Back in the Kingdom

Yes, I know, I'm as surprised as you are. I'm back in the land of camels and bad driving. I gave Japan the old college try, but alas, after living on a coca cola diet and champagne salary, it was too hard to go back to a coca cola diet and coca cola salary. Not that Japan wasn't without it's charms--it lived up to it's reputation, but it occurred to me that I was getting a little long in the tooth to be scraping by month to month without putting anything away. It wasn't long before my employer sensed my discontent and we mutually agreed it would be best if we parted ways.

Since I was the cost of a plane ticket to Japan out of pocket anyway, I decided to do a little traveling. I spent a few days in Osaka and then flew to Kuala Lumpur. I spent the next couple months doing some soul searching as I made my way from Malaysia, into Thailand, Cambodia, and finally Vietnam (you can read about my escapades here: http://bradystravellog.blogspot.com/). Although my plan was originally to continue on westward into Burma, India and Nepal, by the time I got to Hanoi I felt travel weary and decided the best thing would be to take respite in Canada and look for a new job in the Kingdom. After all, my last contract had been the final stake to the heart of my student loan, so why not accrue a whole year in the kingdom's worth of savings?

And so, I came to spend the next three month in Canada, bouncing back and forth between Chilliwack, where my parents graciously endured me, and Vancouver where I would stay on the couches of assorted hooligans, such as my brother, who also graciously endured me. Friends and family in Grand Forks also graciously endured me. There was much enduring. It took about two months to finally find a contract and another month for my feet to hit the sand. Happily, I had time to see everyone who was worth seeing and got to spend some quality time with my parents. Was it providence giving me a chance to say goodbye to a Canada that I wouldn't see for years? Will I continue my expatriate lifestyle for the foreseeable future?

Al Hofuf is considerably larger than Rabigh. It's big enough to include all the modern amenities, but small enough that one with a vehicle and a little free time could be well enough acquainted with most of it's various places of interest. It's is, on the whole, a fairly forgettable city, dominated by vehicles, unfriendly to pedestrians, and  lined with endless drab apartment buildings and small shops, most bearing the hue of tobacco-stained teeth. Occasionally, here or there, a patch of green grass appears, and a good amount of palm-tree laden parks, where you can throw down a sheet and have a tea. There are three big malls and a railway station, where you can take a train to Riyadh or Dammam.

The school where I work, is owned by the National Industrial Training Institute. It is fifteen minute drive from my apartment, and quite outside of town. It has a highway on one side, and desert on the other. The campus is massive. There are for academic blocks. that are all adjoined, with technical training wings attached to both ends. I guess it to be about five hundred meters from one end to the other. At the moment, only two blocks are in operation, and already we have over sixty English and Maths instructors (there are, additionally, technical instructors). I don't bother getting lunch at the cafeteria, because it's takes fifteen minutes just to walk there and back to the teacher's room.

In order to keep this blog public I won't go into the sordid details about what I think about the way the school is managed and operates. I hope it will suffice to say that it's a total SNAFU. The students, while on the whole are moderately better than the ones I encountered in Rabigh, are again, on whole, still very poor students. There are, however, some very good students, and indeed, some very good classes...which to encounter are always a bit shocking.

The teachers are a good bunch. Or course, there are, as you would expect a fair number of odd and eccentric people (I don't exclude myself from either designation), but they all appear to be good-natured and well meaning. They are at various stages of their careers, with the youngest being, perhaps twenty five, and the oldest being perhaps sixty. They are mostly from The UK, and USA, with a few Canadians here and there. They are not the most social lot, but there is hope--a maths teacher and I have instigated Thursday night football (soccer) and it's proved to be quite popular.

I have found myself with a good deal of free time, and have resolved to make the most of it. My primary activities are: walking, going to the gym, meditating, reading (fiction in French, non-fiction in English), and studying Arabic and maths. I figure in the absence of women and alcohol, I might as well try to better myself, rather than falling into lesser vices, such as watching television, and playing video games. I sometimes miss the western lifestyle, but less often than one might think. Immersing myself in my hobbies is satisfying enough that I'm not too concerned about what my lifestyle is lacking.

That is not to say that I wouldn't love to leave the country. I have been here two months and I am eager to get out to Bahrain, Qatar, or the Emirates for a weekend. The trouble is, I have to first receive my iqama (residency card) and then apply for an exit/re-entry visa. Foolish me--I explicitly asked for an employment visa in order to get an iqama. Little did I know that with the alternative  (a business visa), the company would be obliged to fly me home every three months to have the visa renewed. The other advantage of the business visa is the ability to leave and re-enter the country at will. On the other hand, having an iqama will allow me to purchase a vehicle an more importantly, requires the company to give me a contract (which teachers on the business visa do not have).

The good  news is that serendipitously, all of my old chums are now working in Riyadh, at various institutions. One of whom, as well as an old friend from Korea are living on a compound, which ostensibly means I have access to alcohol inside of the kingdom. So Riyadh is only a short train ride away, should I need to get out of Al-Hofuf, take a break from the Saudi lifestyle and enjoy the company of some good friends.

So, that is, in broad strokes, my experience so far. Although, I do not intend to continue this blog in the same spirit that it was written in during my first year here (frequent postings, lots of pictures, and a style that attempted popular appeal) I intend to update this blog occasionally primarily for the sake of friends and family. I'll be taking the same approach as I did in this entry--longer pieces, without (or minimal) photographs. Until next time, salaam.












 

So Long and Thanks for All the Khapsa

It’s been nothing if not an eventful year. I carried on a long distance relationship for seven months only to have it implode upon that distance being closed. I had wild flings in the wake. I’ve seen France, Budapest (twice), Taiwan and Sri Lanka. I reunited with an old friend whom I haven’t seen in over ten years and met his wonderful family. I survived an entire year living in a strict Islamic theocracy, teaching some of the worst students I am ever likely to encounter anywhere. I’ve made new friends. I’ve picked up the basics of another language. I’ve experienced what it is like to be firmly middle-class, and have made enough money to pay off my student loan, at last. 

And now it’s time to go. 

Despite the adventure it is been, I am very happy to be moving on. I am looking forward to enjoying the liberties of my own country and Japan. But there are things I’m going to miss about Saudi Arabia. I’ll miss the evenings, which depending on the time of year, are either warm or cool, but are always good for walking. I’ll miss the cheap goods and services, and having more than enough money to buy whatever I want. I’ll miss the easy-going good-naturedness of Saudis. I’ll miss meeting people from a variety of ethnic and cultural backgrounds that I usually don’t get to meet in Canada. I’ll miss studying and practicing Arabic. I’ll miss the weekend trips to Jeddah, Yanbu or the Economic City.  Most of all, I’ll miss my friends.

This last month, having the freedom to experience living here without the distraction of work, I think I’ve gotten some real insight into what it means to be Saudi. Although this country is probably the most strictly Theocratic place on Earth, outside of certain parts of Syria and Iraq, let me tell you, it’s only on the face of it. Young people here are just as wild and hungry for experience as young people in other parts of the world. They drink, they do drugs, watch movies and listen to music. They like to party and they have boyfriends and girlfriends. The only difference is that they are covert. It all has to be done carefully, in secret. 

