Executive Dinner, Welcome Aboard Social, and a Baby Shower

It was the beginning of our third week in Algiers. We were looking forward to a few upcoming events. I almost felt like I was back in the states because I actually had a schedule conflict for the first time. Can you believe that? A schedule conflict already! We were slated to have an executive dinner on Monday, April 16^th, a welcome aboard social on Thursday, April 19^th, a group tour to the historic park in central Algiers (Jardin D’Essai), and a baby shower -  both on Friday, April 20^th.  Since the group tour would occur again during my stay here, I chose to attend the baby shower instead. That was sure to be an exciting week!

The structure of all United States Embassies across the world all run the same way. In order to maintain operational security, I will refrain from listing the names of each person currently holding the stated positions. At the very top you have the U.S. Ambassador. Below the Ambassador is the Deputy Chief of Mission (DCM). Then you have your Regional Security Officer (RSO). The RSO controls security not only on the compound, but off as well. This individual determines the safe and unsafe areas for DoD and DoS Americans to travel. As well, they decide which residences the DoS will have contracts with to house all Americans assigned to Algiers. Below the RSO is the Detachment Commander (DetCmdr). The DetCmdr is an active duty United States Marine. The DetCmdr is in charge of a detachment of up to six Marines assigned to this post. His job and that of his Marines are to protect all classified information belonging to the United States. Additionally, there are several other departments that make up the embassy. Ultimately they all follow the guideline set by the Ambassador and aim to meet his mission.

During the first two weeks Douglas and I had the opportunity to meet with several of the embassy staff. Every person has been friendly, welcoming, and very helpful. The DCM was especially nice and invited us over to her residence for dinner. We were thrilled! This was going to be our first executive dinner. The date was set for Monday, April 16^th at 6:30 p.m. To our advantage, the DCM’s home is so close to ours, I could toss a rock directly into one of her many back windows. I did not opt to do that simply to prove a point, but it was tempting.

I wasn’t quite sure what to wear for dinner. Merely from seeing the DCM a few times during my visits to the embassy, I could tell she was a sharp dresser. Every day her outfits upstaged the previous day’s selection. It seems like her purse, accessories, shoes and jewelry are all carefully chosen to coordinate properly with one another. She stands at almost 6 feet tall and is a true fashionista. I have my days where it looks like a stylist may have assisted me in putting my ensemble together, but then I also have days when it looks like I got assistance from “Plain Jane.” Sometimes it feels like a lot of work to look perfectly put together everywhere I go. That is a talent many women possess, but I’m not one of them. I looked in the closet and chose a pair of black slacks with a silky, colorful, short sleeved top that accentuated my bust line. Since it was pouring rain that day I went with my black 1¼-inch shoe boots and a white belted rain jacket that was starting to look too big for me. I accessorized with my trademark hoop earrings, necklace, watch and of course, my wedding rings. My husband walked in from work, grabbed a shirt and pair of khaki pants out the closet, ironed them and was ready to go. Sometimes I hate that men can start getting dressed far after us ladies, yet manage to be done before us with ample time to spare. And we’re still trying to decide which pair of shoes goes best with our outfit.

One minute later and we were inside the DCM’s private residence. Past the front door is a beautiful center way filled with plants, trees and gorgeous flowers. Douglas and I paused for a minute to determine which way to go to get to the front door. Fortunately, there was a man exiting one of the doors on the property, probably one of the local Algerians working at the embassy. The man was kind enough to guide us to the entrance of the home. We were greeted by the DCM’s husband. He took us to hang our wet jackets and umbrella inside the coat closet. As we were casually chatting the DCM entered the home. “Well hello. Can I join you all for dinner?” she said with a laugh. The DCM was just arriving home from work. The job of a DCM is almost always never done and free time is a far stretch of the imagination. Since she just walked in, she headed upstairs to get in some comfortable clothes and footwear. 

Everyone who knew we were going to the DCM’s house for dinner that evening informed us we would first start off with a tour of the house. They were correct. While the DCM was upstairs changing, her husband took Douglas and I on a tour around their home. It appeared as though we were in a castle. In order to preserve the privacy of their home and air on the side of caution, as to not breach any operational security, I will have to leave the description of their residence to your imagination. I can say that it’s large, historic, and picturesque. The architect responsible for the designs paid very close attention to each and every minute detail.

Before having dinner we started off the evening with a few appetizers and some casual conversation inside a large open-spaced room, conveniently arranged for gatherings. From talking with the DCM, I can immediately see that she is extremely smart, incredibly familiar with the inner workings of this compound and the Algerian society, and that she is quite genuine. She and her husband showed immense interest in getting to know Douglas and me. At moments she was at the edge of the sofa, leaning in to eagerly hear more about our stories. We were so comfortable, for a while we forgot we were sitting with the Deputy Chief of Mission for Algiers.

After thirty to forty minutes passed, we moved into the dining room to commence dinner. There are many perks to being the DCM. I think the best one is the luxury of having a personal chef. The cook was not present that evening, but he fixed the meal during the day and left instructions for how it should be prepared for serving. It was a three-course meal that was absolutely delicious. We started with turkey, mashed potatoes and grilled zucchini topped with a thin white sauce. Once we finished, salads were brought out. I could care less for salads that simply have lettuce, one cucumber and two slices of tomatoes. It’s so bare. This salad, on the other hand, was completely opposite. It was well put together with a good variety of vegetables. Lastly, dessert was served. The chef made vanilla custard with pureed strawberries poured on top. The dish was a perfect ending to a flawless meal.  Everything was scrumptious! If only it were tactful to bring a camera to an executive dinner and take pictures of each course. We would have been sure to be the topic of their bedtime discussion and not in a good way.

The four of us headed back into the previous room and chatted a bit before wrapping up the evening. It was getting late. Both Douglas and the DCM had to get up early the next day for work. The entire night was lovely; a great experience and a delightful meal. They made us feel exceedingly welcomed in their home and to the embassy. We gathered our belongings, praised them and the chef with our thanks, and said our good-byes. I would say our first executive dinner was a tremendous success.

The embassy community will take any event, big or small, and turn it into a party. It’s protocol to welcome the new Detachment Commander and his family to the embassy by holding a Welcome Aboard get-together on compound. Most events take place at the Marine Security Guard Residence (MSGR). All Marines at post, except for the DetCmdr, live together in this vast house. They have a significantly large space and fully equipped bar to host parties for a substantial number of people. The Marines did everything to organize and advertise for our Welcome Aboard. It was set to take place on Thursday, April 19^th at 6:30 p.m. We appreciated the gesture and were looking forward to meeting more embassy personnel.

To our advantage again, the MSGR was also a short walk from our residence. We dressed casually, as we didn’t know what to expect. We were the first ones to arrive. Sauntering into the MSGR, we noticed a sign-in book to keep a record of all guests in the house, a large red pool table, a fully stocked bar, and several sofas. It looks as though this residence was designed for such gatherings. Since Douglas and I were the only ones there, we began a game of pool. I have never played, but the game has always piqued my interest. Also, I figured because no one was around, I could play without publicly embarrassing myself. Douglas assembled the balls and set them up for me to take the break shot. Just from the way I held the pool stick, one could tell I was a newbie. It took me two tries for the pool stick to make contact with the cue ball and then three more tries for that ball to make sufficient contact with the rack. Douglas shook his head and was probably glad no one else was there to watch either. Surprisingly I knocked three object balls in the pockets and thought I was doing pretty well for my first time. Then Douglas shut me down by telling me that each ball I hit was solid and those belonged to him. I said, “What? You didn’t tell me we had on our own balls. No fair!” Douglas dropped his head and walked towards the door to greet our first guest.  

