Anyone who knows me, even if as a passing acquaintance, is likely aware how passionate I am about biking and how much I like it to be a part of my life/daily routine. I am especially passionate, as well as adamant, about relying solely on biking as my form of transportation. In the past, and now in my time in Yemen, I have eschewed automobiles as a means of getting to and from places and instead chose to use my bike as my primary method of travel. My reasons for biking are varied and include the following: it provides a guaranteed and built-in workout in my day to day life, helps me reduce my carbon footprint, allows me to get fresh air (though this is not always the case in the bustling hubbub of Sana’a!), and offers me greater freedom from which to explore my surroundings/milieu. Having expressed my reasons for biking, I would now like to share my perspective and experiences from biking Yemen thus far.
Before I go any further, however, I would like to explain that my desire to bike and steadfastness in this pursuit even involved me turning down a Mercedes-Benz that the Sana'a International School (SIS) administration had picked out for me. Yes, this car would have cost me, but the school would have provided me with an interest free loan which I could pay off throughout my time in Sana’a. Despite the temptation to be the ‘owner’ of a Mercedes-Benz and have a set of gas-powered wheels here in Yemen, I immediately pushed the idea aside and stuck with my original plan to be automobile-free in my new home. Contributing to this decision included not just my desire to save money, but also my determination to reduce my carbon footprint, increase my level of fitness, my eagerness to enjoy Yemen in a more intimate connection, and perhaps a hint of pride too. :-)
Wild. Unpredictable. Fast-paced. Insane. Frustrating. Absurd. Exhilarating. Surreal. Ludicrous. These are a few of the many adjectives that could be used to describe the experience of biking in Sana’a. Not included are those which would prevent this blog from remaining all-ages friendly. To say the least, biking in Sana’a is unlike any other experience life has ever afforded me and is one crazy adventure. It is an experience that engages nearly every one of the five senses, though sometimes I think there may be a sixth sense of that wards off the risk of sudden death, and in the process keeps me hyper-sensitive to my surroundings.
Each morning I begin my bike ride to SIS at roughly 7:10 am and see many of the same scenes at nearly exact locations each day. I wave to the guards outside the Prime Minister’s Office just as I leave the street I live on, pass by the early morning street sweepers and garbage collectors, and cruise onto the campus of Sana’a University approximately five minutes and twenty seconds into my journey. Since I have biked only during Ramadan thus far, I have had the luxury of having very peaceful rides during the early morning hours. Little traffic is encountered on the streets of Sana’a during this time and makes for a wonderful and pleasant way to begin my day. The return trip is a completely different story and I will soon get to its details, but please allow me to continue with the serene morning journey a bit longer.
As I near the opposite side of Sana’a University I almost always have to wait for the guard to be roused from his post, where he reads the newspaper, to have him open the gate to allow me to exit the campus. Occasionally along the stretch in the campus I ride through the middle of soccer games enjoyed by Yemeni youth on the otherwise empty streets and almost always have a few things yelled to me in Arabic (don’t worry, they are being friendly). Once I leave the campus I then make the decision about whether I should continue straight up Wadi-Dhayr road and take the quick route to SIS or, if time and energy permit, I should turn right on Sitteen (60 Meters Road) and put an extra couple miles and five to seven minutes of biking in before beginning my day of teaching. Lately it seems I have been choosing the latter, both because of my efforts to explore alternate routes and the simple fact that I feel like biking more. If I go straight on Wadi Dhayr, I continue on a gradual uphill that takes me past countless shops, all closed at this hour, and I share the road with occasional taxis who almost always honk in their approach behind me. One highlight along this stretch is the familiar smell of rotting animal flesh that greets me at about the 3.3 mile mark and almost always takes me back to the farm in South Dakota. I still am unsure about its specific source, but am positive of this all too familiar and, strangely enough, refreshing smell. HOME.
Also on this stretch are the occasional flock of goats being pushed across the road by weary looking herders that frequently includes reluctant looking children as well. As I near SIS I look to my right and see its familiar white perimeter fence outlining the mountain ridge that serves as the school’s southern border. I then take a left at the 4.4 mile mark (this is if I take the short route, it is closer to 6 or 7 if I take the detour along Sitteen) and glide along the last .3 miles, readying myself for another great day of teaching! Again there are the occasional goats on this stretch, though now they are not being moved anywhere but spending their morning rummaging through some of the (unfortunately plentiful) garbage that litters the side of many Yemeni roads. It is true that goats will eat about anything. And you people wonder why I abstain from consuming animal products!! (I jest, haha.) The guards open the levered gate and I give them my usual morning greeting. As I finish my early morning ride, I almost always invariably think of the contrast between the peaceful ride I just finished and the hectic adventure that will see me back to my apartment later in the day.
