The Pilates Roll Up ... I Did It!

Incremental moments measured through small successes and occasional letdowns. 

After literally months of trying, struggling, agonizing, beating my fists and sometimes even crying in frustration, I was finally able to complete not one, not two, but THREE successive roll ups the day before yesterday.

I was even able to squeeze out a fourth when Kiddo and Smilin' Vic got home that afternoon. 

I can't explain the science behind it, but I can attest to the fact that for the first time I could actually 'feel' my ab muscles, my breathing and my body alignment all connecting, just like my video instructor kept telling me I should.

I can't explain the rush I got when I was actually able to roll up smoothly (fairly) off the ground with my legs straight out and my heels firmly planted on the floor.  It was such a small movement, over in about 8 seconds, but that tiny blip in time encompassed months of effort.  

It wasn't that different from so many life moments.  The birth of a child as the result of years of praying for what you thought you'd never have.  The first kiss that you've imagined for so long.  The conferring of a degree after years of studying.  The completion of an actual 10 km run after years on a treadmill.

You may be thinking that comparing a simple roll up to these life events is a little crazy, and there's merit to that.  But the fact of the matter is that achieving anything you work hard towards, no matter how big or how small, can change your outlook, improve your mood, boost your confidence and generally make life seem that much sweeter. 

I'm a big believer in objectives, big and small.  I think there's value in always having something to work towards, rather than something to run from.  Life is made up of incremental moments measured through small successes and occasional letdowns.  The thing is, if you can find the strength to push through the failures and temporary setbacks, the success at the end becomes all you will have to measure your life by.  

If you've got a goal, don't give up on it.  Keep on keepin' on.  You'll get there. 

I did a pilates roll up! 

 N.B.  Hard as I tried, I couldn't do a proper roll up yesterday.  That's ok.  I'm headed back to my mat to give it another try today.

Sign Me Up for that Reverse Culture Shock Workshop ...

Sting's "Englishman in New York" played on a constant loop in my head for the first few days after I landed in Canada this past June ...

So many things about this "home and native land"* always seem so foreign and/or striking upon returning to my homeland after months in the ME.  

"I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien, I'm an expat in Canada." 

There are the obvious differences:  

• the clash of an abaya-clad lady standing shoulder to shoulder with a granny in a fake tan, stilettos, leggings and a tube top in the Customs line.  
• the welcome being broadcast over the airport PA system in French and English - "Welcome to Montreal", "Bienvenue a Montreal".  Not a single "Marhaba".  
• the absence of 300 listless laborers disembarking a single flight from Sri Lanka with nothing but a plastic grocery bag as a carry-on.

Then there are the more subtle things.

Still no fast-pass for me

One thing that surprised me is that there is now a "National queue" for Canadians at passport control/customs.  In the past, Canada has likely prided itself on political correctness by excluding everyone from fast-tracking customs.  Nonetheless, Pierre-Elliott Trudeau Airport now boasts a "Canadian Residents" line.  

Fat lot of good that does me.  I am a citizen, yes.  A resident, no.  My chances at ever making it into one of those fast-track lanes seem to have been foiled again.  I WANT a fast-pass lane!!!!!!

I wind my way slowly through arrivals with an army of in-transit passengers, vacationers, business travelers and newly landed immigrants.  I show my passport to the customs officer ... He asks me what the purpose of my visit is; I explain that I needed a breath of fresh air, a reconnection with family, a proper fix of Tim Horton's.  Judging by his flat expression and blank stare, my attempt at levity has gotten me exactly nowhere ... some things are actually quite similar no matter where you're traveling to.  

"I'm on vacation", I retract ...  He writes a code on my immigration card.  I can never remember which code will get me directly through the arrivals gate and which will get me frisked.  I find out soon enough that today's code is a pass.  I am off to meet my family!

Porters  ... a thing of the past

But first I must collect my bags ... not a porter in sight. Unlike Doha where there are dozens of porters standing by the luggage belts actually anticipating carrying your luggage with glee.  I WANT a porter!!!!!!

I wait 45 minutes for my bags to come around on the carrousel.  It is about 1.5 hours after landing that I finally get to hug my sister and gulp in as much fresh Canadian air as I can before stepping into the car for the ride downtown.

Pedestrians on sidewalks ... 

I'm coming from a country where sidewalks are for parking and cycling (not the leisurely kind of cycling; the laborer on a banana bike type).  Nary a pedestrian to be seen.  People just don't 'walk' to get around in Doha.  