Over the next hour several people arrived and more were on the way. Alcohol, music, two pies of pizza and a lot of people; it definitely felt like a party. We had a blast! Even the DCM and Ambassador made an appearance to show their support. It was nice to see everyone outside the work environment and really get to see their true personalities. A little alcohol and music usually brings out the real side in us all. Douglas and I finessed our way through the crowd, making a point to speak to each person and thank them for coming. During my conversations, I received some terrific suggestions and tips. As I was speaking with one lady, our discussion transitioned from talking about her job at the embassy to helpful hints on ordering pork products. My eyes widened with excitement. Although I don’t care for pork, my husband loves it. I was taking mental notes just for him. The lady said there is a website called Virginia Traditions which sells an assortment of pork products. They carry a variety of smoked bacon, sausage patties and links, country and honey hams, pulled pork, pork roast, ribs, pork chops, beef brisket, turkey breast, crab cakes, oysters and even soups, nuts, and desserts. This was a one-stop shop for meat and sweet lovers all around. I could already envision the big smile on Douglas’ face as I listed the foods he would soon have available. She said this site was awesome because you can choose from uncooked and cooked products. Of course, we only want cooked items. Anything uncooked will go bad before it reaches us in Algiers. The lady said as long as we purchase items that are semi-perishable or non-perishable, then they would be fine upon arrival. We just need to refrigerate or freeze them right away. Perfect!

Before I could wrap my arms around the woman to give her a great big bear hug for sharing such valuable information with me, she started to ask me a question. Knowing the answer before she posed the question, the woman said, “Do you miss having the choice of buying cheddar cheese?” I thought to myself, “She is reading my mind!” The week prior I wanted to make macaroni and cheese. While shopping with my sponsor, Giovanna, she informed me that regular cheddar cheese is not sold in Algiers and proceeded to show me possible substitutes. However, someone told me many Americans use the shelved box of Velveeta cheese to make their baked macaroni. I absolutely hate the taste of Velveeta cheese. It’s overly processed and way too rich. I couldn’t imagine baking a macaroni dish with that. I quickly replied, “Yes, I wish I could find some fresh cheddar cheese.” She then told me there is a website called Cabot Cheese that sells an assortment of cheeses. Their products include cheddar cheeses consisting of smooth, sharp, extra sharp and seriously sharp. They also offer specialty cheese, reduced fat cheddar and flavored cheddar cheeses. It was a cheese lovers heaven. The woman continued to say that all these items can be ordered but only during the cool months. They will never make it once summer hits. Therefore, her timing was perfect. If I placed an order the following week, which I did, then our meat and cheeses should arrive safely without going bad or melting. This Welcome Aboard was off to a remarkable start, although I’m not sure the intention of the event was not for me to spend thirty minutes discussing tips on ordering my favorite types of meat and cheese.

The night was moving along nicely. I saw many familiar faces and met new ones too. I started chatting with the RSO about physical activities. One of the Marines had a P90X box on a table which led us discussing physical activity. The RSO then mentioned that Zumba was one of her favorite aerobic classes while living in the states. She got so good her teacher recommended she become an instructor. To the embassy's advantage, the RSO decided to follow through with that suggestion and will begin teaching Zumba classes once a week at the Community Recreation Center on compound. She also told me that another staff member teaches Yoga once a week in the evening and the woman is superb. The RSO said her classes are always crowded. I couldn’t believe it; the embassy had more fitness options besides the gym. I planned to attend both Yoga and Zumba starting the following week.

It was nearing 9:30 p.m. and most people had already left. There were a few individuals that lingered around the bar, but other than that the house was almost empty. After a few minutes the Marines lowered the music volume; subtle yet obvious hint that the event was over. The night came to an end around 10:00 p.m. I shared my new findings with Douglas and he was eager to get home and check out Virginia Traditions, of course. To no surprise, he didn’t convey as much excitement about the cheese. I may have spent the majority of time conversing about where to buy coveted food products and what new fitness classes were being held, but the Welcome Aboard was still a huge success and lots of fun. 

The next morning Douglas and I enjoyed the beauty of sleeping in, since it was the first day of the weekend. Although I don’t have to be somewhere by a specific time every morning as Douglas does, I still wake up with him to start my day. I have never been one to sleep late anyway. And even without having a job, there is no way I could allow my body to sleep the entire morning, simply wasting my time. But I look forward to the weekend when I can just curl up in the bed with my husband to play, laugh, and talk, amongst other things, and enjoy his company. That is indeed the best part of my days - waking up and falling asleep beside him.

We have not come up with a normal weekend routine yet because thankfully each weekend we have had different things to do. That afternoon I had plans to go to a baby shower, while Douglas was going to work. One of the ladies working at the embassy is due to give birth next month. Her name is Dalila. She is both Algerian and American. Dalila grew up in Algiers, but also has family in the states. She has two other children, but both were born in the U.S. This would be her first child born in Algiers. Unlike Americans, Algerians do not celebrate the expectancy of a baby by throwing a baby shower. Therefore, it was a surprise to Dalila’s local Algerian friends working at the embassy when they heard she was having a baby shower that would be given by her Italian friend, Giovanna. Since Giovanna is my sponsor and befriended me upon arrival, she introduced me to several of her friends, including Dalila. We had lunch a few times and hit it off. She is a very genuine person, and we both enjoy each other’s company. After a few meetings, Dalila asked Giovanna to invite me the baby shower. I was honored, as we just met and the baby shower was only for her close friends. That was very kind of her and it gave me something else to look forward to that weekend.

The baby shower was being held at Giovanna’s house, a few minutes away from the compound. It started at 1:00 p.m. After Douglas and I got in plenty of quality time with each other and ate breakfast, I went to get dressed for the shower. This baby shower would be different than any that I attended in the states. Giovanna decided to give the shower a “Sex and the City” theme. On the invitation she requested that everyone wear their best dress or dress accordingly. What a great idea! It was original and took away the monotony found in most baby showers. Fortunately, I packed a couple dresses in my suitcase just in case an event like this came up. I didn’t expect to wear it to a baby shower, but that is the beauty in always being prepared for the unexpected. I slipped on my floral-printed turquoise, black and white summer dress, covered up my arms with a short sleeved black cardigan and completed the outfit with three-inch black, peep toe pair of shoes.

I was the first one to arrive at Giovanna’s house. Everything looked beautiful - the decorations, mixture of food, and entire set-up. Giovanna spent months preparing for it by ordering all the necessary items online. She even brought back a special parmesan cheese from her visit to Rome the week prior. After a few minutes people began to arrive. All the ladies looked fabulous in their outfits. Undoubtedly, Dalila looked the best. She had on a gorgeous, long black dress with her small baby bump and pregnancy breast as accessories. As she entered the room we showered her with compliments. On her way over, Dalila was careful to cover herself appropriately. It’s not normal for women to expose so much of their breast, or any part of their body for that matter, especially on their holy day. It was Friday during the time of prayer. 

 

Dalila was astonished to see the arrangements. Giovanna outdid herself. Even though the shower was for a small group, you could not tell from the large spread of food. We all had a good time while eating, playing games, socializing, and celebrating Dalila’s expectancy. As always, I was curious to know more about Algerian traditions. I asked if Algerians do anything to celebrate pregnancies. Dalila said in the Algerian culture they throw a huge party for the baby after it is born. It usually occurs three to four weeks after giving birth. She said all the plans are made prior to the baby arriving, because the mother has no time to prepare anything once the child is here. Dalila said the event is so big that typically it’s held in a ballroom or similar sized venue. All family members, friends, and the community are invited to attend. She also mentioned another customary tradition regarding children. If an Algerian has a baby boy, the mother does not have him circumcised right away at the hospital, as we typically do in America. The circumcision is also celebrated by throwing a large party. The family members sing and dance while the boy is being circumcised in another room. And it usually does not happen during the newborn stage. It was very interesting to hear the difference in their customs and traditions surrounding the birth of a baby and days to follow. The conversation could have continued further but it was time to open gifts.