It is now roughly 4:45 pm, give or take a half hour either way, and I am just hopping on my bike to begin my precarious journey home. As I exit the gates for SIS the guards pass on their cheerful farewells and I cruise down the hill towards Wadi-Dhayr to greet the stimulating stream of cars that is Yemeni traffic. Unlike my morning ride, the afternoon/early evening involves a constant influx of stimuli to deal with and make decisions about. Before I have even reached Wadi-Dhayr I have likely already been greeted by half a dozen small children, some yelling greetings to me in English while others say things in Arabic I do not yet understand. As I then merge with the traffic on Wadi-Dhayr, I again make a decision about whether I want to take the quick route home or enjoy a lengthier route. This decision is generally dictated by whether or not I need to buy any produce, as my favorite produce stand is just down the road on Wadi-Dhayr. Regardless of the route I take, my ride positively involves a fair amount of adrenaline, cat-like reflexes I did not know I possessed, and an addictive rush I am fast becoming hooked to.
The once barren streets of the morning are now jam packed with traffic of all types: cars, taxis, motorcycles, pedestrians, debubs (basically Yemen’s version of a bus system, except that these are small vans that keep their sliding door open and almost always seem to pull over right in front of me!), bicycles, large trucks, and everything in between. Throughout the next twenty to thirty minutes, depending on the route I take, my vision is nearly constantly scanning the area in front (and behind) me; my ears key in on approaching traffic horns from my rear and to the upcoming side streets; my hands grip my handlebars and remain on my brakes like minutemen soldiers, ready to answer the call to arms at a moment’s notice; my mouth and nose settle into a rhythmic pattern of inhaling/exhaling that unfortunately is sometimes filled with more exhaust fumes than air; and my mind plays an inner dialogue in response to the chaos unfolding in front of me that may sound something like this: “What the hell are you doing pulling in front me like that for? This is insane, why aren’t there any practical traffic regulations. What a friggin great adventure, I love this.” As with the adjectives earlier, the dialogue is often more like Christian Bale’s rant on the set of Terminator Salvation than it is a Garrison Keillor memoir of Lake Wobegon. Use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
Irregardless of the route I take, my journey involves a number of sights and sounds that have become instantly etched into my memory bank. For example, just this evening I was passed by a taxi that was full in both the front and back as well as housing two grown men in the open trunk, one of whom lazily dragged his sandaled foot along the pavement. Another image are the fur-covered motorcycles (Yemenis think it makes them more manly) that pass three or four men deep, almost always offering me some type of greeting whether spoken or gestured. There are the constant shouts and stares I encounter as the novelty of a biking foreigner challenges the locals’ previous experiential memory bank. Little children stare from passing car windows, some hanging nearly halfway out, adults gesture from the open doors of debubs, broken English greetings are hurled my way “How are you? Welcome to Yemen!” Fortunately nearly all of the attention focused towards me is out of friendly curiosity and genuine interest. Very rarely do I ever experience any hostility or negativity from the Yemeni people.
As I continue along my way home it is inevitable that I will hit traffic jams that are bumper to bumper and which move in single feet (or inches) at a time. This is when my choice to bike really pays off and I am affirmed in my decision, as I maneuver my way through the nooks and crannies of the stalled cars and weave my way past traffic that I leave in my dust. It is a fact that I get around quicker on a bike at these times and free myself from much of the headache that can be associated with city traffic. It is not uncommon for me to pass vehicles during this time as my human powered accelerator zooms past the slow moving manual transmissions of the vehicles sharing the roadway. I feel invincible in these moments and proud as I fly by holding a steady twenty miles per hour. It is these breaks from the hubbub that make it all seem worthwhile, though I do not need these lulls to continue to bike my way through this life.
As I begin to hit the home stretch on my return trip, I should note that the time is fast approaching the daily occurrence of iftar that happens during Ramadan. This is the time in which the daily fast is broken. It is preceded by a great increase in traffic and activity as well as a seemingly exponential build up of emotion and irritability coupled with a steady decline in patience and self-control, as the collective blood-sugar level hits a daily low from twelve plus hours of fasting. Despite making this all the more hectic and unpredictable, it also makes it all the more interesting, exciting, and exhilarating. I continue to forge my way through traffic, seizing even the slightest breaks in the flow of vehicles to cross busy intersections and undoubtedly taking great liberties on my two wheeled human transport system. My ride is nearing its end and I can not help but feel a bit sad that my excitement must come to a temporary close, until I start it all over the following day. In this last stretch I ease into a slower pace and express gratitude that I have once again survived a biking adventure through the spasmodic streets of Sana’a. Thank God/Allah that I get to do it all over again tomorrow!
