Sunshine Nights and Frozen Fires

“There , tough spirits ruled

that realm in ages past;

cold, stiffened trolls stand, their bodies turned to stone.  

Few gods live upon the land but no one I know watches still

the ocean wide and blue. “

 

Snæfellsjökull

Sunshine Nights and Frozen Fire

A Saudi Saga

 

Into the heart of slumbering giants 

Stepping over the threshold into a steel cage wasn’t the easiest decision to make. With nothing to prevent me from plummeting but a cable strapped to my harness, I walked across the little bridge that hovered over the open mouth of the volcano and tried not to think about the 120 meter (400 foot) drop below me.  Once inside the little ‘basket’ that would take us deep into the slumbering heart of Thrihnukagigur (meaning the Three Peaks Crater), I peered down through the grid flooring below my feet and saw only abyss staring back. And so, with the whining and humming of metal gears, we began to slowly sink into darkness, stone and ash, leaving the light of day behind.  

It was a tight fit, you had only to stretch your hand out to touch the raw and open-faced earth of Thrihnukagigur, the volcano that erupted some 4,000 years ago and now stands in hollowed silence.  

As we dropped, I examined the rough walls around us, noticing the volcanic stone which was much more colorful and expressive than I had expected it to be, and this was mainly due to the collection of minerals found in the lava that once spewed in maddening outbursts of molten earth that fought its way up from deep within Thrihnukagigur.  Reds, purples, greys, blues, oranges, browns and black were all melted together in an earthly masterpiece of kaleidoscopic swirls and stories of a once violent portrayal of Earth’s incredible explosive power.  

Deeper and deeper, meter by meter, color by color we sank with nothing around us but rainbow stone and passing darkness.  However as we drew closer to the end of our descent, I peered down over the railing and saw a tiny constellation of wandering stars in the distance; it turned out to be people with headlamps exploring the crater (only a certain number of people are permitted into the volcano at a time to prevent crowding and damage to the natural site).  

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It was cold and deep in the belly of the Earth, and our lamps and lights placed to illuminate the dark corners of Thrihnukagigur cast shapes and faces upon the canvas of earth, creating eerie facades and shifting shadows.  Released from our little elevator basket, it was our turn to explore the deep cavernous crater Thrihnukagigur.   

I looped around the area, following the ropes that marked the territories to which we could inspect and photograph, stepping gingerly over the slippery rocky terrain of the volcano when it suddenly hit me, I was inside a volcano that had belted fire and molten rock over 4,000 years ago! Spell-bound by this realization and the rainbow rock lining of Thrihnukagigur, I didn’t realize how cold or damp the site was until I felt the pitter patter of water droplets upon my helmet.  Looking up I saw drops of persistent precipitation revealed in my lamp’s light raining down from the top of the crater, and in the echoing silence, their drops reign supreme.  

How is it possible we are even able to travel down into a beautifully preserved  extinguished crater? A magma chamber is located at the very heart of a volcano, and it is here where molten rock waits and sits, until it angrily surges to the surface and causes a volcanic eruption.  After an explosion, the crater usually closes, and the colder temperatures outside causes it to solidify as hardened lava. Thrihnukagigur however, is a rarity.  

Her magma chamber seems to have disappeared, making her an exception to any other volcano in the world.  It is believed that the magma might have metastasised to the walls, or was simply swallowed back into the depths of the Earth. Whatever the case, we should be grateful, for where else in the world could you travel into the rainbow catacombs of Iceland?

 

 

After exploring the inside of the volcano and marvelling at nature’s mysterious wonder, we squeezed back into the ‘basket’ and rose towards the open blue dot of sky (the ascension through esophagus of Earth wasn’t nearly as daunting as our descent)

IMG_7541 We returned to base camp where we had initially geared up (helmet and harness) and sat down to a mouth-watering bowl of homemade lamb stew, coffee and local stories of the property told by the many guides who run the national park.  

 

 

After warming ourselves in the cozy confines of base camp, we hiked back to our bus.  Layers of clouds had started to move across Iceland’s sunny blue sky, and as we walked along the trail of the moss covered lava-fields, we noticed volcanic ghosts of ancient open-mouthed craters as if frozen in silent screams thousands of years ago.  