Dalila received several gifts including toys, clothes, and even a large diaper cake. She was exceptionally pleased with the event and couldn’t wait to share pictures with her family and friends. Three hours flew by and before we knew it the baby shower was coming to an end. I thanked Dalila and Giovanna again for including me at the last minute. It was such a treat. And the “Sex and the City” theme was fantastic. I’m sure that will tickle the fancy of a few friends back home that are major “Sex and the City” fans or just love to have another reason to dress up. I phoned a driver to pick me up and returned home to spend the remainder of the day with Douglas.

My third week in Algiers was now over. It was pleasantly filled with great people, loads of entertainment, excellent discoveries, and enlightening experiences as always. Each day is an adventure; or rather, I will make an adventure out of each day.   

A New Perspective

The alarm clock blares - beep, beep, beep…it's 5:50 a.m. My eyes are hardly open but I know exactly where my alarm clock is placed. I reach my arms from underneath the covers and hit the clock several times before I manage to actually hit the snooze button. I place my hands back underneath the sheets and curl up, hoping that the next five minutes will feel more like fifteen. But five minutes later the alarm clock sounds again…beep, beep, beep…it is 5:55 a.m. I need to get out of bed, but I just don’t feel like it. I don’t necessarily have to be out of the house by 7:30 a.m.; I think I’ll sleep a little longer. I hit the snooze button again to try and capture five more minutes of sleep. Yesterday was exhausting. I just need a few more minutes. And this bed is incredibly comfortable. It feels like a magnet that will not let me loose. I roll over and place my head back onto the soft, plush pillow, hoping to tune out everything including that annoying alarm after sound. Already it’s 6:00 a.m. and I the alarm sounds again…beep, beep, beep. I hit the alarm for the last time and turn it off so that it doesn’t beep again. I rub my eyes while yawning, as my mouth opens as wide as possible. I stretch and nearly five minutes later, I make my way out of bed.

In Algiers I no longer have an alarm to wake up to, as I have no need to be up by a specific time. Naturally I’m a morning person, so I’m usually up by 7:00 a.m. It feels different to wake up without having a specific place to go that day. It’s not until you no longer have anything precise to wake up for, when you will then miss what you once woke up for every day.

I now wake up to the sounds of my husband's alarm set on his cell phone. We cannot use an alarm clock here, as the clocks are incapable of keeping time due to the different voltage. It’s recommended to use a battery operated clock instead.

I head to the bathroom and begin my morning routine. Wash my face, take a shower or freshen up, brush my teeth while running the sink water, and then remove by bedtime scarf from my head. Next, I enter the closet to choose my clothing for the day. I was too tired to prepare my outfit the night before. Depending on my mood that morning, I will stand in my closet for several minutes considering a few things such as:  what doesn’t need to be ironed, what doesn’t require me to wear stockings or some sort of tight undergarment, what doesn’t require me to where obsessively high heel shoes, what doesn’t require too much coordination of accessories and most importantly, what does make me look 10 pounds slimmer than I did yesterday. On the other hand, if I wake up feeling great and full of energy, I usually choose an outfit that has lots of bright color, nicely fitted to accentuate my curves, and coordinating accessories and shoes that will put the finishing touches on my ensemble.  

In Algiers when I get out of bed to begin my morning routine, it is not all done inside the bathroom. I start out there to brush my teeth. Only I cannot use the water as easily as I did in the states. I must keep a filtered bottle of water by every sink to rinse my mouth with and clean my toothbrush after brushing. The water in Algiers is not safe to consume. Also, due to the harshness of the water it can have adverse reactions on your skin. Therefore, I go to the kitchen sink, boil some water and then place it in a bowl with cold filtered water and begin to wash my face. I have been told the water here can damage your skin, hair, and clothes. Since I used to have severe skin problems, I choose to air on the side of caution and only wash my face with filtered water to avoid possibly breaking out. In addition, before I left the states I purchased a filtered shower head to try and ensure that some type of purified water goes onto my skin and hair.

The water can also be a huge concern for parents with young children. Most kids love to take baths and play in the tub. During this time children often place their heads into the water and usually get some in their mouths. Parents must be sure to teach the children not to stick their tongue in the water and definitely not to swallow any. It’s pretty easy to explain to a first grader, but a little more difficult to convey to a two year old.

Many Algerians cannot afford a large wardrobe selection. Despite Algeria being a very rich country, most Algerians do not partake of that wealth. Algiers is a poor city in appearance. A closet for most of us in the states could dress an entire family here in Algiers. Also, women do not obsess with tight-fitting clothing. They usually wear something that is far less clingy, yet still beautiful. Several Algerian women have a great natural style.

I get dressed and go into the kitchen to make breakfast, which is my favorite meal of the day; however, many others do not feel the same way. Some people simply prepare a quick meal, or choose to eat something already packaged, such as a sweet pop-tart or calorie-packed muffin. Then there are others that will spend much of their money at their favorite deli or fast food restaurant to order crispy bacon or sausage, pancakes or french toast, scrambled eggs and potatoes, or a sandwich with many of these ingredients on it, as well as their favorite slice of cheese.  I opt to prepare my own breakfast. I enjoy a variety of things like a nice bowl of cereal, a side of toast with strawberry preserve, an omelet filled with spinach, bell peppers, turkey bacon and cheese, pancakes with pure maple syrup, bacon and cheese sandwich, creamy grits or a bowl of oatmeal, or a yogurt parfait with my favorite granola. There are so many options, and I can choose any that are to my liking. While eating I wash the meal of my choice down with a large glass of water and a small glass of Simply Orange Juice.  

Algerians rarely have such items in their pantries as the “so called” breakfast items we keep in our cabinets in the states. They do not go out to breakfast nearly as much, but may stop at the bakery store to purchase croissants or other types of breads. They eat pretty small portion sizes and most of the food in this city is quite lean. Their modified eating habits are the reason you will rarely find overweight children and adults in this city. Although, Algiers has a few bad habits to address. They love sweets so much that many of their specialty dishes or even pasta sauces are loaded with sugar. There is a high percentage of diabetics throughout the city.  

Algiers produces a large quantity of produce. It can easily be considered organic. Most of the fruits and vegetables are extremely ripe, juicy and fresh. Upon tasting it you can tell the difference from the fruit in certain parts of the states. The produce is even significantly cheaper than many places in the states too. The only downside about the produce is its lack of cleanliness. All fruits and vegetables must be cleaned thoroughly before consumption. Some people used a tablespoon of bleach solution, others will peel all skinned produce before consuming, and many will simply soak and rinse the produce with filtered water.  I can recall grocery shopping in the states and watching people eat un-rinsed grapes right in the store.

After eating I go back into the bathroom to plug in whichever electrical appliance I decide to use on my hair that morning. Then I place lotion on my face and maybe a hint of foundation to cover up one or two blemish marks. I’m not a huge makeup fan, but I know many who love to cake it on with various types of foundation, powder, bronzer, blush, mascara, eye shadow, glitter, and loud lipstick. Some do it for the fun of playing with make-up and others do it to hide their natural beauty that they don’t consider to be beautiful at all. Nonetheless, it’s a choice we have as individuals. I wrap everything up, gather my materials for work and take off for another eventful day.

In order to use any electrical appliances, I must plug them into a surge protector. That surge protector then has to be plugged into a transformer box to convert the voltage. The transformer box is then plugged into the wall. Upon arriving we plugged an electrical device straight into the transformer and turned it on. As soon as we did this, the appliance blew and it was destroyed. It feels odd to live in another country and not be able to use your everyday appliances or devices like you normally would in the states.

Women do not wear makeup in public. There are many reasons for this, but overall, makeup is seen as something to make you more attractive. In the Muslim faith that is looked down upon. This is also the reason why many Muslim women choose to wear a Hijab, which is a piece of cloth that covers their head and/or body. Some believe that make-up and the showing of your hair should only be done for your husband as he should be the one man you attract. Wearing a Hijab is of personal preference, but generally all Muslim women believe in the same concept that any highlights to their natural beauty should be done in private. It’s a great way to ensure that a man is mainly interested in you for qualities like ideas, attitudes, knowledge, personality and skills. As well, it’s a great self-esteem builder. I find it to be a very admirable way of life.   

