You travel. You live. You marry into a cultural and a world different from your own.

I thought that I was experiencing the phenomenon in which this post is titled.

Metempsychosis is defined as as a transmigration of the soul, a reincarnation. I believed my body, my soul, my beliefs, my culture were all erased and I was a new person when I first moved away from my life and roots in the United States.

Years passed and I began to view the world around me as superficial. This fake new world wasn’t any better than the world which I left. My new identity was fake and it was even harmful to my dreams, my independence and my personality.

And now, I have reached the point where I do not want to be connected toxic male-centered culture I am living. I feel that my roots are important. So, what lead to a change, and another change, and another one, and so on?

The Gulf is a place where masculinity rules. It is actually true. What’s even worse than being a local woman is being a Western woman living in a traditional setting. Your very presence is sinful. A distraction. A humiliation to “cultural values”. You are expected to honor the culture around you, to respect religious occasions, to dress modestly, while you cannot even mention your own traditions.

In my opinion, the “values” in the Gulf were created by men to confine women to their homes…which women are slowly overcoming through education and entering the workforce. As a teacher, I know that women are much much more educated than men in the Gulf.

And like women all over the world who enter the workforce, we still carry the weight of childcare and household responsibilities when we arrive home. So why work?

The local woman who doesn’t work is often offered help with childcare and housework, extra money, and a beautiful home in exchange for her obedience. Her silence. But when a Western woman, who isn’t obedient, shows up. She doesn’t get any perks.

Last night I packed my bags in an attempt to leave the country. I wanted to take my son, but I was not sure I could keep him safe on my own. It was a breakdown. I felt I had no one to talk to. Like a scene in a movie, I arrived at the check-in counter and told the attendant that I wasn’t getting on the flight. “You mean you’re not going to travel?” he said. “No, I am not.” I responded.

I left the airport and called my husband who came to get me with my son. I was joyful to see him arrive at the airport. My son laughed and giggled in his innocence.

I don’t expect your approval through reading this story. I just hope that there might be someone out there who can relate to the painful feeling of becoming and unbecoming, as I have in recent years. From traveler, to Muslim, to Mother, to atheist, to just angry. And I have dealt with the weight of these feelings alone. With no objective person to listen.

I believe that women should have control over their identities and shouldn’t be shamed for everything they endure. As a woman, I wait for the day that women can reincarnate into their best selves without men trapping them in a state of death. A state of silence. A nonexistence.

“Spring is beautiful everywhere,” wrote Khalil Gibran, “but it is more than beautiful in Lebanon.” 

Gibran captures the intensity of feeling in Lebanon. If something is good, it’s very good in Lebanon. And, if something is bad, it will be very bad in Lebanon. You can see the most beautiful people, taste the tastiest food, hear the loudest laughs and also see the worst crisis and the most fear and the most division. Lebanese have an attitude of living fully and completely and experiencing life in the fullest sense of what it means to live. And we know that also includes feeling the difficult things. A friend wrote to me and said “Lebanon has a soul. He makes you love him. “

On the outside, there seems nothing unlovable about Lebanon. But it’s under the surface where things are not stable. And many people say that the country is in the worst state it’s ever been in. 

Lights flicker on and off, and people in cafes and bars carry on, not even noticing what happened. “We don’t even notice it any more” my friend told me. “But that was the change of electricity from the generator and the government supplied electricity. “ Yes, in this country which has everything, most places do not have electricity for much of the day. And the people don’t know why. “It is because of our politicians” my friend said. 

It’s worth mentioning that people cannot take out loans, you can’t use any type of card for pay and people cannot afford petrol for their cars, and now  cannot afford to feed their families. 

In the Ashrafiyah neighborhood in Beirut, life continues while in the background you can see the eerie melted silos from the August 4, 2020 blast in Beirut. Graffiti signs read “ Iran out” “Beirut is screaming” and “our space is destroyed but we are not”. 

But, to get away from it all, it only takes a short 45 minute drive down the coast to reach cities like Byblos and Batroun. Both cities are full of history, touch the sea, and have open and welcoming atmospheres.  You feel like you are in a very liberal place. It’s a very open culture. 

And touching these cities are the beautiful mountains. And in these mountains, wild fruit trees like lemons, figs, oranges, pomegranates and a local fruit called achidiniyah grow. It’s wild and lush and beautiful nature. I truly believe that Lebanon was touched by the hand of God. It is a blessed land. 