29 August 2010
19 August 2010
Second day in Yemen (Ramadan beings) and Qat: My experience and perspective
Note: This was written on August 12 and is describing events from August 11.
I started my day much earlier than I had planned, around 7 am, after getting only about three hours of sleep. I just couldn't fall back asleep and felt surprisingly refreshed upon arising. I then finished unpacking all my clothes and other things and ate some breakfast. After doing some more things around my apartment, I ventured outside for another long walk. It was great to finally have a chance to walk around during the daylight. Things look much different when you can actually see them! It didn't rain at all today and was probably in the low 80s most of the day. I walked for about 3 1/2 hours, stopping along the way to take pictures, make some purchases (including two awesome throw rugs that together only cost me about 1400 rials, which is about $5.83 - and one of them is probably five feet by 3 1/2 feet!), attempt to speak Arabic with people, and make some new friends.
Little kids love to have their pictures taken and I had at least 10 small children ask me to take their picture, one time a group of about 5 even ran up a hill to ask me. I walked to the far Eastern (?) edge of Sana'a, which is on a hillside and had a neat bird's eye view of the city, very cool. I also walked through more of the souk (market) and ended up making some friends there. At one point I was surrounded by a group of men and young boys who were interested in me and were listening to the "conversation" I was having with one of the men in the group. He was very friendly and thought it is awesome that I will be in Sana'a for two years. I told him I hope to see him at that souk again (though I probably won't ever give him any business: he sells/butchers chickens :-(.
Another highlight was shortly after this when a man approached me and asked if I needed any help. I didn't really, but could feel a bathroom visit coming on and decided to be proactive and asked him where I could find a bathroom. He then told me to walk with him and soon pointed to a mosque and said I could go in there. I told him "Are you sure I can go in there? I don't think I can." Yahyia - I later learned was his name - assured me I was fine if he accompanied me inside. So I walked through the gates and then removed my shoes/socks before walking in. When first walking into the bathroom/washing side there is a pool of water that you walk through and then go into a large room that splits off into the bathroom stalls and the washing area. Being the only white person in there (which is a pretty common experience in Sana'a) and likely the only non-Muslim, I got quite a few looks. I just found it fascinating to have the opportunity to enter a mosque and see what it is like inside. I considered this a rare opportunity, given the fact that non-Muslims are technically not allowed inside. Around this time I was beginning to become quite tired, due partly from the fact that I had walked several miles and also that I had not eaten or drank anything since leaving my apartment. The reason I had not eaten or drank is that Ramadan started today and during this holiday Muslims abstain from eating or drinking anything (or having sex) during the daylight hours and it is considered rude to eat or drink in front of them. Because Sana'a is a large city with many inhabitants, it is rare to find a place to do this in private, so I just joined the club (until I got home).
Later that day: the evening
I went walking around again last night and took in some of the festive atmosphere that Ramadan brings with it. It is so interesting how opposite the days are compared to the nights during this time. In the daytime there is very little activity and many stores that are normally open are not, which makes sense because a restaurant/eating establishment wouldn't expect to get much business when everyone is fasting. Then during the evening things go back to normal but with an even greater increase in activity and an overall lively spirit. Lots of people all around, qat sessions everywhere, food vendors all over the place, and a general feeling of happiness. I ended up meeting and talking with a bunch of people once again. I was invited to a qat session, got my first Yemeni motorcycle ride (pretty similar to my China experience!), had opportunities to practice my spoken Arabic, bought some raisins & walnuts and a English-Arabic book, and continued to fall in love.