I live in an area where a car is a necessity, opposed to other cities I’ve resided in that provide excellent or even sufficient forms of public transportation. I drove fifteen or twenty minutes to work every day. Thankfully I was no longer forced to deal with the headache of one or two hour commutes to work each way, as I did when living in New York, California, and Maryland.

There is a public transportation system in Algiers; however, it is not very ideal. Most buses do not keep a specific schedule. Driving leaves much to be desired as there are usually heavy amounts of traffic. The driving out here is extremely reckless and dangerous. Algiers has one of the highest rates of deaths caused by car accidents in the world. I would much rather drive amongst the aggressive New Yorkers or patiently deal with the constant L.A. traffic. Just when you think your situation is bad, you go somewhere else like Algeria and realize how good you had it.

Overall, I enjoyed my last job. I worked with a great group of people, I liked putting together various services to provide to others, I looked forward to creating new ideas for future events, I had fun hanging out with some of them on and off work, and I rarely watched the clock to count down the number of minutes left in my day. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel like that at every job I held. Sometimes I would arrive to work and already feel like I wanted to return home and go to bed. Over the course of the day I would chit-chat with fellow co-workers, work on my assigned tasks, prepare items for future projects, have lunch with co-workers – a few of which I didn’t like, but tolerated out of respect and then wrapped up any loose items to tackle again the next day. During much of those days I spent the majority of time thinking about how unhappy I was in that job, how I didn’t like the way I was being treated, what better things I could have been doing with my time, what other jobs I could apply for, or daydream about what things I loved to do but would probably never come to fruition.  

Way too often we get complacent in our current job fields. Most Algerians are very happy to have a job due to the increasing unemployment rate. Americans should feel the same way, as our unemployment rate is still on the rise. Often we find ourselves so unhappy in our current job that it leads us to be ungrateful for even having a job in the first place. I say, if you’re not happy then get out of the seat so that someone else who needs and wants the job can fill it with a smile. A few jobs later and I finally get that concept. If we don’t like the position we are in, then it’s up to us to change it and find happiness or we can choose to stay in it and forever complain. No matter what, in the end, it’s a choice that we make.

When the work day ended I went back to my vehicle and either drove home or stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few items for dinner. Regardless of what I wanted, I could usually find the item at one of the nearby stores. I would then go into my pantry and select from my many options to fix a meal. After dinner I could choose a dessert to my liking or go out to purchase whatever I desired. Later I would take advantage of some down time and hang out with my husband. Like many other families we would scan the hundreds of channels on the television to find a good show or movie to watch.

Now, when my husband gets off work he does not have the option of going to the store on the way home. For one he walks to work every day. Two, he and I must request drivers to go anywhere. Most of the time he gets off too late to have a driver take us shopping. Also, it is not recommended for me to go anywhere alone. Therefore, if I want to go to the grocery store I should have my husband with me or another embassy staff member. In many ways this takes away a certain part of our freedom. However, the rule is in place for our safety so I cannot argue with it all. It simply makes me miss the thrill of getting in my own car, to drive by myself, anywhere I wanted.

There are very few American products in Algiers. Several of their products that are similar lack nearly the same quality or taste. As well, there are many items that I used on a regular basis in the states that are not available here. Items such as vanilla extract, cheddar cheese, almond or soy milk, good food sauces (bbq, teriyaki, marinades, etc.), breakfast meat, pork (my husband’s favorite), cream cheese, syrup, grits, quality paper towels, good detergent or toilet tissue, and so much more. Some days it’s hard to go into the kitchen or closet and not have my “everyday” items available.

Simple things like turning on the television and surfing channels are all items of luxury. It may not feel like it while you have access to it, but when you no longer have the option you begin to realize just how privileged you were. We have AFN (Armed Forces Network) which consists of approximately nine channels. We don’t have access to much, nor do many Algerians have access to the large array of channels that we did in the states. As children and adults, think of how often you sit down to watch TV or play video games but a few minutes later you say you have nothing to do. Think of how often we treat these devices as necessities in our lives, when actually they are items of indulgence that we are privileged to have.  

Depending on what kind of day I had I would either exercise that evening or put it off until the next day, hoping to actually follow through with the commitment I made to myself that I would make time to exercise every evening. I would then take a nice long shower to relax my mind and body. Afterwards, I would run the sink water while brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth. I would then lotion up with my favorite body product. I climbed into bed and finally laid my head to rest before I had to wake up again and repeat the day.

Many Algerians are in great shape because they exercise often while performing everyday tasks. Algiers is comprised of significantly steep hills, rocky roads, and sundry steps throughout the city. Although there are numerous cars on the road, there are still many people that do not drive. It is not abnormal to see people walk to and from work, or back and forth to the grocery store every day. Most of us have the comfort of riding in our cars or on public transportation, yet cannot make time in the day for thirty minutes of exercise. Being around this I quickly realized my body is capable of doing much more than I allow it to do.  

Living in a third world country may not be the most sought after place to go or have the best conditions to withstand. Nonetheless, I believe there is beauty to be found in this place. I am certain to discover that unique upside in the daily lessons I learn here. In turn those lessons will give me a greater appreciation for what I once had in the states and will have when I return. I also believe the beauty will come from the stories I share through this blog with family and friends back in the states and with those individuals across the world.

You may not be able to live this lifestyle with me, but there is no way you can read the entries, hear the stories, learn about the lifestyle and customs and not think twice about certain things in your own life as you do them. That very moment you think twice is when you will discover the appreciation of turning on your faucet and having clean water to consume. It is when you will find much joy in freely washing your face, body, and hair without concern of any harsh water causing damage to your body. It is when you will value the freedom of moving about as you choose without any limitations. It is when you will be thankful for the cable TV, Play Station, or Wii that is hooked up in your room. It is when you will be glad to drive on the roads that you complain about every day without great anxiety of reckless drivers passing you by every minute or having to tackle a numerous number of blind curves during your regular outings. It is when you will be thankful for every high quality food product and household good item that you purchase in the store. It is when you will be grateful for the portion of food on your plate and not be so eager to return for more. It is when you will appreciate the fruit you consume without ever thinking twice to wash it first. It is when you will look in the mirror and know that you are beautiful before you layer on the make-up, squeeze into the tight pants, or leave your breasts exposed because you consider them accessories. It is when you will decide to make time to exercise every day because you know the commute to your job was no workout at all. It is when we will wake up before our alarm clock in the morning feeling thankful for a new day and knowing that it will be great because of all the options we have to choose from.

Yes, when we think twice we will grow a greater appreciation of all the resources surrounding us, and begin fulfilling the undiscovered potential within us. We’ll then realize that we don’t have as many limitations as we once thought. And we’ll see that our lifestyle is quite luxurious after all.

A situation is only as bad as we allow it to be. When you wake up tomorrow morning, hit your alarm, get out of bed and make it a great day, because your possibilities are endless.

Water And The Maintenance Man

The rain has been coming down continuously for the past few days. There have been several thunderstorms and frequent strikes of lightning. Usually when it rains I like to stay home. It seems to be a perfect time to curl up in bed and watch a movie, read a book or do some writing. I dread having to go outside in such weather. Therefore, when Douglas received an email that our tour this weekend was cancelled, I wasn’t overly disappointed.

A couple of weeks ago, Douglas and I signed up for a tour being given by the Community Liaison Officer at the embassy. The tour was called “Like an Algerois” and it was being held on Friday, April 13th. I was looking forward to visiting my first historic place in Algiers – Jardin d’Essais. I’ve been told this is a beautiful garden to see. However, we would not see it on Friday as planned. The trip was postponed because the former Algerian president, Ahmed Benbella, died and his funeral was taking place that same morning. It was going to be held in the People’s Palace which is located in Central Algiers. Jardin d’Essais is also located in that same area. Due to the expectancy of high traffic within that vicinity, the tour was postponed. That Friday it rained incessantly so even if the funeral hadn’t taken place that day, the tour would have still been cancelled.

