Italy Here We Come - Part 1: Traveling from Algiers to Aviano

 

Once a year there is a Region Conference held at a location selected by the Command for all Detachment Commanders within that Region to attend. This conference is mandatory for the Marines. Therefore, their tickets are paid in full and they get per-diem during the entire time. Spouses and family members are not required to attend, but highly encouraged to join their Marines. This is the only time spouses will be able interact with one another in person. It’s a wonderful opportunity that is highly anticipated throughout the year.

Approximately one month ago information was released that this year’s conference for our region was going to be held in Aviano, Italy from June 19^th – June 24^th. We didn’t even think about whether or not I was going to attend. It was certain that I would go along with Douglas. I was vastly excited for the opportunity to experience Italy.

During my teenage years, I always dreamed of traveling to Europe. Although at that time it felt like a fantasy that would never come true. While growing up in the Bronx, New York it seemed impossible for me to ever venture out of the country. Each year my family and I took summer vacations to both Virginia and South Carolina. The bulk of my mother’s family lived in various parts of Virginia, such as Richmond, Chesapeake, Hampton, and a small country area called Freeman. Nearly all of my dad’s family lived in Charleston, SC. As well, biennially we attended our family reunions held in various states, mainly on the East Coast. We drove to places such as Ohio, Pennsylvania, Detroit, New Jersey, D.C., Maryland, Florida, Georgia, and even flew to California. Most of my friends, at the time, either rarely traveled outside of New York City, or at most visited other states in the U.S. just like me. Hence, there was no normalcy with those surrounding me to take trips or vacations overseas. It was altogether too expensive to even contemplate travelling out of the country. I became quite comfortable and happy with the travel we did get to do within the U.S.  I knew then that I was very fortunate.  

There is one country in Europe that I have always wanted to see. Although it’s not Italy, “The Boot” is a place that’s absolutely beautiful to see. I, on the other hand, have a great desire to visit Spain. Maybe while growing up in the Bronx around so many Puerto Ricans and Dominicans, they rubbed off on me. I was particularly in love with Spanish food. I use to think that nothing would be better than going to Spain and experiencing its authenticity.

Douglas didn’t purchase my ticket immediately. Often a conference will get cancelled or rescheduled for a later date or different location. We decided to wait until the conference was approved by the Command. Once we received the green light that Douglas could purchase his ticket, we jumped online to get my ticket on the same flight. Wisely, my husband was careful to purchase travel insurance for me, in the event any plans did change at the last minute. Transactions were now complete. Time couldn’t have moved any slower as we waited for the 19^th to arrive.

A few days before the conference, the CO (Commanding Officer) sent out a few emails regarding the schedule of events. It was clear the guys would work the majority of this trip, but they did manage to schedule time for dining events with the families. Besides sightseeing through Italy, I was looking forward to interacting with other military spouses who could relate to the feelings and experiences I was having on this program. As well, I was in desperate need of some girl’s time.

One of the emails the CO sent out said the weather was currently rainy and cold. However, the temperature during our time there would be warm with a chance of showers toward the end of the week. I didn’t want to only pack clothing for hot temperatures just in case it was cool some days. I decided to pack what I would like to call “back-up outfits.” I had about two outfits per day. It seemed like a lot, but I like to give myself options. I made sure to leave enough room for us to bring back souvenirs and food. Many of the American staff members in the embassy buy several products in Europe that are not sold in Algiers. I missed the taste of cheddar cheese and turkey bacon amongst other things. Douglas planned to restock his supply of pork bacon and sausage. Although he did say that eventually he will stop eating pork products. That was a surprise to hear. We both have become a lot more health conscious over the past couple of years.

The night we were supposed to leave, Douglas and I stayed up very late packing and gathering all of our important papers for the trip - passports, U.S. dollars, credit cards, military orders, etc. Thinking ahead, I called my credit card company to let them know I would be traveling to Italy. They asked me specifically which cities I would be in and for how long. They made the appropriate notes on my account and told me to have a great time. I don’t know what made me decide to do that, but it was a good thing I did.

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 4:40 a.m. There was no point in going to bed since we had to wake up very early to meet the driver taking us to the airport. Plus, I was too excited to sleep anyway.

Tuesday, June 19^th we left our home at 2:30 a.m. for Italy. Instead of the driver picking us up in front of our residence, we had to walk to the main entrance of the embassy since the gate to our home was inaccessible at the time. Unfortunately we discovered this piece of information fifteen minutes after the car was supposed to pick us up. First Lesson Learned: Plan ahead to incorporate enough time to tote luggage on a short walk, down several steps to the front of the embassy when leaving in the middle of the night. Once we got to the bottom of the hill, the car was there waiting. The driver opened the trunk for us to lay down our luggage, except the trunk was half-way full already, and we had some pretty large suitcases. The driver ran into the office to exchange keys for a larger vehicle which had much more trunk space. Second Lesson Learned: Make sure to tell pick-up driver to bring large vehicle if traveling with a lot of bulky luggage. We got everything in there without a problem. Thirty minutes later, we were off to the airport.

The streets were surprisingly barren. I’m accustomed to sitting in traffic with several vehicles on the road, fighting to rudely get in front of one another. A normal ride to the airport takes approximately forty to forty-five minutes. That morning it only took us twenty-five to thirty minutes. The streets resembled that of a quieter and calmer country. I could count on one hand the number of cars that passed us, and on my other hand I could count the number of people roaming the roads at such a late hour. It was nice to experience driving in Algiers without the ordinary hustle and bustle that occurs daily.

