One of the great things about going away on a big adventure — like the one I'm about to embark on — is that it brings out some really great advice from the wise people around you. One piece which I've heard recently, both from Rachael's mom and from a good friend who I worked with at Oregon Public Broadcasting named Katrina, is to set aside some time to figure out what I hope to get out of the two or more years I'll spend in Qatar with Rachael. This could very quickly balloon into a list with dozens of items, but I'll follow J.D. Meier's advice and just list three. So here they are:

Document my adventure

Simple in concept, but also the most difficult. I hope to manage a blog post or two per week with enough photographs to keep them interesting. I plan to put less emphasis on social media in the interest of saving those thoughts and ideas and spinning them into posts.

Learn enough Arabic to impress a few people and get by

This is a two-parter. So who cares about impressing people, right? Well, on the eve of moving to another country, I do. Maybe more than is healthy, but I do. And in my experience, there are few quicker ways to someone's heart — especially when they're from a different place than you — as speaking their language.

And what does getting by mean? I don't know. I'll have to reevaluate that as I go. On the front-end, though, I'm hoping that eventually I'll get to a place where I can order some food at a restaurant, book a room in a hotel, chat with a taxi driver, and get to my destination. We'll see how that goes.

Have fun

The image at the top is from the background on my computer. I leave it up there to remind myself that fun really, really needs to be a part of my life's equation. Not the only part, of course, but one of the big ones. I'm listing that on here as a goal because it's easy to forget about. When I went to Cuba and France on study abroad trips in college I spent a lot of my time away wishing I wasn't, and I know I missed out on some amazing things because of it. Things may be easier back home, or less lonely, or more familiar, or whatever, but I'm not there, and here is the only place I can have fun.

Having gone through this leaving Portland thing less than two years ago (back when I moved to Boston to work for WGBH), I feel like this time around I'm leaving with a clearer mind about what I'll miss once I'm gone. At the top of that missing list, of course, is my people. You can find reasonable approximations of just about anything, anywhere, but there'll never be a replacement for the people who you love and depend on.

Perhaps even more importantly than the people, though, are the changes in their lives that you miss out on when you're away, and it's especially dramatic with a niece and nephew who are still very young. When I left for Boston my niece Claudia (pictured above) was just over two-years-old. She would say a word here and there, but she didn't have a lot of verbal personality (I'm sure her mom disagrees). So I couldn't be around while she learned to communicate her ideas and feelings through words. We talked on Skype quite a bit, and I was able to visit regularly, but still, you get the idea.

Qatar will make those divisions even more dramatic. I won't be able to fly home like I did while I was living in Boston, and who knows if Skype will even be an option.

Of course, distance can bring clarity and depth to some relationships. Being apart from Rachael while I was in Boston taught me a tremendous amount about our relationship (that it was sustainable, for one), and it also gave me a chance to figure out who else I could depend on back home when I needed to talk or catch up (my sister and mom, for example).

When you compare satellite images of Doha and Portland (see above) one is basically brown and one is more or less green. I'll miss the green. So, naturally, Rachael and I have been doing a lot of hiking in and around Portland. We go to Tryon Creek about twice per week, and have also made a handful of trips out to Gifford Pinchot, the Tillamook State Forest, and the Siuslaw National Forest.

Sometimes people say that they love the green of Western Oregon but hate the rain, but I'm not one of those. I'm not always crazy about the rain, especially come March or April, but I know full well what it brings. We won't see much of it in Doha (average is about three inches per year, a tenth of what Portland gets), so I've been making a point of going outside and looking up during the few showers Portland has gotten over the summer.

Before I wrap this up, there's one more thing I'm all but certain I'll miss while I'm in Qatar: ease. Truth is, things like going to the bank, getting a cell phone, going to the grocery store, or mailing a package are just easier at home. There are a thousand privileges bestowed upon Americans (Netflix, for one) that you have to say goodbye to (for the most part) when you go overseas. Not to mention the fact that when you're home you know how things work. It'll be awhile before things start to get easier in Qatar.