Locals have said that ordinarily it does not rain this much in April. Typically the weather is very nice, warm and quite sunny outside around this time of year. Nevertheless we’ll have to bear with the rain for the remainder of this week. The weather forecast predicts more showers over the next several days. Between the city's consistent downpours and our leaky pipes – water has not been our friend lately.

Lately I have been doing laundry in the evening opposed to doing it in the mid-day as I did while living in South Carolina. Since my time is completely flexible now, I don’t feel the need to stick to such a rigid schedule. Last weekend in the late evening, I placed a load of clothes into the washing machine. Meanwhile, I lied down with Douglas to watch a movie and wound up falling asleep.  When I woke up the next morning I went about my day as usual. Since it was the last day of the weekend I washed and styled my hair, which is at minimum a three hour process. It wasn’t until the early afternoon when I remembered the load of laundry that I had placed into the washing machine the night before. I quickly walked over to the machine, knowing that I would probably have to run the cycle again since the clothes had sat in there all night. I opened the door and was astounded as I set my now wet slipper into a large pool of water. All the water in that load leaked out onto the floor. Fortunately, none of the water escaped the room, but it was a huge mess to clean up. We must have used at least four of our large towels to try and soak up all that water and then squeezed those towels into a green bucket that happened to be in the room. It was too bad the room didn’t also have a mop available. We had a limited number of resources accessible to us. After we wiped up as much water as we could with those towels, Douglas proceeded to call the duty plumber for assistance. Within an hour we heard a loud knock on our door.  

The duty plumber that arrived was a local Algerian who spoke a tad of English. Thankfully we didn’t have to say much to explain the problem. We simply walked him inside the room and pointed to the many towels on the floor. He said, “Okay, I fix.” Those were enough English words for me to be satisfied and go take a seat on the sofa without having to pull out my French / English Translation Dictionary to try and further explain the problem. A few minutes went by while Douglas and I sat on the sofa directly across from the laundry room. We both began to hear very odd noises coming from the room. It was the plumber breathing excessively hard. We looked at each other with an awkward stare wondering why he was making such sounds. Then it got louder. One would have thought he was in there with a woman having some rough mid-day fun on top of the washing machine. Douglas was not facing the room; however, I was. Douglas asked, “What is he doing in there?” I confusingly replied, “I have no idea!” Douglas then said, “Can you see him? Is he sweating?” I said, “No, and I’m not going in there to look either.” That could have very well been how an Algerian sounds when performing labor. Who knows? I personally didn’t think it required that much effort or loud panting to do such a task. But then again, I have never fixed a leaky washing machine. Douglas and I chuckled inside like two school children would if they happened to overhear someone having sex in the next bedroom. Some things do not change as you get older.

We continued on with our conversations, while still giving each other a raised eyebrow every time we heard more suspicious groans. The man finally exited the room. As he placed his thumb up he said, “Finished!” We smiled and said, “Great!” The man began to take his forearm and wipe the dripping sweat from his forehead. He was really sweating - quite profusely too. Douglas and I both looked at each other with a slight smirk, thinking, “Man, who knew fixing a leak required that much exertion of energy.” The nice man then showed us that he even ran a new load of laundry, consisting of all our wet towels that were on the floor. How considerate. He then gathered up his belongings and left, still breathing intensely. I went back to the laundry room and put our things back in its prospective place. Something told me to open the washing machine and to no surprise the man didn’t put any soap inside the machine.  Nonetheless, it was still very thoughtful of him. That may be another Algerian practice that we Americans are very unfamiliar with. I’ll take my laundry with soap, please!

 

As if one leak was not enough, we were faced with another wet situation this weekend. The tap water in Algiers is not declared safe to consume. Apparently it can cause an upset stomach or even food poisoning. As a rule of thumb, Americans are discouraged to consume any water that is not filtered or does not come from a bottle. Therefore, all residences belonging to the Department of State have some type of water purification system inside each home. Most people have a large square silver box that sits on their countertop. Our residence was recently remodeled before we arrived and the purification box was removed. It was replaced with a water filtration system that is located underneath our kitchen sink. One of the advantages to this new system is that it takes up significantly less space than that of the large container that was previously here.

Since our trip to Jardin d’Essai was cancelled Friday I decided to do some house cleaning. I opened the cabinets beneath the sink to get a couple garbage bags to replace the already full ones we had in both the kitchen and bathroom. I was shocked to find a wet box of plastic bags. I placed the soaked box on the floor and began to remove more items, as I tried to see what else had been saturated. I then noticed that everything on the right side in the cabinet was sitting in a puddle of water. I immediately removed everything under the sink and snatched a few dish towels from the counter to absorb the water. We couldn’t help but think that time was repeating itself in less than a week. Douglas discovered that our water filtration system had a leak in it. Evidently, every time we turned on the pipe attached to the system, water began to drip out. This must have been occurring over a period of time since our arrival because the wood on the right side of the cabinet floor was extremely dark.  We knew exactly who we needed to call. The duty plumber’s number was still fresh at the top of our recently called list. Douglas phoned him and asked if someone could come over to fix this problem. We hoped that someone would be available, even though it was the weekend. The gentleman on the phone kindly said, “Someone will be out there at 2:30 p.m.”

Outside of my kitchen window you can see everyone as they approach the house or as they linger around the property. Unfortunately, this same view allows anyone from outside, to look directly into my kitchen window, and freely view inside. We’re working towards getting some curtains put up over those windows and the ones in the bathroom too. It feels especially awkward at night when you have the lights on and you cannot clearly see outside to know whether or not someone is possibly observing you. At least during the day, I can clearly tell if a person is there.

While peering at the rain, still strongly, coming down, I spotted a man walking towards our stairway. At first I didn’t think he was the duty plumber because he was not carrying any kind of tool kit. But the man proceeded to knock on our door. “Bonjour Madame, comment ca va?” he said kindly. I replied, “Bonjour. Ca va bien, merci. Et vous?” My French lessons are paying off. I felt proud that I had learned how to properly greet people in French. Then the man began to say a long sentence in French that I could not make out. This is the only down side to using a proper French greeting; the people then assume you are fluent. With a smile I said, “Je parle un peu Francais. Je suis Americaine. Je parle anglais.” (I speak a little French. I am American. I speak English.) That was clearly enough for the man to recognize he needed to take it back to the basics for me.

I guided him into our kitchen. Douglas explained what happened and where he thought the leak was coming from. The man looked at the sink, glanced at the open cabinets beneath the sink, and replied, “You have a leak. The plumber will be out a little later to fix it.” Douglas and I looked at each with those same raised eyebrows that we had when the previous man came and made strange breathing sounds while repairing our leaky washing machine. The man repeated himself and followed by saying, “Okay?” We simply replied, “okay,” as we walked him to the door. This was very odd to us because all he did was walk into our home and tell us what we already knew. I’m not sure how much he gets paid, but I’m positive that the government is wasting their money on his services.

About ninety minutes later, there was another knock at the door. This time we were relaxing on the sofa so I did not get to see the person as they approached our home. We were only hopeful that this would be the actual duty plumber and he would have some sort of tool bag on him. Douglas opened the door and to our relief he did have a small tool bag in his hands. We then brought him into the kitchen, explained the situation and Douglas even showed him where the source of the leak. The man then turned on our filtration faucet, got down on the floor to go underneath the sink, felt the water dripping out, and then just a few minutes later, got back up to say, “Yes, there is a leak. I will have someone come tomorrow to fix the problem.” We thought to ourselves, “Uh…What?”

Just like the previous man, he repeated what he originally said as if we couldn’t understand his broken English. The language barrier was not the problem. The lack of plumbing skills on this compound was the problem. Within three hours, two “so called” plumbers had visited our home to merely tell us what we initially phoned about - that there is a leak underneath our sink. Really, Sherlock?! If those are the only skills required to be a plumber then pass me the application. I will be perfect. I too can access the obvious.