Qat: My experience and perspective
Regarding qat, it is honestly the single easiest way to meet people and be accepted here and is not as addictive as it may sound. Think of it more like a strong coffee type feeling, with a bit more heightened sense of awareness and minus the jitteriness. I have also found it to be an excellent way to practice Arabic, as it gives me an opportunity to sit with locals and ask questions about things and learn new words in the process. In the afternoons and especially in the evenings, it is almost impossible to walk fifteen feet on a given street in Sana’a and not see someone chewing qat. Young men, old men, even small children chew this plant and sometimes get such a huge wad in their cheek that it looks as if they have several golf balls in their mouth. Although one does not see women chewing in public, they do also chew qat but do so behind the privacy of closed doors. During Ramadan, keeping in line with the rules about fasting, Yemenis abstain from qat until after iftar each day. But then the party is on and it seems some feel the need to make up for lost time from earlier in the day. Anytime that Yemenis see me chewing qat I have people ask me if I like it and why I am doing it, but more commonly I just get people who seem to love the fact that a white foreigner is partaking in their beloved qat. The main effects qat has on a person, besides the aforementioned feelings of euphoria, renewed energy, and alleviation of fatigue, is that it significantly suppresses the appetite, increases thirst, and in long term can lead to constipation and other negative side effects. Because of the increase in energy and alertness, chewing qat can make sleep difficult (at least for beginners, I am told by my Yemeni friends), which means it did not help me overcome my jet lag very well.
Overall I decided that chewing qat is like most things: okay in moderation and when done occasionally but a problem when it becomes a habitual activity, which unfortunately is what it is for most users in Yemen. Perhaps the worst impact qat has, in addition to the effects on its users, is on Yemen’s dwindling water supply. Qat requires a considerable amount of water to properly cultivate, which is a huge problem in Yemen because of their limited supply (their water table is much lower than other parts of the world). In addition to this, the demand for qat is so high that far more land is used for cultivating it than is for consumable produce that could help feed the population of Yemen. Unfortunately this problem is not going away and I have heard estimates that their water supply could be completely used up within the a decade. I have heard many different figures - from anywhere between 5 and 20 years - but regardless of the eventual end it is clear that Yemen is facing a very real water crisis. In the end I have decided that I may chew qat in the future, but if I do it will be something that happens once or twice per month. This will not only keep it as a fresh and interesting thing to do, but will also minimize my involvement with it and its profound impact on Yemen’s natural resources. By choosing to limit my involvement I feel I am avoiding becoming a major part of the problem. It is very interesting that one plant could have such a strong grip on a society.
I started my day much earlier than I had planned, around 7 am, after getting only about three hours of sleep. I just couldn't fall back asleep and felt surprisingly refreshed upon arising. I then finished unpacking all my clothes and other things and ate some breakfast. After doing some more things around my apartment, I ventured outside for another long walk. It was great to finally have a chance to walk around during the daylight. Things look much different when you can actually see them! It didn't rain at all today and was probably in the low 80s most of the day. I walked for about 3 1/2 hours, stopping along the way to take pictures, make some purchases (including two awesome throw rugs that together only cost me about 1400 rials, which is about $5.83 - and one of them is probably five feet by 3 1/2 feet!), attempt to speak Arabic with people, and make some new friends.
Little kids love to have their pictures taken and I had at least 10 small children ask me to take their picture, one time a group of about 5 even ran up a hill to ask me. I walked to the far Eastern (?) edge of Sana'a, which is on a hillside and had a neat bird's eye view of the city, very cool. I also walked through more of the souk (market) and ended up making some friends there. At one point I was surrounded by a group of men and young boys who were interested in me and were listening to the "conversation" I was having with one of the men in the group. He was very friendly and thought it is awesome that I will be in Sana'a for two years. I told him I hope to see him at that souk again (though I probably won't ever give him any business: he sells/butchers chickens :-(.
Another highlight was shortly after this when a man approached me and asked if I needed any help. I didn't really, but could feel a bathroom visit coming on and decided to be proactive and asked him where I could find a bathroom. He then told me to walk with him and soon pointed to a mosque and said I could go in there. I told him "Are you sure I can go in there? I don't think I can." Yahyia - I later learned was his name - assured me I was fine if he accompanied me inside. So I walked through the gates and then removed my shoes/socks before walking in. When first walking into the bathroom/washing side there is a pool of water that you walk through and then go into a large room that splits off into the bathroom stalls and the washing area. Being the only white person in there (which is a pretty common experience in Sana'a) and likely the only non-Muslim, I got quite a few looks. I just found it fascinating to have the opportunity to enter a mosque and see what it is like inside. I considered this a rare opportunity, given the fact that non-Muslims are technically not allowed inside. Around this time I was beginning to become quite tired, due partly from the fact that I had walked several miles and also that I had not eaten or drank anything since leaving my apartment. The reason I had not eaten or drank is that Ramadan started today and during this holiday Muslims abstain from eating or drinking anything (or having sex) during the daylight hours and it is considered rude to eat or drink in front of them. Because Sana'a is a large city with many inhabitants, it is rare to find a place to do this in private, so I just joined the club (until I got home).
