A LETTER FROM JOHN: WELCOME TO MAGGOTVILLE

December 1, 1993

Dear Mom & Dad,

Well, Merry Christmas Holidays. Becky officially has begun the Christmas season. The tree went up last weekend and the lights are out in front. Unfortunately, all the wooden yard decorations she had made have been eaten up by termites (Inserted by Author: writhing heaps of disgusting maggot-like creatures, possibly Formosa termites?). Santa was half gone, as were the candy canes. Owel.

I'll mention to my boss about the problems you've been having calling in. Apparently several other people have reported similar incidents. In the future, you might try giving the phone extension number in both English and Indonesian:

Phone Number 1246

Phone Nomor Satu (saw-too), Dua (doo-ah), Empat (im-pot), Enam (e's are short, like in "pet")

Maybe this will help.

What has Mike got to be upset about, with Geoffrey shaving his head? As I recall, Mike doesn't have any hair up there either, right? I take it Geoffrey's school  has some liberal dress codes. A lot of schools won't allow students in class with "disruptive" styles of dress, including hair styles. I guess he's just flexing his wings a bit.

Panning for Gold!

I think everyone enjoyed Australia. It was nice. In some ways, they are a few years behind the States in things. Apparently many products, such as electrical items and so forth, are tightly controlled. One store owner told me that you can't import electronic items, like games, into the country yourself. Everything has to come through a government-controlled import agency, which controls pricing. Sounds fairly bureaucratic to me. The Perth landscape is not too unlike west Texas, fairly sandy and not a lot of vegetation. The people seemed real friendly and pleasant. The funny thing was that while we were there, they started opening stores on Friday night for shopping. Up until now it was like the States back in the 50's, with stores only open late on Thursday evenings. The rest of the time they closed around 5:30 or 6:00. I don't think much was open on Sundays, as a rule. The restaurant owners are upset about the Friday night openings, thinking it will decrease the Friday night food trade. 

On the catalogs, you might try sending some via the book surface rate. Just stuff as many as you can into the standard mailer for that rate. It will take a while to get here, but that's ok. Any letters regarding upgrades or offers, though, go ahead and send regular mail.

Was her name Mimsy? Can't remember.

Alexis brought home a baby kitten the other day. So I guess we have another animal around the house. The goldfish haven't fared too well. Austin has lost several, plus his tank leaks, and when we returned from Australia, one of Alexis' three had died. I think the cat will be easier to take care of.

Well, UT cost me another case of beer to Dan Reeh this year. I sure wish they'd be able to beat A&M for once. Saw the ending of the Dallas/Miami game on the news. Looked like the snow was pretty deep. That must have been some game.

Not much else to tell now. I'll see if Becky wants to add anything before finding someone who is heading out to mail this for us.  Take care.

Your Son,

John

THE BIG BLOW-UP

Dearest Friends,

In some ways my hubby and I are a lot alike. For one thing, we are both extremely non-confrontational. We'd do just about anything to avoid an argument -- our own, or anyone else's. In my case it was so extreme that just watching things like the Three Stooges or Abbot and Costello could make me twitchy. Part of this, I'm sure, is that neither of us has a glib tongue. John is a good listener, a great audience. I'm the one who thinks of brilliant rejoinders -- hours after the fact when it's too late to do me any good! Hence, we would surely lose in a battle of words, especially with someone who could think on the fly. Anyhoo, since we both hated arguing, and had not yet been taught how to handle disagreements productively, a lot of stuff was still getting swept under the rug in those days.

In other ways we were polar opposites. It was that classic half-empty/half-full scenario. No matter how bad things got, I usually managed to stay fairly cheerful. No matter how good things got, John still managed to stay fairly glum -- which created a nice balance, for the most part. While living the ex-pat life, however, it actually led to one of our biggest fights.

Miss Becky's nest in the Indo-house, where she did her thinking and writing.