The man clutched his bag that I now assumed only had his lunch inside, along with a flash light and a toy screwdriver, and exited our home while kindly saying, “Bonjour.” Good day to you too, Mr. Plumber. Douglas and I were now thoroughly confused. As my husband would describe this situation, “The site survey person first came out to verify that we had a kitchen and a sink. Then the confirmation man came out to check that the site survey person had properly done their job before he could approve our leak for repair by the actual duty plumber.” Come on people!

The next day, after finishing my French lesson at the embassy, I hurried back home in order to not miss the notorious duty plumber that was to come fix our leak. Usually when you place a maintenance request the person will let you know what day they’re coming out and give you an approximate time frame. Not here. They simply show up. And if you’re not home then you just have to wait until they show up again, either later that day or the next day. Hmm…it seems to make more sense to purely plan a time with me upfront to ensure that I will be home, rather than play the game of, “knock, knock, anyone there?” I guess they just assume I have no job and nothing to do. Granted, I don’t have a job and no, I don’t have much to do outside of the house, but a little common courtesy would be appreciated, that’s all. 

I was back home by 11:30 a.m. My gut instinct told me that most likely no one had stopped by my place while I was gone. A couple hours passed and still no plumber. I called Douglas at work to ask if he could phone the duty plumber to remind them about our leaky faucet that needed repair. Within the next hour I had a knock on my door. I’m very happy that I am someone who will follow-up on things, opposed to simply hoping an individual will actually keep their word or even do their job. Obviously, had I not told Douglas that no one showed up yet and for him to call them again, I would still be sitting here waiting for the mysterious plumber. I went to answer the door hoping that this would be the official duty plumber. I opened the door and had not been happier to see the heavily panting man that had previously been to our home to fix the washing machine. He even had his trusty sidekick with him, also known as his assistant.

The plumber remembered that I spoke a little French. He greeted me as he did before and I replied with the few French words that I knew. I was happy to see that he had a large tool bag in his hand. I even saw a long orange cord hanging out of it. I thought to myself, “Yes, I may actually be able to use my filtered water after he leaves and have a drink.” I then walked him and his assistant into the kitchen and described the situation. I do not think they understood anything I said, because he speaks even less English than I do French. But I assumed the other two people that were previously here the day before, thoroughly informed him about the situation. I mean that is the least they could do after leaving here and not fixing anything.

The man turned on the faucet and then turned it off. He then went underneath the sink for about a minute and came right back up. He turned the water off and on again. He then observed some spilled water to the right side of the sink, where I keep a dish rack for all my freshly washed dishes to dry. He looked at me and tried to elucidate that the water was spilling out of the side of the sink by my dish rack. He said someone would come tomorrow and glue the silver lining around the edge of the sink to prevent future leakage. By no means did he say it that clearly; however, after a lot of pointing and more questions, I gathered that is what he meant. Now, I’m definitely not a plumber and albeit, I’m not too sharp when it comes to fixing things in the house, but I did know that the water dripping from underneath my sink was not simply coming from the silver lining that goes around my sink. All I could picture was another person coming into my home tomorrow to tell me the same thing. I said, “No. That is not the problem. The problem is underneath the sink.” I guided him towards where my hand was under the sink and looked at him firmly in hopes that he would understand what I was saying. 

The man then got on the floor and went back under the sink to simply discover that the American woman was right and there is a leak underneath her sink.  He stayed down there for several minutes (with a few heavy moans) and fixed the leak. He then got up and turned on the faucet to ensure it was working properly. I was relieved that the sink was fixed and we would now be able to have fresh water. He then told me that someone would be back tomorrow afternoon to seal the lining around the sink. I’m convinced these gentlemen would rather spend more time and effort fixing something that is not broke, rather than essentially fixing something that is actually broken. Not my job, not their boss, not my concern. I was happy the leak was finally repaired. The gentleman left and said, “See you tomorrow.”

Later than evening I started to fix dinner. I was making a scrumptious baked spaghetti. When I went to fill up the pot with water from the filtration faucet I wondered if the man truly fixed the leak. Although there was no longer any dripping when he tested it, I felt the need to double check. I glanced beneath the sink as the water poured into my pot and I couldn't believe that the small puddle of water that was beginning to form. That man and his not so handy sidekick did no more than the prior two men that came to the house. Back to the drawing board. Now I must wait until the man returns tomorrow for him to attempt to stop the drip yet again. 
After two leaks within a week, and one that is still unrepaired, I could only hope that we would soon be done with water problems for awhile.

To our misfortune, I spoke too soon. The substantial amount of rain that fell over the past few days caused water damage to a corner of our living room ceiling. There are a couple of fairly large water spots that are slowly spreading across this small area of the ceiling. I noticed it last night while lying on the sofa reading a suspense novel - “The Neighbor” by Lisa Gardner. This book is a page turner for sure. I was sitting in that position for a lengthy amount of time, so I took a break to stretch my back. As I reached my arms behind my head and tilted my head up, I was astonished to see brown stains on my ceiling. I thought to myself, "Here we go again." Inconveniently, the damage is located directly above our telephone, computer modems, and other electrical devices. I immediately moved each piece of equipment to another location. Douglas also followed by quickly placing a service request. 

This undoubtedly means that we will likely meet up with our infamous duty plumber again for another repair. I surmise that he may be the all-around maintenance man for the compound. I can only hope that if the duty plumber does get assigned to this job, he doesn’t take the same nonchalant approach to our ceiling as he did to our kitchen sink. I personally think he did a much better job while producing heavy moans and groans as he worked. Hey, whatever gets the job done is fine by me. Now we wait for someone to fix both our perfectly fine silver lined tile around the sink, along with our "supposedly fixed" water leak, and our water damaged ceiling. When it rains, it pours! My only request is, "May I get a certified maintenance man?

A picture of our water damaged ceiling

Weekly Dinner Club at El Aurassi Hotel - Algiers

Earlier this week Douglas and I received an invitation to attend the weekly dinner club with a group of people who work at the embassy. The dinner location is selected and organized by a gentleman who has been in Algeria for about six months. Every week he picks a different restaurant and then sends a mass email out to the embassy staff. He kindly requested that anyone who would like to participate reply immediately. Since the event has become so popular there is a limit of twelve people who can attend. This week’s dining choice was at El Aurassi Hotel – Algiers. Without hesitation I told Douglas to reply letting him know we would love to attend.

I want to take advantage of every opportunity I have to explore this city, whether it’s with my husband, a group tour or with friends. Despite the fact that we are in a country that was not of our choosing, nor is it an ideal place to live, I do believe that every place has something to offer that may enhance your life in some capacity. But the key is you have to be open-minded to see it or else it will pass you by and you’ll be left always thinking that nothing was ever there.

Wednesday arrived, and I was so excited. The day started off slow since my French lessons were cancelled for the morning. My teacher was feeling very ill and decided to go home. As much as I was looking forward to learning more French that day, I am glad she didn’t try to stay and fight her sickness. Germs can easily be transferred and the last thing I wanted to do was become sick. I was already working hard at not getting the “Algerian Stomach Flu,” also known as food poisoning.

I spent most of the day entertaining the maintenance crew as they came in and out of my home to address various repairs. I also attended training for family members held at the embassy and then caught up on replying to several emails and visiting my husband in his office. Before I knew it the afternoon had flown by, and it was time to get ready to meet the group for dinner. I got so caught up in the day I forgot to eat lunch. By now it was 5 p.m. and the group was scheduled to meet at 6:30 p.m. I was going to just fight the growling sound coming from my stomach, but Douglas firmly told me that I was to go home and eat something. After a few back of forth replies of me saying, “No, I don’t want to.” Douglas replies, “Would you go home and get something to eat please?” I said, “No, I think I can hold out until dinner.” He replies, “Your eyes are red and you look like you’re about to pass out.” Finally I say, “Fine, I’ll go get something to eat.” Although I was being stubborn, I knew he was right.

