She's Here....

Christmas came early for me.

She is here. She is hammered. She is relieved, and full of stories.

We could not be happier. It has been a long time coming.

The Maid Saga

Sarita with Axel's friend Brad at the KTM airport in March

At first, we thought Sarita (our Nepali maid) could join us when we moved to Qatar. Everyone we spoke to said it was not going to be a problem. She could arrive with a tourist visa and later be sponsored by us. Easy.

Wrong.

We stayed in Nepal for an extra week in hopes that the special people in government would grant her a visa. We realized it wasn't going to happen and we left the following day to Qatar in hopes that we could take care of her visa in Doha. Two weeks, tops.

Nope.

Weeks and months passed and we were constantly told that everything could be done for Sarita after my visa was granted. After I received my visa it was going to be so simple.

Yeah, right.

Three weeks ago I went through the final stages of my visa (blood samples and chest X-rays). It was all completed and they were quickly moving on getting Sarita's paperwork done. Surely after this, it was only a matter of days.

Um, no.

Nepali maids are rare here. There are about 200K Nepali males working in Qatar, but it is unusual to meet a Nepali woman. Chances were slim that she would have been approved, but 5 days ago we received word that her visa was ready to go. It was just a matter of getting her here.

Try again.

Axel and I were so ready for her to arrive. We had been paying her to insure her commitment to us and sending her on various errands for us. She would call frequently telling us that she was bored and couldn't wait to get here. We bought her a ticket from Kathmandu to Doha only 5 hours on a plane and she would be here.

Yeah, not really.

Hours before her flight, someone called from Nepal to tell us that we needed special paperwork for her to exit the country. Not for Doha, but for Nepal. They advised us to go to the Nepali Embassy in Doha and fill out the paperwork. It was going to take several more weeks at the very least. We raced to the embassy because a long holiday was about to begin. We had only a few hours before the Embassy was closed for over a week.

Luckily, we arrived before they closed and Axel spoke with the Secretary to the Ambassador. Axel explained his situation and the Secretary said, 'Look, there is no way to get her out of Nepal as a single maid. You will have to fill out a ton of paperwork, it will take a long time, and in the end, she will still not be able to leave. Instead, have her go through India. That is the only way to get her out. It is fast and easy and everyone does it.' Thank goodness. Now all we needed to do was buy her a ticket via Delhi. It was going to be an extensive and painful trip with long layovers but at least she could get out.

Not this time.

Sarita boarded a plane headed for Delhi on Friday afternoon. She had a long layover (9 hours or so) and then it was a short flight to Doha. Easy. She was planned to arrive at 7am Saturday morning. Our family was so excited. This long, excruciating process was finally going to be over.

Until, 3am Saturday morning when we received the call.

Sarita presented her papers to the Indian customs and because her Qatari visa added an extra number to her recorded passport number, they denied her. When we got the phone call from her at the airport, we both went white and felt completely sick to our stomachs. I couldn't fly to Delhi to get Sarita because every American/Canadian needed a visa to enter India. I couldn't book her a flight back to KTM because it was 3am and everything was closed. She had very little money and no phone. I had never felt so hopeless in all my life. The only option Axel and I had was to pray for her and hope that a solution would come to us--and quick.

Axel immediately (4am) went to the Doha airport to tell them of their mistake but because it was a big Muslim holiday, there was nothing open. We couldn't wire her money until everything opened. So there she sat.

After 5 hours of brainstorming and phone calls, Axel remembered he had an Indian friend who lived in Kuwait and maybe he would know someone in Delhi who could give her a place to sleep and eat. As Axel began talking, he found out that his friend was actually in Delhi at that moment and he was more than willing to help Sarita out. He went to the airport, found Sarita, and took her to his beautiful home and introduced her to his family and his Nepali maid. After we heard that, Axel and I could sleep and eat again. Until that point, we were both in shock.

Tomorrow morning the Department of Interior is supposed to be open and we will make them aware of their ridiculous mistake. All of this because of a typo. It is hard not having a particular individual to blame. Instead, we need to move on and once we get everything cleared, she will be on the next plane.

In Sh'allah.

T-day

It is great to have a Mormon community in every country we live. Even if I forget that it is November (let alone Thanksgiving) I have a dinner appointment that requires me to just show up with my family and a bean casserole. Easy peezy.