You see, I did such a good job of making the best of things that, eventually, John would always forget that there was any down-side to my situation -- that I had given anything up, or made any trade-offs to be there. All he saw was that he had to go to work every day, while I stayed home with a maid and a driver. As if that weren't bad enough, I had the nerve to be all chipper when he got home each day, wanting to tell him about all the fun things the kids and I did while he was at work! Anyway, things finally came to a head one weekend when John went to make a peanut butter sandwich, and discovered we were out of bread. He blurted out something rather hurtful, on the order of "You'd think a woman who didn't have a damn thing to do all day could at least manage to keep bread in the house!", then grabbed the kids and headed off to the snack bar, leaving me standing there with my mouth agape.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, words finally came to me, but of course, I had no one to say them to. They didn't come in a gentle way, either. It was more of an eruption. I had no choice but to grab a pen and start writing a letter to my hubby. I don't remember exactly what was in that one, but I do recall it as one of my better letters -- one where I was able to open his eyes to a few truths, but in a humorous way. I think I started out apologizing for the error of my ways, and telling him he deserved much better. Perhaps he deserved one of the wives we knew who stayed drunk all day long, because it was the only way they could deal with the tedious monotony of their lives here. Or perhaps he should be with the one who was sneaking off to sleep with her hubby's best friend while he was at work. Then again, maybe he would prefer one of those who seemed to be back in the states or away on trips more than they were ever here on the compound, or, better yet, one who refused to come to Indonesia in the first place, even if it meant death to her hubby's career. Oh wait, here's an idea! Maybe I should trade in my part-time maid and the ordeal of fixing my whole family three meals a day, from scratch, almost every darn day, and get not only a live-in maid and a cook, like most everyone we knew, but also a nanny for the kids, like a few others had. That way I could devote every waking minute to his needs.

OK, maybe I didn't really say all that. I think I got a bit carried away there towards the end. Skip that last part and jump ahead to where I closed by saying something like "Silly me! I never knew I actually had a choice in any of this. I thought I had to quit my job at Chez Vous, say goodbye to my friends and family, and a home and a church I adored, to follow you to the ends of the earth. I thought it was my duty to make the most of the situation, and to stay as busy and cheerful as possible. I thought that was what you wanted! Was I wrong? If so, there is a simple solution. Book those tickets and we can be on the next plane outta here!"

His reply? "Damn, Becky! Did you have to go and make me laugh? Couldn't you let me enjoy my righteous indignation a little bit longer,  just this once?"

BAD JU-JU IN JAKARTA

Dearest Friends,

When my oldest sister lived in Saudi Arabia for five years, she got into the habit of bringing really nice gifts home to everyone in the family, each time she came to the States.  As our first home-leave grew ever closer, it suddenly occurred to me that my relatives were probably expecting the same from me.  Well, shee-yutt!!  That was not a happy realization, for 1) unlike my sister, who loved/lived to shop, I pretty much hated it, and 2) even if I didn't, where was I supposed to find all these treasures?  We were living on a company compound, in the middle of the jungle!

So, when my friend Peggy, the most organized, efficient person I know, invited me to go shopping in Jakarta with her, and said she even had a friend we could stay with, who would loan us her car and driver for the day, how could I say no?  To tell you the truth, I don't remember much of anything about our time in Jakarta, or what we bought while there.  I do, however, have vivid memories of the trip home.  I bet Peggy does too.

You see, we had to get up around 4:00 a.m. that last day, in order to get to the airport and catch the co-plane back to Lhok Seumawe.  There was no time to eat breakfast before we left, but I did remember to take one of the pills I had just been prescribed (I non't remember what for).  John had picked them up for me on his way home from work Friday, and thrust them into my hand as I headed off to the airport.  Anyhoo, on Sunday morning as we stood on the porch, saying goodbye to our dear hostess, I suddenly caught a whiff of dog-poo from somewhere in the garden, and that was all she wrote.  A wave of nausea hit me so hard, it almost knocked me over!  I ran around the corner of the house and barfed.  My two friends were very concerned, and tried to usher me back into the house.  "No, no.  I'm fine.  I always get a little queasy if I don't eat breakfast.  It was just the smell.  Besides, we've got a plane to catch!"

The traffic in Jakarta is just what you'd imagine it to be in most ginormous, third world cities.  There is a lot of speeding up for a few seconds, only to slam on the brakes again, with continual whipping back and forth between lanes.  In no time at all I was pretty sure I was going be sick again, but there was no way for our driver to pull off the road.  Lucky for us all, the ever-prepared Miss Peggy whipped a giant zip-lock baggie out of her purse.  By the time we reached the airport, I had filled it up.

Once inside, Peggy took care of checking us in, and I headed straight to the restroom, such as it was.  Every time I'd think it was safe to come out, the nausea would hit me again.  Peggy came to check on me, asking if I was certain I didn't want to return to her friend's house.  "No!  I just want to go home.  Leave me here until they start boarding the plane, then come get me."  By then there was nothing left for me to hurl, except maybe my intestines, and I was so exhausted that I just passed out on the plane, barf-bag clutched tightly in my hands.