Later that day: the evening
I went walking around again last night and took in some of the festive atmosphere that Ramadan brings with it. It is so interesting how opposite the days are compared to the nights during this time. In the daytime there is very little activity and many stores that are normally open are not, which makes sense because a restaurant/eating establishment wouldn't expect to get much business when everyone is fasting. Then during the evening things go back to normal but with an even greater increase in activity and an overall lively spirit. Lots of people all around, qat sessions everywhere, food vendors all over the place, and a general feeling of happiness. I ended up meeting and talking with a bunch of people once again. I was invited to a qat session, got my first Yemeni motorcycle ride (pretty similar to my China experience!), had opportunities to practice my spoken Arabic, bought some raisins & walnuts and a English-Arabic book, and continued to fall in love.
Qat: My experience and perspective
Regarding qat, it is honestly the single easiest way to meet people and be accepted here and is not as addictive as it may sound. Think of it more like a strong coffee type feeling, with a bit more heightened sense of awareness and minus the jitteriness. I have also found it to be an excellent way to practice Arabic, as it gives me an opportunity to sit with locals and ask questions about things and learn new words in the process. In the afternoons and especially in the evenings, it is almost impossible to walk fifteen feet on a given street in Sana’a and not see someone chewing qat. Young men, old men, even small children chew this plant and sometimes get such a huge wad in their cheek that it looks as if they have several golf balls in their mouth. Although one does not see women chewing in public, they do also chew qat but do so behind the privacy of closed doors. During Ramadan, keeping in line with the rules about fasting, Yemenis abstain from qat until after iftar each day. But then the party is on and it seems some feel the need to make up for lost time from earlier in the day. Anytime that Yemenis see me chewing qat I have people ask me if I like it and why I am doing it, but more commonly I just get people who seem to love the fact that a white foreigner is partaking in their beloved qat. The main effects qat has on a person, besides the aforementioned feelings of euphoria, renewed energy, and alleviation of fatigue, is that it significantly suppresses the appetite, increases thirst, and in long term can lead to constipation and other negative side effects. Because of the increase in energy and alertness, chewing qat can make sleep difficult (at least for beginners, I am told by my Yemeni friends), which means it did not help me overcome my jet lag very well.
Overall I decided that chewing qat is like most things: okay in moderation and when done occasionally but a problem when it becomes a habitual activity, which unfortunately is what it is for most users in Yemen. Perhaps the worst impact qat has, in addition to the effects on its users, is on Yemen’s dwindling water supply. Qat requires a considerable amount of water to properly cultivate, which is a huge problem in Yemen because of their limited supply (their water table is much lower than other parts of the world). In addition to this, the demand for qat is so high that far more land is used for cultivating it than is for consumable produce that could help feed the population of Yemen. Unfortunately this problem is not going away and I have heard estimates that their water supply could be completely used up within the a decade. I have heard many different figures - from anywhere between 5 and 20 years - but regardless of the eventual end it is clear that Yemen is facing a very real water crisis. In the end I have decided that I may chew qat in the future, but if I do it will be something that happens once or twice per month. This will not only keep it as a fresh and interesting thing to do, but will also minimize my involvement with it and its profound impact on Yemen’s natural resources. By choosing to limit my involvement I feel I am avoiding becoming a major part of the problem. It is very interesting that one plant could have such a strong grip on a society.
15 August 2010
Eating with strangers: Lunch with Andy
(Note: The experience shared in this post was from August 8, 2010.)
Chance meetings with fellow humans can be truly beautiful experiences. When mutually engaged with another person, regardless of his or her background, race, nationality, or religion, our basic social nature can be fully realized. Most often these experiences are shared with a select handful of people we choose to keep in our lives, but they can also be had with complete strangers whom one has had no prior contact with. During a nine hour layover at Chicago O’Hare Int’l Airport on my way to Sana’a, Yemen I had such an encounter that I feel I should share with others.
Before retelling this experience, however, I feel it is necessary to give a bit of background to help contextualize my position in life at this point. I had just arrived in Chicago after an hour and a half flight from Sioux Falls, SD, where I had enjoyed a wonderful sendoff that included every member of my immediate family. It was just after noon when I touched down in Chicago and as a result the first thing on my mind was food. While walking through Terminal 2 on my way to Terminal 5, I passed a Chinese food restaurant that had some great looking mixed vegetables, spicy tofu, and lo mein. Thinking I would probably not find much better or healthier or, for that matter, Vegan food, I decided to get my lunch here and take it with me. After ordering my food I made my way to Terminal 5, which happens to be the International Terminal, and next scouted out a place to enjoy my lunch.