Once we arrived to the airport, we unloaded our four bags and made our way to the entrance. Our luggage had to be scanned before we were even allowed to enter the airport. That doesn’t usually take place in the states. Anyone can walk inside most U.S.  airports, as there is no security at the front door. We proceeded to the check-in counter for Alitalia Airlines. We flew with them coming from the U.S. to Algeria and had no problems. Gladly, check-in went well. We had no issues with our luggage or seat selection. Alitalia Airlines does not allow you to select your seat during the time of purchase. You must call within seventy-two hours of your flight’s departure and choose your seats with a phone attendant. I called a couple days prior to ensure that Douglas and I sat together.

Douglas and I trekked up the escalator to reach another check point. We stopped at a counter to fill out a mandatory customs identification card. I don’t know if that is the actual name of the paper, but it’s given to customs nonetheless.  This small card causes a long delay for us whenever entering or exiting the airport. To our misfortune it’s written in French. There lies the problem. During our first time using the cards, the security officers appeared quite frustrated with us as we approached their counter with blank lines. We tried asking them what it said, but we might as well have been asking a deaf person. They couldn’t understand us at all. And telling us the meaning of a French word, while speaking French, is far from helpful.

Card looks simple....if you know what you're reading!

It wasn’t until recently we realized that most of the words on the card could be found on our passport. Therefore, all we needed to do was match them to the correct line. However, they require specific answers. In addition, only one or two lines can be crossed out. Otherwise you have to fill out a brand new card. Since we’ve been through this a couple times, we thought we finally filled out our cards correctly. However, once we got to the counter the security officer made it clear that our information was very much incorrect. The gentleman drew a large “X” across our cards and began filling out a new one. The biggest misunderstanding was the line that required me to list my profession. I told him I was unemployed. Apparently that answer was not sufficient. The man continued to repeat himself asking, “What do you do?” I smiled with my eyebrow lifted to repeat myself once more, and replied, “I am unemployed.” I could have chosen to list all the work I do that I don't get paid for, but I chose to leave that out. I didn’t want to cause greater confusion. The gentleman still seemed baffled, as if no one in Algiers was unemployed. I then tried to tell him that I’m attached to the Embassy with my husband. That led him to saying, “Oh, you are his wife. Yes?” I happily replied, “Yes, yes, I am his wife.” He said, “Ok then,” with a sigh of relief. On the line next to “Profession,” he wrote, “Wife of Diplomat.” I was baffled. I didn’t know being my husband’s wife was a profession. I wondered if adding this title to my resume would be acceptable to a hiring manager. I guess only if I’m applying for a job in Algiers. I didn’t waste much more time thinking about it; as long as it got me through customs. After about ten minutes, which is quite long compared to the typical two minutes that it takes everyone else to get through the counter, we finally got our card stamped and were allowed to pass through.

After the minor headache in dealing with customs, we had to go through the usual airport security check point to scan our carry-on luggage. I typically do not get stopped. At the most, the security officer request to pat down my head if I’m either wearing a scarf or if I’m sporting my afro. You never know what can be snuck into a thick mane of hair. Oppositely, Douglas almost always gets stopped.  He refuses to remove his belt ahead of time because he deems it to be unnecessary. One would think that when you go through the metal detector with a belt on and an alarm rings every time, then maybe you should start removing the belt in advance. Conveniently, for him only, he waits until the alarm goes off and for a security officer to ask him the same question every time, “Sir, do you have a belt on or anything in your pockets?” And he always has the same response, “Yes, I have a belt on and there are things in my pockets.” Really guy! I now act like I don’t know him when this occurs because this routine doesn’t make any sense.

Once we made it through that check point we followed the arrow that led to our gate. You wouldn’t believe it, but there was yet another check point. Douglas and I pulled out our passports and tickets to show security. Then to top it off, no more than a few steps pass that point was another desk with one man there for us to show him the same passport that the previous officer viewed. This was every bit of ridiculous! We ended up with one hour to spare before our flight departed. It was plenty of time to get a beverage or snack from the only open restaurant at that hour. As we waited in line to pay both of us realized that we didn’t have any Dinar (Algerian currency) on us. Before we left, we emptied our pockets of all Dinar. Thankfully the vendor we were at took credit cards. Douglas purchased his two drinks and we went to sit down. Lesson Three: When traveling, bring currency for your current country of residence.

Just when we thought there was plenty of time to relax before boarding, we approached our gate to find everyone in a long line. We found ourselves to be nearly the last people to arrive. It was still an hour out from the take-off time. Normally flights in the U.S. do not board that early. I was shocked to see such an early boarding time, but really I shouldn’t have been. After going through about five check points I knew anything was game. The line moved extremely slowly. We showed the attendant our ticket and passport and she waved us through. Now I thought, finally we will get on the plane and rest our feet. But the line was moving so slowly for my short patience. I couldn’t understand why. About twenty minutes later we reached the front of the line, and it was very clear why it took so long to send people through. There were two security officers that required everyone to open their carry-on luggage and personal bag for search. Another uncalled for requirement. How many security checks does one airport need? Not to mention, the officer told Douglas that he could not take the drinks he just purchased in the airport terminal on the plane. Do they not trust their own liquids? I would like to meet the genius who came up with this policy. If this airport isn’t secure I don’t know what more they can do. I was relieved to eventually make it on the plane successfully. That processes was unnecessarily long.

