Driving, Prayer and Flat-bread

I'm sitting here as the sun sets listening to the nightly call to prayer echoing across the city.  This is an event I'm going to have to start making time for in the evening, planning to be on my porch with a cocktail in hand.  It's one of those distinctly Middle-Eastern moments that's worth noticing and enjoying.  It feels kind of mysterious and beautiful, like many ancient traditions I suppose.  

Today, after a couple of false starts because of poor paperwork planning and preparation by Alicia and I (mostly me) I was able to obtain my very own U.A.E. driver's license.  The bureacracy was surprisingly efficient and once we got in the door the whole process didn't take more than 15 minutes.  I'd say that compares favorably to most of my DMV experi

ences back home.  Speaking of which, I hear from my mother that I'm no longer able to drive in my home state due to some, shall we say, disagreements about paying my required tribute to the local magistrate.  Fortunately the DMV here just wanted to see the copy of my American license and that was good enough for them.   I got home from the Library (Alicia is working late) and immediately took a long driving tour of our neighborhood and the major freeways to get my bearings (soundtrack: Radiohead's In Rainbows and Low's Drums and Guns).  All the expats here try to tell you how horrifying the driving is here and how crazy everyone is, and yes, there's a little bit of that, but after driving around town for an hour and a half during rush hour, I can submit to you folks back home that it is no worse than New York.    

I'm home now, and having finished another fantastic meal, I feel compelled to share the secret to my Middle Eastern Cooking Strategy:  Everything in the world tastes good to me if you put it on top of, or even nearby some nicely pan-toasted Arabian flat-bread.  I've eaten the compulsory hummus and lamb, and the less conventional chicken, cheese and mayo and today the bold combination of scrambled eggs, yogurt and cucumbers.  I'm telling you.  It's all fantastic.  The bread costs about 30 cents for 4 huge pieces.  I'm convinced that it will be a part of every meal I cook for myself.   And ya know, I'm feeling pretty good about that prospect. 

My pleasure.

Dear Miss Alicia,i really don't know how to thank you for hepling me today . You can't imagine how many years and time i spent trying to find this book .i really Thank you very much. i will never forget this assistance . -AA

Keep an eye on him for me, eh?

To Whom it May Concern,

I, A- S-, holder of Passport #97xxx02 and residency visa #11xxx-2, and legal sponsor of D- M-, passport #05xxx12, hereby give my full consent and permission for D- M- to seek and gain paid employment with any company at his discretion. 

I do insist that he be kept on premises during lunches and breaks.

Regards - AS.

Dr. Jones! Dr. Jones!

Alicia here. Today after work, Dan and I went over to the Grand Sahara to take in the 18:00 showing of Grandpa and the Hidden Jewels- er, eh, "Indiana Jones 4".  It was AWESOME!  Old Man Ford did a bunch of awesome stunts, including getting blown up in a nuclear blast in the Nevada desert.  (He survived, obviously). 

Did you know that they assign seats in the move theater in the Grand Cinema in the UAE? I've never heard of such a thing. But there were only about 6 people in the theater so we got to pick great seats. Before the show we had time to stop for some diet pepsi and Indian food and, by golly, by the end of the night I could have sworn it was high school 1953. Nothing like a nice wholesome soda pop and a PG-13 movie with the swearing cut out to make you feel young again. 

Pause for thought...

"First you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the women." -Scarface

Dan here.

So I was all geeked up about the job with AUD.   Seemed like the perfect gig.  Then I get a call out of the blue yesterday (Saturday).  I answer the phone thinking it's Alicia calling from the Library: "Hey."  Glad I didn't add "baby".  It was a man named Mohammed calling from a recruiting agency saying they had a position open with a major telecom providor, called Du, for a Collections Supervisor and would I be interested? 

"Sure, I'd be interested in discussing it."

"What salary would you require?"

"[double what I'm making at AUD]"

(quickly)"Ohyesyes, they're prepared to pay that.  Send your updated resume and we'll be in touch."

Hmmm....I know I said I wanted something more mellow than collections, but that does sound intriguing.  I guess I can be easily bought.  I told them in the interview at AUD that I wanted to work for an institution who's goals were something more than just the bottom line.  I guess everyone has his/her price.  

A New Librarian in the Mix

Yesterday we were paid a visit by a newly hired librarian, Catharina, from South Africa. She'll be starting in August at the beginning of the new school year. Hooray! I can hardly contain my excitement... I'm ready to get back to a 40 hour workweek.

In other news, I recently went to a system-wide meeting of librarians and supervisors (as alluded to in Abu Dhabi Wabi Tabi Babi or whatever... see below) and met a bunch of other people from around the system. Lo and behold... since then I've gotten about 5 "Facebook" friend requests from people who were at that meeting. It's a little uncanny. Small world indeed. Social networking? Who knew!

The good news is that I'm finding ways to not have to reinvent the wheel at Dubai Women's; if there's librarians like me all over the system needing to perform presumably the same tasks (reference, information literacy instruction, etc etc) then there MUST be ways that we can band together to make each others' lives easier. It's just a matter of getting the right piece of paper into the right hands, as Dan likes to say.

And in Other other news, I noticed that Oregon went heavily Obama after a rock-concert-esque style rally at Waterfront Park. I have to say I'm sad I missed it. And then Hillary suggested that she remain in the race because he might be assassinated? Tsk tsk, tact, tact. Seems like he's taking it OK though. That's what I like to see: lets all be friends, eh?

Lastly but not leastly, we've got a new student assistant working in the library named Ayda. She is a great assistant with a great attitude and wonderful work ethic and fantastic interpersonal skills, and she pulls out her mobile phone every time she is shelving so that she can double-check the order of the English alphabet. It's sooooooo sweet. 

New Stuff

Alicia here. In honor of Stanley's new job, we went shopping yesterday, after going out for an AWESOME brunch at More cafe (right). Dan had the best eggs benedict he's ever tasted. I had an omelette. They served us up bowls of fresh fruit, rustic breads and croissants, jams, lattes, and fresh squeezed juices. Then we went to the counter for a bunch of other stuff; chicken tarragon, balsamic lamb, beef provencal, cumin potatoes, and some caramelized banana bread and chocolate tart for dessert. Having scraped by without eating any cake, and therefore technically sticking to my get fit programme, I left in a good mood, feeling quite fat and sassy.

We rolled down to Wafi to cruise the rug scene since someone around here seems intent on purchasing a rug (I could wait until next year, personally) but didn't end up looking at rugs at all. We stumbled upon a suit shop selling cotton, silk and cashmere suits for next to nothing so Dan stopped in a bought one.  They're tailoring it now so it'll be ready to pick up tonight. A pretty sharp suit I'd say. With the class-factor balance between us having just been suddenly skewed, I picked myself up a new pair of classy sunglasses. Balance restored.

And just like that, I'm employed.

I got a job today. The American University in Dubai (right) has asked me to be their Financial Affairs Officer. This basically means I'll be keeping the books and making sure the students pay their bills (which apparently they are required to do in cash. Seriously. Cash.). I met with the Executive VP today. He really didn't ask me anything other than basic, "How long have you been in Dubai?" and "So you're planning on staying here for awhile?" Then it was, "Well Lily says she's really exited about you, so I'm fine with it. Welcome aboard. Go down to HR and we'll get the process rolling." Seriously. I interviewed with three different people at AUD and the toughest question I was asked was, "So, do you think you'd be comfortable with the accounting responsibilities?" To which I replied, "Yes. Yes, I do." To which the CFO replied. "OK then." I gotta say, I'm starting to like this country. And did I mention their letting me start Wednesday, then take 2 months off?

In addition, my visa finally came through, so I'm now a legal semi-permanent resident of this fair emirate, and on Tuesday I'll be getting my driver's license, which I'll need for starting my job Wednesday (hopefully no more than a 45 minute drive across town in somewhat nightmarish morning traffic) . Finally, after a month waiting in the passenger seat, I have the opportunity to show the maniac drivers all across Dubai who their daddy is during the morning commute. Expect bloodshed.

Seat Ibiza : Get it?

Alicia here. Behold ladies and gentlemen, an example photograph of the Seat Ibiza (Say-ott) which is the model of car of which we will soon be able to call ourselves "proud" owners. I've never heard of this car before, because if it was sold in America, everyone would be calling it a Seat like Meat. But it seems like a good car which I am acquiring second-hand from a seemingly reliable woman whose face and manner of speech I trust. More importantly, it's dirt cheap. Success!