When I finally made it to my house, I stumbled past my family and fell into bed.  The next morning I felt much, much better, though I looked as if I had been in a bar-room brawl.  Apparently, all that heaving had caused some blood vessels in my eyes to rupture, and the whites were now ruby-red.  As I was telling John what I had been through, he began to get a very strange look on his face.  "Uh, Beck? You didn't, by any chance, take one of those pills on an empty stomach, did you?"  "Why yes, I did.  Right before we left the house.  Why do you ask?"  "Well, I guess maybe I forgot to tell you what they said, about how important it was to only take them on a full stomach, huh?"  I probably didn't speak to him for a week.

A CHRISTMAS LETTER FROM SUMATRA

Sunday, December 1st, 1991

Dear Friends and Family,

Greetings from beautiful Lhok Seumawe!  Christmas came early for the Lane family this year -- on November 25th to be precise.  That's when our shipment from the States finally arrived.  If you can picture your whole family living out of a few suitcases for over three months, you can imagine our ecstasy at finally having all our "stuff"! (Becky was lost without her microwave, while John pined for his computer.)  It was difficult to decide whether it was more important for her to get the kitchen unpacked and organized, or to get the Christmas decorations out and the tree set up.  The Christmas tree won!

There is so much to tell, it's hard to know where to start.  There are thousands of things we miss about the States (El Chicos, Whataburger, the malls, movies...), and many things that are strange to us here (the public toilets, the language, the way people want to grab the children), but there are also many things that are wonderful.  On the whole, we think the move to Indonesia has been a good one for us all.

The school is fantastic, and with only 5 or 6 kids in each class, you certainly get your share of individual attention. (Alexis thinks she's getting more than her share, and is having to work twice as hard just to keep up!)  Another big plus is that John rarely has to travel on business now, and because everyone has household help here, we are able to be much more involved with the kids and at school. (John might even say "too much!")  In the three short months that we've been here, we have already had to do costumes and make-up for the school play, do the spook house for the carnival, teach cooking to pre-schoolers, teach Sunday school, coach t-ball, and plan the kid's Christmas program.  It's not that we are particularly dedicated either, it's just that with such a small community, everyone has to help out!

Living here is not without its hazards though.  While trying out the new pool floats that came in our shipment, John did get a bit of a sunburn last weekend.  He later talked to his Dad and found out that it was in the mid 20's back in Odessa.  Ah well, we all have our burdens to bear, I suppose.

We really would like to hear from everyone.  Becky promises to personally respond to anyone who writes to her, and not send one of these form letters.  John promises that Becky will answer all his letters also.

Well, we want to wish everyone a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS and A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

LETTERS FROM SUMATRA

Dearest Friends,

I must have written hundreds of letters home during our time overseas -- long, newsy letters intended to give our friends and families a glimpse into our world, and to keep our parents from feeling like they had completely missed out on seeing our kids grow up.  Most of them ended up in the trash, I suppose, but we did find this one precious bundle of them, stashed away in my mother-in-law's desk, after she passed away.  I am forever indebted to her for saving those few, and will share them with you now and again, whenever the time is appropriate.  Following is one from those very early days.

Thursday, Oct. 10, 1991

Dear George & Theda,

Just got your letter yesterday.  Guess it took right at 2 weeks to get here. Munchkin is doing just fine, although she suffered a little from jet lag at first.

Miss Munchkin

The kids are getting excited about the school play (Elephant Child) -- next Wednesday is the big day.  I still can't get over the wonderful costumes I was able to have made, for less than $15 each, including fabric!  They turned out great.

That's Austin, 2nd from right.  Can't find any photos of Lexi's python outfit.  She probably hid them because  the costume "wasn't pretty!"

As we had anticipated, the social life here is wonderful.  There's always something going on.  This Monday we went to a big Cajun-style shrimp boil to celebrate a friend's 40th, and on Saturday we have a plant tour to go on, then a tea that afternoon, and a dinner that night!

Brad's Birthday Boil

The dinner is being put on by the "Hash" group, and they will have skits, etc. I'm really surprised at how much we have all enjoyed going on the hash each Sunday, even Austin (who always hated walking!).  

Last week was especially fun because the walk ended up at the elephant training grounds, and we all got to see them do tricks and go for rides.

They also had a baby bear cub there, and the kids got to hold it!

