ESL

Bureaucrazy: The Korean Edition (part 1)

/ Gallivantrix / 2 Comments

Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve had an update here. I really wanted to do fun and exciting adventure stuff in Seattle while I was “home”, but it turns out that finding an overseas job and filing paperwork is a huge time sink. I have been spending some fun times with my friends here, and I have some trips planned to visit family soon, but really it’s been mostly working and spending all my free time on the paperwork/job hunt or on really mundane stuff like groceries and laundry. Thankfully, I looked back on my posts from last year about paperwork and realized that I totally learned some valuable lessons that have helped me navigate the waters this time around.

I have come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be a wizard level expert at international red tape by the time I am done with this phase of my life. As rewarding as travelling around the world can be, it seems that it’s always going to be expensive. It just so happens in my case, the expense is time, sanity and maybe gray hair and only a little bit of money. Eh, I guess until I’m independently wealthy, I have to pay the red tape price for pursuing my dreams. So, welcome to Bureaucrazy, the ongoing cycle of dull boring (frantic, insane) paperwork that I must complete in pursuit of my life of wonderment and adventure.

Every international traveler knows the joy of passports and visas, and most ESL teachers have a similar list of things that are required for basically every overseas ESL Job ever:

  • CV/Resume
  • Cover Letter
  • Copies of Diplomas/Transcripts
  • TESOL Certificate
  • Letters of Recommendation
  • Recent Photo
  • Copy of Passport page

These things aren’t hard, and I have so many versions of cover letters (it’s really best to be as personalized as possible when writing these) and updates of CVs that I can do them in my sleep. I generally try to take a new photo about once every year or two, but otherwise, once you have these things, you think you’re set. I have copies in my cloud and on a USB I carry with me everywhere so I can do job hunting any time I have a few minutes at a computer.

There were some additional things I thought I needed specifically for South Korea:

  • FBI Criminal Background Check (Apostilled)
  • Apostilled copies of Diplomas
  • Official Transcripts

After the Saudi debacle, I really didn’t think this was going to be any harder or more frustrating a process. I did some cursory research on the CBC and Apostille process and realized that it took forever, but shouldn’t actually be hard (ha-ha). So I determined to start the paperwork process in September (even though the hiring season is Oct-Dec and the school year starts in March). I am so glad I did.

The FBI

It’s not really surprising that we need a criminal records check to get a job. I had to get one from City of Seattle for my Saudi gig, after all. But Korea is not satisfied with a mere city, county or state level criminal records check, oh no. They need the Federal Bureau of Investigation to be in on this. MIB, Moulder and Scully, Quantaco. So, I head over to the FBI website to find out what the process for criminal background check actually is.

  1. Fingerprints on specific government form
  2. FBI CBC application form
  3. money
  4. time
  5. oh and don’t forget to explicitly specify that you’re going to get this apostilled so that they put a seal and signature on it.

So, starting with number 1, I look up places to get fingerprints done and decide to head to our city PD downtown office. I had a very nice and smooth experience. I was the only person around that day and the lady was very nice to me (her daughter also travels overseas a lot). So I left feeling pretty positive about the whole start to this paperwork process. I completed and printed the application form and wrote a sticky note with the reminder to stamp and seal the final document for apostille use, then stuck the whole thing in a big envelope and dropped it in the mail. (I may mention, as foreshadowing, that this is the only time in this process I have not used tracked mail. Never underestimate the importance of tracking numbers.)

Then I decided that I would wait the 6-8 weeks to get my CBC back and send all my documents that needed apostille off to the State Department at once. Convenient, right? Wrong!

A month later, I still hadn’t seen the FBI charge appear on my credit card and was starting to get worried. So I called the info line and was told that they don’t even *open* the applications until they’ve had them for 8-9 weeks. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, the FBI’s already insanely backed up process that is supposed to take 6-8 weeks TOTAL, is now so clogged that it takes them longer than that just to open the envelope. Then another 4-5 weeks to process the request. At this point I don’t even have a means of verifying that they have received my request, because my dumb butt thought that seeing the credit card charge would be enough of a clue and didn’t bother tracking the envelope. (Did I mention the importance of tracking numbers?)

Meanwhile, even though main hiring season is Oct-Dec, I popped online to Dave’s ESL where all the ESL jobs live and noticed that there were some jobs posting early for the March start. I’m not a big procrastinator, so I started applying, of course, and learned that *some* jobs wanted applicants to already have their apostilled documents in hand (or scanned versions of them to include in the application). Which was even more confusing, since the documents are only good for 3-6 months after they are obtained (I still can’t get a straight answer on this timeline). So, I’m starting to freak out a little because on this new extended timeline, I’m not going to have my apostilled background check in time for application season. So, I start researching approved FBI Channellers.

These are a handful of companies that have some strange in-road to the FBI process and can get your CBC in 5-7 DAYS, with all the bells and whistles for apostille. After exchanging a few emails with the company to make sure they really mean it, and I’m not just reading wishful thinking into their website, I’ve been assured that their company is not subject to whatever new policies are causing the 13 week wait time for everyone else, and that all their CBCs are apostille ready, I decide to shell out the 85$ for expedited service nearly 6 weeks after my original submission to the FBI (and still 3-4 weeks before they’ll open it). But this meant another round of fingerprinting and application forms, too.

I moved habitation in the meantime, so I was hoping to go to a police department closer to the house I was staying in, and then to the local post office to send off this new round of application materials, but as it turns out, you can’t get your fingerprints taken at most police stations without an appointment and proof that you live in their jurisdiction. Since I’m basically couch surfing while I’m back in the States, I don’t have proof of living where I’m staying like a driver’s license, bank statement or utility bill, so there was simply no way for me to get my own fingerprints taken except to go to the large municipal police department in downtown Seattle. Round 2 fingerprinting took a little longer because there were more people in line, but still a pretty positive experience (way to go Seattle PD, well done). I take my new fingerprint cards and my application to the Channeller, and go to the post office to mail them registered style so I never have to fear a lack of package arrival again.