My stay was cut short, for I had much more to do and see. But for many years I have dreamed of visiting the land of Fairuz, of Beirut, of Khalil Gibran. I got that chance. Lebanon is now a part of me. 

Batroun

Dareb el Mseilha

Church of Our Lady of the Sea, Batroun

After a long week of work, I have taken the opportunity to walk around and explore this beautiful place.

The two names above, ‘Souq Waqif’ and ‘Msheireb’, are two areas of Doha that are minutes walking distance from one another, and paint completely different portraits of Qatar.

Souq Waqif is everything traditional and everything past. The lovely weather this time of year has the many cafes filled with guests sitting in the sun, maybe enjoying a shisha or lunch or coffee with friends. There are many tourists and visitors hoping to get a taste of the charm that once existed in this region. The narrow passages leave you feeling that you are in another time and place. This beloved Souq is well-known throughout the Gulf as a place where tradition lives on.

Literally two minutes away you can visit the ultra-modern district of Msheireb. Unlike Souq Wagif, where very few locals can be seen, crisp white thobes and black abayas seem to fit with minimalistic, concrete architecture of the area. Msheireb is everything now and future. You can see people dressed in their finest, the finest cars, the trendiest cafes and you can hear clacking of stilettos along the streets. This was the most recommend area for me to visit by Qataris. And locals are everywhere. Msheireb represents where Qatar and the whole Gulf is going. This region can feel very futuristic at times. It is a complex mix because I would not consider the people to be exactly non-traditional. Nevertheless, society is changing rapidly and powerfully.

Hello everyone. My current location is Qatar. It happened. Suddenly and not without complications. I am currently working as an English teacher at a training institute and I would love to share thoughts, reflections, stories and adventures.

Musafira took a turn a dark turn in my previous posts. These stories are also valid and valuable. So I will leave them on my blog.

Feelings have changed, passports have been issued, and (for this moment) there is some hope for the future. Stay tuned!

I am back in Indiana again. The place I always return to. And I have to admit, autumn is at its glorious peak right now. It gives me the feelings I have been craving in the Middle East. I feel the cool wind, leaves crunch as I walk in the yard, and I see very thoughtful Halloween decorations around my city. This particular visit is for my brother’s wedding. Am I visiting? Isn’t Indiana the place of my current “home”? It has not felt that way as most of my time has been spent at my in-laws in Bahrain.

How spoiled am I to have travelled back and forth from Bahrain twice in a month’s time? To be honest, one of my flights was paid for through a travel rewards credit card. The other was very very cheap. Anyone who has flown economy on a long international flight will know that the experience is exhausting. Nevertheless, I have to go back sometime soon to be with my son. And to wait with him as a nearly impossible dual citizenship battle is finished.

My last post was directed towards my feelings as a mother. And the want for a break and an escape from my son.

As I have had time to think about the previous situation, I believe that even though I have complex feelings about motherhood, my struggle is not with being a mother. The issue has been living in a very restrictive place, with horrible weather, dull scenery and little control. I want to have influence over my son. I strongly believe in spending hours a day outdoors. I also wanted to put an adorable Halloween costume on my son.

Is this process worth it? My son has already missed my brother’s wedding, in which he was supposed to be the ring bearer. The holidays are quickly approaching.

The situation I am in now is ironic because the day our family left to Bahrain, I could not help to think that that I was journeying to a better place. That somehow the exhaustion and misery would lesson with help from my husband’s family. But I have an overwhelming want for “normalcy”, of a family together (mom, dad, and baby).

All of this is said with gratitude. My son is happy and cared for. But he needs his mother. He needs his father. With every bit of their imperfections.

My dear Ilya, please come home. Autumn in Indiana is not so bad after all.

Hello again. It is me. It always seems that you are thing I run to when I need to understand. It is you, the written word, that is holding me together at this moment. I am tired. I am anxious. And I am incredibly fragile at this very moment. If I could not have escaped to this cafe for an hour, maybe I would not have had the chance to come to you. And all of this would be circling through my head during a long, restless night.

Last week. I had the most incredible opportunity. A mom vacation. A getaway. 15 long hours on a plane to America. And yes, 15 long hours on a plane back to Bahrain. The trip was for an important job interview. The job that would change everything for our family. And yes, I was informed yesterday that I didn’t get it. I am very disappointed because a dream was lost. However, at the end of the day I know that a job is simply a job.

