All right, in honor of Tian beginning a new and seriously involved relationship with multiplication this week, I pontificate upon the mathematics of travel here today. We are, collectively, scoring about a 40% on this test so far this weekend.
Problem Number 1
We'll start with an easy one. For how many days can one weak-bladdered four year old wear the same underwear and pants without reeking so horribly of urine that you must break down and unpack previously packed clean clothes?
Answer
One day. There is no other answer for this one, unless you are a chronic allergy sufferer. Then you may have answered, "Until my Claritin kicks in." Sorry if you got that one wrong. Maybe it wasn't as easy as I'd expected it would be.
Problem Number 2
How many ways can a mountain of school books and seven baskets of clean clothes be combined in order to fit into a given quantity of luggage (9 bags), without any one of those bags exceeding 50 pounds in weight?
Got the answer? Good. Now subtract out three of those shipping containers which the husband deems "inappropriate for air travel" and run quickly to a thrift store to see if they have some of those fancy rolly bags that will hold that additional 150 pounds. Now do it again the next day.
For extra credit, calculate the number of gallons of gasoline you burned running all over Gloucester County searching the thrift stores for cheap luggage to replace the "inappropriate shipping containers".
Answer
The only way to figure out this one is to drag out a bathroom scale and make your husband get on it, announce his weight, and then start piling bags into his arms, finally subtracting one number from another. The combinations are infinite, but I would estimate that we tried 768 combinations over the course of three days of packing.
And don't bother with calculating the gasoline. It gets too depressing.
Problem Number 3
If a family is housed for a night on the fourth floor of a hotel above an older, crabby gentleman, how many hours of jumping, skipping and pounding will the man tolerate before he comes upstairs, rattles the door, and expresses his dissatisfaction with the noise?
Answer
48 minutes.
Problem Number 4
All children need to be fed. However, some children need to be fed more often than others. Keeping this in mind, on average how long can you march three children throughout the Civil War sites in the City of Richmond, Virginia, before one of them complains about imminent starvation?
Answer
If you are a parent you will know this is a trick question. Their hunger level will directly correlate to how bored they are. Fortunately, the National Park system offers the Junior Ranger Program, which is exciting enough and offers enough incentive for completion that it staves off boredom. At the end of two hours of searching for solutions to questions, the kids are awarded with a plastic pin-on badge.
The answer to this one today was SEVEN HOURS!
Problem Number 5
If a family of five is passing through security, how many times will the husband have to run to the bathroom to empty water bottles? And how many forays into the bags will the mother have to make in order for all toiletries to be extracted from their four carry-ons?
Answer
The father will have to make four trips to the bathroom (since he is the only one who still has shoes on) and the mother will have to try three times to find all the toiletries. As an added bonus, the mother will also have to repack one of the carry-ons after the elder daughter dumps it all over the floor right in front of the metal detector. Extra credit for you if you got that bag dumping part.
Problem Number 6
Be careful with this last one as it is apparently very tricky.
If you receive an electronic voucher from the airline stating that your flight will depart Richmond International at 2018, what time would that be on a standard clock?
Hint: If you are tempted to answer, "6:18", like Tony did today, then you would be wrong. Calculate carefully because if you get it wrong you may have to spend many hours waiting at a largely empty flight gate.
Answer
Yes,that is right, the answer is 8:18 PM. We rolled into the airport at 3:15 expecting a very reasonable three hours during which we would check our bags, enjoy a leisurely stroll about the airport, and have a bite to eat. Instead we were greeted with barely contained snickers at the check-in counter and the observation, "You can certainly go ahead and take your time getting to the gate now, can't you?"
The desk crew then responded with a bit of pity by letting us check our bags in a little early and pointing us toward Applebee's. Now we are at the gate with our carry-ons open and spread throughout the entire area. United either hates us for the mess or loves us for the entertainment to be had from us.
How did you score? Not anticipating our mathematically-challenged brains' responses, I scored very poorly so congratulations if you know us well enough to have garnered a 70% or above.