About 8 days later, I got a UPS letter with my CBC in it and a letter helpfully telling me I could pay their partner service another huge fee for expedited apostille service. The State Department really seemed to think it only takes a week or two to apostille a document, so I took my chances and spent the roughly 20$ to send the paperwork to the State Department myself instead of the nearly 200$ that the “expidited” service wanted to charge. In the meantime, my card still hasn’t been billed by the FBI and I may or may not receive another CBC sometime … ever.

It’s been pointed out to me by one of my Seattle hippie socialist friends that this processes is incredibly corrupt, since it basically entails a private company using its connections with a federal agency to bypass the public applicants and get served first, then charge an arm and a leg to the public for piggybacking on this privilege. Twice. Yay capitalism.

The Apostille

Moving on to the apostille process (and no, I still don’t know how we’re supposed to say this word. I got a French, Spanish and American version and every office seems to say it differently). When it looked like my CBC was going to be super delayed, I decided to get a jump on the diploma apostilles so that I could show the schools I was applying to that I was doing my best to meet the requirements. Further research led me to discover that the United States Department of State doesn’t apostille diplomas. In fact, local documents have to be apostilled locally. So, actually, only my FBI CBC is going to the US Department of State, but my diplomas need to go to the state level State Department offices. Of course, I make this more complicated by having gotten my BA and MA in two different states. You thought we were one country over here? Oh no. I’ve seen easier transitions between countries in the EuroZone than between certain states in America.

Washington (state not D.C.)

A note to non-US residents: It’s still fascinating to me how many people outside the US don’t realize that Washington state and Washington D.C. are not the same place, and are in fact on opposite sides of the country. D.C. sits on the Potomac which feeds into the Atlantic, it’s close to New York. Washington State is all the way in the far northwest, near Canada and the Pacific.

So, starting local and working outward, I hopped on the Washington Secretary of State website to see what the apostille process was. Although the website is not terribly easy to navigate, I found the apostille process itself to be fairly simple: a notarized copy of the diploma, a printed out application form, and a check. No problemo. Fill in and print out the form, write the check and take my original diploma off to get a new notarized copy made.

Since I had this done last year for the Saudi experience, I decided to go to the same notary as before. But when I asked for a notarized copy I was informed rather rudely that it was illegal to make notarized copies of diplomas, and that they would not do so. I expressed surprise and dismay since they had notarized a copy for me last year. He told me someone must have made a mistake. I pulled out the copy (which I wasn’t using for the apostille because it had Saudi stamps all over it in addition to the notary stamp) and asked him if that was his seal/signature. It was, and at this point he became pretty hostile. I tried to ask what the procedure was, how I could get it done. I tried to show him where on the Secretary of State’s website it said that originals were not accepted for apostille, only notarized copies, but he was downright mean at this point. So we had to leave.

I say we. Fortunately, I was running errands with a friend that day to help keep me sane in traffic. She’s an avid reader of my blog/follower of my travels and occasionally gets to see the barest glimpse of the bureaucracy wars (like that time she got up at 4am to help me call airlines and bring this bunny home from China). Also like this time where we were basically stuck between two people in positions of relative authority telling us totally contradictory information. So, sitting in the car and fuming slightly, I decided that the best option was to call the Secretary of State’s office and find out what the heck was going on.

After three tries, I finally got to the lovely and helpful lady who deals with all the apostille stuff. Really, really good idea. She informed me that apparently in the state of Washington, notaries public aren’t trained in how to do their jobs. These are people who collect fees from the public in order to act as legal witnesses to all kinds of things, and they don’t get trained before they are certified. Go Washington, well done. She told me the name of the Washington State law that I needed to direct the next notary to, where they could find the short forms in this law, and which of the short forms needed to be attached to the copy of my diploma in order for it to be a legitimate notarized copy. She also confessed that whenever improperly notarized copies come to her, she fines the notary, which probably explains why Mr. Grumpy refused to do his job, since he also refused to learn how to do it and so got fined for doing it wrong.

Next, Google gives us a list of nearby notaries. We call one and ask specifically if she knows how to do “true and correct” copies and she says, yes. We go, we stand in line, we get to the front and she has no idea what short forms we are talking about. Thankfully, before we can be turned away, my friend whips out her phone where she’d taken all the notes from our helpful friend in the apostille office and shows this notary where to go. Despite being totally out of her comfort zone, this lady was way more gracious than Mr. Grumpy. She got on her computer, found the page in question, was able to print out the short forms and cut out the one we needed for the copy. And she did it all with good grace. See what happens when we’re nice to each other? I get properly notarized copies and she avoids getting fined by the Secretary of State’s office.

Tennessee

My Bachelor’s Degree apostille is a little more complicated. I went to the University of Memphis for my BA, and so I have to get the apostille from the Tennessee Secretary of State. So, on to their website for the rules. Not only do the copies have to be notarized by a Tennessee licensed notary, it then has to be stamped by the county clerk’s office of whichever county clerk licensed the notary then it can be sent to the Secretary of State for the apostille.

My American readers will have a good understanding of how far away from Seattle Memphis actually is. When I fly over to visit my mother there, it’s a good solid day of flying, like 7-9 hours. For the non-Americans, think about how far from your home country you can get in 7-9 hours of flying and know that isn’t even all the way across America, only about 2/3. So there is no way for me to do this in person. I couldn’t imagine that there was not a way for people living outside the state to achieve this, so I waited until the next business day and called the office to ask what methods existed for people who no longer resided in Tennessee. I was told to find someone who was willing to run around and get the stamps/signatures for me. Because Tennessee is trapped in the mid 1970s and knows nothing of the information age.

Fortunately my mother lives and works in Memphis, and she saw my plight on Facebook and offered to get involved (although she may regret that offer now). So, I printed out the forms, cut the check, and wrote a very long email of very specific instructions, then shipped my diploma to my mom. She managed to get notarized copies (she told me they wrote “true and correct copy” on it, and all I could do was hope that Tennessee doesn’t have a short forms law that their notaries don’t know how to use either). I included a list of all the county clerks offices in her county in the email, and advised her to call ahead before going (because websites are so reliable). She did call ahead, and asked all the right questions, and got directed to an office where she waited for an HOUR just to be told that no the only place that they certify notary signatures is the downtown office. When she called to tell me, I just said, “Welcome to my world.”

She finally made it to the downtown office where she was indeed able to secure the certification, and the Tennessee state apostille arrived in good shape a little more than a week later.