Cochin, how I have dreamt of thee

Alicia here, reporting from Dubai. It's official: we're going to Cochin. We bought our tickets yesterday (the day after a 17% fare hike, hurrah) and on June 23rd will be headed on a Qatar Airways flight to beautiful, soggy Cochin, right in the heart of monsoon season.

Some of you may not know where Cochin is. If you look at the picture, you can probably guess that it is somewhere with tropical plants and muddy rivers, like Africa, South America, Southeast Asia or sometimes, an authentic reproduction of one of these areas in the Middle East. In fact, Cochin is located in the Southern Indian state of Kerala, which seems to be a very nice place on which the Portuguese left more than a few characteristic evil-colonialist marks, such as splendid architecture and Christian holidays.

We considered flying to Mumbai and then taking a train to Cochin, but then realized it's a 40-hour train journey. Pass, thanks. The prerequisite adventure, of course, will be trucking it down to the Indian Consulate General to stand in line first thing in the morning and obtain an Indian Entry Visa. (Hereafter known as IEV). We have decided that I will go alone, so that I can take advantage of the females-only line, which is traditionally much shorter and more pleasant-smelling than the men's line.

I really do hope that we are granted entry visas, since proof of plane tickets is required in order to get them. It would be awfully snarky if they rejected your visa after you had gone to the trouble of buying tickets. Since I am not a Portuguese conquistador, I think my chances are good.

SFC

Mmmm... nothin' like Southern Fried Chicken, Lulu's Hypermarket, Qusais. Just got a "hunga busta" and a "lite bite" delivered, in rapid fashion, for very few dirhams, hot & tasty. After three months of the college cafeteria food & leftovers (superior by any standards), I was ready for some fried chicken.

Abu Dhabi Wabi Tabi Babi

Today I borrowed the college car, picked up three of my librarian buddies, and cruised down the road for 2 hours to Abu Dhabi for a librarians/supervisors meeting. The morning commuter traffic getting out of Dubai was harrowing; made me wish I had bumpers on all sides of my car instead of just the front and back. 

Abu Dhabi, as it turns out, is a remarkably beautiful city; I saw far fewer cranes, piles of dirt and orange traffic cones in Abu Dhabi than I see in Dubai. Also, the library at Abu Dhabi Men's College is GORGEOUS.  Soft halogen lighting; warm, vibrant colors; neat wall art and art objects. I was very impressed.

They fed us cappuccino and lunch, and at some point in the afternoon served us cake (mine appeared without my even asking while I was away in the ladies' room) and therefore I had to break my no-cake programme. I'm starting again right now though, so from now on, really, really and truly, honest to God, no more cake.

We made some important breakthroughs at the meeting, related to boring stuff like information literacy and reading promotion (boring to non-librarians, anyway). I'll leave the full description for Dan, because I know he'll humor me.

Turning over a new leaf

Thanks Nick. Alicia here, reporting from central Dubai.

I'm compelled to jump on the meme bandwagon after Midge bought the wagon and put a band on it. So here goes:

Five things found in your bag:

1. Nokia cellphone, cheapest one off the rack, connected via Etisalat

2. Prescription eyeglasses (Giorgio Armani).. I may be blind-o but I'm stylish-o

3. Hertz key and keychain

4. Frequent Sipper Club card from Gloria Jean's

5. Passport / Visa

Five favorite things in your room:

1. Mirror

2. Down comforter

3. Silky Pajamas

4. Digital camera

5. Stuffed pug

My room isn't exceptionally personalized. I haven't been in it long enough.

Five things you have always wanted to do:

1. Climb Mt Hood

2. Write a crappy novel for NaNoWriMo

3. Live and work abroad (hey!)

4. Go to Pompeii and see the ruins of massive volcanic destruction (I'm so jealous of you Krista.)

5. Build a library in Guatemala and make it vastly successful

Five things you are currently in to:

1. The Onion's top 25 albums of 2007 (Thanks Emily!) 

2. Researching India & Sri Lanka

3. Get Fit Programme (note: no more cake, starting Tomorrow).

4. Brandon's Arkansas & Franzen's The Corrections 

5. Fashion: specifically, Abaya design

OK, Now that Dan's had a chance to speak...

Let's elaborate a little more on the Russian Nightclub.  Between each act, there were some lounge singers who performed a few numbers in conjunction with a scrawny pony-tailed fellow on the synth, allowing our dancers time to change into their next outfit, and allowing the clientele to take over the dance floor and bust a move.

Act I: Dancers in traditional garb and big hats perform a traditional Russian routine while we're starting on our wine and half-bottle of Wodka.

Act II: Dancers in Vegas-showgirl style sparkling one-piece outfits with large furry hats and boots perform a Vegas-showgirl style number complete with lots of high-kicking and shoulder-shaking. This is "salad phase" - retrieving lots of interesting first course items from the buffet, including chilled potatoes stuffed with herring and some of the most ginormous shrimp I've ever seen. Also, a "beef salad" which I quizzed the chef on. It looked like a rhubarb pie; bright red in the center, crumbs on top. "You cut it like a pie," the guy next to me said. "It's really beef?" I asked the chef. "Yes, beef." She said. "Is it raw?" I asked. "Not all," she said. I was too scared to try any. Later on Maureen informed me it was actually beet salad.

Act III: Male and Female dancers in black and yellow taxi-cab getups perform a Broadway-like number.

Act IV: Male and Female dancers perform another Broadway-like number in ridiculous red-white-and-blue outfits with lots of clown-like acrobatics, dance moves that involve the revealing of granny panties, tumbles and splits with cartoon noise accompaniment. 

Act V: The Arabian Belly Dance! Which was less Belly Dance and more... hmm... Vegas Showgirl Dance. Male dancers as well. Fun to watch.

I'm sure I missed a few... but that was something else. I'll definitely go back, especially for the dancing. This time I was pretty much stuck glued to my chair, hand clenched like stone between my legs, large scarf pulled tight around both arms, shivering to death as the result of a high fever which had come on that afternoon. Although I had taken Ibuprofen to ward off the signs of illness, I forgot to take more Ibuprofen with me to the nightclub, and I experienced a marked increase in fever, chills and bone ache at approximately midnight. I still thoroughly enjoyed the show, but will definitely do more dancing next time.

I lumbered out of the club at 2am like Frankenstein - glazed eyes, pale, pallid skin, stiff as a board, brain half-functional, went home and slept for a day and a half. It is now Saturday morning and I'm feeling marginally better, but still not in the mood to dance. I'm just glad it didn't get worse... I'm also not in the mood to try out the hospital here just yet.

Troyka? Yes, Troyka.

"My fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you I just signed legislation which outlaws Russia forever.  The bombing will begin in five minutes." - Ronald Reagan (during a microphone test)

Pictured Right:  Ahmadinejad teaching Putin to dance.

Just waking up for the second time today.  We went to the Russian nightclub known as Troyka with an older couple from the college last night.  They were called Maureen and Ron, or maybe Tom.  Tom was cool.  Maureen had a little too much (mostly good) advice for my taste, or maybe it was just the delivery: A little too aggressive, a little too sure that any course of action than other than hers will lead to heartache.  They've been here for 10 years, which is longer than anyone I've had any serious conversation with.   Both are teachers.  Tom (or Ron) at least likes to drink.  

We arrived at the club, after misjudging the taxi ride, at around 9:30.  This was far too early.  We were the only ones there and things were still getting set up.  TomRon and I split a half bottle of vodka (the waitress wasn't sure what I meant, finally realizing, "Oh! Wodka!") that was way too expensive, but oiled the conversational gears nicely.  Alicia and Maurine each had a glass of white wine.  Maurine insisted on having hers on the rocks.   Good bullshit sessions on politics and the media ensued, but not many other topics held our attention, besides the occasional aggressively given good advice.  The place had a middle of the road buffet, a middle of the road band, and a clientele that was primarily beautiful Russian women on the arms of less attractive, sometimes shockingly less attractive, men.  I refuse to speculate about which of the women were professional.  Maybe there's just someone for everyone.  (insert joke about Alicia liking me [here]) There was group of dancers (4 beautiful Russian women and two handsome Russian men) that came out periodically.  They were good dancers.  Maureen insisted that later performances would be featuring nudity.  We left at 1:45am and never saw anything more risque than you might see on Dancing With the Stars.  In honor of theratingsytem, I give the evening 3 out of 6 Troikas.  

