Today I learned a valuable lesson, which is never ever ever, ever, go to the co-op on Friday (which is actually Saturday in most countries, but, I forgot since I was at work today). The traffic in there was worse than the traffic going from the base to Abu Dhabi. I actually glared at a woman who cut in front of me in line with a shopping cart full of produce, when I only had a bag of tangerines and nectarines to get weighed. My death stare must have frightened her because she moved and then apologized, and that never happens here, as people don't really understand the concept of orderly queuing.
That was probably karmic payment for the silliness I've been up to lately. Now that the gov guys are talking to me, they want me to teach them American things. So I've been educating them in gangster parlance. I taught them the concept of OPP, which they liked a lot. I taught them the expression "don't be a playa hater", though they don't always use it appropriately:
me: I'm going to the kitchen for tea, does anyone need anything?
customer: Don't be a playa hater. Bring me an orange juice.
Some of their favorite expressions include:
"I wasn't born a hustler, I was birthin them"
"This ain't TV but I'll show you what a fear factor is"
"I'm expressin with my full capabilities, and now I'm living in correctional facilities"
"Oh look how he's rapping, look how he's collapsin"
"I want y'all to reach in your (edited for them because I don't want to use bad words) pockets and pay me some (edited for them because I don't want to use bad words) attention"
And, after sitting through a few breakfast "meetings" (during which I'm getting an ulcer because I have a lot of work to do but am spending quality time with the customer instead), I was asked what the US gov says when a meeting has ended. This question was posed after I impolitely left to go work on architecture. I told them that every meeting ends with the top ranking officer saying "get rich or die trying". They loved it.
Okay, most of the US military doesn't say that at the end of meetings. But the cool guys do.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
america's most wanted
My etiquette handbook is really lacking for the situations I find myself in. For example, when my customer invited me to go shoot RPGs tomorrow, I really wasn't sure how to respond. So I said maybe we should stick to guns and archery. The customer said "oh, but it's so much easier to hit the target with an RPG". When my manager got wind of this invite, he said I couldn't go. I can't say I'm too disappointed.
And today, I accidentally stuck my hand out to the wrong guy, and was completely humiliated by his reaction. This happened in a group of my customers. I apologized profusely but then one told me afterwards not to worry about it. I would like to point out that my etiquette book SAID I should offer my hand first as most ME men will not take the initiative. That was completely wrong, and in fact it's the opposite. I'm supposed to wait until they offer their hand to me.
And, I'm never quite sure what to do when people bring me things. One of the frogs has started calling me "the don" because people bring food to my desk all the time (today I was brought a Thai banana from a frog, a normal banana from a brit who gets fresh fruit at his hotel, a sandwich from one of the officers who doesn't even work in my building and whom I've met once, a bag of sesame sticks, a breakfast bar, and a coke). He jokes that he is my tea boy, and made a big production in the office the other day, shifting my tea cup around saying "Today, she wants her tea here. Tomorrow, if she is not happy, I will move her tea here. And every day I will clean her desk." The tea boy in our office cleans my desk every morning and then arranges my cup exactly where it was when he started cleaning my desk. I don't know why he does this. He doesn't clean anyone else's desk. Maybe because my desk is always sticky from eating grapefruit.
I've started calling the frog that fixed my hotel room, and that pretends to be my tea boy, "Cheeky". He calls me "darling" (well, he calls everyone darling). I've nicknamed one of my colleagues "gangsta" and the other one "kid Texas". The brits call me blondie, the MEs are all starting to call me Freddie, and the scots, I just found out today, refer to me as "america's most wanted". Who knew they were fans of Ice Cube.
My etiquette book, BTW, says that nicknames are considered inappropriate since they are normally reserved for family because they are considered too informal for outsiders.
And today, I accidentally stuck my hand out to the wrong guy, and was completely humiliated by his reaction. This happened in a group of my customers. I apologized profusely but then one told me afterwards not to worry about it. I would like to point out that my etiquette book SAID I should offer my hand first as most ME men will not take the initiative. That was completely wrong, and in fact it's the opposite. I'm supposed to wait until they offer their hand to me.
And, I'm never quite sure what to do when people bring me things. One of the frogs has started calling me "the don" because people bring food to my desk all the time (today I was brought a Thai banana from a frog, a normal banana from a brit who gets fresh fruit at his hotel, a sandwich from one of the officers who doesn't even work in my building and whom I've met once, a bag of sesame sticks, a breakfast bar, and a coke). He jokes that he is my tea boy, and made a big production in the office the other day, shifting my tea cup around saying "Today, she wants her tea here. Tomorrow, if she is not happy, I will move her tea here. And every day I will clean her desk." The tea boy in our office cleans my desk every morning and then arranges my cup exactly where it was when he started cleaning my desk. I don't know why he does this. He doesn't clean anyone else's desk. Maybe because my desk is always sticky from eating grapefruit.
I've started calling the frog that fixed my hotel room, and that pretends to be my tea boy, "Cheeky". He calls me "darling" (well, he calls everyone darling). I've nicknamed one of my colleagues "gangsta" and the other one "kid Texas". The brits call me blondie, the MEs are all starting to call me Freddie, and the scots, I just found out today, refer to me as "america's most wanted". Who knew they were fans of Ice Cube.
My etiquette book, BTW, says that nicknames are considered inappropriate since they are normally reserved for family because they are considered too informal for outsiders.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
the boy's club
Today I was summoned to this AF guy's office. I was surprised, and a little apprehensive, as the officers avoid me like the plague unless they have to talk to me. Except for the 3 secretaries I'm the only woman in the building, the only woman in western dress, and I'm taller than most of the men I work with.
I walked into the office and there were four other guys there. I was invited to sit down, and given a large glass of watermelon juice. Then a tea boy came in and gave everyone else orange juice. The AF guy told me that he had heard I like watermelon (probably from the meat sandwich incident) and he had sent someone out to get it for me.
I tried to discuss something I've been working on, but the officer finally told me to chill. He just wanted to hang out. It was kind of strange because people kept coming in to his office to get papers signed and permissions for things and we were all just sitting there while he yelled at people and refused to sign forms.
Then I was given a hummus wrap. The officer asked if I knew what hummus was. I launched into a description of the different places I buy hummus in the US. He asked if I was scared to be in his country. I told him I wasn't, and that I wanted to go rock climbing in a particular area which, by coincidence, is where he is from, though most people never visit there because it's really remote and considered the back water. Brownie points.
There was another officer there who apparently thought I was british, who launched into a diatribe about americans who come to this country. Then someone else pointed out I obviously am not british. I told the officer that I enjoyed his diatribe, and that he should have his own TV show. This was surprisingly the right thing to say. I also nicknamed him the Rock because I couldn't really pronounce his name. More brownie points.
After about an hour I said that I had to get some work done. The officers invited me to go shooting with them. But they shoot not just guns but RPGs. I was like I don't think I should shoot an RPG and one of the officers said "they are much easier to hit targets with than guns".
So, somehow, I suspect because of my colleague AH, I've been inducted into the boys' club at the base. They apparently frequent the restaurants at my hotel so I'll probably meet up with them one night. Weirdly, I think rock climbing is what made them think I might be more fun to hang out with than the average girl. They want to learn.
As I was leaving, the officer who invited me up said if I ever have any problems to call him. Since I am scheduled to go out for ladies' night with Ireland and her UK friends, I thought it wouldn't hurt to have an ace in my back pocket.
I walked into the office and there were four other guys there. I was invited to sit down, and given a large glass of watermelon juice. Then a tea boy came in and gave everyone else orange juice. The AF guy told me that he had heard I like watermelon (probably from the meat sandwich incident) and he had sent someone out to get it for me.
I tried to discuss something I've been working on, but the officer finally told me to chill. He just wanted to hang out. It was kind of strange because people kept coming in to his office to get papers signed and permissions for things and we were all just sitting there while he yelled at people and refused to sign forms.
Then I was given a hummus wrap. The officer asked if I knew what hummus was. I launched into a description of the different places I buy hummus in the US. He asked if I was scared to be in his country. I told him I wasn't, and that I wanted to go rock climbing in a particular area which, by coincidence, is where he is from, though most people never visit there because it's really remote and considered the back water. Brownie points.
There was another officer there who apparently thought I was british, who launched into a diatribe about americans who come to this country. Then someone else pointed out I obviously am not british. I told the officer that I enjoyed his diatribe, and that he should have his own TV show. This was surprisingly the right thing to say. I also nicknamed him the Rock because I couldn't really pronounce his name. More brownie points.
After about an hour I said that I had to get some work done. The officers invited me to go shooting with them. But they shoot not just guns but RPGs. I was like I don't think I should shoot an RPG and one of the officers said "they are much easier to hit targets with than guns".
So, somehow, I suspect because of my colleague AH, I've been inducted into the boys' club at the base. They apparently frequent the restaurants at my hotel so I'll probably meet up with them one night. Weirdly, I think rock climbing is what made them think I might be more fun to hang out with than the average girl. They want to learn.
As I was leaving, the officer who invited me up said if I ever have any problems to call him. Since I am scheduled to go out for ladies' night with Ireland and her UK friends, I thought it wouldn't hurt to have an ace in my back pocket.
Monday, September 28, 2009
french high five
These days, I am perplexed and a bit confused by the world in which I live.
Take, for example, my hotel odyssey this weekend. Every day, for three days starting Thursday night, my hotel would call me and say that they had expected me to check out, even though, in the system, my reservation clearly shows I am at this hotel until I leave for Banff at the end of October. When I would go down to the front desk to try to sort the matter, I was told they could only check me in for one more day, and the next day the process would be repeated (going to the front desk, having my credit card imprint taken, closing the previous day's bill, having my passport re-copied, getting new keys, having the towel boy stop by my room to see if I needed fresh towels, and then the annoying phone call from the manager welcoming me to the hotel).
I was complaining about this at work on Sunday, when I discovered one of the frogs I work with knows the general manager of my hotel (all the frogs here know each other). He called the GM, got my reservation sorted, and even got me invited to the nicest restaurant in my hotel for a private dinner with the GM. Since I have all my hotel room phones stuffed in the bedside table drawers because I really don't like phones, I missed that invite. But still. I was amazed the frog tried to help me.
Then, today, he brought me a "surprise" of "sweeties". The "sweeties" were these miniature Thai bananas that are sort of dried out, but they still look like miniature bananas. They are covered in something brown, which isn't honey, or sugar. Maybe I don't want to know what the brown stuff is. But it's mildly sweet, and the bananas were really good.
Being somewhat suspicious of the frogs being nice to me, I headed into a meeting this afternoon with the one who brought me the bananas. It was supposed to be only an hour, but ended up being almost three hours. We worked out some strategic issues on a new project, and then, at the end, he said, in french, my hat is off to you. The only reason I knew what he was saying is because of reading a version of cat in the hat with a french translation that went along with the english. Then the frog gave me a high five.
The french, they are such an odd group. They bring you nice snacks and then try to kill you. They're moody, prone to strange pronunciations, and think the entire US is built on a foundation of chicken wire.
But every once in a while, you get along with them. And that's nice.
Take, for example, my hotel odyssey this weekend. Every day, for three days starting Thursday night, my hotel would call me and say that they had expected me to check out, even though, in the system, my reservation clearly shows I am at this hotel until I leave for Banff at the end of October. When I would go down to the front desk to try to sort the matter, I was told they could only check me in for one more day, and the next day the process would be repeated (going to the front desk, having my credit card imprint taken, closing the previous day's bill, having my passport re-copied, getting new keys, having the towel boy stop by my room to see if I needed fresh towels, and then the annoying phone call from the manager welcoming me to the hotel).
I was complaining about this at work on Sunday, when I discovered one of the frogs I work with knows the general manager of my hotel (all the frogs here know each other). He called the GM, got my reservation sorted, and even got me invited to the nicest restaurant in my hotel for a private dinner with the GM. Since I have all my hotel room phones stuffed in the bedside table drawers because I really don't like phones, I missed that invite. But still. I was amazed the frog tried to help me.
Then, today, he brought me a "surprise" of "sweeties". The "sweeties" were these miniature Thai bananas that are sort of dried out, but they still look like miniature bananas. They are covered in something brown, which isn't honey, or sugar. Maybe I don't want to know what the brown stuff is. But it's mildly sweet, and the bananas were really good.
Being somewhat suspicious of the frogs being nice to me, I headed into a meeting this afternoon with the one who brought me the bananas. It was supposed to be only an hour, but ended up being almost three hours. We worked out some strategic issues on a new project, and then, at the end, he said, in french, my hat is off to you. The only reason I knew what he was saying is because of reading a version of cat in the hat with a french translation that went along with the english. Then the frog gave me a high five.
The french, they are such an odd group. They bring you nice snacks and then try to kill you. They're moody, prone to strange pronunciations, and think the entire US is built on a foundation of chicken wire.
But every once in a while, you get along with them. And that's nice.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
my special forces surprise
Today I was sitting in my cube drawing a data model and trying to drown out the conversation around me. With all the euros back from vacation I felt like I was in a Wallace and Gromit cartoon. They were complaining about having to work a 10 hour day right after getting back from vacation.
I was also a little worried because my base pass has expired and my colleague AH had taken all of my paperwork to get a new one. If security came by to check everyone's papers I was going to be in trouble.
So when a high ranking commando in cammos walked into the office I tried to pretend to be really busy so he wouldn't notice me. But he walked right up to my desk. He said something like "are you Franki?", but he couldn't pronounce my name, so that isn't quite what he said (my name is as hard for them to say as theirs are for me). I turned around and noticed he had two guns strapped outside his uniform. Uh oh, I thought. Conversation in the room ceased as everyone was well aware I didn't have my base pass.
I admitted to being me, and then saw he was also carrying two plastic bags. One had what appeared to be a sippy cup full of something pink (for reasons I'll never understand, people here put drinks in plastic bags, and then hand them to you, causing the drink to spill inside the bag and the cup to get all sticky). The other bag had something oblong in it.
He said "strawberry is heavy, watermelon is light, so light for you" and he handed me the sippy cup. It contained watermelon juice. Then he said "I present you." He handed me the other bag. "A meat sandwich". Though I've had guys say and do many strange things around me, I've never had one give me a present of a meat sandwich. I must have looked confused. He said "with hummus". I nodded and smiled as if I understood exactly what was going on, and thanked him. He did an abrupt about face and left the room.
It turns out my colleague AH put this guy up to delivering me a lamb sandwich, I think because he was tired of listening to me whine about how much weight I lost during ramadan (gained back a total of 7 lbs as of today). But then it was like the flood gates opened. After I finished the sandwich another guy in the office brought me falafel balls. The little french twits that sit near me were like "oh, did you see that dog outside?" as I bit into one (admittedly, it did look like poo).
Then my colleague brought me a lunch box from this Saudi restaurant. It had two huge pieces of fish, more rice than one person could eat in a day, yogurt sauce, something like salsa but not, and a salad. It will probably take me three more lunches to finish it.
One thing I'm learning is that in general arabs are very hospitable and generous. And if you show the least amount of gratitude they will go over the top to do even more for you. The other day I was walking with two of my colleagues who had both offered, in spite of my refusals, to carry my bag and one finally said "This is embarrassing. You are with two men and you are carrying your laptop. If anyone sees us they are going to wonder what kind of men we are to make you carry your own bag."
Now I'm thinking. Could I have been getting these guys to drive me around, get me food, and carry my stuff all this time? Hm. I wonder how long it will take me to turn into a total prima donna in these conditions.
I was also a little worried because my base pass has expired and my colleague AH had taken all of my paperwork to get a new one. If security came by to check everyone's papers I was going to be in trouble.
So when a high ranking commando in cammos walked into the office I tried to pretend to be really busy so he wouldn't notice me. But he walked right up to my desk. He said something like "are you Franki?", but he couldn't pronounce my name, so that isn't quite what he said (my name is as hard for them to say as theirs are for me). I turned around and noticed he had two guns strapped outside his uniform. Uh oh, I thought. Conversation in the room ceased as everyone was well aware I didn't have my base pass.
I admitted to being me, and then saw he was also carrying two plastic bags. One had what appeared to be a sippy cup full of something pink (for reasons I'll never understand, people here put drinks in plastic bags, and then hand them to you, causing the drink to spill inside the bag and the cup to get all sticky). The other bag had something oblong in it.
He said "strawberry is heavy, watermelon is light, so light for you" and he handed me the sippy cup. It contained watermelon juice. Then he said "I present you." He handed me the other bag. "A meat sandwich". Though I've had guys say and do many strange things around me, I've never had one give me a present of a meat sandwich. I must have looked confused. He said "with hummus". I nodded and smiled as if I understood exactly what was going on, and thanked him. He did an abrupt about face and left the room.