Cold Child in the City

Our bus took us back from the park of three craters to the city of Reykjavik.  We walked along the busying Sunday streets of the city, alive with joyous cries of children who were tobogganing down a giant slip and slide right in the middle of the city. How they were not cold was beyond me! I was wearing multiple layers and was still not warm enough (must be my Saudi blood). Reykjavik doesn’t get much warmer than 11 degrees celsius in the summer time.

IMG_6714 Fortunately we had done our homework and packed plenty of winter clothing.

Walking along the electric city awash in eternal sunshine was a wonderful way to get to know a little more of Reykjavik.  Graffiti murals, little carved statues, poems and prose placed for those to find them, these breadcrumbs of culture were a delight to discover, one had only to keep an sharp eye for hidden morsels to be led to more urban delights and hidden messages.

We ate, drank coffee and shopped and explored the many shops that boasted the best lava infused salts, reindeer pelts, pottery, and of course my all time favorite, coffee!  Bellies full and exceptionally caffeinated, we vibrated our way towards the historic Hofdi House that once belonged to one of Iceland’s most celebrated poets, Einar Benediktsson.  

Within the whitewashed walls of this acclaimed establishment, another historical event had taken place.  In 1986, two political titans met, President Ronald Reagan 

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and President Mikhail Gorbachev, to begin the end of the Cold War and to discuss global disarmament. And just beyond the house, another piece of history stood.

A swatch taken from the Iron Curtain herself;  a caricature is painted upon the shred of Curtain,  its eyes filled with painted grief, its thin mouth slightly frowning, standing in haunting silence upon the beautiful blue backdrop of the peaceful blue bay.

Circles of Gold and Glaciers

The next day we woke up early for our long awaited day trip with Super Jeeps to explore the Golden Circle of Iceland (a great way to visit popular sites in Iceland in a single day).  We were  picked up from our hotel in two Defenders with monstrous offroading tires ready to tackle any terrain that Iceland had to offer.  

Anxious and excited, we climbed into our great tanks of adventure and headed towards our first destination, Þingvellir (Thingvellir) National Park.  The very name of the park fittingly translates to Parliament Plains, for that is what you shall see before you; high cliffs, a rift valley, and plains upon which the Althing, an open-air assembly which was  established in 930 that represented all of Iceland, and continued until 1798.  

Inscribed as a UNESCO World Site, Þingvellir holds great historical meaning for the people of Iceland, it also holds many wonderful natural treasures such as the Lake of Thingvallavatn, the iconic Birch Woodlands of Bláskógar (Blue Woods), and local flora and fauna only found in Iceland.  This park is also unique since it straddles the Mid-Atlantic Rift (North American and Eurasian plates).  

After having walked along the rising cliffs and crossing from North America to Europe, we  clambered back into the jeeps and continued our Golden Circle tour.  Next up? The belting geysers of Haukalur.

Amid the geothermal territory of Haukalur, the Earth boils and churns to the surface, trumpeting impressive blasts of boiling water towards the sky.  There are two infamous geysers, Geysir and Strokkur, in fact, the term geyser was named after Geysir (it no longer erupts following an earthquake that put it out of commission).  However it’s much more active companion shoots water up about 100 ft roughly every ten minutes.  

The smell of sulphur is one of the most noticeable things about Iceland, and I am not just talking about the active geothermal areas.  The water you wash your hands in, the water you drink, the hot springs and gurgling geysers are all from the same source.  Underground waters heated from the many active volcanoes.  

The very word Reykjavik means “smoky bay”, alluding to the nearby geothermal activity.  If you were to drive around the city limits, you would notice rising steam and smoke from several areas, including the Orkuveita Reykjavík, Reykjavík’s hot water utility, which is the largest geothermal heating facility in the world.

Not a single drop of this mineral rich water is wasted. The country harnesses the hydropower of Iceland’s high geothermal activity and is used for many things such as heating houses and buildings, geothermal public pools, produces a clean source of  electricity for over half the population of Iceland and much more.   

