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Dead Sea Diaries 

To New Beginnings!

This will be my last post for 2013.  

Thank you all so very much for taking time to read my blog.  Every single click  is appreciated from the bottom of my heart.  Yes Mom, even yours! haha  

All things being equal, Dead Sea Diaries will return in the new year with, hopefully, a new look and a fresh perspective.  

In the mean time, I leave you with these words from T.S. Eliot:

      For last year's words belong to last year's language,

     And next year's words await another voice,

     And to make an end is to make a beginning

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

December’s Wintery Breath

It feels just too cold to write anything meaningful this week, but I will try.  My fingertips hurt when I type, my collarbone aches from a nasty break a number of years ago, my kneecaps groan as I flex my legs to try and stay warm. 

According to the weather report, it is a cool 7°C outside, but if you read the fine print, well… it feels like 3°C, with snow predicted for the next three days.  Fun… Not.

Now I know there are colder places out there. It only takes a quick Google search for the coldest place on earth to make me feel truly grateful that TVoR did not apply for a job in Vostok, Antarctica; the Russian research station that holds the dubious honour of being labeled the coldest place on earth. 

Jobs anywhere in Russia, Greenland or Canada would also be frowned upon at this stage, for that matter!  When we got married, I said I’d follow him anywhere.  I have since written in some serious caveats into our contract!

Truth be told, it really does not matter too much how warm or cold it is elsewhere.  Point is, I am not there so I can only comment on what I am experiencing now or have experienced in the past. 

So, at the moment, in Amman, Jordan, I am absolutely freezing.  It is bitterly cold, wet, grey and nasty outside.  The wind is howling through the cracks in the windows. (For some strange reason, the windows do not shut properly, hence the eerie howling that makes it seem that much colder)  My supplies of hot chocolate are running dangerously low, I have finished all the lovely lentil and bacon soup I had prepared earlier and the only ready-to-eat food I have to nibble on right now are some red apples and two sad looking pomegranates – not exactly my idea of deliciously warm comfort food!

But I have a plan:  we have invited Andrew and Emily over for a curry evening tomorrow, so I will have an excuse to cook comfort food to my heart’s content!  Looking forward to a belly-warming lamb Rogan Josh curry with sambals and coconut rice, with a milder (if I can control my urges to add too many spices) chicken Balti for Emily.

I have spent two days looking for poppadoms, to no avail, so we will have to substitute poppadoms and naan with regular old toasted olive bread, but I am sure it won’t make too much of a difference to the meal. 

I consider myself to be quite a decent cook.  Not chef-standard, understand, but a pretty reasonable cook in my own right.  The one dish I cannot make, however, is rice.  Lucky for me, TVoR hates rice, so I mostly get away with this gaping hole in my cooking repertoire.  But what is a good curry without fluffy white rice or fragrant coconut basmati rice, so, attempts will have to be made later today to try and perfect the rice-situation.

Let’s hope the rice fairies take pity on my frozen fingers, aching bones and creaking kneecaps and help produce a perfect rice dish to accompany tomorrow’s curries!

And now you must excuse me, I have to go find another layer to add to the three layers of clothes I am already wearing…

“Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours.”

― Robert Byrne

Mom Would Be So Proud!

No, I have not abandoned my blog.  I have, however, been suffering from a serious case of the lazies the last couple of weeks.  A combination of idleness, a touch of melancholy that always accompanies my birthday and a dab of writer’s block thrown in the mix and the result:  no blog for the last two weeks.  But, as with most things, this too passed and I feel ready to get back on track again. 

When I wrote my previous blog, I was about to attend my first Pilates class.  I have now been for three classes; so I thought I’d give you some feedback.  Brace yourselves…

Pilates, for those unfamiliar with it, is an exercise regime coupled with proper breathing methods developed in Germany in the early twentieth century by (the devil?) Joseph Pilates.  Its main aim is to improve flexibility and muscle strength, with emphasis on spinal and pelvic alignment.  It also (allegedly) teaches efficient breathing methods and helps to develop a strong core, while improving balance and co-ordination. 