Don't laugh!  It's a lot harder to climb up on one of those things than you'd expect!

In December the Canadians here will be hosting "Trappers' Day" festivities, complete with dog sled and snow-shoe races.  John quit shaving on October first, so he could participate in their beard-growing contest.  I think it all sounds like a lot of fun.

Peggy Reeh is due home today, finally.  She's been in the states since we got here.  Both her mother and her father passed away, just one week apart, from cancer.  I can't even imagine what she's been through.

One of the families here brought their college-age goddaughter over to stay for a while, and she just happens to be an expert swimming instructor.  I signed Austin up to take private lessons with her twice a week, and he is just loving it!  She said he is already at "level 3", whereas the average six year old is still at level 1.

Our original, screened-in porch.

The workers are in the process of enclosing our patio room right now, and Alexis is making plans for redecorating her bedroom.  We are letting her choose the color to paint it, and thought we might order her some wicker furniture.  It can go in our guest room when we move back home.

An "after" photo of our glassed-in porch.  It's like night and day, isn't it? (teehee)

Well, guess that's all for now.  Take care, and write soon.

Love, Becky

P.S. If you ever feel like calling, the best time to be sure of catching us all in is 8-10 a.m. Sunday morning, your time.  If you keep getting busy signals, try dialing VERY S-L-O-W-L-Y.  Apparently their telephone system here can't keep up with you if you dial too quickly, so you just get a busy signal.

NOT MUCH HELP SO FAR

Dearest Friends,

Writing about this era of our lives will be quite a bit different from writing about that first stint overseas.  There are no journals to help me along, but many more friends whom I have stayed in touch with, and whom I am hoping will contribute "their side" of the story, either in the comments or with guest posts.  We also have many, many more photos from this period (you know how it is when you have kids!) -- photos which have taken me days to pull together into any semblance of order, since most were tossed into boxes without any dates or labels.  I'm still working on that, in fact, and I'm hoping these photos will take the place of my journals, as memory joggers and story inducers.  And then there are my two kids, whom I thought would be the best resource of all.  This is how that's going so far:

Mom: Hey kids, I need your help with something -- not too difficult, I promise! I'm fixing to start writing about our time in Indonesia when you guys were little, and I'd love to start off with a "guest post" from you two.  Doesn't have to be very long -- mainly I just want to hear, in your own words, how you felt when we told you where we were moving, what you were most looking forward to about the move, what scared you the most, how you pictured this unknown place in your head, and how the reality compared to this mental image.  Easy, right?  Only I need it as soon as possible, so JEPAT! JEPAT! (can't remember how to spell that)

Alexis:  Unfortunately, I don't remember much about your announcement that we would be moving. Actually, I don't remember it at all. I do remember sitting in P.E. We were going around the circle, and everybody was saying something good that happened. When it was my turn, I said that I was moving to Indonesia. The teacher looked at me kind of funny, then said "That's not a good thing, that's a sad thing!" (Lex did add some good memories about the trip over and her first impressions, but I'm saving those for later)

Austin: no reply yet

Mom: I'm trying to get all our photos from Indonesia put into chronological order before I start writing, and it's much harder than I expected!  I may need your help now and then.  For now, lets just get your birthday parties, Halloween costumes, and our vacations straight, which will then help me group some of the other photos.

First year: Austin had "the worst birthday ever" at our house, almost as soon as we got there, and Lex had her fairy party that January.  Halloween, I remember helping out with that great spook house (that you guys wouldn't go in), but I don't remember what either of you wore that year.  Could it have been a witch costume and ninja pj's that we brought with us? For vacation, I think we just went to Penang on our own, but a bunch of other Mobil families were there at the same time.

Second Year -- Austin had a Batman pool party I think, and Lex had her 50's birthday party, with the car out front and candy cigarettes.  For Halloween I think maybe Lex had the pink and black satin cancan-dancer outfit, and Austin was the headless horseman.  Does that sound right?  For vacation we went to Phuket and Phi Phi Island, plus, when Aunt Kathy came to visit, we took her to Lake Toba and Penang.

The last year we were there, Lex had her Japanese restaurant birthday party, but I have no idea what we did for Austin's birthday.  Do either of you remember?  For Halloween, I think Lex had that old-timey outfit I made out of lace curtains and flowered cushion cover fabric, and I think Austin used part of his headless-horseman costume with a grodie mask to be a pirate.  Our vacation that year was going to Australia with the Halls and Hunts.  Right?