This renewable power source and ingenious method of harnessing the 

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power of the Earth accounts for over 70% of the country’s total energy consumption.   The smell of sulphur is a reminder of this use (it isn’t was bad as you think).

Geyser gazing done, we ventured on and took detour from the  typical Golden Circle route to go visit Langjökull, Icelandic of “long glacier, and the second largest glacier found in Iceland.  Blackened volcanic roads soon gave way to snow-covered routes, and all around us stood mountains capped in ice and mighty stillness.   

 

How odd it was to be standing upon a glacier, when only several days ago I was baking in the hot sun of Bahrain! We played in the snow, taking pictures and videos of ourselves to send to our sweltering loved ones back home of our wintry escape.  Soon however the Iceland called with more promises of adventure, and with one last glance back across the frozen field of white, we left the summer snows behind.

Back on track with the wonders of the Golden Circle, it was time for our final destinations of our tour: Gullfloss Waterfall, Bruarfoss Waterfall and Grimsnes Volcano. The mighty force of the thundering Gullfoss Waterfall was a humbling sight to behold and there is an area in which you can to stand near the rushing torrents of Gullfloss. I suggest you have a raincoat on since you will quickly be soaked in the rising mist and cold splashes of water as it barrels onward down the river.

Blue Mist and Silica Shores

The next day was dedicated to the famous Blue Lagoon Geothermal Spa.  I will admit I was slightly sceptical about this location, it just sounded like a typical tourist trap, and a part of me wondered if it was as breathtakingly blue and beautiful as people claim it to be.

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We arrived, showered (mandatory before swimming in the Lagoon) and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it truly was as enchanting as people say, and an absolute must if you are visiting Iceland! Eagerly, we waded into the milky blue waters of the Lagoon.  Mist swirled across the top of the mineral-rich waters, which are reputed for healing many with skin condition and irritations thanks to silica and sulphur as cold water began to fall from the grey skies above us.  

Warm, soothing and salty, we swam around the hot waters with white silica shores.  There were different areas in the pool you could enjoy; one section offered free silica masks that you could apply to your skin, and depending on which package you purchase, you can also try their algae mask.  

Having soaked our troubles away (and skin exceptionally soft and glowing) we finally returned to Reykjavik around midnight with the sun following us all the way home to rest for the next day’s adventures.  

Southern Comfort

With only two days left in Iceland we had much to cover. Our fourth day was dedicated to exploring the south, which I was soon delighted to discover, held my most beloved spots I have ever visited and experienced in my life.

The scenery shifted as we drove on.  The grey skies began to lighten to brilliant brush strokes  of blue.  The mountain ranges rose and fell in greens and black of volcanic stone and mosses, with some crowned in ice. Wild Icelandic horses lazily grazed in open fields of sunshine as we sailed past en route to our first destination of black.

The black sand lava beach was as dark as coal with swelling waves of indigo seawater that lapped the mirror shores.  I climbed out of the jeep and walked eagerly towards the beach of black and blue, picking up the unusual colored blackened sand in disbelief and let it run through my fingers to prove itself.  

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Enthralled, I scanned the rest of my surroundings. Weathered remains of a shipwreck lay on its side as if captured forever in its final moments of sinking stupor half-hidden within the black lava sands of the south.

 

We were taken to other sensational sites, including a second beach called the Black Sands of  Reynisfjara Beach, one of the most famous beaches in Iceland.  Upon its seaside sits Reynisfjell, a 340 meter mountain with sharpened hexagonal basalt blades frequented by albatross, fulmars puffins that caw and cry as they glide upon the rising winds.  

 

Past the waves there also lies two basalt formations that rise from the ocean in stony defiance.  One resembles a pyramid while the other, a sharpened spear. Icelandic legends say that there were once two trolls who had attempted to pull a three-mast ship to shore, however they were caught in sunlight and turned to stone. Their failure frozen for eager spectators and tourists to admire and capture with their cameras.

Yet, one must also be cautious when visiting this beach, for although beautiful, it can be formidable and unforgiving.  

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They are called ‘Sneaker’ waves, and they have claimed the lives of several unsuspecting tourists who sadly ventured too close to the shore.  The waves of Reynisfjara have a way of suddenly rising, turning violent as they grasp and grope for unsuspecting tourists unfortunate enough to be in the wave’s deadly reach, pulling them out to sea to meet their watery end.  