United States

As for the federal apostille, that was another adventure. Once the email alert telling me that my CBC was en route showed up, I started the detailed research on the US State Department website. I downloaded the form and started filling it out. Small forms should not be so complicated, but it turns out that most government forms require additional pages of instructions translating the boxes on the form so that you know what to actually fill in. Just as I’m finishing the form and quintuple checking the instructions to make sure that I haven’t missed anything, I see a little line that says that “you must submit a new cover letter for each request. Failure to do so will result in your case being rejected and your documents returned.” WHAT? I check again, maybe this form is a cover letter? No, the paragraph where this line is written mentions the form by alphanumeric designation specifically. I check the website again which has a list of all the things to include with your mailed in request and there is NO mention of a cover letter. Yet clearly, failure to include one has dire consequences. So, I wrote the most basic “to whom” cover letter expressing my desire to have my document apostilled and not rejected and hoped that was good enough.

In addition to the CBC itself and the application form and the money, the US Secretary of State also wants a self-addressed stamped envelope. These aren’t difficult, although they’ve become increasingly rare because most companies want to be able to track their packages and so simply ask clients to include a return shipping fee (or just raise the fee to account for return shipping cost). It’s been a long time since I had to include an SASE. But it’s not just this, the application form wants to know the shipping carrier and tracking number of the SASE that is inside the envelope that the application form is also inside. I think the poor little guy at the post office hates me.

I wrote myself sticky notes of instructions for this process over the weekend, and then headed into the post office on Monday. I began by picking out flat rate trackable envelopes and filling out address stickers. When I got to the front of the queue, I started out by requesting first the money order I needed to include, then explaining that I needed to know the tracking number for the envelope that would go INSIDE the one I was sending. Then I had to fill in the tracking number on the application form before it could go into the big envelope. Then I had to pay for everything before I could get the money order, so he took the final destination address slip and started logging it into the computer to generate a tracking number and of course a price tag.

He told me that I had written the address incorrectly. I told him I’d copied it exactly off of the US State Department website. He went to a supervisor who told him to get me to re-write the address. I showed him the website.  I still had to rewrite the address. It needs to be pointed out that it wasn’t incorrect information that caused this, but merely which line of the address the information went on. I had written 4 lines of text (as it was on the website) and the USPS decided they needed 5 lines of text. Riiiiight. Let’s hear it once more for the federal government! Finally, I had the package paid for and managed to assemble all the necessary bits (CBC, application form with SASE tracking number, SASE, and the mysterious cover letter) into the envelope and of to the east coast.

Transcripts

This should not be hard. Universities send these out all the time. I needed them to get into grad school. I needed them to get hired in Saudi. But yet for some reason (possibly because the Korean government actually cares about the substance and not merely the form?) this year’s quest for transcripts was unusually dismal. Each school of course has it’s own procedures, and since I’m in town with the UW, I decided I could always run down to the registrar’s office for a quick copy if things got down to the wire, so I would tackle the UM first.

I went on to the website to discover that only e-transcripts can be requested via the online request form, and e-transcripts can’t be official. OK. So I print out and mail off the form requesting my official transcripts, 3 copies just in case (I’m told I need 2, but since it’s all the way across the country I order a spare). When they arrive, they are in an improperly sealed envelope with “return service requested” on the outside instead of “official transcript enclosed” which is what it should say. After a few emails back and forth with the office of transcripts, I discover that I should have added the fact that I needed the transcripts to be signed and sealed (instead of merely requesting “official” transcripts) even though there is no place for this on the form and no indication in the instructions on the website. At least they don’t charge for copies? And eventually she agreed to send me what I needed without me having to submit another request form. Small favors.

The UW accepts online requests, but also charges 9$ per copy so I just ordered 2. They both arrived in the same envelope… For those of you who have never had to deal with multiples of official transcripts, they are invalid after the envelope is opened. So if you have to send an official transcript to multiple places (which you do for going to teach in South Korea) you need them in separate sealed envelopes. I have no idea why the universities (which require official transcripts for admission, transfer and job applications themselves) don’t get it when they issue transcripts. So I also ended up having to email the transcript office here and explain the situation, asking with fervent hope if they would please send me a second official transcript since I had paid the 9$ for it as well as the online “convenience fee” (you know for the privilege of paying for something on the internet). Fortunately, she was very accommodating and agreed to send out a second copy as well.

Letters of Employment Verification

Some of you will have noticed that this isn’t in the list. This is because it wasn’t something I thought I would need, but rather something I discovered in the process of applying for jobs. Basically every single school I applied for wanted these letters from previous employers simply stating that I had in fact worked there and from what day/month/year to what day/month/year. I have not ever encountered such a thing before. I have always been in a situation where someone either took my word for what was on my resume or simply called the company to verify my employment with HR. As such, it had simply not occurred to me to get these letters on my way out of previous jobs. I had tried to get one leaving Saudi, because my boss suggested it, but the company (not surprisingly if you’ve read anything else about my exit process) did not deliver.

So, this meant I had to go back and ask. Since the universities seemed focused on other university jobs, at least that meant I didn’t need to go get letters for my summer teaching gigs. First order of business was to dig up the email for the English department at a school I taught at back in 2007 over in China. I can’t say I expected anything to come of it, but I was pleasantly surprised at how well it went. They responded quite quickly and mailed me a letter exactly in the format I had asked. Wow, awesome.

Then I reached out to the school I had just left in Saudi. It took them two weeks to get back to me since everyone was on vacation when I emailed. My request bounced from person to person in the company, until getting to someone who was willing to talk and then needed all my information again because they couldn’t be bothered to read the original email I sent(?). I had long since determined that my decision to leave this company was correct and justified, but this experience only further solidified it. After several more weeks of confusion, I got a PDF file of a letter that did not include the information I’d asked for, but did include an advertisement for the program that went on for 2 paragraphs.

I wrote back, waited more, got tossed to more different people and eventually told that it was not their policy to use specific dates (because most employers don’t need it), nor to mail copies once a teacher had left. I explain that South Korean universities ALL want exact dates, and also that I did ask for a copy before I left but hadn’t been given one. Then I was told they would make an exception and rewrite the letter, but only mail it to me if I would pay the shipping costs. (BTW, they have a branch office in America, so I have no idea still why the US office couldn’t have slapped a letter in an envelope and sent it for $0.49, but hey! mail it from Saudi, it’s better I’m sure).