I've worked for 4 days now at Dubai Women's College (A magical place,  Emirati women are the sweetest women in the world, quick with open smiles, anxious to talk, floating around slowly in beautiful abayas) and now it looks like the American University of Dubai still wants to interview me, in spite of the fact that I told them I'd be taking 2 months off starting June 20.  Maureen insists that I'd be taking way less than I'm worth and I should network more and make more money.  Honestly, I'm just exited that someone may want to hire me so soon after my arrival in this strange, lovely country. 

Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful...

But the fire is so delightful? It is 7:58 am here and 90 degrees fahrenheit. The wacky morning DJ on the radio claims today's high is 43, which equates to something like 109.4 fahrenheit.

But, it's a beautiful day with sunny clear blue skies and humidity hovering around a mere 30%. This is the kind of day which is good for laying on the roof working on a tan, or skin cancer. It occurs to me that I'm still buying a piping hot, fresh cuppa cafe au lait every morning. Tomorrow I think I'll switch to iced coffee.

Let's redefine the term "beer run"

Mr. Man has been quite active on the blog I see, which is nice since it keeps the folks back home entertained while I'm working 156 hours a week.

This weekend I was sent off to invigilate a high school exam in sunny beachside paradise Umm al Quwain, so I brought Mr. Man along and he spent Saturday morning working on his tan on the hotel's private beach and splashing around in the Persian Gulf while I spent my morning keeping an eagle eye trained on a group of 13 abaya-clad high school girls sitting for a college entrance exam in a cold, stark, silent public school classroom. "Show me your ears," I commanded. "No mobiles. No earpieces. No bags. No talking. No looking up." You ladies want to get to college? College is where I come from, sweethearts. If you can't take the heat, then get off the stove.

You know what staring hard at 13 test-takers for 2.5 hours makes you? Hungry. Which is why it's lucky they hooked us up with three buffet meals while we were there. Before the exam, a group of us faculty invigilators partook in a delicious breakfast, and afterward we all sauntered back to top ourselves off with grilled fish, fried shrimp, rice, pasta, myriad salads, breads, hummus, soup, and a couple different kinds of chocolate cake and melons. And the best part was the pre-lunch cocktail, taken in-room, courtesy Dan and my incredible sense of direction and perseverance.

It was actually Friday night that we went out hunting for Barracuda - the only liquor store anywhere even remotely close to Dubai which doesn't require a license to buy. It took about an hour of getting lost to find it, but we didn't give up. It's a Sheikh-owned liquor store, hidden way out of town at a seedy beachside resort hotel in an inconspicuous looking building way in the back with no sign.Dan found it by following the stream of people walking to and fro with blue bags. 12 bottles and 435 dirhams later (a screaming deal) we headed back to town, victorious. Now, we're stocked for at LEAST three, four days, depending. This place is a solid 60 minute drive from Dubai if there's no traffic at all, and people regularly organize carpools out there just for the liquor. You're looking at a 3-4 hour project all told, yet it's a popular weekend activity- and I suspect price also has something to do with it. I was surprised to find that a liter of Beefeater at Barracuda runs a person approximately $11, compared to somewhere in the neighborhood of $25 in Portland. Cha-ching! Gin & tonics on the porch every night for a week, people.

Another Cakewalk Interview and The Efficiency of the Free Market

"Corruption is government intrusion into market efficiencies in the form of regulation." - Milton Friedman

From now on when I think of the myriad benefits of The Free Market (Really, I'm probably more of a socialist) my mind will settle on one example: Catching a taxi in this town.  In my travels, which are by no means extensive but perhaps sufficient for a base level discussion, I have hailed all manner of taxis in all manner of urban centers.  I'd say that most major cities fall into two categories:  (A) The "Just Hail a Cab on the Street" city, or (B) The "Phone One and They'll Come Get You" City.  Dubai has both options available, but with the state owned monopoly that is Dubai Taxi both methods occasionally make you wish to end your life by stepping into traffic.  

This morning I made a trip to the al Baraha Hospital (pictured left) for a few medical tests required for my visa.  It's about 10 minutes away by car, so I went down to the main road to catch a taxi about 45 minutes early.  I attempted both methods simultaneously for maximum effect, waiving at taxis with one hand (all of them busy) and calling the Dubai Taxi Service Line (phone number also busy) with the other.  After 40 minutes I got through to Dubai Taxi.  They told me that it was pretty busy right now in my area and they would call me when a taxi in my area was available (It's 6 hours later now so I guess I won't be getting that call)  After walking a around for awhile (104 degrees today) I managed to grab a taxi after it dropped an injured man off at a local hospital.  I arrived at al Baraha hospital, spent 10 minutes there getting my tests, only to repeat the exact same ordeal when I left.  Should have asked my cab to wait.  It would have been well worth it.

My point?  The government run company Dubai Taxi is not meeting the demands placed upon it.  A "free taxi market" would put enough taxis out there.  The taxi company with the busy signal for 40 minutes on its customer service line would quickly go out of business.  Perhaps this Free Taxi Market would employ more people, feed more families, get people around faster, increase the overall livability of the city?  Of course it might also screw over the working man, fail to pay him a living wage... Maybe the machine of capitalism really is oiled by the blood of the workers.  Maybe I'm being a selfish, spoiled capitalist pig, grown fat on toil of the exploited lower classes, but I'm still inclined to think we can find a happy medium. 

My "interview" today for the temp position at HCT:  Alicia's two bosses basically just wanted to tell me how Alicia has brought a cool, refreshing rain onto their dry, wasted world allowing the library's potential to finally blossom and if she were to leave the college they would retreat beneath a shroud of depression never to return.  And they hoped anything they could do for me to keep her home life happy would encourage her to stick around.  So yes, I can have the job.    

Interviews, Affirmative Action, and The Ramones

Today I rolled out of bed at the crack of 11:00am, put on a nice white shirt and a new tie, and took a 60dhs taxi ride to the other side of town for an interview with American University in Dubai.  The job I'm applying for is Financial Affairs Officer, which is basically just a guy who keeps track of the students' money and makes sure they pay for classes and dorms and things like that.  

I got there about an hour early because I wasn't sure how long the cab ride would take.  I told the cab driver to take me to a cafe since I was so early.  He assured me that the university could accommodate my cafe needs within its gates.  "OK" I thought.  "I have no reason to doubt that that's true."   However, when I approached the security booth and explained my business, the guard was convinced that I was crazy.  Why was I so early?  He would have to call the HR Coordinator with whom my meeting was scheduled.  My appointment was at what time?  I suggested that I go wait somewhere else.  He clearly thought that was the best idea I'd had today.   I went to The Hard Rock Cafe next door and drank a Cap'n and Coke, a water and a Red Bull while watching music videos (including The Ramones classic video for "I Wanna Be Sedated" which I had never seen before and which has a simple beauty that captivated me).  Turned out to be a fantastic way to kill the time.    

Both the HR Coordinator and then later the CFO mainly wanted to ask me why I would be interested in such a low level position which made me feel fairly confident about my prospects.  I'd say the interviews went well because they said they would be in touch to schedule an interview with the VP of the University.  Only problem is that it's across town and I don't have a driver's license because my Visa is not complete yet so I'll be taking a cab for the time being.   They're not big on public transport here.  But you gotta spend money to make money right?  Am I right?  You know I'm right.  

One of the interesting things they told me in the interview is that they are looking for the staff that interact with the students to reflect the "multicultural ambiance" of the university, and I happen to fit into a needed "profile".  Nice.  Nothing like getting a job by virtue of being a white American.    Should I remove my name from consideration in protest of this discrimination?  Nah, I don't think I will.  It's interesting though that UAE employers have the right to say, "I want a nice mix of nationalities on my staff and right now we don't have enough Americans.  Now go find me some."  The world is truly a rich tapestry isn't it?  

How many Oscars has Alfred Hitchcock won?

The correct answer is: 0. That and many other feats of trivia were on display this evening at Aussie Legends in the Rydges Plaza Hotel where Dan and I met up with Robin, Margo and Shaz for quiz night.  The five of us collectively went by 'Smard'.  Coming in at a respectable 5th place as a team, we didn't win any free stuff (Shaz won a free drink in a one-off mid-round), but we did have a great time and learn a lot of useless facts that we for sure won't remember tomorrow.

Dan really cleaned house on the movie-quotes portion of the quiz, and we contributed a couple of other valuable tidbits (like identifying American pop-alternative song and artist for 1 point on the arts & entertainment round) but couldn't pull through to beat the other teams. There's always next time.

