I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!

PART II

So when I left off my last blog I had waved down Martin and Julie in the parking lot of the Bahrain F1 race track.  The parking lot is sandy (of course), and as I waved to them both I started hacking away uncontrollably.  Julie Pearson had warned me that the sand/dust is very fine and that last year a number of runners complained that they could hardly breathe after their run.  Count me as one of those!  I was yacking like a sick dog, hardly able to stand on my now throbbing legs. 

When I recovered from my first heavyweight hack-bout I realized that Martin and Julie hadn't heard me because my voice was barely audible with all the sand in my throat.  I chased them down, albeit very slowly on my recovering legs.

"Hey, there you are Matt.  How was the run?"

"Glad it's ov...HUUUYYAACKKKKK...HUGGGH.....HUUUUUUUGGGGK....HUYAK...er.  Boy that sand is really HUUYYAACKKK."

"Oh Matt, I knew the sand would be bad..." Julie looks nervous about her leg.

"Well it's 10:50, so let's head back to the house and then drive out this afternoon for our legs ok?"

I was all game for that.  We climbed into their car and started to head back to Seef, where the Pearson's live.  On the way out Martin commented, "How did Ali look when you handed over the baton?"

"He actually looked....HUYYAACCKKK...a little nervous.  Like this was something he wished he hadn't signed-up for a few m...HUGGHHAACK..onths ago."

"We need to cheer him on don't we?" (rhetorical question from Martin).  We all agreed and Martin started to slow down as we drove along the main entrance road to the F1 track, where Ali would be running.  "You know I saw the guy who is taking on Leg 3, after Ali.  He was wearing jeans and a head scarf.  We might not win but nobody will forget the Shoaibi Group..."  Martin ends this with his trademark giggle.  I thought this was pretty funny as well, especially with all the serious marathon teams entered; we were here to have fun and it was already a great morning.

We slowed down about a minute later as we spied the "28" tag on a loan walker.  Yep, poor Ali was having a walk for the moment.  Martin slowed down and we stretched out the windows to root on Ali.  "Come on Ali...come on Ali, keep going!  HUYYAACKKK...Ali....Keep it HUYYACK up!"  At this point the traffic stalled us and Ali trotted on by.  We were stuck in a magnificent jam, so by the time we got to the light we had all decided that we would root on the next runner....jean pants guy.

"There he is!" Julie points to a well-paced jogger with our "28" beaming out to the world.  We pull up alongside and proceed to yell again..."Keep it up...you're almost HUYYAACCKKK there!"

"That's a woman."  Martin retorts.  "That's Ali's wife!  That's why the head scarf and jeans."  Ok, now we all felt a little better about our team, and she was running well.  Our spirits, which were already up, were lifted even more.  Onto Seef, and the great Pearson preparation.

I got out of the car at the Martin-Mansion and could hardly move.  My legs had knotted up and I felt like a complete sissy.  I was spending more energy coughing now then I had expended during the race, but my body felt as stiff as a board.  I Frankensteined into the house and sat on the couch.  Martin and Julie disappeared to their room to dress for their runs.

At this point in the story, it is important to bring in a fourth character: Martin Birch.  Martin Birch is staying with the Pearsons while he helps get a new Joint Venture off the ground in Saudi Arabia.  "Birchy" as they call him had been gone the entire night and was still not back when we arrived back from my run! 

Martin comes strolling into the living room with his red shirt on, tucked into his running shorts.  He doesn't look ready for the run, and for the first time in my life, Martin looks a bit nervous.  Julie also looks hesitant, but she's more careful by nature.  Martin exudes confidence, so to see him hesitate a bit was impressive.

"Ole Birchy must have had a live night...I spoke to him at 7am and he said he'd be here by noon.  Five minutes to go...Matt you may need to jump in and run a second leg....Hahaha."

"I can do it if needed..." as I massage my legs and shutter inside.  I am still coughing a bit and my back is rigid.  Why did I just volunteer for another...

The door opens and in walks Martin Birch.  He's a hulk of a man; athletic and very awake.

"Sorry there mates, a little late to the door but be ready in a few...Hi there, Martin."  "Matt...and boy am I glad that you are here!"

Birchy is ready in 2 minutes and we're off to the track.  Our plan is for me to drop of Martin Birch first, then drive ahead to the next station where Martin Pearson would be taking the baton from Martin Birch.  Martin Birch would join us as Martin Pearson ran his segment.  We would drive ahead and drop off Julie Pearson, who would then take the baton from her husband Martin.  Finally we would park at the end.  Julie would hand the baton to Mark Jenkins who would finish the race for us.

Martin Birch jumps out of the car and waits anxiously for his chance at glory.  This guys is every bit of 6' 3" and 240.  He's a world class skier and a great athlete, but admitted that the previous night involved brandy and beer.  Unfortunately Martin had crossed paths with an old friend from grammar school and the two of them proceeded to light up the town.  They even met some ladies at one dance club who were running the next day! (We actually saw them moving very, very slowly on one of the later legs).

Martin grabs the baton from Shoaibi Runner #12 and jots off in a walk-run.  We honk and scream as we pass by.  Up ahead, we park and wait for Birchy to come in.  Martin Pearson gives it a few weak stretches and then heads to the hand-off area.  "Come on Birchy!"  we hear Martin yell.  The baton is handed-off and then we get a glimpse of this gigantic sweating man, heaving and coughing like he has the ebola virus.

"I caHUYYAAKn't breeeaaatthhhee....HUCKKKAAAHUYYACKKK!!!!"  This man is sweating like he's just finished the iron man.  His whole shirt is drenched.  We help him into the car...."HAACCKKKKKHHUYYAACKK!!!!"  Whoa, serious wheezing and coughing.  We drive off and honk at Martin, who's moving at about .3ft per minute.  "Take it out slow..." is ringing in my head. 

We arrive at Julie's post and Birchy is still wheezing away, but by this point we're running low on water.  "It's just so hot...and I swear HUYYAACCKKKKK!!!! that is much farther than 3km.  What's that 1.7 miles?  I came around that last turn and the finish line looked like it was 10 miles away....I just couldn't run the whole thing....I HUYAACKKK HUCK HUCCKKK HUYACKKK! am just glad that's over."

Julie jumps out and sees Martin approaching.  I grab a water and Birchy and I head over to meet Martin as he hands the baton to Julie.  Martin doesn't look good either.  "HUYYACKK, Mate that is a long way!  I came to that second light and thought, 'That's not too bad.'  Then I see this guy waving me on.  It's one more light HUYACK ahead.  It's so far.  That felt a lot farther than 3km."  A royal band of runners we are!