Our destination was Venice with a flight connection in Rome. The flying time from Algiers to Rome was approximately two hours. While traipsing through the airport to find our new gate, we noticed there was another check point for all flight connections. We stood in a very long line to go through security once again and have our carry-on luggage scanned. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after we spent thirty minutes in line that I remembered we were traveling with Diplomatic Passports. Douglas and I could have gone through a separate entrance, avoiding the crowd. There was not a lot of time to spare during the layover. Shortly after getting through security, it was time to board the plane. Both this plane and the previous one had 3x3 seating. There were three seats on one side, an aisle in the middle, and three seats on the other. It was close enough to make a short flight feel lengthy.

Over the course of my trip, one of the biggest observances I made was that most Westerners travel extremely light. Our suitcases are nearly twice the size of Europeans. This includes carry-on luggage and checked baggage. When someone says they are backpacking around Europe, they are not kidding. The individual literally carries a backpack filled with only necessities. Seeing this made me reflect on the post I wrote about owning an abundant amount of stuff. It didn’t dawn on me that I also need to pare down on the items I pack my trips. There is no doubt that I could make do with a lot less. Lesson Four: Pack lightly when traveling around Europe or anywhere for that matter.

The flying time between Rome and Venice was just one hour. I went in and out of sleep the entire way since I hadn’t rested all night. As the plane took off, the sky began to brighten. The time changed so quickly I barely noticed the difference. All of a sudden the sun beamed into the window prompting me to lower its shade. It was surreal to see the sky instantly change.  As rapidly as we ascended into the air, we descended just as fast. The pilot spoke over the microphone and said several words that I could not understand, but I did hear the most important words and that was “Welcome to Venice.”  As I stepped off the plane, I felt overwhelmed by the fact that my husband and I were now in Italy. We both had come a long way from The Bronx, New York and Charleston, South Carolina. I call that being blessed.

We wandered through the terminal for a bit, in awe of our surroundings that were quite normal for the locals. Our arriving terminal was nearby baggage claim. Before we forgot to do so, we changed the time on our watches. Italy is an hour ahead of Algiers.

While waiting for the belt to start moving with our luggage on it, Douglas said to me, “I bet you that guy to the left is a Marine.” The haircut often gives Marines away. Typically Marines can always spot one another even if they don’t know one another. We didn’t approach the man since him and what I assumed was his wife, were sorting through some of their carry-on items.

The belt began to move and one by one our luggage appeared. I was very happy that all our baggage arrived in one piece on the correct flight. I’ve already experienced my baggage not making it along with me, and it’s not a pleasant experience. Thus, I let out a sigh of relief when I saw my belongings made it safely with me. Soon after a Marine approached my husband and asked his name. This gentleman was sent to meet us and the other families arriving around the same time. The other couple that followed behind him was the same guy Douglas spotted earlier and claimed he was a Marine. He was right. We then introduced ourselves and instantaneously connected, building a pleasant rapport. We were told there was a bus leaving at 12:15 p.m. to take us to Aviano Air Base. The current time was 11:00 a.m. Everyone agreed that grabbing a bite to eat would be ideal until it was time to catch the bus. The first thing most people eat upon entering Italy is some kind of authentic Italian food. It was a unanimous decision to begin by enjoying a slice of pizza.

We took an elevator up to the next level where there was a nice restaurant that sold a variety of food. While everyone else oohed and ahhed over the incredibly large slices of pizza they saw, I got excited because there was a salad bar labeled gluten-free. Whenever I stumble upon an establishment that caters to those with a gluten intolerance it makes me feel like a normal human being again. I had a turkey salad with an assortment of carrots, corn, cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce. It was delicious! Although, probably not as scrumptious as the huge slice of mouthwatering pizza the others were devouring.

I sat with the first spouse I met, Christen. We began chatting like we already knew one another. The guys chummed up to each other just as quickly. Before we knew it, the time was 12:00 p.m. That was our cue to head back down to the main level.

There was a large bus waiting there to take the next set of passengers to Aviano. Surprisingly, I was looking forward to riding on the bus. I think bus or train rides can be very relaxing as long as they are not crowded. This bus was not packed; however, it was hot and dirty. The air conditioner was out of commission and the curtains were badly stained. It must have been at least 90 degrees outside that day which made the inside of the bus feel like a piping 100 degrees. I somehow managed to get a decent amount of sleep while being very uncomfortable. If you’re that tired, you can sleep anywhere apparently.  Both my husband and I knocked out! The ride was nearly two hours long. As I went in and out of sleep I caught glimpses of the scenery. There was plenty of beautiful greenery to observe, but I stopped taking pictures after I noticed the sights were all the same. The ride reminded me of driving on the back roads of the country in Virginia. 

We finally reached our stop. I could tell we were not at the base though. Waiting outside were two vehicles driven by Marines that were assigned to drive us to our lodging facility on base. Buses and taxis are not allowed to drive on base, which is where our rooms were set-up. As soon as the word Air Force is spoken, most military members know they are going to be set up well. The Air Force usually has remarkably nice, modern facilities and most of their bases are exceedingly large. This particular base was spread across five separate areas.  There was no one piece of land in Aviano large enough to house the entire Air Force base. The ride to base was not long -  a mere ten minutes. During the drive, I got to take a few pictures of stores in downtown Aviano.

We pulled up to the base entrance for ID check. Once everyone was cleared they drove to our hotel, which was directly across the street. The facility looked favorable from the outside and larger than I expected it to be. We checked-in and headed upstairs to our room. We bumped into a few familiar faces from the training in Quantico back in February of this year. Sadly, many of these Marines came without their wives. There were a couple spouses that I was very much looking forward to seeing. The husbands explained that the plane ticket was simply too costly for their wives and children to come. A few of the tickets cost nearly $1500 round trip per individual, depending on which country they came from. That was significantly higher than the cost of my ticket. I completely understood why their wives had to stay behind. But I also sympathized for the ladies. I know how much they all want and need a change of environment and pace from their current country. Again, I was reminded that my ability to go to Italy was truly a blessing.