After the extremely short two minute walk it took me to go home I looked in my refrigerator to see what I could put together very quickly. Nothing felt like it called my name. Then I remembered that we received a package earlier in the day. One of the items in the package was my gluten free Pamela’s Pancake Mix. I had been waiting weeks for it to get here and was eager to have those delicious pancakes. However, I pondered whether or not this was a good idea because I knew we were about to meet up with the group in less than an hour. After mentally having another back and forth conversation with myself, I was convinced that pancakes would be okay because it would most likely be almost 8 p.m. by the time we received our dinner. I quickly whipped up a batch of my favorite pancake mix, pulled out my syrup and finally quieted the rumbling sound coming from my stomach every five minutes. I was full and satisfied.

Soon after Douglas got home we went back out to meet the group in front of the embassy. We were both so excited about the new experience we were going to have. Douglas was especially excited because he hasn’t had much opportunity to get off compound as I have over the past three weeks. This was sure to be a grand time for us both. After twenty minutes passed the entire group was present and we were all ready to get this evening started.

The drive was not very long and fortunately there wasn’t much traffic. Rush hour was over since it was after 7 p.m. There were pockets of congestion, but it was nothing that affected our travel. The van turned into an open-gated entrance and drove up a hill surrounded by a range of beautiful trees. Immediately following was one of the most beautiful hotels I had ever seen. El Aurassi is a five star hotel that could easily be a 5 star resort.  It was a perfect place to take pictures. Douglas and I took a few directly in front of the hotel sign, slightly capturing the waters of the Mediterranean Sea in the background. Time started to get away from us and we were called to join the rest of the group. We entered the large revolving doorway - that without difficulty could fit seven or eight people in each section. The first thing we had to do was go through a security check. It was similar to that of an airport. First all bags were required to be placed on the belt for screening. Then we had to empty our pockets of everything; including jewelry, cell phones and keys. Afterwards we simply walked through the metal detector and now had full ability to explore the significantly large hotel.

El Aurassi is located in the center of Algiers and towers above the city. I was informed that the hotel had undergone extreme renovations. Approximately $22 million dollars was spent on reconstruction to give the hotel a brand new look. With little examination it was quite obvious they did not spare a penny regarding the decor. There was such beautiful architecture, furniture and designs. Each room had a very modern yet retro feel inside. We walked pass an enormous lamp situated in the middle of the hotel. Then we passed a large bar that had blue light shining all around it. To top it off, every staff member greeted us with a smile.

We managed to find our way to the elevator. To no surprise the hotel even had elevator attendants to make sure we didn’t get lost. We went to the third floor where all three restaurants were located. Due to the language barrier, I didn’t get the exact name of all three. The group organizer had not selected a restaurant in advance. Subsequently we had no reservation. However, this gave the group an opportunity to choose which restaurant we preferred. One of the restaurants catered to the Algerian culture. The Algerian Restaurant sold foods specifically made in Algiers. The décor in the room looked fit for kings and queens, with lavishly decorated tables, sofas, and posh red velour chairs. Another restaurant catered to more of the American culture. I think it was referred to as the American Bar. I was not particularly interested in having Algerian food that night. Thankfully almost everyone else felt the same way and we all agreed to dine at the American Bar.

 The tables were large enough to seat a group of at least fifteen. Some were smaller than others, but all were exquisite. The lustrous chandeliers were beautifully designed. I couldn’t figure out its shape, but it was very unique. The waiter guided us to several tables where we could dine. We selected the one near the back that offered the feel of a private setting. The table was large enough to seat all ten of us more than comfortably.

 

The waiter handed us each a menu as we were seated. There was a part of me that felt like I was back in a regular American hotel dining at a normal American restaurant. It wasn’t until I opened the menu that I entered back into reality, where I found myself in an Algerian Restaurant staring at a menu written in French. I could manage to figure out which items were appetizers, soups and salad, grilled food and desserts. But I could not determine what each dish was under the sections. It appeared everyone else at the table could read the menu just fine. It seemed like I was the only one completely lost. Even my husband looked at the menu as if he dined there a dozen times before. And I knew for certain that he didn’t know what any of those dishes said either. He’s very smooth about it though. I on the other hand had the face of someone who was totally clueless. Luckily, one of the ladies in the group spoke pretty fluent French. I gather she could tell from the perplexed look on my face that I could use some assistance. She asked me if I had an idea of what type of food I was interested in eating. Usually I enjoy reading over the menu like everyone else to choose from the many options available. Since I did not have that luxury tonight I answered her by saying, “I could go for some chicken or fish, preferably chicken.” No real shocker there as I usually stay within the poultry and seafood family when dining out. I did see different types of beef and lamb on the menu, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with chicken or fish. She began to tell me that the dish labeled “Piccata de volaille au marsala & a la sauge with Riz pilaf” would probably be to my liking. I spotted the word marsala and asked if it was similar to Chicken Marsala. She replied, “Yes.” In the states I rarely heard anyone complain about a Chicken Marsala dish so I decided that would be my selection for the evening. Douglas chose to go with a lamb dish that was served with vegetables. Fantastic! The hard part was out of the way. We were ready to order!

The waiter started on the opposite end of the table from where Douglas and I were sitting. When he got to me I grabbed the menu and pointed to the chicken dish I had chosen. In French, he sadly told me they had no chicken and began to tell me what they did have in stock. This fancy restaurant has no chicken! Are you serious? Now I was back to square one trying to figure out what I was going to order. Of course I couldn’t understand anything the man said to me. But again, the nice lady at the table remembered that I said I could eat chicken or fish. Therefore, while talking in French, she asked the waiter to explain each of the five fish dishes. After hearing the choices, the dish listed as "Rougets de la cote algeroise a la facon provencale" sounded like it would be good. The woman told me it was cooked with tomatoes, green peppers and onions and it should be very good. So I made my second decision and chose that dish. I eat fish a lot; thus, I’m sure I would like it. We placed our orders and could now begin to socialize with the rest of the group.

Before delving into conversation I could not resist going outside to observe the breathtaking view up close and of course take some photos too. Douglas joined me. The view was absolutely stunning! The water was so close it felt like the Atlantic Ocean was right beneath our feet. For a brief moment I felt like I was in New York City, as all the buildings were lit up throughout central Algiers. From a distance, a cluster of buildings and bright lights amidst a clear blue sky can make anything look gorgeous. However, we knew better. The city is really not that beautiful. Most parts look completely opposite, but I was going to revel in the view and pretend that those buildings were the loveliest I had ever seen. The hotel had a gigantic pool down below. I just had to capture a picture of it.  I had never seen a pool that large at a hotel. Swimming one lap in there could count as sufficient exercise for the day. It was so calm and quiet outside. Fortunately, there were also very few people in the restaurant to contribute to any noise. After about ten minutes we went back inside to join the rest of the group. 

I jumped into the conversation my husband started with a gentleman sitting across from us. They were discussing their love of the movie Invictus. I too enjoyed that movie. The man especially loved it because he had a close affiliation to the country. He was South African. I love meeting people from different countries, so when I heard him state that he was South African I was very interested to ask him some questions about the country. Since the primary language in many countries in Africa is French, I asked if that was also the primary language is South Africa. He said, “No, we speak Afrikaans. But in South Africa there are a total of eleven languages.” He proceeded to name all of them. I asked the gentleman if he spoke all eleven and he explained that he used to, but since he left the country he no longer speaks all of them fluently. I assumed they simply spoke French there and maybe one other language. I would have never imagined that South Africans have eleven different official languages. This would further explain why they are referred to as the rainbow nation. The gentleman continued to talk about why he loved the movie Invictus so much. He started playing rugby at the tender age of five. It seems like quite a young age to begin playing such a rough sport. Over the years he became great at it though. And like most rugby players, he has been injured several times, but those injuries have never lessened his love of the sport. He and his wife have a two-year old son. He said as soon as his son turns five, he too will start learning the game of rugby. I think it’s amazing to watch what these men can do with their bodies, but I would much prefer to see them in some type of armor to prevent such frequent visits to the emergency room.