We pull up to the F1 track and greet Mark Jenkins, who'll be taking the baton from Julie.  The three of us are hardly moving now.  My entire back is fixed in position and my calfs are aching sharply.  Martin and Martin are in a complete coughing daze.

Mark is ready to go, fresh off a flight from Moscow that arrived that morning.  There is a long straight away leading to this hand-off.  Martin Pearson sneaks away and down the straight away while we all talk.  When I next look down the street I realize that Martin is running the last length with his wife, cheering her on all the way.  It was a really tender moment.  Mark takes the baton from Julie and heads into the last leg of the race.  We stammer over to the finish line and cheer him on as he finishes.  We didn't know what place we were in, but there were definitely less people at the finish line than there were at the starting line that morning.  We were all smile though, because it was finally over.

The next morning I received a call from Martin.  "Morning Matt, you alright?"  "I'm pretty sore to be honest, how are you..."  "Yeah, didn't feel good getting out of the bed this morning.  I can't walk-up stairs today!  Hey Nigel has your medal for running ok."  Medal?  Yep, I was joining the Willmer family with my own running medal, although I didn't win.  Still, I'm proud of my HUYYACCCKKKK!

Complete with Red Racing t-shirt

I am pretty sure that's not gold

I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!

PART I

Wilson has partnered in Saudi Arabia with a company named the Shoaibi Group.  The Shoaibis are a very well known family in Saudi Arabia and they have been excellent hosts for me.  Among many other things, they have sponsored my work visa, which is extremely valuable in KSA, paid my house rent on behalf of Wilson, and provided me with an office to work in.

So when the annual petition for running in the Bahrain Relay Marathon came whirling around the office, I was game.  The event is strictly for charity.  The course is broken-up into 16 segments that range in distance from 2.6km up to 3.2km.  The race starts at the F1 Race Track in Bahrain and makes its way out into the desert and then back to the starting line for the finish.  There are a few basic rules:

1. The active runner must always be carrying his/her team's baton.
2. No runner can run consecutive legs of the race.
3. Good sportsmanship at all times.

The race is an awesome event.  This year almost 160 teams signed-up to run.  Hotels, banks, private companies, schools, school staffs, etc.  There is no limit requirement other than you do your best and follow the rules above.

I was quickly accepted onto the team because I am so fast...or at least they thought I was fast.  Initial courtship took place in the mid-summer, so everyone was snapped to alert when Annalise Widdowson sent out the first critical email about the race.  Suddenly things were getting more serious.  Here's her email:

Dear all


Please see attached notes regarding next week’s race.



I have been asked to point out the following:



1 Matthew, please ensure you arrive at the BIC by 9.15 to collect the baton and to sign in.


2 Failure to run with the baton leads to disqualification. So don’t drop it!


3 Please ensure you arrive early at the start of your leg – please allow 10 mins before the start (estimated start times below). As suggested in my previous email, please drive to the end of your leg, then walk to the start to warm up. Please phone me on 38320439 to let me know you are have arrived, otherwise I will need to send a runner to cover your leg.


4 Please take a moment to familiarize yourself with the route (see attached)


5 Ambulances are available should you need them!!


6 The race finishes at 3pm. At this time, the roads will open up again, and the marshals will pack up.

 Going by last year’s times, the estimated start times are as follows. (Please arrive at your start 10 minutes before.)

 Leg Name Estimated start time


1 MATTHEW ETTER 10am


2 ALI JAFFAR 10.15am


3 ASMAA JAMIL 10.30am


4 RONI (MAE’S BROTHER) 10.50am


5 MAE CHAMI 11.10am


6 JENNIFER LEVESCONTE 11.30am


7 JASON LEVESCONTE 11.50am


8 JOHANN DUTOIT 12.15pm


9 NIGEL WIDDOWSON 12.35pm


10 ANDREW BEAN 12.55pm


11 MICHAEL PRIESTER 1.15pm


12 AHMED AL-NOAIMI 1.35pm


13 MARTIN BIRCH 1.55pm


14 MARTIN PEARSON 2.15pm


15 JULIE PEARSON 2.35pm


16 MARK JENKINS 2.55pm


Nigel has the race tshirts and your race number. He is in Saudi and Bahrain today so if you see him, please grab your tshirt from him.


Our race number is 28 (so if you have any supporters, tell them to look out for this number!!) You must wear the race number on the front and back. Please bring safety pins with you!



Mae will be emailing shortly regarding distribution of Shoaibi tshirts and meeting up after the race.






Thanks


Annelise

This was a serious wake-up call!  I was leading off the race!  Suddenly my knee-touch stretches didn't seem like enough preparation for this event.  3 kilometers...mmm.  I quickly dropped that into my measurement-changer and up popped 1.86 miles.  That's a bit of a hike for someone who hasn't ran in 2 years; I may be in good swim shape, but my knees, back, and legs are not in running shape at all.  "But it's just 15 minutes right?  No problem.  I'm in good shape," I tell myself unconvincingly.
 
This past Friday was race day.  I stayed with Martin and Julie Pearson in Bahrain the night before because that would make Friday morning travels easy.  Nigel Widdowson drove me down to the starting line on Friday.  I walked to his house from Martin's (about 200 yards).  As I was leaving, Martin says, "We'll see you in an hour mate...good luck."  That's what I'm talking about.  In one hour it would be over. 
 
Nigel and I were a little late to the track, so after parking we "jogged" to the registration booth, which was about 1/2 mile away.  "huffff...pufffff"  Nigel is like a gazelle running through the crowd to the registration desk....I'm trying to break holes in the Earth.  Every step feels like a gigantic clomp! on the ground.  My lungs feel good, but the other stuff is saying, "Whoa, don't be doin that Willis."
 
We sign-in and I get our baton - a plastic piece of pipe with our Team Number 28 taped on the end.  Nigel then pats me on the back and says, "Well I'm going to head to my station and get ready.  Have fun...don't take it out too fast."  What was that?  I assume it was all he could think to say, but no matter, it wasn't exactly the stroke of encouragement I needed.  Now I had 20 minutes to "stretch" and look fast amongst all of these runners.  To me it looked like most teams had either put their best people up front or the contest had no weak runners!  Here's the scene from above.
 

