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I have been meaning to get photos of Leslie's place because it is a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from being my dream home, but I keep forgetting. One day. :)
Holly has officially gone insane.
On my way home from psycho-mare, I stopped at the Westin to have lunch with my dad because I haven't seen him in about a month. He'd been away in Jordan; he came back a week ago but has been living at the Westin south of ATL for some airforce conference. Arcent (whatever that means) deals with middle-eastern allies only, so I have met a lot of interesting military figures, Jordanian princes (figureheads mostly) and all that jazz. Today, as I walk into the hotel, stinky and hot and dirty from riding in the muggy heat, Pop deems it fit to inform me that I should comb my hair or something because he will be introducing me to people.
And the water was off, also, so I was pretty much a hot mess.
Nevertheless, I met all these important people in my horsey attire (part of horsey attire includes a thin layer of dust, by the way) and tried not to embarass my dad. The first man was from Jordan, and he was the most talkative- he told me his children's name and what they mean: Ayaat, sign of God; Abdula, servant of God; and something something, servant of The Merciful. He was very excited about Allah; it makes me want to crack open the Qu'uran and just take note... I wonder often and heavily about the parallels between Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. Just different versions of the same story, or more than that?
I also met a Pakistani man, and three american female captains- one of them told me she didn't know what her job was for the week, except to "be a girl". I thought, "wait what?" but didn't have time to ask her what the heck she meant by that. It took me forever to eat lunch because I kept being introduced to all these people- finally my dad brought me over to a table where three men from Oman were sitting in white robes and when I went to shake hands, one of them politely declined;they were all very nice but when one of them told my dad I was 'beautiful' the others looked embarassed. I think it may have been disrespectful of me to shake hands but the same one who called me beautiful asked what I was studying, and remembering the awkward pause after answering "english" to another person, I said " I think I'm going in to be an english teacher" and he said "Good, teaching is a good job for the ladies."
And in my head I was like, really ticked off, but in response I just said "So when is your plane leaving tonight?" with a big old cheesy grin on my face.
Still though, that is the exception. There were other people at the hotel gawking unabashedly at all of the people we were eating with; you could just see the wheels turning in their heads. It's funny how that works. The first Jordanian colonel I talked to kept telling me to come to Petra; I wonder if people there would gawk at me.
The woman I had talked to earlier who said her main job was to 'act like a girl' accompanied my dad to Jordan (along with 9 other women) to do a symposium for Jordanian women who wanted to join the army. It's just been opened up to them. It's a strong contrast to the story I heard recently about a woman in Saudi Arabia: Saudi gang-rape victim is jailed which really, really, really really really really made my stomach turn.
Before I came to lunch, I was talking with the stablehand at Leslie's,Querrino. He had been in the mexican army and apparently left after a couple years because it was SO crooked- the army there is not used for quite as imperialistic purposes as ours; however apparently you can buy them off and send their men to Iraq, too- but anyway, he said that his main job was drug raids on cartels coming up from South America. He had to flee Mexico because they knew who he was and drug dealers would have his head on a plate if they could.
I guess everywhere is crazy.
shake shake shake shake sh-shake it
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