I say fine, ok, but can you please also mention that we were teaching in the university, to which they explain no, despite our physical location in a university teaching university students in a program that granted a certificate to the students who had just graduated from the university,  that because I was in the ONLY branch of their program that is like that, because they are contracted with the Department of Labor and not the Department of Education they would not write such a thing in the letter. Fine, ok. Then I don’t hear from them for another two weeks because the country director is out of town. Eventually, after many more emails pleading for my letter with exact dates, they sent me a new pdf. I’m never getting a paper copy. I’m not saying I won’t ever work in Saudi again, but I have some strong feelings about who it won’t be for if I do.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of Bureaucrazy: The Korean Edition where we’ll learn about EPIK teaching options and follow up on more surprise paperwork!

Reflections: Halfway Through Saudi

/ Gallivantrix / 3 Comments

So, we’re in the last few days of my first of two semesters teaching in Saudi. I thought I would take a moment to reflect.

As with all new experiences, there was so much I didn’t know when I first arrived. How to wrap a hijab, how to time my shopping and dining around prayer times, how to haggle for a taxi, and so much more. A visiting substitute teacher started reading my blog from the beginning today, sort of forgetting that my taxi experiences were back from late September and early October, he started giving me some advice on “the way things are” in Saudi. It was a little funny, because I realized how much those early posts must have shown off my ignorance, but at the same time, it was nice to see that I was able to share the real first time experiences so well. I worry sometimes now that I’m leaving out or glossing over things that a Western reader would find interesting or not understand, simply because I’ve become so used to them.

In the time since I arrived I’ve been snorkeling in the Red Sea, and ridden Asia’s tallest double loop roller coaster. I’ve had a marriage proposal from a taxi driver and a slightly less savory offer from an over amorous telephone salesman. I had my first drive by flirting. I went to an all girl gaming convention, a family party at an Istraha and a wedding at the town’s most famous wedding hall. I’ve visited a Saudi home, and been treated to a traditional Saudi meal. I’ve seen the Edge of the World and ridden to the top of the world’s tallest man made structure. And so much more.

Sure sometimes I’m bored or lonely, because my days are not one string of adventures after another, but those times of solitude are needed rest times, and also serve to contrast the excitement of exploration.

Getting back into teaching after a six year break has also been an adventure. It turns out that even though I didn’t get paid for it, I never really stopped teaching. My “teacher mode” is still alive and well, and has been commented on if I accidentally slip into it when chatting with my peers. There were a lot of things about the educational facility and the national system here that I found frustrating at first, and sometimes still do, but I feel like I’ve settled into a groove and nearly every day I enjoy my job, so that seems like a good sign for my present and my future.

Keep Calm and Inshallah

I think one of the more interesting things is my own changes in perception of time and plans. One of the biggest phrases used here is “Inshallah” which literally means “if God wills it”. It’s sort of a catch all phrase that I not only didn’t understand when I arrived, but found endlessly aggravating. I couldn’t understand what was so hard about just committing to a plan, but every time I asked if someone could do something, the answer was “Inshallah”. It didn’t seem to mean anything! Sometimes it was an excuse to say ‘no’ without being rude, sometimes it was a ‘yes, assuming nothing catastrophic goes wrong’, and it could be anything in between.

Before I came here, I was really big into plans, and confirming plans with other people. Are we gonna hang out tonight? If yes, great! If not, I’m gonna find something else to do. But “maybe” means I sit around waiting for you, and you change your mind at the last minute and I miss out on something else cool I could have done if you’d made up your mind earlier today? PNW people are notorious for replying “maybe” when they mean “no”, but you can never tell the one time they’re going to expect you to follow through because they said “maybe”. I still think that’s really rude, but I think I’ve found a headspace where I can be less bothered by it through the power of “Inshallah”.

Now I know that “Inshallah” works because the whole culture embraces it. Everything is slow, no one gets upset when things aren’t on time (except my driver when my plane is late), and if it doesn’t work the way you expected you can generally get someone to help you work it out anyway. For example, once I showed up to the airport a little bit late. The check in desk had closed. In America, this would mean I was s.o.l. I’ve heard my roomie who works for an airline say this often enough. But in Saudi, Inshallah, I can still get on the plane. And I did. It was a convoluted story involving several airline employees moving me from place to place, through security, from one gate to another, and finally hand writing a boarding pass for me, but I got on the plane, and I got back to Tabuk. Ilhamdulillah (thank God). I don’t think I can live by it in America the way people do here, because the whole society supports it, but I’m hoping it helps lower my blood pressure anyway.

The Shrinking To-Do List

Because of the way that everything is so casual about when it happens, you spend a lot of time waiting here. Whether you’re waiting in line at the store, or waiting at home for some news or for your driver, or for prayer to be over so you can go out… there’s a lot of waiting. I think it was Douglas Adams who pointed out that some of the worst time in the world is time spent waiting that you could be doing something fun or useful. I spent some time in the beginning waiting in that state. Then I realized no one but me expected me to do as much with my day as I had done in the states. I could spend hours watching tv while slowly doing my laundry (cause that takes forever) or take an hour to do a self pedicure a couple times a week, or just talk to my mom for 3 hours. I didn’t have to get anything much done, and more importantly, I didn’t have to feel guilty about not accomplishing everything.

I’m not laying around all day every day, mind you. I still teach 5 days a week and go on adventures whenever I can, plus each one of these posts usually represents a solid afternoon’s work. Before, I treated down-time like any of my other mandatory health maintenance tools (like doing yoga, fixing healthy meals, brushing my teeth etc), I knew I needed it to stay healthy, but that was the only way I could “justify” spending an afternoon lounging around in my PJs marathon watching “Dexter”. Since coming to Saudi, I’ve learned that I don’t need to justify it. My to-do list doesn’t have to include a million and one activities just to look full or avoid “wasting time”, it needs to include the things that I genuinely want and need to get done, and if one of those is break out the Shisha and catch up on facebook gossip, that’s ok.