Well…

I have mentioned our trainer, Rima, in previous blogs about aqua aerobics.  This tiny, Canadian-Jordanian woman with her serious no-nonsense attitude, sports an eight pack instead of a sixer and has arms and legs that look so strong and toned, nuts probably crack themselves when they see her coming.

During my first training session she started the class off very gently with warm-up exercises, then gradually progressed to slightly more difficult levels, but I am happy to say that I managed to keep up (for the most part) to the rest of the much more advanced class. 

My main aims for the first class, other than not to die, was to not fall over and not, I repeat, not to fart **blush**.  Absolutely ecstatic to report that I did neither!  So far so good…

I was totally amazed at what my unfit body could do, and upset with what it simply would not do.  The night before the class I thought I’d prepare and tried to do push-ups.  If TVoR did not help me up, I would probably still be lying flat on the carpet, laughing my head off.  I absolutely could not get my body up from the carpet!  However, during the class and after a series of maneuvers designed to make grown men weep, I managed to successfully move into Downward Dog and then into a full Plank position, which I managed to hold for a full fifteen seconds.  Success! 

Downward Dog

Full Plank

After the first hour-long “mild” introduction session I hobbled home, happy to be alive, delighted that I did not embarrass myself too much.  By nightfall, every single muscle in my body hurt.  I poked at my poor, pain-ridden body and everywhere I touched ached, so much so that I started to suspect that I might have broken my forefinger.  Nope, no broken finger, just tender, aching, complaining, weary muscles that have not been used in… forever, it seems.  Even my hair hurt.

Judging by my super sore muscles, I decided that there had to be something to this Pilates-thing, so I promptly signed up for two classes a week.  Now, three sessions in, I am starting to doubt the wisdom of my decision.

The second class arrived and lo-and-behold, no more Mrs. Nice Guy Rima!  Playtime (!) was over for me and she proceeded putting our little group of five grunting women through our paces.  It is fascinating how the body can move into the most impossible positions without falling over.  As stated before, I could not do push-ups “from scratch” but, brimming with confidence after the success of my first class and following the different movements and breathing techniques, next thing I was aware of, I again found myself in a full Plank, balancing my body weight on the tips of my toes and my fists!  How did this happen? 

The second class also introduced some items probably designed way back during the Spanish Inquisition, like the innocent-looking resistance dual grip fitness ring.  While lying on you back, you place the ring between your ankles; raise your legs to the skies and then the real problems start.  From this position, with your feet and shoulders never touching the ground, you do sit-ups, stomach crunches and leg exercises until your ears start to zing and you start seeing your long-dead Grandma waving at you from the Other Side.  The other ladies seemed fine and reported no Grammy sightings after the class, so maybe it was just me? 

Note to self:  learn how to breathe correctly!  I inhale when she says exhale, I exhale when she says hold your breath, I completely forget to breathe at times, concentrating completely on staying alive and breathing becomes an optional extra.  I have been sitting here all morning, breathing.  So, by the next class on Sunday, I should be an expert.  I think tonight I’ll ask TVoR to quiz me by shouting breathing orders haha!

Arrived at yesterday’s class, full of the joys of life, only to discover that Satan, eh, sorry… Rima, have decided to introduce yet another torture device to the routine:  The Giant Rubber Band.  Rubber band. Fun, right?  Not so much.  While twisted into various positions resembling a flopped pretzel, you use the rubber band to stretch and balance.  My aim for yesterday’s class:  Don’t take an eye out with that darn rubber band! 

Much to my (secret) delight, while balancing on left legs and right arms, left arms stretched forward, right legs stretching the rubber bands behind us in the air, one of the “veterans” lost control of her rubber band and it shot clear across the room with a loud TWAINGGGG!  The poor woman was so shocked that she promptly fell over, which of course almost proved too much for my wicked sense of humour.  My Mom will be so proud:  I managed to not laugh out loud, but it did have me giggling for quite some time after the class.  Thank Goodness it happened to her and not me, although I suspect it is only a matter of time, given the laws of Karma and all…

I am rather scared of attending this coming Sunday’s class.  There are still many innocent looking devices and some not-so-innocent ones lurking in the corners of the studio.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid…

It looks innocent enough, doesn't it?