Austin: I've just realized that I barely remember anything. I remember the headless horseman outfit but I have zero recollection of being a ninja. I don't think I'm going to be a ton of help on this. I do remember the worst birthday ever, though =P Also, you sent an email earlier asking us to write something about moving there. I really don't remember anything from that time. I have a fuzzy memory of watching dad's home video showing off square toilets, and I remember the first day of kindergarten at I.S.O.L, because Chaz and Jordan both had red hair and I automatically assumed they were brothers. But beyond that it's just weird out of order events. I think I was just too young to be really analyzing anything that was going on. I definitely don't remember being particularly upset about moving to the other side of the world. I guess I was always pretty open minded about it. 

Chaz, Jordan and Austin

Mom: One more thing, which teachers did you have each year?

Lex: It all sounds correct to me, but I don't remember what Austin's birthdays were.  Third grade I had Mrs. Nybake, the dragon lady.  Fourth was Mrs. Poulin, and the last year it was Mr. Jacoby.

Austin: Kindergarten was Mrs. Poulin?  1st grade was Mr. Zavala (they mixed in 1st and 2nd grade that year, possibly 3rd), and then 2nd grade I had Mrs. Zavala. That was the year that started out with 5 kids, but then Nikki and Emily moved and it was just me, Ryan, and Trent for the rest of the year. That was pretty neat. 

OUR DOWNHILL SLIDE WITH B&R BEGINS

Dearest Friends,

What I discovered after John's first shore-leave was that, no matter how many great friends I now had, nothing could make up for having to put John back on that boat after so few days at home (especially knowing how unhappy it made him), and nothing could make me panic like going too many days without a letter from him.  One time I went a whole week without a letter, and was just about convinced there'd been some terrible accident offshore, when finally a pile of letters showed up all at once.  Whew!

On April 14th,  I got word that John would be home on the next boat, putting him in right on time.  Woohoo!  The next morning, however, it was still dark when I woke up, which was weird.  Then I realized it kinda hurt just to breathe.  What the...?!  Turned out we were having a doozy of a dust storm.  Luckily it was a Friday, so I didn't have to go to work in it.  Instead I settled in for a bit of sewing, to pass the time until John arrived.  When he still hadn't shown up by 4:00, I decided to go call the office.  They told me the boat was here, but it couldn't pull alongside to unload due to the bad weather.  I sat around feeling sorry for myself (and for John!) the rest of the evening.  At least I had t.v.  There was absolutely nothing to do on those boats.  I'm not sure if they even had beds for everyone!

The next day, after worrying about him all night long, I got word that they weren't sure if he was even on that boat or not!  Sure enough, his boat was still out at the construction barge, unable to leave because of the storm.  He finally made it in late on the 18th, two days before the grand opening of my boss' new shop, which meant I got to work overtime the whole time he was there.  He'd only been home four and a half days when we got word that his boat was leaving the next morning.  Talk about depressed!  Fortunately for us, the weather turned bad again, and this time it worked in our favor.  He got one more day at home.

LIFE IN A JUMBLE

Dearest Friends,

I like having a routine, and I always have.  Even as a young teen, I would make out weekly schedules for myself, as to when to do homework, give myself facials and manicures and such.  It's probably because I have such a terrible memory, and this is the only way I could ensure that everything important got done.  Actually, that's the true reason I started keeping these little agendas in the first place.  Once I reached my early teens, it was the only way I could think of to keep track of my babysitting jobs and schoolwork!  I just had to laugh, though, as I read ahead through the next few months of my 1977 agenda.  Every few pages, it seemed, I wrote that I had "made out a new schedule!"  Obviously, I was having a bit of trouble keeping things under control, and if you know me at all, you know what that means.  When Miss Becky has too much on her plate, Miss Becky gets stressed, and when Miss Becky gets stressed, there's just no telling what will happen!  I hadn't actually reached the dithering stage just yet, though.  For now, I was merely a wee bit discombobulated.

Some of John's photo-goofiness -- The Three Faces of Becky.  The one on the right is the face he saw when he stepped off the boat.  The one in the middle is probably the face he saw when he told me it was time to leave again!