Bahrain is my location now. It is the place where I am stuck as I work out the completion of my son’s dual citizenship. It is my son, my mother-in-law and I most days. I was told that this trip would be one month maximum, and I was all for it at first. “WOW!” I thought “It is a miracle to be traveling again after the period of being Covid grounded!” I am starting my third month and this experience has been so desperately isolating. My husband is in America. Half of my heart is there. And I feel like a solo parent without him.

How did I feel on my trip to America? Did I miss my son?

I felt absolutely fantastic. I rode a bike and felt the cool breeze of fall, matched with the remaining warm sun of summer. I ate big stacks of pancakes and laughed with my husband. I went dancing and slept without interruption. In my heart, I still thought of my son. I wondered how he was feeling and I felt worried that the separation might hurt him emotionally. But the happiness I felt was overwhelming.

Upon my return, I realized that my son was lovingly and carefully watched after. And I have thought to myself, maybe he is better off without me. Maybe my son does not need a mother who really only thinks of ways to be separated.

And yesterday evening. In a time of exhaustion, I cried one of those cries that makes your eyes swell until they close.

I cried for myself and all the mothers without a “way out”.

I thought of solutions. Alternatives. I thought of booking a flight. Planning an escape.

For the only time I feel okay is in the quiet moments to myself while my son takes a nap.

Is my life limited to nap time?

---

I remember that these feelings were also present in America. But I had a support group. I could go outside and walk with my son. I felt like a mother with my own choices. And here, I feel that my choices are limited and the weather is so hot that a simple walk outside is difficult. Dress codes and cultural standards also limit the things I can do independently.

What is the solution here? What can I do to save myself and the relationship with my son?

No one can understand the pain that I feel. I have reached out on a number of occasions and it seems this dual citizenship is a process I must wait out for my son. At the expense of my soul, my health and well-being.

Since his death 3 years ago, I have not watched any of the old episodes of Anthony Bourdain’s shows, which I love so dearly. You could say that I have been grieving. I have been in denial. I have been angry. And I have been heartbroken. Many people all over the world will also say the same.

Anthony Bourdain is the inspiration for many wanderers and globe trotters. He is the great symbol of a travel -filled life lived fully and passionately. He was the rebel, former junkie who made it. His carefree style seemed to send a big F- you to all the materialism and phoniness in society today. 

The movie opened with a close-up of my hero. And his familiar, dearly missed voice haunted me. I can’t believe he is gone. He seems as present as he ever was, the way true legends live on forever. 

I didn’t leave the room with any answers to the many questions I have about his suicide. Rather, I left with a greater portrait of the man behind the scenes. I learned more about his humbleness, his kind spirit, the love for his family, and his inner journey. There are many people who say that travel brings us closer to ourselves. Maybe Anthony saw something inside himself that frightened him. It is a great lesson to us that we never know the inward struggles that people face. And it seems to be those who really can reflect in amazing ways, such as Anthony Bourdain, who can be swept away. I am not certain. As Jack Kerouac once wrote, maybe Anthony was one of the mad ones who will now “burn burn burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”

“Mother” is a title that never seemed natural to me and still does not to this day. I never thought I would have children until it happened to me. I did not have any expectations prior to becoming a mother about what this role would mean. My husband told me yesterday that maybe motherhood is not for me. And, in this moment, I also feel that it is not for me.

I love my son.. I think. He is cute and has a smell that makes my heart sparkle. I love his squishy belly and his slobbery smile.

I meet his needs, take him on walks, swing him in the park, and constantly kiss and hug him.

However, I spend most of my day thinking of all the things I could be doing if I was not stuck at home with him.

Or, I sit planning how I am going to make my dreams come true despite the reality I am facing. “Maybe I can carry him along with me everywhere,” “Or perhaps I can put him in daycare, get a job, and get on with my life.”

My searches on google include “Does Angela Merkel have children?”

Google responds “She does not have children of her own, but two adult stepchildren.”

I ask google again “Does the Prime Minister of New Zealand have children?”

Google responds, “Yes, one child, a girl born in 2018.”

“Bingo.” I think to myself. “This means I CAN do it. I can be successful, have a career and raise a child”

And then I remember the nannies that people of such status can afford and resume my search again.

And nights. The long, dark, unending nights. The screams in the dark that wake me hourly.

He has not slept in one year.

I wake up each day and continue to caffeinate myself to the point I can stumble through the day.