I can only imagine that these two machines also would involve whips and chains.
So far, we haven't used these "stretchers" yet, but I know it is only a matter of time.  

Put me on one of these machines and I'll confess to anything and everything within a matter of seconds!

Time Flies

Can you believe it’s almost the middle of November and the year is rapidly drawing to an end?  Time, as they say, indeed flies. 

We never quite made it to the new Jordan Museum two weekends ago.  The museum is only open three days a week and only between 10 am and 2 pm.  We were going to visit after André had finished work last Saturday, but a flooded warehouse and key staff members threatening to resign kept TVoR at work too late, so no museum for us.  Maybe in December?

Why not go sooner, you may ask? Well…  There is a skydiving boogie on at the Dead Sea at the moment, hosted by the Royal Aero Sports Club of Jordan and a team of jumpers from Czechoslovakia, which of course has TVoR beside himself with excitement.  Did someone say “skydive”? 

The boogie, mostly aimed at people who want to do tandem jumps over the Dead Sea, but also open for fun jumpers with over 500 jumps, is on for the entire month of November, until 5 December.  Normal weekend activities will resume after that.

Last week rang in the year 1435 of the Hijri (Islamic) calendar and a long weekend was proclaimed in Jordan.  Of course, this meant one extra day of skydiving. 

We got up early on Thursday morning, took a leisurely drive to the Dead Sea, where TVoR did three quick skydives.  Despite it already being quite chilly in Amman, the weather at the Dead Sea is still pleasant, no sweaters required yet. 

Friday morning and it was a case of rinse and repeat.  Got up early (luckily not the usual 3am get-up we would do for a day of skydiving in South Africa!), drove to the Dead Sea with just enough soft rain falling to dirty the car.  Got to the drop zone and it was very overcast, with determined little beams of sunlight fighting to get through the clouds here and there.  Three jumps in quick succession and off we went again. 

Must say, this is the kind of skydiving morning I can deal with: very pleasant atmosphere at the DZ, friendly staff, excited tandem passengers and quick turn-around times for the jumps.  Hubby happy, wife happy.  All’s good.

I have been on many DZ’s over the past fourteen years and seen many tandem passengers before and after their jumps.  One thing the majority of them always had in common was the terrified look on their faces before the jump, the not-knowing-what-to-expect, the anticipation, nervous energy, fear.  

Curiously, I don’t see any of that nervousness or fear in the Jordanian tandem passengers.  They all seem extremely excited and you can tell that they cannot wait for their turn to skydive, taking and posting selfies and group pictures, giggling (even the men), eager.  I wonder why the big difference in attitudes?  Hmmm… will have to investigate that phenomenon. 

What else happened last week?  Oh, met some friends for a tea morning that turned into a late lunch.  So much to discuss, so little time.  Also, Wednesday saw the official re-instating of Date Night.  No need for married couples to stop dating, as long as they date each other, right?  We went to one of our all-time favourite restaurants, Romero’s, where we had excellent food as always.  We fell in love with the place during our first visit to Jordan back in November 2005 and I am glad to report that it still remains a firm favourite.

I was signed up to attend a Pilates class last Thursday, as mentioned in a previous blog.  Because of the long weekend, that class was moved to Sunday but, sadly, the instructor’s children got sick and the class was again moved to this coming Sunday.  Wonder if this Pilates thing is maybe not meant to be?  I was so excited to try it, as I have to find a different form of exercise now that aqua aerobics is no longer an option.  The excitement, however, is dwindling fast.

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am not a fan of any kind of exercise other than water based ones like swimming or aqua aerobics (my Swiss stepmother-in-law calls it aqua aerobatics!).  I was hoping that the Pilates bug might bite me so I can at least get some form of exercise in other than doing the laundry twice a week. 