By late March I was busy getting my boss ready for another buying trip to Paris, to stock up the new shop we'd be moving into.  A full year after applying, we were still on the stupid waiting list for a telephone, which could be kind of scary at times, especially with John offshore.  One time Paula and I were supposed to meet up to go shopping at the souk and have dinner afterwards, but she never showed up.  I had to wait until I got to work the next morning, to call and find out if she was ok!  The postal situation wasn't much better either, than it had been in Indonesia.  A birthday package that should have arrived in October, finally showed up on March 17.  Christmas packages came straggling in mid-April.  At least here though, they usually showed up without anything having been filched from them.  I was most ecstatic about a bunch of dressmaking patterns that Mom had sent, which set off a sewing frenzy!  I had also started work on a queen-sized flower garden quilt that I took with me to the handicrafts group meetings each week.  The needles were a-flyin'! 

John made it home for his first shore-leave on March 21st, only two days late.  He did go into the office while he was home, but usually just during the mornings, when I had to be at work myself, so that wasn't too bad.  Unfortunately, we made the mistake of meeting up with friends or having people over almost every day that he was home, which made the week fly by so quickly, it was over in the blink of an eye!  I got sooooo depressed when I found out his boat would be leaving the next day - especially when he told me his other bits of news.  Well, one bit was kind of good.  There was a chance we could still get a house out on the company compound where Paula and Nellie lived.  The other news however, made us unsure whether to accept it or not.  John's boss had informed him that they just couldn't do without him right now, so we wouldn't be able to take our home-leave and Greek vacation in June as we add planned.  In fact, they weren't really sure when they would be able to give him any time off.  Could this have been the beginning of the end?

STORAGE SPACE

 Hubby goes native: learning to appreciate the comfort of caftans in a desert climate.

Dearest Friends,

The one thing that most amazes me, as I read back through my small stack of date books from the 70s (which I hadn't looked at in twenty or thirty years) is just how much I somehow managed to forget.  This was such a momentous era in my life, I thought I would remember it all forever -- in detail!

How could I have completely forgotten, for instance, coming home from work at noon on my birthday to discover that "everything in our garage has been ripped off!"  Not only did I not remember the burglary, I didn't even remember having a garage!  Besides, no one ever got robbed in Bahrain, and what could we possibly have had in there that was worth losing a hand for?  Some empty trunks?  A few pitiful Christmas decorations?

Further along, however, I read that John came home early that evening "to talk to our landlord about our missing stuff", and five days later "we got the stuff from our garage back!"  Finally those memories began floating to the surface.  We weren't really robbed.  The landlord had our stuff!  He must have just decided he wanted to use that garage himself, or maybe he promised it to a more important tenant or something (which could explain why I didn't remember having one).  I faintly remembered someone in the neighborhood, perhaps our friend with the candy and cigarette shop, telling us that they saw our stuff being loaded up, and that we should go talk to the landlord.

As I sat here trying to dredge up these details, it struck me that our brain has much in common with a garage.  Or perhaps an attic would be a better metaphor, being at the tippy-top and all.  Whatever.  The thing is, whenever a house gets too cluttered, we box up some stuff and shove it into the garage or attic.  Each time we do this, other stuff gets shoved further and further towards the back until, eventually, we forget it's even there.  Occasionally, though, when we are up there digging around in search of one thing, we stumble across something else, and that which was forgotten comes flooding back.

Miss Becky decides to go native too!

DRINK. DRIVE. GO TO JAIL.

Dearest Friends,

Fortunately for all concerned, John was a waaaay better driving instructor than my dad or high school coach had been.  He never screamed, or cried, or yanked my pony tail when he wanted me to stop.  In fact, he even took the time to tell me a little bit about how the gear mechanism worked, which made it easier to remember when and why I needed to clutch and shift.

After only three practice sessions with him, I wrote "Hey, I think I'm finally getting the hang of this!" And though, after the fourth one, I wrote "ugh, today's lesson didn't go so hot,"  John decided to turn me loose nonetheless.

A few days later, I made a run to the grocery store.  Afterwards, driving along a nice straight stretch of road, I realized I was really thirsty.  Gawd, how I missed being able to drive through McDonalds or Sonic for a big cup of soda with lots of crushed ice!  Instead I had to settle for reaching into the grocery sack next to me, pulling out a warm can of Pepsi (no Coke products allowed in Bahrain) and holding the steering wheel steady in the crooks of my elbows while popping it open.  It wasn't until I saw the roundabout directly ahead, that I realized I had a serious problem.  I needed to shift gears, and a quick scan told me this new car had no cup holders.  So what was a girl to do?  I quickly tossed the open drink over my shoulder, and prayed that I could get the mess cleaned up before my hubby saw it!