In downtown Montreal, the sidewalks are teeming with folk of all ages, all walks of life.  Here a teenager jogging in short shorts and a t-shirt; there an elderly couple taking a leisurely stroll; across the street a few smart-dressed professionals having a smoke the obligatory 10m away from the front of an office building.  The bustling, the vivacity, the eclecticism of it all is enough to give me a feeling not that unlike brain-freeze.  It is truly, truly invigorating.

A clear head ... 

You'd think I'd be used to the dust, the stuffy sinuses and the mild yet ever-present cough after seven years in the Land of Sand.  I guess in a way I have become acclimatized to a degree, because as I head out to pound the pavement that first afternoon, the fresh air is like an assault on my system.  I swear, it's almost like I can think more clearly, despite coming off a 13-hour sleepless flight and having been awake for close to twenty hours.  The rush of oxygen to my brain those first few days seems to ward off the jet lag remarkably fast.

Where are all the beads and sequins? 

Even though the national dress in Qatar is the abaya (traditional long black gown worn by women over their clothing when going out in public), many of these are festooned with beads, pearls, embroidery and sequins.  Women who don't wear the abaya tend to wear bright colors, sparkly tops, leopard print skirts and the like.  Montreal, while extremely cosmopolitan, is a much more 'muted eclectic' on the fashion front.  Note that this is not necessarily a bad thing.

Is wearing shoulder blades, bare knees and pierced navels in public actually legal? 

You just can't help it.  No matter how overtly liberal you may consider yourself in the ME, no matter how emancipated and moderate the ME country you are living in may seem compared to others in the region, after a few years as a ME expat you will become overly sensitive to the sight of exposed flesh striding down the street in broad daylight.  Crop tops, tank tops, tube tops, hot pants, barely there skirts and crack-baring jeans are a visual onslaught.  The desensitization only takes a few days, but it the meantime it can be highly disruptive when driving or trying to hold down a conversation.  

Did I actually just pay taxes on picking my nose? 

EVERYTHING is taxed in Canada.  Sometimes the tax is built-in (e.g. for gas), but sometimes it comes as a big fat surprise.  (I know, I know, it's not like I've never lived here before, but it still comes as a shock when you've been away for so long.)  You will be charged a provincial and a federal tax on pretty much everything you purchase, from that takeaway pizza to that early-morning coffee to that trip to the salon.   

I could go on forever:  the assault of green on your senses when you've become acclimatized to beige, the thrill of rain drops replacing dust particles, the sound of church bells ringing in the distance, the surprise and slight discomfort at understanding every single conversation going on around you, etc.  The But my point is simply that cultural adjustment is not a one-way trip.   Just when you think you've got the expat acclimatization halfway sorted out, you realize you will likely one day have to make the return journey and start all over again.

Reverse culture shock 101.  Sign me up now ... 

Below are a few images of some other differences spotted while on our last trip.  Hope you enjoy. 

 *Reference to "Oh, Canada", the Canadian National Anthem. 

Rainbow over Montreal after a downpour.

Blue skies over Qatar.  The sky is usually more beige than blue. 

Decidedly unhealthy "poutine" in Quebec.  (poutine = french fries, gravy and curd cheese).

Getting fish ready for a healthy meal in Doha.

A bottle of water costs about 0.33$ in Qatar.  In Canada it costs as much as a coffee ($1.40 + tax).  You'd never think Canada is listed 3rd on the world's renewable fresh water reserves list.

Stop sign in English and Iroquoi (on the Kahnawake reserve).

Stop sign in French only in Quebec.

Stop sign in Arabic and English in Doha.

Maple Bacon in Canada.  Words truly fail me (this stuff is sinfully delicious).

Bacon in Qatar (yes, we can actually get pork products now, but once this stuff is done it basically just tastes like fried salt).

Cycling in Canada ... (teehee!) 

Cycling in Doha ...

Cost of filling up an RV (3/4) in Canada.  Yikes!!!!!  (gas is about 0.30$/liter in Qatar, it would work out to about 45$ Canadian here.) 

Church steeples in Canada.

Mosque in Doha

Road in the Cape Breton Highlands (Nova Scotia, Canada) 

Road leading from Dukhan to Doha.

Rugged Cabot Trail coastline.  (Nova Scotia, Canada)

Fuwairit coastline.

Warming up to a roaring Canadian campfire!

Chillaxin' by the pool at St. Regis Hotel, Doha

And last, but not least, Canadian Tire money!!!!!  

Still Trying to Learn the Parent Two-Step ...

The country/western two-step, often called the "Texas two-step" or simply the "two-step," is a country/western dance usually danced to country music.

As with other country/western dances, there are different versions of two step. Even the same dance may go by different names depending on the area of the U.S., and even in the particular dance hall. There may be no one "correct" way to do a particular dance.