A couple guys came to our house Wednesday to pack up all of our stuff and send it to the other side of the planet. Part of our job contracts included shipping of about 850 pounds of personal effects, and here's more or less how we filled it up:

• Clothes (work and otherwise)
• Sun hats
• A few pairs of shoes
• Books
• Board games
• Decorations like framed pictures and a couple paintings, plus some odds and ends like a paper crane mobile
• Electronics like a computer, printer, and boombox
• Toiletries we expect to be unavailable or much more expensive in Qatar
• Cooking supplies like knives, a couple cutting boards, a few pans, a pot, and a strainer
• Counseling supplies (for Rachael, who'll be working as a counselor in Qatar)

You wouldn't expect all of that stuff to come to 850 pounds, but it did. And it nearly filled up a container approximately five feet cubed.

For the record, Qatar doesn't allow you to bring in alcohol, pork, or pornography. Obviously we never had any plans to bring any of that stuff in, but it's a little more complicated than excluding Playboy and rum. I had a few photography books which included nudes which I left behind, and we also had to leave out our vanilla extract, which contains alcohol.

Since we were handling the shipping, we could choose to send our stuff via ship or plane, though our employers in Qatar recommended against sea shipment because of possible delays. Air was more expensive, but our shipping allowance should cover it either way, so we opted for air.

When we asked our shipping agent how long it would take to get there, he said about a week, and most of that time would be spent waiting for it to clear customs in Qatar. Once it does clear customs we'll arrange to have the stuff dropped off at our house (which we still don't know anything about). That's the plan, anyway.

On July 20, 2013, Rachael and I said our vows in front of a few family and friends in Hood River, Oregon. And then we took pictures, ate, drank, and hung out. It was perfect.

Rachael and I first decided to get married out of bureaucratic necessity back in February. We could both go to Qatar (we're headed there in August to work at an international school) as single people, but due to the strict social code there we wouldn't be able to live together, and if we were caught doing anything even remotely romantic, we could've been arrested and jailed. So, better to err on the safe side and go there as a married couple since that's essentially how we already carry ourselves. And anyway, it probably would've taken something like moving to Qatar to force our hands into marriage. Why go through the trouble of signing a document when you can get 95 percent of the marriage benefits (minus filing jointly and visitation rights) without actually getting married? If you're moving to Qatar, the trouble is definitely worth it.

We originally planned it as a paperwork sort of wedding with just a couple of friends and a judge, but once we started planning it, the wedding grew to include lots of family and a few friends. The planning process was stressful at times (I remember asking my sister, who was married a few years, if she was tired of her wedding before it even started), but in the end the planning was worth it.

Part of the ceremony included a speech by Gordy, Rachael's father, in which he talked about the things we have in common. One of those things is frugality, as exemplified by the wedding itself. We wanted it to be a sort of barn raising-style event, so instead of hiring a caterer we asked a few people to help us turn it into a potluck. Instead of hiring a photographer, we asked a favor of a close friend. Instead of paying thousands for a venue, we talked to a couple Rachael's parents know who live in a beautiful house in Hood River. It's probably impolite to talk about numbers, but the whole affair only cost around $4,000, a far cry from the median wedding cost in 2012 of about $18,000. Not bad.

One of my favorite parts of the wedding was the ceremony itself, for a few reasons. First, because it was officiated by two people I deeply respect, a couple named Jane and Joan. (And they have goats, which doesn't hurt.) Here's a picture of us with them:

The ceremony also meant a lot to me because of the readings by Rachael's dad, Gordy, and my mom, Dawn. They painted a fun portrait of us as kids, including lots of stuff I had forgotten about myself. There aren't a lot rituals in our society that mark transition from one life-phase to another, so it was especially meaningful to see that transition lined out during the ceremony. Finally, I really liked the vows that Rachael I wrote for each other:

Finally, here's a picture of me and my ridiculously good-looking siblings and their partners:

Rachael and I will be on the other side of the globe in a few short weeks, but that doesn’t mean we have to be forgo contact with people back home. We’ve been doing some thinking on the technology that’ll make staying in touch easier. Here’s what we’ve come up with so far.