He cries and whines to the point my ears are ringing. If I even want to have a sip of water, he cries about that. I just don’t know how I can deal with this for years and years on end.

I am beginning to regret some of my parenthood choices. Maybe if I did not breastfeed, my son would sleep longer and not be so attached. If I would have went to work after 6 weeks, maybe my son would be more comfortable with strangers.

Should I sleep train? Should I let him cry it out? Why can’t I stop breastfeeding at this moment?

I remember feeling overwhelmed shortly after my son was born and mothers told me, “Don’t worry. It gets better Mama.”

I am beginning to think that this was a huge lie and that I am stuck in this misery forever.

Today is a day that I am searching for answers.

It has been a long time since my last post. I have been back in the United States and grounded since March, 18 2020 because of pregnancy and the pandemic. I am a mother to an almost 1 year-old boy now. My son Ilya was born on August 4, 2020 and my entire life has changed. Just getting the chance to sit down and write this took quite a bit of coordination. But I have so much to tell.

I hope to share with you the feelings that I am experiencing now. My goal is to be as raw and unfiltered as possible. The human experience is beautiful and complex. Each of us have a story to be heard and I hope you find something to take away from mine.

I have just returned from a month-long language learning vacation to Munich, Germany. I enrolled in a German course there and spent one month living my dream, developing my language skills, and meeting great, new people.

I think that the experience changed me or influenced me in some way, and I am sorting all of that out now. It’s a big change to go from a conservative society,  with conservative dress, to a place where it’s okay to be naked in the park, which I saw on the first day that I arrived.

A German friend of mine said, “As Germans, I think we are one of the most emancipated and free populations.” When I spoke about my experience living in the Middle East, she commented on how “brave” I was. She said that she has been all over the world, but has bypassed visiting any Arab country because she feels that her most important value, her freedom as a woman to dress and act how she wants, would be compromised.

I find these conversations quite interesting. For me, I view the typical European as someone very open, educated, and globally minded. But, in many talks I found that these same people contradict themselves in a profound way. They seem to exclude Muslims and Arabs from their ideal society. They think that German lifestyle doesn’t fit with Arab lifestyle.  And, if an Arab wants any chance at living a happy, integrated life, they must change.

“I know we have an integration problem,” a friend of mine said. She continued, “But they [meaning immigrant men from the Middle East] come here and they are not used to the way we dress and live, and many times they insult girls walking on the street, which they probably would never do in their own countries,” she continued. “We have beautiful cities with historic skylines, and then they build a mosque and it ruins the outline of the city. It doesn’t fit.”

Europeans and Arabs feel strongly about preserving their own lifestyles, their identities. They feel pride in the way they do things, the clothing they wear, the activities they can or cannot participate in. Very few Germans would consider covering up and practicing a religion, and very few Arabs would consider the risk of not doing those things.

On my trip, I also heard the other side. I met many Arabs at German conversation circles, and I enjoyed hearing their stories. All of the Arabs that I met speak German very well and are happy with their new lives and opportunities. But, they also speak of their own countries….the food they miss, their mothers, the beautiful landscapes, the community, the traditions. These are all things that they cannot live without, but they seem to be managing anyway. They deserve a lot of respect for this.

I also feel this push and pull between this life and that now more than ever. I think it is because I had an amazing experience in Germany. It was especially great to see women surfing, sunbathing, and contributing to their societies, without the need to explain why. It is just who they are. And, it was a very freeing experience for me personally. I got to do things that I haven’t done in a long time– like feel the cool breeze on my neck, dance in a public places, ride a bicycle. These might seem like small things, but they are very taboo in the culture that I am currently living in.

Life is changing quickly for me now that I am back in the Gulf. My husband has returned to his country, Bahrain, after 7 years abroad in the United States. We’ve been living apart this year so that I could pursue my dream of working and traveling, and so that he could also work, and importantly; complete the green card process that we started 2 years ago.

I feel happy and nervous at the same time at his arrival. The past few days, my in-laws’ house has been full of visitors, wishing a warm welcome back after so many years away. It has been like Christmas every day with feasts, sweets, fruits, and bottomless glasses of tea. Visits are sometimes segregated, so men and women sit in separate rooms.  As a wife, these visits require a lot of patience, a lot of sitting, a lot of waiting for everyone to leave so that you can spend time with the person you miss so dearly.

This has given me time to think about my own values. The things I want to keep and the things I am willing to sacrifice.