Sleepy Saturdays in San Juan Capistrano

Years ago, my husband and I discovered the sleepy old town of San Juan Capistrano on the way down to Orange County, CA. We initially heard about the Old Mission, where the legend goes that swallows fly there every spring and nest in the church bells or in tucked-away nests atop the tiled roofs of the Mission. We have visited the Mission several times, and absorbed the history represented there–books from the 1500s, ancient Catholic relics, a real priestly robe worn by Junipero Serra himself while ministering there.  But, one weekend over two years ago, we made the trek back to the sleepy old historic California town–only to discover there’s more there than meets the eye!  We found ourselves venturing down an unknown street and landed upon the Los Rios Historic District, down by the still busy train depot. Immediately, I fell in love!

The Los Rios District is a magical, utopian place for me. A walking street is lined with historic houses, window boxes, manicured rose bushes in front of white picket fences, garden shops, coffee shops, a lovely outdoor Tea Room, and even the largest petting zoo in California.  A couple months ago, we found ourselves here once again for a sleepy Saturday afternoon–exploring hidden nooks and crannies, eating at the historic Sarducci’s Restaurant (site of the old train depot), and even stopped off for afternoon tea in an old historic church building.  Here are some pictures of the Old Mission.

And now for some lovely pictures exploring the Los Rios Historic District–clever boutiques, housed in old cottages with front and back gardens, outdoor cafes and tea rooms, the busy train station where the Pacific Rail Liner drops travelers off for a quick bite to eat, white picket fences…and many hidden discoveries!

I always feel like I’ve stepped back in time when I visit this quaint old town.  It reminds me of a simpler time, when people weren’t glued to their i-phones and still wrote hand-written letters.  It even seems that residents are trapped in a time warp that involves tea on the front porch with neighborly greetings.  I can visit here and temporarily forget about responsibilities and unwind.

On this particular day, one poignant moment stands out in my mind: I was exploring behind a clothing boutique that had a secret garden, with the gardener busy at work.  While I was meandering around rose trellises and sniffing rosemary bushes, the Mission bells began to chime behind us.  The sound echoed in the warm, sweet air for what seemed like an eternity. I remarked to the shop keeper that I felt like I had died and gone to Heaven.  She said, “Yes, indeed. It’s magical, isn’t it?”

The Adventures of Dr. Chuckle and Mrs. Chai

Tomorrow is my 5 year wedding anniversary!  To some, maybe that’s not a big number to impress.  But in light of today’s society, that number seems somewhat significant!  I’ve thought a lot recently about the odds that we’ve overcome to get to that number.  And everyone loves a good love story, right?

You see, six years ago I moved to China!  I had already known and dated my husband for about a year (poor guy).  And we had both just graduated from the graduate school where we met in the Bay Area.  The decision was not an easy one to come to, but we made it together.  I remember him saying to me (knowing that he already loved me deeply), “You’re a bird, and I need to release you to fly.  If it’s meant to be, you’ll come back to me!” Yes, you might say that’s cliche…but if you really knew me…you’d know that I truly am a bird with wings who likes to fly around the globe.  It was truly a risk for him to say that. And yet also, I felt, the sign of a man who truly understood me.

So, our goodbye was tearful and surreal.  I tried to break up with him countless times, but he always said to me assuredly, “I’m your best friend. Who else is gonna walk through this journey with you?” I admitted he was right!  His stubborn determination to be with me held some weight.

And so, I took off.  Ran, really–to the gate–which was holding the plane for ME en route to China.  And all the scenes of our dating days flashed by in my head as I sprinted down the tarmac: The first time he held my hand on the bench behind the dorm with the moon just hanging over the San Francisco Bay in the distance and how natural it felt;  our first date, which lasted 8 hours in the historic North Beach section of San Fran–while getting kicked out of 3 different cafes because we stayed until closing. The countless coffee shops, day trips to beach towns, vineyards, festivals, farmers markets, ethnic restaurants….our first kiss on yet another bench overlooking the city skyline on the campus where we met.  We had countless laughs and adventures.

It was, in fact, his ability to make me laugh that first drew me to him.  I remember that one evening I came to the library to help a professor with some research, and was aided by Jeff who worked at the front desk.  He came over to my table and entertained me again and again, dancing his “oompa-loompa dance” and bringing me books.  We got shushed several times that night!  …Oh my, what had I done??  Why was I moving to China when someone was waiting for me on the other side of the Pacific?