It turns out my colleague AH put this guy up to delivering me a lamb sandwich, I think because he was tired of listening to me whine about how much weight I lost during ramadan (gained back a total of 7 lbs as of today). But then it was like the flood gates opened. After I finished the sandwich another guy in the office brought me falafel balls. The little french twits that sit near me were like "oh, did you see that dog outside?" as I bit into one (admittedly, it did look like poo).
Then my colleague brought me a lunch box from this Saudi restaurant. It had two huge pieces of fish, more rice than one person could eat in a day, yogurt sauce, something like salsa but not, and a salad. It will probably take me three more lunches to finish it.
One thing I'm learning is that in general arabs are very hospitable and generous. And if you show the least amount of gratitude they will go over the top to do even more for you. The other day I was walking with two of my colleagues who had both offered, in spite of my refusals, to carry my bag and one finally said "This is embarrassing. You are with two men and you are carrying your laptop. If anyone sees us they are going to wonder what kind of men we are to make you carry your own bag."
Now I'm thinking. Could I have been getting these guys to drive me around, get me food, and carry my stuff all this time? Hm. I wonder how long it will take me to turn into a total prima donna in these conditions.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
more meridien madness
Saturday
I woke up at 7 am because my hotel phone was ringing. Of course I didn't answer it but instead decided to get up, eat some oatmeal, and read my book in bed.
An hour later I heard some fumbling outside my hotel door, and then a swishing sound. I went over to the door to see what was going on, and there was an envelope addressed to "Annie". Always curious to read other people's mail, I opened the letter. It was actually for me. The letter stated I had to move out of my room by 10 am "to accommodate another guest".
I figured this was a trick to get me out of my nice room into a room I wouldn't like so I called the front desk. They told me there was a handicap guest coming to the hotel that needed my room. Apparently they had asked all the other people on my hall and no one was willing to move. I agreed to move and they gave me a new room number.
I packed up my stuff and went to the beach. When I came back I picked up a key for my new room, went in, and discovered the air conditioning in my room didn't work. I discovered this because it was like a million billion degrees in my room.
They sent someone up to fix the problem. I went to the gym for two hours. Came back, and waited another two hours. The room was still boiling hot. So I packed up my stuff again, and this time was relocated to a really nice room one floor above with a private balcony overlooking the beach. Very nice.
Except, the hot water didn't work. I took a shower around midnight and almost froze.
Sunday
Before going to the gym in the morning, I asked the front desk to fix the water problem. It wasn't fixed by the end of the day. So they made me pack my stuff up again, at 6 pm, and moved me back to the room with the non-working air-conditioning. The bell hop who was hauling my stuff around turned the thermostat down to 12 degrees C and the room cooled off. Somewhat.
Monday
I decided living with cold water was better than living with no air-conditioning. So I packed up my stuff, again, and moved back to my room on the third floor. After I moved I realized that the water temperature knobs were installed incorrectly and realized that was why I had no hot water.
So now I have a room I like, with a private balcony, that's quieter than my last room, and won't have to move until I leave for Canada at the end of October.
If I could only get them to clean out my mini bar so I had a refrigerator...
I woke up at 7 am because my hotel phone was ringing. Of course I didn't answer it but instead decided to get up, eat some oatmeal, and read my book in bed.
An hour later I heard some fumbling outside my hotel door, and then a swishing sound. I went over to the door to see what was going on, and there was an envelope addressed to "Annie". Always curious to read other people's mail, I opened the letter. It was actually for me. The letter stated I had to move out of my room by 10 am "to accommodate another guest".
I figured this was a trick to get me out of my nice room into a room I wouldn't like so I called the front desk. They told me there was a handicap guest coming to the hotel that needed my room. Apparently they had asked all the other people on my hall and no one was willing to move. I agreed to move and they gave me a new room number.
I packed up my stuff and went to the beach. When I came back I picked up a key for my new room, went in, and discovered the air conditioning in my room didn't work. I discovered this because it was like a million billion degrees in my room.
They sent someone up to fix the problem. I went to the gym for two hours. Came back, and waited another two hours. The room was still boiling hot. So I packed up my stuff again, and this time was relocated to a really nice room one floor above with a private balcony overlooking the beach. Very nice.
Except, the hot water didn't work. I took a shower around midnight and almost froze.
Sunday
Before going to the gym in the morning, I asked the front desk to fix the water problem. It wasn't fixed by the end of the day. So they made me pack my stuff up again, at 6 pm, and moved me back to the room with the non-working air-conditioning. The bell hop who was hauling my stuff around turned the thermostat down to 12 degrees C and the room cooled off. Somewhat.
Monday
I decided living with cold water was better than living with no air-conditioning. So I packed up my stuff, again, and moved back to my room on the third floor. After I moved I realized that the water temperature knobs were installed incorrectly and realized that was why I had no hot water.
So now I have a room I like, with a private balcony, that's quieter than my last room, and won't have to move until I leave for Canada at the end of October.
If I could only get them to clean out my mini bar so I had a refrigerator...
etisalat epic
Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that, with a few exceptions, I never answer or talk on the phone. But here everyone lives by their mobile, and it isn't uncommon in the middle of an important meeting for someone to answer their phone and carry on a conversation (this happens in movie theaters as well, from what I've read in the papers).
So, being without a phone here is considered the worst possible existence. My phone stopped working on Thursday, though. I couldn't figure out what was wrong and then AH told me I had run out of money. No problem, I thought, I'll just add money using my online account.
I did that Thursday afternoon and then was swept up in my hotel room epic so I never got a chance to test my phone until Friday. It wasn't working. I called etisalat, the phone company here, to find out what was wrong. They couldn't tell me over the phone but instead kept sending me text messages in arabic that I couldn't read. I tried to find someone in the hotel that could read them but no luck.
Finally, while waiting in line at the co-op with a bag full of nectarines on Saturday, I got a guy in line behind me to read the message. It turns out etisalat changed their policy a week ago so they no longer allow foreign credit cards to be used on line to add minutes to their phones. I was like how do I get my phone to work? He told me to buy a card to add minutes.
Seemed simple enough. I got a card and followed the instructions on adding minutes to my phone. All I had to do, according to the directions, was type in the number on the card and the minutes would be added. But every time I did that I got an error message that the number I entered was invalid. Meanwhile my colleagues here were getting aggravated with me because I never answer my phone and couldn't respond back to text messages. I tried to go back to the co-op to enquire what was wrong with my card, but it was closed for Eid.
Finally, I was sitting in my lebanese pizza place waiting for my food and the girl at the cash register told me that I had to scratch off this silver band on the card to get the number to add the minutes. How I would have known that if someone hadn't told me remains a mystery. Anyway, my phone is working again after 4 days.
Although no one is texting me anymore. I'm sad.
Not really :D
So, being without a phone here is considered the worst possible existence. My phone stopped working on Thursday, though. I couldn't figure out what was wrong and then AH told me I had run out of money. No problem, I thought, I'll just add money using my online account.
I did that Thursday afternoon and then was swept up in my hotel room epic so I never got a chance to test my phone until Friday. It wasn't working. I called etisalat, the phone company here, to find out what was wrong. They couldn't tell me over the phone but instead kept sending me text messages in arabic that I couldn't read. I tried to find someone in the hotel that could read them but no luck.
Finally, while waiting in line at the co-op with a bag full of nectarines on Saturday, I got a guy in line behind me to read the message. It turns out etisalat changed their policy a week ago so they no longer allow foreign credit cards to be used on line to add minutes to their phones. I was like how do I get my phone to work? He told me to buy a card to add minutes.
Seemed simple enough. I got a card and followed the instructions on adding minutes to my phone. All I had to do, according to the directions, was type in the number on the card and the minutes would be added. But every time I did that I got an error message that the number I entered was invalid. Meanwhile my colleagues here were getting aggravated with me because I never answer my phone and couldn't respond back to text messages. I tried to go back to the co-op to enquire what was wrong with my card, but it was closed for Eid.
Finally, I was sitting in my lebanese pizza place waiting for my food and the girl at the cash register told me that I had to scratch off this silver band on the card to get the number to add the minutes. How I would have known that if someone hadn't told me remains a mystery. Anyway, my phone is working again after 4 days.
Although no one is texting me anymore. I'm sad.
Not really :D
Thursday, September 17, 2009
meridien odyssey
I spent most of last night packing my stuff up to move to a studio in my hotel. But I kept worrying about what would happen to Lance. He's just a kitten and even though there's plenty of food to eat around here, I was worried he would starve.
So, after work AH dropped me off at the residence part of the hotel. He insisted on coming in with me to make sure everything was okay. It wasn't. They had no reservation for me. AH tried to straighten things out for me, but everyone at meridien was moving at snail's pace (like this morning, when it took me 25 minutes to check out of my room - seriously, 25 minutes, mostly because the guy behind the front desk kept folding every printed piece of paper and putting it into an envelope - and somewhere, a tree screams).
They brought my luggage over to the residence compound (not exactly close to the hotel), and then showed me this room they were going to put me in. I was like um, I don't think so. It was tiny, horrible, and I didn't like the bed at all. The manager of the residence compound was a little aggravated with me, but I was like you are not seriously expecting me to move into a room for the next 5 months that is no where near as nice as my hotel room, are you? Apparently, he was, but I decided I was going back to the hotel.
The poor bell hop with my luggage on the trolley had to take it all the way back to the hotel (well, don't cry too hard for him, he loves me because I pick up stuff for him when I go to the co-op and I tip him well) so I could check back in. I got this guy that I really don't like. He argued with me about the room rate for 45 minutes. I was like dude, this is a [my company] negotiated rate. We are not at the bazaar. You can't change prices on me. But still, he kept trying to do all this crazy stuff to try to get me to pay more for my room, culminating with him telling me I would have to check in every day because he refused to make me a reservation for more than one day.
I was like fine, what ever dude, just give me my key. Even the bell hop kept going behind the desk to try to move things along. I got my key and went to my room. It was on the other side of the hotel from my original room. Everything in the room was backwards. I was not happy. But, I thought, at least I'll be close to Lance again.
Then I realized the roof system off of my balcony in my new room didn't connect to the roof system off the balcony of my old room. So there was no way to get to Lance. And, I had lost my ocean view. So I went back downstairs, and got the guy I like at the front desk. I told him I didn't mean to be difficult, but I really just wanted to go back to my old room. He started to make me a key and the guy I don't like got upset and was like you can't move her back to that room because of the rate her company negotiated.
Another long discussion ensued until I invoked the name of AH, at which point I was given two keys to my old room. The bell hop came up with me and moved all of my stuff, and when I tried to tip him he refused to take it. At this point I had about 10 keys and the bell hop tested each one to see which ones worked while I unpacked all of my stuff again.
Hopefully Lance didn't listen to me last night, and will be waiting for me on the roof. Even though I wasted a lot of time moving out of my room just to move back in, I'm glad to be back here.
When traveling, it's the little consistencies that mean a lot. The best part of the story is that I had a big box of cookies that I didn't eat, and, rather than throwing my cookies away, I hid them behind the safe in the closet and left clues in the mini bar as to their whereabouts. The maid inexplicably threw my clues away. The cookies could have been there forever. But, instead, I'm eating them.
So, after work AH dropped me off at the residence part of the hotel. He insisted on coming in with me to make sure everything was okay. It wasn't. They had no reservation for me. AH tried to straighten things out for me, but everyone at meridien was moving at snail's pace (like this morning, when it took me 25 minutes to check out of my room - seriously, 25 minutes, mostly because the guy behind the front desk kept folding every printed piece of paper and putting it into an envelope - and somewhere, a tree screams).
They brought my luggage over to the residence compound (not exactly close to the hotel), and then showed me this room they were going to put me in. I was like um, I don't think so. It was tiny, horrible, and I didn't like the bed at all. The manager of the residence compound was a little aggravated with me, but I was like you are not seriously expecting me to move into a room for the next 5 months that is no where near as nice as my hotel room, are you? Apparently, he was, but I decided I was going back to the hotel.
The poor bell hop with my luggage on the trolley had to take it all the way back to the hotel (well, don't cry too hard for him, he loves me because I pick up stuff for him when I go to the co-op and I tip him well) so I could check back in. I got this guy that I really don't like. He argued with me about the room rate for 45 minutes. I was like dude, this is a [my company] negotiated rate. We are not at the bazaar. You can't change prices on me. But still, he kept trying to do all this crazy stuff to try to get me to pay more for my room, culminating with him telling me I would have to check in every day because he refused to make me a reservation for more than one day.
I was like fine, what ever dude, just give me my key. Even the bell hop kept going behind the desk to try to move things along. I got my key and went to my room. It was on the other side of the hotel from my original room. Everything in the room was backwards. I was not happy. But, I thought, at least I'll be close to Lance again.
Then I realized the roof system off of my balcony in my new room didn't connect to the roof system off the balcony of my old room. So there was no way to get to Lance. And, I had lost my ocean view. So I went back downstairs, and got the guy I like at the front desk. I told him I didn't mean to be difficult, but I really just wanted to go back to my old room. He started to make me a key and the guy I don't like got upset and was like you can't move her back to that room because of the rate her company negotiated.
Another long discussion ensued until I invoked the name of AH, at which point I was given two keys to my old room. The bell hop came up with me and moved all of my stuff, and when I tried to tip him he refused to take it. At this point I had about 10 keys and the bell hop tested each one to see which ones worked while I unpacked all of my stuff again.
Hopefully Lance didn't listen to me last night, and will be waiting for me on the roof. Even though I wasted a lot of time moving out of my room just to move back in, I'm glad to be back here.
When traveling, it's the little consistencies that mean a lot. The best part of the story is that I had a big box of cookies that I didn't eat, and, rather than throwing my cookies away, I hid them behind the safe in the closet and left clues in the mini bar as to their whereabouts. The maid inexplicably threw my clues away. The cookies could have been there forever. But, instead, I'm eating them.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
relocation
Tomorrow I move from my hotel room to a studio in the same hotel, but a different building. I have no idea what the studio looks like but it supposedly has a refrigerator and is smaller than my room.
I've been trying to explain this to Lancelot because I'm worried he won't be able to find me. For the past week I have told him that I'm moving, and then I point to the building where the studios are, but he usually just gives me a look like "um, why don't you stop talking and give me my sandwich?" Tonight, after he finished dinner, I brought him some cheeses (he likes them for dessert) and had a great idea to explain to him where I'm going to be moving.
After some experimentation I discovered that Lance really likes laughing cow light cheeses (I told him that he's a little skinny to be eating light cheese but I don't think he cared). Since they are triangular I thought I would make a cheese arrow pointing to my new building. But, Lance ate the arrow before I could finish it.
Hopefully I can call him and he'll know where I am. He responds when I call him now, though he only let me pet him that one time. Usually if I get to close to him he cries and then hisses at me. Sometimes he's in a rotten mood and acts really mean. I'll bring him a sandwich and he won't touch it until I walk away. And then when I check on him to see if he ready for his cheeses, he'll give me this look like he doesn't know who ate the sandwich, but it wasn't him, because he's too mad at me to eat anything I might bring him.
Other times he'll sit outside my sliding glass door and cry. But when I open the door he stops and looks at me like oh, what are you doing out here this late? Some days he's really excited about dessert and he runs around on the external roof piping. Other days he lays on the roof like it's too hot to move (it is) and gives me this attitude like "oh, just put my cheese over there, and maybe I'll eat it".
Strange cat. I never know what he wants. I hope he finds me in my new place. I'm going to miss my nightly walks on the roof. Maybe I'll sneak over to the roof every night until Lance figures out where I am. Now that I've been feeding him I don't think I should stop.
I've been trying to explain this to Lancelot because I'm worried he won't be able to find me. For the past week I have told him that I'm moving, and then I point to the building where the studios are, but he usually just gives me a look like "um, why don't you stop talking and give me my sandwich?" Tonight, after he finished dinner, I brought him some cheeses (he likes them for dessert) and had a great idea to explain to him where I'm going to be moving.
After some experimentation I discovered that Lance really likes laughing cow light cheeses (I told him that he's a little skinny to be eating light cheese but I don't think he cared). Since they are triangular I thought I would make a cheese arrow pointing to my new building. But, Lance ate the arrow before I could finish it.
Hopefully I can call him and he'll know where I am. He responds when I call him now, though he only let me pet him that one time. Usually if I get to close to him he cries and then hisses at me. Sometimes he's in a rotten mood and acts really mean. I'll bring him a sandwich and he won't touch it until I walk away. And then when I check on him to see if he ready for his cheeses, he'll give me this look like he doesn't know who ate the sandwich, but it wasn't him, because he's too mad at me to eat anything I might bring him.