While walking through the International Terminal I was fascinated with seeing all the different signs representing the various airline ticket counters. This was not my first time in an airport of O’Hare’s size, but the first time I recall seeing so many different airlines. Some of the airlines I saw included: British Airways, Air Lingus (Irish), Etihad (a Middle Eastern airline), Taca (Central American), Jamaican Airways, Polish Air, Virgin Atlantic, Air France, China East, Air Japan, Korean Air, and most importantly, for me at least, Royal Jordanian, the airline that would be getting me to first Amman, Jordan and finally my new home in Sana’a, Yemen.
Back to my story, though. After walking past the ticket counters a couple times without seeing any tables, I asked a Chicago policewoman where I could find a place to eat and was then instructed to walk ahead a couple hundred feet or so to where the Food Court was located. I then easily located the Food Court and found an open table where I chose to eat my lunch. I had not been sitting and eating for even five minutes when a middle aged man approached my table and asked if he could sit with me. I told him to make himself comfortable and he then began to sit down with his food. When he saw my Chinese food he said “Where did you find that? It looks better than what I have?” He had a small pizza and explained that he had already checked into the Airline Lounge area, but that there was nothing worth eating there. I explained to him that I had gotten my food back in Terminal 2 and then asked him where he was headed. “Stockholm,” he replied and then asked “How about you?” I then explained that I was heading first to Jordan, but eventually to Yemen, where I would be teaching and living. He had the usual response I get, which is a fairly equal mixture of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps a dash of bewilderment too. As we continued to eat, we both began to take a liking to one another and gradually let down what little guards we each had left as the conversation continued to flow.
At this point I would like to digress for a minute and offer my perspective on these kinds of meetings. In my experience with these kinds of encounters, there is a great difference between talking to someone in passing and really talking to someone. This experience was of the latter type, which I believe happens much less frequently than the former. In order to get to the point where one is really talking to someone and not just exchanging niceties, it takes longer and requires both parties to give full focus and attention to the conversation at hand. This is why I believe it happens so much more infrequently. Too often, even with those we love and care for deeply, it seems that people engage in conversation half-heartedly and without fully investing in the exchange (at least this is often the case for me). In these instances, the conversation does not develop as fully and the two parties do not learn as much from one another than when there is total immersion. I realize that life circumstances do not always allow one to dive into each opportunity to meet and discover fellow humans, but I believe that these opportunities are much more prevalent than we might think and we miss out on them because of walls we have built up, our guard, and our often times selfish nature of being stuck or lost in our own world. Regardless, I find that when I do jump into these chances and discover what others’ life stories are about that they are very enjoyable experiences.
Okay, so back to my story. As I mentioned previously at this point both myself and my new friend began to talk freely, taking a mutual interest in what each other had to offer. I soon learned his name was Andy and his reason for flying to Stockholm. When I asked him if he was originally from Sweden, he said “No, I am originally from Pennsylvania, but I have been living in Sweden the past 34 years.” He later went on to explain that his wife was Swedish and the he had met her 37 years ago while traveling there and described their meeting as “love at first sight.” They have since raised two sons, both who continue to live in Sweden but have traveled to the US several times including this most recent trip he was on. His wife and sons had left a week prior, however, while Andy stayed to attend a singing conference in Missouri. Always curious to find out if others are the only world travelers in their family, I asked him if any of his other siblings had lived overseas. He then told me that at one point two of his sisters were living in Africa (I believe Kenya and maybe Ethiopia, but I can’t remember for sure), one of his brothers was working as a doctor on Baffin Island, Canada (literally one of Canada’s northernmost points), he was living in Sweden, and another brother was back in Pennsylvania. Several of them have since moved back to the states, but Andy continues to live in Sweden and will likely stay the rest of his life. Andy also told me that he had recently gotten dual citizenship for Sweden and the US, after Sweden changed their policy to allow dual citizenship a few years back. For the next twenty or thirty minutes, we exchanged stories of travel and life and told one another about our families and future plans for our lives.