 
D-Moment approaches with a blaring, "Racers you have 5 minutes before the start.  If you are not leading off the race for your team, please clear the starting area."  I nonchalantly wedge into the starting area amongst 160 other little people; I feel like godzilla around all of these fleet-footed folks.  Then suddenly, "You're off!"  What in the world is going on, no "30 seconds!" warning?  We went from 5 minutes to go and the cheetahs never looked back.  Take a look at the not-so-fleet-footed camera man who was caught off guard and the fleet-footed runners who almost trampled over him.
 
 

 
...Small steps, baby steps, SPLAT! a woman tumbles down on my right side, baton bouncing everywhere as a little man hurdles her like we're in a steeplechase...bigger steps, 75 yards in..."Heyyyyyy!!!!!"  This guy is running backwards next to me while waving to people in the stands.  He quickly squares back around and keeps going.  Large man huffing and puffing away on my left, Ipod in action of course..."Hrrumph...Hrrumph" goes the 98 year old man limping by on my right.  I dart out to the edge of the track and pass a few unsuspecting people.  Yep, I'm cruising now.  Long strides, "don't take it out too fast..." blaring away in my head.
 
I arrive at the end of the first long track-way and we do a 180 degree turn and start running back down an alley in the exact opposite direction.  I'm feeling good so far, but it's gotta be the adrenaline.  I look-up and to my left is a fence line running parallel to my direction.  Ethiopians go zooming by at a pace I couldn't acheive in a dead sprint!  I look down my path.  "I've got 500 yards to go before I come back around and these guys just whisked by me!"  Now I'm feeling a bit slower.  I get to the end of this second corridor, smile for an action shot, and then head down in the opposite direction, except this time the end is even farther away.  "Keep pushing buddy..." "hu hu hu hu..."  There goes a 15 year old kid by me.  No prob, slow and steady wins the race.  To the end of the corridor I trudge and onto the F1 track, which suddenly compares to the Pacific Ocean in size.  A third 180 and I'm darting towards the start line again; this is my fourth time up and down this direction, each time down a different corridor.  Legs start feeling weak now, I'm wheezing that dust in from the desert...out of the stadium and down the entry way for spectators...wait down, crap that means I'm going back up now, and slower than grass growing.  A Dad cheers on his son as he passes me in slow motion.  Top of the grade and around a gradual turn and there is the handoff.  By this time the last 100 yards feels like a race in mud.  Here's a picture of a hand-off point for reference.
 

 
I hand off the baton to Ali and he gives me a nervous smile.  "Go Alieee"  My voice is raspy from my 15 minute dance with death...I start hacking and coughing away.  "Walk it off Matt." I think to myself.  After a few minutes I'm fine and head to the parking lot where Julie and Martin were picking me up.  I quickly found them and we drove back for a little rest before heading back out for their segments....
 
TO BE CONTINUED

ROAD TRIP TO DUBAI

So the Ras Tanura Water Polo team logged its first official road trip for 2010.  Normally the team plays in the 50+ category at most master's tournaments, which leaves-out a number of us on the team from playing.  So when the Dubai Water Polo Club organized an open tournament and invited us to play, we were game on!

The tournament took place on Friday, September 24th at the Dubai Marina.  That's right, we were officially playing in the Persian Gulf.  I was very fortunate because I was already in Dubai when the tournament took place - I was there for work at our Jebel Ali facility.  But my week of work allowed for no time to scope out the facilities.  All I had were some pictures taken from a previous tournament, which I posted on my last blog.  Friday morning would be my first view of the field.

On Friday morning, Tommy Broussard was nice enough to drive me down to the marina from his apartment, where I had been staying that week.  We barged into 3 different "marinas", each time being told with a yes-nod that this wasn't the place (the yes-nod accompanies all answers).  On our fourth try we were successful!  Tommy drove me down to the water's edge, right to the field I'd seen in the pictures, although this time there was a huge boat at the far end of the marina.  It turns out that this boat was there by chance only, and that was a good thing!  It was close to 100 degrees outside and we were probably playing 5 games.  This boat provided shade and a decent view of the games.  Here's a shot of an ongoing game from the boat.

Our team was placed in bracket #2.  We started our first game at 11:00am in order to accomodate a number of our players who took the early morning 1 hour flight from Bahrain to Dubai.  By the time our first game rolled around we were all present and accounted for.

We breezed through our bracket, playing one close game against Dubai "B", which we eventually won 5-3.  While the scenery was pretty awesome, it was apparent when playing that anything could happen.  Here's a few situations to consider:

1. The cages weren't really tied down tightly.  Those of you that have been to a game in a pool know that floating cages have to be on a tight line or they tend to flip forward.  This happened a number of times with the goal falling down onto the goalie. 
2. The water was actually pretty mild.  I had swam in the Gulf that summer and it must have been 134 degrees then.  But that was the middle of summer and this was September.  What didn't change however was that this was saltwater.  When you're experienced (and lazy) like me, swimming with your head down is a very good energy-saver, versus chugging around with your head out of the water.  If you know what's happening, you can take 80% of your strokes in the more efficient head-down mode.  Salt water makes that miserable because your eyes get ruined in 45 seconds.  So it was head-up all day.
3. You'll notice the pier to the left side of the field.  That is where the referees called the game and where the scorer's desk was located.  It's also a small barrier between us and 1,556 boats and jet skiis that are zipping around the harbor.  More than 6 times some yahoo would go whooshing by on his 1,000 horsepower Sea Doo and create humongous waves.  There were a couple of plays where you actually lost a view of the game you were playing in because the waves were so high!  Some skip shots went 12 feet over the goal because they hit a wave and bounced straight up...
4. It was hot.  The Dubai sponsors had water in ice chests set-up all over the place, but those little water cups ran out quickly and there was no escape form the heat.  To cope, I resorted to my inner bedouin instincts:

Notice the stylish towel that is serving as my protector from the sun.

Still, the venue was one of a kind and we were smiling ear to ear after our morning matches.

Our walk through bracket play set-up a match with the Dubai "A" squad.  This was a good team, with players from all over the world.  We stunk it up like small children and lost 4-0.  I think in the end we got off 2 good shots.  They punched us in the mouth and never looked back, taking an early 2-0 lead before we even felt warmed-up.  Adding insult to injury, the referee was from their club!  I think we still would have lost, but some of the calls were downright awful, and he made them while wearing sandals and a red bikini!  Now let me be clear when I describe this to everyone: THIS GUY WASN'T CHISELED FROM STONE.  Just imagine, you're wrestling for position, gagging on salt water, you hear a whistle blow, and when you turn to see the call, not only do you realize he's calling a turnover, but you're catapulted into shock by the visual:

Regardless of the calls, we lost the game and were relegated to the 3rd-4th place match against Abu Dhabi.  Abu Dhabi had barely lost to Egypt in their semifinal match, so we knew we had our hands full.  In typically tardy fashion, we recovered from our sloppy semifinal match and beat-up on Abu Dhabi 6-1.  So 3rd place at the end of the day.  We finished very tired, parched from salt water, and ready to head home.  Here's some picutres from after the game.