I remember the first song I heard in China in a taxi the day after my arrival  “Moon River.”  A pang of sadness and incredulity swept over me.  Jeff had often sung that song, “Moon River, wider than a mile….” at random moments in our first year.  The memory of hearing his silly singing voice whenever he thought I needed a laugh was poignant.

The year that ensued was difficult for me as I struggled with culture shock, language, loneliness, injury & uncertainty about the future.  In my confusion and emotional upheavals, I often tried to break up with him.  But, again and again we talked and prayed.  I vented and cried to my “Huckleberry Friend.”  We began to dream together.  We developed a secret code language over the phone only we could understand.  He knew every moment of my journey, more than anyone else.  The distance across the ocean began to seem bigger and bigger.  At the same time, I was living my dream teaching overseas.  I loved my students, my classes, my new friends, my adventures in a land not my own.  By this time, I was adapting to life in China, learning more language, and getting culturally acclimated.  I felt alive, and that God was truly using me in the midst of the challenge.

In the meantime, Jeff was also pursuing one of his dreams.  He studied all during that year for the GRE and applied for countless PhD programs.  I’ll never forget the day he told me of his acceptance into Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, CA. I knew that I would have to make a huge decision whether to move to be with him (to another city I knew nothing about) or not.  His words echoed in my mind, “If it’s meant to be, I know you’ll come back to me.”  I stood in my third floor apartment one day and watched a distant plane slowly inch across the sky, and dreamed that I was on it, heading back to Jeff.

I suppose part of the reason I went to China was to hear clearly.  I couldn’t get over my fear of commitment.  I wanted to make a rational decision away from physical/emotional dependence on him.  I wanted to pray.  I wanted God to tell me a clear answer–and yet I didn’t want Him to say NO.  I was afraid and confused.  All the while I was asking God, “Is he the one for me? Will YOU be happy with me if I choose Him? Will I be happy??” Oh the endless questions and doubts.  Finally–I began to recognize that God was giving ME the choice.  What?!  Could it be possible??  For anyone reading this who doesn’t have faith–that may seem a foreign concept. You see, I had always been taught and even dreamed that there was one perfect person for me as designed by God Himself…and if I got it wrong, then I was screwed.

Still, I began to allow myself to make decisions with Jeff.  Naturally, things just panned out–even despite myself!  I listened to his first stories in a new place and a new school and tried to imagine myself there. Finally, I made the decision NOT to renew the teaching contract with my university in China and I began to tell everyone–neighbors, colleagues, students of my forthcoming marriage.  I wore a “fake” diamond ring that Jeff had bought me during that last semester in China, if even to help myself accept my own decision.  Students began to bring me precious wedding gifts, and the school released me without too much of a fight.

What a strange feeling it was–to once again be in a taxi–instead this time heading to the airport in Beijing for a return trip to Los Angeles–a city I NEVER expected to call home!  I remember telling the taxi driver in Mandarin that I was going home to get married.  I cried in the back seat as I passed the “Bird’s Nest” in construction for the Olympics, which I would not get to see.  A plethora of mixed emotions overwhelmed me:  Was I making the right choice?  I had just gotten used to China!  Would I ever come back??  Would I be happy on the other side?  What would I feel after all this time seeing Jeff?

Like so many of the adventures of my life–I never expected to be in any of them.  I walked around in a fog the first few weeks–in reverse culture shock. I went to the mall nearby and heard Mandarin all around me–had I actually LEFT China or not?!  I confess it was stressful as Jeff and I acclimated to being together again.  I had no place to live, no friends here, no job, no church, no money, and no real certainty if I had done the right thing.  It was truly a trying time of my life!  And all too quickly–our wedding panned out before our eyes–almost as if in a dream.

One month stateside, I got a job as an adjunct professor at a college–ironically working with Chinese students:)  Then three months after leaving China, Jeff and I got married!  We got married at my parent’s house in Tennessee in my mother’s garden with a spattering of guests–some whom I hadn’t seen since I was a child.  Most of our friends whom had known us and watched our story unfold were not able to be there.  I felt sad about that. Still, it was a gorgeous fall day & I didn’t want it to end.  It was sunny, pristine and bright–just like I had asked God for.  I felt like a princess, and I cried during our vows.  It all happened so fast!