Texting

In the interest of avoiding the cost of texting internationally, we’re using a free texting service called What’s App. What’s App. It’s available for Android and iPhone.

Once you install it on your phone, you’ll automatically see Rachael and I available for chatting (as long as we’re already listed as contacts in your phone). Then you’ll be able to send us messages instantaneously without worrying about texting charges.

E-mail

This one is pretty self-explanatory and the same as always. Hit us up via email at alexmontjohn@gmail.com and rachaelmolitor@gmail.com.

Video chat

Rachael and I are both on Skype, though we’re not logged in regularly. If you want to chat just email or text and let us know a good time. We can do Google Chat, too. Just let us know.

Phone

I don’t expect that we’ll be able to spend much time on the phone while we’re over there, but once I have a phone number in Qatar I’ll list it here just in case someone has to get a hold of me in an emergency.

Mailing address

I doubt we’ll ever have a mailing address (it was only a few years ago that the government in Qatar started naming all streets). But I bet we’ll be able to use our school as a sort of intermediary. I’ll have more on that when I know more.

Social Media

I'm on twitter under the handle @alxmjo. You can also find me on Facebook and Instagram. I check all of them regularly, so they're as easy a place to contact and follow as any.

Blog

Probably goes without saying, but I update this blog regularly with action and adventure. You can follow along via Feedly by clicking here.

Photo at the top by Cali.

There are a bunch of ways to prepare for a new job and a new home, and most of them have to do with stuff. Getting stuff documented, approved, packed, shipped. But how do you prepare the stuff inside yourself?

The thought hadn’t really crossed my mind until Rachael and I received an early wedding present from Jane and Joan, close friends. They set up a meeting for Rachael, me, Mike, and Liz with a woman who does cross-cultural training for Nike named Julie Resnick. When foreigners move to the United States to work for Nike, she helps them adjust to the culture. And when Nike sends their employees overseas, she helps them prepare for the cultural adjustment of living in a new place. But rather than teaching about the culture, she focuses on how to adjust to it. She’s sort of like a counselor that focuses on culture shock.

I wasn’t expecting much from the couple hours we planned to spend with her on a rainy morning in June, but it ended up being incredibly helpful. I’m familiar with how cultural change is likely to affect me personally, having moved out of Oregon three times now, but meeting with Julie gave Rachael, Mike, Liz, and me a chance to discuss how the change is likely to affect us as couples, and as a group of friends.

One of the activities Julie had us do was to write down the perceived positives and negatives of moving to Doha, from the perspective of our partner, so Rachael tried to imagine what I was looking forward to and what I was worried about, and vice versa, and the same for Mike and Liz. Here’s what Rachael imagined to be my positives and negatives:

Positives

• New challenges culturally
• A place of our own
• Working in a school
• Ease of travel
• Taking the summer off
• Going to a new place with friends
• Getting married
• Introducing family to a new culture
• New things to take pictures of

Negatives

• Leaving family
• Putting off a master’s program
• Being in a school
• Lack of a clear purpose
• Feeling like our time there is not our own
• Less autonomy
• Being away from Portland
• Things being more difficult
• Can’t take the Bill of Rights with us
• Feeling like Rachael is leading and I’m just along for the ride

Obviously she was just guessing for me, but most of these were accurate. Of course, the negatives aren’t necessarily negatives. They could also be looked at as challenges or opportunities for growth.

We had that meeting quite a few weeks ago. And at the time I would’ve said that I was pretty positive and excited about heading to Qatar. Now, about three weeks before we’re set to leave, I don’t think I could be more excited. The negatives are still there, and they’re still real, but they’re just way less important in my mind than the main positive, which is this: We’re going on an adventure!

In a post a few months ago, I explained that I was leaving Boston and The Takeaway (a radio show I used to work on) in preparation for a new adventure. I didn’t elaborate much on that future adventure, but now that it’s about to begin, I figure I better explain what’s next.

Before I go into the background, I’ll cut to the chase of where Rachael and I are headed in 22 days: we’re moving to Qatar on August 19 to work at the Qatar Academy Al Wakra, an elementary school just south of the capitol, Doha.