Back Row: John Denker, Me, Vidal Noya, Abdi Majdpour, Haider Haj, Anthony Sawaya, Raul Murillo, Costas Tsingas

Front Row: Dean Bell, Austin Brill, Dennis Bell

CAL Brothers:  Anthony and I with Dubai in the background

Here's Dean and I with the awesome curved building in the background

I arrived at the airport that evening for a 10:30pm flight back to Bahrain.  At this point I was wasted and ready to get home.  I approach the Gulf Air check-in desk and they don't have my return ticket!  Apparently they only had a one way ticket from Bahrain to Dubai - the return ticket was never booked.  I'll close on this conversation:

Ticket Lady: "You can purchase a ticket for the next flight.  It leaves at 11:20pm to Bahrain..."

Me: "...Ok, no problem..."

Ticket Lady: "...but that flight is actually delayed an hour and is now scheduled to leave at 12:30am."

Me: "Well, I'll take it.  I have to get home for a meeting in Bahrain tomorrow."

Ticket Lady: "We'll get you there eventually (smile on face)."

At 1:25am we finally lifted off the ground in Dubai.  At 1:20am I landed in Bahrain (1 hour behind thankfully).  At 2:10am I fell into bed.  At 3:00am I fell asleep....

And that's a trip to Dubai for you.  Anybody want to visit?

VACATION FOR THE LAST TIME!

Well it's been a while since my last post, and that's because I've been on vacation!  Yep, I headed back to the United States for some Rest and Relaxation with la familia.

The first part of my vacation was in Houston.  I wanted to see friends and catch-up on work at the corporate office.  I also wanted to check on my motorcycles, which have been sitting with Greg Hale at MC Creations.  I drove-up to MC Creations on Saturday, anxious to see my 1952 Panhead.  The frame had been painted after I left for Saudi Arabia and I had not seen it yet.  The paint didn't disappoint.  I have been working on this bike since 1996, when I first bought the wishbone frame for $300 from a guy in Oakland.  The motor I found in 2001 when Greg turned me onto a customer who had a '52 Pan motor for sale, along with the transmission and belt drive.  Over the last 9 years I have slowly put parts together and let Greg's frame guy work the frame straight and create the nicks and nacks that would make the bike different.  Here are some pictures taken through the years.

Here's a couple of years ago...

And a little farther along...

And in real good shape...but you notice that rusty frame?

Now look at that pretty frame!



So you can see the awesome black paint on this frame now.  I have decided to keep the blue tank in the pictures above and just have it repainted the same color with a glossy finish; the fender will be the same blue.  The guys at MC insist that I need something on the tank to finish off the bike.  They are thinking the #1 like Evil Knievel's old Harley cycles - you know, the ones he broke all his bones on.  I am not sure about that.  I need some help from my friends in blog world.  What do you think?

The second part of my vacation was in Park City, Utah.  My parents rent a home up in the mountains every summer.  They have been doing this for about 3 years now. The first year it was a 4-week adventure...last year it was 6 weeks.  This year they rented it for a whole 2 months.  My Mom enjoys tennis and the relaxing environment, both for walks and cruising through Park City's open markets.  My Dad hits the Provo River to fly fish.  When I visit I indulge in all of the above...except tennis of course.  My charge towards Olympic glory in water polo requires that I not run at all.  I have a great time fishing with my Dad.  I even catch a fish occasionally.

After a relaxing week in Utah I headed to Phoenix to start my MBA program at Thunderbird.  Pursuing my MBA was a big decision for me.  I am 37 years young and the average age at the program is 31.  That's not exactly youth, but still a decent few years below me.  I've traveled and worked all around the world and it made me nervous as to whether an MBA program would provide me with much.  Thunderbird is the top ranked international management program in the world, but getting an MBA is an expensive proposition.  As is always the case, God bumped me along and some key friends encouraged me at the perfect time.  So off to school I went.  Hot off a nice vacation, I was hoping my week in Phoenix would be standard management stuff: teamwork assignments, lectures, get-to-know you crap, etc.  WRONG!  Everyday all 53 suckers in the program would rise at 7am and not hit the room until after 10pm.  We were busy beyond belief, and the program content was awesome.  My fellow students were equally impressive and I can only humbly thank God again for being God.  Now it's 19 months of pure work.

After Phoenix I headed to Los Angeles to finish the vacation in style.  I was heading to the Willmer's house!  There are now seven Willmers, five of whom are rocking and rolling all the time.  From the moment I surprised them at the door, we had our foot pressing the pedal all the way to the floor.  I love my nieces and nephews.  We went and watched Brian's APU team win a big game in San Diego.  We practiced gymnastics in the backyard, which was the most painful and humiliating event of the visit - I can't seem to stretch much at all these days.  We had a trampoline extravaganza, where I proved my worth with some awesome feet-to-stomach-to-feet-to-butt-to-feet bouncing.  The crowd went wild.  In case you're curious, my new blog wallpaper was taken from one of my awesome bounces.  We also ate awesome food and sang Miley Cyrus like it was opera!  Thank you Willmers for always making visits so totally awesome.  Marty and Marta will be with me next time.

So I am back in Saudi Arabia.  Eid has ended and I have 10 days to prepare for the Dubai water polo tournament.  I haven't been able to swim on this vacation so the tournament could be rough.  Here is where we'll be playing.

Yep, we're battling some waves in this "pool."  Updates to come friends.  In the meantime, I need paint ideas!!!!


Matt

LIFE IN SAUDI ARABIA – PART 4

BOBBIN AND A WEAVIN

So it has been a while since my last post, which chronicled a glorious return to water polo, my favorite sport.  I am sure that previous post propelled people to wonder, “If he’s going to make his run for the Olympic Water Polo team in 2012, how is he going to stay in swim shape?” Well that is a great question my friends. If you’ll remember from my earliest posts, I have been blessed with two training pools in my compound. One pool is in the main residential area, and the second is inside the Al Hada neighborhood of the compound.  Yep, swimming is my ticket to glory road.

Swimming had taken a back seat to water polo the past 3 months, but with the Ras Tanura Team off competing at the World FINA Championships in Sweden, I had to admit that swimming needed to come back into my life (tear).