Other times he'll sit outside my sliding glass door and cry. But when I open the door he stops and looks at me like oh, what are you doing out here this late? Some days he's really excited about dessert and he runs around on the external roof piping. Other days he lays on the roof like it's too hot to move (it is) and gives me this attitude like "oh, just put my cheese over there, and maybe I'll eat it".
Strange cat. I never know what he wants. I hope he finds me in my new place. I'm going to miss my nightly walks on the roof. Maybe I'll sneak over to the roof every night until Lance figures out where I am. Now that I've been feeding him I don't think I should stop.
fat face
My poor colleague N. He had to drag me all over hell and gone today trying to get my visit visa updated so I don't have to leave the country to renew it. We couldn't find the immigration building and then, once we found it, it took us a while to get a parking space and find the room where they process the visitor visas because the building looks like it was designed by some hollywood director making a movie about scary government buildings. It was really hot today, and not a fun task to do when fasting and not getting sleep.
I had actually hired someone to renew my visa, but he needed a photo (for some inexplicable reason). N and I were working away on a technical reference model when he got the call saying we needed to come down to immigration immediately with the photos. I was freaking out, but then realized immediately in arab time means they aren't expecting you to show up for at least an hour.
N found a photo shop close to the base and the guy said he could make my photos in 10 minutes. I walked into the room where he was going to take my photo and tried to do something with my hair. I haven't washed it since last Thursday (it gets a salt water rinse when I go swimming so why wash it) and it was looking kind of bad as I haven't taken it out of a ponytail in forever.
N stood behind the photographer and made faces at me, including one that made him look like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. So I ended up with a horrible picture with my hair looking like crap and a stupid look on my face. The photog did not show the photo to me. He showed it to N, apparently thinking I was N's bitch or something. N told him to print 20 copies of the photo (and then complained about the price, roughly $20 - I was like dude, in the US you only get 2 photos for that price).
When the photos printed out I got to see how horrible the picture was. N was laughing the whole way to the immigration office. I told him that if I got kidnapped and he gave someone that photo so they would know what I looked like that I would kick his ass. I then said I was going to throw all the photos away, and N said he wanted them so he could make a collage of me, like a serial murderer. Hm. That seems creepy when I write it, but it was actually pretty funny when he said it.
We got to the immigration office after driving around for a while. Whenever N was getting aggro about the traffic I would pull out the picture and show it to him and he would laugh. Then while we were waiting for my visa guy (after we rushed to get there, he wasn't even there, so we had to wait 10 minutes for him) N examined the picture in more detail.
N: You look really fat in this picture. Which is weird because you aren't fat.
F: Thanks. Give me my picture back.
N: Look at your hair. It's so weird.
F: I look like a lesbian, I know.
N: Like you have a mullet. You would be the guy lesbian.
F: Nice. Give me my picture back.
N: You know, you look at least 10 pounds heavier in this picture. I think the problem is you have a fat face. (He holds the picture up next to my head). Yeah, you definitely have a fat face.
A short discussion ensues about how Africans have the best bone structure, and I obviously have flawed genes because I have no bone structure in my face, which is why it looks fat. Then my visa guy showed up right before N had the chance to totally destroyed my self esteem.
When we got back to the base, he told everyone about my picture and now they all want to see it. This french guy I work with said he wants a copy to put up in his cube. They all think it's so funny I have 19 horrible pictures of myself, and one horrible picture forever in my UAE government file. Great.
I am, however, grateful to N for helping me out with my visa renewal. I never could have figured the system out by myself, and he did everything for me.
I had actually hired someone to renew my visa, but he needed a photo (for some inexplicable reason). N and I were working away on a technical reference model when he got the call saying we needed to come down to immigration immediately with the photos. I was freaking out, but then realized immediately in arab time means they aren't expecting you to show up for at least an hour.
N found a photo shop close to the base and the guy said he could make my photos in 10 minutes. I walked into the room where he was going to take my photo and tried to do something with my hair. I haven't washed it since last Thursday (it gets a salt water rinse when I go swimming so why wash it) and it was looking kind of bad as I haven't taken it out of a ponytail in forever.
N stood behind the photographer and made faces at me, including one that made him look like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. So I ended up with a horrible picture with my hair looking like crap and a stupid look on my face. The photog did not show the photo to me. He showed it to N, apparently thinking I was N's bitch or something. N told him to print 20 copies of the photo (and then complained about the price, roughly $20 - I was like dude, in the US you only get 2 photos for that price).
When the photos printed out I got to see how horrible the picture was. N was laughing the whole way to the immigration office. I told him that if I got kidnapped and he gave someone that photo so they would know what I looked like that I would kick his ass. I then said I was going to throw all the photos away, and N said he wanted them so he could make a collage of me, like a serial murderer. Hm. That seems creepy when I write it, but it was actually pretty funny when he said it.
We got to the immigration office after driving around for a while. Whenever N was getting aggro about the traffic I would pull out the picture and show it to him and he would laugh. Then while we were waiting for my visa guy (after we rushed to get there, he wasn't even there, so we had to wait 10 minutes for him) N examined the picture in more detail.
N: You look really fat in this picture. Which is weird because you aren't fat.
F: Thanks. Give me my picture back.
N: Look at your hair. It's so weird.
F: I look like a lesbian, I know.
N: Like you have a mullet. You would be the guy lesbian.
F: Nice. Give me my picture back.
N: You know, you look at least 10 pounds heavier in this picture. I think the problem is you have a fat face. (He holds the picture up next to my head). Yeah, you definitely have a fat face.
A short discussion ensues about how Africans have the best bone structure, and I obviously have flawed genes because I have no bone structure in my face, which is why it looks fat. Then my visa guy showed up right before N had the chance to totally destroyed my self esteem.
When we got back to the base, he told everyone about my picture and now they all want to see it. This french guy I work with said he wants a copy to put up in his cube. They all think it's so funny I have 19 horrible pictures of myself, and one horrible picture forever in my UAE government file. Great.
I am, however, grateful to N for helping me out with my visa renewal. I never could have figured the system out by myself, and he did everything for me.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
this emirati life
Things are going to be slow at the office this week with ramadan wearing people out and Eid about to start next week. There was a lot of chit chat today, and I found out some interesting things.
First, it's almost impossible for a westerner to meet an emirati family. The women are kept more or less locked up. There is a separate entrance in every house for men and women. Even siblings are separated when they turn 13. Some emirati girls sneak out and try to have dates with boys. If they are caught (there are special police patrolling the corniche, a popular area that runs along the sea) they are arrested and put in jail. Most emiratis have arranged marriages, and the potential groom will normally send his sisters to the house of the girl he might be marrying, and they check her out for him. It's very expensive to get a divorce here, but if you are caught having an affair both people are killed (men usually by hanging, and women by stoning). And an emirati woman who marries a foreigner loses her emirati benefits (they get housing and health care), but the same does not happen to an emirati man if his spouse converts to islam and becomes a UAE citizen.
Second, playing chess is considered haram, or, forbidden. This is because some imams think it takes away from time that is supposed to be spent praying.
Third, it is an accepted thing that most pakistani men have, um, relationships with other men. Almost everyone I work with, except for the frog, are pakis, and they discuss this as if they are talking about the weather. I was pretty shocked to hear that homosexuality is rife in the pakistani community because it's illegal in UAE and punishable by jail or removal from the country. But the pakis were like whatever, what's the big deal? That conversation started because the frog told me that I shouldn't take taxis after 10 pm, and that if I did, not to get into a taxi driven by a paki because he might abduct me (one thinks this is wishful thinking on the part of the frog). The pakis jumped in and said "oh no, they only do that to boys".
Fourth, since everything is supposed to be bigger and better in the UAE, I get special attention because 1. I have the biggest hair (which currently looks like a 70s afro) and 2. I'm the tallest person in the office. One of the retired generals who now work in my space came over during this part of the conversation and asked me how tall I was (the height conversation started because I said I thought a taxi driver wouldn't abduct me because I'm too big) and then he said "you must be at least 6 feet tall". Figuring his grasp of english measurement was equivalent to my grasp of the metric system I said "no, I'm only 5'8"". A short silence ensued, and then the general said "You must be at least 6 feet tall, because I am 5'8" (he's 5'4")". Realizing what I had said embarrassed him I admitted that yes, I am 5'8". Now everyone is calling me "the amazon".
Fifth, when I was commenting on the fact that UAE was able to build a metro in less than two years, but at a huge cost, when they have not provided public transportation to anywhere else in the country, I was told "yeah, sheik [one of the sheiks in charge of UAE] had a temper tantrum because he wanted a train, so they built one". UAE is one of the few countries I've visited with no bus service between cities. If you want to go to a remote part of the country, your only option is to rent a car (which has it's own dangers as rentals here are renowned for being unreliable and breaking down in the middle of the desert). There is a bus that goes from Abu Dhabi to Dubai, but there's no station for it, it's always crowded, and there is no set schedule for it.
And, about the metro, it opened Wednesday. There is a gold class car that is supposed to be like business class on a plane (considering the entire metro line only takes 45 minutes to traverse, that seems a bit over the top). There were technical difficulties that caused huge delays because the emiratis riding the trains (which are computer controlled and have no driver) kept pushing the emergency button and stopping the trains. The paper yesterday had a huge article that people would be fined the equivalent of $200 for doing that.
Sixth, the worst thing you can do in UAE is run a red light. In fact, my colleague AH said "You can kill someone here, but don't run a red light". I looked this up on line and it's true. There's a huge fine and jail time because of the potential that you could have caused an accident or a death, even if you didn't.
If you kill someone here you can pay the family blood money (what ever amount they think the life of the person you've killed was worth) and then you don't even have to go to jail. This is especially true in the case of women. Most killings here are kept out of the press unless the case is so high profile that the public has found out about it.
And, finally, this (http://www.thenational.ae/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090912/MAGAZINE/709119988):
Muslims are extra careful when dealing with fruits and vegetables mentioned in the holy Quran because we consider them very healthy and respect their holistic qualities. When eating a pomegranate we make sure to not drop any seed on the ground or forget it on the plate because one could be the seed that blesses us to go to heaven. The heavenly paradise of the Quran describes four gardens with shade, springs and fruits — including the pomegranate, which, legend has it, contains a seed that has come down from paradise.
First, it's almost impossible for a westerner to meet an emirati family. The women are kept more or less locked up. There is a separate entrance in every house for men and women. Even siblings are separated when they turn 13. Some emirati girls sneak out and try to have dates with boys. If they are caught (there are special police patrolling the corniche, a popular area that runs along the sea) they are arrested and put in jail. Most emiratis have arranged marriages, and the potential groom will normally send his sisters to the house of the girl he might be marrying, and they check her out for him. It's very expensive to get a divorce here, but if you are caught having an affair both people are killed (men usually by hanging, and women by stoning). And an emirati woman who marries a foreigner loses her emirati benefits (they get housing and health care), but the same does not happen to an emirati man if his spouse converts to islam and becomes a UAE citizen.
Second, playing chess is considered haram, or, forbidden. This is because some imams think it takes away from time that is supposed to be spent praying.
Third, it is an accepted thing that most pakistani men have, um, relationships with other men. Almost everyone I work with, except for the frog, are pakis, and they discuss this as if they are talking about the weather. I was pretty shocked to hear that homosexuality is rife in the pakistani community because it's illegal in UAE and punishable by jail or removal from the country. But the pakis were like whatever, what's the big deal? That conversation started because the frog told me that I shouldn't take taxis after 10 pm, and that if I did, not to get into a taxi driven by a paki because he might abduct me (one thinks this is wishful thinking on the part of the frog). The pakis jumped in and said "oh no, they only do that to boys".
Fourth, since everything is supposed to be bigger and better in the UAE, I get special attention because 1. I have the biggest hair (which currently looks like a 70s afro) and 2. I'm the tallest person in the office. One of the retired generals who now work in my space came over during this part of the conversation and asked me how tall I was (the height conversation started because I said I thought a taxi driver wouldn't abduct me because I'm too big) and then he said "you must be at least 6 feet tall". Figuring his grasp of english measurement was equivalent to my grasp of the metric system I said "no, I'm only 5'8"". A short silence ensued, and then the general said "You must be at least 6 feet tall, because I am 5'8" (he's 5'4")". Realizing what I had said embarrassed him I admitted that yes, I am 5'8". Now everyone is calling me "the amazon".
Fifth, when I was commenting on the fact that UAE was able to build a metro in less than two years, but at a huge cost, when they have not provided public transportation to anywhere else in the country, I was told "yeah, sheik [one of the sheiks in charge of UAE] had a temper tantrum because he wanted a train, so they built one". UAE is one of the few countries I've visited with no bus service between cities. If you want to go to a remote part of the country, your only option is to rent a car (which has it's own dangers as rentals here are renowned for being unreliable and breaking down in the middle of the desert). There is a bus that goes from Abu Dhabi to Dubai, but there's no station for it, it's always crowded, and there is no set schedule for it.
And, about the metro, it opened Wednesday. There is a gold class car that is supposed to be like business class on a plane (considering the entire metro line only takes 45 minutes to traverse, that seems a bit over the top). There were technical difficulties that caused huge delays because the emiratis riding the trains (which are computer controlled and have no driver) kept pushing the emergency button and stopping the trains. The paper yesterday had a huge article that people would be fined the equivalent of $200 for doing that.
Sixth, the worst thing you can do in UAE is run a red light. In fact, my colleague AH said "You can kill someone here, but don't run a red light". I looked this up on line and it's true. There's a huge fine and jail time because of the potential that you could have caused an accident or a death, even if you didn't.
If you kill someone here you can pay the family blood money (what ever amount they think the life of the person you've killed was worth) and then you don't even have to go to jail. This is especially true in the case of women. Most killings here are kept out of the press unless the case is so high profile that the public has found out about it.
And, finally, this (http://www.thenational.ae/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090912/MAGAZINE/709119988):
Muslims are extra careful when dealing with fruits and vegetables mentioned in the holy Quran because we consider them very healthy and respect their holistic qualities. When eating a pomegranate we make sure to not drop any seed on the ground or forget it on the plate because one could be the seed that blesses us to go to heaven. The heavenly paradise of the Quran describes four gardens with shade, springs and fruits — including the pomegranate, which, legend has it, contains a seed that has come down from paradise.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
the ramadan diet
Ramadan is over Sunday next week. I don't know if I'm going to make it to then without starving to death.
I don't mean to whine, but, as a westerner, it kind of sucks to be forced by law to follow the ramadan diet. In what feels like the billionth week I have lost so much weight that my stomach is actually concave. It's not that I don't want to cheat. It's that I can't. Places that sell food aren't open during fasting hours and I only have a tiny refrigerator (currently stuffed with dates) and a little kettle that makes hot water. So even if I could buy food during non-fasting hours I have no where to put it or make it.
For the muslims, it's not that bad. They have family spending the entire day cooking food for iftar. They stay up until the wee hours of the night eating. I have a narrow window to get food and then I have to eat it all in the 3 hours between the breaking of the fast and when I have to go to bed.
Yesterday, as an example, I had four packets of oatmeal and two cokes for breakfast. Then, 2 hours before the breaking of the fast, I found myself laying on my bed trying to not throw up because I was so hungry. Literally the minute the fast was up I was at the food court buying dinner and snacks. Over the course of 3 hours I ate an entire medium pizza, two garden salads, two rolls, two nectarines, 3 plums, 8 cookies, two oatmeal bars, half a bag of yogurt potato chips (and I don't even like potato chips) and before I went to bed, another packet of oatmeal because I was still hungry.
I would buy cookies and snacks to eat during the fast except you have to keep everything in the refrigerator or else it goes bad in a day. Even my oatmeal turns into these disgusting clumps and I have to break it up before I can fix it, and it doesn't taste quite right. Cookies will turn into a crumbly mush about 12 hours after the packet is opened. And I've found from past experience that I will eat an entire box of cookies waiting for the fast to end, causing me to have a stomach ache for the rest of the night. Part of the problem is the heat and humidity, and that's compounded by the fact that there's no air conditioning in my room unless I'm here. I've gone to work and come back 10 hours later only to find my grapes shriveled up like raisins in the short time I was gone.
Oh well. Just 8 more days. I can survive that...
I don't mean to whine, but, as a westerner, it kind of sucks to be forced by law to follow the ramadan diet. In what feels like the billionth week I have lost so much weight that my stomach is actually concave. It's not that I don't want to cheat. It's that I can't. Places that sell food aren't open during fasting hours and I only have a tiny refrigerator (currently stuffed with dates) and a little kettle that makes hot water. So even if I could buy food during non-fasting hours I have no where to put it or make it.
For the muslims, it's not that bad. They have family spending the entire day cooking food for iftar. They stay up until the wee hours of the night eating. I have a narrow window to get food and then I have to eat it all in the 3 hours between the breaking of the fast and when I have to go to bed.
