New Website

Okay, so maybe I didn’t write that book.  Doesn’t matter.  I’ve got a fancy-pants website now!  That, folks, is what you call redemption.  I’m too young to write a memoir/autobiography, anyway.  

www.taleof2legs.com

Blog is Dead. Make Way for Book.

Well, hello, there to my scores of fans!  All two of you (and that's definitely wishful thinking)!  My last blog entry was almost exactly one year ago.  That should be evidence enough that this here blog died a very swift death in the scorching Dubai heat last summer and will not be resurrected any time soon.  Make that ever.

However, the good news is that I have settled down in Santa Fe, New Mexico for the next nine months with the sole purpose of combining all my crazy thoughts, stories, and nonsense into something resembling a book.  I have been wanting to write my memoirs for some time, but I always have excuses--no time, work is too stressful, my social life is too colorful, my surroundings aren't inspiring enough, blah blah blah.  Well, I have quit my job and moved to a place where I don't know a soul, and I'm living and writing in a little cottage that's nestled in the desert with stunning mountain views.  I no longer have excuses (except I can't find a damned desk chair that is stylish and comfortable and ergonomically works with my tall desk!).

Whether anyone will be foolish enough to publish my as yet unwritten book remains to be seen, but I am far more worried right now in how I aim to accomplish the frightening task of penning said book!

If I haven't at least written a first draft by March 31, 2013, then I will deem myself a writing failure forever and I will bury any dream of writing for as long as I live.  Amen.

Hello, My Name is Tiffany

Wine = Blog.  No Wine = Writer's Block.

Hello, my name is Tiffany, and I'm an alco-blogger.  I haven't had a drink in ten days. 

Alcohol detox is in full swing.  Alcohol detox doesn't end until Ramadan ends.  Ramadan doesn't end until August 31st.  Blog will most likely be neglected until August 31st.

I've tried to write.  Really, I have.  I got so frustrated with my loss of words and creativity sans vino that I came this close to popping open one teeny little innocent bottle of Malbec.  Miraculously, I resisted the urge. 

Perhaps once I get over the shakes I'll be able to write something...otherwise, see you in September!

Ten Months in Ten Seconds

Okay, in my previous blog I apologized for my ten-month anti-blogging slack-fest and subsequent deterioration in writing skills.  I explained my disastrous Italian holiday about-face that spurred said hiatus. Now, I'm going to attempt to break down the last ten months of my life in one blog entry. 

Symptomatic of my last 2.5 years, this ten-month period has been an ongoing rollercoaster ride of ups, downs, and lots of blah-I-can't-pinpoint-how-I'm-feeling-but-it's-not-great-and-it's-not-bad moments. Fortunately, there were many more ups than downs or blahs, so clearly my life is progressing for the better.

So how do I wrap up ten months in one blog entry?  Simple:  Bullet Points.**

• September 2010:  Left Italy.  Met Spaniard in Brussels.  Together went to Berlin for a week.  Finished trip in Switzerland.  He was working.  I was suffering post-solo-holiday-while-still-kind-of-on-holiday depression (it's a real thing). 
• October 2010:  Broke up with Spaniard (Hardest decision I've ever made...but it was for the best).  Job Interview Spree.  Accepted a job offer.  Flew to the US.  Brother's wedding in Georgia. 
• November 2010:  One week in Miami.  Two weeks of rehab at Project Walk in San Diego, California.  One weekend with old friends in LA.  Flew back to Dubai.  Started new job at http://www.zawya.com/ on November 28th.  Post-breakup depression hits.
• December 2010:  Moved into new apartment.  First business trip to Beirut, Lebanon.  Christmas alone.  Serious regret over breakup.
• January 2011:  Desert camping for New Year's Eve.  Settling into new job.  Housewarming Party. Front tooth broke out of mouth right before said housewarming party. Second business trip to Beirut.  Got tooth fixed.  No more break-up regret. 
• February 2011:  Visit from dear friend Jessica (who I met years ago while living in Korea).  Enjoying the weather.  Eric Clapton concert.
• March 2011:  Third business trip to Beirut.  31st Birthday and accompanying celebrations.
• April 2011:  Bought a car.  Finally got a handicap parking sticker.  Purchased new hot-pink crutches.  Getting warm in Dubai.
• May 2011:  Fourth business trip to Beirut.  Verge of nervous breakdown.  Booked spontaneous trip to Sri Lanka.  Went to Sri Lanka...alone...a decided improvement over Italy in terms of holiday destinations for the crippled.  Lost one hot-pink crutch in the ocean.  Typical.
• June 2011:  Returned from Sri Lanka feeling refreshed, energized, and full of passion for life again (More on that in the next blog entry...).  Sister had 2nd daughter.  Getting toasty in Dubai.
  