About 2 weeks ago I started heading back to the main complex swim pool, committed to keeping in shape.  I swim at this pool for a number of reasons. First, it is the closest of the two lap swim pools, and when the temperature is holding steady at a sweet 112 degrees, you don’t walk any farther than you have to in any given stretch. Secondly, being in the main compound, the pool is next to the main office and the supermarket. At the main office I can drop off my dry cleaning and pick-up a few movies (free rentals on the compound!). If the swim practice is tough I can grab a jug of water for a measly .80 cents – one of the big waters, not those whimpy little personal bottles. Finally, the main pool is used by the Oasis Swim Team to practice, so lane ropes will often be set-up and, if lucky, the flags for backstroke (not that those matter because I’m going so slow into the wall anyway).

So off to the pool I go and to give you an idea of the trip I’ve provided some live point of view shots.

Here is the view while still walking in my compound, Al Sanad. This is our pool, a weak pool for those of us training for gold medals. There is usually a couple of local guys gagging some laps out here…I just wave and walk on by…I have no time for the pleasures of “cooling off”!

Out of my compound and into the main compound I go. There is a long cement stretch before I turn into area where the pool resides.  On the weekend, when the sun lights this puppy up, it is about the longest 100 yards in memory. My sweat glands have their own sweat glands just for this walk.

Into the compound and towards the pool I march. My inner self has tried to produce reasons for “passing on the swim just this day.” Nope. My will is too strong. Like the light at the end of the tunnel, my fitness awaits…THE POOL ENTRANCE…

Then a small stair climb and AAAAAHHHHHHH…(background angels singing). The pool in all its majesty presents itself.

A changing room, air conditioned, provides some relief from the brutal heat.  I actually have to walk the back of my t-shirt up over my head when changing because so much stickiness has invaded me. It’s awful. But no worries; I hit some basic stretches (arm swings, neck rotations touch my knees with my fingertips) and then into the pool I go.

2 weeks ago I followed this routine on a particularly hot day. 5 minutes of stretching and I was ready to go. I dipped my toe in the water and felt nauseous. The pool was warm! I slithered into the bathtub-like water and felt sick. It was warmer in the water than it was outside! Well warm water wasn’t going to stop me, so I headed off on my 1,000 meter warm-up; that is until my face was ready to melt-off at 500 meters. I could hardly breathe, and I felt like taking a nap right there in the water. At 500 meters I popped-up and let the fresh 112 degree air cool me off. This wasn’t going to work. For 4 more days I tried the pool, hoping, praying that the water chiller would be turned-on…but to no avail. The pool was getting warmer everyday as the sun beat down on it. After day five I was defeated. I had to find another place to train.

My old friend Dennis Bell (Dennis introduced me to the water polo team at Aramco) had once mentioned to me that the Al Hada complex had a nice pool that was cool. I had to try. So the next day I committed myself to the extra 1/4 mile walk to the Al Hada complex.

Like the initial phase of the walk from my compound, the Al Hada just entails an additional stretch of cement. I was trucking down the middle of the street because traffic is light in the compound.

As I approached the turn into the Al Hada complex I noticed some ducks and geese in a little pool alongside the road. Just as I was marvelling at God’s loving creatures, the big papa goose looked at me and lowered his head down like a raging bull. Hm, that’s a little freaky; then this jerk takes a few aggressive steps towards me, but now he’s hissing like a snake and bobbing his head back and forth slowly. Why so much anger and aggression my webbed-foot friend. These big daddy geese can pack a mean bite, so I whip out my towel (with swimsuit and goggles wrapped inside) and stomp 2 unconvincing steps towards the feathered bully while waving my towel weakly above my head; I am positive that I looked like I was engaged in a new rain dance.  At this point, frozen by my darting moves, he stops, raises his head, tilts it slightly away from me, beak pointing up, all the while keeping his eyes on me. Then his mouth opens and he lets out and even greater hiss. So I stomp back at him and swing my towel. This finally gets him to back-up off the microphone, but he’s still strutting and watching me as I pass along to the compound. When I pull up to the security gate at the Al Hada complex I see the security guard smiling and waving at me. Yep, he was watching the whole heavy weight bout, and I am pretty sure he wasn’t impressed. In fact, it must have brought some needed joy to an otherwise boring day in the security booth. I made my way to the pool at Al Hada and jumped into very cool water. I wasn’t going back to my other pool until they fixed the water chiller in it. This pool was it, but I’d have to figure out how to contend with the Guarders of the Gate.

That night I spoke with my parents. I told my Dad about my bird encounter and he just laughed. “Yeah, those big honkers are territorial (laugh again). Just run after him and he should back off.” Ok Dad, you got it. Plus, the pool is so nice; I have to make it work. This time, prior to my heading out, I am religious about towel preparation. My defensive weapon has to be ready to go.

Pre-wrap.  Focusing on a tight roll.

Post-wrap.  Ready to swing.

I head out for the pool, towel in hand. On my way I see a cat in the compound. The cat stops for a photo.

This cat just stared at me. It didn’t move in fear or angst whatsoever. Am I sending off some chemical signal that the impending second round with my feathery orange-beak enemy has me slightly nervous? Apparently this cat felt so.


Off to Al Hada.  Here I need to make sure everyone gets the full lowdown on the layout.  First is the pre-approach.  I make sure my towel is ready to go.  In the distance, the honkers are brewing for a fight.  You can see him on the road to the right of my towel in the picture.  Look at that little guy.  He's in the road!  Stay in the water area please.  The little white guard shack, serving as the VIP box seats is in the background.

I walk closer, slowly.  This time it’s a different honker, but lo and behold he goes through the same motions! But I am ready this time and take some manly steps towards him and swing my towel. The difference this time is that the bout was then interrupted by a few people. First, a local maintenance worker pedals on by, right as I’m popping my weave moves. “Hi sir” he waves to me. The goose doesn’t even break stride, but the bicycle had allowed me to get outside of Daffy's territory somewhat. Thinking blog entertainment, I stop for a photo. The honker starts to hiss again. That is when I realize that a car has pulled up on the road and is watching this whole dance while waiting to proceed. I guess he thought I was taking some professional pictures with my phone and didn’t want to interrupt. Maybe I was...I got the whole lot of them in this shot.

Either way, the driver also saw the bobbin and weaving, but instead of a “Hi sir” wave, he gives me the old two finger hello while hands are on the steering wheel. Too cool for school I guess. Once again, the show for the security office must have been amazing. Another smile and a wave and into Al Hada I go.

The last 100 yards of the walk to the pool are long, but peaceful because no animals are trying to attack me.