Yesterday, as an example, I had four packets of oatmeal and two cokes for breakfast. Then, 2 hours before the breaking of the fast, I found myself laying on my bed trying to not throw up because I was so hungry. Literally the minute the fast was up I was at the food court buying dinner and snacks. Over the course of 3 hours I ate an entire medium pizza, two garden salads, two rolls, two nectarines, 3 plums, 8 cookies, two oatmeal bars, half a bag of yogurt potato chips (and I don't even like potato chips) and before I went to bed, another packet of oatmeal because I was still hungry.
I would buy cookies and snacks to eat during the fast except you have to keep everything in the refrigerator or else it goes bad in a day. Even my oatmeal turns into these disgusting clumps and I have to break it up before I can fix it, and it doesn't taste quite right. Cookies will turn into a crumbly mush about 12 hours after the packet is opened. And I've found from past experience that I will eat an entire box of cookies waiting for the fast to end, causing me to have a stomach ache for the rest of the night. Part of the problem is the heat and humidity, and that's compounded by the fact that there's no air conditioning in my room unless I'm here. I've gone to work and come back 10 hours later only to find my grapes shriveled up like raisins in the short time I was gone.
Oh well. Just 8 more days. I can survive that...
dates
I just got back from the fruit and vegetable market. AH took me so I could buy some dates. I've been kind of obsessed with them since I had them Thursday night.
It's kind of surprising how many different types of dates there are. That's why I enlisted AH to help me. We went to the stall of his date person (there are at least 50 date vendors in the market). He told me to sample some dates (I had to sneak into the back room to do this since I'm technically not supposed to be eating) and figure out which ones I wanted.
I had a local date, a date from Saudi, a just ripened date, a date that's supposed to be eaten when drinking coffee, and a date for people who aren't supposed to have a lot of sugar. There were also yellow dates, red dates, dates in various stages of becoming dehydrated (the less raisin-ish the date the less sugar it has), dates in a fancy package for giving to guests, light brown dates, dark brown dates, dates from Kuwait, dates from Turkey, dates for cooking, dates for dessert, dates covered in chocolate with the pit replaced with an almond, dates for drinking tea, dates for kids (small and super sweet), and dates "for the health" as it was explained to me. And that was only the first part of the stall.
I ended up getting a mix of dates, and the guy didn't charge me for them. He said since it was my first time to the market I was considered a guest, so it would be rude for me to give him money. He said next time I come I can pay.
Then AH drove me around the rest of the area. Back 10 years, Abu Dhabi had a souk right in the middle of the city. But, about 7 years ago, the government decided that was not the impression they wanted to give people of the city. So they moved the souk out to this area called the port (though, there was only one boat there). AH said it was hard for the vendors at first because people didn't know where the souk had gone and so not many people were showing up to buy stuff. But now it's crowded (though, more so at night than when we went).
Besides selling dates there are also fruits, vegetables, and a fresh fish stand. It's funny to watch the emiratis "shop". They pull up to a vendor's stall, stay in the air conditioning of the car, order what they want, and then the vendor stacks what ever has been purchased into the car. The emirati doesn't have to even turn off the engine. This is quite different from the souks I've been to in other parts of the world, where the streets are so narrow you can barely walk through them.
AH showed me the carpet souk (he said he would take me if I wanted to buy one), a place that sold baby stuff, the abaya shops, the shops for men's traditional dress, and what he called a nursery. The nursery looked to me like a few palm trees in the sand, but maybe they didn't have much due to the season.
I also found out some interesting things about the men's traditional dress. A head covering that's a turban is considered "young wear" and is worn, traditionally, by younger guys. Collars are kuwaiti style, saudis wear robes with buttons. In the summer everyone wears white, but in the winter men will wear different colored robes. A head covering with one rope hanging down the back is traditional emirati. Two robes is Saudi. The ropes are a nod to the old days, when they were used to tie a camel's legs together so it couldn't run away (or run far). The more detail of the robe (collars, cuffs, etc.) the more formal it is considered.
So now I have two packs of dates to eat and am a little wiser in understanding men's clothes, which will be helpful next time I have a meeting at the base...
It's kind of surprising how many different types of dates there are. That's why I enlisted AH to help me. We went to the stall of his date person (there are at least 50 date vendors in the market). He told me to sample some dates (I had to sneak into the back room to do this since I'm technically not supposed to be eating) and figure out which ones I wanted.
I had a local date, a date from Saudi, a just ripened date, a date that's supposed to be eaten when drinking coffee, and a date for people who aren't supposed to have a lot of sugar. There were also yellow dates, red dates, dates in various stages of becoming dehydrated (the less raisin-ish the date the less sugar it has), dates in a fancy package for giving to guests, light brown dates, dark brown dates, dates from Kuwait, dates from Turkey, dates for cooking, dates for dessert, dates covered in chocolate with the pit replaced with an almond, dates for drinking tea, dates for kids (small and super sweet), and dates "for the health" as it was explained to me. And that was only the first part of the stall.
I ended up getting a mix of dates, and the guy didn't charge me for them. He said since it was my first time to the market I was considered a guest, so it would be rude for me to give him money. He said next time I come I can pay.
Then AH drove me around the rest of the area. Back 10 years, Abu Dhabi had a souk right in the middle of the city. But, about 7 years ago, the government decided that was not the impression they wanted to give people of the city. So they moved the souk out to this area called the port (though, there was only one boat there). AH said it was hard for the vendors at first because people didn't know where the souk had gone and so not many people were showing up to buy stuff. But now it's crowded (though, more so at night than when we went).
Besides selling dates there are also fruits, vegetables, and a fresh fish stand. It's funny to watch the emiratis "shop". They pull up to a vendor's stall, stay in the air conditioning of the car, order what they want, and then the vendor stacks what ever has been purchased into the car. The emirati doesn't have to even turn off the engine. This is quite different from the souks I've been to in other parts of the world, where the streets are so narrow you can barely walk through them.
AH showed me the carpet souk (he said he would take me if I wanted to buy one), a place that sold baby stuff, the abaya shops, the shops for men's traditional dress, and what he called a nursery. The nursery looked to me like a few palm trees in the sand, but maybe they didn't have much due to the season.
I also found out some interesting things about the men's traditional dress. A head covering that's a turban is considered "young wear" and is worn, traditionally, by younger guys. Collars are kuwaiti style, saudis wear robes with buttons. In the summer everyone wears white, but in the winter men will wear different colored robes. A head covering with one rope hanging down the back is traditional emirati. Two robes is Saudi. The ropes are a nod to the old days, when they were used to tie a camel's legs together so it couldn't run away (or run far). The more detail of the robe (collars, cuffs, etc.) the more formal it is considered.
So now I have two packs of dates to eat and am a little wiser in understanding men's clothes, which will be helpful next time I have a meeting at the base...
Friday, September 11, 2009
a night out in Dubai
I had a meeting in Dubai yesterday with some customers from Pakistan. Because they flew in to see us, we took them out for iftar.
My colleague, AH, made reservations at the Palmyra restaurant in the Atlantis hotel. I was looking forward to the experience as I've never been to iftar before. I wasn't disappointed. However, our dinner almost got canceled because some idiot in my company started to worry the dinner could be seen as a bribe. We were like dude, they already bought stuff from us. And it's really, really rude to not take a customer out for dinner when they've flown to see you on their own dime. But, the lawyers at my company have to justify their existence I guess.
The restaurant is in a hotel owned by the Jumeirah group. They built the first 7 star hotel, the burj al arab, which is on the same property as the Palmyra. The iftar consisted of 6 food stations, sort of buffet style, with all kinds of middle eastern food. For drinks I had what was described to me as "rose juice" (roses squished into water...it was interesting) and "fruit juice" (juice of local emirate fruits, each country has their own special juice they serve at iftar and everyone is supposed to drink that juice to break their fast). One of my customers tried to talk me into drinking this purplish pink concoction (milk with roses in it) but luckily I'm allergic to milk.
I had the best hummus ever, a dish that consisted of pumpkin and chick peas all squished together like hummus but it was orange and tasted like pumpkin. Dr. T said I had to eat at least one unhealthy thing (a lot of food for iftar is fried) so I had this pastry with a sweetened cheese in it. I was a little worried about eating it because I brought it back to the table and everyone was like "ooh, what's that thing?" but it was good. I could go on and on about the food (we were there for almost 4 hours eating) but I will spare you. Except to mention that I also ate a bunch of dates, and I always thought I didn't like them, but they are actually quite good so I'm going to buy some next time I go food shopping.
Then AH and I left our customers (they were headed to the airport with Dr. T - in fact, they had so much fun at our iftar they almost missed their flight home) and he took me to the Burj Al Arab. It's funny, when that place first opened I told a bunch of people I worked with on TRAILBLAZER that I was going to go there some day. Finally made it...
We went to the Skyview Bar. AH goes there all the time and was able to get us a reservation on an hour's notice (impossible for the mere mortal). He then yelled at me for trying to order the house wine (there was a $75 per person cover just to get in) and had his waiter bring me some wines to sample (go me, I picked the most expensive one, $200 for one glass, Jeffy, see how you've spoiled me). We got the best table, with a view of the city, and they brought us snacks like these little cheese quiches, cucumbers and olives, and this sushi thing which was smoked salmon wrapped in tamago, with caviar on top.
A long conversation ensued on a number of topics. I found out AH's family is very famous in Pakistan (they are like the bin Laden's of Pakistan) and that's why he has so much pull in the UAE. We both love to talk about architecture frameworks so that was a couple hour conversation. Then we came up with this little side work project that, if we can pull it off, is going to be a huge deal in the middle east. My favorite story that AH told was about his crap work issued laptop (he uses a mac). He said that the only reason he still has his work laptop is that when his 1 year old son cries, if he puts him in front of the laptop, he'll start banging the keys and forget about crying. Well, the story is funny if you could see him acting that out, and if you knew what our work laptops were like (pieces just randomly fall off of mine, and in the past 6 months I've replaced the keyboard, memory, and the mouse, which I actually had to replace twice).
Finally AH's wife called and said she was heading back home from her mom's, so we headed home as well. We got this poor cab driver who was not happy about taking us to Abu Dhabi (it's an almost 2 hour trip, and it was in the wee hours of the morning by this point in the story). AH asked him if it was his last trip of the shift and the cabbie said yes. We were like uh oh. The cabbie fell asleep 3 times that I saw, and then we almost ran out of gas.
The cabbie of course waited until we were in desperate straits to look for a gas station. Here's a description of the road between Dubai and Abu Dhabi: sand, construction, more sand, unfinished overpasses, sand, more sand, some road work, construction. We took this little, I wouldn't even call it an exit as much as a random turn-off that just happened to connect to the highway. We drove around this weird installation that had all these armed guards. I was getting a little worried. Then we finally found a gas station and the cabbie's credit card didn't work. I was exhausted and hot by then (running around in a suit and real shoes, the first time I've not worn flip flops since arriving here) so I was like just give him some money for the gas. But AH said we shouldn't, and miraculously, after about 10 minutes of arguing, the cabbie's card started working again.
As we pulled into Abu Dhabi we were almost in a major accident because the cabbie was speeding like crazy and the police, for what ever idiot reason, decided to set up a blockade around a blind corner to make sure everyone had on their seat belt. Our cabbie didn't, but the cops didn't notice, probably because we almost hit them swerving to avoid hitting the stopped cars in front of us. I think AH was saying some really bad words in Urdu, but every word in Urdu kind of sounds like a bad word to me.
The best part of the story is Dr. T called us when we got into the cab and said the pakis want both of us to work on their project in Islamabad. I was worried they wouldn't like me because I'm american and a woman, but they were incredibly nice. In fact, one of the guys, who is a general in the paki army, told me "you should come to Islamabad because it's not as dangerous as everyone says". I suppose, being under the protection of a general, that's probably true.
Then he said "We are a civilized society. You will not see our women covered up." That was an insult to all the emiratis in the room, since here all the local women must wear a burqa that even covers their face (though some don't cover their eyes). This area of the world never fails to confuse and amuse me. The stereotypes of most people in the middle east are totally true, but then not true at all.
My colleague, AH, made reservations at the Palmyra restaurant in the Atlantis hotel. I was looking forward to the experience as I've never been to iftar before. I wasn't disappointed. However, our dinner almost got canceled because some idiot in my company started to worry the dinner could be seen as a bribe. We were like dude, they already bought stuff from us. And it's really, really rude to not take a customer out for dinner when they've flown to see you on their own dime. But, the lawyers at my company have to justify their existence I guess.
The restaurant is in a hotel owned by the Jumeirah group. They built the first 7 star hotel, the burj al arab, which is on the same property as the Palmyra. The iftar consisted of 6 food stations, sort of buffet style, with all kinds of middle eastern food. For drinks I had what was described to me as "rose juice" (roses squished into water...it was interesting) and "fruit juice" (juice of local emirate fruits, each country has their own special juice they serve at iftar and everyone is supposed to drink that juice to break their fast). One of my customers tried to talk me into drinking this purplish pink concoction (milk with roses in it) but luckily I'm allergic to milk.
I had the best hummus ever, a dish that consisted of pumpkin and chick peas all squished together like hummus but it was orange and tasted like pumpkin. Dr. T said I had to eat at least one unhealthy thing (a lot of food for iftar is fried) so I had this pastry with a sweetened cheese in it. I was a little worried about eating it because I brought it back to the table and everyone was like "ooh, what's that thing?" but it was good. I could go on and on about the food (we were there for almost 4 hours eating) but I will spare you. Except to mention that I also ate a bunch of dates, and I always thought I didn't like them, but they are actually quite good so I'm going to buy some next time I go food shopping.
Then AH and I left our customers (they were headed to the airport with Dr. T - in fact, they had so much fun at our iftar they almost missed their flight home) and he took me to the Burj Al Arab. It's funny, when that place first opened I told a bunch of people I worked with on TRAILBLAZER that I was going to go there some day. Finally made it...
We went to the Skyview Bar. AH goes there all the time and was able to get us a reservation on an hour's notice (impossible for the mere mortal). He then yelled at me for trying to order the house wine (there was a $75 per person cover just to get in) and had his waiter bring me some wines to sample (go me, I picked the most expensive one, $200 for one glass, Jeffy, see how you've spoiled me). We got the best table, with a view of the city, and they brought us snacks like these little cheese quiches, cucumbers and olives, and this sushi thing which was smoked salmon wrapped in tamago, with caviar on top.
A long conversation ensued on a number of topics. I found out AH's family is very famous in Pakistan (they are like the bin Laden's of Pakistan) and that's why he has so much pull in the UAE. We both love to talk about architecture frameworks so that was a couple hour conversation. Then we came up with this little side work project that, if we can pull it off, is going to be a huge deal in the middle east. My favorite story that AH told was about his crap work issued laptop (he uses a mac). He said that the only reason he still has his work laptop is that when his 1 year old son cries, if he puts him in front of the laptop, he'll start banging the keys and forget about crying. Well, the story is funny if you could see him acting that out, and if you knew what our work laptops were like (pieces just randomly fall off of mine, and in the past 6 months I've replaced the keyboard, memory, and the mouse, which I actually had to replace twice).
Finally AH's wife called and said she was heading back home from her mom's, so we headed home as well. We got this poor cab driver who was not happy about taking us to Abu Dhabi (it's an almost 2 hour trip, and it was in the wee hours of the morning by this point in the story). AH asked him if it was his last trip of the shift and the cabbie said yes. We were like uh oh. The cabbie fell asleep 3 times that I saw, and then we almost ran out of gas.
The cabbie of course waited until we were in desperate straits to look for a gas station. Here's a description of the road between Dubai and Abu Dhabi: sand, construction, more sand, unfinished overpasses, sand, more sand, some road work, construction. We took this little, I wouldn't even call it an exit as much as a random turn-off that just happened to connect to the highway. We drove around this weird installation that had all these armed guards. I was getting a little worried. Then we finally found a gas station and the cabbie's credit card didn't work. I was exhausted and hot by then (running around in a suit and real shoes, the first time I've not worn flip flops since arriving here) so I was like just give him some money for the gas. But AH said we shouldn't, and miraculously, after about 10 minutes of arguing, the cabbie's card started working again.
As we pulled into Abu Dhabi we were almost in a major accident because the cabbie was speeding like crazy and the police, for what ever idiot reason, decided to set up a blockade around a blind corner to make sure everyone had on their seat belt. Our cabbie didn't, but the cops didn't notice, probably because we almost hit them swerving to avoid hitting the stopped cars in front of us. I think AH was saying some really bad words in Urdu, but every word in Urdu kind of sounds like a bad word to me.