With one call from our guide it was time to go, and we left one of the most memorable sites I have ever had the privilege to visit.  

Chasing Waterfalls

Before continuing on to more incredible sites, it was time to eat and warm up from the powerful cold winds of the beaches. We sat down for a quick lunch of fresh Arctic Char, tender lamb (best lamb I have ever tasted) and coffee as we gazed upon our next site that awaited us: Skogafoss Waterfall. At 60 meters high with a width of 25 meters, it is one of the largest and most monumental waterfalls in Iceland.  

Eyes to its flowing apex, we approached in awe and walked along the stream into the hazy bottom of the waterfall (make sure you wear a shell over your clothes when visiting this site, because you practically shower in the waterfall).  As we stood and captured pictures of the waterfall and of ourselves, a collection of rainbows appeared and disappeared as the sunshine sporadically broke through the waterfall’s mist.   

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We visited several more waterfalls during our tour, and one that particularly struck me was the final waterfall, Seljalandsfoss Waterfall, considered to be an iconic natural wonder of Iceland.  Born from the Seljalands River which is fed from volcanic glacier, Eyjafjallajökull, this waterfall is especially worth visiting since you can walk behind it into a small cave and peer through its roaring falls upon the world.

The sunshine night brought our final adventures of southern Iceland to a close, and there was nothing left to do but fill our empty bellies with a delicious meal of lamb stew and reindeer and laugh and reminisce about all that which we saw, tasted and felt.

Summer Thaw

I ventured its streets and descended into its belly of frozen fire. I laughed in the thundering presence of its waterfalls that showered me in mist and cold. I walked across a glacier of snow and ice. I bathed in its Blue healing waters, and forgot the dark of nighttime sky.  And upon its churning blackened shores of sea and ash, I left my footprints which turned into little pools upon Iceland.  I was there, if only for a moment.

 

Other

Please check the box of which applies,

the one that captures you, or at least tries

Please pick your sex, race and role,

Or at least something close, and continue to scroll.

Which one applies closest to you?

White, black or brown, to name just a few.

Neither you say? Well then just relent.

For you do not fit our generic convent.

So why bother at all, an ‘other’ you’ll be.

You cannot be an I, you must fit the ‘we’.

Other they call me,

Another it is!

I wear my crown of ‘other’ like it’s my sole biz.

One of honor, of character and of right.

I reign over the land of misfits with entitled delight.

Our clan is of rebels, jests and of laughs.

Where we dabble in ‘other’ sorts of trickery and crafts.

King of others is who I am

Box-less.

Nameless.

Loud.

Shameless.

Mixed blood of two worlds,

Of East and of West.

Born to stand out, among the routine rest.

So please pick your liking in the boxes below,

Are you of character, or lacking of soul?

For neither you nor I are a box you see,

We are the ‘other’

The unorthodox,

The free.

I’ll See You at the Finnish Line

Helsinki 11The city smelled of coffee and the sea, and the streets were crowded with schools of tourists swimming through the sites and pleasures Helsinki had to offer. On many corners, local musicians added to the cacophony of the urban heartbeat that thumped to the steady sounds of the city.  Gulls cried overhead, riding the soft summer breeze that swept through the parks and shopping centers.  Upon my first day I was already taken with Helsinki, it had its own flavor and flare unique to any other Nordic city I had visited so far. It seemed to be playfully withholding a secret from me, one which it promised to reveal but not until it was sure enough to trust me with.

Helsinki 6Helsinki 1

Located in the heart of the city at the Hotel Kamp, my sister, father and I ventured out waiting for the remainder of the Al-Yafi tribe to arrive. It was a hot summer day and I looked over at my sister with fevered skepticism grumbling, “I thought you said it was going to be cold in Helsinki, and here I am wearing a sweater and jeans!”  She shrugged and reminded me that we warned of Finland’s temperamental temperatures.  I had foolishly packed mostly winter clothes and cursed myself for not being better prepared. How was I to know that it would be almost as hot as Jeddah, from where we had just arrived.