Once inside the pool, the water temperature more than makes up for the treacherous journey I have just completed. Ah, the things we athletes do to train….

WATER POLO IN SAUDI ARABIA?

PART 1
OLYMPICS HERE WE COME!!

One of my primary goals in Saudi Arabia was to get back into shape. It has been a long, long, long time since I felt like I was really in physical shape. I wanted to lose weight in Saudi Arabia to be sure, but I also wanted to be in real shape, not just 30 minute work-out shape. So when I started looking at compounds to live in I always checked to see if they had a good swimming pool. Yep, swimming would take the cake any day over running, biking, walking, weights, etc. Well the Oasis has a magnificent pool that is actually used by the compound swim team to train – more to follow on the Oasis in posts to come.

From my first weekend in Saudi I hit the pool. I’ll never forget those first 5 days. A 200 (8 laps) swim felt like a sick form of torture…sloppier and sloppier strokes each lap, huge breaths like toddlers when they’re learning to swim and breathe, hips sinking quickly towards the vertical state, and massive lactic acid build-up. At the end of 8 Iaps I would lunge for the wall like a drowning man, pop my head up like a Contra Costa Free-Swimmer, suck in a huge breath of O2, and there would be the pool cleaning guy, smiling and waving, “Hi sir.” Take that stupid pool cleaner and shove it!!!! It was awful, but I committed to add four laps a day to my swim work-out every day and I stuck with it. Pretty soon I was kicking off with a 1,000 meter warm-up and working in real sets. Each week I felt lighter and stronger in the water. I started adding sets of 100s (4 laps) and 200s (8 laps) in combination, IM sets, sprint sets…Matt Biondi is my name and swimming is my game! OK, not quite. There is still lunging going on and big, gasping breaths, but with much more justification now.

Well it took about 4 months of Oasis swimming for me to get to a place where I remembered why I always struggled with swim work-outs –I finally hit a place where I didn’t want to add any more yards. I would hit the 50 minute mark pretty tired and just didn’t want to swim anymore. It takes incredible personal discipline and drive to be a swimmer (shout out Lincan) and I just don’t have that kind of drive. You have to be willing to push through the pain, and alone in my case; it is usually easier to push along with other people swimming. Nope, I had hit the wall and wasn’t going to push much further. This was compounded by the fact that the Oasis ownership didn’t see a real reason to keep the chiller on as we moved into summer. A couple of times I got into the pool and the temperature was 88 degrees! It felt like swimming in a bathtub and just totally drained any energy I had; not good when extra yardage is already being questioned (On a side note, it gets so hot here in Saudi that they actually have to cool the water!).

It was about this time that I ran into a Monday night swim group at the Oasis. I was usually finishing my workout at 7pm, right when they were arriving to start their swim. For the most part, they were average swimmers just getting in a nice workout alongside friends, but there was one gentleman who seemed out of place. He jumped in without goggles on and swam a loping head-up style. It was a water polo player’s stroke. I didn’t think much of it past that evening, but the next weekend I was finishing my set when this gentleman arrived at the pool to work-out alone. Out of nowhere, as I heaved in gobs of oxygen after my toughest set, he introduced himself as Dennis Bell. Then he asked the greatest question I’ve heard in years. “Do you by chance play water polo?” What? Excuse me? “Of course…well I played water polo, but haven’t for 8 years.” “Well we have a team at Aramco and you just struck me as a guy who probably played water polo.” “Well, I know I’m pretty dynamic in the water, “lightning fast” if you want to call it that…” OK, just kidding. I just sat there in the water with a dopey grin on my face. He continued on, “If you want to play with us we practice on Tuesday evenings, Thursday and Friday mornings. In fact if you want to go tomorrow I’ll pick you up at the gate around 7:15am.” I was giddy as a school girl and couldn’t wait. Only God could plant this type of scenario in Saudi Arabia…what would make this guy just come out and ask, after showing up at the pool on a weekend night at the same time I was there!

The following morning I went to my first practice at the Aramco pool and met an amazing group of guys. Turns out that this Aramco team competes in the 50+ age group at the World FINA Masters Tournament every two years; in 2008 they headed to Australia to play, and this year they are heading to Sweden. This wasn’t some fly by night outfit of guys hacking through the pool. No these guys knew the game pretty well.

Thursday and Friday (my weekends) we practice early AM at Aramco. We usually get 12-14 guys at practice so we can actually full-court scrimmage. On Tuesday nights from 8-10pm we play a local club team named Etifat. We play at their pool, which is about 5 minutes from my apartment. Those games are usually pretty even. They’re a younger team (17-24) that swims like crazy, and we’re the slimy veterans who grab and hold all the time.

Our team is an awesome mix of nationalities. We have one guy from Iran who played on the 1976 Iranian National Team, one guy who played for Brazil, our Goalie (and best player) went to Cal in 1974 and played there, six guys from the United States (including yours truly), one from the UK, one guy from Australia, one from Saudi Arabia, our youngest player was on the Egyptian Junior National Team (he’s 26 now), and another player from Greece. It is a blast to play again, and perfect timing. Now I can mix in the water polo workouts with the swim workouts - the swimming has become much more enjoyable.

Top Row (L to R): Chuck Crew (USA), Jim Findley (USA), Me, Anthony Sawaya (USA-Ex Cal Hoorah!), Abdi Majdpour (Iran), Kostas Tsingas (Greece), Chris Heine (USA), Raul Murillo (Brazil), Haider Haj (Saudi Arabia)

Bottom Row: Dennis Bell (UK), Austin Brell (Australia)

This past weekend we played a game up at Ras Tanura, which is about 45 miles northeast of Khobar. I finally took some pictures of the team because they were all in one place. The action shot is a stinker – it’s actually not a real action shot at all, but you can see Anthony (goalie) pointing, slightly upset with someone - but more will be coming. The guys are in their final stages for training before their trip to Sweden and the FINA Championships. Two years ago they came in 9th place out of 11 teams, but they lost 3 games by a goal and were winning all three of those games at one point. This year there are 12 teams and they’re shooting for a top 6 finish. I wish I could play with them. Wish them luck!