The best part of the story is Dr. T called us when we got into the cab and said the pakis want both of us to work on their project in Islamabad. I was worried they wouldn't like me because I'm american and a woman, but they were incredibly nice. In fact, one of the guys, who is a general in the paki army, told me "you should come to Islamabad because it's not as dangerous as everyone says". I suppose, being under the protection of a general, that's probably true.
Then he said "We are a civilized society. You will not see our women covered up." That was an insult to all the emiratis in the room, since here all the local women must wear a burqa that even covers their face (though some don't cover their eyes). This area of the world never fails to confuse and amuse me. The stereotypes of most people in the middle east are totally true, but then not true at all.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
timing is everything, and nothing
Today I had a meeting with the new base commander to brief him on some potential new projects. I wore pants today instead of making him look at my knees again. I got to the briefing room 30 minutes before I had to start to make sure the room was set up and the AV was working. My colleague N did everything because I think he was afraid I would screw something up.
Then, right before the briefing was supposed to start, these cleaners came in and started cleaning everything. I was like WTF? I guess the commander wanted everything spit shined before showing up. The program manager and Dr. T showed up 15 minutes late. I was in a panic by then, but they were like "the customer is always late so we didn't rush". I was told that you usually have to wait for 2 hours after the scheduled meeting to have a meeting. Sometimes you have to wait all day, and then the customer decides not to see you after all. I told Dr. T I had read in my customs and etiquette book that it is considered very impolite to show up late for anything, and he said "Yes, it's impolite for YOU to show up late."
Meanwhile, we had a moment of panic because the cleaning people had dis-engaged one of the wires going to the computer, and we couldn't get the presentation up. We ended up crawling around in a rat's nest of wires until N found the one that was disconnected. The general finally showed up only an hour late (I was told that was "a good sign"). He made a joke that "Obviously arabs could not have been behind 911. We are late for everything and would have missed our flights." I can see his point even after living here for less than one month.
The presentation went well, and we'll see what happens next. In the mean time, hopefully my company is working on my residence visa, and I'm going to renew my tourist visa for another 30 days so I don't have to take vacation during Eid. Eid is like Christmas, except it lasts 5 days, and only little kids are supposed to get gifts. There is a second Eid later this year, but that's more of a feast than a gift giving thing.
The Christmas Eid happens at the end of ramadan, and the dates are not known until the imams all agree they've seen the new moon. It's kind of weird. Everybody is on a different schedule for all these religious things. For example, Dubai breaks their evening fast 4 minutes sooner than Abu Dhabi. In Pakistan, they start ramadan two days later than everyone else (to start ramadan, as with the ending, all the imams have to agree they've seen the new moon - apparently pakistan always "sees" the new moon later than everyone else - when I ask a pakistani why that was, he said "it's because they are fools").
So, basically there's a 5 day holiday, but you can't really schedule travel, because the day the holiday starts might change if no one can see the new moon, like if it's cloudy. As some people at work explained this to me I was like dudes, they have lunar calendars that will tell you when the new moon is - why exactly do you have to see it? They looked at me as if I had suggested we sing the dreidl song. I was also told that anyway, Eid is the worst time to travel (imagine christmas and thanksgiving in the US happening at the same time) because muslims are supposed to spend the time with their family. In fact, any family.
One of the other consultants was telling me he is going to Pakistan for Eid to celebrate with distant relatives he's never even met before because his immediate family is in UK and he just got back from visiting them and doesn’t want to fly there again with his young son. When I asked why he didn’t just stay here and celebrate with just his wife and son he said “You can’t do that. That’s not the way Eid works for real muslims. Only muslims that are not serious would do such a thing.”
And, in the car on the way home, I mentioned to N that I was surprised the commander told that 911 joke. He started in on a tirade about how Osama bin Laden is not a real person, that there is no proof he ever existed, and that the US government made him up to make muslims into "bad guys". I decided to just keep my mouth shut because I was too tired to have a debate.
I may get the hang of this culture eventually, but I doubt it.
Then, right before the briefing was supposed to start, these cleaners came in and started cleaning everything. I was like WTF? I guess the commander wanted everything spit shined before showing up. The program manager and Dr. T showed up 15 minutes late. I was in a panic by then, but they were like "the customer is always late so we didn't rush". I was told that you usually have to wait for 2 hours after the scheduled meeting to have a meeting. Sometimes you have to wait all day, and then the customer decides not to see you after all. I told Dr. T I had read in my customs and etiquette book that it is considered very impolite to show up late for anything, and he said "Yes, it's impolite for YOU to show up late."
Meanwhile, we had a moment of panic because the cleaning people had dis-engaged one of the wires going to the computer, and we couldn't get the presentation up. We ended up crawling around in a rat's nest of wires until N found the one that was disconnected. The general finally showed up only an hour late (I was told that was "a good sign"). He made a joke that "Obviously arabs could not have been behind 911. We are late for everything and would have missed our flights." I can see his point even after living here for less than one month.
The presentation went well, and we'll see what happens next. In the mean time, hopefully my company is working on my residence visa, and I'm going to renew my tourist visa for another 30 days so I don't have to take vacation during Eid. Eid is like Christmas, except it lasts 5 days, and only little kids are supposed to get gifts. There is a second Eid later this year, but that's more of a feast than a gift giving thing.
The Christmas Eid happens at the end of ramadan, and the dates are not known until the imams all agree they've seen the new moon. It's kind of weird. Everybody is on a different schedule for all these religious things. For example, Dubai breaks their evening fast 4 minutes sooner than Abu Dhabi. In Pakistan, they start ramadan two days later than everyone else (to start ramadan, as with the ending, all the imams have to agree they've seen the new moon - apparently pakistan always "sees" the new moon later than everyone else - when I ask a pakistani why that was, he said "it's because they are fools").
So, basically there's a 5 day holiday, but you can't really schedule travel, because the day the holiday starts might change if no one can see the new moon, like if it's cloudy. As some people at work explained this to me I was like dudes, they have lunar calendars that will tell you when the new moon is - why exactly do you have to see it? They looked at me as if I had suggested we sing the dreidl song. I was also told that anyway, Eid is the worst time to travel (imagine christmas and thanksgiving in the US happening at the same time) because muslims are supposed to spend the time with their family. In fact, any family.
One of the other consultants was telling me he is going to Pakistan for Eid to celebrate with distant relatives he's never even met before because his immediate family is in UK and he just got back from visiting them and doesn’t want to fly there again with his young son. When I asked why he didn’t just stay here and celebrate with just his wife and son he said “You can’t do that. That’s not the way Eid works for real muslims. Only muslims that are not serious would do such a thing.”
And, in the car on the way home, I mentioned to N that I was surprised the commander told that 911 joke. He started in on a tirade about how Osama bin Laden is not a real person, that there is no proof he ever existed, and that the US government made him up to make muslims into "bad guys". I decided to just keep my mouth shut because I was too tired to have a debate.
I may get the hang of this culture eventually, but I doubt it.
Monday, September 7, 2009
pandemic paranoia
Everyone in the UAE is totally paranoid about getting swine flu. Since the epidemic began 4 people have died (none of them emirates, all of them visitors from somewhere else). When you get to the airport they check you out to make sure you aren't sick. One would think that check would be good enough for my company.
But, if you thought that, you would be wrong. A consultant in the Dubai office, who sometimes comes here, just got back from a business trip to South Africa. Because he was traveling for my company, they knew he had been there. Apparently SA is on the list of countries that have a swine flu problem, at least according to my company's HR department.
The consultant went into the office in the morning, was there until early afternoon, when someone in HR spotted him and told him he had to leave the office immediately. Further, he was told not to come back until he had a letter from a hospital saying he didn't have swine flu.
So this poor, poor consultant went to 3 hospitals and 4 clinics, but no one would give him a letter. The reason is that they can't confirm someone has swine flu until they develop symptoms. So, unless he gets sick, and proves he has swine flu, there is no way to tell he doesn't have swine flu (Joseph Heller is laughing in the ether).
Meanwhile, most of us consultants in Abu Dhabi are having visa problems that no one in HR is responding to. It's gotten so bad (people's visas getting cancelled) that we have a big meeting tomorrow about it, since HR is incapable of doing something less intrusive on the work day, like responding to an email.
Of course, I'll be late for the meeting since I'm briefing a colonel tomorrow on some projects we are going to do for him. At least I'll get something useful done tomorrow...
But, if you thought that, you would be wrong. A consultant in the Dubai office, who sometimes comes here, just got back from a business trip to South Africa. Because he was traveling for my company, they knew he had been there. Apparently SA is on the list of countries that have a swine flu problem, at least according to my company's HR department.
The consultant went into the office in the morning, was there until early afternoon, when someone in HR spotted him and told him he had to leave the office immediately. Further, he was told not to come back until he had a letter from a hospital saying he didn't have swine flu.
So this poor, poor consultant went to 3 hospitals and 4 clinics, but no one would give him a letter. The reason is that they can't confirm someone has swine flu until they develop symptoms. So, unless he gets sick, and proves he has swine flu, there is no way to tell he doesn't have swine flu (Joseph Heller is laughing in the ether).
Meanwhile, most of us consultants in Abu Dhabi are having visa problems that no one in HR is responding to. It's gotten so bad (people's visas getting cancelled) that we have a big meeting tomorrow about it, since HR is incapable of doing something less intrusive on the work day, like responding to an email.
Of course, I'll be late for the meeting since I'm briefing a colonel tomorrow on some projects we are going to do for him. At least I'll get something useful done tomorrow...
Sunday, September 6, 2009
my favorite feline
I was walking through the parking lot that separates the hotel from the co-op, where I had just picked up my laundry, when I ran into my favorite feline, Lancelot.
I've never seen him not on the hotel roof so I was surprised. I asked him what he was doing and he just meowed at me. I think he followed me, but I'm not sure. I didn't feed him yesterday because he didn't show up on time (left some cheese for him but even though it was gone this morning that doesn't mean he's the one who ate it).
While we were standing on the sidewalk another cat came up and Lance boxed him on the ears. I told Lance I was disappointed in him, and he gave me a look like he was really sorry and not just pretending to be sorry like some cats who fake apologize and then do more bad things.
I went and got him a tuna sandwich from Subway (he likes them, although I'm not sure they are healthy for him, because I think cats are not supposed to eat bread, but I also get him olives and green peppers so that might make up for the bread, because I'm pretty sure cats are supposed to eat vegetables). Anyway, when I got back to the parking lot I started to unwrap his sandwich and he jumped up on a car and batted me with his paw. Then he let me pet him for the first time ever. Usually he insists I put his food under this air conditioning unit on the roof with only a foot of space under it (he's smart enough to know I can't get under it), and then he drags the food off and eats it. This weekend he let me get within an arm's distance of him but then he cried so much I didn't try to force him to let me pet him.
So, even though things are a little stressful at work right now, the day has ended on a very good note because Lance let me pet him. I might get him some proper cat food tomorrow, but I don't know if he'll eat it.
I've never seen him not on the hotel roof so I was surprised. I asked him what he was doing and he just meowed at me. I think he followed me, but I'm not sure. I didn't feed him yesterday because he didn't show up on time (left some cheese for him but even though it was gone this morning that doesn't mean he's the one who ate it).While we were standing on the sidewalk another cat came up and Lance boxed him on the ears. I told Lance I was disappointed in him, and he gave me a look like he was really sorry and not just pretending to be sorry like some cats who fake apologize and then do more bad things.
I went and got him a tuna sandwich from Subway (he likes them, although I'm not sure they are healthy for him, because I think cats are not supposed to eat bread, but I also get him olives and green peppers so that might make up for the bread, because I'm pretty sure cats are supposed to eat vegetables). Anyway, when I got back to the parking lot I started to unwrap his sandwich and he jumped up on a car and batted me with his paw. Then he let me pet him for the first time ever. Usually he insists I put his food under this air conditioning unit on the roof with only a foot of space under it (he's smart enough to know I can't get under it), and then he drags the food off and eats it. This weekend he let me get within an arm's distance of him but then he cried so much I didn't try to force him to let me pet him.
So, even though things are a little stressful at work right now, the day has ended on a very good note because Lance let me pet him. I might get him some proper cat food tomorrow, but I don't know if he'll eat it.
ramadan traffic
Lest you think I've exaggerated about the traffic, here are some statistics:
Between Dubai and Abu Dhabi (population around 1 million) 20,000 speeding tickets were issued the first 10 days of ramadan.
There were approximately 600 traffic accidents the first 10 days of ramadan in Abu Dhabi.
3,000 people were ticketed for not wearing seat belts. The whole seat belt thing is a big deal here. No one wears them, and the old taxis don't even have them. But statistics have shown people in the back seat get injured just as badly as those in the front if not wearing their seat belts. There are posters all over Abu Dhabi of nascar drivers urging people to wear their seat belts.
Probably the most horrifying thing I've seen in traffic is a children's school bus, on a service road that runs parallel to the highway, cross over the median (which was not a small median, but more like a big concrete curb, with 5 feet of grass, and then another curb down to the highway), and pull right into highway traffic going about 50 miles slower than everyone else. The incident is worse than you might be thinking because most of the buses here have folding chairs that are not bolted to the floor. There is a big effort underway to fix this problem (I mean seriously, they build islands for no reason, but can't provide school buses that are safe for children?) but the effort won't be completed until 2012.
The good thing is the weather has been slowing cooling down. It's only 100 degrees outside right now. Did I just say that?
Between Dubai and Abu Dhabi (population around 1 million) 20,000 speeding tickets were issued the first 10 days of ramadan.
There were approximately 600 traffic accidents the first 10 days of ramadan in Abu Dhabi.
3,000 people were ticketed for not wearing seat belts. The whole seat belt thing is a big deal here. No one wears them, and the old taxis don't even have them. But statistics have shown people in the back seat get injured just as badly as those in the front if not wearing their seat belts. There are posters all over Abu Dhabi of nascar drivers urging people to wear their seat belts.
Probably the most horrifying thing I've seen in traffic is a children's school bus, on a service road that runs parallel to the highway, cross over the median (which was not a small median, but more like a big concrete curb, with 5 feet of grass, and then another curb down to the highway), and pull right into highway traffic going about 50 miles slower than everyone else. The incident is worse than you might be thinking because most of the buses here have folding chairs that are not bolted to the floor. There is a big effort underway to fix this problem (I mean seriously, they build islands for no reason, but can't provide school buses that are safe for children?) but the effort won't be completed until 2012.
The good thing is the weather has been slowing cooling down. It's only 100 degrees outside right now. Did I just say that?
conspiracy theories
While sitting in the worst ramadan traffic with my colleague N, we started talking about how John Ashcroft can be sued for wrongful detention. It's been all over the news here. We started talking about 911. N had some interesting theories, most of which seem to be shared by people who live here in the emirates. His theories, in the order that he thinks most likely are:
There were no hijackers. Israelis took remote control of the planes, and crashed them. When I asked him how this could possibly be, he said "it's been proven they have the technology". I asked where he heard that it's been proven, he just kept repeating "it's been proven". He also said that one of the hijacker's passports was found on the ground in NYC. I had never heard that, but would like to investigate it further, as it sounds like total BS to me.
Second theory, is that the Israelis planned 911. N repeated the insane rumor that no jewish people were killed 911, and that they were all told not to come to work. I pointed out to him that I had a friend who was jewish who was killed in the second tower. N looked at me, and with no hesitation at all, said "Maybe no one told him. Do you know any other jews that were killed?"
Third theory is that the US government planned the attacks. While the US government was more than incompetent at preventing the attacks even though they had plenty of evidence (and had an asset that tried to warn them THE DAY BEFORE that something was going to happen at the WTC) I said I couldn't possibly believe that what he was saying was true. But many people here believe it is true, and that it was done so the US could invade Iraq and Afghanistan.
I am amazed that someone who was born in the US (though not raised there), with a college degree, could believe these things. I also am curious to find out why the UAE hates jewish people. Israelis are not allowed in this country, and until a few years ago, if you had a stamp in your passport from Israel they wouldn't let you in.
Regarding the US's culpability in the attacks, it doesn't help matters much that news stories have been breaking here about the poor conditions in the Iraqi prisons (prisoners beaten, tortured, and then let go with no charges being brought against them) which in the media at least are being reported as worse than those under Saddam Hussein. It isn't that people here are outwardly prejudice against americans (like in Athens, when I was there) but there is definitely a mistrust.
And the french apparently hate us too. N told me that a french guy has been saying bad things about me on the base (something about my "loose morals" which is insane for reasons not even worth going into here), and I said "why would he say things like that about me, when he doesn't even know me?" and N replied "because all french hate americans".