Nor is the piety what you might expect from a county that is, on paper, one hundred per cent Muslim. As far as I can tell most Saudis do not pray five times a day—and some, I am sure, do not pray at all. Like in any country, there are good people there are bad people, and there are every shade of grey. As one might expect, depending on their own religious leanings, piety and quality of character don’t seem to have a direct relationship. There are pious Muslims that are wonderful, lovely people; and there are non-devout Muslims that are also wonderful, lovely people. Similarly, there are both devout and non-devout Muslims who are brutish and nasty.

Western media likes to paint a picture of Muslims in general as violent, irrational, freedom hating people, or at the very least, it focuses entirely on those Muslims that happen to be so. Of course, it’s true that there are these kinds of people all over the world, in every culture, in every religion. Even, as I am loathe to admit, within Buddhism. Of course, whenever a Muslim points out to me that in Myanmar, there are Buddhists, even Buddhist monks murdering Muslims, I am always quick to point out that these cannot be REAL Buddhists: that the first precept, even for lay followers is not to kill. Similarly, when the subject of the Islamic State, comes up in the office, they are always discredited for the same reason: real Muslims do not murder. Verses of the Quran are always cited to support this assertion. 

When crazy people storm into the offices of French cartoonists and shoot everyone inside, they don’t do it because they are “extremists”, they do it because they are crazy. Very, very few people within the Muslim community condone this kind of behaviour. I worked with a guy who, upon our first meeting told me I was going to go to hell for not believing in God and calls non-believers “infidels” behinds their backs. He gets into fights with the other Muslims over small matters of faith, doesn’t get along with anybody, and has threatened violence to several members of the staff. In short, he’s bat-shit crazy, and obsessed with the letter of Islam. But as zealous and mentally unstable as he is, I can’t imagine even him murdering people for his faith. It takes a rare bird indeed.

Saudi Arabia is a country that is changing quickly. Ten years ago people thought that women would never be seen walking around without head scarfs. But I’ve seen in numerous times—in King Abdullah Economic City (owned by Dubai investors), and even in the malls in Jeddah. 

Speaking of his highness, he does not appear to have much more time on this Earth, and his successor is likely to bring in more liberal legislation. Actually, King Abdullah himself has approved legislation that will, for the first time, make tourist visas available in Saudi Arabia. I don’t know, his decision may be motivated by him understanding the need to diversify the Saudi economy more than anything else. And granted: it is already easy to obtain visas for hajj and umrah.  None-the-less, it will open the county up to people of all walks of life, and with them, new perspective and new ideas.

To be perfectly honest, Saudis are in desperate need of a little insight into the way the rest of the world works—especially in the field of education. The quality of education here is shameful. Running a classroom here is a constant battle, and it’s exhausting. Frankly, after a while, you just stop giving a damn. A colleague confided in me today, “I’ve stopped doing all the things I used to try and make this a better place. Now, I do nothing, and nobody has noticed.” I could only nod.  The standards here are shockingly low.

I’m glad for having the experience to teach here, and I’ll be benefiting from the money I made for years, but I think it’s actually made me a worse teacher. Working here has made me complacent and lazy. I got paid very well, but there was zero accountability. Literally none of my students passed this last trimester. I tried. Oh God how I tried. But in the end, the utter incompetence of students who had only gotten to where they are because of cheating, coupled with an out-right refusal to learn on one side, and the incompetence of the administration, who refused to listen to, much less adapt things to instructor feedback made any hope of effectively English next to impossible.   

Which is one very big reason why I have decided to leave and teach in Japan.  I will be teaching adults. Adults who have had a proper education, and actually know how to learn. Gods be praised! Instead of spending classroom time reminding students to put their phones away, get their pens from their lockers, stop chatting while I’m giving instructions et cetera, I’ll be able to teach. I don’t care if I’m taking a fifty per cent pay cut—it’s going to be worth it. Also because I won’t be living in a country that thinks where I put my penis is government business.

So, it’s goodbye sand and palm trees; hello mountains and cherry blossoms. Goodbye camels and sweet dates; hello panda bears and sushi. Goodbye thobes, and shmougs; hello kimonos and baseball caps. Saudi Arabia, it’s been a slice, but it’s time for me to go. So long, and thanks for all the khapsa.

And thanks for all of you who have kept up with my blog this past year. Knowing people have been reading has kept me motivated to write. Doing so has enriched my life, and I hope it has in some way enriched yours.

Peace, Love, and Pizza

Brady  

The Penultimate Post?

T minus six days until lift-off...inshallah.
Boy, am I ready to get out of here. I haven't had a good night of sleep in five days or so. Evidently, my body has decided to protest Saudi Arabia, and is pretending I'm in Canada already. I don't get tired until twelve in the afternoon, and by the time twelve midnight rolls around, I'm no longer tired. Why would I be? That's lunchtime in Vancouver, after all.

I can't fix it with drugs. I went to one pharmacy to ask them for sleeping medication. They gave me antihistamines. Not surprisingly, they didn't help. I went to a second pharmacy, and they gave me actual sleep medication made with Valerian root. I took a double-dose, but no luck. My usual go-to, melatonin, which is available over the counter in every drug-store in Canada, is no where to be found, much less prescribed.

I've been up all night trying to sleep, and too tired during the day to do much of anything. I imagine, this is what purgatory is like.

Come to think of it, this past month has been rather purgatory-like. Since coming back from my final vacation in Budapest, due to a lack of new student admissions, I have been allowed to fulfill the remainder of my contract relaxing at home. I know, poor me, right? The problem, is I'm stuck in Rabigh. Christmas and New Year's came and went. There were no celebrations, no merry-making, and indeed, barely a mention of the holiday at all.

It wasn't that depressing--I have only spent two Christmases at home in the past five years, and even when at home, my family generally doesn't make that big of a deal out it. I went for kebab with my colleague, Dave, one of the few non-Muslims I know in Rabigh. Afterwards, I went home. I probably had tea later with friends. Purgatory.

Indeed, discounting the vacations, that's really been what this year has been like--a big old meh. These days, when trying to go to sleep, I just try to focus on the void. The void is empty, it's big beyond imagining, and incredibly peaceful. But I can never hold my attention on it for long, and I end up laying in bed for eight fucking hours, getting more and more frustrated. I'm not ready for this bland existence. I don't want my life to be meh anymore. I want to have a little color in my life. Even if that leads to more hang-overs and heart-aches, so be it, at least live will have some flavor. Next year, I want to put up a Christmas tree, and later, puke over somebody's balcony. They have Christmas in Japan, right?

I had hoped to be filling these meh days with scuba dives. The one thing I really wanted to achieve before leaving Rabigh was getting my PADI license. Even though a group of us started in November, we have yet to finish, and were I to leave things in the hands the others, I would never get my license. So after much cajoling, I've attempted to get it done without the group. I've met privately with the instructor to write the final exam, and have arranged with him to do my final dives this Thursday and Friday--my final two days in the country. I've been pushing for this for months, and if it actually get's done, it's going to be right on the wire.