Douglas and I settled into the room rather quickly. It was almost 4:00 p.m. and we were a bit hungry. Hours had already passed since we ate that pizza and salad at the airport. Luckily the Commissary and Base Exchange (BX) were within walking distance. The Command scheduled an Icebreaker Social for 6:00 p.m. that evening. For that reason we would only pick up a small snack.

It was surprising to see how desolate it was around base on a Tuesday afternoon. Had this been a Marine base it would have been swarming with Marines and activity. There were hardly any Airmen present. Maybe everyone was inside due to the extreme heat. The temperature was well into the 90’s.

As we approached the building where the BX and Commissary was located, Douglas and I caught sight of none other than a Popeye’s restaurant. Just a few weeks ago Douglas commented on missing Popeye’s chicken and biscuits. I would have never even expected to find one in Italy. But we were on an American base and the Air Force always has a variety of options. Along with Popeye’s there was Burger King, Taco Bell, Cinnabon stand, and a couple other restaurants. I’m not a fan of fast food, but I did enjoy some Popeye’s fries dipped in ketchup. The next best thing for me would have been Chick-fil-a. I would have lost my mind right there on the spot.  

After eating we walked down the hall to the commissary. It was nice to pull out my military ID card again and enter the military grocery store. Most Air Force bases have large or decently sized commissaries as well. I immediately pushed my cart towards the long display of fresh fruits and vegetables. I missed the simplicity of grocery shopping in the states.

The main reason we were in the commissary was to pick up some breakfast food for the mornings. Prior to my arrival, I learned that Italians do not eat breakfast. Ergo, it is not common to see American style breakfast food served in restaurants throughout the country. Mainly Italians will have a pastry or cold cut sandwiches in the mornings, opposed to the hot breakfast Americans are accustomed to enjoying. I can miss lunch. I can even miss dinner. But I draw the line at skipping breakfast or simplifying it with a pastry. I do respect their way of eating, but I just like the many American breakfast options  I've been accustomed to eating. That would be a difficult adjustment for me to make if I had to eat like an Italian. (You will see more of what I mean in my upcoming stories.) Thankfully, I made a few cinnamon raisin muffins before I left.  To go along with the muffins or at least give us another option, I picked up a box of cereal, almond milk, and my favorite yogurt made by Chobani.  This would ensure Douglas and I had something in our stomachs to start the day. We checked out and walked back to the hotel.

With little time to get ready, we showered, ironed clothes, and got dressed. Well, I shouldn’t say “we ironed” clothes, because I only touch an iron when Douglas is not around. My ironing skills leave much to be desired.

The Command arranged an Icebreaker Social for all the Marines and families to come together in a relaxed environment. There were also a few other events planned for us in the week. I thought it was highly considerate of them to keep the families in mind, despite the hefty amount of class material they needed to cover over the next few days.

The event began with a member of the Command informing every one of things to be cautious about while off base. The main items consisted of always having our passports available due to random checks and avoiding a bar downtown where military members are targeted for fights. Otherwise we were free to roam the area as we desired.

The feeling of being around other females that shared many of my exact experiences was amazing. It was especially wonderful to see a former classmate, Nickia, from my spouse training class taken in Quantico. She is incredibly sweet and has two of the cutest little girls. There chubby cheeks and big blue eyes make my heart melt. Also, I spent a lot of time getting to know a few new spouses, including Christen, who I met earlier at the airport, and a girl named Rayma, that was new to the region. I introduced myself to her via email before coming to the conference. She and I were both looking forward to exploring Italy while the guys worked during the day. We hoped there would be other spouses that were interested in doing the same. I immediately connected with these ladies and had some great conversations.

It was getting late and the fatigue from a long day of travel was hitting our bodies hard. Around 9:30 p.m. we called it a night, said our goodbyes, and made our way back to the hotel.  

As we strolled through the grass to get to the hotel, Douglas and I were astonished to see that it was still semi-light outside. It did not get completely dark there until 10:00 p.m. I had never experienced anything like that. The sky revealed a soft, midnight blue color that looked heavenly. It’s hard to realize how late the time is when it’s still light outside.

Behind the base was a gorgeous view of the Dolomite Mountains in the Italian Alps. The sight was breathtaking.

Both these photos were taken at approximately 9:45 p.m.

After twelve hours of traveling and a fun night of entertaining, I still had enough energy to smile and bask in the joy of actually being present in Italy.  One day down, five more to go.

To be continued with Part 2……

The Command Visit

Over the past few weeks I had been surprisingly busy. At times I do enjoy a hectic schedule. However, this time I was not preoccupied doing things for myself. Rather I was assisting my husband to prepare for his Command Visit, while also participating in a few activities on their calendar of events.  

The Command members that typically perform these visits are the Commanding Officer (CO) and the First Sergeant (1stSgt). They are in charge of the assigned “host countries” in their region. Their visit is intended to ensure that the Detachment Commander and his Marines are moving in the right direction to perform their jobs properly and efficiently. As well, the Command likes to visit the Detachment Commander’s residence to not only meet his or her family, but to also confirm that their living conditions are suitable. The visit sounds pretty cut and dry; not too difficult. But any service member knows that when their Command comes to town there is a great deal of prep work involved. They were scheduled to stay in Algiers for four days with a jam packed schedule of activities and events. This wasn’t going to be any picnic in the park.