Happier and Happier

The last time I lived abroad for so long, I was still reeling from some pretty bad life experiences that I’m still not quite ready to publicly discuss. Suffice it to say, I was not emotionally/mentally healthy. So, I went through some pretty extreme emotional roller coasters caused in part by my own state, but in large part by culture shock. I felt bi-polar. I was actually really worried I was going crazy at the time, until I found out that it’s fairly normal to react to culture shock this way. (in later years I had a friend who went completely off the deep end within a few days of arriving in China and only managed to not fly home instantly because I could explain this phenomenon over a beer and convince him we could work through it). I would go through phases of loving everything and hating everything. I’d want to go out every day, or I’d want to hide inside and watch tv. I missed the people in Seattle so badly it was a physical ache. I had a six week break for the winter there and decided to go back to visit. Returning to China may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

So when I was getting ready to come to Saudi, I reviewed these experiences and sort of braced myself to have some serious emotional roller coaster-ness. What I didn’t take into account was that I’d been actively learning the art and science of happiness since about the fall of 2012 (I swear, I’m going to write about that someday). I’d started from the basic idea that my main goal in life from thence forth was to be happy. I learned a lot about how to make that happen since then. And it seems to have made a big impact on how I experience culture shock.

To start with, the extreme mood swings simply don’t exist. I’d expected to have the new place euphoria for about 2-3 months and then maybe a slump, and that happened, but neither was as big as it had been in China. Moreover, the slump coincided with some very real-world causes for sadness such as the one year deathiversary of my friend, my first experience being censored, a very serious fever/flu, a new class of absolute hellions (which I did eventually figure out how to relate to and now love), and the impending holiday season in a place where such things are illegal. But even with all those things combined with the anticipated culture shock slump, it really only lasted a couple of weeks, and I was able to find center again as the events that contributed to the icky feelings passed or were resolved.

Secondly, while I think of my friends in America often, and miss them, it’s more like fondly remembering the past and quietly anticipating a future where we are reunited. It isn’t an ache or pain. This might change if I didn’t get to chat with them online or stalk them on facebook, so I’m grateful for all the internet has to offer, but I also recognize the change from needing these people daily to bring me out of depression and looking forward to talking with them or seeing them so I can share the happy times. Mental health win!

When you like Islam, the terrorists loose.

I can’t/don’t want to go into all of the things I’ve learned about Islam while living here in this post. I’m still working on my own understanding both of the culture here and of how my feelings are changing in response. I do want to say that before I came here, I had a solid intellectual understanding that Islam does not equal terrorism. I used to try to correct people’s misconceptions, and would say things about it that I’d learned in a book somewhere, mostly because I don’t like fear, hatred or ignorance about anything. But living here, making real emotional connections with my co-workers and students and seeing how they live inside their religion, and how the fear, hate and ignorance are hurting them has really caused me a deep shift in my emotional understanding.

I’ve found myself having much more emotion-driven responses to Islamaphobic media, and defending Islam and Saudi with much more feeling than I had done in the past. I don’t think I’m going to convert or anything, but I’m extremely grateful to be allowed to see and feel things from this point of view. Sorry, I can’t really get into details until I’m back in the land of free speech, because while my overall intention is positive and supportive, it’s not all roses and I don’t want to ruffle any feathers while I am a guest in this country. Maybe when it’s all over, I’ll be able to write more about what this has meant to me and how the transition has happened as well as list out all the good and bad things I see here with new eyes, but for now, I just want to say that I can feel myself changing, growing and deepening as a result of connecting with the people here.

Islamaphobia sucks. There’s some theories that terrorist groups are actually trying to drive a wedge between Muslims and non-Muslims so the (large majority of) non-violent Muslims are further isolated and driven toward the terrorists for comfort and support. So, piss of a terrorist and be tolerant of Islam!

What’s Next?

Well, now that I’ve gotten my feet under me, and jumped some of the biggest cultural hurdles, I have another semester to look forward to starting in a little over a week. My last real vacation is in just a few days, and I’m planning to get some stunning pics of two Nabatean Ruins and some parts of Dubai I missed last time.

I’m looking forward to the new semester in some ways and not in others. We’ve all learned a lot about the program and each other. We’re hopeful that a new batch of students means a fresh start to avoid our previous mistakes and improve on our successes. But I’m sad because so much of what went wrong this semester means that there’s a crackdown on rules like bathroom breaks and coffee in the classroom. I’m pretty darn tired of feeling like a prison warden when my students are grown adult women, some of whom are married with children of their own. But, since I don’t have any real control over it, I’ll take what I’ve learned from the first semester and just focus on doing what I can in a positive way.

The next semester doesn’t have any breaks for 22 weeks, oh and it’s an extra week long because Ramadan will fall at the end of the semester, shortening our days but lengthening our weeks to balance the hours. I have a few weekend trips I’m hoping to take, however (Inshallah) and I’m interested to see how Ramadan goes in an all Muslim country. I’ve gotten a lot of disparaging comments from the other non-Muslim expats around, but that happens fairly often, so I take it with a grain of salt. I’m sure if this country didn’t pay us so well, 80% of them wouldn’t be here. Besides, by then I’ll be happily planning my summer adventures!

So stay tuned readers, as we continue to travel, seek, teach and learn together 🙂

 

My First Week in Saudi

/ Gallivantrix / Leave a comment

Well, I made it. Wheels touched down in Riyadh one week ago. You all got to read about the incredible journey, so now lets take a look at the first week of life in the Magic Kingdom.

If you want to see more pictures about this week, please visit and like my facebook page, and check out the album, This Week in Tabuk.

THE JOB

This of course takes up most of my time. My first day of work was Sunday, by the way. I landed in Tabuk on Saturday, and started work on Sunday. No break at all. Oh, and also no training. The supposed online training site I was supposed to have access to all summer where I could watch videos and fill out worksheets for feedback (which was a seriously appealing prospect and part of the reason I took the job) was broken all summer, or maybe is just wishful thinking that hasn’t ever worked. Like the toilets… (more later). And the pre-term training that was supposed to start in late August, I couldn’t attend because they took so darn long getting me a visa and a plane ticket that I actually arrived in the second week of school.