On T-day I slaved away in the kitchen so I could have the perfect dish. It was my first attempt, but I was determined to add enough cream, cheese, and butter to mask any imperfection. 10 minutes before we were to leave, it was done. I put tinfoil over the pan and placed the dish on the floor because it was still burning hot as I was putting shoes on Asa.

Do ya see where this is going????

Within 2 minutes, Xavier's wiggling and jumping landed him right on the only ticket I had to enter the party. A few happy words were spoken and then a rational Axel smoothed out the mess, poured some cheese on the top, and tried to convince me it was adequate.

Luckily, there were plenty of people at the dinner, and I was sneaky enough when I dropped the dish off that no one knew the heap of cheese and beans was mine. But even if they did, it was really not so bad. My strategy worked. Enough butter, cream, and cheese can mask anything. Especially on Thanksgiving.

Rain, Rain Come and Stay

I don't know why I keep ending up in the desert. Every time I say it is my last, I am redirected to sand and heat. Both things I. do. not. like. I remember when I was living in Arizona for graduate school. I was thirsting so badly for some sign of rain. Water is life, and at that time, I felt dead. It could have also been the combo of two full-time jobs, night classes, and pregnancy. But still.

At that time, I was so desperate I checked out a rainforest CD just so I could hear the tinkle of rain in my home. It was shocking how that sound lifted my spirits and made me feel like life was still worth living. There is something psychologically damaging when you live in a place that--if not for manmade machines and iceboxes--would cause you to shrivel up and drift away.

And yet, here I am.

BUT, a miracle occurred a couple of days ago. I was in my kitchen and the sky became dark. Half the neighborhood came outside to witness the phenomenon. It was shocking. Emotions were high. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Within 40 minutes we had a 5 minute spit from the sky. There was running and screaming from all the kids on the streets, and by the time they ran from one side of the street to the other, it was over. It was still the best 5 minutes of the day.

Now, on to blaring A/Cs and sunglasses...

Ugh.

My Favorite Corner

So far, this place makes me happy.

More to come...

Budding Picasso

Yesterday Asa came running to me in the kitchen.  He repeatedly said 'see, see, see' and proceeded with a hand gesture to make me follow him.  A first.  I followed him and he pointed to the wall and said 'beuful, beuful'.  A first.  His artwork was all over the white wall in our dining room.  A first.  

In response, I grabbed him and beamed with pride.  It was the cutest thing I have ever seen.  I must be a seasoned mother.  

 

Which ultimately reminded me of my other children and their experiences drawing on walls.  This time, my response?  

A first.  

Axel's Presence

Do you see my husband in this picture?  Hint: He is 1/2 inch thick, black, and sometimes hard to hear. 

Even though Axel is usually in another country, he is always present for our scripture reading/family meeting every morning.   I am learning more and more how to carry on a long distance relationship with my hubby.  Here are some notes:

1. Act excited to talk to him even if you are in the middle of changing a poop, or cleaning up puke.  It is good to have a diversion.    

2. If you reprimanding a child, feel free to tell him that you are 'in a meeting'.  It's only fair.    

3. For quick responses, SMS is better.

4. The threat of, 'I am going to call your father' is far stronger when he is away than if he was coming home in an hour.  

5. You always look hotter to your husband when he is away from you for a few days.   It's really good for my self esteem.  

6. Total control of the television.

7. Productivity and cleanliness always increases. 

8. Long stories need to wait until you see him face to face.  It makes date nights full of conversation.

9. Expect him two hours later than he says he will be home.  That way you can be excited if he shows up and not disappointed if he is late.  

10. Know that the situation isn't ideal, but make the best of it.  It can't last forever, right?  Right?  Right?   Right?

Stake Conference

Another perk of compound living?

Stake conference without those hard, cold metal chairs.

Oh, and kids upstairs playing with toys.

Compound Baby

Do you see the cuteness? Warm fuzzies everywhere.

I am still trying to get used to compound living. The communal feeling here is unlike anything I have ever experienced. Neighbors are constantly on the street chatting, people are always looking out for my children's safety and well being, and meals are continually delivered to each other's home. It is such a warm environment and I know I can handle this kind of living while Axel is always out of the country. It is the perfect scenario for our lives at this time.

We recently had a baby born at our compound and the welcome could not have been warmer. Denise (AKA Compound Queen) organized and delivered the sweetest baby shower. The room was draped with adorable girly ornaments and the lunch would rival any international cuisine buffet. It was an excellent reprieve while one of the compound nannies watched our children next door.