We made our way to the harbor where a local farmer’s market was taking place. Stalls of fresh Helsinki berries and vegetables were put on display, their sweet aromas were intoxicating and I found myself immediately drawn to one of the stands to sample the local cuisine.  I gorged myself on “samples” of plump strawberries and blueberries and soon my smiling lips were painted red and blue. The pretty blonde lady then handed me some fresh snap peas, or what I assumed were snap peas, which I gratefully accepted.  As I bit into the deceiving delight, I found it to be chewy and mildly unpleasant.  I then asked the lady quizzically, “am I supposed to eat the whole thing or just the peas inside?” she answered nonchalantly, “no, just the peas inside.” I stopped chewing and felt like a fool for not asking and reluctantly swallowed my failure and shame.

Helsinki 8Helsinki 10

Moving on past my mishap I continued to make my way through the market to see what the local scene of Helsinki had to offer.  It had a kaleidoscopic array of handicrafts from reindeer skins to amber necklaces, all of which embodied Finland’s wildness and natural beauty.  My senses were overwhelmed with the colors and textures of funny woven hats, wooden cups and kitchenware carved from trees found in the lush forests surrounding the city.  It was all so deliciously overwhelming and I lost myself in the blur of sightseers and kiosks boasting the best of local arts and crafts.

Helsinki 3

As he played the rain came down around us. His tinkering bottle bell tunes were joined by the drops dancing down the Finnish sky.

Once my brother and mother joined us we were truly ready to set out and discover Helsinki. Every morning, fueled with coffee and local berries that I would smuggle into breakfast, we set out to cover the cobbled stone streets of the city.  In order to cover as much ground as possible we booked things like a two-hour walking tour to visit the city’s most noteworthy spots.  The day of our walking tour was cold and rainy, again with this unpredictable weather, I thought. Luckily I was beginning to understand that in order to survive hours of walking around you would just have to carry around a sweater and umbrella and have on very comfortable walking shoes that you don’t mind getting muddied and wet from time to time when the sun suddenly decided to escape behind a flurry of rainclouds. And so we climbed the steep steps of the Senate Square to find our guide as the rain came down. Along with the falling rain, came doubt, maybe this tour in wintery wet weather was a mistake, but I soldiered on and followed my tribe.  We eventually made it and found our guide along with our fellow foreigners who shared my look of dampened skepticism.  Our chaperon was a sweet looking young lady wearing a silly hat with reindeer antlers who turned out to be Italian, not Finnish. My doubt deepened. So there we were, a tribe of tourists led by an Italian woman wearing a green hat with antlers comically sticking out from the top ready to set out and explore the wet city of Helsinki.

Once my brother and mother joined us we were truly ready to set out and discover Helsinki. Every morning, fueled with coffee and local berries that I would smuggle into breakfast, we set out to cover the cobbled stone streets of the city.  In order to cover as much ground as possible we booked things like a two-hour walking tour to visit the city’s most noteworthy spots.  The day of our walking tour was cold and rainy, again with this unpredictable weather, I thought. Luckily I was beginning to understand that in order to survive hours of walking around you would just have to carry around a sweater and umbrella and have on very comfortable walking shoes that you don’t mind getting muddied and wet from time to time when the sun suddenly decided to escape behind a flurry of rainclouds. And so we climbed the steep steps of the Senate Square to find our guide as the rain came down. Along with the falling rain, came doubt, maybe this tour in wintery wet weather was a mistake, but I soldiered on and followed my tribe.  We eventually made it and found our guide along with our fellow foreigners who shared my look of dampened skepticism.  Our chaperon was a sweet looking young lady wearing a silly hat with reindeer antlers who turned out to be Italian, not Finnish. My doubt deepened. So there we were, a tribe of tourists led by an Italian woman wearing a green hat with antlers comically sticking out from the top ready to set out and explore the wet city of Helsinki.