And then, one week after our wedding, Jeff started his PhD program.  Two months later, he was promoted to a full-time managerial position on campus.  There were times I felt soooo lonely and uncertain of my choice.  He was working and studying all the time.  He was the only person I had to depend on in Pasadena.  I missed my students and times in China. I missed our “dating days.” On top of that, I was taking some medication that really messed with my emotions and body. The reality of adulthood responsibility also hit me hard.

All the while, in my temporal state of depression, (and despite his own stress), Jeff was patiently loving and constantly supporting me.  He tried so hard to ensure my happiness (and still does)!  We began to travel, take countless road trips and weekends away.  I found myself surrounded by others, my international students–who were also newlyweds & living far away from friends and loved ones.  I began to accept my new status in life as a married woman–loving on and befriending others like me. I found myself in two teaching jobs that I loved–surrounded by not only ONE, but MANY other cultures.  And I also began to truly fall in love with Pasadena and my physical surroundings.

So, what about the years in between then and now?  Sometimes it all seems like a blur!  Jeff went on to encounter the most challenging and stressful times of his life, and naturally his problems became mine.  The weight of overtime work with a rigorous PhD program & extra life stressors was sometimes too much for us to handle, along with the expense of living in such a costly place.

But, here we are…five years later!  And we survived!!  At times, I didn’t think it was possible.  We often joke, “If we can make it through this, we can make it through anything!”  Many would have given up by now.  Heck, it only took Kim what’s her name 1 day to call it quits!  So, somehow–this 5th anniversary seems extra special.  Jeff is now “Dr. Jeff!”  And the future is waiting for us, just around the corner.

Sometimes, I wonder–what would have happened if I didn’t get on that plane to LA?  What would I be doing?  Would I still be in China?  But, then I think–I wouldn’t have discovered a new joy living in such a beautiful and diverse place, full of so much that suits me.  I wouldn’t have become an adjunct professor (which I ALSO couldn’t have done, had I not taken that year-long job in China!) at a school that I loved.  And, I wouldn’t have known the joy and growth that can come from taking a risk.  I wouldn’t have known a different (more mature) side of myself through marriage had I not gotten on that plane.  And I wouldn’t be married to a man I consider my best friend and best partner on this adventure called life. With his never-ending wisdom, patience, and selflessness, he has taught me so much about love!  He has taught this bird that it’s still possible to be “at home” with someone, while on a great journey.

Perhaps greater still, I have learned the power of CHOICE–that God indeed gives us choices and loves us no matter what–that He makes all things beautiful in His time–that He wants us to be happy–that He hears even the smallest cries of our hearts.  I recognize that when Jeff makes me laugh with his goofy belly-dancing… or enjoys Chinese baked goods even more than me!

Here’s to the next chapter in “The Adventures of Dr. Chuckle and Mrs. Chai!” Happy 5th, my dear!

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Mama Mauah’s Magical Summer Gardens

Mama:  a universal name for mother, a nickname for love.  Mauah: A Swahili word for flowers.  Mix them together and you have the apt name given to my Mother during her time spent in Kenya:  “Mama Mauah” (Mother of the Flowers).  I don’t think I realized how significant that name was until recent years.  Why is it that my Mom would be given such a nickname in a country not her own, by the people she was worked with?  Surely they too, saw something special in her.

As a child, I didn’t realize the gift I was surrounded by.  I grew up in the log house that my Father built in East Tennessee, surrounded by the acres that I used to play in as an imaginative child–a babbling creek with water gliders and minnows, a natural spring/cave, shaded woods with swinging vines, and secret hidden trails carved out by my brothers and me. We had free roaming pleasure around the rural neighborhood and planned day-treks around the hills and pastoral green fields where we lived.

I used to leave letters to my elusive, yet compassionate tooth-fairy named “Celeste”  in the shag-bark hickory tree in the woods behind our house. (Thanks to my creative Father who penned the letters from Celeste in miniscule writing & left them under my pillow after every lost tooth).  I would imagine her flitting around the flowers in the front garden or dwelling in the old trees in the woods.  Is it any wonder I love nature? (and perhaps still…fairies to a certain degree?)

Every spring, I remember the daffodils emerging in the front of the yard, bringing a sweet fragrance with their swaying trumpet heads.  I don’t know how Mom ever had time for gardening with three rambunctious  kids…but it wasn’t until I left home and into my adult years, that I began to notice the miraculous transformation that happens every spring/summer/fall on that special shaded glen where my parents still live.

