Home

It's the eyes that tell me I'm home. In the US and Europe (more so in the US), strangers on the street rarely notice me. Coming back home to Saudi, however, as soon as I step off that plane from Dubai or London or Amsterdam or Dublin, I see the eyes. Women's eyes, those big dark eyes with long, thick, beautiful lashes (we call them "camel lashes") are enhanced with dark eyeliner and veiled. It's only when I come back that I realize the use of an abaiya (those black veils that Saudi women wear when they're out and about). Suddenly, I become aware of my bare arms, my pale pink skin, my bulk, my breasts, my uncovered sheared short hair, my boy's jeans I was once reprimanded for wearing in public, my foreigner's blue-gray irises. I become aware of all of this because the men gawk. It's not because I'm beautiful or irregularly proportioned or anything like that, but simply because I'm not behind a veil. I am a foreigner. I am different, unknown. Their curiosity or disgust or whatever it is these men think of me runs more along the lines of what they would think of a monkey at the zoo. The blackness of an abaiya provides a sort of privacy that I sometimes envy when I feel unbridled eyes on me. Because when the only thing you can do is look away and pretend not to notice, you wish you could just hide.

Anyway, that's sort of what I was thinking when I got off the plane in Dammam.

The trip back here wasn't so bad. I mean, it wasn't a life changing experience, but it wasn't hell either. Well...I take that back...my sister was grumpy so EVERYONE had to deal with it. Like, she thinks the world totally revolves around her. I mean, I love her to death, but with her, everything is a competition. No one can say anything about me, or I can't say anything without her saying "well...I'm better." Which I suppose is cool, I'm glad she's confident enough in herself to do that, but it just gets REALLY annoying. Anyway.

We had a connection through London Gatwick. I haven't been through that airport in SO long. I've realized though, that I like to adapt my accent wherever I am, be it New Orleans or Austin or London, so I was starting (i kid you not) to actually talk in a British accent...without realizing I was doing it. I had to stop myself before I got in too much trouble.

So I've decided that Emirates Air is the best airline in the business. Seriously. The inflight entertainment was rockin. 500 channels worth of stuff to watch, plus games and more leg and ass room than you can possibly imagine in an economy class seat. We flew from London to Dubai on a flight that wasn't completely full. Like, we actually had an entire ROW to ourselves. It was nice. Plus, I had two mini-bottles of red wine that knocked me out, so I slept for like, 4 hours. :D yay alcohol. Oh, by the way, I've decided that if I don't live in Greece or Italy or something of that nature, I'm TOTALLY living in Dubai. It's THAT awesome.

Our flight was delayed 45 minutes out of Dubai. But that's ok, I played blackjack with a guy from Pakistan in the seat next to me :D.

And now, I'm "home" in the other OTHER Magic Kingdom sitting in my very very different room. My parents disassembled the bunk beds...they haven't been separated since I was like, in 6th grade. So it's just very bizzare sleeping in my childhood room that looks so...changed, I guess. It's also weird sharing a room with my sister again. That girl...is LOUD when she wakes up. It takes her literally an hour and a half to get ready and she HAS to do it in here, WHILE I'M ASLEEP at 6:30 AM. But maybe that's just me being uber-sensitive. I don't know.

Well, I best be off. You know me, things to see, people to do....