I still feel like I am cheating the true international life. This type of living is a joke. I have warm showers, continual electricity, and friends living 30 seconds away. What more could one want?

A Stinky Arrival

If you can believe it, I am still trying to uncover my life since it arrived last week.  It has been interesting to see a) All the fun things we bought in Nepal and how it fits in our new Middle Eastern home. b) How stinky and black everything is.  Not only did everything have Nepali stank and diesel residue from our generator, but it also arrived moldy and wet.  Our house still smells like mold despite my many candle and incense burning efforts.  As a result, I have been trying to wash everything that fits in a washing machine. 

My maid's room/laundry room.  I prefer less laundry and more maids. (sigh)

I was also amazed at the condition of our clothing. What appeared to be acceptable in Nepal no longer looks acceptable in an extremely clean country like Qatar.  It doesn't even pass for play clothes. Outside. Playing with paint. In the mud.  In a Nepali river.    

On top of the 10 loads of laundry per day, I have also been trying to make sense of this mess: 

A photo of our landing, because I have no shame

Forgive me for not being a faithful blogger, but I must organize the safety hazard that is my home.  

This Is It Qatari Style

Last night Axel and I were able to enlist one of the babysitters in the compound to watch our children while we scoped out the new cinema in town.  We are moving up in the world in Qatar.  They are supposed to even have and IMAX 3-D within the next month.  We have come a long way since Nepal.

We saw This Is It and loved it.  Nothing makes you feel more like a child of the '80s than Michael Jackson music.  I realized how much of Michael Jackson was part of my life.  Each song sparked specific memories of my childhood and somehow I felt like I had a personal relationship with him.  What is incredible to me is that millions of people feel the same way, and yet, I don't think he had a very personal relationship with many people at all.  You could tell that he really was lonely on the top.  His only comfort zone was the stage and he seemed socially stunted otherwise.  The man was a machine.  A skinny, freaky, quiet, and talented machine.  Go see it and relive some of your '80s memories.  

The movie also had to have a Middle Eastern touch.  Every time Michael would touch his crotch, we saw a big, black marker line across the screen.  It made it easy to count how many times it appeared in the movie.  Only thrice.  Not bad for MJ.  

A Month of Sheer Celebration

Do you see how much time was put into this party?  Order pizzas, buy balloons, book the pool-done.

As if moving to another country, buying a car, finding a house, searching for schools, and dealing with the several meltdowns that coinside with all these fun activities weren't enough, October just happens to be the month of birthdays in the Bromley household.  Did I mention I still don't have a maid or a driver and my husband is gone 4 days out of the week?  Just wondering if you knew that, cause I do.   

I was inclined to just close my eyes and pretend the births of my children didn't happen this month like I have done in the past, but my kids are now at the age where they actually know when their birthday is.  I tried to be tricky, but it just didn't work.  I was suckered and there was no escape. 

At first, I just had a family gathering at home.  Xavier made his cake. Xavier made his pizza.  And Xavier bought his own present.  The next day, Heavah did the same.  I believe in independent children.  

Because of the guilt, I decided to bring cakes to their school.  

Then I realized that this was the first time my children had true friends.  How could I deny them an opportunity to have a birthday party?  Last year we invited a bunch of kids from school that my children barely knew or really didn't like.  It was mayhem and I knew if we were going to do it, it would have to be low key.  

I decided to do another party.  Ugh.  Living in a compound made this process very handy.  We sent around some invitations to 13 or so kids around the neighborhood and told them to meet us at the pool.  We made a lame cake, bought some cheap Chinese party favors, and put Axel and a poor 9 month pregnant neighbor to work on the face panting, and claimed it was a party.  

The stillest I have ever seen Sedona sit

One more down...

Halloween 2009

All Halloween costumes should be this easy

We have overdosed on the Halloween spirit. We have never celebrated Halloween harder--ever. The kids had one celebration after another. How many costumes can one mom borrow? Apparently a lot when your kids can't choose what they want to be. Thank goodness for good friends and neighbors:

We had preschool parties, school parties, after-school parties, craft parties and neighborhood parties. I could barely keep up. Then again, the party always trumped unpacking. I would much rather make a scary treat to share in my disaster of a kitchen than to figure out where the next whatchamacall it is going to be placed.

Could the timing be any worse? Now that Halloween is finally over I must return to the 250th box. Honestly, I would much rather do this:

Happy Halloween to one and all!