As with a lot of things, this big change in our lives has been a long time coming. Rachael grew up overseas, and we’ve planned on getting overseas since we started dating. But for the first few years we had our undergrad degrees holding us together, and then Rachael started a master’s program in counseling. As her graduation approached, we started to make a plan for going overseas: we’d look at international schools and try to find a job for me, too.

Rachael started to look at schools who were hiring counselors via a hiring agency called Search Associates. Within a few months she was speaking with schools in Germany, Egypt, and China. The school in China sounded especially promising because they said they might be able to find a job for me too. (At the time, Rachael and I agreed that in order for the move overseas to work, one of us would have to have a pretty solid job and the other would at least have to have something to do, whether work, volunteer, or something similar.)

In mid-February, Rachael and I went to a job fair in San Francisco organized by Search Associates. At the time, I was in Boston for a radio show called The Takeaway. I was comfortable in the job, but knew that eventually I’d be overseas, so I was interested to see what the job fair would turn up.

Two of our friends went to the Search fair, too. We know Mike and Liz from Portland, where Liz recently finished law school and Mike was working as a music teacher in Lake Oswego. Years ago we had talked about how cool it would be to move overseas together, and they were obviously still interested.

At the fair we talked with schools based in Egypt, Cameroon, Ecuador, Lebanon, and, just as things were starting to wind down, we talked with an elementary school based in Doha, Qatar. Before the end of the day, Rachael had an offer to work as a counselor, Mike had an offer to work as one of their music teachers, and I had an offer to work as a jack-of-all-trades substitute teacher. The school’s representatives, a woman from Lebanon and another from Seattle, said they wanted to know if we were in by 3 p.m. the next day.

Needless to say, Rachael and I didn’t sleep much that night. Agreeing to go to Qatar would bring more changes than we’ve ever experienced, either alone or as a couple, in just a few months. To list a few:

• Quitting my job in Boston
• Putting my career in journalism on hold
• Moving back to Portland to prepare everything
• Getting married to Rachael (not explicitly required, but it’d make things much, much easier paperwork-wise)
• Moving to the other side of the globe (almost exactly)

The next morning Rachael and I met Mike and Liz and their baby, Piper, at a cafe to figure out whether we were going to do this or not. I don’t remember ever saying it explicitly, but if they were out, I didn’t really want to be in. I trust their judgement a lot, and if they thought it wouldn’t work for them I felt like there was a really good chance it wouldn’t work for us, either. In the beginning, most of us were skeptical. In fact, if we were forced to decide right then and there, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be going to Qatar.

After breakfast we met up the representatives from the school, Dawn (from Lebanon), and Melissa (from Seattle). We asked them a ton of questions, like:

• What happens if we get there and the baby gets asthma?
• What happens if we break our contract?
• Can we leave the country?
• Where will we live?
• Do Rachael and Liz have to wear the abaya?
• Can Alex and Liz or Mike and Rachael go out in public together?

That meeting made me feel a little bit better, but I think I was still a no. It just seemed too much like a scam. Well-paying job with friends overseas? Must be too good to be true.

The five of us went to In-N-Out for some Animal Style burgers and then headed to Liz’s cousin’s house in San Francisco. While we were driving, we started to call family members to discuss the decision we were on the verge of making. I called my mom to say that we weren’t sure yet, but that there was a chance that we would be moving to the Middle East. That didn’t sit well.

Up at Liz’s cousin’s house, we spent a lot of time talking and checking in with each other. In or out? In or out? As 3 p.m. approached I kept waffling, though I did my best to keep my opinions to myself. I wanted to discuss the options without swaying anyone else’s decision. Ultimately, though, it was simple. We’d either continue our lives as we knew them, or do our best to create new ones in Qatar.

I’m not sure what forced the decision, but once we had decided to err on the side of adventure, I felt good about the decision. It was scary, sure, but it just felt wrong to turn down this sort of an opportunity, regardless of whether it’ll end up being positive or negative in the end.