Similarly, I feel obliged to harass HR for my plane ticket home. After much haranguing, I have obtained my final exit visa, and form for my final payment remittance...but I've got less than a week left in the country, and still no ticket. It's imperative that I acquire it on time as my passport expires only a few days after my end of contract date and every day that I'm stuck here, in purgatory, is another day I won't be able to spend with friends and family before shipping off to Japan in February.

Give me heaven, or give me hell, just get me out of here, Allah.

A Saudi Picnic

These past couple of weeks have predictably making me stir crazy. I've been spending too much time at home and too much time playing video games. Despite having made a schedule produced explicitly to keep me in good health mental, physically and emotionally, I really needed to get out of Rabigh for a while. Thus it came as a boon when a coworker suggested that we hold a picnic at a place he knows, just out of town.
In three cars a group of about ten of us made our way out to Mathew's mysterious campground. In the forty minutes or so it took to get there, I was astounded by the diversity of the landscape--no really! Here it was flat and sandy, then covered with shrubs, then it was hilly, then covered in boulders with little trees popping up here and there. Eventually, we ended up in a a small valley, with a shallow (but far-reaching) lake. It was a bona-fide  desert oasis. There were flocks of goats, and even camels! We had our picnic under a copse of palm trees. 

Some years ago, I read the short novel, Ismael, in which the author suggests that this part of the world was once covered in lush greenery, and that it is now barren because of man's unsustainable habits. The trip was a reminder that things really do grow in Arabia, especially in this western region--in fact tenaciously. I found myself wondering just how correct the author of Ishmael really was.

I mean, once thing is for sure: Arabia was once covered in vegetation, and inhabited by a massive amount of wildlife. We know this because of the enormous subterranean seas of oil. The only question is if there weren't endless herds of goats stripping the landscape of plant life, would the peninsula look much different?

I'm guessing it would. As the colleague who organized the trip mentioned, there used to be lions here, but the natives killed them all off. So, if there are no predators, even if there were herds of goats, sheep, camels, or whatever that weren't counted as livestock, they would not linger in any given place. Instead of stripping the ground of vegetation, they would eats some, then move on, propelled forward by predators, spreading seeds, and fertilizing the ground as they go.

Modern man has gone a step further. A few meters from where we sat to have our picnic, one could find, here and there, among the hundreds of discarded water bottles, shot-gun shells, and the corpses of massive hawks. Clearly not shot for food, as their entire corpses were intact--but purely for the fun of it. Sometimes I think Saudis have a deep seeded resentment for all living things and are doing all they can to erase life in the peninsula altogether.

None the less, it was a nice place to picnic. I was excited to see camels so close to our picnic site, and got quite close to one in order to take its picture. Evidently, it became very curious of me as it began walking towards me then following me back to the picnic site. I was a little alarmed, until one of my colleagues approached and petted the animal. It was docile, but decided to turn away when it got closer to the group of us. 

When the sun began to set, a few of us decided to hike around the surrounding area awhile. The ground was soft and muddy for several meters where the water had recently receded. I avoided the soft ground by walking on an elevated ridge, and then hiking up one side of the valley. There was a plateau on top, and I was amazed to see that around the jagged rocks thereupon, spouted beautiful, bright green grass. The view was really nice. I could see the water stretch onwards as far as the eye could see towards the north.

We left shortly after I came down from the plateau.  The excursion was brief, but pleasant, and for a while Arabia didn't seem like such an inhospitable environment. It was a welcome break.

Christmas in Saudi Arabia (or My Daily Routine)

Christmas in Saudi Arabia just another day. In fact, had I not been sent a Merry Christmas message from my parents, I just may have forgotten it completely. It's still hot and dry. There are still five prayers, and everyone is going to work. Except for me of, course--I'm still enjoying my extended holiday. Anyway, it's just a normal day, like any other, bearing no special significance here, whatsoever.

But how does one spend one's day, when he is stuck in Saudi Arabia, with nothing to do all day? Well, listen, one must make a schedule, if one hopes not to fall into the abyss of madness. So I wrote myself one on a page from a small notepad and fixed to my wall with duct tape, so I don't forget.

My schedule suggests that I wake up at ten AM. This, as it turns out was being optimistic. In reality, most days, like today, I'm up by the crack of noon, after enjoying a healthy ten hours of sleep. File under: finally I get to relive my teenage years, or now I know what it's like to be an Arabian.

Next comes tea time. I make my self a cup of green tea and slowly sip it, while sitting on my little couch. I don't do anything else during this time--no TV, or reading, or whatever. Just listening to my thoughts...which usually whisk me off to somewhere in the civilized world.

After tea time, I do my morning yoga routine. I contort my body into all sorts of weird positions, all the while wondering how in the hell I gained so much weight. I do both of these things for half and hour to forty-five minutes. And then usually make breakfast.

Breakfast usually consists of a gigantic salad made from whatever vegetables I bought the day before. I'm trying to repair some of the havok wreaked on my system from eating cafeteria food at the institute for a year. It's a slow process, but I think in time, I'll begin to feel like a human being again.

Then it's time for chores. I must finally be an adult--I've scheduled clean-up time for myself. This usually means cleaning up in the kitchen first. I have to do it, because no one else will. To be fair, I don't think anyone else ever goes into the kitchen, so I guess that's fair. Then I clean up my room and do laundry or whatever. I know. It's a thrilling life.

Next it's meditation time. I sit on a cushion for half an hour an focus on breathing. You would be amazed at the kinds of crap the mind starts spewing out when you're meditating. It's a fascinating phenomenon--it's like the mind doesn't want to be quiet, and if you ask it too, it throws a temper tantrum, making even more noise!

But by the time the thirty minutes are up, my mind is usually nice and clear for study time. I usually crack open my Learning Arabic textbook, and slog my way trough a couple of pages over the following forty five minutes to an hour, and maybe watch some incomprehensible Egyptian television.

Then it's off to the Arabian Palm hotel, where I am now. I've scheduled two hours for writing, but as it turns out, like my wake-up time, two hours was a bit ambitious. So, I just write until I get bored. That's what I'm doing now, by the way! I go to the Palm for two reasons: first to get out of the house, and second, because it has the best internet in Rabigh...so when I'm done writing I can download movies, or play online games.

At which point, I've entered the free time portion of my day, which extends to about nine o'clock, when I put in the headphones and walk for two hours, in a desperate attempt to lose some of the extra twenty pounds I've gained here before returning to Canada, and ultimately arriving in Japan.

The rest of the day, you can usually find me playing video games or having tea with my colleagues. I expect tonight we will be eating mindi in lieu of turkey dinner.

Merry Christmas from the Kingdom!

Getting a PADI License in the Kingdom

In Saudi Arabia, you have to make your own fun, but that's not always a bad thing. It encourages you to learn new things and try activities you have never tried before. Last June, I went on a Discovery Scuba dive with some of my colleagues in Yanbu. We took a boat out into the ocean, and got a taste of scuba diving. Since then we have been trying to get things organized to get out PADI diving licenses.

