Twelve Arabian Nights

Living in Oregon, I have learned that the summer sun takes its slow, sweet time to show up and then it shines only briefly. As for the other nine months of the year, it’s like living in a freak gestational rain period where muck boots are fashionable and the color of your umbrella identifies who you are in the sea of buttoned-up coats and tightly-drawn hoodies.

But it’s finally around the middle of June when days become less gray and the forecasts calling for rain start to fade in recent memory. Then maybe there’s a week that goes by without drizzle. Then a trend develops until we realize that it’s not a cruel joke, that the summer sun has made its three month appearance and it’s time to take advantage of it. Even Mt. Hood’s peak appears to reach up to the elusive sun with its conical welcome, trying to funnel down the glorious rays to grow its meadows and feed its trees for the hikers and campers to enjoy. But the best part of all about living above the 45th parallel is when daytime activities on the mountain are exhausted and it’s time to descend back in to the city for fun in the cool summer nights. And the best summer nights take place at a local Arabic café.

Situated East of downtown and open 24 hours is a lively international café with a huge outdoor seating area. Coffee and tea (kawa and chai) are brewed all night long and exotic pastries and sticky baklava are rolled out on baking sheets. The smells of freshly roasted Arabica beans, toasted pistachios, cinnamon and cardamom weave through the grid patterns of the city blocks, impossible for passers-by to resist. It’s here where my husband and I like to meet up with our closest friends who are comprised of two other married couples. All of us have children who attend the same school and over the years, that association has grown into full-fledged friendships.

Saturday evenings start out with greetings of peace (salaam! ) to each other as we claim our favorite table next to the outdoor fireplace which is already lit in anticipation of inevitable coolness. It is followed by the ritual of the ordering of the kawa and chai in its many glorious forms. Tiny ceramic cups of steaming liquids appear with sugar cubes and small spoons lying innocently on the saucer. Animated conversations ricochet between us and are layered with good intentions like the Phyllo dough of the pastries we’ll order soon. But first, we eat kebab.

Kamran and Lisa always bring halal chicken and beef kebab from the Iranian restaurant up the street. Take-out boxes full of Basmati rice topped with saffron resemble the yellow of the quickly fading twilight. Roasted whole tomatoes ooze juice of a brilliant red. Grilled lemon halves are squeezed recklessly over the food. The kebab themselves are steaming and the spicy smells of Persia draw envious glances from neighboring tables who didn’t think ahead.

Food and hours are consumed while viewpoints on politics, religion, education and family are given and treated with respect. As the night switches colors to midnight blue-black, there’s usually a rare moment when we’re all quiet at the same time. Cuddled up in fleece and our spouses, some of us are looking up at the scintillating stars. Some are taking drags off a hookah which smells like apples, peaches and mint.

I then declare that I am full; full of great food, sweets, caffeine, amitie and the comforting exhaustion that can only come from such a night. It’s now time to go so I rest my head against my husband’s shoulder and close my eyes. Most times, he reaches up and lays his hand against my exposed cheek and asks if I’m too cold. That’s my favorite moment when I love him all over again. He settles the bill for my caffeine addiction while we make plans with our friends for next Saturday night. Partings of peace (salaam!) are given along with wishes for a good health.

We hope that we will have at least until September together before inclement weather takes away our stars and our place next to the outdoor fireplace. But we know that the memories of our twelve Arabian nights with great friends will keep us company throughout the upcoming rains.