All these postponements, however, are not conducive to getting a couch potato like me moving, so I do hope that Sunday’s class will happen and I also really, really hope that I will like it.  I have my forty-third birthday coming up and gravity, well, it sucks, doesn’t it?

Before I go… I have been staring at my television screen in disbelief this morning. I found myself in tears as footage of the devastation left in the wake of Typhoon Haiyan that hit part of the Philippines flickered across the screen.  With an estimated 10 000 people dead in one province alone and millions misplaced,  I could not help but be overwhelmed by a great sadness for those affected. 

I cannot even begin to imagine the hell these people are in at the moment, fighting to find survivors and trying to find shelter, medical assistance, water and food.  

So, if you will, please take a minute after you have read this to spare a thought, if not a prayer, for the people of the Philippines.  

There but for the Grace of God…

What Would Your Note Say?

I saw this posted on Facebook and it got me thinking...

My immediate thought was “two words? How the *BLEEP* will I manage with only two words?”  Also, if you could write such a note and by some miracle travel back in time to deliver it to a younger self, why on earth would you waste the opportunity by only writing two words on that note? No, no, no, I would need more than a couple of pages, fine lined, double sided, thank you very much!

Having said that, let’s see, what would I say with limited words…

I guess what I write would depend greatly on what age my younger self is at the time of receiving such phantom note.

If I were a youngster in primary school, let’s say ten years old, it would be easy.  My note would simply say: “Play more!”  I’d tie the note to a small rock, toss it to myself on the school playground and head straight back to the present. 

If, however, my miracle time machine took me to a teenage version of myself, things would get a bit trickier.  I would have a number of two-worded notes to deliver, and they would read something like this:

“Report bullies”

“Participate more”

“Sleep more”

“Exercise!”

“Study harder”

“Be more confident”

“Stand up for yourself”

“Pick a hairstyle!”

But this is where I would need more words, to say things like:

“Teachers are not always right”

“Learn to channel negative thoughts into positive ones”

“Give the future a bit more serious thought”

As we grow older and life gets more serious, the advice required gets more complicated.  This is only natural. 

A note to a twenty-one-year-old me would read:

“Date more”

“Sleep less”

“Party harder”

“Open savings account”

 “Exercise!”

“Have you picked that hairstyle yet?

Twenty-five and my notes now read:

“Nice hair!”

“Fantastic body!”

“Recognise the above and be more confident”

“Be more outgoing”

“Dance more!”

“Take more risks”

“Have more faith”

“Select boyfriends more carefully”

“Open savings account. Now!”

“Exercise, please!”

Thirty-two-me is at university and will get a whole stack of pink Post-it notes:

“Fantastic husband! Good job!”

“Make more friends”

“Choose a different line of study”

“Choose a different university”

“Don’t allow exes of any kind to walk over you”

“Embrace positive people and thoughts”

“Go. To. Gym!”

“Try to get a degree or try to get pregnant, but don’t try both at the same time”

I am thirty-seven and my notes now read:

“Be less afraid”

“Loose weight”

“Exercise!”

“Read more”

“Write, write, write!”

“You hate your job, your boss is a tool.  Quit!”

“Your stepson is a teenager, he hates everyone, not just you.  This too shall pass.”

See how much more complex these notes get?  Life, huh?

And now, with me about to turn forty-three?  What would my notes say now?

“Write more”

“Read more”

“Look after your health”

“Don’t worry so much about life’s what-if’s”

“Sometimes we don’t get what we want.  Accept that and learn to want what you got”

 “Not everyone will like you.  Embrace those who do. Forget those who don’t”

“Your husband is happy, you are happy.  Little else really matters”

“You actually turned out ok, kid. Don’t let negative people tell you otherwise”

“Embrace kindness and pay it forward”

“Let go”

“Love harder”

“Play more”

“Breathe.  Just breathe”

There you have it.  Life, along with my imaginary notes got very complicated there for a while, but thankfully, it seems the adage is correct, with age comes a certain level of wisdom and an ability to break down complex issues to their simpler forms.  Let go, love harder, play more.  And above all else, don’t forget to breathe…

What would your notes say?