The main reason it took so long, was we were waiting for the school's safety officer to upgrade his accreditation, so he could be part of the training. But, in the end it was worth it, because are doing the bulk of the training in Rabigh, which means that I finally get to spend time in the Petro Rabigh compound!

So we finally got started with this thing about a month ago. Our instructor is a Philipino dive master from Jeddah. He is fluent in English, but his grammar is atrocious. He's about as wide as he is tall and has hands like hams. Very nice guy, with a ton of experience. We were given a book to study and a video to watch.

Since out initial meeting, we've met three times to do knowledge reviews, quizzes and tests. One benefit of having our safety officer on board has been that we have been able to have the meetings on campus. Unfortunately, getting people organized has been a comedy of errors--people are always late, or don't show up...and of the six of us who signed up, two have already dropped out.

In fact, originally, we planned to be finished the training by now, but we have only done one pool dive, and half of the text book. I guess we're really going to have to step it up if we want to get finish the training by the time my contract is up. I'm sure we will though.

So, the training has been a bit of hassle, but it's worth while. Scuba diving is a really cool experience. It's like entering a whole new world. All of your senses are augmented: all sounds are amplified, your sense of equilibrium goes crazy, your sense of size and distance is skewed. The coolest thing: you're moving in three-dimentional space. The feeling of weightlessness is delightful. And of course, you're surrounded by nature...at least if you're not doing a pool dive!

The best part: it's affordable too. For the course, and basic equipment (wetsuit, fins, mask, boots, snorkel and bag) it will have costed me about $750.



PS, for those interested, I recently did a guest post for my friend Carl's (AKA Duke Stewart) travel website. Check it out: http://dukestewartwrites.com/travel-enlightenment-part-1/

When It Rains, It Pours

Nine months out of the year, it's hellishly hot in western Saudi Arabia, and during that time, there's so little condensation that if it 'rains', it usually comes down as dirty globs of spittle for about an hour and then stops completely. Luckily, from November to January, the weather is actually very pleasant, and occasionally, it actually rains proper rain...which tends to lead to utter fucking chaos, since there isn't the proper infrastructure to deal with it!

Recently, at our school, a few minutes into the fourth block, it started to rain--not in the aforementioned "spittle" way, but real, honest-to-goodness, civilized world kind of rain. Of course, all of the trainees rushed to the window to witness this most wonderful of natural phenomenons, as if it was the first time in their lives they have ever witnessed such an event. Water? From the SKY? What strange magic is this? Basically, once it starts raining, there's a camel's chance in Siberia that the students (being a mere twenty-two years old, on average) will be able to pay attention, or go to the next class.

And so it was when in really started coming down. Now this building wasn't built with rain in mind, so there are electrical outlets on the floors--like actually coming out of the floor itself. And, rain has a habit, in some classrooms of coming in through closed windows, pooling on the floor, and creeping towards the electrical outlets. Such was my concern while the students all crowded outside to check out the rain. We ended up cutting off the electricity to the buildings and letting the students go, which was kind of nice, because we got half of the day off too.

I took the opportunity to drive around with a colleague and take pictures of the city. For a while, I felt like Rabigh wasn't so bad, after all.

Riding around, we could see big pools of water here and there, on and off the street. Not surprising, seeing as how there are no storm drains, or even a sewer system in Rabigh. Also not surprisingly, we saw a couple car accidents. Bonus: while driving around, we saw a herd of camels too!

All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon off, and all thanks to Saudis having no idea how to cope with rain. It happened again Sunday morning, so school was cancelled again...even though it turned out to be a sunny day. The best part: this was all on the heels of the king asking everyone to pray for rain!

Coming Up on the Final Stretch

It's been more than nine months since I arrived in Saudi Arabia, and I've got to do some serious thinking about what happens next. Should I endure Saudi Arabia for another year? Are the fat paycheck and the vast swaths of vacation time worth it? Or should  I go back out into the world and experience a new country while I am still young and full of vigor? Should I take my earnings and spend the next year traveling the world? Or should I pay back what's left of my student loan, and hurry home to rack up a new one?

I'm always weighing the pros and cons of living in the Kingdom. The job is, frankly, a cakewalk...which isn't always a good thing. Because I am not held up to very high standards, the incentive to grow as a teacher and reach for excellence isn't always there. The money is good--but I have to make a lot of sacrifices for it: I have to live in a back-water burg in a theocratic dictatorship which regards alcohol, premarital sex and dating, music, even cinema as sinful--and illegal. It's not danger pay--it's desert pay. They give us tons of vacation time, which is nice, but the cost of plane tickets adds up after a while--and no one who hasn't had their brains baked solid wants to stay in Saudi during time off. All things considered, I don't think I can handle another year. I can see myself coming back eventually, but I need a break.

I am tempted to throw caution to the wind, and buy a sixty liter backpack and just travel. I had this idea to start out in Tunisia to practice my French, and then work my way west across north Africa, cross over to Spain, swing over to Portugal before making my way into France, check out Marseille and cross over Italy into Austria to arrive in Hungary and visit my good friend Dave and his family. From there, I would decide whether I wanted to continue on into China (via Siberian express) go home, or whatever.

The responsible part of me wants to go back to Canada, study to get my teacher's license and become a bona fide teacher, to start a master's degree in creative writing or linguistics, or to get some kind of technical writing accreditation--but probably not in Vancouver; Ontario or Quebec would suit me better. The irresponsible part of me wants to go back to Canada, pick up a guitar, start writing songs and learn to paint while I work on the great Canadian novel. I love that part of me, but it lacks discipline!

BUT, what I will most likely end up doing is find a job teaching English in either Japan, Taiwan or Singapore. All three countries have something different to offer: for me, Japan has always had a powerful mystique about it, and I've wanted to go there since I was a teenager. Taiwan has Taipei, which is maybe my favorite city anywhere. And Singapore offers a slightly higher paying job, which requires fewer hours, and in which I would teach to students who already speak English. Of these options, Japan seems like the best, because there I can get a four month contract, which I can renew if I like the place, or not if I decide to move on to somewhere else.

So, those are the options on the table. Should I be responsible, or reckless? Should I stay in Saudi, go home, or go someplace new? Who knows? Thankfully, I'm not anxious. I have faith that the best option will assert itself in time...and time will tell!

Sri Lanka Pt. 2

Having done basically zero research before heading out on my adventure, I was unaware that I could not take a bus directly from Anuradhapura to Sigiriya. I had thought that Sigiriya was a town, and not just an ancient natural wonder/stone fortress. Then again, it might actually be a town after all. It's sometimes a little hard to tell in Sri Lanka...

Taking the mini-bus from Anuradhapura to Dambulla, it struck me that Anuradhapura was much more spread out than I had initially thought. There seemed no end to the road-side buildings, be they stores, houses, or whatever. Eventually, I realized, that's just how it was in Sri Lanka. Also to my surprise, the only road available for the entire journey was a two lanes; there was one lane for each direction. This prompted many hair-raising, and nearly disastrous passing maneuvers. I thought it was absurd that there was such a narrow road connecting Sri Lanka's two most important tourist destinations. Later I would learn that there wasn't even a highway connect Kandy to Colombo--Sri Lanka's two biggest cities!