Being the new kid on the block is undoubtedly challenging. One has to become familiar with his or her settings and get up to speed on his or her surroundings and new responsibilities. Needless to say, being a new Detachment Commander is a pretty stressful time the Marine and in turn, the spouse. My husband is not easily stressed. On the contrary, he is usually the person who has a nonchalant attitude, yet still gets the job done. I am more of the worrier in our household. Often I am concerned about each step in any process. And if that is not enough, I consistently triple check myself and my work to guarantee that either it was done properly or things are moving according to the set plan. This time the tables were turned. My husband would be the one to spend countless hours in the day preparing documents and materials for the Command. He would be the one questioning his own plan to make sure it was a wise choice. And he would be the one triple checking his work to ensure accuracy.

About a week prior to the arrival of the Command I sensed my husband could use my help at work. Not to do his job, but to assist him in establishing some type of organizational system that would allow him to clearly identify his tasks and responsibilities and to distinguish his priorities. Sometimes a person may have all the answers within their possession. Every file may be held on the organizations shares drive. Or the loads of paperwork may be placed in one office. But neither one of those things will matter if it is scattered amongst different drawers in the office, various shelves, or in an assortment of folders found on the computer. When maintaining my work space, my motto has always been to consolidate. If ten items found in five different folders, all pertain to one event I’m working on, then I’m going to immediately transfer all ten items to one folder for my current event. The week prior to the Command arriving, I gladly stepped in to assist my husband in arranging his materials in a way that would set him up for success now and in the future.

In addition to lending a hand to my husband in the office, I also planned to make a few meals for the entire detachment and the Command during their stay in Algiers. Although I do know how to cook and enjoy making meals for my husband and I; I have never cooked for a large group of people. Nor have I ever baked anything from scratch. A box labeled with instructions has always yielded me fantastic results. Therefore, I had a minute challenge ahead of me. I would host a dinner at my house for a party of nine.

Our shipments from the states arrived two weeks prior to the scheduled visit. Since I knew the Command was scheduled to do a walkthrough of our residence followed by dinner here; I wanted to make certain that the house was well put together. I unpacked every box, put everything away in its proper place, and organized our consumable good so that they were displayed nicely. As for the household cleaning, I could have opted to use a maid service, but I chose to do it myself instead. I figured it’s my home and besides; it would be good exercise for me.

I decided to set aside one day to clean my home from top to bottom. It was a good thing I allotted myself that much time. This house took nearly an entire day to thoroughly clean. There were moments I almost regretted not hiring a maid to do the job instead. Never once had I spent an entire day of just cleaning. I know some people get a thrill out of cleaning their home. However, I am not that female. I loathe cleaning, especially dusting and doing the bathrooms. It has always been tolerable in the past, but after cleaning a there bedroom, three bathroom home with all marble floors and high ceilings, I was completely done!

To simply sweep the entire residence, it took me approximately one hour. Then it took me another hour to use my Swiffer and clean all the floors. I must mention that using a Swiffer is not all that great. I think an actual mop is still the best things to get clean floors that are super shiny and residue free. A Swiffer is just easier than walking around with a bucket of water and continuously dipping the mop in the bucket, squeezing off excess water, mopping and repeating several times.

Next I moved on to vacuuming. We only have two rugs in our home; one in the living room and one in our bedroom. Therefore, this would not take long. I started in the living room. When I was almost done with that area, I started to smell something that reeked of burned rubber.  I looked down to see smoke escaping from the bottom of my vacuum cleaner! I thought to myself, “Vacuum cleaner please hang in there. I’ve got to get the rest of this rug clean and the one in my bedroom.” Fortunately I did manage to finish vacuuming both rooms. Although I could tell the vacuum cleaner was not picking up dirt and trash as easily as before. Once I finished, I quickly unplugged the vacuum and placed it in the hallway for my husband to examine. He’s not only a Marine, but he’s also our resident repair man. Hey, I’m the house cleaner and house cook. We both have collateral duties that come with zero benefits!

After setting the vacuum cleaner aside, I began the dusting. There is something that I have always loved about the look of dark furniture. Cherry wood is my favorite. When entering our residence for the first time, I was excited to see all of the furniture was cherry wood.  However, there is nothing beautiful about the obvious dust that is shown on such furniture. Dark wood shows everything! I’ve noticed that a day or two later after I dust, it looks like I didn’t do anything. The dust returns so quickly. Therefore, I delayed dusting until the day of the dinner so that the furniture would look freshly cleaned when they arrived. Between sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, dusting, washing and folding laundry, and tidying up the place; I was excited for the day to finally arrive.

I can be very indecisive, but it didn’t take me long to make a decision about what I would fix for dinner and dessert. For the appetizers, I kept it simple and nicely plated pepperoni cuts of cheeses, crackers, olives, and onions. For the entrée I chose to cook oven roasted chicken with carrots and potatoes, served with cornbread. For dessert I made a pound cake served with macerated strawberries and sprinkled with confectioner's sugar. The meal seemed easy enough to me. I figured it wouldn’t be a lot of work. Boy was I wrong about that!