Helsinki 6

Once my brother and mother joined us we were truly ready to set out and discover Helsinki. Every morning, fueled with coffee and local berries that I would smuggle into breakfast, we set out to cover the cobbled stone streets of the city.  In order to cover as much ground as possible we booked things like a two-hour walking tour to visit the city’s most noteworthy spots.  The day of our walking tour was cold and rainy, again with this unpredictable weather, I thought. Luckily I was beginning to understand that in order to survive hours of walking around you would just have to carry around a sweater and umbrella and have on very comfortable walking shoes that you don’t mind getting muddied and wet from time to time when the sun suddenly decided to escape behind a flurry of rainclouds. And so we climbed the steep steps of the Senate Square to find our guide as the rain came down. Along with the falling rain, came doubt, maybe this tour in wintery wet weather was a mistake, but I soldiered on and followed my tribe.  We eventually made it and found our guide along with our fellow foreigners who shared my look of dampened skepticism.  Our chaperon was a sweet looking young lady wearing a silly hat with reindeer antlers who turned out to be Italian, not Finnish. My doubt deepened. So there we were, a tribe of tourists led by an Italian woman wearing a green hat with antlers comically sticking out from the top ready to set out and explore the wet city of Helsinki.

Helsinki 9We snaked our way through the streets, stopping to take selfies and “ooh” and “aahh” at the beautiful architecture of churches, buildings and landmarks.  Eventually, and without fail, the weather changed and the sun blossomed through the darkened rainy sky casting beams of sunlight fingers that stretched across the urban sprawl as if arising from sleep.  My favorite area we visited was without a doubt was the world famous Temppeliaukio Rock Church.  Carved into solid rock and crowned with a copper dome, it was a testament to the uniqueness of Finnish design.  As we entered the cool earthly place of worship, the sound of piano and jostling tourists greeted us.  Pews of dark rich mahogany faced the source of music and my eyes swallowed the scene around me.  The raw face of stone looked back at us along with mighty organ pipes that stood in a line against the wall as if they were sentinels guarding the cavern.  Sunlight spilled into the dimmed church through slanted windows overhead as tourists sat and watched, mesmerized by the grandness and splendor of this unorthodox place of worship.

Tallinn, Estonia was on next on our to-do list. We arose early on a Saturday morning, coffee in hand of course (Finnish are the largest consumers of coffee in Europe drinking as much as 12 kilograms of coffee per capita yearly), and headed towards the harbor where the ship awaited.  It was a quick two-hour entertaining affair, quickened by an eager Estonian hostess who was adamant about feeding us during our brief seafaring endeavor.   A hop, skip and a ferryboat ride later we arrived in Tallinn harbor where the city awaited us.  The first to welcome us were the great grey steps of Linnahall, a looming concrete symbol of the city’s past SSR life and was covered in graffiti and memory that led to the city where Old Town Tallinn, a stark contrast to the former Soviet structure, awaited.  It was like venturing into the Middle Ages, what with its uneven cobblestone narrow winding roads and castle-like structures, most of which was awash in the sunlight making the town even more fantastical.  We explored the city and its many churches and ‘ye old’ buildings that still stayed true to ancient European designs.  My family and I, being a tall group of Al-Yafis, found that we had to duck our heads down from time to time inside a number of these old buildings (people were clearly a lot smaller back then).  By the end of our day trip, the sun began to become listless and quietly vanished behind a storm of clouds heavy with the threat of rain.  It was time to return to Helsinki.

Helsinki 4

My brother and I during one of our adventures suddenly caught in the summer rain

One of the best ways to really enjoy Helsinki, or any Scandinavian city for that matter, is taking a nice long bike ride.  Not only is it time efficient, fun and healthy, but you get to experience a very local activity, since many people who live in the city use bikes as a form of public transport.  My brother and I have always made it a point to go biking in any Nordic city or region we visit and it is definitely one of my most cherished traditions. He being an avid rider, usually leads the way, and I, like his little shadow, follow him around mimicking his hand signals to alert those around us if we are stopping or turning left.  On our last day we borrowed two bikes from the hotel and embarked on our adventure together.  The hotel was located at the heart of the city so we headed down the main artery towards the park nestled by crystal blue lake.  Skimming through the streets, sometimes joined by other bikers, Helsinki had finally told me her secret.  She was a place where you could truly be yourself without worry of being judged or looked at sideways. A city where art is embraced and ego is unwelcomed, a place that honors the slow life and a laisse faire attitude, encouraging you to stop and enjoy the little fruits of life before they spoil.  This was the secret of Helsinki, humbling and silent.