In Dambulla, I stubbornly ignored tuk-tuks and resolved to walk out of the city center in order to find accommodation. Eventually I found a place with wi-fi for only fifteen hundred rupees. I got a tuk-tuk to the bus station and soon was on my way to Sigiriya: The Lion Rock. Sigiriya is a isolated pillar of rock, which inexplicably rises several hundred feet from ground, with a smaller mini-mountain to the east, but otherwise isolated in it's own little valley.  I must admit, it was pretty cool. I understand that a very long time ago it was a Buddhist monastery, then for a short time converted to a fortress by a usurper king...and then reverted back to a monastery once that king had been deposed. The weather was excellent the scenery was impressive, and the rock itself was a marvel. The only drawbacks were the ticket price, which at three-thousand-nine-hundred rupees was even more expensive than the Anuradhapura circuit; and the throngs of Chinese tourists which were want to impede the progress of those behind them by stopping every twenty meters for group photo shoots. 

By twelve noon I had climbed the rock, checked out a nearby temple, returned to Dambulla and hopped a bus to Kandy. Having witnessed the madness of Colombo, I feared the worst for Sir Lanka's second city. But actually, it was kind of nice. It was way up in the the mountains, there seemed to be a real downtown area, and it just seemed way more chill than Colombo. Someone even showed me where to find an internet cafe without asking me for money...although he did offer to show me the Temple of the Tooth after depositing me at the cafe. I found a decent hotel that overlooked the lake, that didn't cost too much. There, I relaxed on the top floor, an open-air restaurant and did my nightly ritual of drinking Lion beer and checking my messages. The only other people up there were a Dutch couple and the staff.  I chatted to with the owner. He told me how once every couple of days, then monkeys would show up and he would give them something to eat. As the sun went down, a colony of fruit bats made their way past the hotel. Later I went for dinner with the Dutch couple.

Upon  returning to my room, I finished reading the only book I had brought with me--a meditation guide by a Buddhist monk in the Theravada tradition. The book left a bad taste in my mouth that, combined with what I had so far seen of Buddhism in Sri Lanka, left me feeling disenchanted with the religion I had loved for so long. In the book, the end goal of the Buddhist path, Nibana, is described as a remainderless cessation of being. I was aware of this concept before--in fact it's at the very heart of Buddhism. It's sometimes described as a "return to original mind" or the cessation of clinging. But the author I was reading, staunchly denied all that as "making something out of nothing", and wrote it off as foolishness. However, he made no attempt whatsoever to explain why anyone would want such a thing (especially seeing as how the states leading up to enlightenment are supremely blissful), and did very little to explain the old Buddhist conundrum: if there is no self, then what is it that reincarnates? His explanation: the "doer" and the "knower" are both illusions. But then, I wondered, what is it that's aware that the knower is an illusion? How is any of this even possible at all? What vague explanations the author gave towards the end of the book were mostly just references to the suttas. And I thought Buddhists were above that kind of appeal to authority. 



By the next day, my mind was full of dissatisfaction with Buddhism, and I felt very much aggravated that I had put so much stock into this religion for so long. Such was my mindset as I approached the famous "Temople of the Tooth", a Buddhist temple, which houses a tooth taken from the Buddha's funeral pyre. I thought about skipping it and going straight to the bus station, but thought I might as well do something memorable while I was in Kandy. So I approached the entrance, and was asked to change out of my shorts into a pair of pants. As I did so, the man that asked me to change served as a human curtain. I asked him if he was Buddhist and queried him about why anyone would want nibbana. Like a good Buddhist, he immediately replied it was the end of suffering. I told him I didn't understand why someone would want that. He had no reply. Shockingly, when I made the gesture to shake his hand, he remained unmoving and it seemed to me that he was equally perturbed by the notion of nibbana.

I got another shock when I was asked to pay admission. I have been to dozens of temples and churches, many far nicer than this one, and I never had to pay a fee. Not for Heinsa in Korea, which houses the Tripitaka Koreana, nor for Notre Dame in Paris. Donations boxes yes, entry tickets, no. I begrudgingly forked over a thousand rupees, rebuked a "tour guide", who of course began to offer his service before asking me if I wanted it, and made my way into the temple...and immediately thought about turning back. Throngs of devotes clogged the temple, again carrying lotus flowers, this time to offer up to Buddha's tooth before praying to it. After fighting my way up the stairs, it soon became clear that I wasn't going to get anywhere near the tooth, or whatever container it was housed in. So I just continued on, and looked about the very forgettable temple. In another room, there was another relic, and with lotus flowers offer up to it. There was a sign that warned against smelling the flowers-ostensibly because they were for the Buddha only. Superstitious idiocy.

In yet another room, there were a series of paintings that told the story of the tooth--from it's being dug out of the Buddha's funeral pyre to it's present location. It turned out that it had quite a rich history, and that it had even been instrumental in sparking warfare. There was even a painting that claimed that it resisted attempts to destroy it, claiming it had withstood the impact of a sledge hammer then levitated into the air and shone like a beacon, for some damn reason. I went through one museum they didn't make me pay for, but skipped a second they wanted money for. I left the temple in disgust. I would never call myself a Buddhist again, as I was occasionally prone to do, in order to simplify my beliefs. Buddhism, it seemed to me then was no better or rational than any of the other world religions, which I has so often criticized.  

Making my way to the bus station, I had decided I had seen enough things for one trip. It was time to go to the south and enjoy the beach. I had to return to Colombo first, but there turned out to be a highway to the southern province. Hallelujah! I arrived in Galle by sunset, and by sheer coincidence ran into a fellow named Walter, with whom I had worked in Rabigh for two days before he was transferred to Jeddah. We decided to travel together and went to Hikkaduwa beach,which turned out to be a bust, and the next day went to Unawatuna, where I would spend my remaining three days, and Walter would spend his remaining two. I did very little of note during those three days, mainly sipping assorted alcohols on the beach and going for the odd trek every so often. By the time the three days were up I was thoroughly relaxed.

Before heading back to Colombo, I explored the fort at Galle, which was very nice indeed. I stayed at the hostel I had began with, watched a movie, had a final bottle of beer, and took a snooze before taking my 2 AM cab to the airport. One of the hostel workers asked me how I like Sri Lanka. I told him is it was nice. He asked me when I would be back, and I replied: never.  

EID Vacation: Sri Lanka (Pt.1)

Well, this was unexpected. Four weeks into classes, and it's time for vacation again. Game on. Having just gotten back from vacation, my main criterion for the break was to find someplace cheap. I new basically nothing about Sri Lanka, but a return ticket was under $700, and some quick web research confirmed my suspicions that the in-country expenses would be minimal. Away we go.