I had to stay clean & sober to drive us home, which I did without successfully killing anybody or getting killed (I tried a few times) and, despite being stone cold sober, still managed to have fun! I'll tell the kids it can be done. I'm pretty sure the penalty for DUI is 40 years hard labor, and/or death, and/or dismemberment. And/or deportation to Australia. Didn't want to risk anything.

I am swearing for the third time this week, and this time I really, really mean it, that after I wake up tomorrow, I am NOT having ANY more CAKE. I am DONE with the cake. Not one more piece of cake. Seriously. 

Driving!

Friday afternoon we killed most of our day in a spanish tapas bar.

Yesterday we rented a Honda City and did some driving. Made a couple of wrong turns, got stuck in some traffic, successfully navigated a crowded parking lot, successfully found our way home. No deaths, no dismemberments along the way.

Last night spent some time sitting on the patio, consuming an adult beverage and watching the city lights, listening to the traffic and enjoying the night breeze. Quite relaxing. That was right after I crushed Dan twice in a row at abalone (a game he has still never won) and executed a handy hold 'em victory to boot. Some people wager something sensible on heads up hold 'em; a massage, a home-cooked meal, a car wash. Today, Dan will be researching current local issues in the UAE and creating topic guides to distribute to our students. I am a vicious one.

I've Arrived: Dan's First Post

It's now 4:48 am and I guess I didn't do the jet lag solution (drink and sleep as much as possible during travel) perfectly cause I'm wide awake and have been for a couple of hours now.  We'll see how I do today.  We're going to brunch and shopping or some such thing.  I got in around 7:30 and left the airport around 9:00 so basically Alicia just picked me up and we went back to our fabulous adobe to shower and drink cocktails (liquor courtesy of the duty free shop as Alicia still has not received a liquor license: my first contribution to our Life in Dubai).   My first impressions are all good.  The apartment is truly sweet.  Alicia's photo's do not adequately express how large it is.  We're going to have to do some serious work filling it with furniture.  Right now there are two rooms with just about nothing in them.  But as a wise man once said, "First get a job, THEN buy stuff."  

That being said, I guess there's some kind of low level temp job that Alicia was good enough to line up for me at the college.  I'm going to go interview on Monday, but I guess the job is more or less mine.  I'm pretty geeked up about it.  I hate being unemployed for any length of time at all.   (To my unemployed friends: not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not for me.)  So hopefully I can get on the right sleep schedule and hit the ground running.  I gotta get pumped up for this.   

All right team, let's do this.  Desire on three.  One, two, three, DESIRE!

Wait that sounds stupid.  

Win on three?  No.  

Sleep on three?  Eh.

Get a job on three?  Ok.  One, two, three, GET A JOB! 

Still stupid, but it'll have to do for now.  

Alright, that's it.

It's time to act like a girl in her 20s and hit the club. I think I'll start at The Lodge, as soon as I can scrape together some girlfriends who want to to shake it, shake it. I guess I might have to wait until next weekend since the man is flying in this weekend, unless the man wants to shake it, shake it with us.  

Today Priya tried her very first chocolate fondue, courtesy "Swiss Week" in the cafeteria. A group of students just got back from Switzerland and brought a little Swiss culture with them. From what I can tell, the Swiss live on chocolate-covered strawberries which they eat while perched on the tops of alpine peaks in shiny red toboggans. 

I tried some of Priya's cooking today, which she brought me in a re-sealable plastic container from home.  It was a delicious chicken curry. She told me it was mild, and I agreed that it was mild. But after I'd sampled the fare, she stopped by my desk and asked, "Did you vahm-it?" And, somewhat shocked, I immediately replied, "No! Of course I didn't vomit." And she said, "nooooooo, did you VAHM it?"  Aha yes, I did in fact warm it. 

Everybody Do the Driver's License Dance

So, guess who got a driver's license? Me. It wasn't all that hard, but I had to wander around to a variety of service desks staffed by more-than-unenthusiastic traffic department employees for an hour and a half this morning. The good part is that I got to do it on work time, not my own time.

There was recently a change in the procedure for getting a driver's license in this town. The public awareness campaign went something like this: Do Nothing, and Wait Until People Show Up At Your Counter to Tell Them. You see, for a very long time, the good people of Dubai could obtain a driver's license without getting the express written consent of their employer. Now, they have to come with that particular document in hand. As if some kind of grand, twisted social experiment were in play, this new requirement is conspicuously absent from all official documents, websites, and application forms pertaining to license acquisition. Maybe they're just trying to save paper, and will start printing the requirement when they run out of old forms.

Anyway, I obviously came unprepared, but was able to finagle a workaround by having the consent letter e-mailed to Mr. Hassan Abam (Thank you Hassan!), who printed it out for me from his office printer on site.  I should note that there seems to be a generally strange distribution of what is required and what is not required to obtain a driver's license in Dubai. Although I was required to provide a letter of consent from my employer, a valid copy of my visa and passport, an eyesight test, three photographs and a hundred and ten dirhams, I was remarkably not required to provide any kind of proof that I know how to drive. A simple copy of a piece of plastic with my name on it that I cross-my-heart is a valid license in the USA seemed to do the trick. 

Now I just have to decide whether I'll consent to Dan getting a license. Hrmmm......

Hello in Malayalam

Priya's been asking me to teach her Spanish, so today I taught her how to say 'hola' and 'como estas' in exchange for some Malayalam. Priya is from Kerala, in Southern India, and she speaks Malayalam, and just getting the pronunciation of the name of the language right took me awhile. They have two L sounds (that I know of so far) in Malayalam. And you'll notice, there are two Ls in the word "Malayalam". It's actually a palindrome. Priya pointed that out to me by saying "it's one of those English things" while waving her finger back and forth through the air in a symmetrical pattern.  "Like racecar?" I asked her. "Exactly." She said. "I know what you mean," I said.

I wanted to know how to say "how are you" in Malayalam.  It's actually, "are you well?", and it's "Sukharam?"  And hello is "namastaram." I'm in search of a Malayalam word that doesn't end in 'am'.  Priya says that nobody ever uses namastaram, instead they all say "hi", a holdover from British colonialism. I told her the Chinese say "have you had your lunch?" instead of "how are you?". She asked how to say "have you had your lunch?" in Spanish. I told her, "ya comiste?" Then Mariam told us how to say "arabic" in arabic, and truthfully if you don't speak arabic you can't pronounce it. So I pronounced it the English way, which also happens to be the Spanish way. After that our heads exploded.

So far Arabic kind of reminds me of German, probably for all the gutteral sounds. And Malayalam reminds me of Pig Latin. The Greeks used to make fun of the way Barbarians talked by mocking them, saying "Bar, bar, bar, bar, bar," ha, ha, ha very funny (that's why they came to be known as Barbarians.) Today, I like to make fun of the way the Dutch sound by mocking them, saying "opedy dopedy mopedy wopedy opedy". And you could easily make fun of Malayalam by saying "I'm-am going-am to-am the-am store-am today-am." But I hope we'll keep this exchange up; I can't wait to ask about Malayalam verb structure. 

The World's Worst Library Patron

This faculty member, a screechy, whiny old woman with absolutely no sense of perspective, comes barging into the library (if one can "barge" into a library) demanding to know where her books are. "Where are my books I ordered?" She demands. "It's been months!"

I've explained to this woman before that we live in the UAE. Books take a long time to arrive. The ordering process is slow. She'll get an e-mail when they get here. We don't order books for faculty anyway, we take recommendations from faculty on what to order for the students. They're not her books. "Well I'll never order from the library again!" She threatens.. "I'm fed up!" Good, I'm thinking. Please, please keep that promise.

We keep a copy of a particular magazine, let's call it "Boating with Felines", in hard copy. We also have this magazine available in about 12 different databases, in full-text, all the way up to the most current issue. This woman absolutely demands that we also pay to subscribe to the magazine's website, because she can't be bothered to come into the library to read the hard copy, and doesn't like the databases because they don't have colors and graphics.

Now, coming from any other half-way likable idiot, I could entertain these complaints with a much wider degree of tolerance. But coming from her, they're unbearable. Not only are her demands ridiculous and self-centered, not only are her responses petulant and childish, but she is just so RUDE. I've never met an adult human being more blatantly rude than she is. As I'm patiently explaining how things work and trying to be courteous, helpful, sympathetic and understanding (an incredible feat on my part), she's blowing me off, waving her hand in my face, turning her back to me and walking away, as if I'm some kind of library serf-servant who has displeased her.