IMG_0034So, Sunday morning at 6:40 am, I come downstairs to the van-pool and head to the school. I have an hour before class starts, which is nice, I can check my email, look over my plan for the day, drink my coffee, etc. But on this first day, I did none of this. I stared in confusion at the perfectly symmetrical, identical geometric patterns of the building wondering how I would ever find anything. I talked to the site director about what I should do and got shown a huge amount of paperwork. I collected my students and invented a lesson entirely on the fly.

As it turns out — the internet didn’t work, the a/c was barely working, the toilets didn’t flush, and there was no copy machine because there was “no toner in all of Tabuk”.

Additionally, although the school administered placement tests for the students, someone decided that they should not have a level A-0 class and so split the three groups into A-1, A-1+, and A-2. This might not be a big deal if the teaching method I was sold in the job interview was true, but alas, like so many other things, it was not. I won’t say they meant to lie, but it seems there was a new policy implemented just this school year, so at very least it is no longer true.

See, there’s a book, but we don’t use the book, and the students don’t have the book. The book is a guideline of skills the students should learn and be tested on in each level. Normally, and A-0 is considered someone who has zero English. But they decided A-0 would be learning the material in chapters 1-8. The problem being that this doesn’t start with the alphabet and “Hello, my name is” which is how zero English speakers have to start. It starts with a basic assumption that you have the letters and a small vocabulary, along with a basic understanding of the S.V.O. sentence structure/word order of English.

Ok. So this is fine, I don’t really care what you call them, I care what they know coming to my class, and what I’m expected to help them learn. But A-1’s are supposed to be chapters 9-16, so if they haven’t really got a grip on 1-8, this is not gonna fly.

By the end of the week we have marginally better A/C, some toner for the copy machine (so I can make handouts!), and I’ve convinced them to take my best students up to the A-1+ class, let me take her remedial ones and actually teach to their level A-0, but the toilets still don’t flush…

THE STUDENTS & STAFF

On the plus side, the students are really sweet. Not just mine, but even the random ones I run into in the halls. Its easy for them to see I’m not Saudi, so they like to try out their English on me. Some girls in the elevator struck up a basic conversation, hello, what’s your name, nice to meet you. Of course I responded like a cheerful textbook, but they were so happy. As I left on my floor they waved goodbye and told me I was very nice.

Others don’t speak English but are still curious. One group asked if I spoke Arabic. I replied ‘not very well’, but as we pressed our floor buttons,  I pressed 2, and one of the girls said ‘two’ in English, so I said ‘ithnaan’, which is 2 in Arabic. The girls exploded into giggles and began to compliment my Arabic. I couldn’t help but laugh with them, since the whole thing was so silly, and as I was leaving, I added, ‘shukran’ which means thank you, and sent them into fresh peals of giggling.

These girls show up to school looking like a flock of crows, black abayas, hijabs and niqabs covering everything but their eyes. But once inside, they transform into peacocks. Security checks their outfits at the door, so everyone must have at least calf length skirts and 3/4 length sleeves, no cleavage. But they definitely color it up, add a lot of bling, enough make-up to make any 5 Mary Kay ladies’ yearly commission, and hairspray that has time traveled from the 80’s.

They have a habit of bleaching all or part of the natural eyebrow and drawing a preferred shape back in.  Now, American girls pluck all the time, despite the great pioneering work of Ingrid Bergman in Cassablanca. However, the preferred American drawn on eyebrow is generally thin, high and well separated and looks something like this.

american eyebrow

Whereas the preferred Saudi eyebrow is thick, dark, and creeping together in the middle, giving the impression of a scowl all the time. Now, the picture here is even a little sedate compared to some of the students and staff at the school, so just try to imagine it even thicker towards the bridge of the nose.

saudi eyebrow

And the HAIR. I have to imagine they get to school hours early because there is no way those up-dos could ever go under a hijab. Honestly, I’m not even sure how they got them to stay up. I’ve seen less complicated and more mobile hairstyles in anime. There is also a lot of bleach and henna around. Less than half of them have kept their natural black.

But basically, they’re college girls. I think this may be the only place outside their homes that they can dress and talk with any freedom and no fear of being heard or seen by a man. It really is nice to be able to see them like this.

The expat staff are nearly all nice. My SD is very friendly, patient and supportive. The other two teachers have been with the company longer, even though they only moved to Tabuk this year, so the wonder has worn off, and now they’re just frustrated they can’t do their jobs properly. For [redacted], this seems like a fairly mild kind of oh-well-I-guess-I’ll-cope frustration, but [redacted] is really a very angry, miserable lady. Honestly, I have no idea why she’s still working at this company if it makes her so unhappy, so I think she may just be a chronically unhappy person. I will try not to let it get me down, while trying to keep my optimism to myself as much as possible.

The Saudi staff are also lovely ladies. They always smile when they see me, which makes me smile. One morning, the lady at the student check in desk ran out to us with date cookies. And I got my first real Saudi greeting from [redacted], who keeps all our attendance (teachers and students) and liaises with us if we need copies or supplies other than what our SD provides, or if we have any trouble communicating non-lesson related (clerical or schedule change) information to the students. After our first couple days of the more distant Western handshake, she leaned in and we exchanged two air kisses, Saudi style.

THE HOTEL

In case you didn’t hear, I’m living in a hotel. Not temporarily housed until we find me something else, but living for the year in this hotel. Don’t be fooled by the pictures they’ve posted, those are the deluxe suites. Mine is much smaller. Oh, I could upgrade, and maybe eventually I will, but its more expensive and its not like I need that much space being just me.

It took me a little while to learn how to use everything. There aren’t enough outlets for the appliances, so if you want to use the electric kettle, you have to unplug the range. And if you want to use the microwave, you have to unplug the refrigerator. I got a small washer brought to my room because I didn’t think I wanted to have to take all my clothes down to the cleaners (even though I’m told its quite cheap). I guess I like the autonomy of laundry. This may change.

It has two sides. On one side you fill it with water (in my case from the bidet hose, because its the only water source I don’t have to carry in) and add soap then it agitates it for you. The soap takes forever to rinse out. I’m trying to remember, but I think that when I had a machine like this in China, I just stopped using soap on my underthings because I didn’t want the risk of dried soap in sensitive (and sweaty) places. I’ve rinsed this load 4 times and its still sudsing.

