STORIES, STORIES

True story: a few days ago, I wasn’t exactly having a fantastic morning and felt like skipping work or the entire day even, to just stay in bed playing Candy Crush until my brain was super-fried (I do this on regular days too, but that’s another true story). I’d already been dressed for work, and on my way out, I paused to spray on some perfume from my old bottle of Versace Vanitas. And just like that, suddenly I was invigorated. I was suddenly Charlize Theron in a luxury brand commercial wearing an expensive dress, wind from an invisible electric fan strategically blowing my gorgeous hair out of my naturally flawless face, walking in slow motion towards the camera. I felt like a million dollars (I’m pretty sure a million dollars doesn’t feel that way, but how would I know). It’s not perfume in general that gives me that romantic-comedy good-looking leading-lady-of-the-moment feels, it’s very specific fragrances. When I was growing up, my mother attended many social event...

It's common for expatriates here in Malaysia to live in condominiums that provide residents access to a swimming pool, and living in one and being able to just hang out by the pool and go for a swim on the weekends always puts me on that constantly-on-holiday vibe. I don't take advantage of this quite as often as I can or should. I remember growing up in Jeddah, how we'd have family pool parties with other expat family friends, or go rent an istira7a  (a private villa enclosed in high walls with a swimming pool), or have cookouts in the pool area of Saudi friends' homes. None of these involve alcohol – at least 90% of the time it didn't! – and they mostly happened during the day within the private confines of someone's residence. Coming from a conservative, religious family meant that when these happened, it was rare to have a mixed group. Often, we'd have two pools – one for men, another for women – or if there was one pool, there'd be separate set...

I recently renewed my contract to work in Malaysia for another 2 years, which means I get a second stab at this, which means yet another clean slate. The universe has always been generous with me when it comes to clean slates, so salud , universe! My second wind was off to a great start, with not one, not two, but three chances to (re)connect with some very important people. Since I moved here to Malaysia in 2013, I've been fortunate enough to have so many Saudi friends drop by, keep me grounded, and remind me that I'm worth something – at least worth a visit from thousands of miles away. It's a lovely feeling, and I am not without gratitude! Hning's Asia Obviously when the fantastic oddball and Saudi cewebrity Alia (and long-time friend of this blog!) showed up at my Malaysian doorstep, I went nuts. I hadn't seen this woman in years , and on my way to the airport to pick her up, I felt the same way I would whenever I get to see my own sister or my brothe...

Hey there, you dear old blog-friend. Guess what I've gone and done? I've moved Another Sidebar (just like they moved the island in Lost ) and it's up and running. Give it a look-see and join us there! I'm still doing my personal blogging here, and you'll all still be forcefully subjected to my opinions and stories, so do say hello every once in a while. It gets lonely out here on the intertubules sometimes. Oh, and if you're back-reading posts here and you're like WTF?, don't be. They're contributions for Another Sidebar. Enjoy!

The Fairytale of Third Cinema by Kathryn Narciso a. Little Brown Americans We are nothing but them. When the ruling giant came to town, we didn’t break loose, and just sucked up the flavors of the new, almost forgetting the old. The nation’s elite was guilty of kissing the mestizos and language was shared tongue-to-tongue, skin-to-skin, until little brown Americans were born to this nation and grew up becoming second-class citizens of their own homeland. It was like allowing a thief inside your home: fed him when he’s hungry, gave him drink when he’s thirsty, warmed him up when he’s cold. Flesh and blood for spit. The cycle repeats itself, again and again: you offer your flesh for flesh, blood for blood, but you only get spit and still say Thank You. b. The Unholy Communion When Hollywood was preached outside its birthplace, the rest of the world took its chalice and drank from it. Not one has come clean after the communion. It’s a religion without confession. The converts were s...

Stories That (Probably) Need Telling by Nessreen I’m not gonna lie. I was reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s The Thing Around Your Neck , a collection of short stories about the experiences and thoughts of Nigerian women from different backgrounds, when I decided to finally, actually in-real-life-and-not-just-imagining-it , write the book I had been putting off for years now. There’s nothing more inspiring than reading a brilliant storyteller, but now I know that inspiration is one thing, and actually putting in the work is another (why do I know this only now ?). Obvi it wasn’t going to be easy, and I knew that off the bat. I have mediocre writing skills (I generally speak better than I write, I promise you), horrible writing habits, a glaring lack of writing accomplishments, and an inflated sense of grandeur, which all meant that tackling this mountain that is writing a book is exactly the kind of thing I would go for. And so here we are. In 2013, I left Saudi Arab...

On Podcasts by Khayra Bundakji I ’ m not sure why or how it happened, but music never was a part of my life like it was for my peers. Whenever anyone would offer to the conversation how moved a song made them, it just wouldn ’ t register. Much like boys, much like makeup, much like fashion, it was yet another socially ostracising quirk of mine to not connect with or remember lyrics of music. Then one day, on my daily 45-minute commute to university, I discovered NPR. Terry Gross from Fresh Air , Ira Flato from Science Friday , and the gang from GeekSpeak added a dimension to my grayscale Saudi life I didn ’ t realise I lacked. This was before I had friends to discuss science or pop culture. Finding radio shows that felt I was amongst friends reunited me with a piece of my heart I didn ’ t know existed.     Once I gluttonously got through international podcasts, I desperately searched for something that would speak to me. Something, say, in Jeddah. Leading me ...