 From Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia @

Country-Western Two Step

Sometimes the greatest prize for dancing is the sheer enjoyment it brings. 

I've come to believe that parenting isn't that different than dancing really.  Everybody has their own unique style; no two people do it exactly the same.  Some parents just jump onto the dance floor and the moves come naturally.  Some simply have no interest whatsoever.  I think most of us kind of just shuffle at first, but keep on trying to get better at it.  Hopefully the beat kicks in and we all end up a bit more coordinated and graceful by the time the dance is over.

There is a never-ending debate on who's actually getting it right.    The judges will never see eye to eye.  So even though most parents start off trying to learn the basic steps to please the judges, a lot of what comes later ends up being very much an improvised and personal interpretation.  In the end, most people realize that dancing and parenting is not anything they're ever going to get paid or recognized for; you simply have to do it for the sheer love of it and enjoy the simple pleasures it brings.

I'm not a great dancer, but I love to dance.  I'm not a great parent, but I love being a mom.  I don't always get it right.  I fumble a lot.  Sometimes I trip up.  Other times I'm just grooving away, then looking back I realize I was probably completely off-beat.  Even when I'm gliding across the dance floor oblivious to the judges, there is a seed of doubt in my mind that I've missed a beat.

Right now, I'm trying to capture that fluid motion I so appreciate in natural born dancers.  I'm watching Kiddo grow up; it's a new tune for both of us, and we don't yet really get the tempo changes.  We know the mood is changing, but we're not yet really sure how that translates onto the dance floor.  We do know the moves are a lot more complicated.  We know there are a few aerial flips involved, where I actually have to let go of her a bit, and these still require a lot of practice.  We're fumbling a bit. 

The last few weeks, she's been attending a summer sports camp.  She loves the social interaction, and I think she's starting to enjoy the actual "sports" component, but she's facing issues that are new to her.  She's not yet into her groove, and I can't help but think I'm failing as a dance coach. 

The children in her group are all different ages, at all different levels of sporting skill and sportsmanship.  Some are sociable little beings like her, mostly there to make new friends and giggle and have a bit of fun playing dodgeball and swimming.  Others are fully engrossed in the athletics and the activity.  And finally there are a select few natural born competitors, out to prove their prowess both on the floor and off.

It's the latter that are causing the real issue for me as a mom.  I'm really fumbling as I try to figure out how to even step out onto the dance floor.   

You see, Kiddo's been coming home telling me about this particular child who is two years older and "not nice" to her.  Kiddo doesn't get it.  She wants to play with this kid, and can't understand why this kid is constantly pushing her away or ridiculing her.   

I'm so torn.  On the one hand, I tell myself that this is life, and that Kiddo's got to learn to stand up for herself and simply ignore anyone who can't appreciate her.  Better that she get strong now.  So I tell her to play with the friends she's got, stop trying to engage that kid in conversation or play, and simply ignore the kid or anyone else who doesn't treat her right.  I tell myself that teaching her to stand up for herself and to alienate the "bad guys" is responsible parenting on my part.  I tell myself this is how to take to the dance floor like a professional.  I tell myself that she's growing up, she's changing, her world is changing, and she has to find her way.  

Love this song as sung by father-daughter.  Old dance moves aren't that easy to change, but I think it's possible if you try.

But then the novice dancer in me, the kid in me, chimes in.  Whispers in my ear "Is it really about getting the steps right, or is it about feeling the music?"  And that's when I want to burst onto the dance scene with Kiddo.  I fight the urge to bust a move on the 10-year-old bully.  I have to resist challenging her to a dance-off.  Because even though in my mind I could really humiliate her with my amazing mother-daughter dance routine, I think my pre-historic dance moves would probably end up being more of an embarrassment to Kiddo than anything else.

So I stand back; watch Kiddo as she flails her arms at the back of the dodgeball pack, determined to stay away from any incoming balls.  Watch as the other kid tries to goad Kiddo.  Watch Kiddo ignore the kid, just like we talked about.  Watch the other kid poke Kiddo in a further attempt to grab her attention.  Kiddo stands firm, ignoring this kid.  It takes everything to keep me off the dance floor; I have a really good idea where my dancing shoes would lead me, and it's not a good place.  I tell myself this is Kiddo's dance challenge to win or lose.

When the game is over, I walk over to Kiddo.  She's surprised to see I'm still there, but happy.  I tell her I'm proud of her.  Tell her to make sure to let the other kid know not to ever touch her again.  Then I stare the other kid down.

Hard. 