Helsinki 7

600 hollowed steel pipes welded together like a silver chorus gazing heaven bound towards the sky that capture the wind to sing

After four days of hastened tours and crammed sightseeing, my tribe and I decided to shift into first gear and take a break from the holiday.  For some, the thought of a family vacation can seem like the complete opposite of a holiday, what with chaos of closeness and relentless bickering, there are moments of absolute joy and love that reinforce the bond of blood. I experienced such a moment in Sibelius Park on our last day when my tribe and I went to pay tribute to the Finnish violinists and composer, Jean Sibelius.  At the heart of the park, by the sun-catching blue crystal waters of the lake, stands the Sibelius Monument, 600 hollowed steel pipes welded together like a silver chorus gazing heaven bound towards the sky that capture the wind to sing.  Tourists flock here like a hive of hungry bees to the monumental flower hidden away in the Sibelius Park, and we were there to collect as much memorable nectar as possible as well.  Once we had had our fill of photos, we ventured just a short distance away to a cozy little cottage by the shoreline that had been converted into a café that sold mouth-watering cinnamon pastries.  Five coffees and three pastries later, we congregated around a small table overlooking the park, reflecting on our trip and everything we had experienced, seen and tasted.  Although I hold many memories of the trip close to my heart, this is by far the best one yet—sitting with my


The Misfit Clan

Being accepted is one of the most humanly based desires out there, we fight every day to find our tribe and niche that provides that warm delicious feeling of acceptance and home. For me personally, it has been a hell of a quest figuring out where I belong and how I can mold myself into fitting into societies image of normalcy, yet I have tragically learned that the more I attempt and struggle to look “normal”,  the more  I stand out.  Tonight I had an interesting discussion with a Crossfit coach here in Bahrain. I had just walked out of the box and found him sitting on a bench talking to a member, my original plan was to walk over, talk about the WOD and leave, however we quickly began discussing the challenging world of misfitville and how challenging life can be when you don’t quite fit into societies standard definition of what is normal. I have always stood out, I’m a tall blonde with a faux hawk pixie haircut,and can be somewhat obnoxious at times, and I love who I am. Before my self love, I hated who I was, and still struggle with myself sometimes (who doesn’t?).  For instance I always used to slouch in order to be shorter since most of my girlfriends in Bahrain are petite, I felt so gigantic and bulky around them, and it wasn’t until I moved to Texas that my posture slowly improved and I came to terms with my height.  Now I stand tall and proud, but once and a while that awkward feeling will arise and I have to work extremely hard to douse any flames of shame before it spreads like wild fire.

As the warm summer night wore on, I discovered that the young coach is a full blooded Bahraini, and you would not assume, at least I didn’t, that he considered himself a misfit.  At first I laughed at his self-belief, and patronizingly questioned his misfit proclamation. How could he feel different? He fit the Bahraini standard perfectly. Eventually though I discovered that my fellow Crossfitter was also a Misfitter.

So how did I come to this realization? Well, it all began with our discussion about my plans for the future after I finish my master’s in January. I confessed that I did not know if I wanted to come back to Bahrain since I felt like I never truly belonged here, especially after living in Austin for seven years.  I told him that sometimes I hated being different and thought that life would be so much easier if I was a full blooded Saudi or American, not one of each.  As I continued to dig deeper into a hole of fear and pointless worry, I uncovered a surprising and extremely reassuring treasure, even he, a true Bahraini from a huge and well known family, did not feel like he belonged.  At that moment I found comfort, my misgivings were simply born from my own self-doubt, and that just because I am a half Saudi American who was brought up in Bahrain, does not mean that I am alone and that even misfits can come from two parents of the same country of origin.

Although I feel lonely from time to time and wonder if I will ever find the holy grail of acceptance, I am beginning to realize that I do belong to a tribe, the Clan of Misfits.   We wonder adrift in a sea of standards, and soon find that our differences are in fact our bonds that forge unbreakable relationships and transcend any cultural barriers that many will never cross.