Later I fessed up, and dear John searched the souk until he found one of those plastic cup holders that you could hook into the window slot.  Not long after that, my friend BD and I were out running some erands together, when a Bahraini gentleman in an expensive car decided to exit a roundabout from the inside lane, forcing us off the road and up onto a curb.  Seeing what had happened, he pulled over too.  We climbed out of the car, seriously shaken, but not injured.

About that time, a cop came over.  He walked slowly around the vehicle, inspecting it for damage, then spoke to me in Arabic.  I assumed he was asking us if we were OK, so I smiled and told him we were fine. Both men inspected the car again, peering in through the windows.  The wreck-causer became very animated, pointing to something and waving his arms around.  The cop turned to me, asking more questions.  "No, really.  We're fine!  Don't worry about it."  That's when BD grabbed my arm, saying "Uh, Becky.  I don't think they are the least bit concerned about our welfare.  I'm pretty sure that bozo just pointed to your soda can, then told the cop you are drunk and it was all your fault!"  Thank heavens her Arabic was way better than mine.  She finally convinced the cop that I was not drunk, sticking the can right up under his nose, and he eventually let us go.  I was furious about how rude he was to us, while treating the culprit with such deference and letting him off without so much as a reprimand, but BD stuffed me back into the car, saying "Just be thankful that they aren't hauling us off to a jail somewhere, never to be heard from again!"  I swore off "drinkin' and drivin'" until we were safely back in the states.

THE PENDULUM SWINGS

Dearest Friends,

I have never been able to decide which is worse -- being bored to tears because absolutely nothing is going on, or being totally stressed out, because too much is going on.  For me, it has usually been a case of "be careful what you wish for."  If I complained about being bored, someone up there was sure to send the pendulum swinging all the way to the other side of the spectrum, which is what happened in Bahrain.

Ha!  Bet you didn't know I used to work in a "saloon"!

No sooner had my boss returned from London, than she announced that she would be leaving on a buying trip to Paris within a couple of weeks.  Handling the correspondence with our French suppliers had been a real struggle while she was away, so as soon as I heard that she was leaving again, I got myself down to Alliance Francaise and signed up for a three-afternoons-a-week French class.  Unlike my high school classes, AF believed in speaking nothing but French in class from the very first day.  Although I ended up being the star pupil when it came to vocabulary, my accent caused my teacher to shake his head in woe on more than one occasion, whilst muttering something about "You Texans!"  The hairdresser I worked with, George, was from Lebanon, and spoke French fluently.  When he heard I was taking lessons, he started trying to hold conversations with me as he did my hair.  That's when I probably should have realized that there is a short circuit between my tongue and my brain, and that the only way I would ever be able to communicate would be via the written word.  It took my trying to speak several different languages, including English, before I finally figured that out.

John's job was undergoing some changes as well.  First of all, they took away his half-day off each Thursday, and he was back to working ten hours a day, six days a week.  Then he came home with news of a company-housing compound that was nearing completion, and he said perhaps we should consider moving out there.  "Why on earth would I want to do that, when I've gone to all this trouble to fix this place up, and we live in walking distance to my job, the American club, a movie theater, and everything else."  "Well, um, because it looks like I'm gonna be spending a lot more time off-shore, and I thought you might be more comfortable having people around who can help you out when I'm away."  Well, crap.  But I still wasn't movin'!

Not sure why he was taking pictures of the engine.

On top of my refusal to budge, John had the worst day off ever, right about that time.  We tried to go to the beach, but our car broke down.  So we walked to our friends T & L's house and borrowed their car, but it broke down on us too!  We then caught a taxi over to S & BD's house, so that John could borrow some tools to work on the cars with.  I guess that was the straw that broke the camels back.  The next day we were at the Honda show room, looking at brand new Civics.  He probably figured he'd never have a moment's peace off-shore, unless I had reliable transportation.  Now all he had to do was wait for ours to arrive (which would take at least a month), then pray that our marriage would survive his having to teach me to drive a stick-shift!

It was a bright, lemon yellow, as I recall.