We should be in Oman in 20 hours. Look for a new post next week (inshallah, as always!)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
What We Miss
So the meaning of "you" was all of us and we are looking at seven more days in the United States until we, all five of us, once again assume the expat label.
A kindly woman who will remain nameless recently asked me, "What will you miss the most when you are there? Will you miss your freedoms you have here? You will have to cover your head, won't you?" She then rambled along, in a concern-tinged voice, about burqas (the head to toe covering required if women in Saudi Arabia) and camels and hedonistic, porkless lands far far away.
What will we miss?
Well right away we will miss a couple of days of school. Tian schools like a dream, interested in and diligent about everything, reading from extra resources,and using her artistic talents to create a detailed picture timeline of monks and kings long ago dead.
Silas schools like a sloth entrapped in thick, slimy mud. He barely moves during the school day. Instead he cries and whines, he slides from his chair onto the carpeting underneath the table, where he curls into a ball. If he had the vocabulary, he would probably swear a red streak. So some of us will miss school for those two days and some of us will be doing a happy dance.
We will miss Tony's birthday in the flurry of airplanes and connections and settling into a new country and a new routine.
We will miss our cats, Dory and Oscar, and Tian has already had a tearful evening when all she wanted was to bury her face in Oscar's thick black fur. "When I am sad and no one will listen to me Oscar always lets me snuGGGLLLLEEE! (WAH!!!!!!)" My suggestion, that she bury her face in the fur of my parents' archaic Siamese cat, Sydney, was met with another sob. "I would but Sydney smells bad! And last time I buried my face in her fur she licked my finger and when I sniffed it it smelled like POOOOOP!!!! (WAH!!!! GIGGLE!!!!!)"
And of course we will miss our families, too. That is a given. But what will we miss besides the obvious?
This morning Tony and I went for a walk. The morning air was cool and crisp and the sky was that unbelievable blue it turns only in the autumn. We saw the flags flying half mast for 9/11 and talked about what we had missed last time we were out of the country. We missed the shock and grieving of 9/11 while we were in South Korea.
We pulled together our memories of that night (if was night for us on that side of the world). Our telephone rang after we had gone to bed; on the other end we heard broken English, punctuated with, "I am sorry...I am sorry...your TV...I am sorry. A building...an airplane...hello." We turned the set on just in time to see the North Tower collapse; we were thoroughly confused by what we were seeing until we managed to find a CNN broadcast.
For a couple of days after 9/11, we caught glimpses of the towers collapsing as Korean Broadcasting replayed the footage. We had people approach us and say, "I am so sorry about your country." But it was over for us within the week. We heard nothing more from the Korean media, which allowed our sadness and concern to heal naturally and relatively quickly.
So as we passed the post office today and saw that American flag, its tip nearly drooping to the ground, we realized that what we will miss in Oman is the daily ebb and flow of life here in the United States. As we return at the end of our contract, we will be missing months and years of events that have occured on this side of the Atlantic while we have been away.
Okay, but when you come right down to it, most of all we will miss the cats. But only the ones that don't smell like poop.
A kindly woman who will remain nameless recently asked me, "What will you miss the most when you are there? Will you miss your freedoms you have here? You will have to cover your head, won't you?" She then rambled along, in a concern-tinged voice, about burqas (the head to toe covering required if women in Saudi Arabia) and camels and hedonistic, porkless lands far far away.
What will we miss?
Well right away we will miss a couple of days of school. Tian schools like a dream, interested in and diligent about everything, reading from extra resources,and using her artistic talents to create a detailed picture timeline of monks and kings long ago dead.
Silas schools like a sloth entrapped in thick, slimy mud. He barely moves during the school day. Instead he cries and whines, he slides from his chair onto the carpeting underneath the table, where he curls into a ball. If he had the vocabulary, he would probably swear a red streak. So some of us will miss school for those two days and some of us will be doing a happy dance.