I brought up the fact that it was ramadan and it didn't seem like any of the things we had talked about were indicative of charity and being better people. N concluded the discussion by saying no real muslim believes in jihad unless they are first attacked, and that committing suicide, especially as a suicide bomber, is totally against muslim beliefs and is stated as such in the koran. I did know that, but mention it here for those who didn't.
Anyone interested in reading the news here can check out www.thenational.ae. The articles about ramadan are pretty funny (e.g. if food or drink touches your throat during the ramadan fast you have to either feed 60 people, do 60 hours community service, or donate money for 60 poor people). An interesting blog I found about jihad is www.jihadica.com.
There were no hijackers. Israelis took remote control of the planes, and crashed them. When I asked him how this could possibly be, he said "it's been proven they have the technology". I asked where he heard that it's been proven, he just kept repeating "it's been proven". He also said that one of the hijacker's passports was found on the ground in NYC. I had never heard that, but would like to investigate it further, as it sounds like total BS to me.
Second theory, is that the Israelis planned 911. N repeated the insane rumor that no jewish people were killed 911, and that they were all told not to come to work. I pointed out to him that I had a friend who was jewish who was killed in the second tower. N looked at me, and with no hesitation at all, said "Maybe no one told him. Do you know any other jews that were killed?"
Third theory is that the US government planned the attacks. While the US government was more than incompetent at preventing the attacks even though they had plenty of evidence (and had an asset that tried to warn them THE DAY BEFORE that something was going to happen at the WTC) I said I couldn't possibly believe that what he was saying was true. But many people here believe it is true, and that it was done so the US could invade Iraq and Afghanistan.
I am amazed that someone who was born in the US (though not raised there), with a college degree, could believe these things. I also am curious to find out why the UAE hates jewish people. Israelis are not allowed in this country, and until a few years ago, if you had a stamp in your passport from Israel they wouldn't let you in.
Regarding the US's culpability in the attacks, it doesn't help matters much that news stories have been breaking here about the poor conditions in the Iraqi prisons (prisoners beaten, tortured, and then let go with no charges being brought against them) which in the media at least are being reported as worse than those under Saddam Hussein. It isn't that people here are outwardly prejudice against americans (like in Athens, when I was there) but there is definitely a mistrust.
And the french apparently hate us too. N told me that a french guy has been saying bad things about me on the base (something about my "loose morals" which is insane for reasons not even worth going into here), and I said "why would he say things like that about me, when he doesn't even know me?" and N replied "because all french hate americans".
I brought up the fact that it was ramadan and it didn't seem like any of the things we had talked about were indicative of charity and being better people. N concluded the discussion by saying no real muslim believes in jihad unless they are first attacked, and that committing suicide, especially as a suicide bomber, is totally against muslim beliefs and is stated as such in the koran. I did know that, but mention it here for those who didn't.
Anyone interested in reading the news here can check out www.thenational.ae. The articles about ramadan are pretty funny (e.g. if food or drink touches your throat during the ramadan fast you have to either feed 60 people, do 60 hours community service, or donate money for 60 poor people). An interesting blog I found about jihad is www.jihadica.com.
Friday, September 4, 2009
240 volts, that's pretty dangerous, right?
I was using a le meridien power converter, and it stopped working last night. I can't possibly be without my laptop for more than a few hours, and, rather than bother the nice people downstairs who will probably charge me for breaking their converter, I decided to buy another one (I actually need it for work). So I went to the co-op, since it's the only thing open during ramadan hours, and bought the only converter they have. It SAID on the package "works with US". It SAID "universal converter". I bet you know where this story is going.
I got back to my room, plugged in the converter, and sparks and smoke came out of the plug. I'm not sure if I got shocked or just burned from the sparks, but what ever happened, it hurt like hell and my finger has a blister on it. Huh, that's weird, I thought. I decided to try it in another plug, being careful this time to keep my fingers away from the plug by pushing the converter in with the eraser of my le meridien pencil. Same thing happened.
But, I had noticed at that point that all the power was out on that side of the room. Thinking, for who knows what reason, that another experiment was in order, since the power was out the second time I plugged in the converter, I checked a plug on the other side of the room, made sure it was working, and...this is embarrassing to admit...plugged the converter in again. Guess what happened.
So, now I was in my room with no electricity, a burnt finger, and a dead laptop battery. "F this!" I thought to myself, I'm going to the gym. Anyway, I couldn't call the front desk to report the problem because the power was out. As I was leaving my room I noticed a bunch of people gathering in the lobby on my floor, looking at me with disdain as I walked by in my running outfit (not showing knees, but showing shoulders, which are almost as bad as knees) carrying a bottle of water (big no no during fasting hours). What the hell are they doing up here? I wondered. Then I saw the signs and realized the hotel had set up a prayer room two doors down from my room. Honestly, had I known that, I would have waited until call to prayer started before leaving my room dressed in my workout clothes. Oh well.
I did my workout and then stopped by the front desk to tell them my power wasn't working. The bellhop, an annoying guy who has worked there for like a million years and who never calls a taxi for me in the morning, told me it was because I hadn't put my key in the power slot. I was like noooo, that's NOT the problem, and explained about the converter. Suddenly the woman at the front desk's eyes went huge, and she made a hurried phone call. I went to my room.
A few minutes later the power came on. A paki knocked on my door to make sure everything was okay, and I told him what happened, showed him the converter, and told him "you plug it in and see what happens". Of course, it was fine. He told me "Do not buy these local goods, they are very, very bad. And so cheap." Everyone around here is such a snob. There will never be a wal-mart in UAE. I thanked him and gave him a tip, and, as he was walking out the door he said "By the way, do not plug in cheap converters before call to prayer, because you make the electricity go out in the prayer room, and no one knows what is wrong, since you don't tell us what you did".
Oops :D
I apologized profusely, and, I swear I'm not making this up, he said "do not worry, it did not matter - it was only the women's prayer room".
Ech. Sorry sisters!
I got back to my room, plugged in the converter, and sparks and smoke came out of the plug. I'm not sure if I got shocked or just burned from the sparks, but what ever happened, it hurt like hell and my finger has a blister on it. Huh, that's weird, I thought. I decided to try it in another plug, being careful this time to keep my fingers away from the plug by pushing the converter in with the eraser of my le meridien pencil. Same thing happened.
But, I had noticed at that point that all the power was out on that side of the room. Thinking, for who knows what reason, that another experiment was in order, since the power was out the second time I plugged in the converter, I checked a plug on the other side of the room, made sure it was working, and...this is embarrassing to admit...plugged the converter in again. Guess what happened.
So, now I was in my room with no electricity, a burnt finger, and a dead laptop battery. "F this!" I thought to myself, I'm going to the gym. Anyway, I couldn't call the front desk to report the problem because the power was out. As I was leaving my room I noticed a bunch of people gathering in the lobby on my floor, looking at me with disdain as I walked by in my running outfit (not showing knees, but showing shoulders, which are almost as bad as knees) carrying a bottle of water (big no no during fasting hours). What the hell are they doing up here? I wondered. Then I saw the signs and realized the hotel had set up a prayer room two doors down from my room. Honestly, had I known that, I would have waited until call to prayer started before leaving my room dressed in my workout clothes. Oh well.
I did my workout and then stopped by the front desk to tell them my power wasn't working. The bellhop, an annoying guy who has worked there for like a million years and who never calls a taxi for me in the morning, told me it was because I hadn't put my key in the power slot. I was like noooo, that's NOT the problem, and explained about the converter. Suddenly the woman at the front desk's eyes went huge, and she made a hurried phone call. I went to my room.
A few minutes later the power came on. A paki knocked on my door to make sure everything was okay, and I told him what happened, showed him the converter, and told him "you plug it in and see what happens". Of course, it was fine. He told me "Do not buy these local goods, they are very, very bad. And so cheap." Everyone around here is such a snob. There will never be a wal-mart in UAE. I thanked him and gave him a tip, and, as he was walking out the door he said "By the way, do not plug in cheap converters before call to prayer, because you make the electricity go out in the prayer room, and no one knows what is wrong, since you don't tell us what you did".
Oops :D
I apologized profusely, and, I swear I'm not making this up, he said "do not worry, it did not matter - it was only the women's prayer room".
Ech. Sorry sisters!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
socks, smoking
Some people have been requesting pictures. So, here are some pictures.
These are my socks, which I just picked up from the laundry but someone else did it place, whatever you call it. Yes, the name of the place is Jeeves. Anyway, my socks were, I swear I'm not making this up, ironed, and then put in this lovely bag with a piece of tissue paper between them. It seems excessive.
These are my socks, which I just picked up from the laundry but someone else did it place, whatever you call it. Yes, the name of the place is Jeeves. Anyway, my socks were, I swear I'm not making this up, ironed, and then put in this lovely bag with a piece of tissue paper between them. It seems excessive. Laundry was so much fun to drop off here. They had no idea how to classify my western clothes so they put things like "sports abaya" for my dress I wear over my bathing suit. They called my yoga pants "pantaloons". They ironed everything, even my sports bra, which they put in a plastic bag, with a hangar, but the bag was opaque so no one could see my sports bra.
This is the balcony outside my hotel room. Or should I say "balcony" since, after you walk down that little step, it's the roof of the hotel. I feed all of my new pets here. I have a cat who looks like an orange tabby left out in the sun too long, named Lancelot (he likes fish tikka but not fish with lime, and he really likes fish and chips but they are way too disgusting - I ordered them, took a bite, and fed the rest of them to Lance - now he whines all the time when I try to get him to eat more healthy). Then I have 5 birds. The birds showed up when one night I had a temper tantrum because the coconut cookies I bought were actually saltines with coconut sprinkles, and I threw the cookies out on my balcony after stomping on the package twice. Now I feed the birds grapes, rolls, pizza crust, and these milk biscuits that I bought, opened, and then forgot to eat for two days. Anything left out for more than a day here gets stale and then it hardens up. Gross. This is also where I smoke, since it's Ramadan, and you get arrested for smoking in public. Hm, it just occurred to me...Lancelot showed up after the birds showed up...I hope he's not going to eat them.
This is my little hidey hole that the guy in the garage made for me (the pic is crap because I took it with my crackberry, but you get the idea). You can see the cardboard boxes stacked at the end there. I go here to smoke. I know, it's pretty gross. That's the garage guy's car duster. It's funny to see him walking around with it. It's almost as big as he is. Oh well, Ramadan will be over in a few weeks, and everything can get back to normal...
bunker
Today I had a meeting with the new base colonel and I did something really bad. A dress seemed in order for the occasion, so I put on my new grey dress (Joe, that was one of my new dresses I showed you), with my sandals. The dress is a business dress, would pass for uber modest in most countries, and it's grey i.e. boring.
One thing I did NOT check with said dress was what would happen if I sat down in it. I got into Dr. T's car this am to head to the base and realized that, when sitting down, the hem of my dress, which is below my knees when standing, does not cover my knees when sitting.
Women get fined here for showing their knees in public. It's considered very bad form.
My stomach started hurting and I wanted to jump out of the car but Dr. T, who realized my problem, found it amusing.
We got to the colonel's office and it was weird. He had put two chairs sideways against his desk for Dr. T and the program manager to sit in. Then he directed myself and Ireland to this other area of his office (which was quite big) where there was a sofa, two modern leather chairs, and a coffee table. It looked like the set of a talk show. Dr. T said "Franki, why don't you sit right there?" pointing at a place on the sofa directly in the line of sight of the colonel. I sat down, and immediately the colonel started staring at my knees. I couldn't tell if he was horrified or intrigued. Anyway, the meeting went poorly, I thought, because the colonel didn't say much but Dr. T thought it went just fine.
Then I went into my office and found that it has been invaded by scottish guys. Very strange. They were all sitting around arguing and reading the paper, and I had to try really hard to not laugh because they all sound like that character Bubbles on Ab Fab. The noise of their arguments was only slightly less annoying than the fighter planes right outside my window (the runway is seriously like 200 yards from the bunker where we work) that seemed to be taking off every 10 minutes. I don't mind the C-130s because they just make noise. The fighter planes shake stuff around and make this horrible screechy metal sound.
There are female fighter pilots in UAE, by the way. How cool is that? There was one that used to work in my area but she got promoted and moved. Then she crashed her plane on accident last week but ejected in time. I'm sure it was the other driver's fault.
Tomorrow I tour an "apartment" in Le Meridien to move into when my reservation is up. At least I'll (supposedly) have a refrigerator and a microwave (though, I never use microwaves because I think they're gross, unless I'm making edamame). Hope I still have a balcony. I wonder if my pets will be able to find me when I move...
One thing I did NOT check with said dress was what would happen if I sat down in it. I got into Dr. T's car this am to head to the base and realized that, when sitting down, the hem of my dress, which is below my knees when standing, does not cover my knees when sitting.
Women get fined here for showing their knees in public. It's considered very bad form.
My stomach started hurting and I wanted to jump out of the car but Dr. T, who realized my problem, found it amusing.
We got to the colonel's office and it was weird. He had put two chairs sideways against his desk for Dr. T and the program manager to sit in. Then he directed myself and Ireland to this other area of his office (which was quite big) where there was a sofa, two modern leather chairs, and a coffee table. It looked like the set of a talk show. Dr. T said "Franki, why don't you sit right there?" pointing at a place on the sofa directly in the line of sight of the colonel. I sat down, and immediately the colonel started staring at my knees. I couldn't tell if he was horrified or intrigued. Anyway, the meeting went poorly, I thought, because the colonel didn't say much but Dr. T thought it went just fine.
Then I went into my office and found that it has been invaded by scottish guys. Very strange. They were all sitting around arguing and reading the paper, and I had to try really hard to not laugh because they all sound like that character Bubbles on Ab Fab. The noise of their arguments was only slightly less annoying than the fighter planes right outside my window (the runway is seriously like 200 yards from the bunker where we work) that seemed to be taking off every 10 minutes. I don't mind the C-130s because they just make noise. The fighter planes shake stuff around and make this horrible screechy metal sound.
There are female fighter pilots in UAE, by the way. How cool is that? There was one that used to work in my area but she got promoted and moved. Then she crashed her plane on accident last week but ejected in time. I'm sure it was the other driver's fault.
Tomorrow I tour an "apartment" in Le Meridien to move into when my reservation is up. At least I'll (supposedly) have a refrigerator and a microwave (though, I never use microwaves because I think they're gross, unless I'm making edamame). Hope I still have a balcony. I wonder if my pets will be able to find me when I move...
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
stranger in a strange land
Dinner last night was an interesting experience. Everyone at the table was from UK or Ireland, except for me and the husband of one of Ireland's friends, Evan. Evan asked me where I was from and I said "I'm from the US. I didn't vote for Bush." Evan said "Bush didn't run in the last election", missing my point.
Apparently he took offense to what I said, because he ignored me until the topic of running came up. He met his wife running with the harriers in Abu Dhabi. I asked if they had a web site or something so I could join and have a group to run with. He made some comment about "husband shopping" (he met his wife in the harriers) and then said he thought the harriers might be too competitive for me. And because everyone kept teasing him about his age I asked him how old he was. He said "that is the RUDEST question anyone has ever asked me". He wasn't joking, though I find his statement hard to believe because he's retired navy.
I tried to follow the other conversations going on around the table but was lost in idiomatic expressions and the inability to understand some of the accents. There was a conversation going on that seemed really interesting until I found out it was about a tv show about housewives. Every time someone in Ireland's group goes home they bring back the latest DVDs of TV shows that people like to watch here but that aren't on the TV. They asked if I had any DVDs. I thought about mentioning my 12 disk series on chaos or maybe my lecture series done by Neil deGrasse Tyson on the universe, but then decided to just say no.
Everyone was talking about this palace which is a 7 star hotel. Ireland and her brother and his wife went there Monday night for iftar (breaking of the ramadan fast, usually happens after sun down, and involves a tent with a ton of food - people sit around at tables in the tent eating and smoking sheesha). Ireland said she wanted to get married there. The whole dream wedding conversation went on for forever. I started thinking about what it would be like to be married to Neil. I could just see us sitting at a candle lit table, and him saying "Travel to the closest star would be an amazing journey. But if anything went wrong, you would die." Or "Black holes are fascinating things to study. But if you get to close to them, you will die." I think he's one of my favorite people and not just because he could get me into the Hayden planetarium for free (for more NdGT quotes: http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/12855.Neil_deGrasse_Tyson).
I rejoined the conversation when Ireland's brother mentioned someone was attacked by a great white in Australia. I started explaining some shark stuff to him but Evan interrupted me and said "Stop talking about sharks. They're too depressing."
This morning Ireland was in a bit of a mood because she stayed out late last night. And we had the worst taxi driver ever. I got to the base and a parade of French guys kept coming by my desk while I was trying to work making loud comments. Seriously, what is wrong with the French? Though, the nationality with a bad rap here is the brits. They get arrested more than any other nationality by a factor of 3, mostly for drugs, public drunkenness, and sex related offenses. Last year a british couple was caught having sex on the beach and they were thrown out of the country. One wonders what they were thinking considering you can get arrested for holding hands in public here. No, I'm not making that up.