So, after signing the contracts and sending pictures of them to our bosses-to-be, we popped a bottle of champagne. In six months, we’d be in Doha.

Photo at the top by Mohammed Nairooz.

When I first started to tell people that Rachael and I were moving to the Middle East, and that we were taking a short trip there in May, one of the first questions people would ask was: "Is it safe there?" What they're really asking, I think, is if petty crime is high, whether kidnappings are common, or if Qatar or Lebanon is a sworn enemy of the United States (they're not).

I can't speak for Qatar since we haven't moved there yet, but I feel relatively safe in Lebanon. That's just my perception, of course. I'm not an actuary, and I can't say for sure what is safe or unsafe here.

That said, there are two things here in Lebanon that make me fear for my safety [Mom, you can stop reading here]: Violence as the result of terrorism and war is the minor worry, and cars, motorcycles, or basically anything with wheels is the major worry. I'll start with the minor worry.

Yesterday we traveled to a Anjar, which is right on the border with Syria, and to Baalbek, the headquarters of Hezbollah, which is classified as a terrorist organization by the United States. It's important to point out though that Hezbollah isn't an international network like Al Qaeda. It's a political party in Lebanon that gained prominence for driving Israel out of the country in 2006. They build hospitals and schools, and hold seats in parliament. In many ways, they're not so different from political parties or the military in any country: they want to defend their people, and they'll do some unsavory things to accomplish that goal. That said, they have been accused of suicide bombings against Israelis, Americans, and people from France.

Needless to say, the fact that we were traveling in Hezbollah territory was never far from my mind. The neon green Hezbollah flag flies from many lampposts, and they've erected large posters on the sides of highways in commemoration of their martyrs. All of this is compounded by the fact that Hezbollah is aligned with Assad and the Syrian government, which the American government could eventually be at war with (not probable, but possible). It's less obvious to the naked eye, but it still makes you think.

So how would all of this effect my safety? I don't know. I guess that if the United States did enter some sort of conflict with Syria we'd probably avoid the Hezbollah regions of Lebanon, if not the entire country. But it still occupies my mind. I don't like to be in tightly crowded areas, whether in or out of a vehicle, because it makes me think about a bombing. Similarly, I'd rather not be in big groups of Westerners because I know it makes us stand out. We're probably totally safe, but every once in a while I think I consider the fact that if someone wanted to hurt a bunch of Americans and make it into the news, we'd be an excellent target.

Despite my occasional worries, recent history says that getting hurt or killed in Lebanon as the result of violence is unlikely. Unfortunately, I don't think I can say the same for my major worry, which is getting hurt in a car, or getting hit by a car.

When we drove in from the airport a week ago, the first thing that stuck out was the lack of people wearing seat belts. This isn't uncommon in many countries, and I suppose I should've expected it, but it still caught me off guard. Next was the traffic: fast, rarely staying in lanes, weaving in and out. Again, not uncommon, but still a dramatic transition since it's been a couple years since I've been out of the country. One thing that I saw on the drive into Beirut that I hadn't seen anywhere else was a handful of kids on street motorcycles popping wheelies at 60 miles per hour. I suppose there's a first time for everything.

After a few days walking around and riding in taxis, I began to sense that even though the drivers appear crazy, passing and weaving with tiny margins between their cars, they can actually be sort of courteous. You have to look closely, but they'll let one another pass and merge. Not so surprising in the United States, but you don't expect it in a place like Lebanon.

Still, you can't help but think about safety. Especially after seeing car accidents and blood on the road.

Our hosts, Rachael's aunt and uncle, don't often buckle up in cabs, even when seat belts are available (they aren't always). I'm not sure if they've grown used to the local customs or if they just don't expect anything bad to happen, but I still find myself reaching for the seatbelt as soon as we get in a car. When my seat has a belt and Rachael's doesn't, I reach my arm over her in the totally unrealistic belief that I could keep her safe if we got into an accident.

When it comes to being a pedestrian, I'm constantly reminded that even when I'm walking on the sidewalk, it's not really my turf. Cars are often parked there, and sometimes people drive their scooters and motorcycles down the sidewalk when the traffic is particularly bad.

