I sleep like a rock, but the sound of strong, forceful winds woke me up at 2:30 this morning. I thought it was raining, too, but when I left for work later this morning, I realized it was just the wind.
It was a mighty, strong, cold, unrelenting wind.
I was reminded of Winnie the Pooh and his blustery day.
The blowing sand feels like table salt blowing through an industrial size fan. It stings. And if you're in it long enough, it hurts. It feels like you're being buffed with a loofah sponge at the very least, and with sandpaper when it's really bad.
No matter how well made structures are, (homes, offices, etc.), the fine, powdery sand finds its way into every building and onto every surface. And on a day like this, there will be "puddles" of sand all over the place, inside buildings.
In my office, I have a kettle for boiling water, along with some cups for making coffee, that sit under a well-sealed window. Everything is always covered in sand, but today it was especially so. Try as I might, I couldn’t get it all out without a vacuum, so my coffee was gritty, like when coffee grinds seep through or like Turkish coffee, which is the closest thing to gritty motor oil that you’ll ever drink.
The sidewalks are made out of marble and are very slippery with the layers of sand. I’ve given up on trying to look cute with fancy high-heeled shoes. My footwear is, first and foremost, practical.
It’s funny how things work out.
I’ve never liked sand. I have sweaty feet and the sand would always stick to them. It took like three showers to be sand-free after a walk on the beach.
Now look at me.
On any given day, I’m knee-deep in sand.
I have a practical understanding of the term “quicksand.” It’s no joke when you step and solid ground is elusive. You just keep going down and down, deeper and deeper.
I feel bad for the folks who wear contacts. They must really suffer in these blustery conditions.
This is when you can see where the head scarves that both the men and women wear, really are multifunctional. They are big enough to cover their heads and to wrap across their faces, or, in wind like today, to completely cover their faces, to protect themselves from these harsh conditions.
I keep a shayla – the name for the scarf that the women wear – in my car. The winds can turn on a dime. One minute you’re experiencing a nice sunny day with calm winds, and the next moment, you’re in a sand storm. They’re really unpredictable. Of maybe they’re just unpredictable to ex-pats. I’m guessing the old timers who grew up in the desert, can see the storms coming. They know what to look for.
Anyway.
I'm home now, and the wind is still howling and blowing like crazy.
This is a slice of my world today.
More soon.
