Hobnobbing with Saudi Diplomats then Getting Bossed by the Maid

I'm doing computer housekeeping and I just found my journal entry of September 12, 2007. It predated inauguration of this blog so I didn't post it at the time.

My wife and I had an interesting evening last night (September 11). We were invited by the Saudi ambassador to a major reception commemorating Saudi Arabia's national day. My wife is his son's school librarian and several of the boy's teachers and school administrators were invited. It was in a real swanky hotel and there was food in every direction from appetizers to whole roast sheep to an endless variety of to-die-for desserts. At first I tried to eat only with my right hand but that was awkward because we were standing, holding little plates as well as our (non-alcoholic) drink glasses. Also, I soon noticed that nobody else was worried about that.

Lots of people were there from the Chavez government including the former Vice President of Venezuela. There were some American embassy people, and lots of business persons and other diplomats of various nationalities. Most of the women dressed fairly conservatively out of respect for the host but there were a couple of "over the top" (in every sense of the word) highly revealing cocktail dresses worn by a few of the Venezuelan women. We met the ambassador and several Saudi diplomats in the reception line. Generally they greeted us in Spanish and hospitably switched to English when they realized we were Americans. They were wearing those little red and white checkered head scarves and had the obligatory little mustaches and goatees. There were some other guys in robes and Santa hats who looked like the notorious blind Sheik. Most of the Arab women were wearing the full hair covering things but none were wearing veils. The ambassador's wife looked a bit more modern with some pretty bright clothes and a more moderate headscarf that allowed some hair exposure.

We had quite a long conversation with the only Chavez supporter that we know here and her husband. They're both very nice folks and revere Chavez just as much as all our other very nice Venezuelan friends despise him. There seems to be no in between.

It is interesting to see how amiably the Saudis and the Venezuelans get along seeing as the former are tee-totalers who hide their women under bags and the latter are party drinkers who glorify and display the sexuality of their women. I guess they are united by their common purpose to provide oil to the thirsty US at as high a price as possible.

The Saudis gave each guest a gift as we left. It was a large beautiful print of a Saudi Beach and a folder with material from the Saudi Ministry of Culture and Information.

Morning after now: It is maid day. That happens twice per week now but my wife still makes me wash dishes the night before. Maria, our young maid, usually has lots of questions for me and occasional assignments. She is a talented exterminator so my wife had asked her to zap the termites living in our cupboards and bar with her trusty cure-all chemical, "Vensol". That was not without complications as I have dramatized below, translating our dialogue into English.

Maria: Senor Johnny, can you fix this thing (showing me the hypodermic needle she uses to inject poison into the termite holes in our cabinets; it had a swelled and stuck rubber piston.)

I got it loosened and moving again with much friction.

Me: OK now, but you make suck much slowly. .

Maria: (later) It broke again.

Me: Oh. That sad.

Maria: What are you going to do about it?

Me: Uh

Maria: What are you going to do about it now?

Me: OK, I go pharmacy buy new one now. What it word?

Maria: Injectadora and while you're at it stop by the grocery store and buy some green plantains, potatoes, and chicken bouillon. (She's actually supposed to do the grocery shopping.)

Me: OK

Maria: Take your umbrella. It looks like it's going to rain.

Maria got the job done, even finding and harpooning one of the larva to show me. She fed me well, as usual. Yesterday's lunch was something like Beaufort stew except with chicken instead of shrimp and with a gigantic mountain of white rice. I have tried to tell her that I like her rice but that I prefer brown rice and much smaller portions. The only part that comes across is that I like her rice.