I had expected to spend the majority of my time in Colombo, sipping tea and sketching from a comfortable sea-side perch. Colombo was not the city I expected. Colombo is not even a city. Colombo is many little cities with no space in between them. Really--they even have names, like "Pettah", where the train station is and "Havelock City", where my hostel was. Alternatively, you can call them "Colombo 01" and "Colombo 05" respectively. Imagine, if  you will, a metropolitan area of 4.5 million people AND NO CITY PLANNING WHATSOEVER. That's Colombo. My hostel, quite removed from any beach or metropolitan center was located smack dab in the middle of this gigantic dog's breakfast called Colombo.



I gave it day. I found the ocean but there wasn't any beach. To my amazement, instead of developing the Oceanside property with walkways, bike paths, basketball courts and the like, inexplicably there was only a railway. Well, at least the passengers would have a nice view! I was walking along the coast when I was convinced to go to a Buddhist-temple by a would-be scammer who insisted that we go see the "elephant ceremony" that would miss if we didn't go right away. I must admit, the temple was interesting, but the "elephant ceremony" ended up being a chained up baby elephant eating plantain leaves. By that point, I was well aware of what was going on--he was taking me on a tour that I hadn't asked for, and would bill me for it later. Leaving the temple, I told him to take a hike, and then had it out with the tuk-tuk driver that had brought us to the temple: our clever tour guide's accomplice.

That evening, I had some drinks with some of the others staying at the hostel. The lightweights were weeded out over a game of King's Cup and the rest of us eventually found ourselves at a very forgettable nightclub. We had a round of drinks and left. The next morning, I decided Colombo wasn't worth another day. The hostel lacked sufficient guidebooks, or maps, so I went online, picked out five tourist attractions, found them on a map, and wrote them down in my notebook, in what I thought was a logical order and headed for the train station. The names I wrote down were: Anuradhapura, Sigiriya, Kandy, Adam's Peak and Galle.

I found the train station and after some tribulation, namely standing dick to ass in a a ticketing room for half an hour, I procured my first class train ticket for one thousand rupees and got on the train to Anuradhapura. I could have gotten third class for two hundred-fifty, but the thought of standing dick to ass in a hot, sweaty cab for three and a half hours deterred me. I arrived in Anuradhapura somewhat after dark. As I got off the train I was immediately aware of two things: I had no idea where the fuck I was, and if I didn't start looking like I knew where I was going immediately, I would be accosted by throngs of tuk-tuk drivers like so many mosquitoes at a Colombo hostel. So I just started walking in the direction I assumed was towards town.



Before long a van slowed beside me and the man inside predictably asked me where I was going. I said downtown. He said I could jump in. So I did, but instead of dropping me off downtown, he just kept driving, insisting that I see his hostel. Seeing as how I had no idea who this nutter was, I told him to stop the fucking van or I would jump out. Only when I had the door half way open did he relent and turn the van around. This time he passed through town and took another turn, saying that I should check out the hotel he decided to drop me off at and if I didn't like it, he would take me to his hostel. I told him in no uncertain terms that I was not going with him anywhere and that he should fuck off. He still waited for me to come out of the hotel, and I had to tell him to get lost again.  I waited until he was out of sight until I started walking. I made my way back into town, found a restaurant, hired a tuk, and eventually found a decent place for a reasonable price.  

The next day, I hired a tuk-tuk driver named Douchematar (I remember his name because it's one letter away from being "Douche Master") to take me to Sri Jaya Maha Bodhi--the oldest intentionally planted tree in the world, which grew from a cutting from the tree under which Siddhartha Gotama reached enlightenment. I had hoped against hope that I would be able to meditate under the tree. No such luck: it was raised on a platform out of reach from ordinary folk. On all sides foolish people prayed to the tree and offered it lotus blossoms. Neither for the first nor the last time during the trip I though to myself, these people don't understand Buddhism at all. I was quite a nice tree as trees go, however, and I was able to procure a couple of leaves which had fallen to the ground.   

The rest of the morning and a few hours into the afternoon, Douchematar drove me around and endless succession of ruins and stupas, for which I had to buy a ticket for twenty five hundred rupees (ouch!). Douchematar first asked that I buy a ticket for him, but when I refused, it turned out not to be a problem, as he could drive around the sites anyway. Nice try, Douche. When we finished, Douchematar dropped me at the bus station (the wrong one) and drove off with a cool fifteen hundred rupees. I think that must have been my most expensive day in Sri Lanka! Eventually I found the right bus stop, crammed in, and made the very stressful and uncomfortable journey to Dambulla.

To be continued in part two...

The Incredible Benefits of Working in Saudi Arabia

Today, I'll be writing a bit about the fall semester so far, in order to show how low-stress and rewarding being employed in Saudi Arabia can be.

After coming back from vacation a month ago, we teachers spent the first week doing very little. We cleaned our desks, we proctored re-sits for students who had failed to show up to their exams the previous month. Our schedules weren't ready, so we couldn't preview what we would be teaching so, I spent most of the week drilling Arabic vocabulary.

At the beginning of the second week I got my schedule, and to my amazement and delight, I had a mere nineteen classroom hours. Additionally, I would be teaching classes wherein the trainees would not be given grades, and in which I could significantly alter the syllabus. I have zero responsibility to make the students test-passers, as they will not be tested on material taught in my class, which means we can have some fun!. I take teaching seriously, but I believe that classes should be engaging. This semester, I could really test that theory. I could see what works, and what doesn't, and hopeful get they students excited about learning.




To make matters even better, in addition to teaching a section of level three students, I got a section of new recruits, which are for the most part very bright and well-behaved. They are so well behaved that I'm starting to feel less like a baby-sitter and more like an actual honest to God teacher. 

The first four week went fairly well...

And now because of Eid al-Adha, we're all on vacation again. Originally, I thought it would only be ten days, but it turned out to be fifteen. So, I've been relaxing in Rabigh since last Thursday, studying Arabic, doing Yoga, practicing meditation, wandering around, and all of the other things I enjoy that are legal in Rabigh. Tomorrow, I fly to Sri Lanka, where I'll spend the next ten days, and do some things which are NOT legal here.

When I get back, we will have eight more weeks of classes, and then we will be off on vacation once again...and if decide not to renew my contract, I'll have just over a month after that until I am free to wander the world, go back to visit Canada, or go seek employment elsewhere.

Coming soon: Sri Lanka

Driving is Insane in Saudi Arabia

Eight months in, and I got in my first car accident in Saudi Arabia. FINALLY. Gosh, I though it was never going to happen. I kept asking myself, "what is wrong with me? Am I that unattractive that no one in this entire country is going to violently smash their vehicle into mine?

I've mentioned it before, but I figure now is good time to devote an entry to driving in Saudi Arabia. It's insane. The infrastructure is screwy, the drivers think they're formula one hopefuls, gas is literally cheaper than water, and the cops are ambivalent. Small wonder it's often  harder to spot a vehicle that doesn't have obvious body damage than one that does.

The accident my roommate and I were in, as you can see, was relatively minor. Perhaps in describing it, I can give some insight into a typical driving experience here. Context: there are no stop signs, nor are their dividing lines painted on the road. So. We were just arriving home. My roommate, Erron was driving. He banked slightly right, before he turned left into the parking spot, so he could park straight. While he was banking right, a truck ran straight through the four-way, tried to pass us on the left, so he hit us as we were turning.

