Anyone who has ever moved to a new place,
started a new job, picked up at a new school, or simply made a serious life
change, knows that there is a period of adjustment that is inevitable. When I was a young kid, my family moved from
Alaska to Virginia over the course of a summer.
My parents purchased an RV for the ride and there was one special seat
in that RV, right next to the door, that I made my own. I built “a little nest” as my mom used to
tell me. I can’t remember if I was
forced to take that seat by my older brothers or if I picked it on my own, but
it was my place. I haven’t changed much
in that regard. Whenever I move, I need
my apartment set up as fast as possible.
I work relentlessly for days until it feels like a home. For someone who has had 11 apartments/houses
in the last 12 years, this fact makes for a lot of nesting time. I tease my father for having a routine that
is unwavering. What he might not know,
or maybe he does, is that it is so noticeable to me because I share a lot of
the same qualities.
I do not like transition, and despite doing it a
lot, I even dread change in a way – because it is always associated with a
period of conversion from the happy life and routine that already exists to the
unknown. What keeps me in the cycle is
that I always love the outcome and I am always so happy that I took that
step. I have written about this before,
but my older brother once told me that “people like us need to live at least
50% of the time doing things that are outside of our comfort zone”. Even at the time, I knew he was right about
me. I think this is part of the reason
that I have loved the world of academia so much. Every 15 weeks there is a slight change to
the routine and a chance to reestablish and learn something new.
When I moved to Saudi at the end of 2010, I knew
that there would be an immense period of changeover; probably lasting longer
than any amount of transition time before it.
One of my favorite traits about my mother is that she can walk into a
room and know 10 people within 5 minutes.
She can create her own nest in a matter of a few short moments. I always think about this when I go to a new
place – just jump in and accept that you’re the new person and go for it. This is usually fairly easy to do, but in
Saudi, the story was a little different.
There is a moment after a change and after the rustled leaves of life
settle back down, where you realize that all of the networking, friend-making,
going to groups and meetings alone, and attempts at socializing, finally pay
off. You wake up one day and realize
that your nights are all full of events and friends, dinners and
get-togethers. It’s that twinkling of a
second where all of the hard work is realized.
Never has it taken me so long to get to that point after any new
venture, but a year and half after being here, it has finally happened. Saudi is such an underground and private
culture, that it took 18 months to find that niche...but I’m happy that it has
finally arrived, and proud of myself for having stuck through it, because the
people that I have met along the way, will always be apart of this
journey. It has also been a great lesson
in perseverance; a lesson that will no doubt impact any future changes from
here on out.
Last Thursday night I was honored to have been
invited to a high-end Saudi wedding.
Weddings in Saudi (at least this type of wedding) are a very esteemed
and glamorous event. Wearing my one and
only gown, I arrived at a huge building, whose insides were custom built for
this particular occasion. The National
Guard directed cars for the roughly 500-700 female guests to the entrance, where men in traditional military attire were waiting to open our doors. As you know, Saudi is in the desert – which implies that the aroma of flowers is very hard to come by, so I was fabulously surprised
when I entered and was hit in the face with a waft of thousands of fresh cut
flowers. After turning in my abaya and
finding a seat in an enormous room full of couches and chairs, with a large
isle down the middle that divided the room in half, I sat back and watched the
fashion show in front of me. Designer
gowns and shoes, diamonds and emeralds dripping from the ears, necks, and wrists
of women – it was like being at the Oscars.
Ironically, I later found out that people who did the lighting for the
wedding actually are the same people that do the lighting for the Oscars every
year.
Despite the amazing clothes, hair, and make up,
the culture of the event was just as remarkable. Since men and women cannot mingle, the room
was full of only women. However, there
were a few American and British male photographers walking around the
space. When they walked passed, many of
the women pulled scarves over their faces, because it is unseemly for women to
be photographed by a man, or to be in photographs in general. A few hours into the countless bites of the
most amazing chocolate I have ever had, the bride entered. She had a six-minute walk from the second
level, down a custom staircase, and onto the isle in the middle of the
room. She was alone; fathers do not
accompany brides in Saudi on this occasion (as is customary in the
states). Truth be told, the actual
wedding occurred two days prior, when the father of the bride signed his name
in a book, declaring her husband as her new guardian. My naivety took over a bit and I leaned to my
friend and asked her, “Whom is she walking towards?” Turns out, she was walking to a chair, on a
stage, at the end of the room. There was
no service. For the next 20 minutes,
women lined up to take pictures with her.
At one point, several of the brides friends partook in a Kuwaiti
tradition of pulling on black mesh cloth, lined in gold trim, with their names
written in Arabic, and did a short dance for the bride.
After this time, a group of 15 men (including
the groom) entered from the back of the space, dressed in traditional wedding
Thobes (a customary male garment), and made their way to the front of the room
where the bride was standing. Women
again covered their faces and the men did not divert their eyes, as it is
inappropriate to look at women. For the
next 10 minutes, only women in the family (from the bride and grooms side) took
pictures with the group, before everyone (including the bride and groom) exited
the room. During the entire night, this
half hour was the only time that the bride was present.
Several hours later, we were ushered into the
most beautiful room I have ever seen.
Dressed in deep purple, the giant room was lit by hundreds of crystal
sconces, each holding about 12 candles.
An 8 ½ foot cake decorated the doorway (the cake was never cut). Tables with flowers and food peppered the
room, but the real pièce de résistance was the food that lined
the walls on both sides. It would take
days to describe exactly how much food was there and how good it was.
Something worth noting is the timeframe that
this wedding occurred. I arrived at the
building, along with a friend who was also invited, at 10:30pm. The bride entered and left between the hours
of 1am and 2am, and dinner was served at 4am.
I left at 6am and there were still several hundred people at the
venue. No alcohol and no men, just women
rhythmically dancing to expected Arabic music.
The entire night, from start to finish, was the
best night that I have had in Saudi Arabia.
It was an amazing opportunity and is something that I will think about
and remember for the rest of my life.
Latin writer, Publilius Syrus, was the first person credited with saying
(although it has been adapted over the years), “A rolling stone gathers no
moss”. Respectfully, I have to disagree
with Syrus on this one. I may be a bit
of rolling stone right now in life, but I am gathering moss – these memories,
struggles, opportunities, and moments are my moss. They make up the part of my life that will
stick with me, long after I return home to my roots.
--Cat S.