After Sweden they come back to Saudi and we start over again for the fall season…yes, fall season. We have a tournament in late September in Qatar where we play against teams from Dubai (1 team), Kuwait (1 team) and 3 teams from Qatar, including their National Team (we lost 7-4 to them last year). That tournament is in a regulation men’s pool (30m x 20m) which will be a gagger. Most senior men’s tournaments are in 25m pools these days unless it’s International competition, 20-35 age group, or NCAA. We’ll struggle with the swimming in that tournament but we’ll weasel our way through it. More importantly we all get to play together in Qatar as it is not age-based. There is also a big tournament in Saudi in November with some really good teams from the Western Province. We’ll see how that goes. I feel like I’m back in summer water polo again…

I can’t express how blessed God has made me. I gained 10 friends in a span of two weeks, and I’m playing my favorite sport of all time. Awesome, just awesome. As we cruise along the next season there will be plenty of updates on this adventure.

A TALE OF TWO CITIES

This past week I was able to get out of Saudi Arabia and travel to a couple of countries in the region; nothing too exciting, just a wrinkle in the standard routine. My first stop was Dubai, to be followed by a trip to Muscat, Oman. As I trudged through airports and sat in traffic, I was struck again by how different the landscape in the Middle East can change from city to city. So this entry there are no high speed car chases or barb wire, but just a little glimmer into the different styles life can offer here.

Dubai an Emirate located in the United Arab Emirates (UAE). This is often confusing to people because Dubai is so well known, but when a discussion deepens with a person they ultimately realize they aren’t sure if Dubai is a city, a country, a county, an area or whatever. Well Dubai is one of the seven Emirates that make-up the United Arab Emirates. The other six are Abu Dhabi, Ajman, Sharjah, Fujairah, Umm al-Qaiwain and Ras al-Khaimah. Abu Dhabi and Dubai are the most well known of the group. These seven emirates make-up a single government that oversees the politics and policies of the UAE, with Abu Dhabi ultimately having veto power over the body. Abu Dhabi is also the wealthiest emirate, with large natural gas and oil reserves off its shores in the Persian Gulf.

Dubai came to fame over the past 10-15 years through a massive and rapid expansion. The Al Maktoum family, rulers of Dubai, undertook an intensive plan to make Dubai the new hub for business in the 21st century. Investment rules were loosened and a huge free-trade port and area was established known as the Jebel Ali Free Trade Zone. Companies by the 1,000s flocked to Dubai and set-up warehousing, offices and manufacturing facilities as a launching point to ship product to the rest of the region: Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Kuwait, etc. Along with the free trade zone came investment banks and other financial institutions, media centers and technology companies. The final touch was the creation of an almost legendary tourism business. Seven star hotels, exotic housing neighborhoods, indoor skiing, gigantic malls, and now the tallest building in the world, all sprung-up in Dubai. It is a playground for the wealthy.

As I got off the plane and walked into Dubai International Airport I was reminded why I am not a particular fan of traveling there. The airport is huge. I have had to walk from one side to the other and it is not pleasurable. The duty free area alone is as big as the average US mall. Two stories with all the major brands. Like a casino, the airport never sleeps. It is a major transit point for the world traveling east to west or vice versa. Flights leave at 2am to Singapore, 10am to Houston, and at all times of the day to London and the rest of Europe. Walking from one end to the other takes almost 45 minutes!

Once out of the airport it’s immediate heat. Dubai is a concrete jungle and can be very humid. Tommy Broussard, our Director of Eastern Hemisphere Operations picked me up and we headed to a lunch meeting with V&M pipes. Along the way I was able to capture some of the amazing sites.

Here is the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. This first picture doesn’t do justice to its height or massive base, needed to support the upper stories.  But this photo might put the height into perspective! This building is 2,717 feet tall…almost ½ a mile up! You can take a $50 tour up to the 110th floor if you want. I’ll stay down here on the ground thank you very much.

And if that still isn’t enough, here’s a professional photo taken of the massive building. Look at those itty-bitty skyscrapers around the base!

Check out the indoor skiing slope. That silver tube stretches back up the “mountain”. We’re talking chair lifts folks!

In Dubai there is no shortage of places to eat so we decided on Mexican food (yep, you start to miss burritos when in Saudi!). The food was excellent and our meeting was productive. We said our goodbyes and headed to Tommy’s house for some R&R before my 7pm flight to Muscat. I took one photo out of Tommy’s apartment. You can see another apartment building going up with a cool twisting architecture. The marina is down below. I'd say that Tommy’s home is quite different from the Oasis.

That evening I was back to the airport, trudging miles to my gate, and then catching a flight to Muscat. As a parting shot, here is an inside view of the airport in Dubai…this is one side of the luggage area, just for Dubai Airlines. If you’re flying another airline, you’re in a totally different area.

Muscat is located in the country of Oman. Oman is renowned for its peaceful, loving population and wise leadership. Muscat is very different from Dubai. It has carefully planned its growth by limiting building heights and colors. As I woke-up the morning after my flight, I took these photos from my window.

Muscat was my first adventure to the Middle East back in 2008. I took a load of photos on that first trip. Here are some of the more memorable ones.

Check out the Shanri-La Hotel - 7 wonderful stars without all the glitz and glamour.

Check out the beach in Muscat.  Very serene.  The water is very clear and people are swimming and fishing all through the summer.  This is right down the beach from the Shangri La Hotel.

Like night and day from the Burj Khalifa, Muscat is a sleepy little town in comparison. Unni Kizhake (our Project Manager in the region) and I headed to meetings with our local partners, a local pipe company, as well as some customers. It was a very productive trip that we capped off with some Turkish seafood. Here is Unni in a nice Valentine’s Day photo that Jack Mason made at lunch last year…ok, sorry, but there has to be some pranks and fun in every blog.

The next morning, heading back to the airport, I snapped another photo. Look how hard it is to get the buildings in the photo!

Also notice the backdrop of mountains. Oman is bordered by a mountain range which gives the country a totally different feel from the flat desert of Saudi Arabia and Dubai. It is very pretty, although it holds heat in like a microwave. Saudi Arabia has been around 106 the past week. Oman was running at about 111! You would think the difference was negligible at those levels, but trust me, it’s noticeable in a big way.

Oman is a wonderful place. I know the Middle East is not the garden spot choice for people’s vacation, but I highly recommend Oman, especially if you can tie-it to another week in a place like Thailand or somewhere in Asia. The people are wonderful and there is a lot to do in Oman, from hiking to lounging on the beach to shopping in the markets. I prefer Oman to the large cement jungle of Dubai, but either way it sure was nice to get away to another country for a few days.

Life in Saudi Arabia Part 3

WATCH OUT!!!!

I am following a few blogs these days and I’m always amazed at how funny my friends and family are when describing the oddities of their daily lives. I walk out my door every morning and wish for the same sort of high adventure: Novacaine, amazing home stories, moving, etc. Life provides some hilarious episodes and we only have to step out of our bodies for a minute to see them.