I’m amazed at the beauty that Mama Mauah creates.  I’m inspired by the numerous water and wood features that my Father crafts by hand.  And as an adult myself, I revel in the precious gem that I now get to see once or twice a year.  This summer in Tennessee somehow even surmounted my expectations.  The magic in Mama Mauah’s garden was sublime!  If you’re ready, I’ll take you on a “secret tour” of my parent’s gardens.  And shockingly NO–it has never been in Better Homes & Gardens!

Here is a view of the front gardens, with the wooden shed that used to be our club house as kids.

My Mother’s obsession: bird houses!  You just can’t have too many of them.

Filtered sunlight in the woods, framing the front porch my Dad built:

A view of the front deck my Dad built.

Some side gardens on the hillside:

Patio flowers:

Front porch views

A  “hydrangea” view of the house:

A moss-covered sequoia with Dad-made bridge in the background:

One of Dad’s water features: waterfalls cascading over the spring!

Our bully (yet loveable) bulldog, “Miss P” relaxing in her hosta garden playground!

Front house garden area:

An arbor my Dad built:

For Mom, anything can be a flower pot!

My Dad’s most recent project:  a 50 foot waterfall with boulder rock!

Above is a shot of the new fire pit, facing out to the front gardens.

Above are roses, that my Mom somehow manages to keep alive in Tennessee!

Well, I hope you have felt like you too have explored our well-kept secret in east Tennessee.  Surely you can see how rich the landscape is, how lush and green…how blessed I was to grow up here.  Mama Mauah certainly has a gift!  I think the students and people she loved in Kenya were also touched by the beauty she creates everywhere she goes.  And if you get the chance to come to her garden, you too will be refreshed.

Nooks and Crannies of Cambria

We finally got to explore Cambria!  My husband and I were supposed to go this past year to celebrate our wedding anniversary, and then I had a random outbreak of the hives at thirty-five years old…and we never got to go.

The central California coast is one of my favorite scenic places of beauty in the world!  There are many quaint towns along the coast:  San Luis Obispo, Pismo Beach, Big Sur, Carmel by the Sea, Monterey…the list goes on and on.  I have been to the area numerous times in my 10 years spent on the west coast, but never to a small little town called Cambria off Highway One.

Recently, we took a trip up the coast from LA past Santa Barbara, stopping for lunch in the Danish settlement of Solvang (see a previous post), and up the 101 to San Simeon to visit the Hearst Castle.  On our way back home, we stopped for lunch in Cambria and found ourselves lost in discovery one cloudy, breezy Sunday afternoon.

We found what I would like to call “My Dream Store!” I was drawn to signs of a kind of nursery behind a white picket fence.  As we got closer, I realized it was a gift boutique with jewelry, hand-made potpourris, garden decor, and all kinds of trinkets and surprises.  The store was full of all kinds of hidden rooms, and seemed a bit make-shift in a rustic log house with creaky wooden floor boards, adding to the charm in my opinion.  Even my husband sniffed his way through various potpourris, plotting how we could somehow make a business with our own potpourri-making skills (which we don’t have!)

I found rooms full of fairies, (ask my Dad who masqueraded as my childhood toothfairy named “Celeste” penning letters to me in microscopic handwriting every time I lost a tooth!) which brought me right back to childhood looking for fairies in the woods behind my parents house in Tennessee.  And then…I found it….the entrance to the most magical hidden urban garden, created by the owner of the store.

Instantly, I felt like a kid again, in magical outdoor discovery…finding hidden nooks and crannies.

I have always been a fan of wind-chimes and secretly want my own wind-chime collection just like this one–even though my husband is afraid of them. (They remind him of the movie “Twister” just before the tornado hits…!) Walking past this was like being in an enchanted musical forest.

For the first time, I was actually tempted to buy a bird house and truly understood my mother’s obsession with them!  I may not ever out-purchase her into the hundreds like her birdhouse collection–nevertheless, I could finally understand their charm.

I really liked this creative idea for a bird bath in Alice’s Tea Garden!

See what I mean?  This secret garden was full of fairies…it brought me right back to my formative imaginative years.

Even bathtubs can be a creative garden space!

It was very hard for me not to want to buy out the whole store!

I was smitten with the hand-wrapped packaging after buying a garden sign for my “back porch garden!”  The real plant is now resting in a vase in my kitchen–I hope it will root soon so I can pass on the love.

After leaving our secret garden exploration, we took our adventure back out to the street, and on down to other unique stores…so many of them had whimsical storefronts!