We will miss Tony's birthday in the flurry of airplanes and connections and settling into a new country and a new routine.
We will miss our cats, Dory and Oscar, and Tian has already had a tearful evening when all she wanted was to bury her face in Oscar's thick black fur. "When I am sad and no one will listen to me Oscar always lets me snuGGGLLLLEEE! (WAH!!!!!!)" My suggestion, that she bury her face in the fur of my parents' archaic Siamese cat, Sydney, was met with another sob. "I would but Sydney smells bad! And last time I buried my face in her fur she licked my finger and when I sniffed it it smelled like POOOOOP!!!! (WAH!!!! GIGGLE!!!!!)"
And of course we will miss our families, too. That is a given. But what will we miss besides the obvious?
This morning Tony and I went for a walk. The morning air was cool and crisp and the sky was that unbelievable blue it turns only in the autumn. We saw the flags flying half mast for 9/11 and talked about what we had missed last time we were out of the country. We missed the shock and grieving of 9/11 while we were in South Korea.
We pulled together our memories of that night (if was night for us on that side of the world). Our telephone rang after we had gone to bed; on the other end we heard broken English, punctuated with, "I am sorry...I am sorry...your TV...I am sorry. A building...an airplane...hello." We turned the set on just in time to see the North Tower collapse; we were thoroughly confused by what we were seeing until we managed to find a CNN broadcast.
For a couple of days after 9/11, we caught glimpses of the towers collapsing as Korean Broadcasting replayed the footage. We had people approach us and say, "I am so sorry about your country." But it was over for us within the week. We heard nothing more from the Korean media, which allowed our sadness and concern to heal naturally and relatively quickly.
So as we passed the post office today and saw that American flag, its tip nearly drooping to the ground, we realized that what we will miss in Oman is the daily ebb and flow of life here in the United States. As we return at the end of our contract, we will be missing months and years of events that have occured on this side of the Atlantic while we have been away.
Okay, but when you come right down to it, most of all we will miss the cats. But only the ones that don't smell like poop.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
And "You" Means....
What is the meaning of "you"?
I feel a bit like Bill Clinton (bless his heart) deliberating over the meaning of "is". But really, what is the meaning of "you"? Because this is currently what is puzzling me over our departure for Oman.
In English, there is no plural of you. No, wait, I retract that statement. Ireland, or at least Northern Ireland, uses "youse" to indicate the plural, and if our contact in Oman had written, "Youse will be receiving more information on your September 19th departure," I would know who, exactly, is leaving on the 19th.
If our contact had used the South's plural of "you", "y'all", I would know whether or not I should repack my clothing. However, all she said was, "Dear Tony, You will be departing for Oman on September 19th. You will soon receive more information...". Now to me, that sounds like the singular form of "you", don't you (plural) think?
This somewhat ambiguous information we have been receiving is reminding me of one of the greatest challenges associated with living and working abroad--language, and not the foreign one. My main difficulty is always with the English.
When I lived in China in the early 90s, I had a Chinese colleague whose English name was Kent. Kent was Mr. Cool. He wore stylish blue polyester pants, had a stylish mole, and had produced one son to carry on the family name. He drove a scooter instead of riding a bike and he spoke English communicatively. He was truly amazing.
Kent used to knock on my door in the evenings and make proclamations such as, "You had better lock your bike in the middle of the rack," "you had better eat rice instead of bread," "you had better clean your porch." "You had better" was the only imperative he knew and, coming from a guy who was the same age as I was, it rubbed me the wrong way. "You had better" is a phrase you use to scold someone, not make kind suggestions, but Cool Kent didn't know that.
We are not yet into Oman but we are already suffering from English that lacks the same nuances as that to which we are accustomed. Did that "you" in Tony's email mean that we are all going to be flying to Oman on the 19th? Or did it mean that Tony will be flying ahead and the kids and I will follow behind at a later date?
