Day 1 – 02-may-2011

OK, first time blogging couldn’t be any weirder. I guess because I'm in an arab country, the typing window goes from the right instead of the left and when you type any punctuation mark, it initially appears at the beginning of the text. So I think I’m going to use word instead.

Air Canada rocks. I mean I’m moving for 2 months, so I need a whole lot of stuff, including some food and (duh!) my guitar. So the guy at the YYC counter yesterday starts giving me shit about how they’re not a moving company. That was especially appreciated given I was pretty much on the verge of tears already. He weighs each of my 2 suitcases and tells me they’re overweight but I can reorganize the stuff and not pay the overweight fee. But they won’t let my guitar come as carry-on like strollers (which is how Westjet did it last time) and it’ll cost 225,00 $ to bring it. Okay, I figure, and I get to repacking my suitcases, watching the line get longer and longer. But when it’s my turn again, the next guy I deal with is super awesome and when he sends me to the cashier, she totally didn’t charge me (and I didn’t even have to make good on my offer to play her a song badly).

Saying “so long” to my guitar while praying it makes it in one piece was hard, but not nearly as hard as saying “so long” to Greg. I couldn’t stop looking at him (and yes, I do realize we spend an awful lot of time staring at each other, sorry to those of you we’ve slightly nauseated). I’m not liking the thought of going 2 months without seeing or touching him, and I bawled as I walked away to go through security.

In the Frankfurt airport, I thanked god for my broken German. It allowed me to determine that there’s no way at all to get a coffee/cappuccino/latte made with lactose-free milk. I bought myself a small salad, a bottle of OJ (what else is new?) and a kickass chocolate bar (German brand called Lauenstein, it was a ginger-lime dark chocolate). All for the low, low price of 17,00 $ CDN.

The Lufthansa flight stopped in Riyadh to refuel and let off passengers and I prayed my guitar wasn’t one of the departing guests. It wasn’t. But I did get my 1^st glimpse of the desert, though at night, so I didn’t see much. I might add that this was the largest plane I’d ever been on; double-decker with seat pattern 2-4-2. The flight to Frankfurt (Air Canada) was jam-packed, but the Lufthansa flight wasn’t, so I got a row to myself. I took a half a sleeping pill (with OJ, of course) and conked out for 4 hrs en route to Frankfurt. Slept another 2 hrs on the 2^nd flight. Got to my room, downed a whole sleeping pill and went to bed around 00h30, and didn’t wake up until 12h10. I feel fantastic. No jetlag at all – man I love good drugs.

At the airport in Doha, they whisked me away to this executive lounge, a fairy tale place with comfy chairs, where the VIPs sit and enjoy cold bottled water (you can’t drink the water here) and little middle eastern treats while the rest of the travelers stand in a never-ending lineup. Ate a date for the first time ever – what the hell have I been afraid of? They’re delicious! Watching through the window of the lounge, I saw a woman with her husband and their two little kids, of maybe 2 and 4 yrs old. They were just being kids, you know, running around a bit and at one point, they almost ran out of the airport. One of the workers grabbed them so they didn’t get out. The mother came over, grabbed them both by the upper arm, dragged them over to where her husband was and literally threw them down on the chairs. Oh man, you could never get away with that in Canada. I realized at that moment that there will be a whole lot of things I’ll not understand or that I’ll disagree with but that I’ll have to keep my trap shut.

Today I sit in my fluffy hotel bathrobe, after eating the muffin I brought with me (cuz muffins from room service cost 10,00 $ CDN) and drinking 2 cups of espresso from the high-tech machine they provide in the room. My driver, Abdullah (yes, that’s right, I have a driver), will come and get me at 16h30 and bring me to my apartment so I can check it out. Until then, I plan to throw on my teeny weeny string bikini and spend the afternoon chilling on the beach, reading a novel and pretending that I’m one of the fortunate few who can actually afford to stay in this hotel. I still haven’t experienced the crushing heat and humidity, as I arrived late at night, but I’m totally ready for my afro.

OK, just previewed this and man, the punctuation is weird. Sorry.