I know what you're thinking.  I'm 43.  The kid is 10.  But I warned you in the beginning: I'm not a great dancer - I'm just trying to get better at it.  I don't know this dance so well, and I'll certainly never be a world-class champion.  But as long as Kiddo never doubts that I'll be there to catch her on that aerial flip, I think we'll do ok.

Some people say this song by Dave Matthews Band is about lovers ... I've always thought about it more as about celebrating the moment and recognizing that change is unavoidable.  It's called Two Step by the way ...

What Really Carries Weight in the ME? (Joining the Global Fight Against Obesity)

Obesity is a constant topic of conversation and concern throughout the world, but increasingly so in the Middle East .  Rare is the day that goes by where regional newspapers do not feature at least one article on the subject.  

Confronting the issue of obesity, heart disease and diabetes is continually at the forefront in this country as well, likely a result of increasingly alarming rates of overweight and obese people within the state (I won't throw any random numbers around, but a simple google search will yield approximate obesity rates for pretty much any country).  

The conditions listed above are explicitly addressed in this country's national health strategy, at regional health conferences, within school curriculums, in urban planning and in the national development strategy.  Qatar has even gone so far as to declare the second Tuesday of February a statutory 'sports' holiday as part of its commitment to create awareness and to provide citizens and residents with opportunities to live healthy and get fit.  I think the country is actually taking some very impressive, concrete and sustainable steps towards providing the education needed to incite this and future generations to healthy living.  

Yet coupled with the awareness initiatives is an increasing trend toward quick fixes to this expanding (pun intended) problem.  Health food stores and "diet shops" are popping up more and more in the ME.  Entire clinics catering exclusively to patients seeking lap band surgery and gastric bypass are not unheard of.  Fast tracks to rapid weight loss that don't really have much to do with embracing the benefits of a healthier lifestyle.

It's not unheard of to find these establishments set up in a strip mall, right next to a popular fast-food outlet, bakery, donut shop or ice cream parlor.  I can't help but wonder at the logic.  It's almost like opening up a chemo center next to a cigar bar.  "Come on in and see us;  we'll try to make you better, but if we fail, you can always pop in next door for your last hoorah!"

A glowing example of the stopgap approach appeared in yesterday's local newspaper, touting an initiative in Dubai to help motivate people to lose weight through the launch of a campaign titled "Your Weight in Gold".  Participants in the campaign who lose a minimum of 2 kg by August 18, 2013 will be compensated with 1 g of gold for each kg lost.  

"Brilliant!"

Or is it?  What possible personal motivation is attached to that gram of gold?  While I applaud the intention, I can't help but think that the carrot at the end of the skinny stick is not enough in this case to get people thinking about what really matters.  

A gram of gold is selling today at about 47$ (US).  In the big scheme of things, I'm convinced that 2kg of "me" is worth more than 95$.  At that rate, my life (as measured by my weight) is barely worth $2,700.  Is that really how we want to go around measuring what matters?   

It got me thinking about the things that really motivate people to make a positive lifestyle change.  For example, recent studies have shown a possible link between weight loss and improved memory in older women.  I'm thinking if I were menopausal, that study would be a pretty good incentive to lose a few lbs.  

For some people, it might be the hope of living a little longer, or a little better.  For others, it might be a chance to practice a sport with their child, or that mountain climb that's been on their bucket list.  It might be simply to stop burping so much, or to ease the pain in that bum knee.  It might be to leave a healthy legacy to their child, or to breathe easier, or to simply feel better about themselves.  

But somehow I doubt it's ever about 95$. 

Hopefully personal motivation will kick in and it's not only silver and gold that will carry weight in the fight to end obesity. 

Sometimes you just have to step away from the fridge ... 

As an aside .... 

I wonder what world health powers would think of my strategy to change food currency to calories and physical activity rather than dollars and cents?  

e.g.  After my diet breakfast and diet lunch, I pop in for a fast food burger and fries.  The conversation that ensues goes something like this:    

Fast Food Server:  That will be 1,400 calories, Mam.    

Me:  But I don't have 1,400 calories left today.  I've already paid 1,200 for lunch and breakfast.

Fast Food Server:  Well, we ARE offering a special on the "Balanced Meal";  it comes in at just under 600 calories.  It's not as trendy, but it's gotten some really good reviews. 

Me:  But I really wanted the "Biggie Biggie Meal".  Can't we come to some sort of agreement? 

Fast Food Server:  Well, you're in luck.  Because we've just started a layaway plan.  I'll get the burger started, and you go back there and sign up with our Calorie Credit Agent.  Talk to him about signing up for the pedometer account.  It's that easy.  You can take up to 8 hours (at a leisurely 5 km/hr pace) to earn that burger, fries and big drink.  As soon as you're done, "Biggie Biggie Meal" is all yours.