The day ended with me finding out I'm getting thrown to the wolves tomorrow at the base. Some meeting with some commanders for which I don't even have a presentation to present. Then I'm meeting with some guys from Pakistan next week. I'm not looking forward to traveling there. The flight to and from Islamabad leaves at 3 in the morning and you have to be there 3 hours in advance. Then you get driven everywhere. You are only allowed to go to your hotel or the customer site. And Dr. T warned me the power goes out a lot, and he was almost injured there his last trip when he was running on the treadmill and it came to an unexpected stop when the power shut off.
The good news is, there is a lot of work to do. That, of course, is also the bad news.
Apparently he took offense to what I said, because he ignored me until the topic of running came up. He met his wife running with the harriers in Abu Dhabi. I asked if they had a web site or something so I could join and have a group to run with. He made some comment about "husband shopping" (he met his wife in the harriers) and then said he thought the harriers might be too competitive for me. And because everyone kept teasing him about his age I asked him how old he was. He said "that is the RUDEST question anyone has ever asked me". He wasn't joking, though I find his statement hard to believe because he's retired navy.
I tried to follow the other conversations going on around the table but was lost in idiomatic expressions and the inability to understand some of the accents. There was a conversation going on that seemed really interesting until I found out it was about a tv show about housewives. Every time someone in Ireland's group goes home they bring back the latest DVDs of TV shows that people like to watch here but that aren't on the TV. They asked if I had any DVDs. I thought about mentioning my 12 disk series on chaos or maybe my lecture series done by Neil deGrasse Tyson on the universe, but then decided to just say no.
Everyone was talking about this palace which is a 7 star hotel. Ireland and her brother and his wife went there Monday night for iftar (breaking of the ramadan fast, usually happens after sun down, and involves a tent with a ton of food - people sit around at tables in the tent eating and smoking sheesha). Ireland said she wanted to get married there. The whole dream wedding conversation went on for forever. I started thinking about what it would be like to be married to Neil. I could just see us sitting at a candle lit table, and him saying "Travel to the closest star would be an amazing journey. But if anything went wrong, you would die." Or "Black holes are fascinating things to study. But if you get to close to them, you will die." I think he's one of my favorite people and not just because he could get me into the Hayden planetarium for free (for more NdGT quotes: http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/12855.Neil_deGrasse_Tyson).
I rejoined the conversation when Ireland's brother mentioned someone was attacked by a great white in Australia. I started explaining some shark stuff to him but Evan interrupted me and said "Stop talking about sharks. They're too depressing."
This morning Ireland was in a bit of a mood because she stayed out late last night. And we had the worst taxi driver ever. I got to the base and a parade of French guys kept coming by my desk while I was trying to work making loud comments. Seriously, what is wrong with the French? Though, the nationality with a bad rap here is the brits. They get arrested more than any other nationality by a factor of 3, mostly for drugs, public drunkenness, and sex related offenses. Last year a british couple was caught having sex on the beach and they were thrown out of the country. One wonders what they were thinking considering you can get arrested for holding hands in public here. No, I'm not making that up.
The day ended with me finding out I'm getting thrown to the wolves tomorrow at the base. Some meeting with some commanders for which I don't even have a presentation to present. Then I'm meeting with some guys from Pakistan next week. I'm not looking forward to traveling there. The flight to and from Islamabad leaves at 3 in the morning and you have to be there 3 hours in advance. Then you get driven everywhere. You are only allowed to go to your hotel or the customer site. And Dr. T warned me the power goes out a lot, and he was almost injured there his last trip when he was running on the treadmill and it came to an unexpected stop when the power shut off.
The good news is, there is a lot of work to do. That, of course, is also the bad news.
Monday, August 31, 2009
the tender trap
from a comment about an article that cited 3 warning signs that a guy is not a good guy to have a long term relationship with:
"I dont (sic) think that relationships can last unless you have both parties so wrapped up in one anothers (sic) lives that extricating themselves would be like ripping off a limb. Those relationships survive. The ones with not much invested as far as family friends and effort seem doomed to fail. I still feel that unless a man is open to falling totally in love with you right from the start your (sic) wasting your time trying to convince him. Hearts (sic) open or heart is closed. Cant (sic) make something out of nothing."
from the article "Is Sex Interesting?" by Wallace Shawn (Aug 2009, Harper's Magazine):
"Perhaps it is the power of sex that has taught us to love the meaningless and thereby turn it
into the meaningful. Amazingly, the love of what is arbitrary (which one could alternatively
describe as the love of reality) is something we human beings are capable of feeling, and perhaps
even what we call the love of the beautiful is simply a particular way of exercising this remarkable ability...Sex has always been known to be such a powerful force that fragile humanity can’t help but be terribly nervous in front of it, so powerful barriers have been devised to control it—taboos of all varieties, first of all, and then all the emotions subsumed under the concepts of jealousy and possessiveness, possessiveness being a sort of anticipatory form of jealousy. (A recent survey of married people in the United States found that when asked the question “What is very important for a successful marriage?” the quality mentioned most frequently—by 93 percent—was “faithfulness,” while “happy sexual relationship” came in
with only 70 percent. In other words, to 23 percent of the respondents, it seemed more important that they and their partner should not have sex with others than that they themselves should enjoy sex.)"
from "the once and future king", T.H. White:
"It is difficult to explain about Guenever, unless it is possible to love two people at the same time. Probably it is not possible to love two people in the same way, but there are different kinds of love...It had been a successful union, as "made" marriages generally are, and before Lancelot came on the scene the young girl had adored her famous husband...she had felt respect for him, with gratitude, kindness, love, and a sense of protection. She had felt more than this - you might say she had felt everything except the passion of romance."
"A woman can forget a lot of love in two years-or at any rate she can pack it away, and grow accustomed to it, and hardly remember it more than a businessman might remember an occasion when, by ill luck, he had failed to make an investment which would have made him a millionaire."
from an article about Neil deGrasse Tyson's book "the pluto files":
"...Disney's dog Pluto was sketched the same year the cosmic object was discovered. And Pluto was discovered by an American. So here you have a recipe for Americans falling in love with a planet that really is just a tiny ice ball...
So that was the famous Planet X. And eventually, Clyde Tombaugh in Arizona discovered a planet, which got named Pluto. Not by an American, though, because an American would never have named it after a highly advertised, highly marketed laxative of the same name that was popular then."
"I dont (sic) think that relationships can last unless you have both parties so wrapped up in one anothers (sic) lives that extricating themselves would be like ripping off a limb. Those relationships survive. The ones with not much invested as far as family friends and effort seem doomed to fail. I still feel that unless a man is open to falling totally in love with you right from the start your (sic) wasting your time trying to convince him. Hearts (sic) open or heart is closed. Cant (sic) make something out of nothing."
from the article "Is Sex Interesting?" by Wallace Shawn (Aug 2009, Harper's Magazine):
"Perhaps it is the power of sex that has taught us to love the meaningless and thereby turn it
into the meaningful. Amazingly, the love of what is arbitrary (which one could alternatively
describe as the love of reality) is something we human beings are capable of feeling, and perhaps
even what we call the love of the beautiful is simply a particular way of exercising this remarkable ability...Sex has always been known to be such a powerful force that fragile humanity can’t help but be terribly nervous in front of it, so powerful barriers have been devised to control it—taboos of all varieties, first of all, and then all the emotions subsumed under the concepts of jealousy and possessiveness, possessiveness being a sort of anticipatory form of jealousy. (A recent survey of married people in the United States found that when asked the question “What is very important for a successful marriage?” the quality mentioned most frequently—by 93 percent—was “faithfulness,” while “happy sexual relationship” came in
with only 70 percent. In other words, to 23 percent of the respondents, it seemed more important that they and their partner should not have sex with others than that they themselves should enjoy sex.)"
from "the once and future king", T.H. White:
"It is difficult to explain about Guenever, unless it is possible to love two people at the same time. Probably it is not possible to love two people in the same way, but there are different kinds of love...It had been a successful union, as "made" marriages generally are, and before Lancelot came on the scene the young girl had adored her famous husband...she had felt respect for him, with gratitude, kindness, love, and a sense of protection. She had felt more than this - you might say she had felt everything except the passion of romance."
"A woman can forget a lot of love in two years-or at any rate she can pack it away, and grow accustomed to it, and hardly remember it more than a businessman might remember an occasion when, by ill luck, he had failed to make an investment which would have made him a millionaire."
from an article about Neil deGrasse Tyson's book "the pluto files":
"...Disney's dog Pluto was sketched the same year the cosmic object was discovered. And Pluto was discovered by an American. So here you have a recipe for Americans falling in love with a planet that really is just a tiny ice ball...
So that was the famous Planet X. And eventually, Clyde Tombaugh in Arizona discovered a planet, which got named Pluto. Not by an American, though, because an American would never have named it after a highly advertised, highly marketed laxative of the same name that was popular then."
new kid on the block
In the taxi today, riding home with Ireland from the base in the worst traffic ever, I found out why all these weird people were stopping by my desk today. I guess word had gotten around the base that there was a new woman working there.
It's funny that when I first got here I thought I would find a bunch of people like me, and that I would have ample resources to climb and dive with. But it turns out most of the people I've met that are ex pats are out of shape married men who probably took their assignment to get away from the wife and kids.
The french guys are the most obnoxious. One guy came by my desk today and said "bon jour". I had no idea who he was so I said "good morning". He then counseled me in French to greet him in French. I told him to (insert explicative here) himself in Greek. For the rest of the day he would stop by my desk and say something in French. I answered him in Spanish, Arabic, or Greek depending on what I could remember. He finally got the message and decided to leave me alone after calling me a bad name in French (A speaks it and translated after the guy left).
Then, when A and I arrived at Ireland's building (she works on a different part of the base) to pick her up at the end of the day today, two other french guys were waiting with her. As she opened the door to the car (it's a 2 door BMW and I was sitting in the back) both guys came over to try to shake my hand or something. Then one, named Bruno (how could I make that up) actually tried to climb into the back seat of the car with me. Scary. Ireland had to push him out of the way and then A peeled out of the parking lot, though that was more to show off than because he was worried about me getting molested by a frog.
In the 15 minute drive across the 6 lanes of traffic we were laughing about most of the contractor guys we have to work with. Then we were talking about how even the muslim guys can be overly friendly, and during ramadan they use the excuse of trying to convert women to the muslim religion to hit on them. It's one of the tenets of their religion to convert people. Ireland said she would never want to convert to a religion where she would have to be one of four wives, and that she would rather have four husbands. I told her that sounded like way too much work.
On the drive back to Abu Dhabi, ramadan traffic was compounded by a bunch of construction. It's amazing how much building is going on in this city. They're building tunnels and bridges to islands that they had previously built. Then, on the islands, they're building buildings so people have a reason to go to the islands. It's all rather strange. In Abu Dhabi they're ripping down existing short (3 story) buildings and replacing them with tall skyscrapers with mirrored windows. I asked Ireland why they were ripping down what I thought was a cute little building and she said "because it isn't shiny enough".
Tonight I'm meeting Ireland, her brother, her brother's wife, her best friend and her spouse, and two americans she knows for dinner at a mexican restaurant. I finally discovered why there are no restaurants on the street. A place has to be located in a hotel to serve alcohol and most restaurants, other than lunch places and bakeries, could not survive not being able to sell alcohol. So they either open in a mall, or open in a hotel and serve alcohol.
Such is life on this side of the world...
It's funny that when I first got here I thought I would find a bunch of people like me, and that I would have ample resources to climb and dive with. But it turns out most of the people I've met that are ex pats are out of shape married men who probably took their assignment to get away from the wife and kids.
The french guys are the most obnoxious. One guy came by my desk today and said "bon jour". I had no idea who he was so I said "good morning". He then counseled me in French to greet him in French. I told him to (insert explicative here) himself in Greek. For the rest of the day he would stop by my desk and say something in French. I answered him in Spanish, Arabic, or Greek depending on what I could remember. He finally got the message and decided to leave me alone after calling me a bad name in French (A speaks it and translated after the guy left).
Then, when A and I arrived at Ireland's building (she works on a different part of the base) to pick her up at the end of the day today, two other french guys were waiting with her. As she opened the door to the car (it's a 2 door BMW and I was sitting in the back) both guys came over to try to shake my hand or something. Then one, named Bruno (how could I make that up) actually tried to climb into the back seat of the car with me. Scary. Ireland had to push him out of the way and then A peeled out of the parking lot, though that was more to show off than because he was worried about me getting molested by a frog.
In the 15 minute drive across the 6 lanes of traffic we were laughing about most of the contractor guys we have to work with. Then we were talking about how even the muslim guys can be overly friendly, and during ramadan they use the excuse of trying to convert women to the muslim religion to hit on them. It's one of the tenets of their religion to convert people. Ireland said she would never want to convert to a religion where she would have to be one of four wives, and that she would rather have four husbands. I told her that sounded like way too much work.
On the drive back to Abu Dhabi, ramadan traffic was compounded by a bunch of construction. It's amazing how much building is going on in this city. They're building tunnels and bridges to islands that they had previously built. Then, on the islands, they're building buildings so people have a reason to go to the islands. It's all rather strange. In Abu Dhabi they're ripping down existing short (3 story) buildings and replacing them with tall skyscrapers with mirrored windows. I asked Ireland why they were ripping down what I thought was a cute little building and she said "because it isn't shiny enough".
Tonight I'm meeting Ireland, her brother, her brother's wife, her best friend and her spouse, and two americans she knows for dinner at a mexican restaurant. I finally discovered why there are no restaurants on the street. A place has to be located in a hotel to serve alcohol and most restaurants, other than lunch places and bakeries, could not survive not being able to sell alcohol. So they either open in a mall, or open in a hotel and serve alcohol.
Such is life on this side of the world...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
flip flops vs. combat boots
Last week I got to meet some of the contractors I'll be working with when I did a two day training class for them. It was interesting to watch the expression on their faces when they walked in to find me as their instructor. Most of the guys took it in stride. One guy, though, was pretty militant about his views of women, and refused any help from me when he was trying to complete the exercises. Then the little bastard gave me a "good" rating on the evaluation, while rating everything else about the class "excellent".
The very important person to win over in the class liked me so the rating doesn't matter. The VIP is an ex fighter pilot, and we had some interesting discussions about the F-16 (my dad was the lead designer on the F-100 engine, so I immediately had street cred with the VIP). While at first I was worried to do my usual routine teaching class, after a few hours when they were responding to my jokes I decided to just pretend I was in the US.
I had been warned that people would fall asleep in my class and would want to leave early because of ramadan, but actually it was hard to get rid of them at the end of the day. And at one point everyone was laughing and yelling so loud the program manager came in to see what was going on (we were having a drawing race, and at the end I realized I had written all over the white board with a permanent marker - enter the tea boy to clean it with windex and a billion kleenex while the VIP gave a demonstration of "dry erase markers" and "permanent markers" in engli-arabic - I am probably glad I couldn't understand the arabic parts).
Today I went to the base to meet my customer. The base is in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by road construction so it's pretty difficult to get to. I had to take a taxi to the supermarket across the street, where A was waiting for me. Then we drove out of the parking lot, made a u-turn, and entered the base. What's so crazy is that I could have walked across the street (it's only 6 lanes) but there are barriers up everywhere to keep people from doing that. So instead of a 5 minute walk we have to drive 10 minutes to get on base. And then, after all the drama of getting my pass so I could enter the gate, the guard didn't even ask for it. He just waved at me.
Most of the people I met today were very nice. My favorite is a captain, female. She looks like the emirati version of Angelina Jolie and her uniform is really cool. She wears a black head scarf, then has this very masculine looking square jacket with a bunch of military stuff stuck all over it, and then she has a long skirt that goes to the floor, and poking out from the hem are her black combat boots. She even has her own office.
Most of the day was spent with A trying to figure out our work schedule for the next few months. There's a lot to do. I found it funny that, at the end of the day, when I gave A a list of what I was going to work on for the rest of the week, he said "it's really weird to me that you are doing work". I sometimes wonder if I'm not really a consultant.
And, I've decided, unless something horrible happens, I'm going to Banff in November. Work is fun, but I really need to get my book published. I'll be breaking the news to Dr. T later this week.
The very important person to win over in the class liked me so the rating doesn't matter. The VIP is an ex fighter pilot, and we had some interesting discussions about the F-16 (my dad was the lead designer on the F-100 engine, so I immediately had street cred with the VIP). While at first I was worried to do my usual routine teaching class, after a few hours when they were responding to my jokes I decided to just pretend I was in the US.