 The dinner was on a Wednesday. That Monday I took the chickens out to clean and season them in advance. Cleaning a chicken in Algiers is very much different from cleaning a packaged chicken in the states. Often the chickens here still have feathers on them, which need to be removed. There is not a massive amount of feathers, but it’s enough to require some detailed cleaning. Fortunately, the butcher clears out the inside of the chicken for me and always cuts the neck off.  However, there cavity was still filled with loose parts and a little too much blood for my liking. In the past it only took me a few minutes to thoroughly clean a whole chicken.  Here it takes me at least thirty minutes. I planned to roast two whole chickens, so that evening I was in the kitchen for over an hour. After spending nearly 90 minutes cleaning both chickens I decided not to season them that night. I noticed there was more blood than usual dripping from the cavity of the chickens. My mother gave me a tip that proved to be excellent. She said to sprinkle some salt inside the cavity, and let it sit overnight in the refrigerator. My mother said that would be a good way to drain the blood from the chickens. I followed her advice and placed the two chickens into the fridge for the night.

Tuesday morning I woke up, ate breakfast and removed the chickens from the fridge to see if the salt tip worked. My mother’s advice was perfect! There was no more excess blood dripping from the cavity. After rinsing the salt from the cavities and patting the chickens dry with a paper towel, I seasoned them with kosher salt, pepper, original Mrs. Dash, and olive oil. Then I placed both chickens in two large Ziploc bags and returned them to the fridge.

Subsequently, I gathered the ingredients to make my pound cake. Pound cakes are typically done in a bundt or loaf pan. I didn’t own either. The day before I requested the Marine driver to take me to a nearby store where I was told I could find bundt pans. The person who recommended the place didn’t know the name of the store, so it took me a little while to find. I finally spotted the store after walking by it twice. Everything sold in Algiers is made in European sizes. The bundt and loaf pans were nearly half the size of the normal pans I am accustomed to seeing. I bought two bundt pans in case there was too much butter for one.

The pound cake recipe I used was that of the infamous, Paula Deen. Nonetheless, that meant I was going to be using lots of sugar and butter. Her pound cake recipe called for three cups of sugar. I decreased it to a little over two cups because I didn’t want it to be overly sweet. Unfortunately I could not taste test the batter, because I didn’t make it gluten free. I just hoped that the amount of sugar I did put was enough to still make it delicious. A pound cake seemed relatively easy to make. After doing some research, I found the most important step was adding the sugar to the butter and shortening while mixing. This stage creates the light and fluffy texture that is desired.

After mixing all the ingredients and being extra careful during the first stage of adding the sugar, I poured the batter into my pans. It seemed like a lot of batter for just one pan. To be on the safe side I went ahead and used both pans since I had them. After removing the cake from the oven, I saw that I could have easily put all the batter into one pan. Lesson learned. 

When the cake was done I patiently waited for my husband to come home and taste a piece. I had already decided that if the cake was not delicious then I would simply bake a boxed carrot cake. I had already baked one recently and everyone loved it.  I like to always have a back-up plan. When Douglas got home, I served the cake to him with some leftover, lightly macerated strawberries I had in the fridge. I even sprinkled a little confectioners sugar on top to give him the complete dish. Once Douglas tasted the cake, I knew he loved it by that look in his eyes. It was also obvious because he continued to take bite after bite until his plate was empty. He said the cake and strawberries went perfectly together. My dessert was all set.

That night I stayed up late to clean a few pounds of strawberries. Most people in Algiers soak their fruit and vegetables in a cap full of bleach and cold water. However, I just could not accept the idea of soaking my food in bleach. Instead, I take extra time to clean each fruit and vegetable thoroughly under my filtered faucet. It took me a solid hour to clean the strawberries, cut out their core, pat them dry, slice them in half, layer them in a dish, and sprinkle them with sugar. Certainly, I was pleased that I didn’t wait until the day of the dinner to do all of that. Also, the strawberries create better syrup when they sit in the sugar for twenty-four hours or at least overnight.

Douglas finished his work at the office sometime after midnight. I was still up cleaning the kitchen when he returned. There was a breakfast and lunch scheduled for the next day at the Marine house. The Marines have a maid that cooks all their meals. Though, their maid was not scheduled work on the day of their scheduled breakfast and lunch. Of course I offered to help make breakfast since the guys are not too familiar maneuvering their way through a kitchen. Although my husband can cook; he was going to be with the command up until it was time to eat. Per their request, I planned to make pancakes for breakfast.  I opted to make tuna fish for lunch. This was a last minute request, and I had no other thawed out meat in the refrigerator. Tuna would be an effortless dish to prepare. 

The day of the dinner was finally here. I was nervous, excited, and couldn’t wait for it to all be over. Again, I am the worrier of the household.  My only desire was for everything to go well. I wanted to have a great visit with the Command and serve them a scrumptious meal. That morning I awoke at 6:30 a.m. to begin the process. I first boiled the eggs for my tuna fish. Then I prepared the pancake batter. As abnormal as this may sound, I don’t recall ever making regular pancakes – ones containing gluten. Growing up my mother always made breakfast. Her pancakes were delectable. During my first two years at college I always ate pancakes from the cafeteria or at a local restaurant. In the middle of my college years I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease and could no longer eat regular pancakes. Since this time I’ve only fixed gluten free pancakes. Even my husband eats the same pancakes I do.  Hence, making Hunger Jack pancakes was new to me. When I saw the batter was extremely runny I questioned whether or not that was how they were supposed to be. My batter always comes out with a nice consistency. I thought if I let the batter sit on the counter for a while it might thicken up.

Meanwhile, I started on my tuna fish. At the last minute I decided to go against my rule when it comes to cooking for others. My rule is to never do a dish for the first time when cooking for someone else. I just hated when my mom did that. She would try out new meals for huge dinners like Thanksgiving or Christmas. Here is my thought: If the dish turns out to be bad, then you just served a bomber dish for a much anticipated dinner. Now I ate my own words, because I decided to look up a recipe for tuna fish and make that instead of my usual tuna fish recipe. I narrowed it down to one I found on www.allrecipes.com.  Over one hundred people reviewed it with five stars. I figured it had to be good and was worth a try. I had no back-up plan if it didn’t taste good. My fingers were crossed.