When the cop came to the scene, he was as relaxed as a sloth in a tree. While he listened to both Erron and the other driver tell their accounts, he didn't seem particularly interested in either.  In fact, he didn't even step out of his vechicle to take a proper look at the accident, let alone take pictures. All the while, cars were passing the accident on the left and the right, which didn't seem to bother the policeman at all. He seemingly arbitrary surmised that the it was twenty-five per cent Erron's fault and seventy-five percent the other driver's fault.

I hope this gets sorted out soon, so we can get another rental...but I'm not keeping my fingers crossed. 


As reckless as the drivers are here, it's a wonder that there aren't more accidents. Last night, I saw a kid in a smashed-up car blaze down the street toward Rabigh's busiest intersection, pull up obliquely in front of first cars in line waiting for the red to change, and then run the light. I wish this were atypical--but it's not. And dimes to dollars no one wrote down his license plate number or called the police.
 
The problem lies not only with poor driving habits, but also with the poor infrastructure. If there were a stop sign in place, maybe just maybe that guy would have at least slowed down and avoided hitting us. It should be tougher to get a license. But even if it were harder, this is Saudi Arabia, and if you have wasta (influence), or know someone with wasta, you can get around just about anything. Cops need to start giving more tickets--they clearly don't do this enough. I think part of the reason why, is that if they stop a Saudi, they will argue with them...and if they have wasta, they may even threaten them!

Proper infrastructure should be put it place. It would help...although it would still be dangerous. People here drive like absolute maniacs. Why? Maybe because it's the only fun thing you're allowed to do here. Especially for young men. Back home, kids would have other outlets. They could go to rock concerts, go out with girls, go see a movie or go compete in a sporting event. (You're allowed to do sports here, it's just too hot and there isn't much interest). But here there is nothing. So kids get in their cars, and they go "drifting", which means they drive so bloody fast that the tires are barely touching the road.

This means that people die. Every trimester one of the trainees is either seriously injured or dies in an auto accident. Every one of my trainees knows someone who has died in an auto accident. Last trimester, two of out instructors got into a serious auto accident because a Saudi was driving recklessly. The instructor who was driving was not wearing a seat belt, and he was thrown through the window. The other shattered his right leg, and had to crawl out of the burning wreckage. He came quite close to dying after contracting pneumonia as a result of third-rate medical treatment.  

Of course, the terrible road planning doesn't help. Sometimes you have to make some inconvenient detours in able to turn around and get to where you want to go. This results in people driving on the wrong side of the street. The traffic lights are terrible: they are often placed several feet before the intersection, so drivers can't see the lights turn, and often they just guess. Also. there isn't any paint on the road to speak of--rarely do you come across a four-way stop, there are few zebra crossings, and not often there aren't even lines in the middle of the road. So, people often act like the rules that those marking as are there to remind us of don't exist! People drive in the middle of the road, they go through four ways without stopping. God help you if you're a pedestrian walking across the street if there's a car coming.

So, yeah. The driving here is insane. If you've never been to these parts before, and decide to drive. Please exercise caution!

Extra-Saudi Special: Budapest Hungary VS. Taipei, Taiwan

At the request of my good friend David, fellow ESL teacher and Hungarian resident, the following is a comparison of two fantastic, but very different cities: Budapest and Hungary. I had the pleasure of visiting Budapest for the first time last April, and fell in love with the city. This last vacation, I went to Taiwan, and fell in love all over again with Taipei. It's difficult to say which is the objectively better city, so I'll compare based on different aspects and then declare a winner!

Architecture 

Budapest is resplendent with gorgeous architecture spanning centuries back in time to the present. It has been called The Paris of the East, and not without good reason. Although, not much has been added to it's splendor from the communist era, the university, the parliament building and the castle, the bath house, churches and a plethora of Parisian-style apartment buildings enrich the city with their anachronistic and distinctly European charm.

As late as the nineteen-seventies, the Taiwanese still imagined they would make conquest of mainland China, so much of Taipei is still dominated by dull, blocky, and frankly ugly buildings. There are some notable exceptions, like the Grand Hotel, Chaing Kai Shek memorial, and the theaters that flank it. And in addition, the old, drab structures are rapidly giving way to modern buildings, Taipei 101 being the superlative example.

Taipei is looking better all the time, but even in ten or twenty years when most of the old buildings have been replaced, it won't have any of the richness of character than Budapest has now. For that reason, if nothing else Budapest gets the prize for best architecture.
   

Green Space 

Sadly, I while I was in Hungary, I didn't get a chance to get out of the city. Although I do understand that the country is very nice indeed, especially around the massive lake Balaton. Never mind. There is plenty of trees and greenery on the city itself, particularly around the citadel...or pretty much anywhere. Budapest is of a temperate climate, but it's a warm temperate, and the city is symbiotically intertwined with nature, making it a very nice city to be in all year 'round.

Taiwan is a beautiful island from top to bottom, and in particular in Toroko gorge on the east coast. But again, we're not comparing the countries as a whole--were comparing the capitals. Unfortunately, much of Taipei is crowded with the aforementioned ghastly architecture, crammed around narrow streets bereft of anything green save the vegetables aged Tawianese are want to flog on the sidewalks. However, Taipei is a big city and there is a lot to love in the way of nature, which is all accessible from the excellent metro. From lush the Maokong area, accessible by Gondola, and Yangminshan, with it's hot springs to the north, to the many riverside paths and swimming holes, to the very central, and superbly laid-out Daan Park, to Fulong beach (yes, I know it's outside the city, but come on, it's only a shorty train ride away), Taipei offers exceptional variety for lovers of the outdoors...although you may have to go a bit out of your way to get there.

The verdict: a tie! Although Budapest has perfectly integrated green space into it's urban environment, Taipei offers more variety.

Amenities

Although Budapest is not the largest, nor the most modern of cities (both advantages to my mind), it does have all of the amenities one could hope for: shopping malls, casinos, theaters, nice hotels. It has Thai massage places. It has at least one chiropractor. You can get whatever you want in terms of recreational pharmaceuticals (if you know who to ask). There are all sorts of restaurants, and the beer selection is exquisite. The public bath is the best I've ever seen. There are museums, and parks galore. There are bars in spades. And nice cafes. The only thing I'm not sure of is the music scene, although I've got a hunch there's a pretty decent one.  

Taiwan: it doesn't have the amazing outdoor bath, but it has some pretty fantastic indoor ones. It has massage parlors galore, which are significantly more affordable than the ones in Budapest. There are chiropractors. Plus there are a gajillion acupuncture/Chinese medicine clinics. There are even places with good beers selections. Plus it's hella-bigger, so naturally, there is all sorts of other neat stuff, like the zoo, gondolas, tea houses, etc. 

Taiwan.

People

Hungarians are fantastic. They are polite, warm-hearted, generous, kind, amorous, down-to-earth, and intelligent. And their women are gorgeous...aw heck, they're all pretty good looking. 