I had been warned that people would fall asleep in my class and would want to leave early because of ramadan, but actually it was hard to get rid of them at the end of the day. And at one point everyone was laughing and yelling so loud the program manager came in to see what was going on (we were having a drawing race, and at the end I realized I had written all over the white board with a permanent marker - enter the tea boy to clean it with windex and a billion kleenex while the VIP gave a demonstration of "dry erase markers" and "permanent markers" in engli-arabic - I am probably glad I couldn't understand the arabic parts).
Today I went to the base to meet my customer. The base is in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by road construction so it's pretty difficult to get to. I had to take a taxi to the supermarket across the street, where A was waiting for me. Then we drove out of the parking lot, made a u-turn, and entered the base. What's so crazy is that I could have walked across the street (it's only 6 lanes) but there are barriers up everywhere to keep people from doing that. So instead of a 5 minute walk we have to drive 10 minutes to get on base. And then, after all the drama of getting my pass so I could enter the gate, the guard didn't even ask for it. He just waved at me.
Most of the people I met today were very nice. My favorite is a captain, female. She looks like the emirati version of Angelina Jolie and her uniform is really cool. She wears a black head scarf, then has this very masculine looking square jacket with a bunch of military stuff stuck all over it, and then she has a long skirt that goes to the floor, and poking out from the hem are her black combat boots. She even has her own office.
Most of the day was spent with A trying to figure out our work schedule for the next few months. There's a lot to do. I found it funny that, at the end of the day, when I gave A a list of what I was going to work on for the rest of the week, he said "it's really weird to me that you are doing work". I sometimes wonder if I'm not really a consultant.
And, I've decided, unless something horrible happens, I'm going to Banff in November. Work is fun, but I really need to get my book published. I'll be breaking the news to Dr. T later this week.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
ramadan ruse
Today I was talking to a guy from the Dubai office and he was asking me where I sneak off to when I want to eat or drink something. I told him that I was fasting along with everyone else in the office. He started laughing and told me most of the people in the office are having lunch while I think they're saying prayers. Don't I feel like a sucker.
I read an article in the paper yesterday that was talking about ramadan. What ends up happening here is people sleep all day because it's hot and they're tired from fasting. They wake up at night and hang out in iftar tents (tents full of food) to break fast. Then they watch TV, have the last meal before sunrise, and go to sleep. It sounds more like a night club life style than a religious event, but I'm sure some people take it seriously.
Another article talked about the top 10 bad things that people do during ramadan. Eight of the 10 things were about women. Among their list of bad things they do at ramadan:
Pretending to have the curse when they don't (women with the curse don't have to fast)
Wearing too much perfume (not sure about that one)
Talking to people at the mosque instead of, and I quote, "being silent"
Cooking too much food
Spending too much time in the kitchen cooking food and making it look nice
Claiming to be tired during fasting (while taking care of the kids, no doubt)
Not encouraging pre-teens to fast
Becoming anorexic during fasting
The bad things that men do included watching too much TV and sleeping too much.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
death cab
You can always tell what the weather is like outside, A tells me, by looking at the sky. The closer the color of the sky is to the color of the desert, the hotter it's going to be.
I woke up this morning, and the sky was as blue as I've seen it. I walked outside and spent 30 minutes waiting for a cab. Just when I was thinking I would walk to the office because the weather didn't seem so bad, a cab showed up. I should note that when I got to the office everyone was talking about how it was "only 120 degrees" outside. Guess I'm getting used to the heat.
In the 30 minutes I was waiting, a cab actually did show up, but he refused to give me a ride. After the cab left I asked the bell hop why he didn't want to give me a ride, and the bell hop said "because he's Pakistani". Hm. Then I got to the office and met N, who I will be working in parallel with (he is a consultant for software that integrates with my software). It turns out N was born in Dallas, Texas but is Pakistani. When I told him what happened with the cab he laughed and said it's more likely the guy didn't want to give me a ride because I'm a woman rather than because I'm american.
N took me to get a SIM card, an arduous process involving mobs of people shoving at the phone counter and computers that kept breaking down, capped off with a lecture from a Palastinian woman about how my photocopy of my passport was "no good, no good at all". Then we found out the SIM card doesn't work in my crackberry, so I also had to buy a phone (we used to have spare phones in the office, but after my old company was taken over by my new company they got rid of the spare phones - but, they did hire a tea boy to bring everyone drinks - someone in corporate should get a huge raise for that decision).
As we were driving back to the office N told me that I was lucky to not end up in a cab with a Paki. He said they are the worst drivers in the world. I believe him after he told me that he had "only been in 2 accidents this year". Um, that's a good driving record? He was driving his mom's car because his was in the shop from his last accident. He said he was driving a little fast when "suddenly this Indian stopped rather suddenly at a red light". I was like "yeah, that happens all the time in the US too". Then I asked if, for the rest of the trip to the office, we could stop at the red lights just so we didn't get into an accident (for the record, everyone stops at red lights here, except, I guess, Pakistanis).
The guy who walks around the office parking garage cleaning cars surreptitiously made me a little hide away to smoke in by stacking up a bunch of boxes, which I found today, much to my surprise and delight (I only had two cigarettes over the course of 8 hours, so nip it). I know he's the one that did it because his cleaning supplies are in there too. As I've said before, these people are all about service. When I was asking N where I could do my laundry he looked at me as if I was right out of the trailer park and said "Do you mean, do we have laundromats like in the US? Franki, no. Here, we pay someone to do everything for us. Just send your laundry out."
N and I worked until late afternoon, and then I turned down an offer from him for a ride home, because I felt like he had already been so helpful to me (Pete, N says hi btw, you taught him DXL). I ended up in a cab with a Paki (cab drivers always tell me where they are from as soon as I get in the cab - why, I don't know) who didn't mind driving a woman around. The only problem was, he really was a bad driver.
It's the first time since being here that I actually feared for my life. He was speeding down a three lane road when suddenly traffic stopped in front of us. He slammed on the brakes and the car began turning sideways. Everyone was honking at us. Then he decided, for no reason, to cross three lanes of traffic without looking. We almost side swiped a range rover. By then I'd had enough so I yelled "HEY!" He looked in the rear view at me, and I said "You are making me VERY angry." He slowed down a little after that, and used his turn signal as he was cutting cars off. The important thing is I made it back to the hotel in one piece.
Tomorrow I'm doing my first training class for the air force here. It should be exciting, since the training material did not show up today. It will be there for class tomorrow, inshallah.
I woke up this morning, and the sky was as blue as I've seen it. I walked outside and spent 30 minutes waiting for a cab. Just when I was thinking I would walk to the office because the weather didn't seem so bad, a cab showed up. I should note that when I got to the office everyone was talking about how it was "only 120 degrees" outside. Guess I'm getting used to the heat.
In the 30 minutes I was waiting, a cab actually did show up, but he refused to give me a ride. After the cab left I asked the bell hop why he didn't want to give me a ride, and the bell hop said "because he's Pakistani". Hm. Then I got to the office and met N, who I will be working in parallel with (he is a consultant for software that integrates with my software). It turns out N was born in Dallas, Texas but is Pakistani. When I told him what happened with the cab he laughed and said it's more likely the guy didn't want to give me a ride because I'm a woman rather than because I'm american.
N took me to get a SIM card, an arduous process involving mobs of people shoving at the phone counter and computers that kept breaking down, capped off with a lecture from a Palastinian woman about how my photocopy of my passport was "no good, no good at all". Then we found out the SIM card doesn't work in my crackberry, so I also had to buy a phone (we used to have spare phones in the office, but after my old company was taken over by my new company they got rid of the spare phones - but, they did hire a tea boy to bring everyone drinks - someone in corporate should get a huge raise for that decision).
As we were driving back to the office N told me that I was lucky to not end up in a cab with a Paki. He said they are the worst drivers in the world. I believe him after he told me that he had "only been in 2 accidents this year". Um, that's a good driving record? He was driving his mom's car because his was in the shop from his last accident. He said he was driving a little fast when "suddenly this Indian stopped rather suddenly at a red light". I was like "yeah, that happens all the time in the US too". Then I asked if, for the rest of the trip to the office, we could stop at the red lights just so we didn't get into an accident (for the record, everyone stops at red lights here, except, I guess, Pakistanis).
The guy who walks around the office parking garage cleaning cars surreptitiously made me a little hide away to smoke in by stacking up a bunch of boxes, which I found today, much to my surprise and delight (I only had two cigarettes over the course of 8 hours, so nip it). I know he's the one that did it because his cleaning supplies are in there too. As I've said before, these people are all about service. When I was asking N where I could do my laundry he looked at me as if I was right out of the trailer park and said "Do you mean, do we have laundromats like in the US? Franki, no. Here, we pay someone to do everything for us. Just send your laundry out."
N and I worked until late afternoon, and then I turned down an offer from him for a ride home, because I felt like he had already been so helpful to me (Pete, N says hi btw, you taught him DXL). I ended up in a cab with a Paki (cab drivers always tell me where they are from as soon as I get in the cab - why, I don't know) who didn't mind driving a woman around. The only problem was, he really was a bad driver.
It's the first time since being here that I actually feared for my life. He was speeding down a three lane road when suddenly traffic stopped in front of us. He slammed on the brakes and the car began turning sideways. Everyone was honking at us. Then he decided, for no reason, to cross three lanes of traffic without looking. We almost side swiped a range rover. By then I'd had enough so I yelled "HEY!" He looked in the rear view at me, and I said "You are making me VERY angry." He slowed down a little after that, and used his turn signal as he was cutting cars off. The important thing is I made it back to the hotel in one piece.
Tomorrow I'm doing my first training class for the air force here. It should be exciting, since the training material did not show up today. It will be there for class tomorrow, inshallah.
Monday, August 24, 2009
quitter
The second day at work during Ramadan was really hard. I'm not surprised that, as I read in the paper, people just stop showing up to work. It took forever to get a taxi this morning (30 minutes) and the whole time we were driving I saw taxis, empty, parked on the side of the road. People are too tired to work, especially in this heat.
Even though I ate two things of oatmeal this morning, I was really hungry around lunch time. I'm sure some of my clients may be a little shocked that I wanted to eat something during the day...I guess not drinking tea and not smoking gives me an appetite. I found myself staring at the Wahoo's web site, contemplating how many fish tacos I thought I might be able to eat. It was kind of sad.
Worse, though, happened this afternoon. I was ready to knock off around 3 (our quitting time during Ramadan), head back to the hotel, chain smoke a billion cigarettes, and then work out. But N, one of my colleagues, called and asked that I stay in the office for 40 minutes and wait for him. I was like "but with this nicotine headache I might beat you up when you finally show up". Instead I said I would wait.
So, not being able to smoke on the streets (you get arrested - ask me how I know that), and not being able to go home and smoke, I decided to sneak down to the bottom floor of the building, a parking garage. As soon as I walked off the elevator I could smell smoke. I snuck off behind this huge metal structure and was happily smoking when suddenly a car started coming down the parking lot ramp. I quickly killed my cigarette and ran back over to the elevator. I was panicking that who ever was in the car was going to yell at me, but then realized that HE was smoking in the garage.
Quitting smoking, while also quitting eating and drinking, sucks.
When I got back to the office I waited 45 minutes and then N called to say he wasn't coming. Traffic was bad heading back to the hotel because everyone leaves work early during Ramadan. But I'm not mad at N, that was the lack of nicotine talking.
The good thing is the gym hasn't been crowded at all.
Even though I ate two things of oatmeal this morning, I was really hungry around lunch time. I'm sure some of my clients may be a little shocked that I wanted to eat something during the day...I guess not drinking tea and not smoking gives me an appetite. I found myself staring at the Wahoo's web site, contemplating how many fish tacos I thought I might be able to eat. It was kind of sad.
Worse, though, happened this afternoon. I was ready to knock off around 3 (our quitting time during Ramadan), head back to the hotel, chain smoke a billion cigarettes, and then work out. But N, one of my colleagues, called and asked that I stay in the office for 40 minutes and wait for him. I was like "but with this nicotine headache I might beat you up when you finally show up". Instead I said I would wait.
So, not being able to smoke on the streets (you get arrested - ask me how I know that), and not being able to go home and smoke, I decided to sneak down to the bottom floor of the building, a parking garage. As soon as I walked off the elevator I could smell smoke. I snuck off behind this huge metal structure and was happily smoking when suddenly a car started coming down the parking lot ramp. I quickly killed my cigarette and ran back over to the elevator. I was panicking that who ever was in the car was going to yell at me, but then realized that HE was smoking in the garage.
Quitting smoking, while also quitting eating and drinking, sucks.
When I got back to the office I waited 45 minutes and then N called to say he wasn't coming. Traffic was bad heading back to the hotel because everyone leaves work early during Ramadan. But I'm not mad at N, that was the lack of nicotine talking.
The good thing is the gym hasn't been crowded at all.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
UAE cacti
Here's a picture of my two cacti. The little one is the one A originally gave me. The bigger one is the one he gave me after I said I liked succulents.I think I'll name the small one Poke Istan and the tall one Ali bin Stickers.
And this is Ireland's cactus. It has fungus.
cakes, and other things I can't eat
Today is the second day of Ramadan. The whole purpose of Ramadan is to fast from sun up (around 630 am) to sun down (around 630 pm) to teach muslims patience, modesty, and spirituality. Fasting means no eating, drinking, smoking, or chewing of gum, and you aren’t supposed to have any evil thoughts. At the end of Ramadan every muslim is supposed to give a month’s worth of expenses to someone who is poor, though this distribution of charity appears to be ongoing throughout Ramadan.
It’s a lot harder than it might seem at first to go 12 hours not eating or drinking anything. It’s especially true of Ramadan this year, because it has fallen during the summer months (Ramadan falls at a different time every year because it isn’t based on the solar calendar) and it seems like it will be very easy to get dehydrated during the day.
Most muslims break fast as soon as the sun goes down, and they stay up all night eating and drinking until the sun comes up. Then they have a nap for a few hours and get up and go to work. Ramadan, as reported by my colleagues here and in the paper, is the most dangerous time to be on the road, especially in the hours before the fast is broken, as people are trying to rush home and are tired from being up all night as well as light headed from fasting.
Technically I don’t have to fast, but there’s not really a way around it. Some offices curtain off an area for non-muslims to eat or drink but we haven’t done that in our office. All the restaurants and food places are closed until sundown. There isn’t a place to sneak off and smoke. It’s considered very rude to eat or drink in front of people fasting (for obvious reasons). I think I better get up super early tomorrow and drink as much water as humanly possible. I didn’t eat anything before I left the hotel today, which was another tactical error. I’m teaching class all day Wednesday and Thursday, which could get interesting on an empty stomach.
As a side note, I read in the paper last night that there is a panic over the availability of cakes and other baked sweets in Abu Dhabi. It seems that people are buying more confections this year than last, and bakers are working over time to keep up. There was also a helpful chart in the paper on how to break fast in a healthy way (e.g. don’t eat cakes first, eat fruit).
A cake would be nice to eat right now. I have a low grade headache from lack of water and nicotine. Oh well. Only 29 more days and then fasting is over…
It’s a lot harder than it might seem at first to go 12 hours not eating or drinking anything. It’s especially true of Ramadan this year, because it has fallen during the summer months (Ramadan falls at a different time every year because it isn’t based on the solar calendar) and it seems like it will be very easy to get dehydrated during the day.
Most muslims break fast as soon as the sun goes down, and they stay up all night eating and drinking until the sun comes up. Then they have a nap for a few hours and get up and go to work. Ramadan, as reported by my colleagues here and in the paper, is the most dangerous time to be on the road, especially in the hours before the fast is broken, as people are trying to rush home and are tired from being up all night as well as light headed from fasting.
Technically I don’t have to fast, but there’s not really a way around it. Some offices curtain off an area for non-muslims to eat or drink but we haven’t done that in our office. All the restaurants and food places are closed until sundown. There isn’t a place to sneak off and smoke. It’s considered very rude to eat or drink in front of people fasting (for obvious reasons). I think I better get up super early tomorrow and drink as much water as humanly possible. I didn’t eat anything before I left the hotel today, which was another tactical error. I’m teaching class all day Wednesday and Thursday, which could get interesting on an empty stomach.
As a side note, I read in the paper last night that there is a panic over the availability of cakes and other baked sweets in Abu Dhabi. It seems that people are buying more confections this year than last, and bakers are working over time to keep up. There was also a helpful chart in the paper on how to break fast in a healthy way (e.g. don’t eat cakes first, eat fruit).
A cake would be nice to eat right now. I have a low grade headache from lack of water and nicotine. Oh well. Only 29 more days and then fasting is over…
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