At this point in our conversation, both of us had long ago finished our meals and were now sitting here for the sole reason that we enjoyed one another’s company/conversation and each had several hours to kill before our flights (Andy had three and I had eight & a half). Looking back in retrospect, I find it great that he and I both opened ourselves up to what was to each of us a complete stranger and turned an otherwise lonely airport meal into an enjoyable time with another fellow human. As unfortunate as it may be, it is not as often as I would like that I linger over meals to enjoy conversation even with those closest to me. This experience reminded me how enjoyable this can be and how great it is to be an open vessel to the world. One final story Andy shared with me (which I believe was after I told him about my plans to climb Kilimanjaro) was about a trip he, his wife, and a friend had taken back in 1979. The trip was much like my recent train trip around the US in that it involved stopping and visiting friends in various places. Their trip, however, started in Sweden and was to end in India and was being done all by car! I can’t remember for certain how they originally crossed from Sweden into mainland Europe, but it was either by a ferry or the highway connecting Sweden and Denmark. They then made several stops in Europe, then Turkey, possibly Jordan, and were then crossing into Iran when they were stopped at the border by Iranian guards and told they could not go any further. At the time they did not know the reason for their denied entry, but later learned that it was because of the recent hostage crisis when more than 50 US citizens were held for 444 days. Anyone familiar with geography knows that Iran is the only way to cross Asia at this point to get to India, unless one drives all the way around the Caspian Sea to come down through the -stans, which would involve no less than 1,300 extra miles (2,600 km). Needless to say, their trip ended at this point and they were unable to visit their friends in either Iran or their final destination of India.
Although this was not the actual finish to our conversation, we eventually did come to the point where it was time to move on to the next thing in life as is always the case. As we parted, however, I believe we both felt fortunate at having had this wonderful chance meeting and each wished one another well and safe travels. Andy reiterated how much he hoped my time in Yemen and wherever else I end up in the world goes well. And so, now I too must move on to the next thing in my life and finish this blog post. I hope you have enjoyed.
Chance meetings with fellow humans can be truly beautiful experiences. When mutually engaged with another person, regardless of his or her background, race, nationality, or religion, our basic social nature can be fully realized. Most often these experiences are shared with a select handful of people we choose to keep in our lives, but they can also be had with complete strangers whom one has had no prior contact with. During a nine hour layover at Chicago O’Hare Int’l Airport on my way to Sana’a, Yemen I had such an encounter that I feel I should share with others.
Before retelling this experience, however, I feel it is necessary to give a bit of background to help contextualize my position in life at this point. I had just arrived in Chicago after an hour and a half flight from Sioux Falls, SD, where I had enjoyed a wonderful sendoff that included every member of my immediate family. It was just after noon when I touched down in Chicago and as a result the first thing on my mind was food. While walking through Terminal 2 on my way to Terminal 5, I passed a Chinese food restaurant that had some great looking mixed vegetables, spicy tofu, and lo mein. Thinking I would probably not find much better or healthier or, for that matter, Vegan food, I decided to get my lunch here and take it with me. After ordering my food I made my way to Terminal 5, which happens to be the International Terminal, and next scouted out a place to enjoy my lunch.
While walking through the International Terminal I was fascinated with seeing all the different signs representing the various airline ticket counters. This was not my first time in an airport of O’Hare’s size, but the first time I recall seeing so many different airlines. Some of the airlines I saw included: British Airways, Air Lingus (Irish), Etihad (a Middle Eastern airline), Taca (Central American), Jamaican Airways, Polish Air, Virgin Atlantic, Air France, China East, Air Japan, Korean Air, and most importantly, for me at least, Royal Jordanian, the airline that would be getting me to first Amman, Jordan and finally my new home in Sana’a, Yemen.
Back to my story, though. After walking past the ticket counters a couple times without seeing any tables, I asked a Chicago policewoman where I could find a place to eat and was then instructed to walk ahead a couple hundred feet or so to where the Food Court was located. I then easily located the Food Court and found an open table where I chose to eat my lunch. I had not been sitting and eating for even five minutes when a middle aged man approached my table and asked if he could sit with me. I told him to make himself comfortable and he then began to sit down with his food. When he saw my Chinese food he said “Where did you find that? It looks better than what I have?” He had a small pizza and explained that he had already checked into the Airline Lounge area, but that there was nothing worth eating there. I explained to him that I had gotten my food back in Terminal 2 and then asked him where he was headed. “Stockholm,” he replied and then asked “How about you?” I then explained that I was heading first to Jordan, but eventually to Yemen, where I would be teaching and living. He had the usual response I get, which is a fairly equal mixture of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps a dash of bewilderment too. As we continued to eat, we both began to take a liking to one another and gradually let down what little guards we each had left as the conversation continued to flow.