The recipe did not call for eggs or relish which is usually a staple for my tuna fish. I can eat it without relish, but my husband on the other hand doesn’t think its tuna fish unless it has relish in it. So I set aside the eggs that I already boiled and hoped I would find something else to do with them. The recipe called for celery, but I didn’t have any in my fridge.  Instead, I chopped up some green peppers since that is usually what I put in my tuna fish. The recipe also called for two cups of mayonnaise. I felt that was way too much mayonnaise for the amount of tuna I had. I only put one cup. I mixed everything together, gradually adding in the green peppers. At the last second I decided to leave most of the green peppers out in order to see how it tasted without them. Once all the ingredients were mixed well I was absolutely amazed by its deliciousness. When my husband came home later that morning, he tasted it and couldn’t stop eating the tuna fish. He never ate my old tuna recipe straight out the bowl like that before. It was a hit! Sadly though, the Command and other Marines would not get to consume this dish. When Douglas came home to pick up the pancakes he told me the maid showed up and he didn’t need me to fix lunch. There was a small part of me that wished I knew that before I got up so early just to prepare the tuna fish. But there was a bigger part of me that was happy I fixed it. If the tuna was just for our home, I may have never tried out the new recipe. It ended up being a win-win situation for us all.

Breakfast was scheduled to start at 9:00 a.m. and it was 8:45 a.m. I turned the eye on to heat my buttered pan for the pancakes. They did thicken up a bit, but not much. Twenty-four pancakes later and the batter bowl was empty. There sat a bunch of flimsy looking pancakes that I could only hope tasted better than they looked. Douglas grabbed the stack, along with our syrup and scurried out of the door to go to the Marine house. I was done with my first two meals for the day. Now it was time to start on dinner, and it was only 10:30 a.m.

I took my two whole chickens out of the refrigerator to bring them to room temperature. Then I went to the back room to get my potatoes that were being stored in a cool, dark place. I began to thoroughly wash about fifteen large potatoes. The potatoes here are grown in sand; therefore they are very dirty. In the midst of my cleaning something made me think about the recipe I was using. I had done this meal several times before. But suddenly I remembered that it only served four people. I double the recipe and planned to cook two chickens but then it dawned on me that I was cooking for nine people, eight of whom are male Marines with a large appetite. One of my pet peeves is not having enough food for my guest. I don’t want to have just enough where they can clearly see that if they get the amount they would like, it may not be enough remaining for everyone else to adequately eat.

I recalled I had an extra chicken in the freezer that was already seasoned. I was supposed to cook it a couple weeks ago for the Marines, except at the last minute they cancelled due to a schedule conflict. Rather than still cooking it, I covered the chicken in saran wrap, placed it in a gallon sized freezer bag and stuck it in the deep freezer. This would be perfect for me now. I took the chicken out of the freezer and quickly thought about the best way to defrost it. It’s not like this was a couple pieces of chicken breast; it was a whole chicken that would take much longer to thaw out. I was tempted to put the chicken outside in a large bowl and let the sun do the work. Then I thought that might not be the best idea. Alternatively, I placed the chicken in a large bowl of cold water, promptly changing the water every thirty minutes. Four hours passed and the chicken was completely thawed.

Luckily I had plenty of potatoes and carrots to go with the third chicken. Once the potatoes were clean, I peeled them and cut them in medium sized squares. Then I thoroughly washed the carrots and sliced them about an inch thick. I didn’t sit down the entire day. I prepped three whole chickens and veggies to roast in the oven, made both gluten free and regular corn bread, put the finishing touch on dusting and cleaning my home, took a shower and set-up for my guest arrival. I regret not taking pictures of everything to share with my readers. I will remember to snap photos of my finished product for future post.

The house was now perfect; so perfect it was noiseless. I felt the quietness might be a little awkward. Everyone hates those moments of silence where you hope that someone says something, anything to make that uncomfortable feeling disappear. I elected to put some background music on that everyone would enjoy. While I would relished to hear the hip tune of Chuck Brown’s, Bustin’ loose, I thought that might be a tad inappropriate for the caliber of our guest. A medley of Jazz tunes seemed to be the better alternative.

The Command was expected to come over at 6:00 p.m. to do a walkthrough of our residence before the rest of the Marines entered at 6:15 p.m. The timing between the food being taken out of the oven and the guest arriving was impeccable. The last two chickens came out of the oven at 5:45 p.m. Now I would just wait for everyone to show up. Once they did Douglas would carve the chickens while the guest munched on an assortment of appetizers.

Then my perfect little plan was popped like a dart thrown into a hot air balloon. Douglas received a phone call from the 1^stSgt stating that they were running behind and dinner would be pushed back until 7:00 p.m. Great! And I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible. This wasn’t the type of meal you could stick back in the oven for another hour to keep warm. The chicken would surely dry out. Thank goodness I never removed any of the food from the oven bags in which they were cooked. The steam in the bag kept everything warm. Unfortunately by the time it approached 7:00 p.m. the oven bags of food were no longer hot. I didn’t want to warm the food close to the new time in case they still were running late. Nothing is worse than food that has been reheated several times. Minutes continued to pass. Eventually they showed up a few minutes after 7:15 p.m.

