Welcome to Abu Halen.

If you listen real heard, you can actually hear the good times roll. Or at least limp. Maybe crawl.

The Corniche


Yesterday afternoon we took family pictures (a momentous event for us) and then drove to the Corniche, the city’s main beach. Jeddawis love spending evenings at the Corniche, and we appeared to be the only Westerners there; I was glad I had covered my hair. And that I had secured my scarf with a pin to keep it secure in the coastal wind!

Tess, however, was no fan of my conservative wear. She hardly recognized me. In fact, she wanted nothing to do with me. Whenever I held her, she cried until she was returned to Joey’s arms. Apparently, voice, hands, and smile do not a mother make. It’s all about the hair for this baby.

Halen was also thrown off by my black garb and had trouble distinguishing me from the other black-robed women ambling along the sidewalks with their families. He grabbed one woman around the waist, thinking it was me, and was roughly pulled away by a none-too-happy husband. It was his first real-life lesson in Muslim manners with married women.

So This is Christmas

What It's Like to Drive Across Arabia (or "Just Me and Marco Polo")