  
  Ten months...in a nutshell.  Bravo.

Just to summarize the above outline, coming back to Dubai felt like moving here for the first time.  The previous year I had rarely even been in the country, thanks to my travels and surgeries.  The year before that, I had basically lived in a little over-protected bubble, distancing and alienating myself from anyone and everyone, apart from Spaniard, of course, in whom I unhealthily placed all my trust, love, and dependence.

Imagine the shell-shock when, after two years of living in my own little world, I found myself back in Dubai with all the "new" boxes ticked:  newly single, new job, new apartment, new car, new friends, new life.  It was a beautiful (albeit scary!) concoction of excitement, loneliness, freedom, and fear.  I jumped into my new life with zest and zeal.  I made new friends and reconnected with old ones and I have learned the ropes of my new job.  But most importantly of all, I rediscovered the one thing that I truly missed the most these past 2.5 years...my independence.

And, as earlier insinuated, I had another introspective life-changing solo week, this time in Sri Lanka...more on that and its repercussions in the next blog.

**Footnote for the Nosy:  Front tooth broke out while opening a bag of shredded cheese.  I rocked it.  Job is at a financial intelligence website...no, of course I don't know what that means, I just do customer support and training.  Haven't seen Spaniard since January.  Don't ask.  No regrets.

Lacuna Matata

la·cu·na (noun) -- a gap or missing part, as in a manuscript, series, or logical argument; hiatus.  It's appalling that the lacuna in Tiffany's blog has lasted ten months.

I have been sitting here staring at the computer screen for the last fifteen minutes, trying to come up with a clever excuse for why my blog has suffered a lengthy lacuna.  Sure, I've been busy.  Yes, I've been lazy.  But I think the bottom line is that I have gone through such a transitional period these last ten months that I just had to take a break from blogging and ride the rollercoaster for a while.  (Not to mention the fact that someone very near and dear to me whose opinion is important to me told me that my blog was narcissistic...ouch.)

Now, I'm ready to pick up the metaphorical pen again and get back to it (and thank you to those of you out there who encouraged me to do so!). 

I last left you in August 2010 as I was preparing to embark on a solo trip to Italy.  Before I break down my time since (which will happen in my next blog entry), I want to briefly enlighten you on the change of heart and soul I experienced on that fateful trip (and please refrain from comparing me or my experiences to that self-absorbed woman who wrote "Eat, Pray, Love" or else I will puke). 

Colosseum

I knew the trip to Italy, my first solo backpacking trip since El Accidente, was going to be rough.  Understatement.  Cobblestones + steep hills + intense heat + stairs, stairs everywhere + strolling tourists who don't look where they're going because they're too busy mouth-raping gelato cones + ruins + crutches = HELL. ON. WHEELS.  And let's not forget that I had only been back on crutches after my bilateral ankle surgeries for just under two months, so I was still quite weak.  Two days in, I was berating myself for not having gone to the Maldives instead.  Nevertheless, despite all the factors working against me, and because of my irritatingly stubborn determination, I hobbled my way through the country for twelve days.

Trevi Fountain

I spent four days bulldozing through the major Roman sites and one day recovering in bed while watching "Jersey Shore" (the only English program on TV).  I then traveled north to the medieval town of Siena,  followed by a three-day stay at a 16th century farmhouse in the midst of an organic farm and vineyard in Tuscany.  The trip finished with a few lovely days in Florence and Milan.

 

Mmmm...