When a town spends so much time to make their environment attractive, that says something to me about that town!

In search of some old California fruit boxes, we found an antique store to explore!

Well, I’ve taken you through a secret garden, down the storefronts of Cambria, and into a character-rich antique store. I hope you could feel the magic of discovery I felt on that spontaneous Sunday afternoon in this quaint coastal town!  I love exploring new towns in California, and finding hidden beauty everywhere around me. Sometimes, the best surprises in life are waiting for us in the nooks and crannies.

ps…Thank you for not copying or re-blogging this post!

The Succulent People

I love creativity.  I love flowers.  I love gardens.  And when you add creativity to flowers or plants, I am smitten!  Recently, on a trip to San Diego with my husband to celebrate his finished dissertation, we decided to visit new places in the area we love so much.  One of them was the San Diego Botanical Gardens in Encinitas, CA.  It was an astounding place with ocean vistas and breezes.  It had the best children’s garden I have ever seen: imaginative and playful with a gigantic jungle tree house.  There were fields of exotic fruit trees, a towering bamboo forest with hollow swaying stalks which sounded like a wind chime symphony.

But perhaps what captured my fancy the most was the exhibit which I have nicknamed “The Succulent People.”  Clearly a skilled horticultural artist spent a lot of time designing and cultivating this exhibit of human-like characters.  Various succulent plants were oozing out of the wired peat-moss figures, creating magical images.   I was mesmerized while analyzing the intricate designs of the figures.  Here are some of the Succulent People for your viewing!

And now how about some other favorites from the gardens?

I hope you’ve seen the art in these human inspired plant displays.  And if you get a chance, you should visit the Botanical Gardens…they are full of color, interest, and various garden terrains from around the world. 

Babies, Bells, and Baklava

Sometimes I surprise myself!  Unless I’m in the classroom entertaining students or telling wild stories, I’m often shy around strangers.  But, on this particular late summer evening, I would step outside my own box once again!

Over the past few years of teaching at a language institute in Pasadena, California–I have had my first real encounter with Saudi Arabians.  In the beginning, I wasn’t always sure of what to make of the ladies donned in various head scarves and sometimes long black dresses covering them from head to toe. But, I noticed they were good-natured, humorous, eager to learn, and compliant in class! (qualities any teacher appreciates)

Last year, one particular Saudi lady I will call “Amy” came to my classroom.  I couldn’t tell how old she was, but she seemed to like me.  And all the other students also seemed to warm up to her.  A few months later, Amy revealed that she was pregnant and that this was her 6th child!  We had no idea, because we couldn’t tell under that long black dress covering her body.  She also said she was 42 year old!

Quickly, some of the other teachers and I agreed that we should offer to host a baby shower for her and show her how gracious Americans can be when we want to be.  She quickly agreed, but said that SHE would like to host the party.  Well….”OK”…we replied despondently.  “If you’d like to…”

Within weeks, colorful creative invitations were delivered to each of us…and one thing in particular stood out–the times for the party!  We balked when we saw the times…4pm –12am.  WHAT?!  Surely this was a typo!  I mean, come on now–everybody knows that showers are something where you show up, do your two hour duty, bring some gifts, play some games, and be done with it!  But THIS was to be no regular baby shower.

The day of the shower arrived.  We all showed up on time (all the Americans..and some other brave international students).  Amy answered the door–looking quite different than we had ever seen her before.  She was (as we say in the South) “all dolled up” with bright colored make-up, pink lipstick, long dark hair curled and loose around her shoulders, wearing a very stylish outfit, with clanging bangles on her wrists–looking cuter than any pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.  Our eyes popped out in the sheer shock of it all!

Quickly, Amy escorted us all to sit on the couch.  My eyes panned the room–exquisitely decorated, very tasteful, spotless.  She quickly whisked over some Saudi Arabian coffee served up on a silver tray, and passed another silver tray around the circle covered with wrapped chocolates, figs, nuts, baklava, and various other Saudi delights.  I swooped up a few of them and went to town.  I noticed only her 16 year old daughter, and one other petite lady dressed in a conservative dress suit were assisting Amy with the hosting.  Both of them were in high heels, hair done just right, perfect makeup on, and very tailored colorful clothing.  I thought to myself, “Is this it?  Where is everybody else??  And where are the head coverings??”