I'm sorry, the next time this woman comes to talk to me we're all going to be very lucky if I don't shred her to pieces for being all the evil, unbecoming things she is. "He-llo!" I want to say while smacking her across the face, "we're here to teach an incredible group of young women to be the leaders of the next generation, not be f*cking b*tchy to the librarians!!"

An Indian Learns to Enjoy American Junk Food

My friend Priya told me that she got hooked on cheesecake the first time an American in Dubai forced her to try a piece. Now I've forced her to try a caramel latte, and she's hooked on that too. "I feel so wicked", she says to me, looking incredibly guilty, every time I catch her sipping one. "Don't worry" I say. "Caramel lattes have caffeine. The metabolic boost will offset the extra calories." But I don't think she believes me.

I'm just happy she doesn't think cheesecake and caramel lattes are "too bland". Frankly, I'm shocked she didn't try to grind up a hot chili pepper into her coffee.

Emiratis Vote Barack

Lately I've been asked by a lot of people around campus if I'm for Clinton or the other one. "You mean Barack Obama?" I ask them. "Yes" they reply; "the other one." "How do you know I'm not voting for McCain?" I say. "Who?" They ask. "Nevermind," I say. I usually put on my thinking face for a moment before replying, "well, I'm not sure yet. I haven't decided," at which point the person I'm talking to freely endorses "the other one." For example, a male paramedic student I was talking to today, explained to me how he likes Barack Obama because he is handsome, much like Putin. Do I know Putin? He's from Russia. Yes yes, I know Putin. I'm not necessarily sure I'd agree that either one of those mugs could be considered handsome, per se, but I suppose as politicians go they're above average. We have Obama Girl, after all. I didn't get a chance to quiz this student further on his political views, because his friends dragged him away in a fit of laughter. I'm sure that to them, it's absolutely hilarious to carry on a conversation about politics with your female teacher. To me, it's absolutely hilarious that you would openly express a political preference based on handsomeness. I mean, at least Americans bury it in some kind of passable nonsense; "oh, I like Obama because he's SO well-SPOKEN." But the more I think about it, the more I think Putin is a great, great leader....

I don't care what Steve Jobs says, I know the iPod is artificially intelligent

This afternoon was one of the most successful I've had so far in terms of navigating two notoriously difficult things to navigate in Dubai: a) taxis, and b) institutional bureaucracy. In the height of afternoon rush hour, I took my fly self out on to the street and hailed a taxi in less than 2 minutes. "Take me to Lulu's!" I exclaimed to the taxi driver triumphantly. My mission was to get passport photos and an eye test at Lulu's hypermarket, both items which are required for a driver's license. On arriving at Lulu's, I was able to get my photos taken with no wait, buy toilet paper while they developed, pick them up and proceed to my eye exam with no wait, and get a 'fit for driving - no glasses required' certification from the optical center. Was it all luck and good timing, or am I just incredibly charming? I know which one I'll choose to believe. And here's my ultimate point: I arrived home, set the iPod to shuffle, and, as if I'd picked it myself, the first song that came on was "Miss New Booty" by Bubba Sparxx. Miss New Booty indeed, sir. Miss New Booty indeed.

Friday

This morning I went down to More cafe for breakfast, got myself a spanish omelette and about five lattes (It's not the latte I'm after, it's the little cinnamon-butter cookie they serve it with), and then met up with some friends who had come down for brunch and spent the morning nibbling on their crepes and stealing their latte-cookies.

After that I had to go to the airport and drop off Dan's entry permit, which was fun. I hadn't been to the airport since I arrived, and seeing it in the daylight made it look altogether different. I was one of two people in the lounge this afternoon booking in a visa, and for some reason, it took the five uniformed visa-booking staff wandering back and forth behind the service counter about a half hour to call a number. I started to wonder if some kind of visa-booking crisis had occurred. Uh-oh, ladies, we just got a call that the Qatari Sheikh is getting off the plane, and we don't have his visa ready. All five of us better wander back and forth between the desk and the back office looking lost and occasionally punching buttons on our single, shared walkie-talkie. And when they finally did decide to call a number? They called my number, not the guy who was there before me. Too bad for him.

The good news is that, 150 dirhams later, Dan's visa is now waiting for him at the airport. Hurrah. I couldn't help but notice that, remarkably, it cost me 10 dirhams in taxi fare to get to the airport and 40 dirhams to get back. I'm going to need to shop for a car soon.

More Quips and Quotes

At the circulation desk.
3 Students: Miss, may we say something?
Me: Certainly.
3 students: We think you have a pretty face.
___________________________

In the library.
Student, to staff member, referring to me: Miss, where'd that Japanese teacher go?
___________________________

In class.
Me: Alright class, we've talked about what kinds of resources are available to you, how you can use those resources, and how you can find those resources. Are there any questions?
Student: Yes, Miss. What is your nationality?
___________________________

Passing a group of students on the way out the door.
Me: Good morning ladies.
Students: Good morning, Miss Philippina!!
___________________________

In the coffee shop.
Students: Miss, where are you from?
Me: Where do you think I'm from?
Student 1: We're not sure. We think you might be from Russia. Or Iraqi.
Student 2: No! She is from America. Right?
Me: Correct.
Student 2 (proudly): I can tell the difference in the English accents so I know who is from America and who is from Australia.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

(Student, shouting from across the courtyard): Miss Aliiiicia!
Me: Miss Afra!
Student: Did you have a good weekend?
Me: Why yes, I was here working for most of it. Quite splendid indeed.
Student: Why were you working so much?
Me: I love my job. What did you do this weekend?
Student: I went to Wild Wadi! [note to reader: Wild Wadi is a water park.]
Me: Sounds like fun.
Student: I wore a bikini!
Me: Ooh la la! Aren't you a brave one.
Student: It was mixed.
Me: Even more fun. Did you go with your friends?
Student: No, my friends can't go when it's mixed because their families don't like it.
Me: But your family allows you to go?
Student: Yes. My family is open-minded.
Me: So you had fun by yourself in your bikini with the boys?
Student: Yes.

Ah, youth.

I thought it was foggy this morning

But it wasn't, it was actually a sandstorm. I noticed the difference as soon as I went outside. I wonder how much sand a human being can inhale before the lungs collapse?

India Palace

My new favorite restaurant is India Palace. Totally affordable, totally delicious, and totally fun. I went with my friend Priya, which was fun because she gave me an introductory lesson on the different types of Indian food and what you get in different regions of India. For example, in Kerala where she's from, you get good spicy food with lots of coconut. Everywhere else, you get bland food.


Now, according to the Indian food guide pyramid (right), a healthy Indian meal consists of a well-balanced portfolio of dishes based mainly on rice & bread. I can see where my chicken biryani, naan with dahl, veggie ghobi and tandoori chicken fit in, but I don't quite see where the mango lassi and the saffron/milk/sugar/dumpling/dessert thing fit in. Despite this, my rough analysis of the meaning of "serving" leads me to believe that, all-in-all, I probably had a fairly balanced day's worth of Indian food in one meal. Very efficient.

In the car on the way there, I had a nice conversation with Priya's 2 sons. The older son, about 8, was quite serious in introducing himself and explaining where he attends school, which I appreciated. I hate riding in the back seat with someone without knowing where they go to school. The younger one explained to me how excited he is generally about life, by saying "goo ga gee ga be be ga goo ma ge gaa," while gesturing authoritatively at the world outside the car. I was delighted to find that we had something in common, as I too, am quite enchanted by the world outside the car.

Unpacked! And it's the weekend again.

I've unpacked all my boxes and discovered three things:

A) Nothing is broken
B) Nothing (so far as I can tell) is missing
C) Dubai customs authorities passed all my questionable material, including 2 bibles, a sampler of Christmas cognac, a bottle of wine, a box full of foodstuffs including seeds, chilis and spices, and a Shakira CD

I could not POSSIBLY have asked for an international move to go more smoothly. I'm recalling all the times in life when I've said to myself, "Why can't anything just go right for a change?" And now Universe, I'm taking proper notice, that things have gone extremely right. Thank you!

In other news about things that are going extremely right, I just found out I'm getting a 15% raise as of August 1. (Salary readjustment.) Then, on August 2, I'll be getting another 4% raise. (Cost of living.) Net result? I can finally get that Chia Pet I've always wanted.

And, in addition to all these excellent turns of events, I'm also being sent to Umm al Quwain (neighboring city) on May 9 for an overnight stay in order to facilitate an entrance exam for the good boys and girls of Umm al Quwain high school. The company is putting me up at Umm al Quwain Beach Hotel with dinner and breakfast. That'll be nice.