AT LAST

Dearest Friends,

Early the next morning, our friend JH showed up with the shipments.  I couldn't believe they were finally here! (well, all except the dining room set)  That same afternoon, he stopped back by to hook up our stereo, so I could have music while I unpacked.  From that point on, either he or my friend BD's husband would stop by almost daily, to bring mail or phone messages.  I had a feeling my hubby had asked them to keep an eye on his poor, defenseless little wifey while he was gone!  Did I mention that BD, my best (and pretty much only) friend, had gone back to the states to have surgery, and might be gone a couple of months?  Needless to say, I was one lonely girl, and was thrilled to death to have all this unpacking, arranging, and nesting to do, to help pass the time while both John and BD were away.

The day after the shipment arrived, I spent several hours out at the naval base/American school, talking to prospective employers.  The jobs all sounded dead boring -- nothing I would ever have considered back in the states -- but I was getting pretty desperate by that point.  Plus, there were certain perks that came with a navy job.  For one thing, you could get and send mail via their APO system, which was waaaaay quicker and more reliable than our usual method.  Even better, you could shop at their commissary on base, which occasionally got very cool stuff, like Dr. Pepper!

When I was about halfway through my typing classes, I noticed that the sign was back up in the window of that salon/boutique I had been so interested in.  Guess the first person they hired didn't work out.  I sent them my new, improved resume', and crossed all my fingers and toes.  A few days later I was asked, not only to come in and talk with them, but also to come back and discuss a job in the counselor's office at the school.

John finally made it back after a full two weeks offshore, and man oh man, was it good to have him back!  He seemed pretty darn happy to be there, too.  I'm not sure he was really cut out for the offshore life, so was quite happy that it was a one-time thing for him, and not his regular gig.  I couldn't imagine living in a foreign country by yourself, and only getting to see your husband one week out of every month, the way some women did.

The next morning I went back to the school, and they offered me the job.  Such a quandary I was in!  I desperately wanted the job at the boutique, but wasn't sure they were all that impressed by my interview.  What to do, what to do?  I turned the school down.

A few hours later, when John came home for lunch, I was a nervous wreck about telling him I had passed up a sure thing.  Fortunately, he had a message in his hand, asking me to stop back by the boutique at my earliest convenience.  I was over there in two seconds flat.  Not only did I have a job, I was to start the very next day!

DOWN TO THE WIRE

Dearest Friends,

Remember the typing classes I mentioned a while back?  Well, oddly enough, those classes became the high point of my days after a while -- which only proves how desperate I was to get out of the house!  If you recall, I was alone in an Arabic speaking neighborhood, with no car, no phone, and none of my personal belongings.  The few expat friends I had made all had jobs already, and the Bahraini women in my hood, if I ever managed to catch them out of the house, were not exactly what you would call chatty.  By mid-June, though, things were starting to look up.

The first excitement was hearing that there was a neat little handicrafts shop deep in the heart of the souk, if you could find it.  Expats couldn't own businesses there, but this one was opened by a British woman who just happened to have a Bahraini husband.  Since I was sick to death of macrame by that point, we immediately went out in search of it.  Not only was I able to stock up on needlepoint supplies, I also found some very "groovy" candle-making kits, and some hooked-yarn pillow kits that looked like shag carpet on steroids.  I remember thinking they were pretty "far out" at the time.  What can I say?  It was the 70s.

My other lifesaver was the American Club.  Slowly but surely I was getting more and more involved in the activities they had to offer there, such as the American Women's Association and all their various meetings and demonstrations, including Mah Jong lessons!  It was hotter 'n hades out by this time, and our neighborhood had frequent power outages.  When I just couldn't take it anymore, I could walk over to the nice cool club and have a coke, check out some books, and call about a few more job possibilities.

Towards the end of June, we finally heard that our shipments were really coming this time.  Unfortunately, they were to arrive right around the same time that they were planning to send John out to work on an offshore platform for a week or two.  I prayed that the shipment would come first, since I wouldn't have a clue how to get it delivered and unpacked without him, and had no way to communicate with anyone at the office!

It showed up on Thursday morning, July 1st, but since that was the beginning of their weekend, it wouldn't clear customs until Saturday morning, and John was to leave that very afternoon!  Can you imagine my frustration?  Fortunately, we had something to distract ourselves with on Friday.  In honor of America's big Bicentennial celebration, both the American Embassy and the American Club had planned all kinds of festivities, from Bingo to barbecues.  But on Saturday we waited...and waited...and waited.  No shipment.  When we could wait no longer, I took John to catch his boat for the hellish trip out to the platform, and did my best to stay cheerful.  I didn't think he really needed to be worrying about me, while he was busy puking his toenails up -- even if I had no earthly idea how I was going to make it through the next two weeks without him.