Slowly, ladies began to trickle in.  I noticed an odd trend forming:  they would gingerly knock on the door, peek their covered head around the frame, quickly kiss-kiss each other on each cheek, and then bolt for the kitchen with the stealth of a gazelle, shoes clicking on the marble floor and giggling as they went.  ALL of them were covered from head to toe…and ALL of them emerged a a different woman entirely!  One by one, they would triumphantly strut from the kitchen–as if Wonder Woman herself had been in the changing room spinning them round and round until a new creature emerged.  Every lady would shout in unison, “Ahhhhh!!!  Ooohhhlalalalala!!”  laughing and clapping, and smiling approvingly to one another.

And each time, as the room grew more crowded and swelled with more noisy girlish chatter–the metamorphosis would continue long into the night.  As the doorbell rang each time, I curiously awaited the grand entrance of yet another shocking figure–donned in high heels, perfect hair and make-up, and fashionable new outfit.  And as the night continued, the outfits seemed to get more and more sexy–I started to wonder if I’d come to a baby shower, or some other kind of party altogether!

As the clock ticked on, still they came–sometimes in groups–but always sprinting to some secret dressing chamber in some dark corner of the kitchen.  It seemed the party was swelling to more than 50 people–that perhaps all of the female Saudi population of Los Angeles had been invited.  Sometimes the Americans would steal glances at each other, flare our eyes in a brief moment of shock and concern, then return to chatting with some new Saudi woman sitting beside us.  We were all starting to feel a bit under-dressed!

And then the doorbell rang out louder than before…Amy whisked to the door, sheepishly looked around as she slightly creaked it open, and spoke assertively in Arabic as a man’s voice spoke in the background.  She called for help, as one of the ladies, not yet morphed into a beautiful butterfly–started to pass platters of food one by one into the living room.  Ladies passed dishes in a line, and ran them over to the serving tables in the kitchen.  I wondered just what was hiding under those steaming covered platters of catered food.

Soon, we were all called to eat–the Americans jumped up in  typical eager form, smiling and nodding in the assurance that what we were about to partake of would be worth the wait.  I entered the kitchen to see 3 tables of food set out and ready for consumption.  It looked like a feast indeed, steam rising in the air, perfect for all of us Saudi princesses of the night (wannabe’s and authentic). There were fresh skewers of hot lamb/beef/chicken kabobs, plates of creamy hummus and pita, many dips and creamy sauces, platters of basmati rice, a few dishes that Amy proudly announced that she had made herself, and even dishes of Indian curries.  I piled my plate as high as I could without seeming too desperate.  Together, we sat around in one giant circle in the living room, eating slowly, chatting–doing what ladies do best!

And then, in the background I heard some of the younger girls tinkering with their laptop, searching for music.  Every other second, I would hear “Assini.com” in a male mouse-like voice.  Belly-dancing drums would pound from the computer screen, and very Arabic sounding music with female singing voices called to us, as Amy’s daughter searched her computer’s rolodex of musical numbers.  Finally, one song echoed out–and all the ladies nodded and shouted in approval.  And then…it happened.  Two by two, the ladies got up and began to dance around the circle–enticing each other to join.  I just remember lots of hip-action and twisting hands in the air.  One lady would dance and then challenge the other one in a kind of dance-off, as all the others looked on, whistling in a syncopated rhythm to the music.  Every once in a while, I would hear someone shout out in a shrill voice, “ay-yay-yay-ayay yay!!!”  or another would loudly roll her tongue in approval.  It just seemed to encourage them to dance that much more vigorously.

The Americans started to look nervously at each other–it would only be so long until we knew our turn would come!  And then, the ultimate betrayal ensued.  One of my co-workers shouted out, “Hey, Carey’s a good dancer!!”  They all snickered to each other and I shot daggers at them with my eyes….the Saudis couldn’t resist…they began to shout in unison, “CAREY!  CAREY!!”  stomping their lady-like heels on the floor.  I shouted, “No!  Only if you guys join me!!”  haha…suckas!…I snickered to myself.

With the force of a tidal wave, one lady pulled me up onto the “dance floor” and taunted me to shake my hips.  I had no choice, here I was on the stage–if you will–so I began to just move–flashing through all my salsa dance classes in my mind–and the ladies all went crazy–whistling, shouting, clapping, calling out with that shrill tongue-roll.

So, I let them have it.  I glanced around the room, the Saudis were looking at me in delight, yet disbelief–if that combination is possible.  Each one with a wide grin, winking at the others.  My co-workers seemed to look at each other with pride, “Yeah, we know her…see, not all Americans are dancing imbeciles!”