The CO and 1^stSgt were extremely approachable and friendly. The CO especially had a warm presence and immediately took away any nervousness I had about meeting him. As we did a quick walkthrough of our home, all I could think about was the lukewarm food on the stove that I needed to warm. After talking for about fifteen minutes I heard a knock at the door. There were the other Marines. This was an ideal opportunity for me to excuse myself from speaking with the CO and tend to the food. I found myself slightly frustrated because it was getting late. The clock showed 7:30 pm. My oven had already been turned off for a while. I knew if I turned the oven back on now, it would take at least fifteen minutes to warm up. Against my better judgment, I decided to warm everything in the microwave.

While the food was warming, Douglas took my place in the kitchen to carve the chickens. This gave me the chance to mingle with our guest. After several minutes we exchanged places and I went back into the kitchen to heat up the rest of the food. Twenty minutes passed and all of the food was still not hot. It takes a lot longer to warm a large dish rather that a small plate. At this point I wished I left the oven on and just placed all the food inside. Too late to entertain that option now. I’m positive it would have taken less time than this slow method. I had everything planned out seamlessly. What I didn’t plan for was the guest arriving nearly ninety minutes late. Flexibility is a must when dealing with Marines and in life period. A little after 8:00 p.m. dinner was finally warm as it was going to get.

Since the appetizers were more than half way gone, I knew everyone was ready to chow down. I offered the gentleman an alcohol selection of Blue Moon, Shock Top, Coors, or Beringer White Zinfadel. Most of them had beer when they arrived and chose to have wine with dinner. I poured the drinks and finally we were ready to eat.  

Dinner was a success. I watched a few people go back for seconds and thirds. That was the first positive sign. Then a couple of the guys started asking me how I got the chicken to be so juicy and vegetables to be so seasoned. This was the second affirmation. Lastly, a few of them bluntly told me that is was great. Wonderful! Douglas also told me it was the best I had ever done that dish. My husband and I have an honor system when it comes to my cooking. He has to let me know if it was a hit or miss; otherwise he will quite unhappy when that same meal is served again. The honor system has worked thus far.

When I noticed everyone was finished with their meal I began to collect the plates. The guys were kind enough to bring their dishes to the sink for me. That was a pleasant surprise. Next, it was time for me to prepare the dessert. I warmed the pound cake and plated each slice. I spooned the macerated strawberries half way on the cake and the rest on the plate. Then, I sifted confectioner's sugar over each plate and served it to them. Again they were all very considerate to not begin eating until I sat down with my plate. I only had strawberries since I didn’t make the cake gluten free. They devoured the dessert. Everyone was stuffed. Yet again I received great compliments. I was glad it all pulled together in the end. This was undeniably worth all the preparation it took. Happy guest makes a happy host. After chatting at the table for a while they called it a night.

I was nervous for no reason at all. I told the CO and 1^stSgt that it was my pleasure and would do it again for them anytime. In my mind I also said, “If you all were on time then the food would have been oven hot and we would have eaten at a decent hour.” Some things are better left unsaid. Overall the evening was a success, and I greatly enjoyed their company. Douglas was supposed to ride back with them to the hotel. However, the CO told him he could stay home. I suspect the CO might have felt pity on me as he observed the kitchen full of dishes that awaited my attention. Imagine several dinner plates and utensils, dessert plates and more utensils, glasses for everyone, and then all the serving dishes, etc. It might not have been so bad if we had a dishwasher, but no such luck. Times like that you really wished the person who designed this residence left room for a dishwasher to be installed. I could have always went picnic style and pulled out the paper plates. It would have saved me another hour on my feet. Douglas and I began cleaning with a feeling of contentment after having such an awesome dinner.

The next day there was another dinner planned for the Command. This time the Regional Security Office (RSO) would be the host. It was held at the Marine house on the deck. The RSO planned for a barbecue. I went over a little early to help her prepare. She made watermelon salad, grilled chicken with barbecue sauce, grilled veggies and potatoes. To her misfortune she found herself in the same boat I did the night before. The dinner was scheduled to commence at 5:30 p.m. One would not believe that it ended up starting at 7:30 p.m. instead. The Marines were behind schedule since their activities in the day took longer than expected. Of course it all worked out in the end and everyone enjoyed themselves and the food. After dinner we remained outside and gathered around one of the many wooden tables. The conversation quickly turned to a couple people discussing their all-time funniest pranks ever done to someone else or pulled on them. It was hilarious! One person said they filled their co-worker’s overhead desk cabinet with Styrofoam balls. When the person reached to open the cabinet, all the Styrofoam fell on top of them. Another person shared their story of stringing their co-worker along to believe that he was in major trouble for a joke he pulled on another co-worker. They even got their boss to call the guy into her office where she began to reprimand him. But the best story was the one where a group of co-workers got the key to another co-workers home and while the person was gone, they rearranged his entire home. The guy thought he was going crazy and had no idea what happened. A few people at that table, including the CO, were quite the pranksters. I surmise it must be pretty entertaining working such people. We stayed out there laughing our heads off until almost 10:00 p.m. Everyone had a fun night.

The next day I woke up feeling very energetic, which was a bit shocking seeing as I hadn’t slept much in those past few days. It was Friday and the Command would fly back home early that afternoon. I made my last small meal for them, which was a large variety of muffins to include blueberry, orange cranberry, banana nut, and apple cinnamon. All courtesy of Martha White muffin mix.

After they left all I wanted to do was take an incredibly long nap. For two weeks I was moving like the energizer bunny working off of very little sleep. I noticed I even lost a few pounds from not eating nearly as often. Since everything went so well I’m looking forward to doing it all again on their next Command Visit to Algiers. Thankfully it will be several months before another one occurs.