The other side is a spinner, to spin off excess water. However, it is so tiny that it overbalances easily. If your washer at home has ever done this, you know the horrible clunk-clunk  sound it makes as the spinner tries to turn your washer into a helicopter. Usually you can fix it by redistributing the weight of the wet clothes, or at worst, taking some out and doing the spin cycle twice. Right? Not here. This spin side can only handle about one tank top or three panties worth of laundry at a time, and then only if you wring it out by hand first.

All in all, this machine is only a minor improvement over doing laundry down at the river like our great-grandmothers did, and I’m pretty sure everything but underwear is going to the laundry service from now on.

As a power saving method, the power only activates if the card key is in the slot by the door. So When I go out, and have to take the key with me, all the electricity turns off, meaning that my devices can’t charge unless I’m at home. Moreover, since my laptops second battery has gone defective, it runs only on ac power. This is a great mystery because I forgot to turn it off the first day I was here and came home to a powered down PC, but yesterday I forgot (cause I was quite sick.. more later) and came home to the PC  on and my movie even still paused where I left it.

And its a good thing I brought my country adapters. I keep bringing these things everywhere, even though most countries have started installing American style outlets, and most electronics companies now make devices and chargers that can use a world wide variety of voltage outputs. Even in Riyadh I was able to just plug my tablet charger into the wall, no adapter. But all the outlets in my hotel house look like this.IMG_0058

THE SHOPPING

The good news about this hotel thingie is that it is handy to the shops. Since I can’t drive or take a bus, if I want to go anywhere I must either walk or hire a driver. The other female teacher who lives here, apparently doesn’t like going out alone at all, but I’ve been doing it all week and haven’t had any trouble.

On our side of the street there are lots of small local shops including several restaurants, an office supply store, a computer store, the laundry, a kind of high class-ish sweets shop, a fresh juice bar and a little convenience store. At the end of a block or two on the other side of the street is a mall with a well stocked supermarket called Panda where nearly all the food labels are in both English and Arabic, which is nice.

I only explored the rest of the mall briefly last Saturday with [redacted] who decided to use greeting me as an excuse to have company to explore. The stores are mainly geared toward women, clothing, abayas, perfume, accessories, etc. There was a really nice communal play area for children in the middle. The [redacted] made a comment that he felt discriminated against because all the shops were for women and there were only tiny men’s sections way in the back. I told him it was payback for what the women had to endure everywhere else.

While we were exploring, a Saudi woman approached me and asked ‘Amrikiya?’, which I’m sure you can infer means ‘American?’, ‘Mashalla, Amrikiya in Saudi Ilhamdulilah. Doctor?’ (all these other words are praises to Allah in various forms.’ ‘La (no).’ I replied. ‘Teacher.’ ‘Mashallah. Mashalla. Welcome.’ As she walked away, [redacted] was so surprised. He had never in four years teaching in Saudi had such an experience. Maybe there are a few advantages to being a woman here after all?

I’ve been out to several of the restaurants, and one which was closed I have promised to return to on another occasion as the owners/managers made a big fuss of trying to communicate when they opened so I could come back. One restaurant I won’t go back to for two reasons: it had a women’s entrance, separate order window and seating and everything with a wall in between, and it was all horrible fried chicken fast food.

The place right next door is Shawarma, and pretty darn tasty, I might add. You can get a schawarma wrap for 7 riyals, about 2$ US, and I ordered a platter of some kind that came with what ended up being 3 meals and a snack for 20 riyals, about 6$. The other place I tried served me half a tiny but delicious roasted chicken and more saffron rice than I thought I would eat in 3 days for 13 riyals (about 4$).  The place I hope to try next has lovely pictures of vegetable dishes, which I am dying for. So much meat and rice!

I get a few strange looks when I go out, its true. But I need to buy water pretty much every day, so  I usually make a trip of it and pick up some food for dinner and lunch or a sweet snack as well. So far, no bad encounters. Some guys just move away from me, a little like they’re insulted that I’m in their space. But most simply ignore me, which being from Seattle is pretty standard for strangers on the street. One guy actually greeted me in passing, and another tried (I think) to buy me a Coke while I was in the convenience store. The shop keepers are very nice to me and I don’t feel unsafe walking between my house and the mall at least. Not quite ready to go out after full dark, and not quite ready to wander around any corners where I can’t see the hotel from, but I think once I have a working cell phone, I’ll have a little more confidence and see what else I can see.

THE SICK

And finally, I got sick.

Wednesday I was a little extra tired and noticed that I was less patient with the students than I had been the rest of the week. I put it down to the new sleep schedule, the 5am call to prayer waking me every day even though my alarm didn’t go off until 6am, and the general frustration with the things discussed above in ‘the job’ section.

But when I got home and turned the power back on (the A/C doesn’t run unless I’m there) it wasn’t too long before I started to feel cold. This wasn’t entirely new. Bear in mind that since the A/C at school isn’t great, I sweat rather a lot, and so I peel off the abaya and sweaty clothes as soon as I get in, and rinse off while the A/C catches up. I’d been playing with the A/C settings since I got here trying to manage settings when there is no automatic temperature sensor to turn off the air when it gets to 70 and turn it back on at 75, I could only fiddle with the knobs until the room stayed comfortable for more than a couple hours at a time. So I turned the cold to a less cold setting.

But I was almost shivering! So I turned the A/C off, then found my yoga pants and hoodie to wear. Indoors, during the day, in Saudi, with the A/C off. Still couldn’t get warm. So I made some tea. Still shivering, now I’m achy, too. My hand brushed one of my steel earrings and I noticed how warm the metal was. I touched my face and my skin was on fire! Did I have a fever?

I rummaged in my medical kit for a thermometer (yes I travel with a medical kit, size depends on length of stay), and had a 100.6 degree temperature. So, I emailed my SD and sent in the lesson plan for Thursday’s class so someone else could take it. I only realized later that she asked me to call [redacted] to pass off my office key and so they could let the driver know not to wait for me. It wouldn’t have mattered because the temp cell phone they gave me (I can’t get my own until I have the coveted Iqama) isn’t working or at least, in my fevered state on Friday I couldn’t figure it out.