Taiwanese are very pleasant people as well. They have the same work ethic, wherewithal,  and community spirit that Koreans have...but unlike Koreans, they are open-minded, creative, forward-thinking, and not terribly racist against foreigners.* Also, Taiwanese girls are to die for.

Tie!

 

Cost of Living

Hungary, by European standards is very cheap indeed. You'll pay about seven dollars, Canadian for a movie ticket. Even a very good meal will seldom cost more than ten dollars. A pint of draft beer will run you about three dollars in a pub. But here's the big thing: the cost of real-estate is low. How low you ask? So low, young couples can still afford to get a mortgage. Wow!

Actually, the prices in Taipei for a lot of things are pretty much on par with those in Budapest. The main differences are that there are a lot of (night) markets with cheap stuff from China, you can get a quick and dirt meal for three dollars, home baked electronics (ex. Asus) are a bit cheaper, and buying real estate is super expensive--although renting is curiously cheap.

Taipei is cheaper...as long as you're renting.

Food

Hungary is world famous for its meats and it's produce. A tour of the fruits and vegetable stalls, and hole in the wall butcher shops will not let you leave without a full grocery bag in each hand, and a lustful dream of the night's dinner.  If you don't feel like cooking, you can be sure to find a restaurant to suit your  tastes, whatever they might be!

Taiwanese food, frankly is nothing to write home about. Mostly bland Chinese food and dumplings. The hot-pots are good though !Oh, and the night markets have some interesting (if not delicious) foods, like blood pudding on a stick, covered with spicy peanut powder. Try the bubble tea though!

Overall Livability 

Budapest is a really beautiful city. It's steeped in culture. The architecture is amazing. The food is fantastic. The people: warm-hearted. It's affordable. There are all the amenities. There are wide open spaces. There is a charming tram. Gypsies fill the streets with music. Couples kiss openly in public. Young artists sketch along the river. Pretty much anywhere is the perfect place for a jog. It's Shangri-La under a different name. The only problem is that everyone speaks Hungarian...oh well, you can sort of get by on English?

Taiwan is a prince of a city. Located on the norther tip of a tropical island paradise. Ideologically, and geographically positioned between China and the United States. A bustling metropolis, with open spaces, and a thousand and one things to do. Affordable on any budget. Full of adorable Taiwanese girls. And you can definitely get by just speaking English...you can also land a job teaching ESL quite easily!

I love you Taiwan, but Budapest is just so damn pleasant. The winner is Budapest.


The Grand Champion: Budapest.

Although, I must end by saying that Taiwan is an amazing city and I would be happier than a pig in mud to live there.






*Don't get me wrong--Koreans will welcome you into their homes, or they will take you out for a night of drinking and foot the bill, but they will not be happy to know you're dating their daughters. 

Summer Vacation Part Three: Pandas to Camels

No matter how unreasonably long the vacation, it's never quite long enough. I was in Taiwan just long enough for it to start to feel like home. I felt myself reluctant to go, having fallen in love with the city and the people. Although, to my surprise, after a couple of days in Arabia, I am not at all discontent with being here. It has allowed me to slow down, relax, and reflect--things I seemed unable to bring myself to do while still in Taiwan. Now, I find that I am torn between wanting to stay in Saudi for the long haul, not just so I can save heaps of money, but so I can enjoy long vacations, travel the world, and live a peaceful, reflective lifestyle in between; and jumping on the next plane back to Taipei, so I can enjoy all of the things I really love about life all year long.



My final two weeks in Taipei, like the previous two, was flurry of activity. I wrote the previous entry from the coastal city of Haulien, which serves as a jumping-off point for exploring the stunningly beautiful Torko Gorge, for which Formosa (the beautiful island) was named. Although, most the majority of the trails were officially closed off due to damage from the recent typhoon, in surprisingly short order, I found a very good trail, which lasted several kilometers up a mountain, which lead to an isolated tribal village. Indeed, I crossed paths with two brown-skinned Taiwan natives with face-tattoos coming down the mountain as I was on my way up.

Despite the beauty of Toroko Gorge, after only two days in Haulien, I felt myself drawn back to my beloved Taipei. Full disclosure--I was going back for a girl...which very quickly proved to be a bad idea. So, from that point on I spend most of my vacation chasing various women...which at the time seemed perfectly sensible, knowing full well that in a very short time I would be back in the land of fig trees and chastity. After several dates, meetings and hang-outs, I found my self ill-satisfied, and finally ready to throw my hands up in defeat, finally willing to stop and actually pay mind to those damn emotions whirring around inside, begging for the attention which they had been denied up until that point. And then, against all odds and expectations, I spent my last few days with an amazing woman, who just so happened to be in the same situation as myself...and whom I haven't been able to stop thinking about since. 



Thus, I have come to realize that there really are some truly wonderful women in Taiwan, who are fun, clever, good-humored, and down to Earth--and willing to date a guy like me. Why wouldn't I want to live in a city like this? I could spend my free time doing the things I love--biking, hiking, doing yoga, and even Aikido. With some luck, I could even shack up with a pretty little Taiwanese girl. I could eat healthy food and drink craft beer. I could learn Chinese. I could live in relative freedom and delight in the finer things in life! I would have to work harder, I would get paid less, and I would have far less vacation time but I could truly enjoy life one day to the next, if I lived in Taiwan. 

During my two days in Korea, before flying back to Arabia, I was surprised at how crowded and oppressive Korea suddenly seemed. And when I got back to Arabia at last, I was equally taken aback by the emptiness and chaos. I how I longed for that happy medium to which I had grown so accustomed for the past month. But that feeling changed rather quickly. I was immediately and intensely discontented...but it forced me to stop. That was a great boon; my need to constantly be moving in Taipei was doing no good for my emotional well-being. People often complain about living in Rabigh, but it is peaceful. Also living here can be a big opportunity, if you have the right mindset. It's the perfect place for study, getting in shape, and learning new skills, if you have the requisite automotivation. The lack of places to go and women to chase can actually be considered a big advantage--and if one IS content to live here, as previously stated, the monetary rewards are considerable and the vacation time borders on absurd.



In my case, there are even more incentives to say: the work environment itself is constantly improving. Classes are becoming fewer, teacher support is getting better, and there are now real consequences for unruly students. If that is not enough, there is plenty of room for advancement in my company, and they offer free online master's degrees for employees.

So, in short, Arabia can offer me long-term financial security, professional development, time to develop skills independently, and more vacation time than I can shake a stick at. On the other hand, Taipei can offer me fun, companionship, the opportunity to develop skill in things I love, and a picaresque living environment.

I'm not sure what will happen. I would like to spend a year in Taipei...but the longer I'm back here, in Arabia, the more enticing staying another year seems. Things keep getting better here. Career-wise, it's really the opportunity of a lifetime. But then again, is any amount of money worth living life alone? Can you put a price tag on love? If I've learned anything from the past six months, it's that long-distance relationships do not work. I can no longer pretend that they do. So, I've got to re-think my game-plan. But what is my priority--money or love?