In the meantime, it's the weekend again, and tomorrow I'm going to India Palace for lunch with my friend Priya. Priya, who is from Southern India, claims that all food in the world is bland except for food from South India. According to her, India Palace is pretty good. (It's not ideally spicy for her, but she likes it.) So we'll see how I like it. Her husband is going to come pick me up with her and drive us there and drop us off. Her husband, Don, amuses me quite a bit, because he comes to pick her up at work quite often, and on nights when she's closing, he'll wander around and tidy up the library and process the newspapers and shut down the computers, et cetera. She says she's got him trained. I think it's pretty cute.

My Ship is In

After a mere 8 weeks of improvising in the kitchen with 1 pot, 1 bowl and 1 package of plastic sporks, my boat from America has arrived bearing all of my worldly goods and supplies. Out with the plastic, in with the real-live genuine cutlery. Of course, until next weekend, my goods and supplies will remain packed in boxes. But - the finish line is within sight. I lost several sporks just last week due to breakage while trying to stir a container of organic peanut butter (you know, the kind that separates), and as of yesterday was down to just one. I was starting to get worried I'd have to buy a whole new package.

The delivery of my goods was quite smooth - as promised, they cleared customs, delivered to my residence, unwrapped, and hauled away excess packing material. The best part was that they didn't hold my stuff hostage and screw me with hidden port fees and handling charges and all that nonsense. Total cost on delivery? $0. Dream come true. If anybody needs to move overseas, use Meyer's Van Lines to arrange it. So far in life, this holds true: I've never been wronged by a Meyer. The handling company on this side was ISS Worldwide. Also, although the packages were clearly opened and inspected, UAE customs did not confiscate my bible, nor did they confiscate a comprehensive instructional manual on effective gambling. I have yet to see whether my kitchen spices got through.

Ain't Got No Skype

Yet another weekend

I'm starting to realize that it just continues on this way, forever, until death or retirement: wake up and go to work for 5 days, then the weekend. Wake up and go to work for 5 days, then the weekend. Wake up and go to work for 5 days...

This weekend, I started strong and ended weak. Thursday night I came home after work to meet the cockroach-killing crew who thoroughly doused the apartment in toxic goo. I once again feel safe eating food here. Frankly, I'd rather have cancer than cockroaches.

Then, Thursday night, I made a valiant effort to catch a taxi to town to meet up with one of several groups of friends doing one of several fun exciting things. One group was at Cactus Jack's getting free margaritas and champagne (Thursday is ladies night) and the other group was having an at-home dinner & drinks gathering at somebody's house. Unfortunately, after 30 minutes standing on the highway in a dust squall, I gave up on that idea. Two people did pull over in passenger cars to offer me "private taxi" portage, but I didn't really feel like Thursday was the day to be raped and murdered. Maybe next weekend.

So, I trucked it down to the gas station to pick up some good gossip magazines and caramel milk snack (I'm not exactly what this product is, as the entire label is printed in arabic, but I am aware that the ingredients contain dairy and caramel products, and it is DELICIOUS), and went home for a nice relaxing evening and finished my book, "The Plot Against America" by Philip Roth.

Then on Friday, I woke up early and caught a taxi (easy! fast! What a difference 12 hours makes.) down to More cafe in Garhoud for a little brekkie. Read the newspaper, had a watermelon juice and a spanish omelette, and then caught a cab to Wafi city to do a little shopping and check out the new arabian-souk style shopping wing. But, before I even got started at Wafi, I got a call from my friend Maureen inviting me out to the spa. So, of course, I went to the spa - we got pedicures and manicures and a 1-hour foot massage at this place called Mary Foot Spa (if I'm remembering correctly.) It was suuuuper awesome. I'll definitely go back.

After that we went back to Maureen's place for a couple of gin & tonics and a grilled burger with her husband, which was thoroughly awesome, and then I had to jet to meet up with this other friend at a spanish tapas bar back at Wafi City called Seville's. Had some yummy fried mushrooms, cheesecake, flan, patatas bravas, toast and pina colada on a rooftop outdoor terrace/bar with live music. That was pretty sweet as well, although by the end of the night I was feeling pretty fat and sassy. I'm going to have to hit the gym all week to make up for it.

I only got about 5 hours of sleep because I had to wake up early Saturday to let the internet guys in to install my internet. Which they did, successfully, in about 10 minutes. By comparison, I can't understand why the hell it takes Comcast an hour, or sometimes two hours, to install internet and/or cable tv in Portland. I didn't even have to run any discs or install any software or do anything here - they just showed up, plugged in the equipment, changed a couple settings on my computer, and away they went, leaving me in the wakeful bliss of sudden connectivity. Nobody had to run down to their truck 3 times to get more cable, the guy didn't need to call dispatch and wait on hold for them to give him a network key or something, no - nothing. So easy. Comcast - call Etisalat corporate headquarters in the UAE and ask them to FedEX you a clue.

That aside - I didn't get much sleep and felt kind of icky and sick all day so I didn't really get out of bed until about 3:30pm. The afternoon consisted of catching up on e-mail, taking a hot bath and streaming Marketplace from npr.org . Turns out the sub-prime mortgage crisis hasn't gone away since the last time I listened to Marketplace. And tomorrow it's back to work - AND tomorrow I get my shipment of household goods delivered. I'm curious to see whether anything is broken, whether anything was confiscated by customs, (like, the bible) and whether any of the boxes contain cockroaches which will rush out and instantly be killed by the toxic goo.

A brief tour of the surrounds

For interested parties, the following three vids give a quick peek at the environs here.

Karachi Darbar Rave

1 order chicken curry
1 Chapatti naan
1 Tandoori naan
1 order raita
1 package salad vegetables
Total: AED 10 ($2.72 US)

You know you're moving up in the world when you have your own private gym

Today I visited my fitness centre. I mean... "the" fitness center. The fitness centre serves a population of 2000 girls in high heels, and 150 staff, 20 or 30 of whom are male and not allowed in the fitness centre. So, we've quickly whittled the population of potential fitness centre users down to about 120. Out of those 120, how many do you think are using the fitness centre at 1pm on a weekday afternoon? I'll tell you: exactly 0. Until I come along - then there's one.

It goes like this: I walk into my beautiful, shiny, spic-and-span fitness centre and past the bubbling fountain in the lobby to the security desk, where a security guard is guarding the premises for me. I sign in, and then proceed to my locker room, past the brightly-lit, empty squash courts, and the olympic sized swimming pool and the yoga room filled with brightly-coloured yoga balls. I get dressed in my cutest gym gear, and then head upstairs to my aerobics room to walk uphill on my treadmill and read my book and listen to my music in my CD player for about half-an-hour. Then I take a shower in my shower room, which includes a private dressing room, and then I reorganize my hair in my bathroom mirror, and head back to work after stopping to get a cafe au lait. It -almost- feels like I've arrived.

Oh yeah... Easter

I got an e-card from family reminding me it was Easter! I never would have known. It's funny how, when you live in a non-Christian nation, you don't get those little "heads up" clues in all the stores in the 8 weeks before every Christian holiday. Not here - no easter eggs, bunny baskets, pastel pink and blue ribbons, candies and chocolate wrappers; no nothing. I even had three people ask me "is there a holiday today?" on Easter, and I still didn't remember. I thought for sure they were just misusing the English term 'holiday' to comment on the season finale of Survivor or something. To compound the difficulties, it was recently Arabic Mother's Day, and so when I saw all the Mother's Day crap in the stores, I thought I had really blown it and not even called my mother. Turns out American Mother's Day is still like 2 months away. -whew-. Next Easter, I will be sure to share my Western heritage more fully with my non-western pals by recruiting them to help me dye easter eggs and stew a rabbit. (Is that part of the tradition?)

Does this guy look important?

Sheikh Nahyan, ruler of the great nation of the United Arab Emirates, today visited our college to give a variety of speeches and attend a variety of events, including a graduation. This is on the scale of, say, President Bush visiting your school in the US... except without the protests. I didn't realize he was here until I walked outside to get my lunch and ran into his entourage, which was composed of about 60 people including some scary looking body-guard types. Then, in the lunch line, my avenue was crammed with big tall dishdasha-clad boys! What a sight. I think the ladies were quite enthused about all the male presence on campus.

Anyway, I'm starting to wonder how they keep those dishdashas so white. Maybe they buy new ones every few weeks? What's the secret? If I could keep my whites that white, I'd be working for Tide.