The waiter came around to each of us at the table and asked if we would like water; at least that’s what I assumed he was asking as he held up two different bottles of water. One was sparkling and the other was regular water. I chose the regular water. I have never been able to comfortably digest sparkling water. To me bubbles should remain in soda or sparkling beverages with actual taste.

The first course of dishes started to come out. I noticed that only my husband and I hadn’t ordered a soup or salad. I didn’t even think about it, as I was so fixated on figuring out what I wanted for my entrée. The salads were presented very nicely and looked rather good. At the moment I surely wished I ordered a salad. But it was okay; the entrees would soon follow.

After about twenty minutes dinner was served. There were two waiters that brought the dishes out. They looked neatly plated and very appetizing. People ordered a variety of filet mignon, lamb, veal, and fish. The filet mignon looked especially good. But I couldn’t wait to see my plate. The man began calling the name of each dish and whoever ordered that dish would raise their hand for the waiter to bring it to them. I heard the waiter say something related to lamb and saw Douglas raise his hand. His lamb looked delicious! I don’t even eat lamb chops, but I was tempted to try a bite. Douglas thought the dish looked great too, except he was disappointed by the lack of vegetables on the plate. I thought to myself, “There is no way my husband will be full from eating that.” Later he confirmed that the same thought crossed his mind as soon as the plate was set down in front of him.

Then I heard the waiter say something pertaining to fish and rice. I looked behind me and with a smile I raised my hand. I couldn’t wait to receive my first meal at an Algerian restaurant. I don’t know the last time I was so excited to eat. The man kindly placed my plate in front of me. At this time my facial expression was priceless! Someone should have taken a picture of my reaction because it was worth a thousand words! My jaw dropped, my eyes popped open, and my mouth and chin began to shrivel up as if I just caught a whiff of an extremely terrible smell. On my plate were two scoops of white rice mixed with peas, four small full-bodied fish covered with red scaling and a lemon on the side. All I could see on that plate were the eyes of four little fish staring at me and their mouths left wide open as if it were a still picture from when they were killed.

  
I looked up at my husband, looked down at my plate, looked up at the kind lady who spoke French and helped me choose this meal, looked back down at my plate, looked back up to the waiter, and again looked down at my plate. I did all this with a smile that conveyed the following thoughts, “I’m in a fancy restaurant with people I just met, in a country I don’t know, surrounded by waiters who speak no English, and with a plate of food in front of me that looks terribly disturbing; therefore, I will just smile and not make a scene.” But I’m seriously thinking, “Why the heck are there four small fish on my plate with eyeballs looking up at me! This is NOT what I intended to order!  I would much rather be at Red Lobster in the states right now!”

Beneath the table Douglas placed his hand on my left thigh and gave me a look saying, “Are you going to be okay?” He knew inside I was beside myself. He knows that at every restaurant I typically get the same thing all the time and heads on fish are never a part of my selection. The lady who helped me order this monstrosity of a meal then looked at me with a look that said, “Oh dear, I had no idea that is what Rougets de la cote algeroise a la facon provencale meant.” She quickly asked me if it would help if they removed the heads. I replied, “Sure, I guess, yes, please remove the heads.”

The people at the other end of the table did not have the luxury to see my delicacy of a meal. But word quickly spread down the table about what I had been served. I began to receive looks of pity from everyone, although that did not stop them from smiling at their normal looking dish plated in front of them. Out of all ten of us, I was the only one who ordered such a meal. It's times like this I certainly wished I had just followed the crowd. If they only had my Chicken Marsala dish I wouldn’t be in this situation. But no, leave it up to me to be the lucky one at the table to have this experience. The waiter must have known this would make for a great blog entry.

The waiter returned with my plate, only I was no longer making eye to eye contact with dead fish. However, the beheading still did nothing to make me feel any better about this meal. Douglas asked me if I would be able to eat the food. All I really wanted to do was hand this dish back to the waiter and ask for a plate of fries and vegetables. Instead I decided I was going to be a trooper and patiently pick my way through the meal. I started with the rice and peas. I figured despite this fish looking quite suspect, I’m sure the rice and peas would not disappoint. I placed the fork of rice and peas into my mouth, and sadly I was very mistaken. I absolutely love rice and peas. I used to always say that no one could ever serve me a bad dish of it. Well, I had now taken a bite of food from the chef that would prove me wrong. One would have thought I ordered a meal for diabetics.  I had never tasted such lackluster rice and peas. They must have cooked this dish with only water; leaving off any kind of salt, pepper, or butter. I thought the rice would be my saving grace, but now I had to place all my hope into the fish. I hoped that in spite of its disappointing look, maybe it could make a comeback with its taste. I started by first attempting to peel back the red scaling off the fish. In my head I said, “Why is this even still on here in the first place?” Once I removed the scaling, I took the fork and broke off a small piece to only find the fish was filled with bones. Uh, seriously! I always eat boneless fish. I don’t know the last time I ate a fish with bones. But then again I don’t know the last time I ate fish that had just been beheaded before it was re-plated to me. Yet another first for me! I tried to pick as many bones out as possible and finally placed the fork into my mouth in the hopes that I would not be disappointed. After a long and hard swallow, my hope dropped to the bottom of my stomach along with that bland piece of fish. And I still managed to swallow a bone! I usually do not like lemon on my food, but I looked down at that lemon thinking it might be the best thing on this plate. For a dish that I thought I couldn’t go wrong with, it certainly had a lot of problems!

Douglas saw me picking over the food with my fork, taking the smallest bites possible. Since I was in a social setting I wanted it to appear that I was eating the food, while being careful not to put more than a tiny amount on my fork. My husband is wonderful for many reasons, but he got the award that night for not allowing me to suffer through the meal any longer. He let me taste a piece of his lamb. I told him it was pretty good. He then said, “Well you take the rest of my plate, and I’ll take yours because I want you to actually eat tonight.” Thank goodness for a thoughtful and generous husband. I knew he didn’t want that unappealing fish or flat tasting rice and peas any more than I did, but he was willing to sacrifice his food so I could eat. Now that’s love! Although I usually only eat lamb when having a gyro from a Greek restaurant, I was willing to put my preferences aside. The lamb wasn’t great, but in comparison to that fish, it was delicious.

After the meal the waiter asked if we wanted any dessert. Although I had plenty of room for such, I couldn’t fathom ordering anything else. If I ordered ice cream who knows what they would have brought out to me! No one opted for desert, but everyone besides my husband and myself, seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed their meal. The waiter proceeded to bring us the check with all our meals and drinks on one bill. After reviewing the bill we had no idea they would charge for water. Here I thought I was saving money from ordering regular water instead of the sparkling kind. No such luck. Although I should have known we would be charged for water because it’s simply not safe to consume unfiltered water in this country. We then tallied up our portion of the bill. My dish had the nerve to be $25. That would have been fine had the meal at least tasted good. All I could think to myself was that I didn’t pay for the food. I paid for the experience and I definitely got my monies worth!

The best part of the evening was the flawless ambiance El-Aurassi offered and the superb company I was around. The atmosphere leaves nothing to be desired because they have everything you can ever imagine. It’s an ideal venue for a wedding, date night, or even a photo shoot! The fabulous scenery and relaxing feel is most certainly worth the trip. In addition, I thoroughly enjoyed the Dinner Club group and acquired a lot of information from the conversations that took place. I was delighted to hear about their experiences in Algiers, and its surrounding cities and countries. I was especially pleased to learn about some of the culture in South Africa. As for the food:  there is no doubt that I will never again order "Rougets de la cote algeroise a la facon provencale" - otherwise known as whole fish with heads and eyes attached.  If I ever decide to dine there again I will have to either call ahead and confirm that they are fully stocked with chicken, or I will have to do what I did this time which is eat pancakes first to ensure I have a full belly. Thank goodness I listened to my husband.