With the Eid holiday upon the Middle East, we will quite likely not know who exactly is going until the 18th.
Of course, it would be extremely helpful if we were to hear by tomorrow whether or not we are all going on the 19th.
No, no, wait...we had better hear soon. That's much more appropriate to the situation, don't youse think?
I feel a bit like Bill Clinton (bless his heart) deliberating over the meaning of "is". But really, what is the meaning of "you"? Because this is currently what is puzzling me over our departure for Oman.
In English, there is no plural of you. No, wait, I retract that statement. Ireland, or at least Northern Ireland, uses "youse" to indicate the plural, and if our contact in Oman had written, "Youse will be receiving more information on your September 19th departure," I would know who, exactly, is leaving on the 19th.
If our contact had used the South's plural of "you", "y'all", I would know whether or not I should repack my clothing. However, all she said was, "Dear Tony, You will be departing for Oman on September 19th. You will soon receive more information...". Now to me, that sounds like the singular form of "you", don't you (plural) think?
This somewhat ambiguous information we have been receiving is reminding me of one of the greatest challenges associated with living and working abroad--language, and not the foreign one. My main difficulty is always with the English.
When I lived in China in the early 90s, I had a Chinese colleague whose English name was Kent. Kent was Mr. Cool. He wore stylish blue polyester pants, had a stylish mole, and had produced one son to carry on the family name. He drove a scooter instead of riding a bike and he spoke English communicatively. He was truly amazing.
Kent used to knock on my door in the evenings and make proclamations such as, "You had better lock your bike in the middle of the rack," "you had better eat rice instead of bread," "you had better clean your porch." "You had better" was the only imperative he knew and, coming from a guy who was the same age as I was, it rubbed me the wrong way. "You had better" is a phrase you use to scold someone, not make kind suggestions, but Cool Kent didn't know that.
We are not yet into Oman but we are already suffering from English that lacks the same nuances as that to which we are accustomed. Did that "you" in Tony's email mean that we are all going to be flying to Oman on the 19th? Or did it mean that Tony will be flying ahead and the kids and I will follow behind at a later date?
With the Eid holiday upon the Middle East, we will quite likely not know who exactly is going until the 18th.
Of course, it would be extremely helpful if we were to hear by tomorrow whether or not we are all going on the 19th.
No, no, wait...we had better hear soon. That's much more appropriate to the situation, don't youse think?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Really?
Homeschooling always has sounded like a sweet option for education, especially after reading blog after blog online, published by mother after enthusiastic mother heralding the sheer joy they find in their experience. "It is the most holy, intimate experience..." gushes one. "There is nothing you could do that would bring you closer to your children," squeals another. And my personal favorite is, "Every moment is a joy."
Really? Every moment?
We started school on Monday out of boredom. The day before, Tian had ridden more than ten miles on her bike, circling my parents' neighborhood at least five times, admittedly losing count after the fourth lap. Silas had taken whining to a new spine-tingling level of perfection. And Tehva kept indiscriminately punching people, which meant that she was bored.
So I dug out the textbooks, trade books, and curriculum I had meticulously packed in the preceding weeks. I extracted a tiny cache of supplies and lesson plans I had prepared during the early summer and set up shop (or school) in my parents' dining room. Tian did a happy dance, and Silas shrieked with excitement. "All right," I thought. "This is going to rock!"
On Monday we started and the day went like a dream. The experience was truly everything those blogging, home school mommies had promised--close, joyous, (I wouldn't call it intimate), wonderful--it was the perfect teacher and the students finished the day energized by the experience.
Then came Tuesday. Within an hour Silas was under the table, crying, and I was reduced to pulling out all the tricks I had saved up after fifteen years of teaching other people's children. They worked miraculously on my own children but left me shaken and cursing those silly home school mommies. We were not enjoying every minute. Not even every other minute.