My weekend

This weekend was a leisurely weekend, based primarily on shopping and lounging. It was a 3-day weekend, in celebration of the Prophet Mohammed's (Peace Be Upon Him) birthday. I convinced myself to do some sweeping but no mopping, and spent the rest of the time wandering the streets of Dubai looking for things to purchase. The highlight of the weekend was probably visiting the Souq Madinat Jumeirah (pictured) where I bought some loose-leaf tea and a brilliantly delicious sushi lunch w/ a friend from the college. Definitely the best sushi I've had so far. I spent most of the day Saturday lounging about in the Sahara Center Mall which is right across the street from the apartment. I picked up a few work clothes and sat in a Starbuck's sipping a latte, eating carrot cake and reading the paper for a couple of hours. I was extraordinarily lazy. Mmmmm.... laaazy.

Now it's back to work though - and work is busy busy busy. Our staff is supposed to have 3 librarians, 2 library technicians, and 4 library assistants, but we only have 1, 2 and 3 respectively, which is about to go down to 1, 1, and 2. It's going to be rough. There's so much little stuff to do everyday that I can hardly afford to spend any time thinking about the larger picture (like, developing library classes, etc), and I find myself constantly skipping breaks and lunch in order to actually accomplish anything. So... when the weekend comes again, I'll probably forgo the mopping again and kick back with a latte to save up energy for next week. But.. the best part is those sweet, sweet students!! See below for a perfect example. There's nothing more rewarding than connecting a student with the right resource. Totally geeky librarian, I know, but I can't help it.

FW: Library resources for water project

Dear miss Alicia Salaz;

Thank you very much for helping us in finding the accurate and good resources for our project. The recourses were really helpful. It was really clear that you are doing the best to help the students. =)

I wish the best luck for you.

Thank you again … =)

Shamah 

 

 

 

Did I mention driving is dangerous?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you exhibit A: two photographs of the Abu-Dhabi/Dubai highway accident which occured a couple fo days ago in foggy conditions. The accident injured almost 400 people and stretched for several kilometers from front to back. I think, remarkably, only 3 or 4 people were killed.

Yes, it was foggy; but the real cause of this accident was people paying absolutely no attention to the fog and rocketing down the freeway at 120kph without being able to see the wall of flaming cars 20 meters in front of them.

More people here are killed in traffic accidents every year than one can possibly believe. Call me paranoid, but if it's foggy outside, (which it is about, 2 days a year), I am not driving. Forget it. Too many nutjobs. Other than that, I think maintaining a reasonable speed, and driving in a late-model car with airbags and seat belt, should probably keep me alive. Fingers crossed!

Hair Salon

Yesterday was my first foray into "luxury Dubai", the other end of town which is comprised of multimillion dollar villas and the Burj-al-Arab and a suite of other topscale hotels, eateries, shopping centers, etc.

I went there for a haircut and color, because after having had the same wonderful hairdresser for 7 years, I am now lost in the hair wilderness, blindly stumbling around searching for a new one. I found this salon in a couple of directories so decided to try it out.

The hotel in which this particular salon was housed is a massive, lush complex of marble, stone and gold, with ambient lighting and attentive service staff unobtrusively catering to one's every need. Before the appointment, I had a latte and an orange juice on an outdoor veranda overlooking the gulf and was served a variety of delectable little cookies and pastries along with. It was only $7 for OJ and $6 per capuccino, so not too bad. I was initially worried about being accidentally ushered into a $100 brunch or something. As it turns out, had I snuck the gold-plated latte spoon into my purse, I could have walked away ahead.

Then: the hair appointment. I was cut and colored by a really good looking gay Syrian guy who had two assistants of his own. The assistants were bringing me tea, dropping my sugars in my tea, stirring my tea for me, bringing me magazines, and handing him tools and stirring the haircolor and applying and removing my towels and giving me a head massage. It was quite the experience. Net tab? $195. More than I'd like to have paid, but I'm willing to live with it - it carries me another 8 weeks, at least. (Cut & color at high-end Dubai salon: $195. Looking gorgeous when boyfriend arrives? Priceless.)

And... luckily... the hair turned out great! It's a little darker than it was before, so I think now I look more French, or Iraqi. (I keep getting comments that I look Iraqi.)

Two months from now, I may go back - and if I do I'll drag Dan along. This guy does men's hair too, and I think he might be able to apply a stylish mohawk to Dan's coiffer.

Diamond-studded Credit Card?

I just saw this in the local newspaper - a credit card that actually comes with an actual diamond embedded in it. It is called the "Royale Card" and is offered to members of the higher eschelons of local society as an invitation-only no preset limit credit card. There's a full-page ad in a magazine that actually says, "Imagine how your guests will be impressed when you pull it out to pay at dinner" or something to that end. I think this goes in the "only in Dubai" pile. I mean... think about it: they're actually ISSUING a DIAMOND to somebody.

Darts

Tennis is over, but Darts are in full-swing. This week was Sports Day, (Sports Day = a 3-day event) and I was assigned to supervise the Darts activity for a large number of giggly students clad in stiletto heels under their black abayas - most of whom (I would say, at least 100%) had never seen a dart in their lives.

It was certainly good fun, despite the fact that I was also asked (read: required) to come to work for three days in gym attire. By the end of the third day (Darts day) I was wishing I had an abaya to cover up the wrinkled standard-issue tee-shirt I'd been wearing for half the week. But... at least -I- had the good sense not to come to Sports Day in stilettos. "Ladies!" I gasped at them, exasperated. "You'll never hit the center of the board in those!!"

They don't care, of course - they're just there to have fun, and as long as they're not tagging passers-by, that's ok with me. I didn't even bother to explain the points system.

Not a great way to wake up

Murray beats Federer in Round 1 of the Dubai Tennis Championships?? What??? Is this really my life???

At least Nadal will be there. (Hopefully.) And maybe Djokovic. I think Federer is on a bender. After losing in the Oz open he obviously didn't work very hard or practice in the lead-up to DTC. Thanks a lot, Roger. You are now my SECOND favorite tennis player, and I don't care how boyishly good looking you are. I'm going to be at the aviation club all day Friday and Saturday (a total loss of a weekend, I could be mopping), with no chance of seeing a Nadal-Federer battle. Crap!

This one's for Dan

Momo

Last night attended Momo, somewhere on the other side of town, with a few friends from Sharjah Women's. Smoked some apple-flavored Sheesha and ate way too many appetizers. Also drank Moroccan tea out of the most ornate gold-and-silver-relief teapot ever. Listened to live DJ spin cool persian house music. Amusingly, the DJ eventually switched to American pop/house music, at which point the waiters and bartenders who were there became much more animated and started to bust some dance moves while they were walking around. It occurs to me that they probably have to listen to the same cool persian house music mix every single day of their lives... so perhaps the Justin Timberlake was really something refreshing for them? I bet it was somebody's personal mix CD. (As it got later, the place got emptier.) We were there until the lights went up and they kicked us out. My pal Sally from Oz was hit on by an Egyptian taxi driver on her way over, who said she could call him anytime for a taxi. She tested out his offer by calling him when we left - and, poor useless fellow, he was at home sleeping and unable to provide the promised ride. Now he'll never get anywhere with her... although dating a taxi driver would be ideal, since nobody thinks twice about a single woman alone with a man who is driving her taxi. People DO think twice about a single women alone with a man pretty much anywhere else in the world. All of our buildings have security teams who keep a watchful
eye on everything... I was surprised to learn that some of my galpals actually have to sneak in their male guests (she'll go in, he'll wait outside for five minutes and then follow.) Not that they would be stopped, just that it might create a hassle. Soon all the neighbors would be talking about the floozy western woman in their building, maybe even calling the police to complain. Just a hassle. Speaking of police, I imagine they spend a lot of time attending to traffic accidents and
complaints about western floozies, since there's not much actual crime.

Also, the Italian tennis player who beat Justine Henin has been eliminated from the tourney. Sigh.