So there you have it, the two things I think about while I'm walking around Lebanon, trying not to stand out, and looking both directions before I cross the street.

While I was sitting in the back of a plane on my way to Lebanon, I read an elegant essay by Dane Wisher about living and working in Qatar as an expat. In short, he describes how complaining about Qatar and longing for home is an almost central part of expat life in Qatar, then channels Thomas Wolfe in saying that "as much as you miss home, the home you miss doesn’t exist. If it did, you’d still be there, probably."

I've now spent a little over two years of my life living away from my native Oregon, and I've spent much of that missing and longing for home. This could've been easily solved by never traveling, never moving. If you never leave home, you can't miss it.

But just as I missed home once I left, I'd often dream of travel once I returned home. I guess that's the polar, grass is greener nature of life at home, and life on the road.

Getting to Qatar and being overwhelmed by homesickness is one of my greatest fears. It will be, without a doubt, the furthest I've ever been from home, both geographically and culturally. A few of the challenges, as I imagine them:

• I'll be on the other side of the globe.
• Keeping in touch with folks in Oregon will be complicated by laggy internet and an eleven hour time difference.
• The language barrier will be tall and strong.
• There will not be just one culture to penetrate, but several (Western expat, Asian expats, Qataris, etc.).
• I'll be working in a new and undoubtedly challenging job.

All of this will combine into one challenge to rule them all: staying positive.

A couple nights ago Rachael and I had dinner with a Lebanese family who spent three years living and working in Qatar. They told us stories about the driving, the heat, the dust, the Qatari work ethic (or lack thereof), the challenges of communicating, the cost of living, the lack of things to do, and so on. They're description was very negative, and had I not already braced myself for the challenges we're likely to face in Qatar, I'm sure I would've found it extremely disconcerting. But I expected most of what they said, and knew that Qatar would be a significant challenge before I signed up to work there.

I had a similar conversation the next day with a couple of teachers who work at an international school in Cairo. They said that they really like the school, but that Cairo leaves plenty to be desired. It's dirty and unsafe, they said, and the revolution seems to be making things worse. I expect that our problems in Qatar, whatever they turn out to be, will pale in comparison.

Still, I'm not expecting to like much of what we'll see and experience in Qatar. So why move?

If Rachael and I could have nice jobs close to friends and family in a place that was intellectually stimulating and offered all the comforts of home, it'd be hard to pass up. But as Dane Wisher says, that place doesn't exist. So off to Qatar we go.

Landed in Beirut early Sunday afternoon after a little over 24 hours en route from Portland with brief stopovers in Washington, D.C. and Frankfurt, Germany. Susan and Henry, Rachael's aunt and uncle, met us at the airport with a balloon that said "Welcome." A brief and terrifying trip by cab brought us into central Beirut where they live.

The first impression, besides seeing and hearing a ton of Arabic, is the driving. Thank god most of these cabs still have seat belts, but they don't seem to be very popular. I'm sure Rachael and I are immediately pegged for foreigners when we reach for our seat belts, but I'm OK with that.

On our first night here, Rachael and Susan and I took a walk along the corniche (a wide sidewalk along the ocean) and witnessed what it means to live in a liberal Middle Eastern country. This is most obviously expressed in clothing, of course.

Here's a photo of the corniche, looking north:

Having never traveled to a Middle Eastern country, I had this idea that everyone would dress more or less the same, and that the clothes would be conservative. From my limited exposure, that's not the case. On one walk along the corniche I saw everything from women in abayas (though I didn't see any wearing the niqab, the face covering through which you can only see the eyes) to one woman jogging in shorts and a tanktop made of spandex. The men were similarly diverse, though less restrictively clothed. I saw a number sunning themselves in only their underwear, though most of them were wearing pants or longer shorts and t-shirts or polos.

Back to the flat for dinner (the view from the balcony around sunset above) and eventually sleep. The next morning Rachael and I made a video tour of the place:

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIrWaqr4tIQ?rel=0&w=748&h=421]