This morning (Thursday) school started and then ended just as quickly due to concentration issues from Silas, who leaked tears from the corners of his big, lashy eyes. A break, some outside time, and then an impromptu art lesson all served to bring him back onto the straight and narrow. However, during his language lesson the first sentence he penned was, "I hate homeschooling." (At least he used a pronoun, which was the assignment!)
My more seasoned and experienced friends who have home schooled say that tears on day 2, and every other day, sounds just about right. Whew.
Tian, meanwhile, has been wallowing in the experience like a pig in warm, stinky mud. Subscribing to the unit method of study, she has made herself a medieval loom out of a cardboard box and, throughout the day, when she has a spare moment or while being read to, she weaves. She also has planned a medieval feast, memorized a minstrel song, and is quite likely planning a jousting tournament on the sly. All the while she is also excelling in her studies, jumping through any hoop thrown before her.
Tehva still indiscriminately punches us and then runs away laughing. Nothing much has changed in her dysfunctional world, except now she can tell us what letter "punch" starts with, and she can read the words "me" and "am".
In spite of Silas's disagreements with the course of his education, we are going to continue on this path for the next year. Thus we are pulling out all the stops and doing whatever educational nonsense strikes our fancy. Or my fancy. Or my and Tian's fancy. No matter what we do, Tehva will haul off and smack us and Silas will cry.
Next post I will attach videos and photos of what we have done this week! We are big home school goobers, even though we are not really enjoying EVERY moment.
Really? Every moment?
We started school on Monday out of boredom. The day before, Tian had ridden more than ten miles on her bike, circling my parents' neighborhood at least five times, admittedly losing count after the fourth lap. Silas had taken whining to a new spine-tingling level of perfection. And Tehva kept indiscriminately punching people, which meant that she was bored.
So I dug out the textbooks, trade books, and curriculum I had meticulously packed in the preceding weeks. I extracted a tiny cache of supplies and lesson plans I had prepared during the early summer and set up shop (or school) in my parents' dining room. Tian did a happy dance, and Silas shrieked with excitement. "All right," I thought. "This is going to rock!"
On Monday we started and the day went like a dream. The experience was truly everything those blogging, home school mommies had promised--close, joyous, (I wouldn't call it intimate), wonderful--it was the perfect teacher and the students finished the day energized by the experience.
Then came Tuesday. Within an hour Silas was under the table, crying, and I was reduced to pulling out all the tricks I had saved up after fifteen years of teaching other people's children. They worked miraculously on my own children but left me shaken and cursing those silly home school mommies. We were not enjoying every minute. Not even every other minute.
This morning (Thursday) school started and then ended just as quickly due to concentration issues from Silas, who leaked tears from the corners of his big, lashy eyes. A break, some outside time, and then an impromptu art lesson all served to bring him back onto the straight and narrow. However, during his language lesson the first sentence he penned was, "I hate homeschooling." (At least he used a pronoun, which was the assignment!)
My more seasoned and experienced friends who have home schooled say that tears on day 2, and every other day, sounds just about right. Whew.
Tian, meanwhile, has been wallowing in the experience like a pig in warm, stinky mud. Subscribing to the unit method of study, she has made herself a medieval loom out of a cardboard box and, throughout the day, when she has a spare moment or while being read to, she weaves. She also has planned a medieval feast, memorized a minstrel song, and is quite likely planning a jousting tournament on the sly. All the while she is also excelling in her studies, jumping through any hoop thrown before her.
Tehva still indiscriminately punches us and then runs away laughing. Nothing much has changed in her dysfunctional world, except now she can tell us what letter "punch" starts with, and she can read the words "me" and "am".
In spite of Silas's disagreements with the course of his education, we are going to continue on this path for the next year. Thus we are pulling out all the stops and doing whatever educational nonsense strikes our fancy. Or my fancy. Or my and Tian's fancy. No matter what we do, Tehva will haul off and smack us and Silas will cry.
Next post I will attach videos and photos of what we have done this week! We are big home school goobers, even though we are not really enjoying EVERY moment.
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