community's school gym

That said, my activity level has also been swinging to the other extreme: I have been improving my technique on the climbing wall in the gym at the nearby school. Also, a friend has been giving me swimming lessons (I already knew how to swim, but until now nobody ever taught me the proper way to do the various strokes.) A few times I have hauled myself out to the track shortly after dawn for some desultory jogging laps. Also, the gyms in our community (we have separate gym facilities for men and women) just got new equipment, and I have been getting a little carried away there with the fancy new weights. Plus, my yoga students are commenting that I have been cranking up the intensity in recent classes. I'm discovering that the secret to success as a couch potato is to find the proper balance balance between utter, slovenly sluggishness and intense physical activity.

Shannon, my dear friend and ruthless swim coach

I am counting the days until my husband and I take our long annual holiday outside the Kingdom. Saudi law requires that we leave the Kingdom for at least a couple of weeks each year. Expats call this "repat," short for repatriation. Not that Saudi Arabia cares whether we actually return to our home country or not. We just have to leave this one. No problem! We will leave in late August, and our first stop will be in Switzerland, to visit some friends Michael made last summer when he was in Zanzibar. 

Estate Belvedere, St. Croix

Next we will go to St. Croix and stay with my cousin and her husband, who manage the Estate Belvedere, a four acre guest estate that includes the ruins of a 1700s sugar mill. There I'll get to meet her two children for the first time. New cousins! We hope to do some boating, diving and snorkeling there, and enjoy beautiful sunsets with fruity rum drinks in hand. I can’t believe my good fortune, to have a crazy-fun cousin who actually lives on a Caribbean island!

Our last Sunday night potluck dinner before we left the U.S.

After St. Croix, we’ll go to Maryland and spend a few weeks catching up with friends and family. Part of our time will be in our hometown of Greenbelt, which will be celebrating Labor Day as only a New Deal-era planned community can, with a three-day festival and a parade. We’ll also enjoy a few Sunday dinners with the group of friends we’d been having Sunday potluck with for the last ten years or so before we left the country. Of all the things I miss about living in Greenbelt, Sunday potluck dinner is at the top of the list.

Ocean City Boardwalk

While in Maryland, we’ll also spend some time at our family condo in Ocean City. (Marketing plug! Did you know that I wrote a travel guide to Ocean City? It’s the most recent, most definitive guide to Maryland’s seaside resort!)

Idyllic Eastern Shore spot for our big family celebration

Plus, we’ll spend several days on the Chesapeake Bay on Maryland's Eastern Shore. We rented a house big enough for our entire extended family, and there we will have our annual all-purpose family holiday. We call it Thanksbirthmas. Since we only make it home once a year, we have one giant blow-out dinner party and present exchange. I love this new tradition that our family has started, and this year we’ll get to enjoy it in a quintessentially Maryland spot, on the water between Easton and St. Michael’s on the Eastern Shore. It’s fun to plan a trip home as a visitor. We’re like tourists who already know all the good spots, and we will actually have time to kick back and enjoy our home state.

At the end of September, we will head back to Saudi Arabia, suitcases full of things that cannot be had in our newly adopted country: Old Bay Seasoning, Q-Tips, Optive eye drops, My Organic Market decaffeinated coffee, Glide Dental Floss, and new clothes in sizes that fit my 6’4” husband.

As much as I’m looking forward to our travels, I am sure we’ll be just as excited about returning to our own home sweet desert home.