The Apartment, etc

Today I mopped about 25% of the apartment, then gave up and decided maybe I'll start again tomorrow and work on it in geographic increments. Today is Friday, the first day of the weekend, so in the spirit of productivity (after being unable to continue mopping), I also went to Lulu's Hyper Market and bought the only hairdryer for sale in the entire shopping complex. Lulu's is my "corner store", but it isn't much of a corner store. For one, it isn't on the corner - it's actually about a kilometer away. This necessitates purchasing only what I can carry for a kilometer... although I'm pleased to say that "what I can carry for a kilometer" is steadily increasing. Second, it isn't much of a "store". It's more like a massive, two-story mall with a grocery store and a variety of helpful vendors (pharmacy, photo-development stand, western union branch, electronics store, beauty store, home/baby/linens store, exotic perfumes stand, candy corn stand, cellphone store, emirates islamic
bank branch, rug store, food court.) So, are you surprised they only had one hairdryer? I was. The pharmacy man had to dig it off of the top shelf, where it was wedged under a curling iron. This hairdryer is imported from Italy, and it's pretty hot stuff. Four heats, two speeds. Very exciting.

In other news, last night I scored a free ticket to the Dubai Tennis Championships women's quarterfinals with some friends, where I saw Justine Henin lose out in two sets. This was extremely fun for me, even though I don't follow women's tennis, because I instantly hated Justine the moment I saw her. Plus, the opponent was Italian, so I instantly liked her. I became vested in the outcome very quickly. I already had tickets to the Men's semifinals and finals next weekend, and I've been
too busy to check yet how the men are doing. If I can see a Federer-Nadal match, I can die and go to heaven.

This never happens

Last night, I went out with 8 or 9 of my new closest friends for happy hour at a very high-end bar/restaurant in Dubai. It ran about 5 hours longer than planned, and I'm not quite sure how this happened, but a couple of Emirati business moguls ended up treating our whole group to high-end scotch and Chandon all night. Since I'm new in town, I had no idea who they were, but apparently the other women with me recognized their names from a variety of buildings and plazas around the city. (Imagine: Dan Meyer Plaza. Dan Meyer Square. Dan Meyer Trade Center. You get the idea.) Which would explain their ability to pay the tab which must have been in the thousands. I tried to order water at one point and the waitress was like, "Yes I will bring you water but Mr. so-and-so has requested that we serve you champagne as well." Oh-kay, bring it on, I suppose. I actually left a half a glass of the most expensive champagne I've ever tasted sitting on the bar when we left. At the end of the night, my partners in crime were telling me, "This never, ever, ever happens." And I'm glad, because I might have gotten the mistaken impression that this was somehow normal. (Ha.) Discretion requires that we all remain nameless; those guys shouldn't have been drinking in public while dressed in full garb, and word certainly shouldn't get around that we were cavorting as such. But, it was really fun- and they were very intelligent, educated, gentlemanly, and fun to chat with. I didn't talk to them much, mostly kept a reasonable distance with a couple of the other ladies who were less ridiculously inebriated-(still plenty healthy, don't get me wrong)- but I did chat with them a bit and they taught me a few words of Arabic. It was a surreal night.

My trip to the hospital

Foreign workers in the UAE are required to undergo a fairly thorough medical screening once they arrive as part of the residency visa process. So, yesterday morning, I trucked down to the local public hospital with an escort from the college to be poked, prodded, x-rayed (fully clothed, no less- does that really work?) and sampled. It was fine, and they declared me "fit to work", pending the results of an HIV test. Hooray!

Now, this was a public hospital with a wide array of people (patients, employees, doctors) inside of it- and many of them were expatriate male construction workers, and many of them were local Emirati men and women. Not a lot of white people. The lobbies and waiting rooms had separate areas for men and women, and many of the women had completely covered their faces so as not to be stared at by the men. This was an environment that definitely called for a semblance of modesty out of respect for other people in the area. All well and good. So, while I was sitting in the lobby waiting to be x-rayed in full attire, two women, who were youngish, blonde, overweight, British, loud, and dressed in tank tops and shorts, (shorts are a no-no here for both men and women, unless you are at the beach or a resort hotel or nightclub), ambled into the waiting area and plopped right down in the men's seating section. Oblivious, they carried on, loudly chatting about bars and clubs, talking on their cellphones, sticking their feet in people's faces to compare shoes, and generally being what I would consider rude. They were SO oblivious that the doctor came out into the waiting room three times and called "Angela!" and Angela did not respond. The doctor finally had to shout "There is no Angela here in this room? I have her papers? Angela?" That she heard him (probably 15 feet away) and went into the office. It was sort of beyond belief. They got a few *looks* but nobody asked them to move or shut up, which to me seemed like very polite restraint.

How can people, who are guests in someone else's living room, be so unaware of their own behavior?

At the airport

Dan and I have learned a great deal over the years from the diligent consumption of Dan Savage's columns and novels. One of the things we've learned from Mr. Savage, which Dan brought to my attention some time ago, was that nothing will get you whisked into the extra security screening line at the airport faster than flying one-way on a ticket bought with somebody else's credit card. See http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=13080 for a more detailed explanation.

A truly scientific conclusion is always replicable- and, sure enough - today's hypothesis was confirmed with a very low probability of the results occurring randomly! A very nice TSA lady today swabbed every single piece of carry-on material I had with me for explosive residue, flicking me an approving and knowing smile every time the giant black machine blinked 'green' for 'no explosive residue on THAT swab! on to the next!'  Yes m'am, I am flying one-way on a ticket purchased by someone I've never met and hailing from a foreign nation. Swab away. Truthfully, even the other people in the extra security screening line were not being examined as thoroughly as I was. Many of them were able to pick their bags up after x-ray and shuffle right along. But me? I got to sit down and relax, and exchange satisfied glances with the TSA lady. After being so sure it would happen all along, (Thanks Dan Savage!), it was extremely satisfying to have turned out to be right. I probably would have been disappointed had they just let me through un-swabbed. 

On to the next leg. So far, so good. 

Dan

What is Dan doing? Dan is the kind of adventurin' man who isn't scared to pick up stocks and move halfway around the world on more or less a whim. (Note: I would have said "pull up stakes" if Emily hadn't coined that far superior phrase regarding stocks.) As a traveling partner, I can imagine few better. The man always carries a knife and dry pair of socks, he can build a tent in under 10 minutes, and he can drive any vehicle at hand. A man of distinctive taste, he can also select a highly appropriate fine wine or liquor for any dinner gathering, and can read road signs, maps and menus in several languages. These skills and attributes leave nary a situation too sticky to handle- and if it really comes right down to it, he can also box. Dan isn't much of a letter-writer, so I'll try to post my observations on his activities and behaviors somewhat regularly for the benefit of those who know him. Right now he is repairing a household appliance.

Where we live

Dan and I now live here: (starting Feb 18):

Rodrigo y Gaby

See the video here.




So I went and saw Rodrigo y Gaby last night? It was definitely top 5 for sweetest shows I've ever seen. Gaby came at that guitar like a spider monkey. These kids don't speak English but still managed to be adorably cute in their attempts to talk to the crowd. In addition to originals, they played Spinal Tap, Metallica, and Pink Floyd, all on two acoustic/electrics. Plus they used the crowd as a musical instrument and told everybody to clap or hum or sing or whatever at various intervals; and everybody did, in addition to singing the words to songs, AND Rodrigo played the song with a beer bottle as a fret, which I've never seen done except on TV. Seriously, it was just a lot of fun. Check the vid; you'll be impressed.

This is not photoshopped

Yes, there is really starlight scenery on the rooftop of the cabin in an Emirates Airlines flight. Not only are the good people at Emirates Air so thoughtful as to bask their travelers in the calming glow of a starlit expanse, they do it during times when it's actually dark in Dubai. The rest of the time, the cabin is lit up like a sunny meadow on a balmy late fall afternoon, or lit up like a dreamy dusk or a refreshing sunrise. Wha?? This isn't a joke. It's real.

An Explanation of Embarcation

Here's a good question: Why move to the United Arab Emirates? There are many pros and cons. Here are some that I thought of:

Pros:
1. Tax-free salary
2. Sunny every day
3. Meet new people with broader points of view
4. Easily ignore the US media
5. Cheap shawarma
6. Roger Federer likes to visit

Cons:
1. Football starts at 1am
2. Gambling illegal
3. Have to find a new hairdresser

As you can see, there are many dimensions to consider here. Of course, the only reason I started considering these factors in the first place is because I was offered a job - a great, exciting, challenging, growth-potential job- doing something I like with people I like. File that one in the Pro column.

I'm sure there are many Pros and Cons that I'm not even aware of yet. I'll have to add to the list once I get there. I had some new ones today, arising from the preparations phase of the trip.

Pro:
Sleeping in on days I've taken off from work to pack

Con:
Too much work to do to be able to sleep in

Pro:
Good packing energy as a result of excellent new Radiohead album gifted to me by Robert and Liz. Thanks guys!