I'm thinking I might reconsider a few food choices. 

Sleeping right after a heavy meal can lead to health problems ... why not start making better lifestyle choices now?

July ... The Long Month

July in Qatar seems to drag by so much more slowly than any other month of the year.  

Not because it has 31 days.  Six other months in the year can lay claim to the same.

Not because the daylight hours are that much longer.  Sunset only varies by about 1 hr 20 min throughout the year. 

Not because there is anything exciting and dangerous going on (apparently the brain produces an illusion of time warp in emergency situations).  Nope; everything pretty much slows to a snail's pace in Doha in July. 

So why do I feel like time the days simply drag by?   

I can't be certain, and there's no science behind my assumptions (other than a few Googled observations on temperature), but I tend to believe that the following contribute directly to the illusion of time dilation in July in Doha: 

1. On average it is the hottest month of the year.  Outdoor activities are not only difficult, they can be quite dangerous if you're not sufficiently hydrated.  Daytime temperatures can reach well up into the high 40's (Celsius ... or 104 - 118 F).  While nighttime temperatures may dip slightly, this is when the humidity tends to kick in, often reaching upwards of 84% for three days out of four towards the end of the month.
2. It is preceded by the end of June, which marks Exodus in Doha for expat wives, moms and kids.  All of them wise enough to escape the July 57C (137F) heat index (combined measure of heat and humidity).
3. Kiddo's birthday falls smack dab in the middle of the month ... which leaves us scrambling to gather enough friends to throw a half-decent party.
4. I'm not working outside the home this summer. 
5. This year, the month of Ramadan covered most of July (July 8 - August 7, 2013).  During the Holy Month of Ramadan in Qatar, the following applies:

• No eating or drinking or smoking in public during sunlight hours.
• Restaurants do not open until Iftar (meal served after sunset to break fast during Ramadan).
• Hotel restaurants and venues are totally dry (no alcoholic beverages are served).
• Cinema halls are closed until Iftar.  
• Most entertainment venues (indoor amusement parks, bowling alleys, skating rinks) are closed until after Iftar.
• Residents are asked to pay particular attention to appropriateness of dress and social decorum. 
• Some large grocery chains are open from 9:00 a.m. - midnight, but your usual corner store may be open 9:00 a.m. - noon and 7:00 p.m. - midnight, or 6:00 a.m.- 10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.  Pretty much left to you to figure out.
• Government and most business working hours are cut down to 5 working hours a day.  This makes going anywhere between 9:00 - 10:00 a.m. and 2:00 - 3:00 p.m. virtually impossible, extending a 15-minute drive to an hour or more.   
• Trying to drive anywhere after 6:30 p.m. or so (after evening prayer) becomes an unforgettable lesson in peril and patience.

But while finding a way to pass the days can be a challenge, it can be done.

1. Do your best to socialize, to get outside for a bit, and to enjoy the outdoors where possible.  We've enrolled Kiddo in a sports camp for the month.  The venue allows kids of all ages to socialize and make new friends, practice indoor sports, go for a short daily swim outside, and get creative.  I've met a few moms there and we've arranged to meet up with the kids for playdates, which gets me out of the house as well.  Driving Kiddo to camp and doing groceries and running errands in the morning at least gets me out there.  
2. Catch up on things you've been meaning to get done (I've completed a few organizational projects that I kept on putting aside, and we are catching up on recorded episodes of Jr. Master Chef, America's Got Talent and Come Dine With Me in the evenings).  
3. Focus on staying healthy.  Take advantage of those long afternoons to go to the gym, work out at home, or prepare a new healthy recipe that you've been wanting to try for a while but never got around to. 
4. Find places to go in the evening that aren't too far away, and hire a car if you really don't feel up to fighting the traffic alone.  The streets will get crazy after evening prayer, with many people off to visit friends and family, enjoy an Iftar meal at one of the many Ramadan tents set up for this purpose, head to the mall, or simply "cruise" (unlike us 'unsociables', there are a good deal of people out there who actually enjoy the crowds and the chaos of traffic on the Corniche).  Even though we get frazzled by the intensity of it all, we still try to get out a few times during the month for a meal, a trip to the movies or a visit to some friends.  
5. Go easy on yourself, and allow yourself to enjoy that oft-saught after daytime snooze.  Or just take the opportunity to rest up doing something you love.  Finish that book, do some arts and crafts with the kids, play the piano mid-afternoon.  Just choose one of the things you're always complaining about "not having time to do", and DO it! 

July ... the long month. 

August ... are we there yet????