At this point I would like to digress for a minute and offer my perspective on these kinds of meetings. In my experience with these kinds of encounters, there is a great difference between talking to someone in passing and really talking to someone. This experience was of the latter type, which I believe happens much less frequently than the former. In order to get to the point where one is really talking to someone and not just exchanging niceties, it takes longer and requires both parties to give full focus and attention to the conversation at hand. This is why I believe it happens so much more infrequently. Too often, even with those we love and care for deeply, it seems that people engage in conversation half-heartedly and without fully investing in the exchange (at least this is often the case for me). In these instances, the conversation does not develop as fully and the two parties do not learn as much from one another than when there is total immersion. I realize that life circumstances do not always allow one to dive into each opportunity to meet and discover fellow humans, but I believe that these opportunities are much more prevalent than we might think and we miss out on them because of walls we have built up, our guard, and our often times selfish nature of being stuck or lost in our own world. Regardless, I find that when I do jump into these chances and discover what others’ life stories are about that they are very enjoyable experiences.
Okay, so back to my story. As I mentioned previously at this point both myself and my new friend began to talk freely, taking a mutual interest in what each other had to offer. I soon learned his name was Andy and his reason for flying to Stockholm. When I asked him if he was originally from Sweden, he said “No, I am originally from Pennsylvania, but I have been living in Sweden the past 34 years.” He later went on to explain that his wife was Swedish and the he had met her 37 years ago while traveling there and described their meeting as “love at first sight.” They have since raised two sons, both who continue to live in Sweden but have traveled to the US several times including this most recent trip he was on. His wife and sons had left a week prior, however, while Andy stayed to attend a singing conference in Missouri. Always curious to find out if others are the only world travelers in their family, I asked him if any of his other siblings had lived overseas. He then told me that at one point two of his sisters were living in Africa (I believe Kenya and maybe Ethiopia, but I can’t remember for sure), one of his brothers was working as a doctor on Baffin Island, Canada (literally one of Canada’s northernmost points), he was living in Sweden, and another brother was back in Pennsylvania. Several of them have since moved back to the states, but Andy continues to live in Sweden and will likely stay the rest of his life. Andy also told me that he had recently gotten dual citizenship for Sweden and the US, after Sweden changed their policy to allow dual citizenship a few years back. For the next twenty or thirty minutes, we exchanged stories of travel and life and told one another about our families and future plans for our lives.
At this point in our conversation, both of us had long ago finished our meals and were now sitting here for the sole reason that we enjoyed one another’s company/conversation and each had several hours to kill before our flights (Andy had three and I had eight & a half). Looking back in retrospect, I find it great that he and I both opened ourselves up to what was to each of us a complete stranger and turned an otherwise lonely airport meal into an enjoyable time with another fellow human. As unfortunate as it may be, it is not as often as I would like that I linger over meals to enjoy conversation even with those closest to me. This experience reminded me how enjoyable this can be and how great it is to be an open vessel to the world. One final story Andy shared with me (which I believe was after I told him about my plans to climb Kilimanjaro) was about a trip he, his wife, and a friend had taken back in 1979. The trip was much like my recent train trip around the US in that it involved stopping and visiting friends in various places. Their trip, however, started in Sweden and was to end in India and was being done all by car! I can’t remember for certain how they originally crossed from Sweden into mainland Europe, but it was either by a ferry or the highway connecting Sweden and Denmark. They then made several stops in Europe, then Turkey, possibly Jordan, and were then crossing into Iran when they were stopped at the border by Iranian guards and told they could not go any further. At the time they did not know the reason for their denied entry, but later learned that it was because of the recent hostage crisis when more than 50 US citizens were held for 444 days. Anyone familiar with geography knows that Iran is the only way to cross Asia at this point to get to India, unless one drives all the way around the Caspian Sea to come down through the -stans, which would involve no less than 1,300 extra miles (2,600 km). Needless to say, their trip ended at this point and they were unable to visit their friends in either Iran or their final destination of India.
Although this was not the actual finish to our conversation, we eventually did come to the point where it was time to move on to the next thing in life as is always the case. As we parted, however, I believe we both felt fortunate at having had this wonderful chance meeting and each wished one another well and safe travels. Andy reiterated how much he hoped my time in Yemen and wherever else I end up in the world goes well. And so, now I too must move on to the next thing in my life and finish this blog post. I hope you have enjoyed.
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