It was in that farmhouse in Tuscany, three days of reading, drinking wine, eating home-grown olives, cheese, and pesto picnic-style, where I entertained some deep thought processes regarding my life:  what it was before, what it was now, and what I wanted it to become.  I knew that even though the trip was exhausting and frustrating and at times extremely tear-inducing, it was not a complete failure because I finally felt like "Me" again.  I still had that exhilarating feeling inside that I hadn't felt in years; that feeling that only comes from hopping on and off public transportation and aimlessly wandering down quiet foreign streets with a backpack and without an itinerary.  I've always been my worst critic, but I finally felt proud of myself and thrilled with how far I had come and accomplished, all by myelf!  I had been depressed for months about my lack of independence, and finally I realized that I had recaptured it and I was certainly never going to let it go again. 

The introspective Italian holiday set the wheels in motion in helping me realize that I needed to completely (or at least mostly) stop depending on people, Spaniard included, and finally take charge and full control of my life again.  And that's what I did...and what I've been doing for the last ten months.

Next blog:  The 10-month breakdown...

Due Gambe in Italia...

According to trusty (and not always correct) Google Translate, that means "Two Legs in Italy..."

Last Wednesday I was riding the stationary bike, trying to remember why exactly I want a job, remembering that it has something to do with an ailing bank account, wondering where I'd spent all my money, remembering that it had all gone to physical therapy, flights to the US, doctor's appointments....

I thought about how dependent I've become, how I can't do anything for myself, how I always need people to help me do things, take me shopping, reach high objects, pick up things I'd dropped, piggy-back me when I'm too tired...

I thought about my upcoming trip to Europe in September with Spaniard, I thought about how long it had been since I'd been anywhere by myself, for myself...how long it had been since I'd spent my money on something fun, something exciting, something other than these two freaking skinny-ass legs...!!!

Lightbulb!

Within 24 hours I had changed my flight to Frankfurt on September 3rd to a much earlier flight to Italy.  I'm off in just a few hours...I'm flying into Rome, staying in an apartment right next to Trevi Fountain in the city center for a few nights before heading to Tuscany, Florence, and Venice.  I'll have about twelve days to explore the country before I fly out of Milan on September 5th.  Punchline: By myself. Completely Solo. Me, my crutches, and a 20 Liter backpack...Now that's what you call a recipe for disaster!!

I'm completely excited and nervous and I have no idea what to expect.  I know it will probably be more miserable than fun, but I'm prepared for whatever challenges come my way, be it Roman ruins or Vatican staircases or Tuscan hills or Venetian bridges!  And this time I won't have anyone to carry me (or my bag!) when I get too tired!

 

I'll meet Spaniard in Brussels on the 5th and together we'll continue our pre-planned trip through Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland.  If you don't hear from me before then, then it means I've probably fallen into a gutter somewhere...

Hello Ramadan

Last Wednesday was the official moon sighting/start of the Holy Month of Ramadan.  If you're not well-versed on all things Islam, it's basically a month where the Muslims fast from food, drink, sex, smoke, and impure thoughts from sunrise to sunset.  Of course, there is a lot more to it than that, but I suppose that's the part that affects us non-Muslims the most.

Anyway, Dubai strictly enforces the fast, and most restaurants are closed until sunset.  If you want to eat, smoke, or even take a sip of water, you have to hide it well, or risk getting a ticket...even if you're not fasting!  Throughout the entire month, the city is eerily quiet during the day, roads are empty, and most businesses have shortened working hours.  However, when the sun dips below the horizon and the calls to prayer erupt from the minarets, the city comes alive.  The streets become snarled with traffic as drivers race to restaurants for the Iftar meal and shopping malls are bustling with shoppers taking advantage of extended opening hours.

Anyway, as you can imagine, Ramadan is basically a month where things slow down to the point of shut down, particularly true this year as it falls in the summer.  This also means that there are zero jobs on the market.  Not a good thing for me. 

Just yesterday I was contacted by the company with which I had interviewed in Abu Dhabi; unfortunately, they had to put the job on hold.  As soon as they told me, I felt a wave of relief...who was I kidding?  I did not want to move to boring old Abu Dhabi, no matter how much I tried to pep-talk myself into it!

So now it's back to square one...I've pretty much given up on the job search until after Ramadan.  Actually, I'm off to Europe for a few weeks the first week of September, so I might as well put it off until I'm back on the 25th!  No need to rush these things...