Here in Saudi Arabia, those situations tend to be more difficult to capture, not because they don’t exist, but because they are happening at hyper speed. Driving is the best example of this reality. So this is my first tribute-blog to the men and streets who make the dream of adventure come alive here in Saudi Arabia.

First, the rules of the road:

1. Do not endanger other people with your driving style.

That’s it...honestly.  More than one person have told me that this is the Golden Rule. Follow this rule and you won't get pulled over by the police.  OK, there are obvious traffic laws, but they all pretty much fall under THE rule of the road listed above. Basic traffic laws would consist of:

1. Don’t drive on the wrong side of the road.

2. Red lights mean stop, Green lights mean go.

3. Don’t exceed the speed limit posted.

4. Stop at signs that say STOP.

5. Wear your seatbelts.

6. No talking on the phone while driving.

7. Park in designated areas.

All sounds pretty simple until you actually climb into Blue Lightning and make your first go of driving.  Here's my stallion in this Thunderdome adventure.  A very blue Toyota Camry.

Once actually underway, the basic traffic laws start to unveil their true nature:

1. Don’t drive on the wrong side of the road – Unless you have to get somewhere easily attainable and no cars are coming from the opposite direction…at least not too closely on the horizon.  If it’s possible, make a quick stab at the parking spot from the wrong side so you don’t have to u-turn further up the road.  After all, less driving means less chance of an accident right?

2. Red lights mean stop, Green lights mean go – Well, red lights only mean stop when you’re heading straight. If you’re making a right turn, it actually means accelerate, pedestrians beware. If a light is red and you’re exceeding the speed limit (see rule #3 below) by at least 30 km/hr then better to accelerate even more to make sure you only miss the green light by 4-5 seconds instead of 10 seconds.

3. Don’t exceed the speed limit posted – This is actually just a suggestion. It’s highly recommended that you try and race everyone around you. There are awards for the fastest driver to nowhere and slowest driver ever, with the all time record being sub 10 km/hr on a freeway onramp.

4. Stop at signs that say STOP – Well only if you have to. If stopping means you’ll miss a break in the traffic to cross an intersection, better to coast through it. If a 4-way stop is encountered, the game of Chicken is automatically instituted.

5. Wear your seatbelts – Only if the PINGING sound in the car gets too annoying to stand. Otherwise, do what feels comfortable.

6. No talking on the phone while driving – That’s absurd. Nobody can find out where they’re going if they aren’t on the phone getting directions. Call as you will, but try and keep at least one hand on the steering wheel in case #1, #2, or #4 occur around you.

7. Park in designated areas – Well you just don’t want your car to get hit as a result of #1, #2, #4, or #6. Park where you can avoid any damage.

As I drive around these days, thinking about friends and family blog-moments I read about every day, I am saddened as one situation after another passes me by knowingly; see I can’t snap photos fast enough to capture the madness, and trust me, without a photo 99.9% of the planet is not going to believe the stories I tell. That doesn’t mean that I’ve failed in my efforts to pass a slice of Saudi driving back to friends and family though. Take heart followers, a basket of pictures awaits you.

First of all, the parking situation; I took this photo while heading to my car after work. See, in the morning I passed right by that car, almost sharing some paint because it was sticking out in the road so far. It might not look like much, but when the left turn is blind because of a big truck, having a car half in the road when you make the turn is a BIG SURPRISE! Just a note: This picture was snapped 2 weeks ago and that car is still sitting like that. Permanent parking spot I think.

Along the same lines, in front of me yesterday was this car. A couple of bothersome issues here: First of all, this car is probably 3 feet from the curb…at least.  I think he wanted to keep his car out of the sand so it wouldn’t get dirty. It’s not like sand is blowing all around us, all the time, right? This car isn’t parked sideways, partly in the road, like our runner-up in the previous example. Nope, this car is completely in the road. Second, you’ll notice the sand build-up to the curb. That’s what we call a natural driveway here in Saudi Arabia. The lot to the right is a parking area for cars, so most drivers try to keep the sand area open so cars can drive in and out of the lot without scraping the bottom of their car on the curb. Our Parking Champion however just decided to block the whole entrance. He’s the winner in my parking area for sure.

So let’s hit the road a little bit. The vast majority of streets feel like the log ride at an amusement park. There’s just that feeling that you can’t get outside of the track or you’ll bang into something. Most of the streets are one-way, like this one. There is not a sign telling you that; just the large truck coming at you when you make the turn. So if you don’t hit a car or person, because people are always wandering around in the lesser streets, you still need to make sure you’re going in the right direction. About people, you’ll notice about halfway down the street, on the right, is a mosque. After prayer time this street will have people everywhere, so best to avoid those busy moments and stay on the main roads if possible.

Exiting the freeway last week I noticed a taxi cab in front of me that looked like the rolling version of the challenge “How Many People Can You Fit In A Phone Booth.” It may be tough to count here, but there had to have been at least 4-5 people in the backseat and maybe another 1-2 in the front seat, driver excluded of course. I’m sure they were all wearing their seatbelts.

Still heading home I encountered another wonderful challenge: A lane that just ends so cars can merge into traffic. Take a look at the lane line on the road. “Well let’s just curve the line here and make this a shoulder! That way people exiting their offices can turn right, gain speed, and get into traffic…” Uh huh…and what about all the people going 50 mph when this lane ends? Oh, just honk and people will get out of the way. You’ll notice that the cars in this photo seem to be starting-in on their Drive Dance right when this picture was taken. The car on the right is truly driving about 15 mph while the car on the left is probably going 45mph. Everyone knows what is happening here, but the principle is incredible.

Finally I’m almost home. This is the side street that heads down to my complex. You’ll notice the large security door opening in the distance. This is the exit door for the larger portion of my complex. My home is to the right. Before I get to my security gate though, I get to zig zag down this street. You’ll notice the cement barriers. We get to veer side to side as we dodge each other down this road. The good thing is that everyone is driving very slowly for once. I actually took this picture from a stop.  Another quick note: That little white enclosure to the left of the security door is a military post.  An M-50 is propped up facing the road just in case someone tries to catapult their car over the wall like Lee Majors in the Fall Guy.

Finally it is home sweet home. My complex security door opens and I breathe a sigh of relief - another safe drive home. More from Mad Max in the weeks to come.  You can probably appreciate at this point that this photo was taken from my camera, not my phone...the glory of the color isn't just more pleasing to view, it represents the hallelujiah of all light when arriving home safely!

More to come in Saudi Arabia everyone...a call for water sports has been made!