Pre-challenge...or What the heck is she thinking?

On September 6, 2012 I stood on a rooftop in Saada and looked over the neighborhood. Everything was white or beige or brown. I shuddered. I'd just arrived from India, where I spent a lot of time in 2012.  When I wasn't in India, I thought about India. Thanks to India, I lost over 20 kilos, did yoga twice a day, and walked daily for 6km...or about 3 miles. Now? Nothing. All I could do was sit, scared and alone, and wait for school to start. I couldn't bring myself to walk the neighborhood, swathed in black from head to toe, incinerating in the heat. I was broke and deeply unhappy.

In June, 2012, I submitted several applications to teach overseas. Some to Saudi, a few to Turkey, and one to Oman. I never would have considered Oman, except my brother said it was a good place, ruled by a "cool Sultan." What I really wanted was a job offer in Istanbul. I've been enamored with that city for years. I've never seen it, never been there, but it called to me. I got an interview with a company there immediately, and a job offer followed right away. I never did hear from anyplace in Saudi, and Oman? Forgot I applied there. I accepted the job offer in Istanbul, booked a flight to return to Kerala, and got the heck out of Maine. I'd been helping take care of my grandmother for two years, and it was time for someone else to do it. Before I left for the airport, I crawled on the bed and held her hand. "Thank you for all you done for me," she said. I kissed her, and I was gone. She died in February 2014, far from the home she lived in for 75 years, with the only daughter still willing to look after her holding her hand.

While I sat in India, eating bananas and cookies, doing yoga, and napping on the balcony of my hotel room, my brother was campaigning for me to turn down the Istanbul offer and wait for Oman. "It's Ramadan, Felicia...nothing happens during Ramadan. Just wait." He was more than persistent..he was adamant. "It's a bad deal, Flea. You will end up in another crap situation, and your life will not be any better than it was in Maine. Wait for Oman." I finally turned down the job in Istanbul at the eleventh hour, told my brother if I didn't get the Oman job he was paying my flight out and supporting me until I did find work, and had a quiet nervous breakdown. Three days later I was in Salalah.

I should have started this blog a long time ago. You might have followed me as I figured out what it felt like to be an American Muslim (convert) here in the Gulf, particularly this part of Oman. You certainly would have experienced me falling in love with the man I married a year ago. You would have seen me move from being scared and alone to social butterfly. But I didn't start that blog.  I was always worried that my observations were going to offend, and navigating that was just too overwhelming.

But I can bake cake. Sometimes I bake great cakes. Sometimes they are absolute crap. I can also talk about my home now without worrying so much, complete with pictures. The challenge starts November 1st. A cake a day for a year, no matter what. How I will manage this, God only knows.

My Aunt Susan holding Dot the Great's hand near the end. See you on the other side Gram!