Friday morning, [redacted] comes knocking on my door asking if I’ve overslept because my SD didn’t tell anyone else (to be fair, she thought I had a working phone), so I explained I was sick and handed over my office keys and went back to bed. One one of my many awakenings to visit the toilet and get more water, I saw another email from my SD insisting that I go to a doctor that day, because otherwise it would be an unpaid sick day.

Honestly, with my temperature climbing to 101.5, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I didn’t really care about the money. I decided to go to the doctor to keep her happy, however, and agreed to have the driver pick me up when he dropped the others off from school. The other teacher kindly lent me her phone on my way out so I would have some way of calling the driver back to the clinic when I was done.

At the clinic.

The clinic was nice and clean, if not particularly modern. Although the receptionist didn’t speak any English, he found a nurse to translate and they got me into a doctor right away. The doctor was Egyptian and spoke reasonably good English. He listened to my complaints and asked some questions, but when he realized I’d only been in the country a week, he was pretty sure it was “traveller’s diarhea”. He did a little exam anyway, which was odd because I was wearing the abaya and hijab, then prescribed some antibiotics and ibuprofin. I was to get an injection in the clinic, then some pills from the pharmacy for the next few days.

The injection process was strange. The nice Filipina nurse chatted with me while she worked. I thought she must be used to fussy Saudi women because she seemed so worried when she had to inject a needle. First they did a skin test to make sure I wouldn’t have any reaction to the injected medicine. Next there was a sort of manual IV, where the nurse put an IV needle in my hand attached to a tube that was attached to a large syringe instead of an IV bag. Then she sat patiently beside me while she slowly depressed the plunger and released the medicine into my hand.

We asked all the regular questions, where are you from, how long have you been here, where is your family, etc. Her husband works in another town, but its only 90 minutes away, so they get to spend weekends together.

The whole visit cost 145 riyals, 40 for the doctor and 105 for the medicine. That comes in under 40$ without insurance, by the way. And the school will reimburse me. The pharmacy bill came to about  15$, same deal.

The After Clinic Challenge

Here’s where it gets challenging.  The whole reason I went (although, now I’m glad I did, cause the fever is all gone!) was to make the school happy. To be happy, the school needs a doctors note. I asked the doctor for this, of course, and he told me to send my driver back in 4 hours to pick it up after it had been signed by the clinic manager.

Ok. Just one problem, [redacted], the driver, doesn’t speak English. Actually, I’m starting to think that he uses this as an excuse not to do any “extra work” even though he is paid for many more hours of driving a day than he actually does. So we get home and I have at least managed to communicate that I have something else to say, so he comes inside in the hopes that the hotel clerk can help with the translation.

[redacted] is a nice young man [redacted] who mans the front desk in the afternoon. His English is pretty good and I enjoy talking to him. He was very helpful in getting my washer set up, and fixing the two non-working outlets in my room. I explain to him that I need [redacted] to drive back to the hospital after 4 hours to get the note. This does not work.

At this point, [redacted] and [redacted] come into the lobby because they need to go back out with [redacted] on another errand. Quickly they too are roped into helping in the translation effort. We’re using Google Translate, hand gestures, and a live interpreter (whose first language is Egyptian, by the way, very different from Saudi Arabic) to try to explain that all he has to do is go back to the clinic and pick up a note.

We finally believe we have communicated this, and move on to the pharmacy issue. See, the pharmacy was closed for prayer when I left the clinic so we couldn’t go right away, and all I wanted to do was go back to bed at this point, still sick and feverish as I was. This at least was a task the driver understood, so I handed over the prescription and some money agreeing that he could call my room when he returned.

Around 6:30 pm, my doorbell rings. Its [redacted]. He says the driver has called him from the lobby and keeps asking for me. Its still an hour before the doctor said the note would be ready, so I’m really surprised. I’m also exhausted,  but there’s nothing for it but to throw on my abaya again, wrap my hair up under the hijab and head downstairs.

Where ensued the worst multi-lingual comedy of errors ever. I was sick and it still made me laugh. Or maybe I just laughed to keep from crying.

Good news, he’d gone to the pharmacy, so I wasn’t called down for nothing. I knew I needed the receipt for the school to reimburse me, so I asked for it. [redacted] knew the Arabic and repeated the one word request. After about 5 minutes of gestures and Google Translate, I finally got the receipt, whereupon the driver realized he had to turn over the change as well. I’m not sure he would have given it to me if I hadn’t been insisting on the receipt so much, which is pretty obnoxious since I sent him with 200 riyals and the meds were only 60.

Then we’re back to the doctor’s note. Its too early to go yet, because the doctor said 4 hours. The driver insists the clinic will be closed by that time, and wants to get it on Sunday instead (remember the weekend here is Friday/Saturday). I’m not convinced, since the doctor told me to send the driver in four hours, not the next day, and that would be odd if the clinic were closing before that time. And on top of that, Sunday is too late, since I need to give everything to the school on Sunday when I come back to work.

Finally, we get across that Saturday is the latest it can be done, and the driver knows there is a big teacher dinner he has to drive us to on Saturday, so he indicates that he will take the others to the dinner, and me to the clinic. NO! we all say together. He simply refuses to go alongside the idea that I don’t have to go with him to get this stupid note.

On top of this, he asked for and subsequently kept my receipt for the doctors visit. I’m sure this conversation was just as frustrating for him as the other was for me, because after the pharmacy receipt issue he started asking me for the doctor receipt, but I couldn’t imagine why he would want it, so I thought perhaps he was asking if that was the paper I needed from the clinic.

When I finally produced the receipt from my bag, he was clearly expressing the Arabic for something like ‘finally!’, and he took it with him.

So, another email to the SD explaining that the note is still at the clinic and the driver has one of my receipts. Hopefully we’ll get it resolved in the next few days.

*****

In the mean time, either the medicine is working or it was the shortest flu ever, because I’ve been up since 5am making up for all the time I missed while passed out Wed and Thurs. My fever is gone and my brain is working again, so things are looking more manageable. I got my syllabus for the rest of the term outlined, and wrote my lesson plans for next week. In a little bit, I’ll go for my afternoon stroll out for food and water and tmorrow, hopefully I’ll enjoy a nice evening out with the staff at whatever fancy restaurant they’ve arranged to take us to.