I pulled my friends up.  A kind of Saudi dance class emerged.  One lady took each of us under her wing–trying to help us find the rhythm.  And we all danced.  It was a weird phenomenon…all women together.  I felt a strange kind of liberation, not having to worry if some perverted man was trying to check me out (as in my younger days).  I had always felt a strange inhibition on the dance floor–but not tonight!  Each Saudi lady wanted to take her turn challenging me to another dance move–and I tried my best to represent the Americans on the dance floor.  And still–the pounding beats and Saudi voices sang in the air, as all continued clapping and shouting.  Somebody even tied a sash around my waist “to belly-dance!”  “Now hold on here a minute”, I thought to myself, “I’m not the entertainment!”  But, the ladies all seemed to find pure humor in it.

And so the night continued…dancing, eating, chatting…rounds and rounds of baklava and Saudi tea.  I spoke with many of the women, hearing their stories, how many children they had (almost all of them had more than 5!), what they had studied.  Most of them had perfect English…and said to me how they had studied English in university in Saudi Arabia.  I started to wonder if or when we were going to open any baby gifts for the “shower.”

Finally, we did get around to it–and Amy got a lot of loot!  She opened the gifts one by one, and the ladies all clapped and passed the snacks around the circle again and again.  I thought to myself, “Now this is the kind of baby shower I can get behind!”  None of those “guess the baby’s name or birth weight” games…huh-uh.  These Saudi ladies brought a whole new meaning to the concept.

And on that night of babies, bells, food, and whistles–I smiled contentedly to myself, “This will undoubtedly go down on my TOP FIVE list of parties!”  It was like I was kidnapped in some kind of time-travel machine to a secret woman’s chamber in the middle of Saudi Arabia…only it was a wild female-only party near the shopping mall in Arcadia, CA.  And instead of being a fly on the wall, I was thrust into the middle of it!  Once more, I was THROWN outside of my box.  And lived to tell about it!  The cultural chameleon was transformed once again.  What’s the moral of the story?  I’m not sure–but you better always have your belly dancing outfit on hand–you never know when you might need it!  And women, no matter from which corner of the globe, know how to talk, sip tea, and enjoy each other’s company.

Fall Fabuliciousness

Yes, I just coined my own new English word!  Because you see, I have been utterly swept away by fall this year.  I don’t know why my senses were somehow lit on fire.  I know it’s already almost time for Christmas season, and I do already have my tree up and lit for the holidays.  But, I’m finding it just a little bit hard to let myself get fully engaged with the winter season.  Maybe it’s because southern California is always on its own time.  I remember when I first moved here being shocked by the bright yellow fall leaves on the tree behind my apartment after the Rose Parade on January 1st.

So this year is no different!  It’s November 26th, and the leaves are just now in full form.  It’s heavenly.  This autumn, I have allowed myself to just take in the sights, smells, and colors of fall…creamy pumpkin ice-cream from Trader Joe’s, bright orange pumpkins collected from a real pumpkin patch sitting on my front porch, and deep red leaves dried and scattered across my dining room table.  I have taken in the scent of autumn air on sunny afternoon walks, which is somehow made richer by the warm, dry heat of Pasadena.

I went to a fall festival in Temecula, complete with a tractor pull, pumpkin catapult, and mind-boggling corn maze.  I even drove around my neighborhood just to take in all the fall decorations that people donned their houses with.  I suppose in an effort to say goodbye to summer and embrace the new season, I fell into it full-fledged.  And today, though Christmas lights twinkle at the malls and people have started to drape lights across their front porches, I took one more glorious fall walk around the neighborhoods.  It was a bright Saturday afternoon with perfect 70 degree weather, & I took my camera along–good thing!

Like a kid, I walked through the leaves just because.

(those are just really baggy pants...)

I took lots of pictures of trees, which formed yellow blankets on the ground.

Something that really stands out to me is the contrast of fall colors with the waving palm trees–not something you see everyday!

But even the bare simplicity of a hidden alleyway captured my interest!

So, here’s my one last farewell to the sumptuousness of fall.  The pure fabuliciousness of it all.  Even though it’s just over two weeks until I embark a plane to a bare-treed winter wonderland in my hometown for Christmas, I can still live in the ever-present bliss that winter will not come for some of us!  Maybe the seasons are confused here, but that’s alright with me.  Here’s to ignorant bliss!

From Pasadena with love...